CHAPTER XVIII. A YOUNG OVERSEER
Sunday dawned gloriously, and Dan declared that he felt better than hehad supposed that he ever would again. Jane, too, though she did notvoice it, was conscious of feeling more invigorated than she had been inthe East, and yet, of course, she was very glad that she was going backagain on the following Tuesday. She would go directly to Newport to visitMerry Starr, as had been their original plan. Her conscience would nottrouble her, since it was Dan's wish that she be the one to leave.
The two children, on the evening before, had failed to confide that theyhad visited the cabin up the mountain road. They were wild to tell Dan,but they wished to get him off by himself before they did so. Theydragged him out into the kitchen after the Sunday morning work was doneand asked him if he would go with them for a hike up along the brook to anatural bridge that they could see from their door-yard.
The older lad hesitated. "I'll ask Jane if she would like to go," hebegan, but the immediate disappointment expressed by the two freckledfaces made him turn back to add, "Or, rather, I'll ask Jane if she mindsour going, just for a little while." This suggestion was far morepleasing to the children.
They all entered the living-room where Jane sat reading. "My goodness,don't go far," she said petulantly. "Don't you remember that the terribleoverseer from the Packard ranch is coming to take dinner with you today?I intend to shut myself in my room and stay there until he is gone."
"Hm!" Dan snapped his fingers as he ejaculated. "Queer I'd forget thatvisit, since I have been looking forward to it so eagerly." Then hequeried: "Why do you say that he is terrible, Jane? A foreman on a vastcattle ranch is not necessarily an uncouth specimen of humanity."
The girl flung herself impatiently in the chair as she emphaticallyreplied: "Of course he'll be terrible! A big, rawboned creature who willspeak with a dreadful dialect, or whatever you call it; and he will be soembarrassed at meeting people from the city, that he will stutter morethan likely."
Dan laughed at the description. "Maybe you are right, sister of mine, butwe'll be home to prepare the meal for our guest, long before the hour heis to arrive. Goodbye! Fire off the gun if you are frightened atanything."
The girl merely shrugged her shoulders, and when they were gone shedecided, since it really was very lovely out-of-doors, to take her bookto the porch, and so she dragged thither the comfortable chair with theleather pillows. She was soon reading the story, which interested her sogreatly that she did not notice the passing of time until she heard astep near by. Jane supposed that her family was returning, and did notglance up until she heard a pleasant, well-modulated voice saying:
"Pardon me if I intrude, but is this the cabin occupied by the Abbottfamily?"
Looking up in astonishment, Jane saw before her a handsome youth whosewide Stetson hat was held in one hand. He wore a tan-colored shirt ofsoft flannel, and his corduroys, of the same shade, were tucked intohigh, laced boots. Even before she spoke, Jane was conscious that theyouth with the clean-shaven face, strong square chin, pleasant mouth,blue eyes with clear, direct gaze was not in the least embarrassed by herpresence. He was indeed the kind of a lad she had always met in the homesof her best friends, the kind that Dan was. But that of which she wasmost conscious was the fact that he was very good looking, and that inhis eyes there was an expression of sincere admiration for her.
Graciously Jane rose and held out a slim white hand. "We are theAbbotts," she began; then, laughingly confessed that, unfortunately, shewas the only one at home, as the others had gone on a hike--she reallyhad not inquired where.
The lad did not seem to consider it unfortunate. "Please be seated again,Miss Abbott, and I'll occupy the door-step, if you don't mind. I'd heapsrather meet strangers one by one. It's easier to get acquainted."
Then, as he thought of something, he exclaimed: "I hope I have not comeover much earlier than I was expected. I hiked all the way. I thought itmight be easier to come cross-lots, so to speak, than to ride horsebackto Redfords and then up your mountain road."
"Was it?" Jane asked, wishing to appear interested.
"It was great! I adore mountain climbing, don't you, Miss Abbott?"
Then, not waiting for her reply, he continued with boyish enthusiasm: "Itell you, it means a lot to me to have you Abbotts here. I love the West,but I've missed my friends. We'll have great times! How long are yougoing to stay?"
Jane hesitated. She should have replied that she was leaving on Tuesday,but now she was not sure that she wished to go.
For a merry half hour these two chattered. The lad seemed to be quitewilling to talk of everything but his home, and Jane was too well bred toask questions. Jean told of his college life, and when she asked if heregretted that his days of study were over, he laughingly declared thatthey never would be. "Mr. Packard is a great student," he looked upbrightly to say, "and our long winter evenings, that some chaps mightcall dull, are the most interesting I have ever spent. We take onesubject after another and go into it thoroughly. We're most interested inexperimental inventions and we have rigged up all sorts of labor savingcontrivances over on the ranch." Recalling something which for the momenthad been forgotten, Jean exclaimed: "Mr. Packard wished me to invite youall to visit us as soon as you are quite settled here."
Then with that unconscious admiration in his eyes, he concluded: "Formyself I most eagerly second the invitation." Jane's vanity was indeedgratified. She laughed a happy musical laugh which sounded natural,although it had really been cultivated. "I am greatly flattered that youshould be so anxious to entertain the Abbotts," she told him, "since I amthe only one of us whom you have met."
"True!" he confessed, merrily, "but you know we scientists can visualizean entire family from one specimen. How could the other three beundesirable when one is so lovely? Maybe it's because I am a blonde thatI admire the olive type of beauty."
Just why she said it Jane could not have told, unless the memory of whatthat awful Gabby at the station had said still rankled. Be that as itmay, almost without her conscious direction she heard herself saying: "Isuppose, then, that you must be a great admirer of Meg Heger?" There wasa note in the girl's voice which made the lad look up a bit puzzled. Whathe said in reply was both pleasing and displeasing to his companion. Witha ring of sincerity he assured his listener that there were few girlsfiner than Meg Heger.
"I do not know her personally very well," he told Jane. "She seems toshun the acquaintance of all young people. I sometimes think that she maybelieve her friendship would not be desired since she is supposed to bethe daughter of that old Ute Indian, but this is not true. We in the Westask not the parentage but the sincerity of our friends. It's through herfoster-father that I know the girl, really. I often go with him to thetimber line and above it, when I am not needed on the ranch. It's abeautiful thing to hear him tell how Meg has enriched their lives."
Then, as his direct gaze was again lifted to the olive-tinted face of thegirl near him, he said frankly: "Many of the cowboys and others of ourneighbors rave about Meg's beauty. But I do not admire the Spanish orFrench type as much as I do our very own American girl."
Jean did not say in words which American girl he thought wonderfullylovely to look upon, but his eyes were eloquent.
Jane could have sat there basking in the lad's evident admiration forhours, but the position of the sun, high above them, suggested to herthat something must be amiss. "I wonder why Dan and the children do notreturn," she said, rising to look up the brook trail. Jean leaped to hisfeet and together they went around the cabin and scanned themountain-side and the lad yodeled, but there was no response.
"Of course, nothing could have happened to them all," Jane assured him."They have gone farther than they planned, I suppose." Then, turning witha helpless little laugh, she said in her most winning way (and Jane couldbe quite irresistible when she wished), "I have a terrible confession tomake. You will have to starve if they do not return, for I have never
learned to cook."
"Great! I'm glad you haven't, because that will give me an opportunity ofshining in an art at which I excel." The lad seemed brimming over withenthusiasm. Jane smiled up at him. He stood a head taller than she, withwide, square shoulders that looked so strong and capable of carryingwhatever burden might be placed upon them.
"How did you happen to learn how to cook?" the girl inquired, and thenwondered at the sudden change of expression in his handsome face. Thejoyful enthusiasm of the moment before was gone and in its place was anexpression both tender and sad. "The last year of my little mother's lifewe two went alone to our cabin on the Maine coast. Mums wanted to takeour Chinaman, but I begged her to let me have her all alone by myself,and so under her direction I learned to cook. Miss Abbott," the boyturned toward her, seeming to feel sure of her understanding sympathy,"that was the happiest summer of my life, but it had the saddest ending,for, try as I might to keep her, my little mother faded away and leftus." Then abruptly he exclaimed, as though he dared not trust himself tokeep on: "Won't you lead me to the kitchen, and when the wanderers returnwe will have a feast ready for them."
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