Jessica Trent: Her Life on a Ranch

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER VIII

  IN THE MINER'S CABIN

  "Forgive me, mother! I oughtn't to have told it that way. But what doesit mean? Why should you want him to go?"

  "Did you not hear me say I would not have dismissed him? No, dear.There is something in this I don't understand. How do we know but thatall the other 'boys' who left so suddenly have been deceived in justthis way? As long as there was food enough to eat and a roof to shelterthem the men whom your father befriended and who, in turn have befriendedus, were as welcome to Sobrante as my own children. I must think thisover. We must then find Ephraim and bring him back. We must. There!We'll not discuss it any more at present. You are keeping Mr. Halewaiting and that is rudeness. Go, now, and explain all your father'splans to him, as you ride."

  "I'd so much rather stay with you. I don't like to leave you now."

  "I shall be busy and you'll be back for dinner."

  "I'd like to look for that paper--the title."

  "When you come back."

  "Good-by, then, and don't do any hard work. I'll send the children upto stay around the house. That will be one worry off your mind."

  When she had again sprung into her saddle, Lady Jess apologized forkeeping Mr. Hale so long, and suggested:

  "Suppose we ride first to the mines, while it is coolest. Then comearound by the olive and orange orchards. We can rest at the lemon houseawhile. It's interesting to see how they are cared for, or so moststrangers think."

  "Anything and anywhere suits me, for I'm full of curiosity aboutSobrante. How did your father happen to take up so many different linesof industry?"

  "Oh, they were all his 'experiments.' You see he wanted to do goodto some sorts of people that nobody else seemed much interested in.Men that were getting old and were not rich or well. He was born inCalifornia, and he always thought it the land where everybody couldfind a place if he only had a chance. He went to New York and lived along time, and he and mother were married there. He'd once ridden overthis valley, on a horseback trip--just like yours, maybe--and after thathe always meant to buy it if he could. So, when he began to lose hisown health he came right away. He hadn't much money himself, but heworked and mother helped, and he'd paid for it all before he died. Itwas the title deed which proved it, that he had just brought home andI could not find last night. Though, of course, I shall find it yet,"she added confidently.

  "I hope so, my child. I devotedly hope so. Yet if it was duly recordedthe matter should easily be set right."

  Jessica's face fell.

  "I don't believe it was. He said something about that, I didn'tunderstand it quite, but I know he said 'recorded' and that he meant tohave it done the next time he went to Los Angeles. But--he didn'tever go."

  The lawyer's face grew still more serious. Something of the love withwhich she inspired everybody was already in his heart for this littlemaid, and thoughts of his own young daughters, threatened with themisfortune which menaced her, stirred him to fresh regret for the missionhe had undertaken.

  They had now turned their horses' heads toward the foothills on thenorth and he asked:

  "What are these 'mines' of which you speak?"

  "For coal. It was an old man from Pennsylvania first thought theremight be such stuff in the mountains near, and it's worth so much here.Father had found him in one of the towns, with his wife and sick son.They'd spent all they had, to come West to try to cure the son, andwere very poor. So, of course, father brought them to Sobrante, and theboy got better at once. They didn't understand any sort of work exceptmining, and old Wolfgang couldn't rest without trying to do somethingback for father. So he and Otto dug and picked around till they found a'vein' and then they put up a little cabin near and there they live.Their name is Winkler, and Elsa, the mother, is the quaintest littleDutchwoman. Of course, there's never been money enough to work themine right. All they can do is to get out enough coal for us to use.That's why we always have such lovely grate fires in the winter time,that make the house so cosy. You'll like the Winklers, and you'lllike Elsa's coffee. Go there what time of day you will she alwaysmakes you drink some, sweetened with the wild honey she gets in the hillsand with her goat's milk in it."

  Mr. Hale made a wry face.

  "Oh! you're sure to like it. It is delicious, drank with a slice ofher hard, sweetened bread. And their little cabin is as clean as canbe. Elsa is a great knitter. She has knitted covers for everything, herbeds, chairs, table, everything. All the furniture is made out of woodthey found in the hills, and when they're not mining Otto carves itbeautifully."

  "Are all the people who work for you unfortunate? I mean, was somemisfortune that which made your father engage them?"

  "Yes, just that. They are his 'experiments.' He said this valley wasmade for every sort of work there was to be done. All men can't be thesame thing, and every man was happiest at his own trade. Young men canget work anywhere, but dear Sobrante is a Home with a capital H, foranybody who needs one. My father said the more he trusted people the lessthey ever disappointed him. He'd proved his plan was right on his ownsingle ranch and he was trying to make others do the same on theirs.Paraiso d'Oro--oh! you're from that same New York. Do you know a--aMr. Syndicate, I think he was, who owns Paraiso. Of course, I know insuch a big city you might not, though maybe----"

  The listener started, then looked keenly into the innocent face bendingtoward him from the broncho's back.

  "Suppose I do know a syndicate--a company--not an individual, which isinterested in Paraiso? Can you tell me anything about such a place? Untillast night I had no idea that I had come anywhere near to it, and thenby accident, hearing Antonio Bernal mention it as his. Is it hereabouts?"

  Jessica turned her horse about in a circle, rapidly swinging her pointingarm to indicate every direction of the compass.

  "Know it? It is there, and there, and there--everywhere. The veryrichest tract of land in all the country, my father believed. Sobranteis the heart of it, he said, but the rest of the valley is even betterthan Sobrante. It is so big one can hardly believe. He said there wasroom in it, and a little ranch apiece, for every poor down-troddenman--not bad men, but poor gentlemen, like worn-out lawyers and doctorsand--and nice folks--and make a new home in which to live at peace.He said there were plenty of people always ready to help the very poorand ignorant, but nobody so willing to help gentlefolks without money.That's why he asked a lot of rich people he used to know in New Yorkto buy Paraiso. He gave it its name, himself, and he believed thatthere might be really gold somewhere in it. There's everything else,you see. But it was a name of 'syndicate' he talked about most andwas most grieved by because the money to buy it had not been sent as ithad been promised."

  "Poor child!"

  "Beg pardon?"

  "It was nothing. I was thinking. So this 'Mr. Syndicate' never sentthe money your father hoped for?"

  "No. It was a great disappointment. Antonio had charge of all theletters, only he; so there could have been nobody careless enough tolose them had any come. Father left all the writing to Antonio, for hewas nearly blind, you know. That's how he came to get hurt. He couldnot see and his horse stepped over the ledge and somebody brought himhome that way. Poor mother!"

  "Poor mother, indeed!" echoed Mr. Hale, with something like a groan.

  "Thank you for caring about it," said Jessica, quickly touched byhis ready sympathy. "But she says her life now must be to carry on allfather's work, and I shall help her. In that way it will be always as ifhe were still with us. Oh! see! That's Stiffleg's track! Ephraim Marshhas passed this way! Maybe I shall find him at the Winklers' cabin!Would you mind hurrying, just a little bit?"

  "I'll do my best, little lady. But I'm a wretched horseman, I fear."

  "Oh! you'll learn. If you would only let yourself be easy andcomfortable. But, beg pardon, you do it this way--so stiff, withyour hands all clinched. Your horse feels that something's wrong, andthat's why he fidgets so. You should get Samson to show you how.He's a magnificent rider. I'll coax hi
m to do some tricks for you,to-night, when we get through supper. I'm off. Just drop all care andlet the horse do the work and--catch me if you can."

  As they approached the foothills they had dropped into a little hollowwhere the sandy ground was moist and retained an impression distinctly,and it was thus that Jessica's keen eyes discovered the peculiarfootprints of "Forty-niner's" halting steed. But she quickly forgotthese in the interest of the race she had started and was now bentupon nothing save beating Mr. Hale at the goal, the miner's cabin.

  "He has by far the better horse. He ought to win, but he shall not--hecan't. He mustn't! Go, Buster! A taste of Elsa's honey if you getthere first!"

  Bending forward the girl rested her cheek against the broncho's neckand, as if the touch fired him with new ambition, he shot forward soswiftly that the question of winning was soon settled. However, Mr.Hale's own pride was touched, and he put to the test the advice justgiven him, and with such good results that he, too, soon came in sightof a small house at the end of the trail, a dark hole in the mountainside, and a group of people eagerly surrounding his little guide.

  Indeed, Elsa had already drawn the child upon her capacious lap, and wastenderly smoothing the tumbled curls with her hard hand, while she askedendless questions, yet waited for no answers.

  Till, suddenly remembering, Lady Jess demanded:

  "But have you seen our Ephraim? Is he here? Has he been here?"

  Elsa's fat form grew quite rigid and her hand ceased its caressingstroke. Not for her to betray the confidence of one who had taken refugewith her.

  "Why ask that? What if he has and is? Is he not the old man, already?Even here there is no room for the old. When one is fifty one should die.That would be wisdom."

  "Elsa Winkler, nonsense! That's not polite for me to say, but it'strue. You're fifty, yourself, I guess, and you don't want to die, doyou?"

  Elsa shivered slightly. "When the right time comes and the usefulnessis past. As the Lord wills."

  Jessica laughed and kissed the woman's cheek, then sprang to the ground,demanding:

  "Where is he? For he's mine, you know. He belongs to Sobrante justas much the sunshine does. If he'd loved us as we love him he'd nothave ridden away in the night time just because of one little bit o'note. Wherever you've hidden him you must find him for me, and he's togo straight away back with me. With us, I mean, for here comes a--afriend of ours; I guess he is. Any way he's a guest and you must makehim a cup of your very best coffee, and Otto must show him his carvedclock that he is making. He's a pleasant gentleman, and so interestedin everything, it's fun to tell him things. In that New York, wherehe came from, they don't have much of anything nice. No ostriches,nor mines, nor orange groves. Fancy! and he doesn't know--he's onlyjust learning to ride a horse!"

  As Mr. Hale now approached, this description ceased and Jessica presentedhim to her mountain friends:

  "This is dear Elsa Winkler, and 'her man,' Wolfgang. AndOtto--where's Otto gone? He needn't be shy. Mr. Hale would like tosee the carvings and the knittings, and maybe, go down the shaft.But first of all, he'd like the coffee, Elsa, dear."

  The portly Dutchwoman, whose needles could click as fast as her tongue,now thrust the stocking, at which she had resumed working the momentJessica left her lap, into her apron pocket and waddled inside the cabin.Already she was beaming with hospitality and calling in harsh chiding tothe invisible Otto:

  "You bad little boy, where are you at already? Come by, soon's-ever,and lay the dishes. Here's company come to the house and nobody but theold mother got a grain of sense left to mind them. Wolfgang! Wolfgang!Hunt the child and set him drawing a tether o' milk from Gretchen, thegoat. Ach! but it shames my good heart when my folks act so foolish, andthe Lady Jess just giving the orders so sweet."

  Wolfgang heard his wife's commands and obeyed them after his own manner,by lifting his mighty voice and shouting in his native _patois_--"Littleheart! Son of my love! Come, come hither."

  But he did not, for all that, cease from his respectful attention to thestranger, for whom he had promptly brought out the best chair he owned,and whose horse he had taken to a shaded spot and carefully rubbed downwith a handful of dried grass.

  Presently, the "child" appeared, and the Easterner flashed a smiletoward Jessica, whose own face was dimpled with mirth; for the "child,"Otto, proved to be a gaunt six-footer, lean as he was long, and with amanly beard upon his pink and white face. He shambled forward on hisgreat feet and shyly extended his mighty hands.

  Mr. Hale grasped them heartily, eager to put the awkward youth at ease;and, nodding toward the chair from which he had risen, exclaimed:

  "So, you are he who does that beautiful carving! I congratulate you onyour skill, and I hope you will have some trifle of your work to sell atraveler. I've never seen finer."

  Otto flushed with pleasure and was about to reply, but again Elsacommanded:

  "Milk the goat, little one. After the guest feeds let the householdtalk."

  As if he had been the "child," the "little heart," his parents calledhim he obediently entered the cabin, tied an apron before his lank bodyand spread a tablecloth. Then, as deftly as if he had been a girl, hearranged it with the three cups and plates the family possessed, took hismother's cherished spoons from her chest, and, taking a small pail,sought the goat, Gretchen.

  "Now, I'm in for it," thought Mr. Hale, regretfully. "My poordyspepsia! Coffee, honey, and goat's milk! A combination to kill.But even if it is, one must respond to such whole-souled hospitality asthis."

  Jessica had no such qualms; and, indeed, the refreshment which hervisitor forced himself to accept was far more palatable than he had daredexpect; and, besides, he now brought to it that astonishing appetitewhich had come to him on this eventful trip. When the luncheon wasdisposed of, Dame Elsa held an exhibition of her wonderful knitting andit seemed to the unappreciative stranger that a small fortune must havebeen expended in yarns, and that even in this wilderness one might beextravagant and wasteful.

  "My wife would know more about such things than I do, but I should thinkyou might easily stock a whole shop with your tidies and things."

  "Man alive, do I not? Didst think it was for the pleasure of one'sself the fingers are always at toil? Ach! Yet, of course, how could apoor man from a far city understand! It is Elsa's knitting, and Elsa'sonly, will all the tourists have who come to Sobrante; and in that LosAngeles, so distant, where the master went but once every year already,there is a merchant buys all. Ay. See here. I show you!"

  "I--I don't really care--I mean--ought we not to be going, Jessica?"cried Mr. Hale, hopelessly, foreseeing another exhibition of "trash,"as he considered it.

  But Elsa could not conceive that everybody should not be interested inall that concerned everybody else; and, besides, this was quite anothermatter. One for pride, indeed, beyond the accomplishment of the mostdifficult "lacework" or "overshot" stitch.

  From the same chest in which her precious half-dozen plated spoons hadreposed she now drew forth a buckskin sack; and, from this, with radianteyes fixed on Mr. Hale's own, another bag, knitted, of course, andseemingly heavy. Sitting before him she spread her own apron over herguest's knees and poured therein a goodly pile of gold and silver coins.With a little catching of his own breath the lawyer realized that amongthese were many eagles and double eagles.

  "Why, this is wealth. This is _money_. I can see now, after our paperbills and 'checks' how real this seems. You are a fortunate woman, DameElsa. Now, I begin to respect your 'tidies' and notions as things ofmoment. Did you earn it all?"

  "Ach! wait. There is more already. This but begins; and it is for thechild. Some day, when there is enough, he shall this mine buy and themachinery hire, and the workmen. Then he will repay to the mistress ofSobrante, and our Lady Jess, all that their dead man spent for us. More.He will make the great money--this but leads the way. Wait."

  Trustful and eager of appreciation, which came so rarely into herisolated life, the woman thrust her hand again into t
he buckskin sack,her shining eyes still fixed upon the stranger's face, and her fingersfumbling nervously in the depths of the narrow bag. Her excitementand delight communicated itself to him, and he found himself watchingher broad, beaming face with intense curiosity.

  But--the face was changing. The light was dying out of the sparklingeyes, an ashy color succeeding the ruddy hue of the fat cheeks.Bewilderment, then anxiety, then terror.

  "Why, good Elsa, what is it?"

  "Gone--gone--but I am robbed, I am ruined! Mein Gott, man! Littleone--lost, lost, lost!"

  With a shriek the poor creature sprang up, and in so doing scattered farand wide the coins she had already poured into her apron, but heedednothing of this as she rushed frantically out of doors.