CHAPTER XIX
THE SUSPENSE AND WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARDS
PETER DRUMMOND, returning for the two girls with Donald, found Jack. Elizabeth, who had not dared stir, could only point dumbly to the overhanging abyss, without voice to express her terror.
Donald got his sister back to their hotel, and upstairs in the room with her mother, without any member of the caravan party knowing of their return.
In an incredibly short space of time men came with rope ladders to where Peter watched and waited, and one of them brought Jack's body up, putting it gently down on the grass. Some one else explained that a famous doctor who was a guest at the hotel would be with them in a few minutes.
So Mr. Drummond, alone of all her friends, knelt with the strange men trying to find a spark of life in the unconscious form and still, cold face of the girl who had been the embodiment of grace and vitality less than a half hour before.
Jim, Ruth, the three other girls and Carlos were having their breakfast in the dining room, when the head waiter came and told Jim that Mr. Drummond wished to speak to him for a moment alone on business.
No one was in the least uneasy about Jack's failure to return. As it was natural to suppose it would take some time to see Elizabeth escorted home in safety, they had decided not to wait for her. Besides, no one ever thought that anything could happen to Jack; she seemed one of the persons in the world best fitted to care for herself and to help look after other people. Here was the old story once more repeating itself: when the beloved one was in grave danger, as Jack was during the night of her enforced stay in the wilderness, on the trip to Miner's Folly, she had turned up serene and unhurt; now when trouble was the farthest thing from their imagination, she was being brought back to them and no one knew whether she were alive or dead.
One sight of Peter's haggard face told Jim that something had happened, but he supposed Elizabeth Harmon to be the victim. Peter was wise enough not to delay in letting him know the truth. There is no easy way to break bad news, for the shock must always come in the end, so it is best to make the suspense as short as possible. Besides, Mr. Drummond knew that the physician was even now having Jack carried home to the hotel and the little procession might arrive at any moment.
The girls had thought nothing of Jim's disappearance, from the table, but Ruth had not liked the expression on the face of the man who called him away. Suddenly she was seized with a premonition of disaster. Excusing herself, with the explanation that she wanted something in her room, she slipped out after Jim so quietly that neither he nor Mr. Drummond saw or heard her approach until Peter's story was told. And then it was not Ruth, but Jim Colter who broke down. The big, strong man staggered, and such a queer sound came from between his white lips that Ruth laid a shaking hand on him and Mr. Drummond caught him by the arm.
"Remember the girls, Jim," Ruth said almost sternly. "This is the time to think of them, not of our own feelings. Mr. Drummond, I must go back to them first. Will you see that everything is – "
Ruth could not go on, but Peter understood. He was to see that all necessary arrangements were made to receive the doctor, who was still to find out if there was any chance of restoring Jack to consciousness.
By the time Ruth returned to the dining room the news of the accident had somehow spread among most of the guests at breakfast. Only the ranch girls were entirely unconscious. Jean was teasing Frieda and Olive was laughing at them, when Ruth put her hand on Jean's shoulder. "Come out of the room with me as quickly and quietly as possible," she whispered.
"It's Jack, isn't it?" Olive asked with the calmness that so often comes in the first moment of sorrow, and Ruth silently bowed her head.
For an hour Ruth and the girls waited in their room. Ruth and Olive had asked to see Jack, but were not allowed to stay with her. Now and then Mr. Drummond, or Donald Harmon, or Jim would come in to them for a few moments, but would soon slip out again promising to return when there was news. Jean and Frieda cried in each other's arms until they were blind and sick, but neither Olive nor Ruth shed a tear, so differently do people bear trouble. It seemed that half a lifetime must have passed when the door was suddenly flung open and Jim Colter walked into the room and dropped into a chair. The big, weather-beaten man was crying like a child and shaking as though he were in a chill. Frieda ran to him and climbed into his lap, putting her arms about his neck and burying her face on his shoulder. Olive and Jean opened their mouths to speak, but no words came from their dry lips. The hope that had been sustaining them vanished at the sight of Jim's broken appearance. Only Ruth understood.
"Tell us at once, Jim. It isn't fair to make us wait," she said quietly, guessing that his tears were the tears of relief. "She will live?"
Jim nodded. "Jack opened her eyes a minute ago and said, 'Hello, Jim,'" he answered brokenly. "The doctor says she is pretty badly hurt, but she will pull through."
Then Ruth, hardly knowing what she was doing, leaned over and kissed Jim on his forehead under the line of his black hair, and above the level of his deeply blue Irish eyes. Quite unexpectedly she and Olive now began to cry for the first time, while Jean and Frieda and Jim were radiant with relief.
Ten days later the family from the Rainbow Ranch, accompanied by Mr. Drummond, left the Yellowstone Park for a small town on its borders.
Jack was able to be moved, and they had rented a little furnished house on the outskirts of the near-by village, hoping that the quiet and change of scenery might benefit her. She had broken her leg by her fall over the precipice, but something else more serious appeared to be the matter with her, something that the doctor did not exactly understand. She had not been able to sit up since the accident.
A week before the ranch party left the hotel, the Harmons went back to the Lodge. When Don and his mother found they could be of no service, it was thought best to take Elizabeth away, for she had never ceased to insist that the tragedy was her fault and to demand to see Jack; and this was impossible. But Mr. Drummond had stayed on and on. Even after he had seen Jack safely moved he seemed unwilling to leave. The little house was so tiny that there was only room for them and on the front porch for one cot and one chair, but he lived at a hotel and came each day to talk to the invalid and to take the other girls for long walks. Peter had a long, confidential talk with Ruth and Jim, and made them promise that unless Jack grew better after the summer's rest they would bring her on to New York in the fall to consult with famous specialists. He did not dream that they would have to sell a part of the ranch to manage it; but this was what they had quietly made up their minds to do, although Jack was not to be told, for fear of upsetting her, and Jim did not mean to close the bargain with Mr. Harmon until he was able to get back to the ranch.
The tiny house had been a haven of refuge for two weeks when Peter Drummond found that he was obliged to leave. He had persuaded the girls and Ruth to go for a last walk with him, leaving Jim as Jack's guardian. She was asleep on the porch when they slipped out the back door so quietly she had not awakened.
You would hardly have known Jack, so great a change had the last few weeks wrought in her. She had suffered a great deal and the radiant color had gone from her face, leaving it white and drawn; her full, crimson lips were pale and drooping now; her dark, level eyebrows looked like thin lines of black penciling and her lashes made a shadow against the pallor of her cheeks. Only her hair, the color of burnished copper, shone with its old beauty. It was Olive's special care, and now hung in the two familiar braids almost reaching to the porch floor.
Jack had been awake for some time before Jim realized it. She had been very quiet during her illness, and to the relief of them all had asked no questions about herself, apparently taking it for granted that she was not to be allowed to sit up and could only be moved lying down. Jack's leg was in a plaster cast and her friends believed she regarded this as a sufficient reason for being kept perfectly quiet. Yet all the time she knew that had her leg been the only trouble she would have been allowed to get about on crutches and to sit up to eat her meals, instead of being eternally propped on pillows when she tried to stir.
Jack had asked no questions, because she did not wish to give anyone the pain of telling her the truth until she was strong enough to bear it. But there had not been a waking hour in the day or night when the vision of Elizabeth Harmon's misfortune had not been present before her mind, and the idea that she might have a greater sorrow to face. Frank Kent had telegraphed to ask if he might come to his friends, but Jack had asked that he wait; she could not bear to see even him just yet.
Jim Colter's eyes were fixed on Jack as sadly and tenderly as her father's could have been, had he been alive, when unexpectedly she lifted her lashes and her gray eyes met her friends with their old brave spirit. She stared a long time with her lips twitching before she spoke.
"What is it, boss? You've got something on your mind that you want to speak about, haven't you?" Jim inquired gently. "The girls think it's a good sign you don't ask questions, but I'm not so sure. You are like some men. Dear, I know you. You can take your medicine when you have to, but you can't be left in the dark. Ask Jim anything you like, and I promise I'll tell you the truth."
"Are we by ourselves?" Jack asked huskily, and Jim nodded. "Then will you tell me please if I am ever going to be able to walk again?" she queried without hesitating or faltering, keeping her clear eyes still on Jim's.
"We don't know, Jack," Jim replied, like a soldier, "but I believe you will. The doctors we have seen out here don't seem able to say just what is the matter with you. They tell us to give you a chance to get stronger this summer and then take you east."
Jack closed her eyes for a few moments and lay perfectly still. Then she opened them and smiled a queer, little, twisted smile. "We haven't got the money to take me east, pard," she murmured, "and don't you sell any part of our ranch. I'll fool the doctors yet, but if I've got to be – ill," Jack ended, "why I'd rather be sick at home than any place in the world."
Jim cleared his throat and moved his chair so his companion could not look directly at him.
"Pardner," Jack said a few minutes afterwards, "I don't want to be impatient, but I do want to go home now. Couldn't you write and ask Mr. Harmon to give up the ranch a little sooner than October? They can't want to be at Rainbow Lodge as much as I do." She looked at the dark hill that rose straight up in front of their tiny verandah and dreamed of the beautiful, spacious piazza in front of her home, with the grove of cottonwood trees ahead and on every side the stretch of the broad, wind-swept prairies, and sighed.
Jim felt such a rush of anger that his collar choked him. "I have written Mr. Harmon to ask him to let us come back; I knew you was homesick, boss," he returned slowly. "But Mr. Harmon says he can't give up the Lodge until his contract is over, says it's doing his daughter such a lot of good and she hasn't yet recovered from her nervous shock. Fine behavior from a man, when you saved his child's life!"
In half an hour, Ruth, Mr. Drummond, the girls and Carlos came trooping back from an effort to buy out the village. Peter was going to say good-by to Jack, and, as Ruth saw she was even paler than usual, she persuaded Jean to take the two children indoors. They had brought Jack everything they could find in the town, and Olive had a large package addressed to her friend in Elizabeth Harmon's writing, which she found at the post office. Listlessly Jack allowed Olive to cut the string and unwrap the pasteboard from about the flat envelope. Then Olive held up before them all a new and beautiful photograph of the Rainbow Lodge – Aunt Ellen and Uncle Zack were standing in the yard, old Shep was resting on the steps of the porch and there was a suggestion of Jean's and Frieda's violet beds to one side. Poor Elizabeth had thought to give Jack a pleasure, but instead the sight of the home she longed for so intensely was more than the girl could bear after the strain of the afternoon. Suddenly she gave way and sobbed as she had not done since her accident. "I want to go home, I want to go home," Jack repeated, like a sick child.
Ruth dropped on the porch, hiding her face in the shawl that covered Jack. Olive and even Mr. Drummond were too choked to think of anything comforting to say. And as for Jim Colter, he got up and stalked off the verandah, marching up and down in the little yard like a caged animal whose anger and bitterness cannot be quietly endured.
Five minutes later it was surprising to see him reappear with a radiant expression, every wrinkle miraculously smoothed out of his face and his blue eyes smiling. He sat down in his chair and tenderly patted Jack's hand, then struck his knee with such a resounding clap that everybody jumped and Jack laughed.
"What is it, Jim?" she inquired. "I am sorry I have been such a goose."
"Why, I have just been thinking what a parcel of idiots we are," he said happily. "You girls ain't ever thought much of it, but I want you to know that Rainbow Lodge ain't the only house on our place. What's the matter with the rancho? We ain't rented it to the Harmons, and the cowboys would be only too glad to turn out with me into some tents and hand our house over to you girls. What do you say to our taking the train for the Rainbow Ranch about the day after to-morrow? That will give me time to telegraph the boys to vacate. Think you could manage to make the trip in a sleeper, old girl, with me to see after you?" he demanded of Jack.
And the radiance of Jack's face, into which a slow rose color was creeping, was enough answer for them all.
CHAPTER XX
FRANK AND JACK
"OLIVE, Frank, Jean, what's the use of being a professional invalid if I'm to be shamefully neglected?" a gay voice called, and Jacqueline Ralston, who was propped up in a big steamer chair on the porch of the rancho, banged the book she had been reading violently against the railing. A bright colored Mexican shawl covered her knees, she wore a red rose stuck carelessly in her hair, and the verandah on which she was enthroned was like a Spanish, American and Italian curiosity shop. Its rough wooden floor was overlaid with many varieties of Indian blankets, its walls were decorated with arrows, old pistols, a splendid pipe-rack of carved wood filled with discarded pipes, and the skins of wild animals. Every treasure possessed by the cowboys at the rancho had been brought forth to make an outdoor living room for "the boss," which had always been their title of affection for their youthful employer. Two beautiful Spanish crepe shawls were draped artistically over the back of Jack's chair. Years before they had been purchased by two of the boys at the rancho from some Spanish peddlers and now, much to Jack's regret, they insisted that the shawls form a part of her porch decoration. On a table near the invalid sat a big Indian basket of sunflowers, another of oranges and grapes; a pile of magazines, which Frank Kent had ridden many miles to find, lay near a box of candy from Elizabeth Harmon and a vase of red roses sent by Peter Drummond all the way from California. And yet Jack was feeling aggrieved.
The ranch girls had been for little more than a week at the rancho. The third day after their arrival their old friend Frank Kent had appeared, refusing to be kept away any longer. He had expected to find a place to board in the neighborhood so that he could drive over each day to see the girls, but Jim had stored him away in one of the tents, saying he thought it good for the son "of a noble lord" to try roughing it, but really knowing that it would give Frank great pleasure to be with them. And until this morning Frank had never gotten without the sound of Jack's voice if he thought there was any possibility of her needing him.
Jack was already much better and able to sit up with something to act as a brace behind her; she had more color and was beginning to be her old impatient self. Early in the day she had persuaded Ruth to ride out over the ranch with Jim. Ruth was tired, having unpacked and settled them at the rancho, and, besides, Jack was bored with Jim for being so slow in coming to the point with Ruth and wanted to give him another chance. She and Jean had been dreadfully disappointed that nothing had happened on their caravan trip, but Jack had not expected, when Ruth left her, to be deserted by the other ranch girls and Frank, for they had been given strict orders to stay at home and amuse her.
There were no trees to be seen from the front of the rancho as there were at the Lodge, but Jack could feast her eyes on the wide stretches of her beloved plains and see the cattle grazing in the last crop of alfalfa grass, which grows in fullest abundance in late August and is the color of amethyst. No human being was in sight but Carlos, who was playing with a rough, gray-furred animal that looked like a cross and overgrown puppy. It was the baby wolf Carlos had found in the woods on the day he deserted Jack at the gold mine. The boy had desired to introduce it as a member of the caravan family, but, as it had not been found a cheerful traveling companion, Jim had shipped it home to the rancho and the cowboys had been amusing themselves with it. It growled and snapped and bit at everybody who came within reach of its chain, but in queer, silent Carlos it recognized a master spirit in the kinship of the wilderness and played with the boy in a perfectly tame and friendly way, as though he were its big brother.
"Come here, Carlos," Jack cried, "and please tell me what has become of everybody. There doesn't seem to be a soul around the place except you."
"I was told to stay near you," Carlos answered obediently. "Miss Jean said they were just homesick for a sight of the ranch and were going for a little walk. They would be back before you could miss them, for the two ladies from Rainbow Lodge are coming to see you. They should have come before so long a time."
"How did the girls and Mr. Kent get away without my knowing?" Jack demanded wrathfully.
"By the trail that leads from the back door," Carlos returned calmly, and then as Jack seemed to have no more questions to ask, he returned to playing with his wolf dog.
Jack's face clouded and she sighed mournfully.
"How beastly selfish of everybody to leave me alone!" she thought angrily. "Ruth and Jim would be awfully cross if they knew. Of course Mrs. Harmon and Elizabeth are nice and sympathetic, but I don't feel as though I wanted to see them to-day. Beth isn't half so difficult as she used to be and is ever so much stronger, but she will talk about our accident all the time and Mrs. Harmon looks like she wanted to cry every time she glances at me. Oh, dear me, how I do hate to be pitied – it is almost the hardest thing I have to bear! I wonder if I ever will get used to it." And Jack put her thin hands, from which the brown strength had faded, over her flushed cheeks. "Anyhow, I am glad Jim has promised to wait a little longer before he sells any part of our ranch to the Harmons, though he says Mr. Harmon has offered him more money if we will make up our minds at once. I suppose if I don't get a lot better pretty soon I will have to give up in the end and let Jim sell, since everybody wants to except me and I know they want to do it on my account."
For a few minutes Jack tried to find solace in the pages of her discarded book, but she sighed so heavily that the leaves fluttered.
"It's the dullest thing I ever read in my life," she said resentfully. "How I hate stories about wooden girls, who never have adventures or excitement in their lives, but just go to sewing circles and nice little picnics, where grown people preach to them about feminine ideals! It's like that tiresome poem, 'Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,' – as though one couldn't be good and clever too! There is no special glory in being good just because you are dull, and I sha'n't be any longer," Jack announced, flinging her book against the wall of the rancho with all the force she could muster.
"What's the matter, Jack?" Frank Kent asked, suddenly appearing around a corner of the house. "Do you wish anything?"
Jack had the grace to laugh at herself, though her eyes were filled with tears. "No, there is nothing really the matter, Frank. I am not in pain nor anything like that," she answered, "so you need not look so sympathetic. I have just been feeling sorry for myself because all of you were wicked enough to take a walk about the dear old ranch when I could not go with you. And I used to think Elizabeth Harmon dreadfully silly when she was cross or complained. You see, I am finding out it is much easier to preach than to practice."
"Why, Jack, you didn't think we would be horrid enough to desert you," Frank protested. "It is rather my fault that you have been by yourself this long. Jean and Olive and I talked things over and thought it would be all right, so I sent them off for a walk with Donald Harmon and I slipped up to the Lodge and borrowed Elizabeth's cart. How would you like to drive down to Rainbow Creek and see if we can find the others?" Frank suggested casually, as though his request was a perfectly ordinary one.
Jack stared at him in amazement, her face radiant with pleasure, and then she shook her head nervously. She never had been farther than the front porch since her arrival at the rancho and now felt afraid to make the attempt.
"I don't think I dare try it, Frank," she returned wearily.
"All right. What shall we do – read or play cards or just talk?" he demanded cheerfully.
"Just talk," Jack answered. "Isn't it dreadful, Frank, but I have never liked sitting-still things in my life, reading or sewing or quiet games. Maybe my being sick will give me a chance to improve my mind," she added more courageously, seeing a shadow cross Frank's face.
At this moment Elizabeth Harmon's low governess cart drawn by a small ranch pony and driven by Uncle Zack came trotting down the road which led from the Lodge to the rancho.
"Come along, Jack, do. I'll take good care of you," Frank urged. "Uncle Zack and I can lift you in the cart and make you comfortable and it will do you lots of good to see the old creek and find out that you can get about the ranch even in this poor way."
"You are awfully good, Frank," Jack said gratefully, sitting up straighter than usual, so that one of her sofa cushions slid out on the floor. Uncle Zack had stopped the pony in front of the porch, gotten out, and Carlos was holding it. Jack put out both arms toward Frank and Uncle Zack as naturally as a child, though a few weeks before there was nothing she felt she needed anyone's help to do. "Put me in the cart," she begged wistfully. "I am sure it won't hurt me and I'd rather see the sun glisten like gold on Rainbow Creek than any other sight in the world."
Frank drove slowly across a bridge that had been recently built over Rainbow Creek and along the path on the opposite side, where the girls used so often to ride. The sun was shining and the muddy water looked to Jack's adoring and homesick eyes like a stream of pure gold. Carlos sat on the floor of the cart and Jack was arranged like an Indian princess on one of the long side seats with her shawls and cushions around her.
"Oh, my goodness!" Jack said suddenly and turned so white that Frank reined in his pony and looked almost as pale as his companion.
"You don't feel ill, Jack, please say you don't," he begged boyishly, "or Mr. Colter and Miss Ruth will never forgive me for running off with you like this. We can go right back home now if you like."
Jack shook her head, smiling. "Oh, no, there is nothing the matter. I am just beautifully comfortable and happier than I have been in a long time," she insisted. "But I was thinking that one morning Olive and Jean and I were riding along here, and over by the big rock we saw the fellow called 'Gypsy Joe' washing some stones and gravel in the creek. There was nothing so remarkable in his performance, but the thought of him reminded me of the fortune his mother told me the day before. The old gypsy did not like me and said I was so independent I was going to be forced to depend on other people. It is silly of me to think she could have had a premonition of my accident, isn't it? Have you seen this 'Gypsy Joe' around the ranch since you have been here, Frank?" Jack ended.
"Yes, twice. I believe Mr. Colter intends to look him up to-day and make him clear out. Suppose we rest here a while. Perhaps the girls may come along this way," Frank replied.
"Frank, there is the very pan 'Gypsy Joe' used when he was hunting for gold in our creek," Jack explained, pointing ahead. "Do get it for me. It's battered and ancient enough to look as though it belonged to the iron age and I'd like to see it."
Glad to see Jack taking an interest in little things again, Frank Kent hopped obediently out of the cart, giving the reins to Carlos.
"Climb into the rock there where it splits in two and forms a ravine and see if it's a golden treasure house, as the story books say," Jack suggested carelessly.
Picking up the old pan, the young man clambered easily into the open ledge of rock and got down on his knees among the bits of gravel and loose earth. The sun must have been shining more brilliantly on Rainbow Creek to-day than it ever shone on the rainbow rocks of the Yellowstone Park, for Frank imagined he could see tiny yellow veins running like threads through the big, gray rock and grains of golden dust mixed with the sand and pebbles in the crevices.
Jack laughed as she saw him hammering off small pieces of the rock with the end of his pocket knife. "Got the gold microbe too, Frank? Come on, don't let's wait any longer," she begged.
Apparently Frank Kent, who was a cool, clear-headed fellow, lost his mind, for he paid not the least attention to his companion, but filled his pan with bits of stone, sand and gravel from the big rock and marched to the edge of the creek. Quietly he held the pan on a level with the surface of the water and let it gradually sink until it filled with water; then he lifted it out, tipped it to one side and, as far as Jack could see from the cart, spilled all the water, mud and sand, so carefully collected, on the ground.
"Please hurry, Frank," Jack called, crossly this time. "I am getting tired and want to go back home."
When the young man returned to her he held out the tin pan she had wished for a souvenir, with an expression so unusual that the girl stared at him.
"What is it, for goodness' sake, Frank?" she demanded petulantly. Then even her indifferent eyes beheld small particles of a yellow metal clinging to the bottom of the old tin pan.
"There is gold in Rainbow Creek, Jack!" Frank remarked with the quiet self-control she once disliked in him. "I don't know how much, of course, and it may be in such small quantities that it will amount to nothing. We must not get too excited, but I have not been studying gold mining in Colorado all summer without learning something about it. Let's don't say anything of our discovery just yet. I will take you home now and come back this afternoon to see what I can find out. If Rainbow Creek is bringing gold down from the mountains back of it or gathering it from the rocks and soil along its shores you may be able to do some placer mining that will make you richer than your wildest dreams."
The two young people hardly dared speak of their hopes on their drive to the rancho, and Carlos was solemnly sworn to secrecy. They were both excited, but Frank feared he had done wrong in agitating Jack before he was sure of his discovery, and Jack dared not trust herself to think of what the finding of gold on their ranch might mean in its effect on their future.
As soon as Jack was safe at home with Olive, Jean and Frieda, Frank disappeared. At supper time he had not come back to the rancho; the evening wore on until it was the hour for the invalid to be put to bed, and still he had not come. Jack was feeling sure that Frank had made a mistake and glad they had kept their idea to themselves so that no one should share their disappointment, when the door of the small sitting room at the rancho opened and Frank Kent walked quietly in. His first glance was for Jack, and his face was so pale and serious the others feared some misfortune.
The living room of the rancho was an odd place and yet a fitting one for Frank's disclosure. The room was small, of rough pine boards, with bright chromos and photographs of famous horses tacked on its walls. The chairs were worn and the other odd bits of furniture as primitive as possible. But to-night a bright fire glowed in the big fireplace. Jack lay on an old leather lounge with a rose-colored shawl draped over her, Jean sat at her feet, and Frieda and Olive were on sofa cushions before the fire. Jim was smoking comfortably in the corner, his face almost in shadow, yet wearing an expression of happiness that glowed like an inner radiance. His eyes were fixed on Ruth, though she alone was restless to-night and kept flitting about on unnecessary errands, with her cheeks deeply flushed from her long day out of doors.
Frank walked directly up to Jim Colter.
"Mr. Colter," he announced without wasting time, "I find you have gold on the Rainbow Ranch. I have been examining the bed of your creek all afternoon and as far as I can tell it is encrusted with fine particles of gold. I don't want you to trust to my judgment, but I do want you to send immediately for some one who knows more of placer mining than I do, for I believe we are on the verge of a great discovery."