Blue Bonnet's Ranch Party Part 18

"We ought really to bar all hankies except bandanas," said Blue Bonnet, "but we'll stretch a point for Sarah's sake. She can't help having aristocratic tastes, you know."

Sarah was secretly of the opinion that drawn-work was no more out of place than the many boxes of pinoche and marshmallows that Blue Bonnet packed away in the huge "grub-boxes," but she yielded with her usual good grace.

By Wednesday all was p.r.o.nounced in readiness for the start. Miguel was sent ahead with tents and supplies in one of the big cook-wagons used on the round-ups; with help from Alec and Knight he was to have a camp ready for the rest of the party when they should arrive on the following day.

"I wish Grandmother were not so set on the 'simple life,'" remarked Blue Bonnet, "for I should like to take Juanita along. It's a pity to separate her and Miguel just now, when things are progressing so nicely."

"How do you know?" Kitty looked up quickly.

Blue Bonnet bit her lip. She and Alec had agreed not to tell of the incident of the la.s.so, and she had kept the secret, though she burned to tell the romance-loving We are Sevens. "Just by signs," she answered evasively.

But Kitty could read signs, too, and privately longed to shake the mystery out of her hostess. Suspecting the trend of little Miss Why's thoughts, Blue Bonnet went on hurriedly: "How shall we go--in the buckboard or on horse-back?"

"Horse-back!" exclaimed all four of the others.

"Did I hear you speak, Sarah?" Kitty inquired.

"You did if you were listening," replied Sarah calmly.

"I believe Sarah and Comanche have formed a real attachment for each other," said Blue Bonnet who secretly exulted in Sarah's growing spirit.

"It must be a patent attachment then," laughed Kitty, "--something that keeps Sarah on!"

"Grandmother will have to go in the buckboard--Uncle Joe's going to drive and--" Blue Bonnet did some hasty calculating, "I had better stay with Grandmother--it's smoother riding with two in a seat.

Firefly will hate being led, but I reckon some disciplining won't hurt him."

They were up before dawn in order to complete the first stage of the journey before noon. As they gathered about the lamp-lighted table for breakfast, yawning and rubbing their eyes, Blue Bonnet gave an amused laugh.

"'In _summer_ I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light.'"

she quoted.

"I think it would have been a good plan to have had breakfast before we went to bed," said Sarah. "Thank you, Mrs. Clyde, I will take coffee, I think it will wake me up."

"Never mind," said Blue Bonnet. "You can just alter the lines a bit--

"'In camp it's quite the other way, We'll all go straight to bed by day'--

and make up for the loss of our beauty sleep. And you'll see something worth getting up for later. Sunrise on the prairie, Kitty, makes the Ma.s.sachusetts article look like your pink lawn when it came back from the wash."

They were several miles from the ranch when Uncle Joe raised his quirt and pointed to the east. "There she comes!" he warned.

The whole crowd came to a standstill in the middle of the road in a hush that was almost reverent. Blue Bonnet drew a deep breath. The rolling prairie with the long gra.s.s stirred by the breeze; the peaceful herds just waking into life; the fleecy clouds glowing from buff to rosy pink--she loved it all.

At eleven every one was ravenous and a halt was made for lunch. From that point the journey was hardly so pleasant; the road began to ascend sharply into the st.u.r.dy little range of hills that Texans proudly call mountains, and being less frequented than the county road, was rough and full of surprises in the way of snakes and insects. Sarah was just beginning to wonder if she could survive Comanche's next fright, when a loud "Whoa-o-o-pe!" sounded from somewhere above and ahead of them. Blue Bonnet answered immediately with the ranch-call which she and some of the cowboys had adapted years ago from one of Uncle Joe's old-time songs:

[Ill.u.s.tration: O Ho ye ho ho!]

She had a strong, carrying voice, and the cheery summons of the Twickenham ferryman rang clearly on the air.

The next minute three riders emerged from the trees in whose shade they had been waiting, and galloped to meet the campers.

"It's Alec and Knight," Kitty called from the front. "And there's a girl with them!"

Blue Bonnet shot a quick glance at the approaching trio, and then gave a bounce of delight. That erect little figure, just about her own size, with the two pig-tails flying out behind her as she rode, could be no other than--Carita Judson.

Carita was not so quick at discovering her unknown friend; she gave a bashful, inquiring look at each one of the girls in turn. But as soon as she met Blue Bonnet's eye, full of an eager welcome, she rode straight to the side of the buckboard and held out a slim, brown hand.

"You are--you must be--a Texas Blue Bonnet!"

"And you're Carita,--I'm so glad!" Blue Bonnet took the outstretched hand in both her own and gazed with frank pleasure into the girl's smiling face.

Knight came up beside them and presented his cousin to Mrs. Clyde and the other girls, and after a short but merry halt they prepared to move on. Camp was still at some distance and they must get settled before nightfall.

Sarah came up to the buckboard just as the others were starting. "Do you mind changing places with me, Blue Bonnet?" she asked. "I'm tired of riding."

The look Blue Bonnet gave her was ample reward for what Sarah feared was almost an untruth on her part. She scrambled out of the saddle in a manner that Blue Bonnet would have smiled at ordinarily, but now regarded with sober eyes. The other girls, without giving a thought to her natural wish for a few words with Carita had ridden on in a gay whirl of conversation; Sarah with a thoughtfulness that Blue Bonnet was beginning to believe unfailing, had been the only one to read her unspoken wish.

"Isn't Sarah the dearest?" she whispered to her grandmother.

And Mrs. Clyde, mindful of a former comment of Blue Bonnet's, smiled with amus.e.m.e.nt as she replied--"Not half bad--considering her bringing-up!"

Carita had lingered behind the others and now as she saw Blue Bonnet mount Comanche, she rode back and joined her. They were the last of the procession and practically alone.

"It's so wonderful," Carita's small dark face was alight with pleasure, "--to think of seeing you after--everything!"

They smiled into each other's eyes. Carita did not in the least resemble the Woodford girls. She wore a queer one-piece garment of blue denim, not designed for riding, which pulled up in a bunch on either side of the saddle, showing her feet in thick boyish boots, and an inch or two of much-darned stocking. On her head was an old felt sombrero, sadly drooping as to brim and dented as to crown, secured under her chin by a piece of black elastic. Below it her small face, brown and freckled as it was, was not without a singular attraction.

Her eyes were big and soft, her lips scarlet as holly-berries; and the long braids were very heavy and of a glossy chestnut. In spite of her clumsy costume she rode her wiry little pinto as Western girls ride--thistle-down in the saddle. She was a bit of the prairie herself, and Blue Bonnet saw it and loved her.

"When did you come?" Blue Bonnet asked her.

"Yesterday. And we're to stay over Sunday. Won't we just have to cram the days full?" Carita's eyes were wistful. "For fear we sha'n't have much time alone, I want to tell you how much it has meant to me--your letters, and the dress and the Christmas box and everything. I can't begin to tell you the--difference they have made. We've always had boxes you know--father has no regular salary. But nothing ever came that was half so wonderful. Last winter wasn't a bit like others--it was full of excitement!"

Blue Bonnet smiled, but she felt nearer tears than laughter. Such a little thing to mean so much! For the second time she had a feeling of thankfulness that she was--not poor. Money was certainly worth while when it could give such pleasure. If Miss Lucinda could have read the girl's mind at this moment, she might have felt some doubts as to her niece's ability to profit by the last winter's lesson in New England thrift. Blue Bonnet's only regret was that her purse which had been slipped into the missionary box, had not contained several times as much!

"I was sure we'd know each other, some day--I felt it!" Carita went on in her eager way. "And I believe Knight's meeting you that day was providential!"

"It was certainly providential for Sarah and me," Blue Bonnet laughed.

"We'd have had a pretty spill if it hadn't been for him. But as 'all's well that ends well,' we can consider that everything has been for the best."

"That sounds like father." It seemed to Blue Bonnet that Carita smothered a sigh. "Mother and I aren't always sure that _everything_ is for the best. But father never has the least bit of doubt." Then with a quick return of animation--"I know you'll love the camp. Knight has picked out the loveliest spot for your tents. There--look! You can see the Spring, and that gleam of white through the trees--that's Camp Judson!"

CHAPTER XI

CAMPING BY THE BIG SPRING