Hope Hathaway Part 28

Jim McCullen made no reply, but good-naturedly headed his horse toward a tiny stream that trickled down a coulee near by. Mrs. Van Rensselaer followed, heaving a tired sigh of relief, as she slipped down upon the moist, flower-dotted meadows beside the stream.

"Oh, this is an awful undertaking," she declared, wetting her handkerchief in the water and carefully wiping her forehead.

"I thought you was pretty brave to venture it," replied old Jim, from a short distance below, where he was watering the horses. "It's a hot day and a dry wind. I told you just how it'd be."

"I suppose it is some comfort to you to refer to that fact, but it doesn't make me any the less tired or cross. Yes, I'm cross, Mr.

McCullen. It has been downright rude of Hope to stay away like this all summer. Of course it's possible she may have her reasons for that, but _I_ never put in such a pokey time before in all my life! I couldn't go back to New York without seeing her, and then Sydney told me that if I went up there I might be able to coax her to leave the place. But she's been there so long now--a couple of months, isn't it?--that I can't see what difference it would make if she stayed a little longer. I did want to see her, though, before I went home, so I decided I'd undertake this journey. What about this protegee of hers--this German girl she's taken to raise? Sydney said she was a pretty little thing with hair the color of mine," shaking back her fluff of fair hair, "and eyes like a 'deep blue lake.' That's all I could get out of him--'eyes like a deep blue lake!' That settles it! When a fellow begins to rhapsody over eyes like a deep blue lake, it's a good sign he's cast his anchor right there.

Well, it'll be a good thing for Sydney."

"She's a right smart young lady," remarked McCullen. "Hope thinks a sight of her. She can ride a little, but she ain't goin' to learn to shoot worth a cent. Hand ain't steady 'nough. They ain't many wimmen in the world can shoot like Hope, though! She beats 'em all!"

"You ought to be awfully proud to think you taught her."

"Proud!" said old Jim, his voice deep with emotion; "I reckon I'm proud of her in every way--not just because she can shoot. They ain't no one like her! I couldn't think no more of her if she was my own, ma'am."

"It must be nice to feel that way toward someone," mused the lady, from the gra.s.s. "She thinks everything of you, too. It seems natural for some people to take a kindly, loving interest in almost everyone. There are only two people I have ever known toward whom I have felt in anything approaching that manner. Hope and Larry O'Hara. I have often fancied they would make an ideal couple." Jim McCullen shook his head doubtfully, but Mrs. Van Rensselaer, unnoticing, continued: "And even Larry deserted the ranch. He's been gone for two weeks. It's about time I came to look everyone up!" She pinned back the fluffy hair from her face, adjusted her hat, unclasped a tiny mirror and powder puff from her wrist, and carefully dusted every portion of her pretty face.

McCullen, who had witnessed the operation several times before along the road that day, ceased to stare in wonderment, and very politely looked across the rolling hills in the opposite direction. It never occurred to Clarice Van Rensselaer that anyone could have found amus.e.m.e.nt in the proceedings. In fact, she never thought of it at all, but dabbed the powder puff quite mechanically from force of habit.

After laughing to himself and giving her time enough to complete her toilet, he led her horse up, remarking:

"We'd better be movin', er like enough we won't get there till after dark."

Mrs. Van Rensselaer sighed, regained her feet, and suffered herself to be helped to the saddle.

"I reckon you won't find O'Hara up there," remarked Jim McCullen some time later. "Two evenings ago he rode over on Fox Creek, there on the reservation, where them soldiers are out practicin'. Lieutenant Harvey come over to camp an' he rode back with him, bein's he was acquainted.

It ain't more'n eight mile from camp. Mebby you could ride over there if you wanted." This suggestion was offered with the faintest smile beneath his gray mustache. "It's a mighty fine chance to see them soldiers drillin' 'round the hills, playin' at sham battles and the like."

"It would probably be a pleasing sight to see them," replied Clarice Van Rensselaer, "but I prefer an easy chair with plenty of cushions instead."

"I don't like to discourage you, but I don't reckon you'll find many cushions where you're goin'," said old Jim.

"How much farther is it?" demanded the lady.

"Oh, not very fur, 'bout three mile, er a little further," replied her companion; thereupon Mrs. Van Rensselaer rode on for some time in scornful, silent resignation.

When they reached the Harris ranch they found groups of men lounging about everywhere.

It looked as though most of the inhabitants of the mountains had congregated there on this especial evening. Mrs. Van Rensselaer gasped in astonishment, and even McCullen, used as he was to seeing men gathered about the place, looked surprised and wondered what had been going on to bring such a crowd.

Mrs. Van Rensselaer gathered her skirts closely about her, as if in fear they would brush against some of the rough-looking men that moved back from the path as McCullen led her to the house. A couple of pigs chased by a yellow pup ran past her, then an Indian woman opened wide the main entrance of the abode and shooed out some squawking chickens, which flew straight at the visitor. Mrs. Van Rensselaer hesitated in dismay, and turned a white, startled face to McCullen.

"This ain't nothin' at all," he a.s.sured her. "Go right on in. I reckon we'll find Miss Hope to home."

She drew back still farther. "You go first," she implored fearfully.

McCullen smiled, and picked his way into the house, followed closely by his companion, who clung to his coat.

Reaching the interior he seated Mrs. Van Rensselaer upon a bench, and went in search of the Indian woman, who had disappeared at the first sight of the visitors.

"She's out," he announced, returning after a moment. "They say she and the little German girl went out on their horses some time ago. I suppose you'll have to wait here till she gets back. You ain't afraid, be you?"

"Do you mean that I'll have to wait here _alone_?" she inquired, frightened.

"I'll stay around fer a spell," said McCullen kindly. "There ain't nothing to get nervous about." He opened the door of an adjoining room and beckoned to a breed girl, who was lulling a child to sleep in an Indian hammock. "Come in and keep this lady company. She's come to see Miss Hathaway," he said. The girl entered the room shyly--reluctantly.

Jim McCullen pulled his hat over his eyes and turned to the door. "I'll look about a bit an' see if she's comin'," he said, then went out of the house.

The girl was shy, and stood awkwardly in the doorway with downcast eyes, not daring to look up at the visitor. Clarice fancied herself too tired to talk, so sat on the bench and leaned back against the white-washed logs. Quiet pervaded until a pig poked open the door and looked inquisitively into the room.

"Oh, drive that animal out!" exclaimed Clarice, "he's coming straight at me!"

The girl gave the pig a poke that sent it grunting away, then closed the door and placed a box before it to keep it shut.

"Will you kindly take me to Miss Hathaway's apartment?" asked Mrs. Van Rensselaer.

The breed girl looked bewildered. "_To where?_" she asked.

"To her room," requested the lady, less politely. "I suppose she has a room in this place, has she not? I should like to rest for a few moments."

"It's right there," said the girl shortly, pointing at a door.

"Right there!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer crossly. "Why didn't you tell me so before?"

Clarice opened the door and gasped in wonder. A vision of Hope's room at the ranch, with all its dainty accessories, came before her, and she thought of the girl's love of luxury and comfort. Everything was clean here, she a.s.sured herself with another glance around--spotlessly clean and neat, which could not be said of the room she had just left. There was a bed, a chair, a box and some boards covered with cheese-cloth, that served as a dressing table. Not a picture adorned the wall or an ornament of any description was to be seen.

Mrs. Van Rensselaer walked all around the little room to satisfy herself that she had missed nothing. Some newspapers were fastened to the wall upon one side, and over them hung a few garments, which in turn were carefully covered by a thin shawl, with a view, no doubt, to keep out the dust. That was probably an idea of the German girl's, thought Clarice, and rightly, too, for to Louisa also was due the well scrubbed boards of the floor, the shining window panes, and the general neatness which pervaded the poor chamber.

Mrs. Van Rensselaer seated herself upon a box and gazed long and earnestly at her reflection in a small hand mirror which hung over the dressing table.

"You haven't the features of a fool," she remarked to herself, "but you've added two new wrinkles by this tom-foolery to-day, and you ought to be satisfied by this time that you're not fit to take care of yourself! But I suppose it's satisfying to know you're doing missionary work. Missionary work, indeed, for a girl who hasn't as much sense for staying in this place as you have for coming! By the time you get home you'll have two more wrinkles, and it'll take a month to get back your good looks again! Well, you always were foolish!"

So saying she turned away from the mirror and looked longingly at the bed. Just then her eyes became fastened, wide and terrified, upon the head of a small gray animal protruding from the corner of the floor behind the bed. She watched it, spell-bound by fear, as it drew its fat body through a hole in the floor and ran across the room. Suddenly with a terrible shriek she threw herself upon the bed. The pack-rat ran back to its hole and made its exit without loss of time, but Clarice sobbed aloud in hysterical fear. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and a weather-browned, dark-haired girl knelt beside the bed and took the frightened woman in her arms.

CHAPTER XXIV

"Clarice, dear," said Hope, "what _is_ the matter?"

"Oh," sobbed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "_did_ you see it--_did you see it_? A terrible thing! A terrible thing!"

"But _what_?" asked the girl wonderingly, "what could have frightened you so, _here_?"

Clarice, still hysterical, only sobbed and was quite incoherent in her explanation. Hope looked stern, as though facing an unpleasant problem which baffled her for the time. Louisa had entered the room and stood quietly to one side, looking in much surprise from one to the other. For a moment Mrs. Van Rensselaer's sobs ceased.

The German girl touched Hope gently upon the shoulder.