Jessica, the Heiress Part 15

"What fresh calamities you two fetchin', now?"

They told him, as briefly as possible, and he found his own perplexity increased as he demanded:

"What in creation is to be done? Here's Pedro gone and died in the most unhandy place and time; and here be you two, with not a decent leg between you, twenty miles from home, and one horse for the three of us!"

At the word "horse" poor Marty winced, as from a personal blow, while both he and Ephraim were greatly amazed at the news of the shepherd's death. They began to feel, as John had said, that "nothing save disaster was meant for Sobrante folks;" yet, after a moment, "Forty-niner" perceived another side of the matter, and expressed himself thus:

"What's got into the pack of us? Seems if we'd lost our gumption.

After all, couldn't anything have happened likelier, so far forth as I see. John Benton, you light off Moses and help this man into your saddle. He'll ride home and I'll walk alongside, whilst you tramp on to Marion. There's a mare there, named Jean. She was offered to me, but I was in a hurry and didn't accept. However, the offer is due to hold good for any of our folks. Light, I tell you. Marty's about played out."

Indeed, the respite came none too soon. The worst injury the gardener had sustained was, apparently, of the head, and a terrible dizziness rendered his progress on foot almost impossible. He would not have been able to accomplish this much of the journey, save for the continual help of Ephraim, who was himself burdened with the heavy pack and unwilling to relinquish it.

John stepped down and swung his fellow ranchman up to Moses' back; then placed the bundle before the rider, turned the animal's head toward Sobrante, and chirruped:

"Giddap! Home's the word!"

Moses needed no second urging, but was off at a gallop, leaving the others to discuss the situation a bit further, and Ephraim to follow at his leisure.

There was little more to be said, however, and soon each was pursuing diverging routes and each at his swiftest pace.

At Marion, John had the mail pouch unlocked and examined, and was satisfied that some letters had been tampered with. These contained orders for house supplies and had been accompanied by checks, as was evident from the wording of the orders. The checks had been removed, and this fact proved to the carpenter that the hand of Antonio Bernal was in the matter, because the late manager might indorse them without arousing the bank's suspicion, as n.o.body else could.

Yet there was one thing he did not mention, even to the postmaster; and that was the package which Jessica's letter to Ninian Sharp had spoken of. This had disappeared entirely. The fact troubled him more than the loss of the checks, for he could stop the payment of these, but whether the little captain had sent the whole of their only specimen of the copper to her city friend or not was a serious question.

However, he did what he could; and almost for the first time in his life used the telegraph as well as the post. To pay for his long and rather ambiguous messages he borrowed money of the mystified Aleck McLeod; and the local operator found himself busier than he had ever been since the establishment of the office.

The other sad business that had brought him to the town was also transacted; and by the time all was arranged John was very glad to avail himself of Jean's services, slow though she was. Upon her sedate back he arrived at Sobrante, just as the sun was setting, and found that the household had temporarily forgotten their grief for Pedro in their rejoicing over Ephraim.

"It's an up and a down in this world," quoth Aunt Sally, spreading and admiring the brilliant bits of calico which "Forty-niner" had given her. "Life ain't all catnip anyway you stew it. Them that laugh in the morning gen'ally cry before night, and vicy-versy. But, Gabriella, do, for goodness' sake, just fetch out that queer kind of stick that old Indian made a sort of graven image of and show it to Mr. Ma'sh. It's a curiosity, being so old, if it ain't no more. Worth cherishin', anyhow, 'count of him that give it. I always did admire keepsakes of the departed."

Mrs. Trent smiled, though sadly, and Jessica asked:

"May I get it, mother?"

"Surely. For safety I put it on the top of the tallest bookcase, behind the files of newspapers. You'll likely have to take the little library ladder to reach it; and when you've shown it, put it back in exactly the same spot. It's doubly valuable now, and could not be replaced."

The little captain had scarcely once relinquished the hand of her beloved sharpshooter, since he appeared before them all, and now led him, as if he were another happy playmate, to the designated place.

But when she had reached it, mounted the ladder and carefully felt all over the top of the case, even moving the files in order to examine it the better, she could not find the metal-pointed staff.

Standing on the floor beneath, Ephraim watched her face growing sober and disappointed, as she exclaimed:

"It's gone! It's completely gone!"

"It has, dearie? Well, maybe your mother forgot and put it somewhere else. The likeliest thing in the world to happen, with her mind so upset as it has been. We'll go back and ask her. Don't fret. Probably it wasn't of much account, anyway."

"Oh! but, dear Ephraim, it was! It could point the way to our big fortune that's to be dug out of the ground!"

"What? What is that you say, child? Nonsense. We don't live in the days of witchcraft, and that's what such a performance would mean."

Yet when they had returned to Mrs. Trent and related their misadventure he was startled by hearing that sensible woman tragically exclaim, in contradiction to his own a.s.sertion:

"Lost! Then Sobrante is certainly bewitched!"

CHAPTER XII.

THE REBELLION OF THE LADS

"Thank my stars, I haven't lost my faculty of doing two things to once, nor seein' a dozen!" cried Aunt Sally, as if in response to Mrs.

Trent's exclamation. Then she rose so hastily that her beloved "pieces" fell on the floor and her spectacles slid from the end of her nose, their habitual resting place. "There never was witches on this ranch before, and I reckon I can deal with a few of them that's here now. Edward Trent, Luis Garcia! Where you goin' at? Hey? Hear me? Come right straight back to me this minute, if you know what's good for yourselves!"

All were surprised by this outburst and awaited its result with curiosity.

The two little boys had been suspiciously quiet on the farther end of that long porch where the household practically lived. Mrs. Trent had glanced their way, occasionally, but supposed them to be engrossed by the patent whistle and top which had been found in Ephraim's pack, neatly marked with their respective names. Yet one could not eat tops nor whistles, and their elbows had been seen, from the rear, to move in a suggestive manner.

"They're eatin' somethin' all this time. I wonder what!" had been Mrs.

Benton's private reflection. But when Jessica came back with her report of the lost wand, the elbow action had suddenly ceased; and, after what appeared to be a brief whispered consultation, they had slunk away down the path, Ned trying to help Luis hide something within his blouse, though not, apparently, succeeding.

At the sound of Aunt Sally's voice, indeed, they dropped the box they had been secreting and burst into a paroxysm of giggling, as was their customary receipt of her chiding. The giggle was always destined to end in tears, but this never prevented its recurrence.

"Neddy Trent! If that bad little Garcia boy is doing wrong, it's no need you should be naughty, too. Come back here and show poor auntie what you've got in your blouses."

Wheedling had no more effect than scolding, for with one hug of each other's necks, the children scampered onward, leaving their spoils behind them.

Then Jessica followed to see what this might be, and exclaimed, in some surprise:

"Candy! Where did it come from?"

Now, it happened that such sweets, except of homemade manufacture and on rare occasions, were forbidden the lads, because they were always made ill by them. That is, Luis suffered and Ned was not allowed anything his playmate could not share. All the ranchmen knew Mrs.

Trent's wishes on the subject and heretofore none had ever gone against them. Who had done it now?

Of course, suspicion instantly pointed to "Forty-niner," who indignantly denied that he had brought, or even thought of bringing, anything home which his beloved mistress did not wish there.

"Doesn't anybody trust me any more about anything?" he concluded, wistfully.

The accusation had come from Mrs. Benton, but Gabriella hastened to soothe the sharpshooter, saying:

"We're making mountains out of mole hills, I fear. There, Aunt Sally, never mind. They have left so much behind them on the path that they can hardly have eaten enough to harm them, anyway. Let them go, please."

But the good woman would not drop the subject. Her sharp eyes had not been given her for nothing, and her son always a.s.serted that if his mother had been a man she would have made a first-cla.s.s detective.

Panting and puffing in her haste and curiosity, she hurried to the spilled confections and carefully picked them up; then returned to the porch, significantly holding forth, upon her palm, a specimen of what she had discovered.

"Needn't tell me I didn't smell peppymint! Them's them peppymint rounds with chocolate outsides that I never seen n.o.body eat, on this ranch, 'cept Antonio Bernal. They ain't kept in the store to Marion, and the storekeeper used to send for 'em to Los Angeles, 'specially for his one customer. I know, Antonio offered me some, time and again, on my other visits, but I always thanked him polite and said no. I never did lay out to eat a snake's victuals, and that's what his'n was."

"Oh, what a woman you are, Aunt Sally!" laughed Ephraim.