Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 10

I know you said something about 'arrears' last night, but I didn't understand. What are 'arrears,' Samson?"

"Blow me, for an old numskull. Why couldn't I keep my long tongue still! I only meant that we are willing, we want, we must work for you and all the Trents for nothing till we've made up part to 'em of what that sweet 'senor' cheated 'em of. That's all. We've settled it.

No use for anybody to try change our minds, even if there was spot cash lying around loose, waiting to be picked up and you havin' no call for it. Not one of which conditions. .h.i.ts the case."

"You are a good talker, dear old Samson, and a long one. I can talk, too, sometimes. Maybe you've heard me! You've read me your chart. Hear mine. It's my father's own--that he always meant, but was never able to follow. That I know my mother wants to follow for his sake, though she does know so little of business. Now, if we're starting fresh, with the clean slates you like, we'll put this at the top: 'share and share alike.' There was another long name dear father used to call it--I----"

"Co-operation," suggested John Benton.

"Yes, yes. That's it. As soon as he was out of debt and had a right to do what he would with Sobrante, he meant to run it that way. But you know, you know. It was only that last day when he came home so late from that far-off town that he had his own 't.i.tle' and was all ready to do as he wished. Let us do that now. I know how. He told me. He was to make you, Samson, responsible for all the cattle on the ranch. You were to hire as many of the other boys as you needed and were to have a just share for your own money. The more you made out of the cattle the better it would be for yourself. Isn't that right?"

"Right to a dot. Atlantic! but you've a head for business, captain!"

"I've a head must learn business, if I'm to be your captain. That is true enough. It isn't my father's fault if I don't know some simple things. He was always teaching me, because Ned was too little and my mother--well, business always worried her and he'd do anything to save her worry, even talk to a little girl like me. And as Samson was to do with the cattle, so George Cromarty was to do with the raisins and oranges. The ostriches--Oh! but they were to be Antonio's charge. And now----"

"They're yours, captain, with any one or lot of us you choose for helpers."

"Ferd knew much about them, and they minded him. But----"

"Ferd'll trouble Sobrante none while the senor is away. Joe is a good hand at all live stock, and I'll pledge you'll get every feather that's plucked when he does the counting. He won't let any eggs get cooked in hatchin', neither. You can trust Joseph--if you watch him a mite."

A laugh at honest Joe's expense, in which he heartily joined, followed this and Lady Jess stepped down among her friends, holding out her hands to first one, then another. Her blue eyes were filled with happy moisture, for she was not too young to feel their devotion to be as unselfish as it was sincere, and her smile was full of confidence in them and in herself.

"Eleven years old is pretty early to be a captain, I guess, but I'll be a good one--just as good and true as you are! What I don't know you'll teach me, and if I make mistakes you'll be patient, I know.

One thing I can do, I can copy bills and papers. I can put down figures and add them up. It was good practice for me, my father said. So I'll put down your names and all your business in these new books he bought and was going to use in his co--co-operation--is that right, John?"

"Right as a trivet."

"And our admiral, that's the dear mother, will not have to fret so any longer. Between us we'll make Sobrante all my father meant it should be and--as soon as I have my breakfast--I will find that t.i.tle. I must find it. I will. Sobrante is yours and ours forever. Oh, boys, I love you! I'm all choked up--I love you so and I feel like that my father used to read in d.i.c.kens: 'G.o.d bless you every one!'"

With her hands clasped close against her breast, and her beloved face luminous with her deep affection, their little maid stood before her hardy henchmen, a symbol to them of all that was best and purest in life. Their own eyes were moist, and even Mr. Hale had to take off his gla.s.ses and wipe them as, looking around upon his comrades, great Samson swung his hat and cried:

"And may G.o.d bless Our Lady Jess! And may every man who seeks to injure her be--stricken with numb palsy! And may every crop be doubled, prices likewise! Peace, prosperity and happiness to Sobrante--destruction to her enemies!"

"Forgiveness for her enemies, Samson, dear, if there really are. That will be n.o.bler, more like father's rule. Make it peace, prosperity and happiness to all the world! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

Mr. Hale clapped his hands to his ears, then hastily moved forward and joined in the cheer, that was deafening enough to have come from many more throats than uttered it. Yet he had an uncomfortable feeling that he might be cla.s.sed among those "enemies" whom Samson wished afflicted with numb palsy and that, at that moment, he was, by no fault of his own, playing a double part.

But he gave himself the benefit of the doubt until he should learn, as he meant to do at once, the whole history of Sobrante with its strange hodge-podge of industries, its veteran employees, and its childish "captain." So, while the ranchmen dispersed to their business and Jessica sought her long-delayed breakfast, he turned towards the kitchen where he hoped to find the mistress of the ranch.

But he was disappointed. There was visible only the broad, purple-covered back and black pig-tail of a Chinaman, pounding away at the snowy loaves of his kneading-board, as if they were "enemies"

of his own and deserving something much worse than "numb palsy."

"Wun Lung!"

No answer, save the whack, whack, whack of the tormented dough.

"Ahem. I say, John!"

Whack, whack.

"Wun Lung, where's your mistress?"

"Dlaily."

"Indeed? I fancy your hand is better. I'm glad of it. That bread ought to be fine. At your leisure, kindly point the direction of the 'dlaily,' will you?"

One yellow, floury hand was lifted and extended eastward, but as this signified nothing definite to the stranger he continued his inquiries.

"Where's Pasqual?"

"Sclub."

"And the little boys?"

"Alle glone."

"I congratulate you on your English, though I'm uncertainly whether you mean me to 'go on' or a.s.sert that somebody else has gone on. I don't like to disturb Miss Jessica at breakfast, but----"

"Back polchee," suggested Wun Lung, anxious to be rid of the intruder, whose irony he suspected if he did not understand.

Mr. Hale betook himself around the house, and, fortunately, in the right direction; for just issuing from her dairy, which was in a cellar under the cottage, was Mrs. Trent, bearing a wooden bowl of freshly made b.u.t.ter.

The guest's heart smote him as he saw her sad face brighten at meeting him, for he knew she trusted him for help he was in duty bound to give elsewhere. But it was not a lawyer's habit to antic.i.p.ate evil, and he was thankful for her suggestion.

"You should have a ride this fine morning, Mr. Hale, before the sun is too high. I've ordered a horse brought round for you at nine o'clock, and Jessica shall act your guide, on Scruff. That is--if the laddies haven't already disappeared with him. Ah! here comes my girl, herself.

You are to show our friend as much of Sobrante as he cares to see, in one morning, daughter. If the children have ridden the burro off you may have Buster saddled."

"Shan't you need me, mother? One of the men----"

"No, dear. Wun Lung is at his post again and Pasqual will do the milk and things. But as you go, I'd like you to take this b.u.t.ter to John's.

It's the weekly portion for the men, who mess for themselves," she explained to the stranger.

"Lucky men to fare on such golden b.a.l.l.s as those!"

"Come and see my dairy. I'm very proud of it. You know, I suppose, that cellars are rarities in California. Everything is built above ground, in ordinary homes; but I needed a cooler place for the milk, and my husband had this planned for me. See the water, our greatest luxury; piped from an artesian well to the tank above, and then down through these cooling pipes around the shelves. After such use supplying the garden, for whatever else may be wasted here it is never a drop of water. Will you taste the b.u.t.termilk? I can't give you ice, but we cool it in earthen crocks sunk in the floor."

More and more did the lawyer's admiration for his hostess increase.

She displayed the prosaic details of her dairy with the same ease and pride with which she would have exhibited the choicest bric-a-brac of a sumptuous drawing-room, and her manner impelled him to an interest in the place which he would have found impossible under other circ.u.mstances.

But above all he wondered at the unselfishness with which she set aside her own anxieties and gave herself wholly to the entertainment of her guest.

"The loss of that t.i.tle deed means ruin for her and her family--even if I were not also compelled to bring distress upon her. But she does not whine nor complain, and that's going to make my task all the harder.

Well, first to see this ranch, and then--I wish I'd never come upon this business! Better suffer nervous dyspepsia all the rest of my life than break such a woman's heart. Her husband may have been a scamp of the first water, but she's a lady and a Christian. So is that beautiful little girl, and it's from her I mean to get all my needed information."

Absorbed in thoughts that were far from pleasant, the gentleman walked beside Mrs. Trent to the horseblock, and mounted the horse which a gray-haired stable "boy" was holding for him, all without rousing from the preoccupation that held him. It was not till he heard Jessica's excited call coming over the s.p.a.ce between the cottage and the "quarters" that he realized where he was and looked up, expectant.

The little girl who had left them for a few moments, was galloping toward them on the back of a rough-coated broncho, waving a paper in her hand and with distressed indignation, crying out as she came:

"'Forty-niner' has gone. Dear old 'Forty-niner!' I found this letter in his room and it's forever--forever! Oh, mother! And he says _you_ discharged him--or it means that--without show of chance! Mother, mother, how could you? That dear old man that everybody loved!"