Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 17

CHAPTER XI

THE GUEST DEPARTS

"Well, mother! What are you doing, waking me out of my beauty sleep, this way?"

"Don't speak to me, John Benton. This is no time for fooling. Not till I've got my breath, knocked out of me by the plumb wickedness of this world. That I should have lived to hear such things and not died in my tracks!"

Upon leaving Mr. Hale's sickroom, Aunt Sally had traveled as fast as her nimble feet could carry her to her son's quarters, in the old mission, and had burst in upon his slumbers, with a mighty groan.

"What's up?"

"You ought to be, for one thing. There, lie still. I can talk and you can listen--and you'll need support 'fore I'm through. That man! Oh!

that man!"

"Yes'm. Which one?"

"Shut up. You need spankin' as bad as ever you did. But--John, John!

The vilest wretch that ever trod shoe leather! The best, the generousest, the n.o.blest--and not here to say a word for his poor self."

"Mother, your remarks seem a little mixed. If you'll face the other way I'll have on my clothes in a jiffy. Can't 'pear to sense things so well, lying a-bed after daylight."

Mrs. Benton stepped outside the house and paced the beaten path with a tread powerful enough to crush all her enemies, had they been in her way. Swiftly, heavily, back and forth, with clinched hands and grim lips, the woman was rather working her indignation to a higher point than allaying it, and as the carpenter limped from his quarters he saw this, and thought:

"She meant it. No time for fooling when she's stirred up that way. What in the name of reason can ail her?"

After a plunge of his head in the water of the general washing-trough, through which a fresh stream was continually piped, and a drying on the roller towel suspended near it, his wits were clearer. Finishing his toilet by means of his pocket-comb, he considered himself ready for her story and for anything that it might entail.

"Well, mother?"

Aunt Sally paused and glared at him in such a vicious manner that he felt as if he were again that little boy of hers who needed the usual corporal punishment.

"Yes, but mother--what have _I_ done?"

"Done? Nothing! Not a man jack of you! Let that viper warm himself at her very fireside, least to say, south porch, and not show him up for what he was. Land! The men! I never saw one yet was worth shucks, savin' hers and mine. If you was half the fellow your father was, John Benton, or that n.o.ble Ca.s.s'us was--oh! if ever _I_ wanted to be a man in my life I want to be this minute!"

The carpenter darted into his chamber and reappeared with a vial and spoon.

"To please me, mother, 'fore you say any more, just take a spoonful of this dandelion relish. Made it myself, you know, and warrant no alcohol in it!"

The jester was rewarded by a boxed ear, but he had effectually arrested his parent's wandering thoughts, and she burst forth with her news:

"That viper-lawyer-man has come to this Sobrante to accuse Ca.s.s'us Trent of stealing! lyin! cheating! Ca.s.s'us, your best friend and mine.

Says there's a power of money missing, that was all consigned to him, to purchase that Paraiso d'Oro for a community and never reported on!"

"What? W-h-a-t!"

John had laid his hand upon her shoulder like a vise, and she began to whimper.

"Needn't pinch me, child. 'Twasn't I said it. You told me to find out what he wanted here and I have. He pretends he lost his way, got off the road he was showed to take and met Lady Jess in the canyon. Says his own horse is up to Pedro's sheep pasture. Says----"

"_And you let him?_ Had him right there in your power and didn't knock his old teeth down his lying throat?"

As John's wrath increased his mother's ebbed. She had pa.s.sed her indignation on to another, as it were, and felt the relief of this confidence.

"No, I didn't. I left that for you to do. They was false ones any way and wouldn't have hurt none. Hold on! Where you going, son?"

For the carpenter had started forward, as if intent upon instant and terrible vengeance. Neither of them noticed that Jessica had followed Aunt Sally hither till a girl's voice implored:

"Don't! That would let my mother know and it would kill her!"

"Captain! You here? You understand?"

"Yes--yes. They waked me, talking, and I crept to the upper hall to stop them, so they should not disturb my poor, tired dear. Oh! I heard!

I heard--every--single--dreadful word!"

"Well, I'm going to fix him for it."

"John, wait--wait. I must think. My precious mother----"

Jessica rarely wept. Now she flung herself into Aunt Sally's arms and sobbed in a way that set the carpenter raging afresh. One after another the "boys" came out from the closed or open doors along the row. Some because it was their usual hour for rising, others to learn the cause of these early voices. But one glimpse of Lady Jess in trouble grouped every ranchman about her and set each to hurling a torrent of questions upon that good woman, who held her, without pause for any answer.

But John held up his hand and told the story. It belonged to them all, as Jessica did, and the honor of Sobrante.

They heard it with little comment, save groans and occasional mutterings, punctuated by fresh inquiries of Mrs. Benton. Considerable mystery had been thrown about her cross-examination of her temporary patient, and after all it had proved the simplest matter in the world. Concerning his own personal affairs he was provokingly silent, but he was as ready to talk about his business in that region as she was to have him when, after a roundabout preparation, she brought him to it.

"I am in honor pledged to do my best for my employers in the East, and unwilling to remain here under false colors, so to speak, any longer. Who is the most responsible person here, excepting Mrs. Trent?" had been his words.

"I am," promptly replied Aunt Sally.

"Then you shall hear my story," and he told it.

The effect of it was to loose her tongue to its utmost. One may guess the listener heard himself portrayed in colors he failed to recognize and that he realized he had made a mistake in the selection of a _confidante_. However, his purpose had been to do away with all doubt concerning himself, and to do this with as little distress to his hostess as possible. For that reason he had believed a woman would be his best aid, but it proved that almost any ranchman on the place would have been safer than she.

"Well, I ought to have known that a female who talks so much must say something amiss, and I can't blame her for her indignation. In her stead I might have behaved worse; and the thing now is to get over this little weakness and go away about the miserable business, at once,"

he reflected. Then he watched her hurry out of his room and surmised whither she would turn her steps. Therefore, he was not surprised when, somewhat later, he also left the cottage to find himself confronted by great Samson, quietly, but significantly, awaiting the stranger's appearance. For the great fellow had naturally been appointed by his mates to "settle that critter's hash and settle it sudden."

"Good-morning, Samson."

Silence.

"It seems so wonderful to me to wake and find this changeless sunshine, day after day, as if no such things as storms could ever exist," said the lawyer, pleasantly.

Samson's grimness relaxed to a slight degree. "Some kind of storms blow in fair weather. Likely you'll meet up with one sooner'n you expect.

Step this way, will you?"

The sailor's expression was so formidable that, for a moment, all the wild tales the lawyer had ever read of western desperadoes returned to test his already weakened nerves. But he was no coward, and knew that though in a most uncomfortable position, it was by no means a guilty one.