Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 19

A little laughter answered her, but this sound died speedily, and awkward glances shifted among the faces of the men. They were sorry to have offended the "Little One," and to have her indignant with them was a new and unpleasant situation, but they were not in the least degree sorry that they had administered some punishment to the maligner of their master. Most of them would have wished this punishment more severe, but the promise Jessica had exacted from them before this interview had prevented.

One by one, as they had first come upon the scene they retreated from it, though Joe Dean lingered a moment to ask:

"Won't you come share our breakfast, captain, and so bury the hatchet?"

She sadly shook her head. All her anger left her as suddenly as it had arisen, and there remained in her mind but one thought--there were people in the world who believed her father had been a thief. That was the hard and bitter fact which nothing could soften. The former trouble about the lost t.i.tle deed, and the probable loss of her home seemed as nothing to this new distress. How was she to face it? How disprove it? How save her beloved mother from ever hearing it?

There came a step beside her and a strong arm about her shoulders. It was Ephraim Marsh; erect, resolute, protecting.

"Take it easy, daughter. It's you and me together'll nail this lie on the door of the man who started it. There's a blue sky up yonder and a solid earth down here. I'm good to trust the one and tread the other for forty miles a day yet, spite of my white head. If I have to travel this old State over its hundred and fifty-six thousand square miles, before I clinch that falsehood, I'll clinch it, if I live. If I don't--laws, dearie, I'm in the same poor box myself. There's them that believe me a--you know the word. Even your mother----"

"No, Ephraim! She never believed you anything but the splendid man you are."

"Last night, no shooting, and----"

"It was nothing. She was tired. Aunt Sally always tires her, at first, good as she is and much as we love her. Mother is so quiet and gentle herself----"

"I understand, darlin'."

"Ephraim, she must never know that dreadful thing the stranger said."

"Captain, she'll have to know."

"She must not, I tell you! What am I for but to take care of and love her? Ned--but Ned's only a little boy----"

"And you, my Jessie, are but a few years older than he."

"I'm older than you, I believe! Is it only two days since I met that man in the canyon and things began to happen? It seems forever. As if I'd only lived these forty-eight hours, and all that went before was a dream."

Ephraim stepped aside and regarded her shrewdly.

"Old words to come from so young a mouth, Lady Captain. Have you had any breakfast?"

"No. I don't want any. Have you?"

"No. But I'm going to have. As a rule, breakfasts are wholesome.

Keeping your stomach quiet keeps your head clear. Things'll look more natural after we've eat. Share mine?"

"No, I mustn't. Mother would miss me and wonder."

"You often do."

"It's better you share mine to-day. Then we must plan. I heard you say that about you and me together. Will you help me? Shall we prove it wasn't true--to the rest of the world, I mean--as we know it? Shall we?"

"That's the rest of my life-job, darlin'. We'll begin it right away by getting a taste of Aunt Sally's good victuals. I hate her picra doses, but her cooking beats the Dutch."

"Afterward?"

"Afterward isn't touched yet."

Whether real or affected there had come a cheerfulness into the old man's tone which it had lacked a few moments earlier. After all he was not useless. Who knew his California as he did? If it were true that money had been sent to Mr. Trent's hands and was missing, then somewhere was a man who had appropriated it. Whoever and wherever he was, he should be found, and Ephraim Marsh was self-appointed so to find.

Jessica's hand slipped under his arm, and her own face grew somewhat lighter as she walked beside him toward her own home, where Aunt Sally was keeping an anxious lookout and a most tempting breakfast.

"Bless you, Jessie! I'm glad you've come. Step right in, Ephy. Them m.u.f.fins are so light they've nigh flown off the porch. Made with the eggs my hen-chicken laid, comin' along from Boston. Smartest fowl in the country, and only one I ever owned would brood and lay at the same time. I wouldn't take a fortune for that bird."

Aunt Sally's own cheerfulness was fully restored. With her to be busy helping somebody was, after all, her happiness. And she saw that she had never come to Sobrante more opportunely.

"Your mother isn't up yet, dearie. And I've had the tackers out and washed 'em good. Then I filled them with hot milk, and some of my salt-risin' bread I fetched along in my box, and put 'em to bed. I promised if they'd go to sleep again I'd make 'em each a saucer-pie, and they went."

In spite of her heavy heart, Jessica laughed.

"Aunt Sally, I don't believe there's another person could make them go to sleep at this time of day; not even my mother."

"Pooh! Her! Why, that little Edward knows he can twist her round his thumb easy as scat. He's too much the look of his father for Gabriella ever to be sot with him. You, now, you favor her folks."

Here, foreseeing that the talkative woman was off on a long track, Ephraim mildly inquired:

"Aunt Sally, did you bring that rheumatism-oil you had last time you were here?"

She put on her spectacles and looked at him over them, as was her habit.

Never, by any chance, had she been known to look through them, and her explanation of wearing them at all was simply: "It's proper for a woman of my age."

"Ephy, you feel real bright, don't you? You and rheumatism! Why, man, you'll be getting married before you get rheumatic."

"Then I'll never need the oil."

She was not to be so easily worsted. If Ephraim was minded to be facetious, she'd match him at the business. Whereupon, instead of rehearsing the history of Gabriella's "folks" she veered round upon disease and gave them details of all the dreadful things she had ever heard till "Forty-niner" cried, "Quits! I'll not tackle you again."

Mrs. Benton's eyes twinkled over her cup, for she had joined them at table. She knew, as he did, that this was but foolish sport, yet that it had served their mutual purpose; which was to divert Jessica's thoughts from trouble and her lips from asking why her mother did not appear.

But the meal over, the question came, and the answer was ready:

"Why, I just coaxed her to lie and rest a spell. She knew that I'd look after things all right, and can make b.u.t.ter next grade to hers, if I can't equal. Anybody that's been worrying with a Chinaman as long as she has needs a vacation, I 'low. So she's taking a mite of one."

"Then I'll gather a bunch of roses and take to her. I'm glad to have her rest, and I hope--Aunt Sally, do you suppose she heard any of that dreadful man's talk? Did you tell her?"

"No; I didn't tell her. I'd sooner never say another word as long as I live than do such a thing. You needn't be afraid to trust your old auntie, child. There, run along and make her a posy."

But no sooner had Jessica gone into the garden than Aunt Sally's lips were close to Ephraim's ear, and she was whispering:

"She heard it, every word. She didn't say so, and I didn't ask. But the look of it in her eyes. Ephraim Marsh, I've got a heartbroken woman on my hands, and don't you dare to tell me a word 'at I haven't."

"Oh, that tongue of yours! Last night when you were yelling at him why didn't you think about other folks' hearts and be still? You've a voice like a fog horn when you're mad--or pleased, either!" cried this honest, ungallant frontiersman.

"I know it, Ephy. It's the truth. I realize it as well as you do. And I was mad. Since she heard, anyway, I wish now 'at I'd up and thrashed him good. I had laid out to put a little bitter dose in his coffee this morning, but he went away without taking any," she ended, grimly.

"Sally Benton, you're quite contriving. What's to be done?"