Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 20

Before she could reply Jessica came back, her arms full of great rose-branches and her face bright with confidence.

"Ephraim, Aunt Sally, I've thought of something. It came to me out there among the roses, like a voice speaking; my mother must not and need not be told what Mr. Hale said. It isn't wicked to deceive her in this, for her own good. Often you've asked her to let you take me horseback trip to Los Angeles, stopping nights at houses on the way, with people who knew my father; and she's promised I should 'some time.' I think the 'some time' has come. She will be glad to have us go, for one thing, to find out about the feather markets and others that Antonio used to take care of, but has left. Aunt Sally does two things at once; why not we? We'll hunt that man who took the money; and if I can't find the deed first--though, of course, I shall--we'll straighten that out, too. Isn't that good sense?"

"It's more; it's inspiration," responded "Forty-niner,"

enthusiastically. He had already decided to make this journey alone, for Jessica's sake; but with her as companion he felt that it would be as sure of success as full of pleasure. A little child working to clear her father's name of dishonor, and to save her mother's home--what evil could prevail against this n.o.ble effort?

It was like his simplicity and hers that neither thought of providing for difficulties by the way, or for any delay in finding the men and proofs they sought, when once they reached the distant city.

Aunt Sally was not so sanguine; yet it was not her part to discourage any attempt to set wrong matters right, and she merely nodded her head and remarked:

"It'll bear thinking on. Now, run along and see your mother."

"Has she had her breakfast? Can't I carry it to her?"

"S'pose I'd let that poor lamb go without her dawn-meal late as this?

I heard her stirring the minute I got back into the house, so I fixed her some broma and poached her an egg, and made her go lie down again.

You'll not find her hungry, child, 'less for a sight of you."

Jessica ran to her mother's room, exclaiming:

"I'm so glad you're resting, dear. Were ever more perfect roses? And isn't it delightful that Aunt Sally should be here just now to look after things. Because----"

"Well, my darling? Why do you hesitate?"

"Mother, may Ephraim and I go on that trip to Los Angeles?"

Lady Jess had intended to be very careful and cautious, for once, and to test her mother's feelings on the subject she made her request. But frankness was her habit, and the question was out of itself, it seemed, and she waiting the answer with a beating heart.

"Why just now, daughter? And--has Mr. Hale gone?" she asked, in a peculiar tone.

"Yes. He has gone. He left rather--rather suddenly, but he sent his regards to you and his thanks. He said he might come back some time, but--I don't think he will. He said something to offend the 'boys,'

and they let him take old Dandy. Samson went with him to show him the way."

Poor little captain, who had never in her short life had one secret thought from her idolized mother. This first experience did not come easy to her, and after one glance into the sad, yet amused, eyes watching her, she tossed secrecy aside and buried her face on her mother's pillow.

"Mother, mother! I am so unhappy. I'm keeping something back from you that I cannot tell you; that I cannot have you know, and I don't like it. But--it's right, it's best. So don't ask me, and, oh, mother--"

"I've no need to ask you, sweetheart. I know, already."

"Know--what?" cried Jessica alarmed, and sitting straight again.

"All that is in your brave heart. All that Mr. Hale had heard against your father. All that you and Ephraim hope from this suddenly decided journey to a distant city."

"Why--how? And I'd only just thought it out, yonder in the garden!"

"I had begun to suspect, I hardly know why, that our late guest had come here as our enemy, or, rather, as an agent against us. Something held me back from confiding in him, as I at first wished to do. He is a gentleman, and doubtless honest, but he is not on our side. Besides, how and why he went away just as he did is plain enough. I have ears and I have eyes, and I heard all Aunt Sally's tirade last night, so could easily guess at his own part in the talk. Also--I saw him ride out of the courtyard. My little girl, for the first time in my life I blushed for Sobrante. Even if he had been a wicked man, which he was not, that was a dastardly insult. I am ashamed of your 'boys,' captain."

"And so am I. And I told them so, quick enough. Oh! they pretended not to mind my anger, but they were ashamed--inside themselves, I know.

Now, for ever so long, they'll be so good 'b.u.t.ter would melt in their mouths.' You see."

"Apt pupil of Aunt Sally."

"Why, mother! How can you smile and take it so quiet? This awful--awful thing he said?"

"To say a thing is not to prove it. The charge is so monstrous that it becomes absurd. Nothing hurts us but what we do, and your father never did a dishonorable deed, from the hour of his birth till his death. I am sorry for those mistaken people who think that he did, and I am thankful that he left a brave little daughter to set them right."

Jessica stared. For a long time past she had seen her mother anxious and troubled over matters which now seemed trivial in the extreme; yet this blow which had almost crushed her own courage but restored Mrs. Trent's.

"Then do you mean that we may go?"

"Yes."

"Oh, mother! Thank you."

"But you will go armed with the fullest information we can gain. We will examine all the papers Antonio left--if he left any. We will make a thorough search everywhere for that t.i.tle deed. We shall probably find letters from this New York company to your father, and these will have the name, or names, of those with whom he did business at Los Angeles.

I wish now that Senor Bernal were here. His knowledge would be worth everything in this emergency, if--he would give it. Well, he is not here, and we must do the best we can without him. I'm going to get up now and begin to look."

"Aunt Sally thought you ought to rest."

"This talk will rest me most of all."

The mother was now as eager as the child, and together they were soon engaged in opening Mr. Trent's desk and secretary, which his wife had not before touched since he himself closed them.

Alas! the search was an easy matter, and came swiftly to an end. Beyond a few personal letters from relatives and friends, there was not a sc.r.a.p of writing anywhere. Even the ledgers and account books had been removed, and at this discovery the same thought came to both:

"Antonio."

"Yet, why? and so secretly. He was really the master here, and if, as he now claims, Sobrante is his, he has but to prove it, and we will go away," said the widow, trembling for the first time.

"Let us try the safe. That night before he went off in such grief, Ephraim gave me the key. He thought he was going forever, and I was to look in it some time--when I needed. We'll look now."

Mrs. Trent herself unlocked the clumsy iron box and found it empty, save for one small parcel. This, wrapped in a bit of canvas, was securely tied and addressed to "Jessica Trent."

The mother pa.s.sed it to her.

"You open it, please, mother. It may be--it must be--that deed and maybe some other things--I couldn't wait to pick the knots, and I've no knife."

CHAPTER XIII

THE START

Nothing resembling a legal doc.u.ment was found inside the package; but, instead, were several neatly-arranged rolls of gold and silver money, with the denomination of each roll carefully marked outside; dollars, eagles, double eagles. With these was a sc.r.a.p of paper, saying:

"All my savings for my captain. G.o.d bless them to her. E. M."