Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 21

"Oh, mother! That big-hearted Ephraim! Was anybody ever so unselfish as he?"

"Or as unjust as I have been."

"How? What can you mean?"

Mrs. Trent did not answer, save by the tears in her eyes, though she was tempted to show her child all the base suspicion that had, for a brief s.p.a.ce, dwelt in her own mind concerning "Forty-niner." A suspicion which Antonio had suggested, and her trouble made her too ready to accept. Then she reflected it were wiser not, and rose, placing the precious parcel in Jessica's own hands.

"Let us find that splendid old man at once. We cannot accept his sacrifice, but we must hasten to show him we appreciate it."

Ephraim was polishing his rifle in his own room when they came to him, and rose to welcome the unusual visit of the lady with more awkwardness than he commonly displayed. It was an honor she was doing him, yet he had far rather she had not come.

But he was forced back into his chair by Jessica's a.s.sault of clinging arms and raining kisses, and, catching sight of the parcel in her hand, began to understand.

"Oh, you splendid, darling, generous Ephraim! I can never, never thank you enough for doing this for me, but I could not ever possibly take it.

Why, there must be hundreds of dollars there, my mother says, and that would mean almost all the years you've ever lived at Sobrante. I never knew anybody with such a heart as you, dear Ephraim."

The poor old fellow was far more distressed by her rejection of his gift than she could guess. His face drooped, he worked his hands and feet uneasily, he shifted his seat, and behaved in altogether a new fashion for the man who had hitherto borne himself so simply and naturally. Then the old suspicion returned to sting his loving heart, and he glanced up to study his mistress' face. To his surprise he saw it wet with tears, and that she was holding out her thin, labor-hardened hands to clasp his own.

"Ephraim Marsh, you have done me more good than money could bring. You have renewed my faith in mankind. In a world where live such men as you justice will be done the memory of my dead husband. I thank you."

"Don't--don't mention it, Mrs. Trent. I wish it had been double, as it ought, only----"

"Ephraim, mother says we may go. You and I, as you said, 'together,'

to make everything straight."

"What? You've told her then, Lady Jess."

"Of course. Or she guessed. How could I keep anything from my mother?

And she's quite willing."

"I'm more than willing, Ephraim. I _want_ you to go. I believe that good will come of the journey, though I am terribly disappointed by not finding any papers or letters to help you in the search for the men with whom Mr. Trent transacted his business. Antonio must have taken away all the records or put them in some place I cannot guess."

"Then we'll find Antonio first."

"Of course. How simple of me not to think of that. Do you happen to know where he went?"

"No, ma'am, I don't. But you can always track a--well some critters by their scent. Wherever that scoundrel goes he'll leave a trail. I've a keen nose for the hunt."

"Don't judge him too harshly, Ephraim. Perhaps he considered that he was doing all for the best; and if Sobrante is his, he's welcome to it."

"Whew!" was the ranchman's astonished comment.

"Don't you understand, dear Ephraim? Losing a home is nothing to losing honor," said Jessica, earnestly. "We don't care half so much about Sobrante as that other thing."

"You shall keep both. Your home and our master's honor," cried the old man, fiercely.

"Yes, that we will!" echoed Jessica, clasping his hand again.

So doing she dropped the canvas bag on the floor, and, picking it up, Mrs. Trent would have restored it to its owner, as she so considered the sharpshooter. But he would have none of it.

"I've heard the little tackers call one another 'Indian giver.' I couldn't, ma'am, you know. It's Jessie's, now."

The mistress' face grew serious. She had not expected to find the man so obstinate. But she hated to wound him and turned the matter aside with the remark:

"Let it rest so, then, for the present. I will keep it in the safe till you come back--if I can. Though I begin to feel as if nothing were secure at Sobrante, nowadays."

Ephraim pondered for a moment, then looked up with a relieved expression.

"Asking pardon, ma'am, I'm sure; have you got any--I mean much money handy by you?"

"No. I have not. Fortunately, beyond the wages of the men, not much ready cash is needed at Sobrante, where we produce so much."

"Yes'm. Yet I wouldn't like to set out on a journey that might be long, or even delayed for a spell, without considerable loose change.

Better let the captain pay all expenses of the trip out of that little handful, and call it square."

"Square! That is even greater generosity than the first. Lying in the safe you might have found it again; but spent--Ephraim, I fear I'll never be able to repay such an amount. I must think out some other way."

"Don't you trust me, Mrs. Trent?"

"Am I not trusting you with the most precious thing in life--my daughter?"

"Then, mother, trust him about the money. It's good sense. We haven't any and we need it. Besides, it hurts him to refuse. Yes, we'll use it, Ephraim dear."

So it was settled; but it was not in Jessica's nature to keep the story from the rest of her "boys." Forgetting her angry feelings of the morning she called a meeting and spread the news among them. Much as she loved them, until the time of her recent appointment as "captain,"

she had tried to give them their t.i.tles of "Mr.," though not always remembering. Now she no longer tried. They were just her comrades, and when she stood upon the horseblock to address them it was with the joyful announcement:

"John! George! Joe! Everybody! Ephraim and I are going away!"

She paused and looked around, but instead of the sympathetic pleasure she expected there were darkening looks and evident disappointment.

"Oh! but we are coming back again. Hark, what he did!"

Ephraim was away putting his few traps together against the morning's start, since, if they were to go at all, why delay? Else he might have silenced her then and there. But out it came, and be sure the sharpshooter's generosity lost not one bit in her telling.

"With this money we're going to hire lawyers and pay our lodging where we have to, and hunt up the men that know about business. Finally, to find the money--that other lot of it--that Mr. Hale said had been sent to my father by those New York folks. If they did send it they shall have it back--if we can find it. If they didn't--they shall tell all the world they accused him wrongfully. We're going to find the man that made that t.i.tle, if we can. We're going to save Sobrante, but we're going to save its honor first!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Glory to the captain!"

"And old 'Forty-niner,'" added honest John Benton.

They cheered him to the skies, and when the uproar had subsided, their small chief said:

"You are all to take the best care of Sobrante, and first--of my mother.

Don't you let her worry, nor let Ned and Luis get hurt. And you must keep Aunt Sally here till I come back."

Somebody groaned.

"Oh! that's not right. I couldn't go if she hadn't come. She'll look after everything----"