Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 25

"Very few little girls of your age ever have so much money as that about them. None ever should have. It's too great a temptation to evil-minded persons, and a good many of that sort come here. Ah! the matron! I'll ask her to show us into some less public place and I'll order a dinner from that restaurant nearby."

In response to his request the motherly woman in charge of the women's quarters offered him her own little sitting-room; "if they'll say yes to it in the office," she added, as a condition.

This was soon arranged, the dinner followed and a very hungry Jessica sat down to enjoy it. Her companion also pretended to eat, but encouraged her to talk and found himself interested in her every moment. He, also, promptly told her who he was; a reporter and occasional artist, on one of the leading daily papers. A man always on the lookout for "material," and as such he meant to use the sketch, he had made. He showed her the sketch, and explained that he would put an item in the next issue of his paper which might meet the eye of the missing sharpshooter and notify that person where to find her, if he had not done so before.

Jessica did not know that it was an unwise thing to make a confidant of a stranger, but in this instance she was safe enough; and it pleased her to tell, as him to listen to, the whole history of Sobrante; its fortunes and misfortunes, and the object of her present visit to this far-off town.

His business instinct was aroused. He realized that here might be "material," indeed. He was young and sincere enough to be enthusiastic.

Times were a little dull. There was quite a lull in murders and robberies; this story suggested either a robbery or swindle of some sort, and on a big scale. His paper would appreciate his getting a "scoop" on its contemporaries, and, in a word, he resolved to make Jessica Trent's cause his own, for the time being.

"Look here, child, don't you worry. You stay right quiet in this place with Matron Wood. I'll get out and hustle. Here's my card, Ninian Sharp, of _The Lancet_. That's a paper has cut a good many knots and shall cut yours. I've heard of Ca.s.sius Trent. Everybody has, in California. I'll find that Lawyer Hale. I'll find old 'Forty-niner'

and I'll be back in this room before bedtime. Now, go play with the rest of the lost children--you're by no means the only one in Los Angeles to-day. Or take a nap would be wiser. Look out for her, Matron Wood. Any good turn done this little maid is done _The Lancet_. Good-by, for a time."

Smiling, alert, he departed and Jessica felt as if he had taken all her anxieties with him. She followed the matron into the big room where the other estrays, whom Mr. Sharp had told her she would find, waiting to be claimed by their friends, but none was as large as she. Some were so little she wondered how they ever could have wandered anywhere away from home; but she loved all children and these reminded her of Ned and Luis.

Promptly she had them all about her, and for the rest of that day, at least, Matron Wood's cares were lightened. Yet one after another, some person called to claim this or that wanderer, with cries of rapture or harsh words of reproof, as the case might be. Jessica kissed each little one good-by, but with each departure felt herself growing more homesick and depressed. By sunset she was the only child left in the matron's care, and her loneliness so overcame her that she had trouble to keep back her tears.

"But I'll not cry. I will not be so babyish. Besides crying wouldn't help bad matters and I've come away from Sobrante on a big mission.

Even that jolly Mr. Sharp said, 'That's a considerable of a job,' when I told him. He was funny. Always laughing and so quick, I wish he'd come soon. It seems to take as long for him to find Ephraim as it would me. I should think anybody could have walked the whole city over by this time," she thought, in her ignorance of distances. Then she asked:

"When do you think they'll come, Matron Wood?"

The good woman waked from a "cat-nap" and was tired enough to be impatient.

"Oh! don't bother. If they're not here by nine o'clock you'll have to go to bed. You should be thankful that there is such a place as this for just such folks as you. Like as not he'll never come. You can't tell anything about them newspaper men. But you listen to that bell, will you? I don't see what makes me so sleepy. If it rings, wake me up."

The minutes sped on. In the now silent room the portly matron slumbered peacefully and Jessica tried, though vainly, to keep a faithful watch.

She did not know that her weary companion was breaking rules and laying herself open to disgrace; but she was herself very tired, so, presently, her head dropped on the table and she was also asleep.

Ninian Sharp found the pair thus, and jested with the matron when he waked her in a way that sounded very much like earnest. "He would have her removed," and so on; thereby frightening Jessica, who had been roused by their voices, and looked from one to the other in keen distress.

"I did--I did try to listen for the bell, but it was so still and I couldn't help it. I'm sorry----"

"Pooh! child. No more could I. It'll be all right if this gentleman knows enough to hold his tongue," said the woman, anxiously.

"I shouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't--where a lady is concerned.

And I judge from appearances it's about time Miss Jessica went to bed."

The girl's heart sank. This meant disappointment. She understood that without further words, and turned away her face to hide the tears which would come now, in spite of all her will.

Then the reporter's hand was on her curls.

"Keep up your courage, child. I've been hustling, as I said I would.

I've found out a lot. I've had boys searching the hotel records all over town and I know in which one your Mr. Hale is staying. He'll keep--till we need him."

"But Ephraim? Have you heard nothing of him?"

"I heard a funny yarn about a horse with a stiff leg; that the moment the sound of a drum was in his ears cooly tossed his aged rider into the gutter and marched off with the bra.s.s band, head up, eyes flashing, tail switching, a soldier with the best of them. See--it's here in this evening's _Gossip._"

He held the sheet toward her and Jessica read the humorous account of Stiffleg's desertion. But there was no account of what had further befallen Ephraim, and it seemed but a poor excuse for his non-appearance.

She tossed the paper aside, impatiently:

"But he had his own two good feet left. He could have followed me on them? I--I--he was always so faithful before."

Mr. Sharp's face sobered.

"He is faithful still, but his feet will serve him poorly for the next few weeks. Maybe months. Old bones are slow to heal, and the surgeon says it is a compound fracture. When he fell into the gutter, as my co-laborer so gayly puts it, he 'broke himself all to smash.' He's in hospital. As a great favor from the authorities in charge I've seen him.

I've told him about you. I've promised to befriend you and I'll take you to see him in the morning. I'm sorry that your first night in our angelic city must be pa.s.sed in a station-house, but I reckon it's the safest till I can think of some fitter shelter. Good-night.

My mother used to say that the Lord never shut one door but He opened another. Ephraim laid up--here am I. Count on me. Good-night."

CHAPTER XVI

A HOSPITAL REUNION

When Ninian Sharp sat down to smoke a cigar at the window of his club it was with no idea that he was then and there to begin a bit of detective work which should make him famous. For, though this is antic.i.p.ating, that was the reward which the future held for him because of his yielding to a kindly impulse.

Through him, the helplessness of a little girl won for an almost hopeless cause the aid of a great newspaper, than which there is no influence more potent. It took but one hearing of Jessica's story to rouse his interest and to convince him that here was a "good thing if it could be well worked up." It promised a "sensation" that would result in benefit to his paper, to himself, and--for his credit be it said--to the family of the dead philanthropist.

After he had bidden Lady Jess good-night, the reporter called at the hotel where Morris Hale was registered and held an interview with that gentleman. The result of this was pleasing to both men. They had one common object: the recovery of the missing money which had been entrusted to Ca.s.sius Trent. Mr. Hale wished this for the sake of his New York patrons, but now hoped, as did Ninian Sharp, that if it were accomplished it would also clear the memory of Jessica's father from the stain resting upon it. For the present, they decided to join forces, so to speak. By agreement, they went together to the station-house on the following morning, and found Lady Jess looking out of a window with a rather dreary interest in the scene. But she instantly caught sight of them and darted to the doorway to meet them, holding out both hands toward the lawyer and entreating:

"Oh! I beg your pardon for the 'boys'! And for us that we should ever have let it happen to any guest of Sobrante. Can you forgive it?"

The reporter looked curious and Mr. Hale's face flushed at the painful memory her words had revived. But he did not explain and pa.s.sed the matter over, saying:

"Don't mention it, my child. Odd, isn't it? To think you should follow me so quickly all this long way. Well, you deserve success and I'm going to help you to it, if I can. So is this new friend you've made.

Now, are you ready to see poor 'Forty-niner'? If so, get your cap, bid the matron good-by, and we'll be off."

Jessica obeyed, quickly; taking leave of Mrs. Wood with warm expressions of grat.i.tude for her "nice bed and breakfast," a.s.suring that rather skeptical person that these men "were certainly all right, because one of them had been at her own dear home and her mother had recognized him for a gentleman. The other--why, the other wrote for a newspaper. Even drew pictures for it! Think of that!"

"Humph! A man might do worse. But, never mind. This is the place to come to if you get into any more trouble. There's the street and number it is, and here's my name on a piece of paper. Now, it's to be put in the book about your going, who takes you, and where. After that--after that I suppose there's nothing more."

Ninian Sharp watched this little by-play with much interest, and remarked to the lawyer:

"That child has a charm for all she meets. Even this old police matron, whose heart ought to be as tough as shoeleather, looks doleful at parting with her. I think her the most winning little creature I ever met."

"You should see her with her 'boys,' as she calls the workmen at Sobrante. They idolize her and obey her blindly. Sometimes, their devotion going further than obedience," he added, with a return of annoyance in his expression.

As she stepped into the street, Jessica clasped a hand of each, with joyful confidence, and they smiled at one another over her head, leading her to the next corner where they hailed a car and the reporter bade her jump aboard.

"Am I to ride in that? Oh, delightful!"

"Delightful" now seemed everything about her. Friends were close at hand and a few minutes would bring her to Ephraim. That he was injured and helpless she knew, yet could not realize; while she could and did realize to the full all the novelty about her. The swift motion of the electric car, the gay and busy streets, the palm-bordered avenues they crossed, the ever-changing scenes of the city, each richer and more wonderful than the other, in her inexperienced eyes. She would have liked to ask many questions, but her companions were now conversing in low tones and she would not interrupt. Soon, however, she saw Mr. Sharp make a slight gesture with his hand and the car stopped. "Our street," he said, rising.

A brief walk afterward brought them to a big building, standing somewhat back from the avenue, with a green lawn and many trees about it.