Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 3

The carpenter laughed. "Might have known she would, and wanted she should, I suppose. Surest-footed little thing in the world. Guess I needn't fret. Though when I think what this old ranch would be without her, I don't feel any great call to send her into danger, myself. My!

she's as nimble as a squirrel! Down to the bottom a'ready. Up this side in a jiffy, and won't her blue eyes snap when she sees this lowdown trick? If I knew whose job it was, well, I'm a peaceable man if I'm let, but there wouldn't be room enough in this here valley for the two of us. And it's all on a piece with the rest. One thing after another.

There's a snake in this wigwam, but which 'tis? H-m-m! Beats me.

Beats me clear to Jericho."

Then he fell to watching the slower, steady ascent of Jessica, who had descended the further side so swiftly, and who had clambered lightly enough over the roughness of the gulch bottom; at times filled with a roaring torrent, but now quite dry after a long, hot summer.

"Well, here I am!"

"And a sorry sight to show you. Look a' that now. Isn't that a regular coyote piece of work?"

Along this face of the canyon descended a line of small wooden troughs, closely joined, and supported upon slender but strong cedar uprights.

This flume connected with the distant reservoir of an irrigating company and had been built by Jessica's dead father at a great and ill-afforded expense. But of all good things there was nothing so precious to the tillers of that thirsty land as water, and the cutting off of this supply meant ruin to Sobrante.

Young as she was, Jessica fully understood this, though she could not understand that any human being should do a deed so dastardly.

"John Benton, you mustn't say that. Some of the cattle have done it. It's an accident. It can be mended. I'm sorry, of course, but so thankful you found it. And I see you've got your tools."

"Oh! I can mend it, all right, but it won't stay mended. You'll see.

'Tisn't the first break I've patched, not by any means."

"Of course it isn't. Only last week in that stampede, when the boys were changing pasture, the creatures ran against it and you fixed it, good as new. There isn't anything you can't do with an ax and a few nails."

John pa.s.sed the compliment by unheeding.

"There's breaks and there's cuts. Reckon I can tell the difference quick enough. This is a cut and isn't the first one I've found, I say.

'Twas a fresh-ground blade did this piece of deviltry, or I'm no judge of edges. Now, who did it? Why? And how's old Pedro?"

Despite her faith in her friends, the small ranchwoman's heart sank.

"He--he--why, he isn't sick at all! I was sent up there on a fool's errand, and just on plucking-day, when I was so needed at home. With Wun Lung hurt and mother so busy, I ought to have a dozen pairs of hands.

Of course, I'm glad he's well, dear old fellow, but I shouldn't have gone this morning if somebody hadn't told Antonio wrong. I met a stranger on the trail, too, and Zulu scared his horse, and it stumbled in a gopher hole or something and is lamed for ever so long. He'll likely come to Sobrante, if he can get there, but he looked ill if Pedro didn't, and the sun nearly overcame him. Can't I help you hold that board?"

John accepted her offer of help less because he needed it than because he always liked to have her near him.

"So 'twas Antonio sent you, eh? H-m-m!"

"He didn't send me. Course not. He just said somebody said Pedro was dying."

The carpenter laughed, but his mirth was not pleasant.

"Queer how stories get mixed, even in this lonesome place. There; you needn't hold that. Your little hands aren't so very strong, helpful as they may be. This isn't any great of a job; it 'twould only stay, once 'twas finished!"

"Then I'll go. Maybe I'd better send up one of the boys to help you.

Shall I? Who do you want?"

Upon the point of declining, the carpenter changed his mind.

"Yes, you may. I wish you would. Send Antonio."

"Send--Antonio! Why, I should as soon think of 'sending' that stranger I told you about. You're teasing me, for you know well that Antonio is the only one who ever 'sends' Antonio. Even my mother, who has a right to 'send' everybody on the ranch whither she will, never orders the manager. Well, good-by. You shall have a nice dinner out of the house-kitchen to pay for your hard climb."

"Take care where you step in your hurry, and just try that word on the 'senor.' Tell him there's a bit of a break in the flume I'd like his advice about."

The workman's laugh followed the girl down the rough and perilous way, and just as she pa.s.sed out of hearing came the parting shot:

"Send Antonio."

"H-m-m! I don't see what it all means. First is old Pedro, with his grim ''Ware Antonio!' And now John Benton speaks in that queer way, as if there were two meanings to his words. Heigho! I hear somebody coming up. I wonder who!"

Hurrying downward as fast as the uneven path allowed, her own softly-shod feet making no noise, she reached a turn of the road and suddenly slackened her pace. The man approaching was one of the few whom she feared and disliked.

"Ferd, the dwarf!"

Instinctively, she hid behind a clump of shrubbery and waited for him to pa.s.s, hoping he would not see her. He did not. He was too engrossed in handling, apparently counting, something within a deep basket that hung on his arm, and his bare feet loped around over the rocks as easily as they would have carried him across the level mesa.

As soon as he had gone by Lady Jess started onward, but she had grown even more thoughtful.

"That's queer. Antonio must need Ferd to-day if ever he does. Indeed, n.o.body seems able to serve him as well as that poor half-wit. What could he have had in his basket? And--ha! how came _this_ here?"

With a cry of surprise she lifted a small, soft object from the ground before her and regarded it in gathering dismay.

CHAPTER III

SENOR TOP-LOFTY

Ever since Jessica could remember, Antonio Bernal had been manager of the Sobrante ranch, and after the death of her father, a few months before, he became practically its master. Even Mrs. Trent deferred to his opinions more and more, and seemed to stand in awe of him, as did most others on the great estate. He was the only person there, save his own servant, Ferd, who did not treat the little girl with that adoring sort of reverence which had given her the love-name of "our Lady Jess."

For some reason unknown to her he disliked her and showed this, so that she shrank from and feared him in return.

As she emerged from the canyon upon the broad, sandy road which crossed the valley, she saw him loping toward her on the powerful black horse with which he made his daily rounds to inspect the many industries that Mr. Trent had established. Jessica could always tell by the way he rode what Antonio's mood might be, and it did not lessen her dread to see that his sombrero was well over his eyes and his shoulders hunched forward.

"Something's put him out, but I can't help that. I must stop him and speak to him."

So she placed herself in the middle of the road and shouted her familiar:

"_Hola!_ Coo-ee! Coo-ee!"

Any other ranchman would have paused and saluted his "lady," but the "senor" made as if he would ride her down, unseeing.

Jessica did not flinch. That ready temper which she was always lamenting flamed at the insult, and she would not move a hair's breadth from his path.

"Hola! Antonio Bernal! I must speak to you, and--see that?"

Suddenly bending forward she waved something long and black under Nero's nose, who reared and settled on his haunches in a way to test a less experienced rider.

"What do you mean, child----" began that irate gentleman, but pausing at sight of the object she held.