The Ranch Girls and Their Heart's Desire Part 11

Seeing her sister approach, Jack, who had stepped out of doors for a moment for a breath of fresh air, feeling more fatigued than she scarcely ever recalled being at this hour of the morning, gave a quickly suppressed sigh and then held out her arms to Peace.

Thoroughly she and Frieda had gone over this question of her possible nomination when the matter simply had been under discussion. Frieda had then aired her views as fully as it seemed possible that any expression of opinion could be aired. Not for a single instant was Jack even to allow her mind to rest upon the idea. "A woman politician in the family!" Personally Frieda felt and announced that she could not endure the disgrace.

From the first had she not warned her sister that public speech making would lead to something more disastrous?

Now as Jack greeted her sister she was painfully aware that Frieda's face wore the familiar expression it was wont to wear when she had appointed herself both judge and jury in a case and allowed no counsel for the defendant.

Pretending to ignore the expression, nevertheless, Jack felt a little ominous sinking of the heart. She was not prepared to allow Frieda to make this decision for her, and had so informed her, as gently and firmly as possible, in their previous talks together upon the self-same topic.

And Jack did not wish to be drawn into any further argument this morning, and certainly not with her sister. All her life she had hated argument more than any one of the four Ranch girls, and in the old days used often to run away for a ride or a long walk, leaving the matter to be settled by the other three, who discussed the point to exhaustion.

"Glad to see you, Frieda dear, it is nice to see you so early in the morning and with the baby, especially when I am tired, which does not happen often to me. Will you come indoors or shall we walk about among your old violet beds? They are blooming in special abundance. Perhaps it may amuse Peace to gather some and take them home to the big house. I always feel as if I were selfish having so much more enjoyment from your flower beds than the rest of the family. Remember, Frieda dear, when you planned to be a florist and to rescue the family by selling violets? It was sweet of you."

"I'll stay outdoors and Peace can gather the violets if she wishes, but I did not come down to the lodge at this hour to discuss violets. I never do anything early in the morning, as you know, unless it seems to me excessively important. I know those people appeared here yesterday afternoon, Jacqueline Ralston Kent, to offer you the nomination for Congress; they want you to become a Congressman, or Congresswoman. Who ever heard of such a foolish t.i.tle? Now I wish to know precisely what answer you gave them. I would have walked down to the lodge last night with Henry, except that both Henry and Jim Colter insisted I should leave you alone and give you time to think the matter over for yourself before I spoke to you again."

"But you haven't anything _different_ to say, have you, Frieda, so why let us talk of it at all?"

"To that I will agree only upon _one_ condition, Jacqueline Kent. You must promise me to refuse this nomination once and for all time and never so long as you live have anything to do with politics either in this country or in England."

"That is rather a tall order, don't you think, Frieda?" Jack answered, purposely looking in another direction rather than toward her sister's face.

Frieda always would appear to her a grown up and glorified baby, so long, when they were little girls together, had she looked upon Frieda almost more as a mother than as an older sister.

"Yet unless you do promise, Jack, it can never be the same between us again. So please listen carefully before you reply.

"I know at other times I have objected to small things that you wished to do and sometimes you went ahead and did them without regard to my feelings or my judgment and I never said anything much afterwards even if they did not turn out successfully. But this is a _big_ thing and a _different_ thing, and if you act against my wish I told Henry last night I should never really forgive you, even if for the sake of appearances we pretended that things were the same. I have been much embarra.s.sed recently at your becoming a prominent person in the neighborhood; of course I wished you to be prominent socially and to become a leader, like Mrs. Senator Marshall. She would then be obliged to take second place, in spite of her husband's distinguished position.

But the idea that you, my sister, could actually become interested in politics!" Frieda p.r.o.nounced the word as if it were a deadly poison.

"Why, it simply never dawned upon me, not for the longest time! When we went about to parties together after you had been in Wyoming a year I began to hear people say laughingly that Wyoming needed a young and charming woman to represent her in political life so that she should not fall behind the other states. So why were you not the person, as Lady Astor was in England? The cases were a little alike, you had married an Englishman and had the t.i.tle of Lady Kent, but after your husband's death had preferred to return to your own country, renounce your t.i.tle and resume your American citizenship. You had gone through all the necessary legal formalities to attain that end, you were clever and good-looking and your actions had proved you were a thoroughly patriotic American. The fact that you said you did not belong to any party was perhaps best of all, as women needed to be independent in politics. They were the new voters and should not be slaves to parties as so many American men were.

"This is as nearly as I can remember what was said about you, Jack.

There were other things, not so flattering, but I presume most persons would not like to mention them before me. However, I paid little attention at first, as I thought it was all just talk, because most people have so little to talk about really. Even when you began making speeches about the things you wish to have accomplished in the state of Wyoming (as if your opinion was of any value), why, I did not trouble specially! It all seemed so absurd! Indeed, when you spoke to me a few days ago of what might occur and declared that the nomination for the Congress of the United States might actually be given to you, though I said everything against it I could at the time, I did not really believe it. Then yesterday afternoon actually it happened! But perhaps you refused to consider the suggestion, Jack. Indeed, I feel sure after what I have said to you and knowing Jim Colter's att.i.tude, even if he has said but little, you must have refused. If so, I am sorry to have tired you by talking so much; I am sure I hate talking at any length unless I feel it my duty."

"And you do feel it your duty this time, don't you, Frieda?" Jack answered, slipping her arm through her younger sister's.

"Still, having done your duty, don't you think that after all I may be allowed to use my own judgment in this decision? Suppose I happen to think that life just now is offering me a great and surprising opportunity! It is surprising for me to have been chosen for this distinction; I feel this as keenly as any one of my family or friends, knowing my deficiencies, can feel it! Now don't you think it's unfair to threaten me, Frieda, to threaten in the one way which you know hurts most, the loss of any part of your affection, if I cannot make up my mind to do what you think best for me, not what I may think best for myself? I have never in all our lives, Frieda, suggested that any act of yours could possibly make me care for you less."

Frieda's voice wavered a little.

"Yes, I know, Jack, but then I would never do anything so rash and so foolish as what you contemplate. To see your name in the newspapers, to know that people are everywhere discussing your private affairs, making up disagreeable stories about you if they wish, for you know you are unconventional, Jack, and sometimes do give people opportunities to misjudge you, well, I simply can't bear it. So come on, baby, let us go back home, I see we are in the way here. I apologize, Jack, for wasting your time and mine. I had some socks of Henry's I wished to darn, and I should have been much better employed, as I see you already have reached your decision. Well, Jack, I am sure something very unfortunate will come of any such decision; when you become a public character you will certainly never be the same person to me."

Frieda had slipped her hand inside her little girl's and was about to move away when Jack's arms went round her and her gray eyes, filled with tears, gazed into Frieda's implacable blue ones.

"Frieda, in spite of all your sweetness, don't you realize that you are rather hard sometimes? I wonder if life will ever teach you to be different?"

Frieda's eyes wavered an instant.

"I see nothing to be gained by discussing my weaknesses of character. So long as I satisfy my husband and child I can manage without your good opinion, especially now I know that my interest and my wishes have not the slightest effect upon you." Frieda walked resolutely away.

Several minutes after her departure Jack continued standing in the same spot. Frieda had opened her eyes. She had been thinking that she was still uncertain of her decision and now knew that unconsciously her mind was made up. She intended to accept the nomination which had been offered her and to do everything in her power honestly to win the election.

Returning to Wyoming where she had lived as a child and young girl, she had confided to Jim Colter that she must look for some new and absorbing task to fill her life now that her married life was over. What this interest would be she had not then conceived. What it might be in the future was still uncertain. Yet the next step lay straight ahead.

Never in all their lives had she and Frieda had so serious a difference of opinion, and Frieda's words and manner had hurt more than anything that had happened since her return to the security of her former home.

She could only hope that Frieda would relent, that Professor Russell would use his influence in her favor. Nevertheless, although frequently led by Frieda in small matters, on this occasion she had not been in the slightest degree affected. This was a big decision which she faced, a decision in which Frieda had but scant right to interfere. Of course she must allow for prejudice, certain suggestions which her sister had put forward had made her wince more than she cared to show. But over and against the small things was there not the one big opportunity that she might serve both her country and other women if she did not fail too completely in the work which might or might not lie ahead?

Then in a boyish fashion wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, Jack laughed. "Oh, Frieda will probably forgive me if I make a success, never if I am a failure! People forgive nearly everything to success."

"Jimmie," she called a little later, running around the side of the lodge where her small son was engaged in playing with a magnificent St.

Bernard dog which had been a recent gift from Jim Colter, "won't you go up into the woods behind the Rainbow creek with me and spend the day? We will take our lunch and I'll take my rifle. I don't believe there are many animals left in our woods these days, but there used to be years ago and at least we can play at being pioneers."

But Jack and Jimmie were not to escape so easily.

Opening the gate which led from the front yard half an hour later, they came face to face with Jean Merritt and Olive MacDonnell.

"Trying to run away into your beloved outdoors in the usual fashion, Jack?" Olive said, smiling. "Well, you may go after a while, but Jean and I wish to talk to you first."

"Please don't," Jack murmured, slipping a hand into the hand of the two other original Rainbow ranch girls. "Frieda has already reduced me to tears by overmuch conversation this morning. One could scarcely describe the conversation as argument, as I was allowed to say nothing. Oh, I know, Olive, that you and Jean will not be so obdurate as Frieda and will allow me a point of view on the subject, but just the same, spare me, because I have made up my mind, provided Jim Colter does not positively refuse his consent. I shall not go against Jim's command, although I may against his wish. Otherwise I mean to accept the nomination, poor, uneducated, inefficient, stupid female person that I am and ever must remain."

"Jack, you have _one_ member of your family who will stand by you whatever comes, as you have stood by me in the past year," Jean Merritt announced. "I have not said a great deal while the rest of the family has been doing so much talking and yet I believe I am glad of your decision. I know one is prejudiced against the idea, not so much of women in politics as of a young woman like you, Jack, who is so beautiful and charming and sincere and one who happens to be so near one's own affections. I suppose disagreeable things will be said of you, yet I know of few women so brave and so straightforward, or better able to bear calumny. And I don't see why people think that marriage always protects a woman from unhappiness; it has not protected me."

Jean rarely spoke of her own sorrow and only in moments of the deepest emotion, so that Olive and Jack both flinched at the close of her little speech, and temporarily at least Jack's problem took second place.

In more than a year, since Ralph Merritt's departure to act as mining engineer in a gold mine in New Mexico, no human being who had ever known him before had laid eyes upon him. In all the time since, no word had arrived of his mysterious disappearance from the mine, and no word had ever been received from him addressed either to Jean or to any one of his family or friends. Utterly and completely he had vanished. Months had been spent by Professor Russell in investigating his whereabouts, every clue had been followed, yet from the moment Ralph was known to have gone into his own tent to lie down until the present, no other news of him had been unearthed.

"I still have faith that things will adjust themselves for you some day, Jean, I don't know exactly why. I appreciate I have no possible evidence to support the idea, but I have always believed and do still believe that Ralph will come back some day and be able to explain the mystery of his disappearance."

Jack gave Jean's hand a tight squeeze.

"Jean, it does help a lot to have you say you will stand by me. I may be brave to-day, but to-morrow I shall probably turn coward. Olive, what about you and Bryan?"

Olive let go her friend's hand and did not answer for a moment. She was always quieter and more reserved in her manner than the other Rainbow ranch girls.

"Bryan and I talked over your possible decision until after midnight, Jack. Bryan argued you would accept, I argued you would not. Bryan seems to have known you best. He says you are made of the right material for what you are to undertake. Yet he dreads it all for you as much as I do, the fatigue, the misunderstanding. It seems impossible to me, Jack, as you must appreciate, and yet you and I are wholly unlike. But I believe you are the most courageous woman I have ever known, just as you were the most courageous girl. One thing Bryan wanted me to say both for him and for me. He believes you will not care for the notoriety, not even for the fame, if it should come to you, but only for the opportunity.

And he and I both want you to understand that we will do _everything_ in our power to help you, whatever course you may pursue. You see, dear, Bryan insists I feel toward you like the old axiom, 'My country, right or wrong, but still my country.' However, I told him the old axiom was not only stupid but wrong. One's country must be right, and so must your choice be."

"Hero worship, or rather heroine worship," Jean remonstrated. "Olive had that same absurd att.i.tude toward you as a girl, didn't she, Jack? So small wonder you think you are a sufficiently important person to be nominated for the Congress of the United States! But don't let us keep you any longer from your beloved woods. Jimmie evidently does not know the poem about the small boy: 'Who was never bad, but always good, who never wriggled, but always stood.' So good-by and a happy day."

"You'll tell Jim to come in to speak to me before he goes to bed," Jack called back over her shoulder, as she and Jimmie started off together.

"I must send word in the morning what my decision is and so I must see Jim first."

After a day in the woods Jack was undressing for bed, having decided that it was too late to expect Jim Colter, so she must try to get hold of him before he left home next morning, when she heard a familiar whistle.

"I'll be down in a minute, Jim," she called, thrusting her head out the open window. "Will you come in? The door is open."

"No, I'll wait out here," came the answer back. "Don't dress, I shall only stay a moment. Some business detained me."

A little later, with her hair in two gold braids and holding a violet dressing gown close about her, Jack faced the real test of the long day.

"May I, or may I not, Jim?" she demanded.