The Ranch Girls and Their Heart's Desire Part 16

"Very well," Jacqueline Kent agreed, smiling and at the same time with a serious expression in her eyes. "But, Jim, when you wake you might as well decide to tell me the truth. Don't you suppose I have guessed the greater part of it?"

There was a silence for some time in the big room, Jim Colter closing his eyes, Jack staring out the window at the familiar scenes she loved.

By and by, when he did not believe she was aware of what he was doing, Jim opened his eyes and stared at his companion's profile.

Jack looked more fatigued than he often remembered to have seen her; she had less color, less her old suggestion of vitality. There were circles under her eyes, little hollows in her cheeks. Yet she did not look ill and one could scarcely marvel at the change in her after the past trying months, first the strain of her effort at electioneering on her own behalf, and more recently the tax which he and Frieda's little girl had put upon her.

If she were elected to Congress would she ever be the old-time Jack again? Jim Colter had to suppress a sigh of dissatisfaction over the thought, which may have sounded more like a groan. To think of Jack with her youth and charm shut up within the Legislative halls in Washington was not only an absurdity, but something far worse! Well, of course if caught by a wave of enthusiasm and desire for change, Jack should be elected to the United States Congress he must arrange to spend part of the year with her. The two older of the new little Ranch girls must go to school and Jean Merritt would look after the others. The Rainbow ranch and his own adjoining ranch would have to be turned over to one of his a.s.sistants, since Jack would need him more than any other person or any other thing.

Then Jim Colter closed his eyes. Would she actually need him more, or was it because he cared more for her need than for any possible human demand that could be made upon him? Always he had been tremendously fond of Jack, unhesitatingly more fond of her than of the other three Ranch girls in her gallant but wilful girlhood. Now, since his own loss and hers, and since Jack's return to the Rainbow ranch, surely there was no point in denying to himself that the affection which held him to her was stronger than ever, stronger than any other emotion in his life.

"Jim, you are not asleep, you are only pretending," Jack said suddenly.

"Now tell me, didn't you go over to the village on the day you were hurt because you heard I was to make a speech and there might be trouble? And didn't you arrive so late you felt it best not to tell me to go home, because I had already started to speak? And after the rumpus began and Jimmie and I were safely on the way home didn't you try to find out who was responsible for the discourtesy to me? Afterwards what happened, Jim?

"Jack, I suppose I forgot a good many things I should have remembered, first and foremost that I did not wish you made conspicuous and that I was older than I used to be, and that I ought by this time to have learned to control my temper."

"Yes, but Billy Preston declares that when he arrived you seemed to have half a dozen persons against you and that you were managing pretty well.

It was disgraceful of you, Jim; you who have been preaching for as many years as I can remember that there was to be no fighting on the Rainbow ranch for any cause whatsoever and that no excuse would be accepted by you as a justifiable one. What influence do you suppose your sermons will now have among the cowboys? As for making me conspicuous, it seems rather a funny thing that neither you nor I recognized that running for a public office is apt to make one conspicuous. One can hardly vote for a person one has never heard of."

Jim sighed.

"Yes, you are right, Jack, but it is too late now to discuss this side of the situation. If you are elected it won't be any better; sure to be worse, in fact. I suppose you realize that if you live in Washington the greater part of the year, you'll have to bear with my society most of the time."

Jacqueline Kent bit her lip for an instant and then shook her head.

"Good of you to suggest it, Jim, but out of the question of course.

Jimmie and I'll have to manage somehow, trusting members of the family will visit us now and then to see how we are getting on. But as for you, you are too much needed here at the ranch, besides having to look after the new little ranch girls. I could never accept the sacrifice."

"Yes? But I don't see how you are going to prevent it, Jack," Jim answered abruptly and in a tone Jack had never contradicted in her life.

Always Jim Colter had been the one person whose will was stronger than her own, even in the important matters in which she always felt she had the better right to judge.

"Oh, well, we won't quarrel on the subject yet, Jim, because of course there are ninety-nine chances to one that I won't be elected. I must go now and dress for dinner. Here comes Professor Russell to sit with you.

I'll come back later if I hear the returns to-night."

A little after eight o'clock on this same evening, a group of Jacqueline Kent's friends, her own family, and Jacqueline herself, were standing talking together in the drawing-room of the big house; occasionally one or two of them disappeared to come back with the latest news of the election returns.

Earlier in the afternoon the reports from the neighborhood districts had given a majority to the feminine candidate. Later, when the counting began to take place in the cities, there appeared a change in the results, with Peter Stevens leading. Then Jacqueline Kent's victory seemed a.s.sured by a sudden spurt in the figures giving her an important lead throughout the western portion of the state.

"Do you think we will know to-night without doubt?" Frieda Russell inquired of John Marshall, who had driven over and had dinner with his friends at the Rainbow ranch.

"One cannot be positive in any election until the next day, Mrs.

Russell," he a.s.sured Frieda, "but I think between ten o'clock and midnight we can be pretty positive, at least that is the view my father takes, and he has been in politics nearly as long as I can remember. He told me to tell 'Jack' as he calls her, that he congratulates her whatever occurs, whether she is defeated or elected."

"Well, I don't know what to hope," Frieda murmured. "For months I have been praying Jack would _not_ win, and now to-night I feel I may hate it if she is not elected. You know I shall also feel responsible in a way since so many of Jack's friends insist that her taking no part in the campaign during the last weeks has made such a difference."

"Oh, that could not be helped! And sometimes I think, though I have done my best to help Mrs. Kent win, that she is too young and that an older and perhaps a different kind of woman might be more suitable. See, even after all she has been through, she looks like a young girl to-night. I don't believe she cares very much."

Frieda glanced toward her sister, who was standing before the drawing-room fire laughing and talking to several friends and appearing less perturbed than she herself felt.

Jack was paler than usual and there were circles under her eyes which Frieda knew were uncommon, notwithstanding her eyes and lips were both smiling. She wore a white serge dress trimmed with silver braid, her hair was slightly parted on one side and coiled low on her neck.

"One cannot always tell how Jack feels, she is braver than most persons.

Frankly, I don't know any more than you do how much she is interested in winning. I do think she scarcely realized what it meant when she was originally nominated. It isn't like Jack to turn back once she has started, although I believe she did find the publicity harder to bear than she antic.i.p.ated. You see, an older person, or one who had had more experience in political life, would have understood, but Jack has lived in England for the past years. On her return home it appeared a wonderful experience to play some part in American politics, as the women are beginning to do in England. I don't think Jack realized she might not be fitted for a political career when other people began urging her forward."

John Marshall laughed.

"No, I don't feel she is unsuited to a great career, but it was of her personally I was thinking. If you'll excuse me for a few moments I will go to the telephone again. It is growing late and my father has promised to telephone me from headquarters at a little before ten o'clock. Even if he has been working for Peter Stevens because he wants a man to be elected rather than a woman, we can count on his figures being accurate."

John Marshall disappeared. A quarter of an hour pa.s.sed and he did not return. In the meantime three or four other persons went away to join him.

The clock on the mantel was striking half-past ten when Jack herself heard the noise of a horse galloping toward the house. It was she who walked quietly to an already open window and stretched forth her hand to receive the telegram.

"This telegram comes from Cheyenne, I suppose it will be official and we shall know the best or the worst," she announced. Then opening it she read aloud:

"Victory conceded to Peter Stevens. Better luck next time."

Afterwards, in the brief silence which followed, Frieda Russell burst into tears.

"But, Frieda," Jack expostulated, slipping an arm about her sister and smiling as she faced the group of people gazing directly at her, "I thought you wanted me to be defeated. You have never wished for anything else." She turned to the others. "I can only say that I am deeply grateful for everybody's kindness, yet the voters of Wyoming probably have acted wisely. All women may not need longer preparation before holding public office, but I am afraid I do. Now if you will pardon me, I confess I am tired and would like to say good-night."

Running swiftly upstairs, Jacqueline Kent paused for an instant outside her former guardian's door. She had been staying in the big house during his illness.

"Is that you, Jack?" a voice asked instantly. "Well, what is the news?"

"I was defeated, Jim. Peter Stevens is the next Congressman from Wyoming."

"Well, Jack, I'd hate to tell you how glad I am. Are you very deeply disappointed?"

"No, Jim, I am not. I believe I feel relieved. But please don't tell other people. Good-night."

CHAPTER XVII

THE HEART'S DESIRE

"Mrs. Kent, there is some one down at the ranch house inquiring either for you or for Jim Colter. He will not give his name. Since you do not wish Mr. Colter to be disturbed I thought it best to bring the message to you. The man looks as if he had been ill for some time and his clothes are pretty shabby, but otherwise he seems all right."

The man who was speaking was one of the new ranchmen on the Rainbow ranch whom Jacqueline Kent had lately employed.

As Jim Colter had not recovered from his injury so rapidly as might have been expected, Jack had taken upon herself the entire management of the Rainbow ranch and was a.s.sisting with the management of the adjoining place, which belonged to Jim Colter.

"Yes, thank you, I am glad you came to me; I'll ride down to the ranch house as soon as I can get away. I have some things that must be attended to first. You'll see that the man is properly cared for until I can get there."

"Yes."