The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge

CHAPTER XVII
THE ROUND-UP

JUST after dawn, Olive stole softly into Jack's and Jean's bedrooms. Jean was asleep. But Jack's place was empty. On her pillow was a sheet of paper addressed to "Miss Ruth Drew."

Olive alone of the group before the living-room fire in the evening just past, had realized that Jack had no idea of giving up her intention.

Olive slipped quickly into her clothes, determined to follow her friend. She was unusually timid, but she knew that Jack must not go alone among the wild cattle and the strange men who gathered at the autumn round-up. The girl had little knowledge of what a round-up was like but knew that the Indians often went to it and camped about on the outskirts of the plains to enjoy the racing and sports that usually closed the day's work.

Jack must have had about a half hour's start of Olive. She rode as fast as she could tear for the first few miles of the way, knowing that Jim had started several hours before. Their cowboys had been off over the plains for two days searching for their stray cattle and herding them into the great open field selected for the round-up. There was no one to follow her and Jack slowed down. Then her heart began to fail her the least little bit, for she supposed everybody at the ranch would be furious with her for her disobedience.

Jack heard another horse coming along the trail behind her. Her repentance vanished, for she presumed Miss Drew had sent some one to bring her ignominiously back home.

"Jack, Jack," Olive's gentle voice called. "Won't you please slow down a little? Your horse is faster than mine and my poor beast is tired already."

Jacqueline waited, but she stared at Olive reproachfully. "I did not think you would come to try to make me go back home, Olive," Jack exclaimed. "I thought you knew that when I said I intended to do a thing, I would do it, in spite of all the Miss Ruth Drews and Mr. Jim Colters in the world."

Olive knew that Jack was behaving abominably but she could not help feeling the deepest admiration for her. To Olive, Jack's courage and high spirit were glorious. Olive was so shy and frightened; she had borne so much ill treatment from the time she was a little girl that her nature was almost crushed and she could only contend with people when she was driven to the last limit of patience. But when Olive made up her mind to a step, she had the Indian's power of endurance.

"I only came to go along to the round-up with you, Jack," Olive replied quietly.

Jack flushed. She was fairly sure of being able to bear her own burdens, but she did hate getting other people into trouble. "You are awfully sweet, Olive dear, but do go back home," Jack urged. "Jim and Cousin Ruth will both be furiously angry with us and there is no reason why you should have any of the blame. You know you will hate this old round-up and be dreadfully frightened, and that you are only coming on my account."

Olive shook her head. "Never mind, Jack," she answered, "I have come with you now so I would have to get my share of the scolding and I am not going to have you go to that place alone." Olive kept her horse just behind Jack's and the two girls rode for a short time in silence. By and by Jack sighed.

"What's the matter, Jack?" Olive asked quickly.

Jack laughed wickedly. "Oh, it is not that I have repented of my evil deed, Olive," she returned. "It is only that I am so dreadfully hungry. I sneaked off this morning without a bit of food. I know we can get some lunch at the mess-wagons, or perhaps we may find some one we know at the round-up. But the question with me is, how am I ever going to live until then?"

Olive silently produced two rolls with slices of bacon between them.

"I stole them on my way to the stable," she announced happily. "I knew you hadn't eaten anything and I didn't dare to wait."

The two girls ate their outdoor breakfast ravenously, for both were enjoying their morning ride. It was cold, but they wore heavy sweaters and corduroy riding skirts and besides, the swift ride had sent the warm blood tingling through them. Jack was in brown and Olive in green, the color Jack liked best for her. The sun had just risen and there was a faint rose glow over the bare prairies, and in the distance the girls spied a few coyotes racing along over the hard ground in search of their breakfast, but for miles and miles there was no sign of human life.

Finally the girls rode up to a pair of tents set up within no great distance of the plain chosen for the round-up. There was a fire near one of them, but the girls saw no people about and decided that they must have been used by the cowboys for their sleeping quarters at night.

Olive brought her pony closer to Jack's.

"Don't be nervous, Olive," said Jack reassuringly. "I expect the round-up is a pretty wild business, but we won't go near enough to get into trouble and you must be sure to stay close to me. I shall try to see some one to ask about our cattle and then we will start right back home. We will be sure to be at Rainbow Lodge by night."

Away off in the distance, the girls soon saw a great swirling cloud of grey dust, rising over the yellow plain. They could distinguish an enormous mass of moving objects and hear a far hollow roaring and bellowing of men and animals. To the left, across a diagonal trail, Jack saw a dark line of wagons at some distance from the round-up. She knew they were the mess-wagons and carriages of the ranchmen, who came over to superintend the branding of their cattle. If the ranchmen happened to live near the scene of the round-up their wives and families sometimes drove over to spend a few hours, but the women were careful not to go near the frightened animals and returned home before night.

The two girls moved slowly along this trail.

Jack's eyes were dancing and her cheeks were glowing with excitement. She dearly loved this typical western scene and its noise and savagery did not frighten her. It was a part of the business of the cattlemen to which she had always been accustomed. She was sorry of course that the poor animals had to be burned with the brands of their owners, but since the cattle ranged together through vast tracts of land, she knew of no other way by which one ranchman could distinguish his cattle from another's. Jack had been careful never to witness the branding, but she had often seen the cowboys driving the herds across the plains.

But Olive did not feel so cheerful. The distant noise and the surging crowd alarmed her. She wished that she and Jack were safe at home.

Coming at full speed down the trail toward them, the two girls spied two cowboys wearing the full cowboy regalia, leather suits with fringed trousers and immense sombrero hats, tied under their chins.

"Great Scott!" cried a familiar voice. "Here come Jack Ralston and her Indian girl! What a place for a couple of girls to be alone!"

Jack's ears burned. She recognized Dan's tones but was not so much abashed by meeting him, as she was by Frank Kent's astonished face. The young English fellow's surprise was unmistakable.

"May I stay with you until your escort joins you, Miss Ralston?" Frank asked immediately. "The men about here are pretty rough and if you should happen to get too near the cattle it might be dangerous. I am told they sometimes break out and start a stampede."

Jack kept her face turned away while Frank was speaking. She was actually ashamed to return his friendly gaze. Frank had entirely separated himself from Dan Norton, who was grinning scornfully at Olive and Jack.

"Please don't worry about us, Mr. Kent," Jack said quietly. "We won't get into danger. I don't exactly like to tell you, but we rode over to the round-up by ourselves. You understand that we didn't mean to go near the men or the cattle, but I thought we might find some one we knew near the mess-wagons."

"Come on, Frank Kent," Dan Norton yelled impatiently. "Do you think I have got time to waste while you talk to Jack Ralston all day? I told Laura we would be back with them in half an hour. Hustle."

Frank Kent's face was no longer pale, as it had been when Jack had her first meeting with him on the Ralston Ranch. It had been tanned and reddened by his weeks in the sun and air of Wyoming, but that did not account for the sudden color that flamed in it. "Be quiet, Dan, you cad," he ordered sharply. "Go when you like, I shall stay with Miss Ralston and her friend."

"I say, Miss Ralston," Frank suggested suddenly. "Mr. and Mrs. Simpson are not very far away. They came over in their automobile, because Mrs. Simpson thought maybe her sister and niece would like to see the cowboys from the different ranches ride up to their work. Gee, they are stunning-looking fellows, aren't they? I wish I were an artist, I would like to paint them. Won't you come over to Mrs. Simpson with me? They are well out of any danger and I know Mrs. Simpson would want you and Miss Olive to join her."

An unregenerate twinkle returned to Jack's eyes. "To tell you the truth, Mr. Kent, I would like awfully to go over and stay with Aunt Sallie. Olive and I feel very strange here alone, but the fact is I deliberately ran away from home to come to the round-up and Olive rode along to protect me. I am ashamed to confess my sin to Mrs. Simpson."

"Nevertheless you had better come," Frank urged, and for once, Jack yielded to another will.

It might have been wiser to have turned back home than to have faced Aunt Sallie and her Eastern relatives, but Jack and Olive could not have ridden to Rainbow Lodge without having something more to eat. Olive already seemed exhausted. She was quite pale and scarcely lifted her eyes. Jack knew that Olive hated to meet the members of the house party, whom she had not seen since the time when she was rescued from being Miss Laura Post's maid.

"Jack Ralston, the most unlikely place in the world is the most likely place to find you," Mrs. Simpson exclaimed laughingly, as Frank and the two newcomers rode up to her big touring car. "What in the world are you girls doing here?"

"Shall I tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Aunt Sallie?" Jack demanded, smiling at Mrs. Simpson and bowing to Mrs. Post, Laura and Mr. Simpson. Mrs. Post put up her lorgnettes, as though she were in a box at the opera, to gaze at these extraordinary girls. Their clothes were dusty and their hair showed the effects of their long, morning ride, but turning, Mrs. Post beheld her beloved Laura swathed in a pale pink motor veil and a long fur coat, and breathed a sigh of admiration and relief. Surely her Laura was not in the least like these Western tomboys!

Mrs. Simpson shrugged her handsome shoulders. "Well, you usually tell the truth, whatever else you do and don't do, Jack," Mrs. Simpson avowed. "I know you have run off, so just stay here and have lunch with me."

Mrs. Simpson was talking to Jack, but she was really interested in Olive. How the girl had changed, in the few weeks since she had seen her: she had always been pretty, but she had lost her look of fear. Her grace and quiet manner showed beyond a doubt that from some source she had a heritage of gentle blood. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson shook hands with Olive very kindly, but Mrs. Post and Laura utterly ignored her. Olive showed no resentment, but Jack was exceedingly provoked.

The girls dismounted and climbed into the automobile. Now and then groups of cowboys would pass by them, jingling their spurs and joking with one another. Olive recognized a number of Indian boys, who had lived in the Indian village, where she had been brought up. Among them, she thought she saw old Laska's son and her supposed brother, Josef.

Mrs. Simpson was worried over Dan's return to their party. She and Mr. Simpson, and indeed all the ranchmen in the neighborhood, now knew of Mr. Daniel Norton's claim to the ownership of Rainbow Ranch, and his efforts to get it away from the ranch girls. Most of the neighbors deeply sympathized with the Ralston girls. Mrs. Simpson dreaded a meeting between Jack and Dan. She knew they were open enemies and hated each other very sincerely.

But when Dan joined them, Jack showed no trace of ill feeling. She had thought matters over and decided that good manners compelled her to behave as naturally as possible. She had no right to continue a quarrel, when she and Dan were both guests.

Dan Norton was in no such humor. He was furious with Frank for having brought Jack and Olive to Mrs. Simpson, and he was determined to get even with Jack, if he possibly could, for Jim's treatment of him at their last meeting.

Mrs. Simpson had an early lunch, since they meant to return to their ranch in a short time. The tablecloth was spread out on the ground, and unconsciously she placed Laura and Dan next Olive, who made no effort to speak to them. But Dan whispered something to Laura, immediately they got up and marching to the other end of the line of guests, sat down directly opposite Jack and Frank.

Nobody had much to say. To save her life, Jack could not talk naturally with Dan's sneering face across from her. Mr. and Mrs Simpson did their best, but the luncheon party was a failure.

Dan was awaiting his opportunity.

"Jack," Mr. Simpson remarked innocently, "Jim Colter tells me that you have recently been losing some of your cattle and young colts. He says that they disappear from your ranch, and when they are seen again they have the brand of another owner on them. That is a pretty bad business. Have you any idea who is responsible for the trouble?"

Jack shook her head desperately. She was determined to say nothing that could make any trouble. "No, Mr. Simpson, we don't know. That is, it don't make any difference. Perhaps we are mistaken," she answered lamely.

Mr. Simpson was puzzled by Jack's manner. There was an awkward silence.

Dan leaned over and whispered to Laura in a tone that could be distinctly heard, not only by Jack and Frank, but by every member of the small company. "I shouldn't think Jack Ralston would worry about losing a few of her old cattle. She is going to lose something else pretty soon, that is a good deal more important."

Laura snickered nervously. She caught sight of Jack's face.

Mrs. Simpson frowned and glanced hastily at Jack. Mr. Simpson's eyes flashed and he too watched his young girl guest. Jack was distinctly conscious that everybody in the party stared straight at her when Dan ended his insulting speech.

Jack felt herself turn cold all over. Only her face was scorching hot. Half a dozen angry retorts trembled on her lips. She started to speak, but then she turned to Frank and said quietly. "Won't you tell me something more about your home in England? I am awfully interested."

Mrs. Simpson breathed a sigh of relief. Only Laura seemed disappointed. There was nothing she loved half so well as a scene and she fondly believed Dan and Jack meant to treat her to one.

Ten minutes later, Jack went over to Mrs. Simpson. "Aunt Sallie, I think Olive and I had better start back to the ranch now. You were awfully good to give us our luncheon, but we ought to be at home by dark."

Mrs. Simpson caught Jack's hand. "You were a trump, Jack dear," she whispered. "I would like to shake that red-headed boy if I had a chance at him, but I believe somebody else will when you go."

Jack smiled, though her voice trembled a little. "I don't think Dan and I ought to carry on our quarrels at your table, Aunt Sallie," she answered. "But you know if he says anything like that to me again, I should die if I didn't answer him back. So, good-bye."

Jacqueline bowed her farewells and she and Olive started toward their ponies.

Frank Kent had a moment alone with Dan.

"Dan Norton, you have got to settle with me for that speech, you cub," he insisted, in a white passion of anger that startled his host.

Dan thought Frank too much of a gentleman to be willing to fight.

"All right," he rejoined calmly, "choose your own time."

Half way over to their horses, Frank joined Olive and Jack.

"I am going to ride back to your ranch with you, Miss Ralston," Frank announced quietly.

Olive looked relieved, but Jack shook her head firmly.

"You are awfully good, Mr. Kent," Jack protested. "But really Olive and I can go home perfectly well alone. We would rather not trouble you."

Frank assisted Olive on her broncho and then climbed into his own saddle, Jack being already mounted.

"Mr. Simpson thinks I had better go home with you," Frank repeated carelessly. "And I think you might let me act as an honorary escort, because in case you don't I shall simply ride along behind you."

CHAPTER XVIII
A RACE FOR LIFE

"JACK, don't you think we are going too near the corrals?" Olive inquired timidly.

It was high noon. The cattle had been brought by the cowboys into the open field and each ranchman had divided his own stock from the herds. The animals had been driven into the corrals, separate enclosures made of fence rails, one belonging to each of the neighboring ranches. In the afternoon the branding of the cattle took place, but most of the cowboys had now gone off to get something to eat before the real business of the day began. Only a dozen men guarded the entire stockade.

"Oh, no, Olive," Jack answered lightly. "I believe, if we ride a little closer, we may get some news of Jim. I would like to see him to ask him some questions, before we start back home." Jack rode gaily ahead, forgetting her disagreeable scene with Dan Norton. The swarming hundreds of cows and calves, the bright sunshine, the brilliantly blue sky overhead, the noise and splendid action of the scene interested her tremendously.

"I think Miss Olive is right, Miss Ralston," Frank insisted gravely. "We must not ride too near the stock, for fear of a stampede."

"Just a few feet more," Jack begged, turning half way around in her saddle to glance back at Olive and Frank.

At this moment an immense bull burst out of one of the corrals and made a wild dash across an open field. He was not headed toward Jack, or Olive, or Frank, and there did not appear to be the least danger.

Two of the cowboys made a rush to cut off the bull's charge but turned back a moment later to their companions. It was more important for the men to keep the other animals from following their leader, than to recapture the one infuriated beast.

Jim Colter had warned Jacqueline, when he first gave her the new pony, that "Tricks" was well named. He had told her that she would have to watch the little animal pretty closely, but Jack was a trained rider and so far the mare had not given her any trouble. She had not realized, when she came to the round-up, that "Tricks" was one of the ponies that had been formerly used by the cow-punchers at the round-ups.

Tricks saw the bull break away from the stockade and make its plunge for freedom at the moment that Jack turned her head and slightly relaxed her hold on the broncho's bridle.

The pony's fighting blood was up. She did not intend to see a bull escape when it was her business as a cowboy's pony, to head him off and turn him back toward the herd. She made a leap forward, running diagonally across the plain, in order to cross in front of the bull at the shortest possible distance. For the first time in her experience, Jack Ralston completely lost control of the horse she was riding; the pony's headlong rush had been too unexpected. Tricks was a good-sized broncho with a will of her own and was convinced that she was doing her duty.

Jack had unfortunately taken off her gloves. People in the West never ride the hard-mouthed little Western ponies, without thick leather gauntlets. She pulled on her reins until they cut into her flesh, but the pony ran on. Still Jack had no idea of not being able to control her before she got into danger.

No one, except Frank and Olive, saw Jack's wild dash. The cowboys were riding in and out among the corrals, swinging their long ropes and forcing the excited cattle back into their enclosures.

"Get back out of the way," Frank commanded Olive quickly. Almost before she realized what had taken place, Frank Kent was off like a shot after the flying Jack.

His horse pounded along, but Jack was yards ahead. Frank did not know what he could do, if he reached Jack. He could only grasp her bridle and try to stop both of their ponies. At best, if he got ahead of her, he might be able to shut off the bull's mad charge. There would be only one way to do it and that would be to let the animal rush upon his horse. He knew nothing of the cowboys' methods. He had no lasso. He had seen pictures of Spanish toreadors with their flaming scarlet scarfs. If he only had as much as a red handkerchief, perhaps he might divert the bull's course. Of course Frank realized that this would have been a forlorn hope. But nothing really mattered. Jack's pony continued to gain on his; he had not a fighting chance of overtaking her.

Frank hardly dared look at Jack. He could see so clearly what would happen: the range-bred pony would take her straight in front of the furious bull, not knowing that her rider was not a cowboy and would be unequal to the task of turning the great brute aside. She would do her part and expected Jack to do the rest. Jack did not have so much as a small riding whip in her hand, having lost it in her pony's first plunge ahead. But she now realized her peril; one glimpse of her face would have revealed this. It was white as marble save for the flying, bronze gold of her hair. Her eyes were wide open and almost black and her lips were parted. But there was no give-up in her expression; determination marked every fine cut line.

Jack had considered but two alternatives. Either she must stop her wild pony or drive back the maddened bull. Now she knew she could do neither. She was only a few yards from the bull and understood that an animal in a wild rush for liberty, never turns aside unless he is driven.

Half unconsciously Frank Kent closed his eyes. Jacqueline Ralston had seemed to him so splendid, typifying to him the free, outdoor life of the great West. He realized that Jack had lots of faults, but that she was the kind of girl who would make a wonderful woman. She was a true American girl, brave, generous and gay. The thought of her being injured, or killed, was horrible. She was the very spirit of youth and energy.

Frank looked again. Jack was going to face death squarely, or else to drive her pony across the bull's course, before it reached her. Yet the last method seemed hopeless, because the pony was master of the race, not Jack. The girl had stooped low in her saddle. Her feet were out of the stirrups and she lay almost flat across the pony's back. She seemed to slip to one side. Frank watched for another horrified second. Jack and her horse were not a hundred feet from the bull.

Then something slid along the ground on the right side of the pony, ran a few feet, let go of the bridle and sat down limply in the brown grass.

Frank shouted as he had never thought it in him to shout. The trick of dropping from her horse that Jack had just effected, he had seen accomplished once in a Buffalo Bill show in London. The vision of a girl doing it for her own safety was the most thrilling sight he had ever seen in his life.

Tricks, deserted by her rider, and uncertain what she should do alone, sprang to one side as the bull lunged at her, and the danger was all over in an instant.

Frank found Jack shaking like one in a chill. But she smiled at him bravely and put out her hand to let him pull her off the ground.

"Perhaps, Frank," she said, forgetting formalities in her thankfulness, "if I live long enough, I may some day learn to do what I am told. Please take me back to Olive."

Tricks, exhausted by her wild run, was led back to Jack, a weary and repentant pony.

Jack was silent and shaken. She followed Frank back to the spot where they had left Olive, without a word.

The cowboys were returning to the work of branding the cattle and it was high time the ranch girls started for home. But neither Jack nor Frank could find a trace of Olive. She had completely disappeared. They rode over to the spot where they had lunched with Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, but the automobile party had left for their ranch. Frank inquired of a dozen cowboys. No one of them had seen Olive.

Jack tried not to cry, but the day's experiences had been too much for her. She had never been so utterly wretched before.

"Don't worry, Miss Ralston," Frank urged. "I'll bet you anything that Miss Olive has run across your overseer, Jim Colter, and has returned to Rainbow Ranch with him."

Jack shook her head despairingly. "Olive would not go away without telling me, for anything in the world," she insisted. "Besides, Jim would not leave me here. He is somewhere around, won't you find him?"

Frank insisted that Jack wait in a place of safety a mile farther along the trail toward their ranch. For an hour Jack walked up and down a few yards of barren ground, her pony resting near her. The time seemed an eternity.

By and by Frank arrived with Jim Colter. Jim looked sternly at Jack, but she was past caring what he said or thought of her.

"Can't you find Olive, Jim?" Jack pleaded.

"I'll do my best," Jim returned. "Mr. Kent will take you home to the ranch."

"But I can't go without Olive, Jim. I'll stay here until you find her. She has probably just lost her way," Jack entreated.

"Hope so," Jim repeated shortly. "But in any case, your place is at home."

Jack hesitated.

"Haven't you made enough trouble for yourself and other people already to-day, Jack?" Jim questioned keenly. And Jack submissively bowed her head.