ON A SHEEP RANCH
It was mid-afternoon when the long ever upward winding trail had
been climbed, and, at last the girls and their guides drew rein on
the very summit, where a few weeks before, little Red Feather had
paused to point to the valley below, that Outlaw Tom might know
which way to ride to reach the Wilson Ranch.
In the sunlight the distant group of white buildings could be
plainly seen, and Virginia, noting that their Papago friends were
preparing to return, held out her hand to Winona as she said, “Thank
you. We will let you know as soon as we can. Good-bye.”
Half an hour later the big, rambling white ranch house had been
reached and the motherly Mrs. Wilson having observed from her
sitting room window the approach of the strangers was out on the
verandah to greet them.
The girls leaped to the ground and Virginia going forward extended
her hand as she said, “Mrs. Wilson, I am Virginia Davis and these
are my friends from the East, Margaret Selover and Barbara Blair
Wente. My brother Malcolm is here, is he not?”
“Oh, Miss Virginia, you haven’t heard from Tom, have you? We thought
maybe, if he managed to escape, he would try to reach the V. M.
Ranch, being as that was where he’d come from?”
“No, Mrs. Wilson. Tom did not come to the V. M., but I am very eager
to speak with my brother. Is he here now?”
Virginia awaited the answer almost breathlessly, knowing that
Malcolm might be away with one of the searching parties.
“Well now, I’m not real sure as to where he is right this minute,”
the good woman replied, “but here comes Lopez on his pinto. Like as
not he can tell us. Anyhow he can take your horses down to the
corral.”
Mrs. Wilson beckoned to the young Mexican herder, and then, in reply
to her inquiry, he told her that he believed Senor Davis was still
at the bunkhouse.
He would stop there and see.
“Do come right in,” the motherly woman said, “and sit a spell in the
comfortable rockers. You must be worn out, being so many hours in
the saddle.”
The eastern girls were indeed glad to avail themselves of the
invitation, but Virginia could not rest. Oh, how she did wish
Malcolm was there, for, if the message did tell where Tom was being
held in captivity, every moment might be of the greatest importance.
The doors opened and two young men entered. “Oh, brother! brother!”
Virginia exclaimed, rushing toward the outstretched arms of Malcolm.
“Please don’t rebuke us for coming, for we have news that we
thought, or at least I thought, might be of great importance.” Then
she inquired anxiously, “You have not heard from Tom?”
“No,” he replied, and his tone implied that they had all but lost
hope of hearing. Then he led his sister to the rocker, saying
tenderly, “You are trembling like a leaf, Virginia. You are over
tired and excited, but I understand.”
Then he returned to welcome Margaret, who in turn introduced Babs.
“It’s hard to remember formalities just now,” he said. “You girls
have become acquainted with Mrs. Wilson. Now permit me to introduce
her older son, Harry.” Then turning to Virginia he inquired: “Did
you say, sister, that you have a message?” Virginia hurriedly told
the story of the captured carrier pigeon and she knew by the eyes of
her listeners that they were all keenly interested. “May I see that
bit of brown paper?” Harry asked as he held out his hand. “I will be
able to read it.” Virginia gave him the small paper and then they
all waited, scarcely breathing in their eagerness. The ticking of
the big clock on the wall was the only sound that broke the
stillness. Suddenly Harry leaped to his feet, his face tense,
“Malcolm,” he cried, “there isn’t a minute to lose! Quick! Call the
herders, we’ll need all the help we can get.” Then, not realizing
that he had not told the message to the girls, he left the house,
and raced toward the bunkhouse, shouting to Lopez.
In half an hour many things had been hurriedly done. Malcolm, who
had raced after Harry, returned as he had promised Virginia that he
would to tell the girls the meaning of the message. It was. “The
sheep are south of Agua Prieta. Get them at once. Drive to Rebano
Rancho. Do away with herders.”
“Brother! Brother!” Virginia sobbed. “Are we too late? Have they
done away with the herders? Oh, tell me, what do you think?”
“Harry and I believe that whoever is to get the sheep is still
waiting for the carrier pigeon and if so Tom may as yet be unharmed.
Our hope is, since the message has not been delivered, that we may
reach Agua Prieta before the rustlers receive an order from some
other source. If we do, we may be able to regain the sheep and save
our friend Tom.” Then he added, “I know you girls are terribly tired
but I think that you would better return with us as our way to Agua
Prieta leads so close to V. M. What do you think, Virginia?”
But Mrs. Wilson would not hear of it. “Do let the poor dears rest,”
she said. “They look as pale as lilies and wilted ones at that. I’m
expecting my younger son, Benjy, to return home tomorrow and on the
day after he will gladly escort the girls to V. M.”
Bab’s heart gave a leap of joy when she heard that she was to see
her friend Benjamin Wilson so soon again, and that evening, when the
young men had ridden to the south, after having partaken of a
bounteous repast, the girls and Mrs. Wilson sat in the big
living-room where a log from the mountains was burning cheerily on
the hearth.
Mrs. Wilson had been delighted to find that Babs knew her younger
son and she wanted to know all about the Drexel Military Academy,
and so, to pass the time and to permit Virginia to follow her own
thoughts uninterrupted, Babs recounted to a delighted listener the
story of her acquaintance, beginning with the surprise Valentine
party, where she had first met Benjy, telling of the afternoon in
town where she and the lad had seats next to each other at the
theater, and ending with the April Fool letter and the happy
culmination of the romance of their two instructors, Miss Piquilin
and Professor Pixley.
The good woman beamed at the petite girl whom she thought almost too
pretty and fragile “like a bit of porcelain that ought to be kept in
a glass case,” but aloud she said, “I’m real glad you know my boy.
Like ’tis you’re about his age.”
“I’m fifteen,” Barbara replied, “and Benjy told me that he would be
sixteen this month I believe.” Mrs. Wilson nodded, “Yes, my boy is
sixteen now.” Then she added with pride glowing in her kindly eyes,
“I don’t know where he took it from, but he sure has a great head
for the learning. His teacher here in the Red Riverton school said
that Benjy didn’t no more than open his book before he knew his
lesson, seemed like. His daddy and I had always had a hankering to
have one son as would have a college education, and so, ever since
our first boy came, we put away some money every month in the old
tea pot with the nose broken off and we called it ‘Hal’s schoolin’
fund,’ but Harry didn’t want a higher education and so he said,
‘Send Benjy, mother. We’ll make a scholar of him, but I’ll stick to
the sheep raisin’.’ That’s how it came that Benjy was sent East to
school, but come now, it’s late and I know you’re all tired out.
Being as there are three of you, how do you wish to divide?”
“We don’t divide,” Margaret laughingly replied. “We sleep all
together,” but there was one of the three who did not close her eyes
until morning, and even then she did not sleep for over and over
again her thought kept repeating, “If only I could help save Tom.”