AN EARLY MORNING RIDE
On the morning following the departure of Harry, Malcolm and the
herder, Lopez, the three girls awakened with different emotions in
their hearts.
Virginia, who had not slept at all until nearly morning, awoke with
a sense of great weariness and then, of even greater anxiety. It
seemed strange to her that she should care so much for one whom she
had known for so short a time. Perhaps it was because Tom had seemed
to need someone to be loving and kind, he was so all alone in the
world. Barbara on the contrary, awakened with a consciousness of a
delighted anticipation, and springing up, she merrily exclaimed,
“Oh, girls, just think! This is the day that you are to meet that
nice boy, Benjy Wilson. I wonder at what hour he is to arrive?”
A surprise awaited them, for a little later, when the three girls
trooped out to the kitchen from which a tempting odor of frying ham
and eggs and steaming coffee was wafted, they saw not only the
bustling, motherly woman, Mrs. Wilson, but standing near the range,
warming his hands over the heat, was a tall, comely youth, dressed
in the uniform of a military academy.
He glanced up when he heard the girls entering, and it was evident
by his expression that his mother had not told him of the near
presence of his friend from the East.
Leaping forward with outstretched hands, his face alight, the lad
exclaimed, “Am I seeing visions? Miss Barbara, this surely cannot be
you! Only last week I rode over to your school to bid you good-bye
and ask when you were coming to visit your friends in Arizona. I was
told that all of the pupils had suddenly departed because of an
epidemic, and I deeply regretted not being able to see you and make
plans for re-meeting you here on the desert. I little supposed that
you would be awaiting me in my very own home.”
Barbara laughed. “I do not wonder that you are amazed,” she
declared. “We three girls have been living in a whirl of strange
adventure of late, and honestly I am not at all sure that we are
real. Perhaps, as you first suggested, we may be merely visions, and
yet,” she added doubtfully as she sniffed the appetizing odors, “can
a vision be ravenously hungry for ham and eggs and coffee? But I am
quite forgetting my manners. Doesn’t it seem queer that I had to
cross a continent to introduce Miss Virginia Davis to her neighbor,
Mr. Benjamin Wilson? This other fair maid with violets for eyes and
the dimples we all envy, is, or rather was, my room-mate, Margaret
Selover, of whom I have often told you.”
Benjy acknowledged the introductions with a grace of manner which he
had readily acquired during his year at the military academy, and
his fond mother watching the lad, her eyes shining with pride,
secretly congratulated herself that she and “pa” had gone without
many little things that the money might be put in the broken nosed
tea-pot for Benjy’s education fund.
“Come to breakfast everybody,” she now sang out in her pleasant,
hearty way, “and do eat all that you possibly can for you have a
long ride ahead of you.
“But there, Benjy doesn’t know a word of all that has happened. He
arrived just a few minutes ago and took me so by surprise that I’ve
hardly got my breath to coming right yet. Do set down, all of you,
and while you’re eating, suppose you tell my boy just what has
happened. Then, if he isn’t too tired with traveling, I’m sure he’ll
be pleased to escort you back to V. M. ranch. Maybe though, he’d
rather be waitin’ till tomorrow.”
Benjy’s curiosity had been greatly aroused by this conversation
which suggested interesting adventure of some kind, and so as soon
as the young people were seated, he begged Babs to begin at the
beginning and tell him all that had happened. As the story
progressed the boy ceased eating and listened with eager intentness,
and when Babs finished speaking, Benjy exclaimed, “We will not wait
until tomorrow. With mother’s permission we will start south as soon
as I can get into my riding togs.”
It was still early morning when the four riders departed from the
group of white ranch buildings, the girls having bidden the kind
Mrs. Wilson an affectionate farewell, promising that, as soon as Tom
had been found, they would return and spend a week on the sheep
ranch.
The good woman looked with especial interest at the petite Barbara.
“Poor little lamb,” she was thinking with sudden tears in her eyes.
“Such a mite of a girl to be all alone in the world without a mother
and her poor brother lost. How proud that mother would have been had
she lived, for a sweeter, prettier, little girl never trod this
earth.” Then, as she returned indoors, having waved for the last
time to the riders, who were rapidly disappearing toward the
mountains, she recalled the tall-good-looking lad whom she had seen
riding close to Barbara’s side.
“I wish my boy might be worthy of a girl like little Barbara,” she
thought. “A fine pair they would make and what happiness ’twould be
for them both, and for me.” Then as she happened to glance into the
hat-rack mirror, she smiled a queer little smile with lips that were
quivering. “Well, now, Matilda Wilson,” she said aloud to her
reflection, “if you aren’t matchmaking, and it’s a thing you’ve
always said you wouldn’t do, for it’s just a interferin’ in other
folks’ lives. What’s more, the two of them are only children, still
a-going to school, but I guess mothers are all the same,” she added
as she went kitchenward, “first off we try to keep our boys just
little fellows and then, when all of a sudden we see that they’re
nearly young men, we begin to choose a girl we want them to marry,
but I’ll try to welcome whoever they choose just as I’d want some
other boy’s mother to welcome a girl of mine if I had one.” Then, as
the good woman poured boiling water over a great pan full of dishes,
her thoughts wandered, with equal pride, from Benjy to her older
son, Harry. “Whoever gets Hal for a husband,” she thought, “gets a
man to lean on who won’t prove a bending reed when trouble comes. He
hasn’t the nice, easy manner, maybe, that Benjy has, but Hal’s
honest and dependable. He never seemed to take to girls, though, so
maybe he won’t be one to marry, but, if he does, I wonder, now, who
it will be. I hope someone I’d like real well, but if ’tisn’t, I
won’t let that make any difference. The dear boy will never know it,
or the girl either.”
It almost seemed as if the mother heart knew instinctively that
Harry’s choice was to be someone of whom she could not really
approve, and yet, how could she know, for Harry had not even met the
girl who was to be the one dearest of all in his life.
It was nearly noon when the four riders drew near the walled-in
Papago village and Virginia suggested that they lunch with her dear
friend Winona, daughter of the Chief Grey Hawk.
Benjy was surprised to hear the proud declaration of friendship that
this white girl made for a maiden of a race so unlike her own, but
he said nothing, although he secretly wondered what manner of a maid
Winona might be.
Virginia had no trouble whatever in finding the almost hidden
entrance in the mountain wall that surrounded the Papago village for
she had carefully noted its exact relation to the clump of cactus on
her last visit, and so it was that Winona, happening to look up from
the little class which she had gathered about her in the shade of
the cliff, was both delighted and surprised to see the four riders
approaching her, three of whom she knew. The lad she had never seen
before.
Springing up, with the grace which was always in her every movement,
she approached the girls who had dismounted with outstretched hands,
and Benjy was amazed to note the real beauty of the dusky maiden
whose noble, intelligent face was aglow with the joy of so soon
again seeing her beloved Virginia.
The lad acknowledged his introduction to the Indian girl and heard
her saying, “You are the son of our nearest neighbor to the north?
We Papagoes often climb to the summit of the mountain overlooking
your ranch, Mr. Wilson, but we never descend on the other side. Our
pilgrimages always take us to the south it would seem.”
Then to Virginia she added, “It is high sun, so let us go to my home
and lunch together.” Turning to the group of unkempt little Indian
girls who still seated on the ground, were watching wide-eyed she
said something in their own tongue. The listeners concluded that it
was a dismissal of the class for the morning, and they were right,
for with joyful little cries such as delighted puppies might have
uttered, the Indian children sprang up, then to the utter amazement
of the watching lad, they surrounded the smiling Babs who, reaching
out her arms, gathered in as many of them as she could.
Benjy’s first impulse was to draw Barbara away from the embrace of
the “Indian brats,” but when that girl looked up at him, her pretty
flower face aglow, he realized that they weren’t wild, uncouth
creatures to her, but just little children who loved her, and who
were begging her in their own queer language to come and play with
them “Ring-around-a-rosie.”
When Winona had interpreted their request, Barbara exclaimed
merrily, “The rest of you may prepare the lunch. Until it is ready
I’ll romp with the kiddies.”
“May I play, too?” Benjy heard himself asking. Babs nodded gaily,
and while the three older girls went indoors to prepare a simple
meal of cold corn bread, milk and fruit, Barbara and Benjy skipped
about with the shouting little Indian children in a circle which was
ever widening because of the arrival of other youngsters who were
attracted from their dooryards by the sounds of merriment.
It was 2 o’clock before the riders, having said farewell to Winona
and to the children, left the walled-in village and started on the
long four-hours’ ride toward V. M.
Uncle Tex had seen them coming from afar. In fact, the old man had
gone every hour to the window to look toward the sand hills to see
if his Miss Virginia was returning. What joy there was in that
faithful heart when the girl whom he so loved leaped from her horse
and embraced him. “Dear Uncle Tex,” she said, “is there any news?
Tell me quickly what has happened? Did Malcolm come this way?”
The old man nodded. “Yes, Miss Virginia, dear, but Mister Malcolm
didn’t stop long, just to tell me what ’twas he planned doin’ and
bid me keep a watchout fo’ yo’. Ah’s been that anxious, Miss
Virginia, dearie, but Ah’ll feel better now, as yo’ are home again.”
Then when the girls had gone to their rooms, the old man said in a
low voice to Benjy; “Ah don’ want to worry the gals more’n need be,
but Ah’s powerful anxious about Malcolm and yo’ brother, for they
has gone to a mighty dangerous place. Ah knows the rustlers over the
border and thar’s nothin’ as they’d stop at, but shh! Here come the
gals. Make out as we was talkin’ of suthin’ else.” But Benjy’s
anxiety had been greatly increased and though he did talk of
something else, his thoughts were busily trying to contrive some way
that he might leave the girls and ride to his brother’s assistance.
The young people had reached the ranch in the late afternoon and
half an hour after their arrival Uncle Tex suddenly realized that it
was nearing the supper hour and that probably the newcomers would be
very hungry after their long hard ride and so he departed
kitchenward to prepare the evening repast.
He had been gone only a few minutes, however, when he returned to
the living-room, and, one glance at his face convinced the young
people he had something to tell them which had greatly excited him.
“Horsemen a comin’. Like ’tis three or four,” he said. “Yo’ all can
see them from the kitchen porch. Ah’s a hopin’ it’s Malcolm and the
rest, but they’re too far off yet to be tellin’.”
With rapidly beating hearts the young people hurried to the high
porch at the back of the house and Virginia gazed through the
powerful glasses.
“Uncle Tex is right,” she said. “I see several dark objects moving
in this direction and I am sure they are horsemen. Oh, how I do hope
Tom is with them. I haven’t slept, that is, not restfully, since I
knew that Tom was lost.”
Margaret, noting that Virginia looked pale and worn from days of
anxiety, slipped an arm about her friend and led her back to the
living-room.
“Let’s rest,” she said, “while Uncle Tex prepares supper. I’m sure
he would rather have us out of the kitchen.”
“I’ll stay and help!” Benjy told them. “I’m a fine cook, if I do say
it. I’ve had a lot of experience when in camp with the herders.”
The truth was that Benjy was eager to be alone with the old man that
he might learn from him what he really thought about the approach of
the riders.
When the girls were gone, the boy closed the door very softly that
it might not attract their attention nor arouse their curiosity,
then going to the range where the old man was replenishing the fire
he asked, “Uncle Tex, did you think you saw four horsemen?”
The old man shook his head. “No, Mista Benjy. I don’t honest believe
I did. Maybe ’twas though, and maybe ’twasn’t. Wall, we’ll soon
know, for if ’tis Malcolm, he’ll be here ’bout as soon as we have
supper ready.”
Never was a half hour passed in greater anxiety, but even when
supper was ready and waiting the horsemen did not appear.
“Perhaps after all they were bound for the Slater Ranch,” Virginia
said.
Disappointed and with a feeling of depression the young people
gathered about the table when suddenly they heard a shouting
without, and in another moment the front door burst open.