OLD PASTIMES
One Saturday afternoon several days later Jacqueline Kent, escaping from
her family, rode alone down to the great ranch house a mile or more from
the Rainbow lodge. She had not had an opportunity to visit the ranch
house since her arrival at her former home. Yet as a young girl she
always had enjoyed slipping off to the big ranch house unaccompanied by
the other Ranch Girls and usually without Jim Colter's knowledge or
consent. In the ranch house lived the ranchmen, or the cowboys who
looked after the livestock on the great place.
To-day as Jack rode up to the house only three or four of the ranchmen
were visible and they were standing on the rough log porch smoking and
talking to one another.
But the four sombreros were immediately lifted, and one of the men came
forward.
"Glad to see you, Lady Kent. Is there any order you wish to give, or any
message? Sorry the greater number of the fellows are not here at
present. This is Saturday afternoon, you see, and a half holiday. They
are off entertaining themselves, but we'll have the laugh on them when
we tell them that we have had a visit from you."
The Wyoming cowboy spoke with a courtesy and self-possession Jack had
often seen lacking among more distinguished persons. However, perhaps
"distinguished" is not the proper adjective, since her present companion
possessed, stored inside his kit, among the personal treasures in his
rough, pine-wood chamber a Distinguished Service Medal presented him by
the United States Government and a Croix de Guerre, the gift of a
grateful France.
Jack shook her head.
"No, I haven't a message or an order. I merely wanted to see the old
ranch house and be introduced to the men. But don't call me Lady Kent. I
am Mrs. Kent; now that I have returned to my own country a title strikes
me as an absurdity. It is hard enough to remember, these days, that I am
not Jacqueline Ralston; the ranch is so like it used to be when I was a
young girl. I am sorry not to find the other men, as I rode over this
afternoon knowing it was Saturday and hoping I might meet them. May I be
introduced to the three men who are here, if they don't mind?"
Jack spoke with a mixture of shyness and friendliness entirely natural
to her, but in the present circumstances, perhaps unusual.
The man to whom she was speaking was John Simmons, one of the assistant
managers of the Rainbow ranch to whom Jim Colter had introduced her
shortly after her arrival at her old home.
At a summons from him, the three other men rushed forward as if only
awaiting the opportunity, and leaning from her horse, holding the bridle
in her left hand, Jack shook hands cordially with her new acquaintances.
"More sport this, ma'am, than lassoing a wild colt!" one of the cowboys
drawled, as Jack smiled upon him. His three companions, after first
shouting with laughter, proceeded to frown upon the young fellow. He was
only a boy not yet twenty-one, from the Kentucky mountains, who
nevertheless had served with the American Expeditionary Forces in France
for eighteen months.
"But are the men practicing lassoing this afternoon? If they are,
please do take me to see what is going on. Is there to be a contest?"
Jack inquired. "I used to know something about the business myself, long
ago when I was a girl. I have even tried using the lasso, although I was
never a great success according to Jim Colter, who did his best to teach
me."
"If you'll wait until we get our horses," John Simmons replied.
A few moments later Jack and her four masculine companions were
galloping toward one of the farther boundaries of the Rainbow ranch.
After half an hour's steady riding they came upon from twenty to thirty
young ranchmen gathered about an open stretch of country. A third of the
men were employees of the Rainbow ranch, the others were from
neighboring places.
The men were grouped together, some of them on horseback, others at
present afoot. Not far away were a dozen western ponies still unbroken
either for riding or driving, but captured and brought to this
particular spot. Firmly tethered to stakes, they were now pawing the
earth, tossing their pretty heads in the air and kicking and bucking if
any one approached.
If the men were astonished by the appearance of Jacqueline Kent upon the
scene, they were sufficiently polite to make no mention of the fact. If
they exchanged glances of surprise or whispered comments, Jack was too
little self-conscious and too interested in the spectacle before her and
what was about to take place to consider her own position.
Apart from the group, facing a broad, flat prairie field were two of the
ranchmen, a few yards separating them. Over their right arms hung their
long lariats, coils of rope with a slip noose at the end.
A pony unloosed at a given signal would make a plunge for liberty. Then
the two men with the lassos would be after him. The pony has a fair
start in open field, and the race for freedom lies before him.
In her eager interest, scarcely realizing what she was doing, Jack made
her way to the front line of the group of spectators, the men giving way
to her partly from amusement and partly from courtesy. The larger number
of them had no personal acquaintance with her, yet she was well enough
known by reputation. One of the owners of the famous Rainbow ranch,
herself a Ranch girl until her marriage to an Englishman, the fact that
since her husband's death Jacqueline Ralston Kent had returned home with
the avowed intention of resuming her American citizenship was already
become a subject for gossip, for approval or disapproval among her
neighbors.
Staring at her secretly when the chance offered, there was in all
probability the usual difference of opinion concerning her among the
onlookers. But with one fact they would all have agreed: Lady Kent, or
Mrs. Kent, as she was said to prefer being called, looked younger than
any one who had heard her history could have thought possible.
In truth, this afternoon, in her usual informal fashion, Jack was
wearing an old corduroy riding habit which she had left behind her at
the Rainbow lodge several years before upon the occasion of her previous
visit home. It was of dust color, plainly made with a long, close
fitting coat and divided skirt. Her riding boots and gloves, however,
were of the softest and most beautiful English manufacture; her hat of
brown felt, with a broad brim.
This afternoon Jack's cheeks were a deep rose color, her eyes were
glowing, her full red lips were parted from excitement and pleasure as
she watched.
Away toward the outermost bounds rushed the little untamed colt, his
pursuers close on his track. Then a long rope swung through the air,
coil on coil unloosed, rose beautiful as bubbles afloat, with the noose
ready to capture and bring the pony to a standstill.
The first man is unsuccessful and the bystanders raise a shout of
derision. This changes to applause when the second man slips his noose
easily over the pony and gently draws it until the four protesting feet
are held fast.
Then the pony is brought back, again tied to its stake and a second
contest begins anew.
There was no cruelty in this sport, only a test of courage and skill,
since sooner or later the wild ponies must be captured and tamed and
taught to do their portion of the world's work.
Had she forgotten how exhilarating, how thrilling the lassoing was? Jack
felt her heart pounding, her blood coursing more swiftly in her veins as
she half stood in her saddle waving her applause at each victory.
"I suppose I should not dare attempt to find if I have altogether lost
my skill?" she asked of her companion, the assistant manager of the
Rainbow ranch, who had managed to keep near her all afternoon. "Would it
bore the men dreadfully to have me take part, do you think? Of course I
ought not to be willing to disgrace myself before so many people."
As a matter of fact, Jack was talking to herself, arguing with her own
desire, as well as asking the advice of her companion.
"I don't know. Do you realize that if one is out of practice roping is a
fairly dangerous sport, Mrs. Kent? I don't think I would undertake it,"
John Simmons protested.
But Jack found an unexpected ally.
Without her being aware of it, the young Kentuckian whom she had met for
the first time at the ranch house a short while before, had remained as
faithful an escort as the assistant manager of the ranch, and a more
devoted one, since John Simmons regarded the protection of Mrs. Kent
under the present circumstances as his duty, while with Billy Preston
there was no question of duty but of pleasure.
"You don't mean you've got the nerve to git into the present game, Mrs.
Kent?" he queried, his manner perfectly respectful, in spite of the
oddity of his speech. "I've been ridin' all my days, was pretty nigh
born on a horse, anyhow used to hang on when I couldn't 'a' been more'n
two or three years old, 'cause there wasn't no other way of gittin' up
or down our hills in them days. But this here lassoing game, I'm not on
to _it_ yet. Seems like it would be kind of worth while to see you go
after one of them colts and rope her and lead her in same as one of the
men. I can't come to believe a woman could ever manage it."
"Maybe I could not," Jack answered, but both her interest and vanity
were stimulated. It was a curious fact that she had so little personal
vanity in most things, and yet like a boy had a boy's ambition if not a
boy's vanity with regard to outdoor pastimes.
Disappearing a moment, Billy Preston rode up again soon after with one
of the other ranchmen, who happened to be in charge of the afternoon's
contest.
"If you would like to try your hand, Mrs. Kent, and are not afraid of
getting into trouble, why of course there is no objection. Any one of
the fellows will be glad of the chance to ride beside you and give you
the first throw."
Jack laughed, hesitated and weakened. As a matter of fact, she should
have known better than to make an exhibition of herself before a group
of strange young men; her instinct, her experience, her judgment, should
have taught her better. They did whisper their protest, it was Jack's
fault that she did not heed them, this being her particular failure in
life that she could not see that things which were not intrinsically
wrong in themselves were oftentimes wrong when done at the wrong time
and in the wrong place.
"You don't think I would be too great a bore? Then may I borrow some
one's horse? My own is not accustomed to the lassoing."
A short time after, actually unconscious of the unconventionality of her
behavior, Jacqueline Kent with the lariat swung over her arm, before an
audience of perhaps thirty or more amused and absorbed spectators, was
awaiting the moment to ride forward.
The soft prairie winds blew against her face, bringing their familiar
fragrances, the circle of mountains far away on the dim horizons had
their summits crowned with snow. About her, whinnying and neighing,
their slender nostrils quivering with interest in the sport, were the
western horses she had loved almost as she loved people from the time
she was little more than a baby. As for her audience, Jack really gave
it scarcely any thought so keyed was she to the business in hand. Had
she altogether forgotten her past prowess? A moment before she had not
been entirely truthful, for she had possessed an unusual skill in every
phase of western riding as a young girl, and especially skilful in what
she was about to undertake.
Yet at present the rope hung slack on her arm with an odd feeling of
unfamiliarity. An instant later Jack flung it in the air, saw it coil
and uncoil, heard the singing noise it made, and then drew it back into
place, feeling an added confidence.
The following instant she was after the pony, her companion riding a few
feet behind her, but making no effort with his own lasso.
Jack had asked for no quarter, yet was to be afforded every chance. Once
her rope rose, sailed forward and then dropped slack to the ground, the
pony cantering on ahead undisturbed, and uncaptured.
In her accustomed fashion laughing at her own failure, Jack settled more
firmly to her task, spurring her horse ahead.
A second time her rope shot forward and now the pony crumpled and went
down upon its forelegs, Jack drawing the lasso and holding it until her
companion took the rope from her hand.
Then she turned to ride back to her former place.
Now Jack felt herself blushing warmly and for the first time became
aware of her conspicuous position.
Her audience was laughing and shouting their surprised applause, hats
were being waved in the air. There in front of the others and on foot,
Jack beheld Jim Colter, and only a few times in her life could she
recall having seen his face reveal such an expression of disapproval.
"Making an exhibition of yourself, Jack?" he asked after she had
dismounted and stood beside him. Then he turned to one of his own
ranchmen. "Will you bring Mrs. Kent's horse back to the Rainbow lodge?
She will drive home with me."
Led away as if she were a disgraced school-girl, Jack suffered a number
of conflicting emotions--anger, rebellion, embarrassment, and
repentance and some amusement. Surely the time had arrived when her
former guardian should recognize that she was a woman and not a child.
Then Jack appreciated that she should have recognized the fact herself
and not made an exhibition of herself as Jim had just said.
"You won't tell the family what I have done, will you, please, Jim?"
Jack asked when they were a safe distance away. "I know I have behaved
badly and I suppose it does no good to say that I never appreciated the
fact until I had the first look at your face. I hate to have you angry,
Jim."
"You will be the talk of the countryside, Jacqueline Kent, and who knows
where else?" Jim Colter answered. "It's incredible that you did not
realize this. In less than an hour it will be on every tongue that Lady
Kent has returned to Wyoming to seek the society of the cowboys and
ranchmen and to engage in their rough sports, and please remember it
also will be reported that she seeks their companionship with no other
women present. Fine beginning, Jack."
"You are pretty hateful, Jim. I thought you used to tell me not to mind
idle gossip."
"I did, Jack, but not when the gossip was justified by your behavior. As
for my keeping your recent act a secret from the rest of the family, it
is not possible. Frieda and Professor Russell, Olive and Captain
MacDonnell, and your former acquaintance, Peter Stevens, are in the
motor car waiting for you, unfortunately so near as to be aware of your
proceedings. We motored over to Laramie this afternoon and asked Stevens
if he knew what steps you should take in order to resume your American
citizenship. He was not altogether sure and explained he thought it
would be wiser to look the question up. As he was free for the evening
Frieda invited him to motor to the ranch with us and meet you again.
Finding you had gone down to the ranch house, we went in search of you.
Ching Lee, who is the present cook at the ranch house, informed me you
had ridden over here with Simmons, which was in itself sufficiently
unconventional, Jack, without the unexpected addition I saw when I left
the motor and came to look for you."
"Good gracious, Frieda will never let me hear the last of this!" Jack
exclaimed. "It is rather too much to have an old acquaintance like
Peter Stevens, who never liked or approved of me even in my youth, as
another witness to my discomfiture. Perhaps you would prefer I return to
England after all, Jim! Can't you forgive me before I join the others;
I'll have sufficient disapproval to endure then without yours. I wonder
if I dare face Frieda. I'll never make a mistake like this again."
But for once Jim Colter refused to yield to Jack's pleading, being more
deeply disturbed by her action because of its consequent reaction upon
her than he had been in some time past. Beautiful, young and daring,
with unusual wealth, perhaps it might be wiser if Jack should marry
again, hard as it would be for him to give her up a second time.