JEAN, OLIVE AND FRIEDA
One afternoon about ten days later Jean Bruce, who was Mrs. Ralph
Merritt; Olive, who was Mrs. Bryan MacDonnell; and Frieda Ralston, the
wife of the eminent scientist, Professor Henry Tilford Russell, were
sitting with their sewing under one of the big trees not far from the
big house, built after the discovery of the gold mine on the Rainbow
ranch and christened the "Rainbow Castle."
Jack, as was often the case when they were thus quietly engaged, was not
with them, but was riding somewhere over the ranch with her son, Jimmie,
and Jeannette, one of the four new Ranch girls, to some spot where Jim
Colter was apt to be found, in order that he might ride back home with
them.
The other little girls were playing at no great distance away, except
little Peace, who was sitting in a small chair watching them.
"I do think Jack might have remained at home with us," Frieda remarked
petulantly. "Here I have traveled all the way from Chicago, closed my
home for a year, partly of course because the doctors thought it best
for Peace to be in the west and outdoors as much as possible, and
because Henry needed a change, but also because Jack was to be with us
at the old ranch and I had not seen her since Frank's death. And yet
nearly every afternoon off she goes riding like a whirlwind and
deserting the rest of us as if she cared nothing for our society. Jack
has changed a great deal I think, or else is more like she was as a girl
than as a married woman, now her husband's influence is removed. I
particularly wished her at home this afternoon because, as it is such a
perfect afternoon, some of the neighbors are sure to call. After Jack's
unfortunate performance the other afternoon I am convinced people are
talking about her, so I would like her to make a pleasant personal
impression upon some of the best people."
Leaning back in a big wicker chair, Jean Merritt put down her embroidery
for a moment.
"Oh, Jack will make a pleasant impression upon some people and not upon
others, as she used to do as a girl and has probably done all her life.
Of whatever else one may accuse Jack, no one can say that she has not a
forceful personality, so that people either like or dislike her. I often
think of the contrast between Jack and me, now we are women, although I
presume it was just as conspicuous when we were girls. I create no such
affection and no such antagonism as Jack does, but a kind of mild liking
or mild admiration as the case may be." Jean laughed, adding:
"I don't know whether I am glad or sorry, whether I envy Jack or feel
she should envy me. One thing I am sure of, I should never have turned
my back upon the title and position Jack could have continued to hold in
England for the simplicity of the old life here at the Rainbow ranch, at
least not for any great length of time. I believe I was always a little
envious of Jack's opportunities, the very things for which she cared so
little. I would like to have been Lady Kent, to have entertained in Kent
House, to have been a leader in English society. People talk of Ralph as
a successful engineer, but I wonder if they realize this means we have
never had a home, and I have simply dragged myself and the children
after him wherever he has been employed. Then, Ralph never has made the
money most persons believe he has; as a matter of fact, he is a much
more successful engineer than he is a business man. Not that I am
intending to complain," Jean said, hastily resuming her work, "but of
course one cannot help thinking of how strange life is and how often it
gives things to the people who don't wish for them and withholds from
those who do. I have wanted to be a prominent society woman all my life
and Jack has always had an aversion to such an existence, therefore the
opportunity has been hers, not mine."
"Jean, please do not speak in such a pessimistic fashion," Olive
interrupted. "The truth is that you have the social gift and Jack,
charming and brilliant as she is, has not. Of course I think this is
because she does not care to possess it. Jack loved her husband more
than the character of life she was obliged to live on his account,"
Olive continued in the tone which always created a calmer atmosphere in
any family discussion. "As for Jack's riding off and leaving us at home,
you must try and understand, Frieda dear, that Jack is possessed of
infinitely greater energy than the rest of us, and that all her days
when she has been troubled she has not kept still and brooded as most
girls and women do. At present, in spite of what she has been through,
she remains cheerful and agreeable whenever she is with us, and when she
is unhappy tries to wear herself out with physical exercise. I wonder if
any one of us would be as courageous in her present circumstances? As
for what Jack did the other afternoon, Frieda, of course you know I
agree with you that it was indiscreet of her, but suppose we do not
mention the fact any more."
Frieda's red lips closed in a finer line than one might have expected of
her dimpled countenance.
"One is obliged to continue to mention one's attitude on such matters to
Jack, else she forgets and does again exactly what she likes regardless
of consequences," Frieda replied with primness. "But of course, Olive, I
appreciate that you have never found any fault in Jack for as long as
you have known each other. I wonder sometimes how your husband feels,
except that he has pretty much the same point of view. But I have not
been disagreeable to Jack over her latest escapade except because of
its possible effect upon her. I am sure you understand this, Jean, if
Olive does not. Jack is planning to live in this neighborhood for a
number of years, until Jimmie should be taken home to England, therefore
it is most important that she should have a good reputation among our
neighbors and friends. I am sure I love Jack better than either of you
can, as she is my own sister. Even she realizes that it is for her sake
that I have been so annoyed."
"Certainly, Frieda," Jean Merritt returned soothingly, having always had
more influence upon the youngest of the original four Ranch girls than
the others even in their girlhood, "Olive does understand your attitude
and has said she agreed with you. But I also agree with Olive that we
must not scold Jack any more for this particular offence. I have never
seen Jim Colter so displeased with Jack before. After all, it was
nothing more than an indiscretion, which my wretch of a husband refuses
to take seriously and declares was rather sporting of Jack. He insists
Jack is one of the few persons in the world who dares to do what she
wishes when there is no harm in it and therefore other people must come
round to her way of thinking in the end. Now, if there is gossip,
Frieda, don't you think it might be wiser to have Jack's family take the
position that she has done nothing so extraordinary? Goodness, is that
one of our formidable neighbors approaching? Shall we go indoors to
enjoy her visit? I agree with you, Frieda, I wish Jack _had_ stayed at
home this afternoon. If she could have made a friend of Mrs. Senator
Marshall half the battle in this neighborhood would have been won. At
least we shall be able to find if what we have been fearing has come
true. If I remember the lady at all well, if she has been told of Jack's
indiscretion, we are sure to learn of it."
Before Jean had finished speaking she had arisen, laid her work aside
and was moving graciously forward to greet a woman who was driving up
the avenue toward the house.
She was driving a new electric machine beautifully upholstered in a
bright blue. Mrs. Marshall was herself dressed in a costume of almost
the same color, and was rather stout with a mass of sandy colored hair
turning gray, and a florid complexion. She was the second wife of a
United States senator.
"No, I should of course prefer to remain out of doors. You do look too
comfortable and delightful," she began in a manner which was perhaps a
little too cordial to be perfectly sincere. Then when she had shaken
hands with Frieda and Olive, she murmured: "So Lady Kent is not at home.
I am so sorry. You will understand if I say my visit is made especially
to her, as I hear she intends remaining among us for the present. But
there, I had forgotten. I was not to say Lady Kent, so my stepson
informed me. Strange for an American woman voluntarily to resign a
title! I am so little of the time in Wyoming and so much of the time in
Washington perhaps I fail to understand Mrs. Kent's more western point
of view. But as we are to be in Wyoming for some time now, in fact until
my husband is renominated and I presume re-elected to the Senate, he was
anxious I should meet Mrs. Kent, whom I believe he knew as a girl."
"You are very kind," Frieda murmured. "I am sure my sister will be
disappointed at not seeing you and will look forward to the pleasure a
little later. Indeed, I hope she may return before you leave."
But whatever Frieda's tone and manner, she was not so convinced that her
sister Jack would enjoy the acquaintance of their present visitor. Mrs.
Marshall was as unlike Jack as one could well imagine two persons being.
She had the reputation for being both a gossip and a snob and yet a
woman of whom for these very reasons a number of persons were afraid.
Personally Frieda felt a little afraid herself and preferred that she
should be their friend rather than enemy.
"Your sister seems to spend a great deal of her time on horseback since
her arrival in the neighborhood," Mrs. Marshall remarked in a casual
fashion. Nevertheless both Frieda and Olive experienced slight
sensations of discomfort, wishing that Jean Merritt, who was better able
to answer their guest, had not disappeared at this moment to ask one of
the maids to serve tea.
"Yes, my sister has been devoted to horseback riding all her life,"
Frieda answered a little too warmly. "She rode always as a girl and
never gave up riding after marrying and living in England."
"Yet she must have ridden in a very different fashion. One can scarcely
imagine an English lady riding with a lot of cowboys and ranchmen and
engaging in a lassoing contest with no other women present. My husband
and I were much amused when we heard the story. Mrs. Kent is known to be
such a western enthusiast there is a report that she may be intending to
enter a wild west show. However, I believe the commonest report of the
story is that Mrs. Kent is thinking of joining the movies. Well, it is
the most popular thing one can do these days!" And the older woman
laughed as if she only half believed her own suggestions. Nevertheless,
she could hardly have failed to realize that neither of her companions
were enjoying her remarks.
Frieda had flushed until her big blue eyes were half full of tears which
she was doing her best to restrain. Her voice shook during her reply,
yet she also endeavored to summon a smile.
"One is so glad to find something or some one to talk about in a small
community, isn't one?" she returned. "I should have supposed you would
have lost interest in gossip yourself, Mrs. Marshall, living so much of
your time in a city like Washington," Frieda added. "Of course you must
know personally that my sister is not interested in any of the
picturesque suggestions you seem to have had brought to your attention.
As a matter of fact, she has not yet entirely given up wearing mourning.
She has a rather large fortune and later must find some way of
interesting herself, although at present she appears content merely with
her own family. Yet I am sure after a time people must realize what her
coming into a community like this one may mean."
Then realizing that she was not making the situation any better, and
that their visitor was annoyed by the suggestion she had intended to
convey, that her sister, Mrs. Kent, might become a more important person
in the neighborhood than Mrs. Marshall herself, Frieda grew suddenly
silent. After all, why was Jack not at home to explain her own
eccentricity?
Now as Olive entered the conversation Frieda experienced a sensation of
relief. Olive's manner was so gentle and quiet one was seldom
antagonized by it.
"We are _so_ glad of what you have just told us, Mrs. Marshall," she
began. "I confess we have been interested to know whether Mrs. Kent's
action the other afternoon was of sufficient importance to interest her
neighbors and what story had been told concerning it. Mrs. Marshall, I
am sure, will be glad to hear what actually took place and tell other
people the exact truth. You are quite right; Mrs. Kent did ride over
with several of our ranchmen to watch a lassoing contest among the
cowboys. She used to take a deep interest in all western sports as a
girl and never has lost her interest apparently. Then I confess, to our
regret, Mrs. Kent did try to discover if she had forgotten her old-time
skill with a lasso. We were frightened, as she might so easily have been
injured. But nothing of the kind occurred and there is no more to the
story. Mrs. Kent will be sorry to disappoint her neighbors if they have
imagined a more interesting set of circumstances."
Returning at this instant, followed by a maid with tea, the conversation
altered. A short time after, without any further reference to Jacqueline
Kent except to repeat that she was sorry to have missed her, the visitor
withdrew.
However, the three former Ranch girls did not immediately go indoors. It
was still not five o'clock in the afternoon of a beautiful late
September day. Beyond the broad fields of wheat and oats were golden and
ripe for harvesting. Nearby the new little Ranch girls were still at
play, spinning around in a gay circle at the game of "drop the
hand-kerchief," little Peace in her chair looking on.
"It is just as I feared, Jack is going to be the talk of the
neighborhood before any one has even seen her or been introduced to her.
I presume the cowboys discuss her skill around their camp fires at night
as well as our richer neighbors; Mrs. Marshall probably spared us as
much of the gossip as possible," Frieda declared irritably.
But at this instant glancing up, she saw the figure of a woman on
horseback outlined against the blue horizon and at the same instant Jack
waved to her and came cantering in their direction.
No one, except an extremely stupid or self-absorbed person, ever beheld
Jacqueline Kent on horseback without a distinct sensation of pleasure.
Frieda, in spite of the many times she had seen her in such a position,
was not proof against the fascination. "How wonderfully Jack rides! No
wonder she loves it," she exclaimed. "I am glad she is at home at last!"
A few moments after, having cleared the gate of the farther field
without descending to open it, Jack rode swiftly up the avenue.
The eyes of Frieda, Olive and Jean remained fastened upon her.
Having added to the disapproval of her family by being seen in an old
and discarded riding habit upon the afternoon of her unfortunate
adventure, Jack had since appeared only in an extremely new and smart
riding costume made for her by her London tailor shortly before sailing
for the United States. It was of black cloth with a close fitting coat
and riding trousers. This afternoon she also wore black riding boots of
soft leather and a little derby hat. Her hair in the yellow afternoon
light was much the same color as the ripened wheat.
So intent was the small audience upon watching Jack's return and so
intent were the new little Ranch girls upon their game, that no one saw
a small figure rise suddenly from her chair, clap her hands together and
then dart across the little space of grass toward the rapidly galloping
horse. A moment later, and she was directly in the horse's path, not
three feet away.
There the baby stood stock still, her little white frock fluttering in
the wind, her yellow curls flying, her face upturned, frightened now and
quite still. The horse seemed to rear so high above her head that she
caught no vision of the loved figure she had run forward to greet.
Her mother saw her, and Olive and Jean, and they were not many yards
away, and also the other children, who suddenly had quit their play and
remained standing in a long line, still holding one another's hands,
breathless, intent, terrified, unable in the surprise and terror of the
moment to offer aid.
"Baby!" Frieda called and darted forward, yet knowing instinctively she
could not be in time. Olive and Jean would have run after her except for
a swift call from Jack.
They saw Jack hold her bridle easily in one hand, and then lean over
from her saddle until her arm could sweep the ground, when with a single
swift motion she lifted little Peace into the saddle, as she drew her
horse to a standstill.
"Don't frighten Peace, please, Frieda," she said, as she gave the little
girl safe and smiling and pleased with her adventure into Frieda's
outstretched arms.
[Illustration: WITH A SINGLE SWIFT MOTION SHE LIFTED LITTLE PEACE INTO
THE SADDLE]
"And to think, Jack dear," Frieda murmured, still tearful half an hour
afterwards although Peace was safe in bed, "that I sometimes have
criticized you for keeping on with your riding when you might be doing
such stupid indoor things as Jean and Olive and I enjoy. Had you been
one of us, why, Peace might have been killed or worse this afternoon. I
never saw any one do anything so quickly or so skilfully, Jack, as you
lifted little Peace out of danger. Why, I--I had forgotten that you used
to be able long ago to lean from your horse and pick up anything you
wished from the ground. One would not have supposed that such an
accomplishment could be so valuable as actually to save my baby's life.
Say you forgive me for being so hateful about that other thing for the
past ten days."
Jack's arm was about her sister as they walked up and down before the
house waiting for Professor Russell's return from the small hut situated
about a mile away where he spent the greater part of each day engaged in
scientific investigations.
"But, Frieda dear, I was to blame and I am sorry," Jack replied. "Jim
has not forgiven me yet. I was to blame this afternoon too, for I should
not have ridden up to the house so swiftly when I knew the children
were playing near. But I grew suddenly lonely for you and Olive and Jean
and left Jimmie and Jeannette with Jim and rode quickly home to find
you. Here comes your husband, I'll leave you and go home to the lodge.
No, I don't want any one to come with me and I won't see you again this
evening. Good-night."