“JACK”
Under a tall linden tree shedding its yellowy perfumed blossoms about
her a young girl stood alone, waiting. She was pale and fragile and
leaned slightly on a cane; her hair was a deep bronze, the color of
copper in the sunlight, and her gray eyes, were now unusually dark with
emotion. She was evidently trying to appear less disturbed than she
felt, for her head was tilted back the least bit and her lips were held
close together; indeed, her whole attitude suggested a strong effort at
self-control.
“Jack!” Two figures came running across the lawn entirely unconscious of
the number of persons about them, and the girl in the costume of an
English shepherdess arrived at the desired goal first.
“Olive!” There are no adequate words that can be spoken on first meeting
after a long separation from one we love. And so for several moments the
two ranch girls clung together trying hard to keep back their tears,
while Jean, standing a little apart from them, pretended to laugh at
their emotion.
“But, Jack, you are well. Why didn’t you let us know? When did it
happen? There are so many things I want to ask you and yet I don’t care
whether you answer me or not, I am so glad you are here.” Olive said at
last.
“Perhaps it wasn’t quite fair of me, Olive, to have taken you so much by
surprise. Jean and Frieda had a few days of warning. But you see it was
like this,” Jack explained, leaning a little more heavily on her cane,
although neither Jean nor Olive noticed it. “When my operation was over
neither the surgeons nor anybody knew just at first whether or not I was
to get well. So of course Ruth did not wish to write and tell you until
we were certain. Then after a little while when I began to get stronger
I thought how I should love to surprise you by appearing out here at
Primrose Hall just as I have done to-day. Of course I did not mean to
put off coming until commencement day,” Jack continued apologetically,
“but somehow I did not get well quite as fast as I expected, until it
had to be now or never, so Ruth wrote Jean and Frieda to expect us this
morning but not to let you know, for we were afraid that seeing me would
somehow affect your speech.”
“It nearly finished it altogether,” Olive returned. “Just think how I
felt, Jack, when suddenly in the midst of my poor effort I saw you
standing straight up in the crowd looking just as you used to do.”
“I shouldn’t have stood up, Ruth tried her best to hide me, only I got
so excited.” Jack wavered a little. “Jean, of course I am perfectly
well, but would you mind getting me a chair; I am not accustomed to
standing so long.”
Feeling dreadfully ashamed of her thoughtlessness, Jean hurried off,
returning in another minute empty handed. But following close behind her
was a tall man in a costume that somehow looked a little out of place at
Primrose Hall. Also he walked with a freedom and power that did not
speak of city streets, neither did the deep tan of his skin. He was
carrying the big, comfortable chair for Jean.
“Oh, Jim, Mr. Colter, I don’t think it fair to give a person so many
surprises in one day!” Olive protested.
Jim Colter, the overseer of the Rainbow Ranch and the manager of the
Rainbow Mine, was engaged in helping Jack into her chair so that he
could not at once shake hands with Olive. But in another moment his big
hands closed over hers.
“Don’t talk about surprises, Miss Olive Van Mater,” he replied. “To
think I used to laugh at all the yarns in the story books, and here I
was raising up a real live heroine out at the Rainbow Ranch, whose
history makes most of the fiction tales look real pale! But ain’t it
great to see the boss herself again. I couldn’t believe she was getting
well when she wrote me; I was like that man from Missouri, ‘you had to
show me’.” And here Jim put his hand on top of Jack’s uncovered head.
“Jim Colter, where are you and Jack and everybody?” a new voice
demanded. “I promised to let Jack and Olive have just five minutes
together alone, and I have, but now I am not going to let my sister get
out of my sight again as long as I live!” Frieda had joined the little
group under the linden tree just as Jim was finishing his speech and
before Olive could answer him.
Now Olive turned again to Jack. “Do you know about everything, my
grandmother and all my queer history?” she asked.
[Illustration: “DON’T TALK ABOUT SURPRISES.”]
Jack nodded. “Yes, Olive, I do know,” she returned, “and I am awfully
glad and awfully sorry, for somehow it seems to make you belong to us
less than you used to do. Ruth told me as soon as she thought I was well
enough to hear. Didn’t you know that I have even had a letter from your
grandmother thanking me for rescuing you from a person by whom she had
been deceived, meaning old Laska, I suppose. But goodness gracious, who
are all those persons coming towards us now?”
Half a dozen persons were approaching, Madame Van Mater and Miss
Winthrop, Ruth Drew and Gerry Ferrows, and bringing up the end of the
line Jessica Hunt and Peter Drummond, smiling at one another and
apparently unconscious of every one else.
With great solemnity introductions were soon exchanged and then
immediately afterwards Gerry Ferrows slipped over next Olive.
“Miss Winthrop said I might be first to tell you that you have received
the Shakespeare prize,” she whispered. “The judges voted your speech the
most effective, and as you already had the best record for the year in
the Junior Shakespeare class, why of course the honors are yours and I
want to congratulate you.”
With entire good feeling Gerry put forth her hand toward her victorious
rival.
But Olive quickly clasped her own hands behind her. “I won’t be
congratulated, Gerry, and I won’t have a prize that I don’t deserve,”
she answered. “Tell me, please, who was the second choice?”
“I was, or at least the judges said so, though I entirely disagree with
them,” Gerry returned, blushing furiously, for Olive was almost forcibly
trying to drag her over to where Madame Van Mater and Miss Winthrop were
standing together.
“Yes, the Shakespeare prize is to be yours, Gerry,” Miss Winthrop at
once explained. “Olive wanted the pleasure of trying for it just to see
what she could do, but Madame Van Mater does not wish the prize given
her, and of course under the circumstances Olive does not wish it
herself.”
Ten minutes later Jean, Frieda, Olive and Gerry were peremptorily borne
away by a number of their classmates. Later on from a kind of throne on
one of the Primrose Hall verandas Jack and some of her friends witnessed
the pretty ceremony of the crowning of Olive as Queen of the day. For
several hours afterwards the dancing out on the lawn continued, Olive
raising a silver wand as a signal for each dance to begin and then in
royal fashion leading it off herself. Four or five times during the
afternoon Olive and Donald Harmon had been partners. Once, when Jack had
been watching them, she happened to turn to speak to Madame Van Mater,
who sat next her. But whatever she may have intended to say she did not,
but instead waited to study her companion’s expression.
There was no doubt that Madame Van Mater was looking distinctly pleased
at the sight of Olive and Donald together, for there was almost a smile
of satisfaction on her face. Watching her, Jack flushed, biting her
lips, then she leaned over and spoke:
“You are very good, Madame Van Mater, to be willing to have Olive go
home with us to our ranch this summer. I wonder if afterwards you will
do something that is kinder still?” she asked.
With distinct approval Madame Van Mater regarded Jack, for there was an
air of distinction and aristocracy about her that was very pleasing.
“It was Katherine Winthrop’s idea that I should not interfere with my
granddaughter’s liberty at present,” she replied; “but what more would
you have me to do?”
For answer Jack, who was growing weary, leaned back on her sofa cushions
looking out over the garden and fields to where afar off she could see
just a silver line marking the course of the Hudson River.
“I have been shut up inside a hospital for seven months, Madame Van
Mater,” she explained slowly, “and until my accident I don’t believe I
had ever been indoors twenty-four hours together in my life. And all the
time lately I have been thinking and longing for just two things. One to
see our beloved ranch again, to get on horseback and ride for miles and
miles over the prairie. And then—”
“And then?” old Madame Van Mater repeated with more interest than you
would believe she could show.
Jack laughed. “Why then I want to travel as far and as fast as I can.
You see, I have been shut in so long and some days I used to think
perhaps I should never see much more of the world than just four walls.”
Jack shuddered and then braced her shoulders in her old, determined way.
“But I am well now and, as the doctors don’t wish me to be in school, I
want you to promise to let Olive go to Europe with Jean and Frieda and
me next fall?”
“Europe?” Madame Van Mater reflected a moment. “An excellent idea! I
could have planned nothing better for Olive, for travel and experience
may give her just the ease and culture she needs. But who will look
after you?”
At this moment Ruth Drew slowly approached towards Jack and her
companion. She too was looking pale and worn from her long vigil of
watching, but she smiled as Jack, reaching forth, took tight hold of her
hand.
“Why Miss Drew will chaperon us, of course,” she answered. “She will not
go home with us this summer, but she has promised to go abroad
afterwards and to stay forever if we wish.”
Before Ruth could do more than make a conventional reply, Miss Winthrop
arriving persuaded her old friend to join her in saying farewell to her
guests.
So just for a few moments, as all their friends were walking about in
the great garden, Ruth and Jack were once more left alone. Not far off
they could see Jim Colter slowly approaching them with Jean and Frieda
holding on to his hands like little girls.
Jack looked first at Jim and then turned to the older girl at her side.
“I am so sorry, Ruth,” she said, “perhaps I was foolish, but I used to
hope in those long empty days at the hospital that when you and Jim saw
each other again you would forget what has separated you and only
remember you care for one another. Somehow when one has been very ill,
love seems the only thing that is really important.”
Ruth flushed until she looked like the old Ruth of those last weeks at
the ranch before Jim had made the tragic confession of his past fault to
her. “Jim does not care for me any more, Jack dear,” she whispered,
although no one was near enough to hear. “He has not spoken to me alone
since he arrived in New York, so I suppose he has not forgiven my
hardness and narrowness; besides, men forget love very easily.”
Jack shook her head and somehow her expression was happier than it had
been the moment before Ruth’s speech. “Jim does not forget,” she
answered, “he is the faithfulest, tenderest, kindest person in the
world.” And then the oldest ranch girl sighed. “Dear me, isn’t it the
horridest thing in the world to have to wait for the nice things to
happen?” she asked. “Of course, we all know, Ruth, that some day
everything will turn out for the best, but it is just that silly old
indefinite word some that makes the waiting so difficult.”
The next volume to be issued in the Ranch Girls’ Series will appear
under the title of “The Ranch Girls in Europe.” In this story the
histories of the four girls and their chaperon will be more fully
developed, for having put childhood and school life behind them, they
will enter that broader world of young womanhood, where romance stands
ever waiting round the corner.