THE OVERSEER OF THE RAINBOW RANCH
"OH," sighed Frieda sleepily, "isn't it too delicious to hear the
American language spoken once again!"
Ruth and the three other Ranch girls laughed almost as sleepily as
Frieda had spoken. They were on the night train coming up from
Folkestone to London, after having crossed the English channel from
Boulogne earlier in the afternoon. It was now the first week of June.
"Bravo, Frieda!" teased Jean. "One can always count on the younger Miss
Ralston's saying _the_ memorable thing as soon as the Rainbow Ranch
party arrives on a new soil. Who would have thought of the American
tongue being employed in the British Isles. I shall mention it to Frank
Kent as soon as we see him."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't be funny, Jean Bruce," the first speaker
protested, "for you know exactly what I mean. I suppose I should have
said the English language. But even if the English do speak deep down
in their throats and their voices are kind of choky and queer, at least
one can understand what they mean without consulting a dictionary or
trying to remember something one has learned at school. After having
heard nothing but Italian, German and French for over two months, I
could almost have hugged that porter who carried our bags off the boat."
Frieda had been resting her head on her chaperon's shoulder, but now
lifted it to continue her argument with Jean. However, Ruth drew her
back to her former place.
"Don't be a purist at this late date, Jean," Ruth murmured, shaking her
head in a kind of mild reproof. "I must confess I am feeling pretty much
as Frieda does. English or American, whichever you may prefer to call
it, after our continental wanderings, England does seem almost like
home."
And Ruth closed her eyes, she and Frieda both dropping off into a gentle
doze, while Olive and Jean talked in whispers, and Jack stared out of
the window into the darkness.
Since leaving Rome, the five young women had become proverbial Cook's
tourists. They had been traveling almost continuously, sight-seeing
during every possible hour, and allowing no time for loitering. For
after Rome had followed Florence, Venice and then Paris, until now they
were on their way to spend the fashionable season in London.
Such rapid journeying had not been Ruth's original idea, but somehow
after Jack's experience in Rome it had seemed best to keep her
constantly busy, allowing as little time as possible for reflection or
argument.
Faithful to her word, Jacqueline Ralston had not seen Captain Madden
since the afternoon of her talk with Ruth. At that time, it is true, she
had promised to wait only until an answer could arrive from her own and
Ruth's letters to her guardian, Jim Colter, but later she had made a
further promise to Jim.
Almost from the day of his arrival at the Rainbow Lodge, the overseer of
the ranch and afterwards the girls' devoted protector and friend, had
had a peculiar understanding of Jack's character. When she was a small
girl, insisting on some order of hers being obeyed or angered because it
had not been, Jim's "Steady, boss!" used always to help her control
herself. For reasonableness was ordinarily one of Jack's strongest
characteristics. Always she wished to be just and patient. Her
wilfulness came not so much from original sin as because she had had too
much her own way as a child and had had to depend too much on her own
wisdom.
Her mother had died when she was a very young girl and her father not so
many years after. Why, when Jacqueline Ralston was fourteen, virtually
she was, under Jim's guidance, the head of a thousand-acre ranch, and a
kind of mother to little Frieda and Jean.
So, though Jim Colter was more broken up by the news in Ruth's and
Jack's letters than he had been by anything since Ruth's refusal of his
love, he wrote to Jack with more tact than you could have expected from
a big, blunt fellow like Jim.
It took him almost one entire night, however, to write the letter.
For one thing, he did not say that he believed just what Ruth Drew had
written him of Captain Madden, nor did he mention Frank Kent's
information, which painted an even worse picture of Jack's friend. Nor
did he demand that Jack immediately break off her engagement or stop
writing Captain Madden. He simply suggested, as he had in the old days
at the ranch, that "the boss go slow" and would Jack agree not to see
Captain Madden and not to think of him more than she could help, until
Jim himself could find out something more about him? For of course Frank
Kent might be prejudiced and Ruth might be mistaken. Jim would see to
the whole matter himself, and Jack could surely count on his wanting to
give every man a square deal.
Jack had at once agreed to her guardian's request. She realized that
Jim's efforts must take time, as he was a long way from proper sources
of information. So she had meant to be and had been very patient,
trusting that Jim would never believe Captain Madden the kind of villain
that Frank Kent had declared him.
Jack was reflecting on this now as the lights from hundreds of small
houses along the line of the road blinked at her like so many friendly
eyes. Probably Jim would let her hear what conclusion he had reached
some time during their stay in England. She was rather dreading this
visit to London. For not once had she seen Frank Kent since their
interview in the hotel sitting room in Rome. Frank had come to say
good-bye the next day, as he was leaving that evening for home; but
Jack had excused herself from meeting him. Now there would be no way of
escaping, for Frank was Ruth's and the other girls' devoted friend, as
he had formerly been hers. They would want to be with him as much as
possible. Jack glanced at Olive. Had she not imagined several years ago
that Olive liked Frank better than any other young man of their
acquaintance? Certainly she had seemed to prefer him to Donald Harmon,
in spite of Don's devotion.
Well, for the sake of her family, she must conquer her own unfriendly
attitude. Candidly, she was sorry not to be able to like Frank herself
as she once had. How much they had used to talk of her first visit to
England! Then Frank had insisted that Ruth and the four Ranch girls were
to make a long visit at his country estate in Surrey. He wished them to
know his family intimately, as for several years he had been talking
continuously of his western friends. Jack regretted the loss of this
visit. Frank had made her almost love his beautiful English home in his
homesick days in the west, when he was ill and had chosen her for his
special confidante.
Just in time, a sigh that was about to escape into their compartment
was surreptitiously swallowed. Ruth was stirring and begging Frieda to
wake up. Olive and Jean were dragging down luggage from the racks
overhead. And where the twinkling lights outside had been hundreds, now
there were thousands. They must have reached the outskirts of London and
would soon be entering the Charing-Cross station.
"I believe," announced Jack, who had not spoken for the past half hour,
"that I have more real feeling about seeing London than any other city
in the world. I think we have something more in common than just the
language, baby." And she helped Frieda get into her traveling coat.
Perhaps Ruth had been asleep, for she appeared more than commonly
flurried. "I hope you girls understand just exactly what we are to do,"
she began nervously. "I declare, I don't consider that I shall ever make
a successful traveler, I do so hate the excitement and responsibility of
arriving in places. I wish now I had allowed Frank to meet us. He was
good enough to offer to come in from the country, but I declined."
"But, my beloved Ruth, what have we to do but get ourselves and our
belongings into cabs and drive to our hotel? I will manage if you prefer
it," Jack proposed.
Their train had stopped and a guard was opening the door. Several
porters soon had their bags and steamer rugs, and almost before they
were aware of what they were doing the five young women were following
the men down the station platform, Jack in advance, Ruth and Olive
together, and Jean and Frieda bringing up the rear.
Once inside the gate, however, the four girls were startled past speech
on seeing the usually dignified Jack stop for an instant, clasp her
hands tight together, then stare and with a cry rush forward and
positively fling herself into a tall man's arms.
Their silence and stupidity only lasted for an instant. Ruth was next to
run after Jack and seize the man's one disengaged hand.
"Oh, Jim, oh Mr. Colter, why didn't you tell us you were coming to
London? I never was so glad to see anyone before in my life!" And this
from the former dignified "school marm." Probably Ruth had never
forgotten her reserve so completely in her life as at this moment. Tears
of delight gathered unheeded in her eyes.
Jack and Ruth were both swept aside by the onslaught of Frieda, Jean and
Olive.
"How on earth did you decide to come? When did you come? Why did you
come?" Jean demanded all in one breath and then stopped to laugh at
herself.
Jim was staring at the little party critically. He looked more western
and unconventional than ever in his big, broad-brimmed, felt hat, his
loose fitting clothes, with the tan of his outdoor life still showing on
his strong, handsome face.
Jim's deeply blue eyes suddenly crinkled up at the corners in a way they
had when he wanted to laugh or to show any particular emotion.
"Well," he drawled in his slowest and most exaggerated cowboy fashion.
"I've been thinkin' lately that I was gittin' a bit tired of bein'
everlastingly left at the post. Seems like you been acquirin' so much
culture and clothes I was kind of afraid you might not want to know me
when you got back to the ranch. I ain't so sure about the culture, but
I'll capture the glad rags all right soon as you girls are able to go on
a shoppin' party or so with me." And Jim, glancing at an Englishman just
passing them, attired in a top hat and frock coat, pretended to wink.
No one was deceived in the least by his poor pretense of a joke. Jim was
really so much upset by the pleasure of seeing Ruth and the girls that
he was talking foolishness to cover his emotion.
Frieda's break, therefore, saved them all "Oh Jim, won't you look too
funny, dressed like a gentleman!" she exclaimed, and in mock wrath Jim
marched the five of them off to their cabs.