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The Ranch Girls Series
THE RANCH GIRLS' POT OF GOLD
* * * * * *
BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES
THE RANCH GIRLS AT RAINBOW LODGE
THE RANCH GIRLS' POT OF GOLD
THE RANCH GIRLS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RANCH GIRLS IN EUROPE
THE RANCH GIRLS AT HOME AGAIN
THE RANCH GIRLS AND THEIR GREAT ADVENTURE
THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES
THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN THE BRITISH TRENCHES
THE RED CROSS GIRLS ON THE FRENCH FIRING LINE
THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN BELGIUM
THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH THE RUSSIAN ARMY
THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH THE ITALIAN ARMY
THE RED CROSS GIRLS UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SUNRISE HILL
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AMID THE SNOWS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE OUTSIDE WORLD
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ACROSS THE SEA
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' CAREERS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN AFTER YEARS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE DESERT
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT THE END OF THE TRAIL
* * * * * *
[Illustration: THE OLD WOMAN MUMBLED A VERSE OF POETRY]
The Ranch Girls Series
THE RANCH GIRLS' POT OF GOLD
by
MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Illustrated by Hugh A. Bodine
The John C. Winston Company
Philadelphia
Copyright, 1912, by
The John C. Winston Company
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE GYPSY CARAVAN 9
II. THE SPELL OF THE MOON 26
III. CAUGHT IN THE TRAP 37
IV. THE WAY TO ARCADY 46
V. MEETING WITH NEW PEOPLE 61
VI. A CURIOUS RESEMBLANCE 76
VII. "A LITTLE HOUSE ON WHEELS" 87
VIII. ALONG THE ROAD 102
IX. "MINER'S FOLLY" 115
X. BY THE WAYSIDE TENT 130
XI. "WHERE'S JACK?" 141
XII. CARLOS MAKES GOOD 152
XIII. ENTERING WONDERLAND 163
XIV. MR. DRUMMOND AND RALPH CHANGE PLACES 174
XV. ELIZABETH'S STRANGE CONFESSION 182
XVI. "OLD FAITHFUL" 196
XVII. THE LANGUAGE OF THE FLOWERS 205
XVIII. "GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN" 216
XIX. THE SUSPENSE AND WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARDS 229
XX. FRANK AND JACK 242
XXI. "MY WAY'S FOR LOVE" 258
XXII. A PARTY AT THE RANCHO 268
XXIII. "THEIR LAST RIDE TOGETHER" 277
XXIV. FAREWELL TO THE RAINBOW RANCH 287
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE OLD WOMAN MUMBLED A VERSE OF POETRY _Frontispiece_
PAGE
"I DECLARE, I FEEL LIKE I HADN'T SEEN YOU IN A
HUNDRED YEARS!" 53
"HOW COULD YOU, MISS BRUCE?" RALPH DEMANDED
INDIGNANTLY 144
"THERE IS GOLD IN RAINBOW CREEK, JACK!" 253
The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold
CHAPTER I
THE GYPSY CARAVAN
"A hundred dollars a month--it's a fortune!" Jean Bruce exclaimed gayly,
pirouetting about on her tip-toes in front of a huge Japanese umbrella
fastened upright in the ground in the middle of the orchard at the
Rainbow Ranch.
Jacqueline Ralston gazed half convinced at the sheet of paper she held
in her hand. She was sitting in Turkish fashion on the grass just
outside the umbrella and, as her Mexican hat had been flung aside, the
spring sun shone directly down on the bright bronze of her hair and
warmed to a richer rose the brilliant color in her cheeks. The past few
months had wrought little change in her, save that the lifting of the
clouds from about her home had left her more radiant and full of purpose
than ever before.
"I don't know whether it is an opportunity or not," she answered
dreamily. "What do you think, dears?" she inquired of a young woman who
was watching the steam pour forth from a brass teakettle, and of a
quiet, dark-haired girl who sat near by contentedly embroidering a
square of linen.
Olive hesitated for a moment, looking toward their chaperon, but Ruth
was too busy with the teakettle--which had chosen that moment to boil
over--to have time to reply. "I know a hundred dollars a month does
sound like a great deal of money," Olive agreed slowly, "but I wonder
what the people are like who wish to rent our ranch. And where can we go
if we give up our house to them?"
Jack shook her head uncertainly, but Jean flung out both arms in an
imploring gesture, and a beseeching expression softened her merry brown
eyes. "Where could we go? Why, haven't we the whole round world to
choose from?" she demanded pleadingly. "And don't the very breezes call
us to follow them in search of adventure? Oh, I can feel the spring
_Wanderlust_ in my blood this very minute. Cousin Ruth, Jack, Olive,
please agree with me or I can't bear it. Surely you must see that this
letter from Mrs. Post's friends, who want Rainbow Lodge for the summer,
is just heaven sent. We were dying to take a trip and now we can go
everywhere--or just somewhere, I don't care where, because we have never
been anywhere in our lives." And Jean paused only because she was out of
breath and not because of the laughter that greeted her peculiar form of
eloquence.
The three ranch girls and their chaperon, Ruth Drew, were having an
impromptu tea party all to themselves in their miniature orchard on a
lovely May day. Their fruit trees were not yet large enough for shade.
Indeed, at the present time they looked like glorified bouquets set on
tall, slender stalks, their branches were so small, so fragrant and so
covered with delicate fairylike blossoms. The cherry and plum trees were
in full bloom and the pink buds on the apple trees were slowly
uncurling, while on every side the level prairie fields were carpeted
with new grass that rippled softly under the low winds like the surface
of a quiet sea.
"Girls, I don't want to be a wet blanket and I am afraid you will think
_I am_ a discouraging person," Ruth interposed, passing around her
teacups, "but I don't believe we could do much traveling on a hundred
dollars a month. I am awfully sorry, Jean, to disappoint you, but you
must remember that railroad journeys are terribly expensive and we would
have to board somewhere when we were not on trains."
"All right, Ruth," Jack assented, looking half relieved and half
disappointed, as she folded up her letter. "I'll write to Mr. and Mrs.
Harmon to-night and refuse their offer for the 'Lodge.'"
Jean sighed as though she had no further joy in living and Ruth shook
her head. "No, Jack, don't write your letter quite yet," she advised.
"Let's talk things over again before we finally decide. But I do wish
Frieda would come with the cookies; it seems so hateful to have tea
without her. I can't imagine what has kept her so long."
Tearing across the yard that divided the Lodge from the ranch orchard
came a round, chubby girl, with her blond pigtails flying straight out
behind her and her cheeks a bright red from excitement. She had a big
dish of gingercakes in her hands, but as she ran she scattered them
behind her like little "Hop o' My Thumb" did his poor crumbs of bread.
"Oh, do come to the house quick! The most loveliest thing has happened!"
she cried fervently. "A band of gypsies was traveling across the plains
and they have stopped right at our house, and say that if we will give
them some food and water they will tell all our fortunes. There is a man
and a girl and an old woman and the cunningest baby!"
Frieda flung her small self on Jean, and without another word the two
girls rushed off toward the house, while Ruth and Jack and Olive
gathered up the despised tea things and followed them more slowly,
munching the long desired cookies.
Drawn up near the back porch at Rainbow Lodge was a rickety old
canvas-top wagon pulled by two ancient and sadly dilapidated horses, and
seated in state at a table not far away were Frieda's band of gypsies
being generously fed by Aunt Ellen.
Ruth and Olive walked toward their unexpected visitors, but Jack in her
usual impetuous fashion ran up to the horses and began to take off their
harness. "Uncle Zack, please come here at once; these poor horses are
nearly dead," she called quickly. "Some one will have to help me. I am
afraid I can't look after them both, for they can scarcely stand up."
But Uncle Zack, the old colored servant of the ranch house, was not
within sound of Jack's voice and the girls were too much interested in
the gypsies to heed her.
The old horses had great sagging places under their hips; the muscles
beneath their worn coats quivered and jerked with fatigue; their eyes
were bloodshot and their breath came in long, quivering sighs.
Jacqueline Ralston was a ranch girl who had been brought up to love
horses since she was a tiny baby, and she cared for them so intensely
that nothing stirred her like the sight of them ill used. Now, heedless
of all else, she softly patted and talked to the two horses, lifting off
a part of their ragged harness; then suddenly turning, discovered their
gypsy driver calmly eating a comfortable dinner. Jack's eyes flashed and
the hot blood surged to her cheeks.
"Come see to your horses," she ordered sharply. "What do you mean by
resting and eating while your horses suffer? Even a tenderfoot knows
better than to be so stupid and good for nothing. I thought a gypsy had
more sense." The young girl turned away her flushed face as she finished
speaking, for a lump was rising in her throat, and she had seen the
gypsy man get up from the table and start over toward her with his
guitar swung jauntily over his shoulder and a supercilious smile on his
lips.
"Don't worry about my horses, young lady," he remarked indifferently.
"If they were worth anything I would look after them better, but they
are worn-out old brutes and won't be fit for use much longer." Without
any excuse the man gave the nearer horse a brutal kick that made it
stagger with pain, and struck the other with the palm of his hand.
"By the way," he remarked, "I'm not a gypsy, as you suppose, though I
happen to be married to one and running this particular outfit."
Jack saw everything spin around for half a second--she was so angry with
the man for his cruelty--but she managed to speak with dignity. "If you
do another unkind thing to your horses I shall ask our overseer, Jim
Colter, to make you leave our ranch," she declared firmly. "Of course I
see, now you are nearer, that you are not a gypsy." Jack frowned,
puzzled by the tramp's unusual appearance. His hair was light brown, his
eyes blue and his features refined and delicate, although his expression
was crafty and his mouth weak and selfish. Oddly enough, in spite of his
unkempt clothing, it was plain he had been born a gentleman.
Abruptly changing his careless manner the man took off his hat to Jack.
"I am sorry to have offended you," he remarked politely. "I ought to
know better. Is Jim Colter the overseer of your ranch? I have heard of
him often, but in all the years I have spent in this country I have
never met him. I came west to locate a gold mine, but instead of my
finding one these gypsy women found me starving in the desert and took
care of me. So I married the girl and we travel around in their wagon;
it's easier than walking. I have been prospecting for gold in this
region lately. Would you let me have a look over your ranch before I
move on? You may be grazing your cattle above a gold mine this
minute--it's what the old man did who once owned Cripple Creek."
The man's eyes glowed with the peculiar fanatical glow of the
gold-seeker and Jack _felt_ a thrill of excitement as she watched him,
but she shook her head sensibly. And at this moment Jim Colter appeared
strolling along the path toward them from the stables back of the Lodge.
His hands were in his pockets and he was whistling cheerfully, with an
inquiring expression in his friendly blue eyes. The newcomer did not see
him.
"Want any help with your animals, stranger?" Jim inquired hospitably, as
he came over to where Jack and her companion were standing.
The other man swung slowly around at the sound of a new voice.
Without replying he stared; stared at Jim so long that Jack wondered
what had happened to keep him from answering. Then she glanced at
Jim--he was behaving as strangely as their visitor; his jaw had dropped
and his eyes darkened, and if it had been anybody but Jim Colter, Jack
might have thought the overseer of the Rainbow Ranch frightened.
"Is your name Jim Colter?" the new man inquired curiously. "I think I
have seen you before, yet I don't recollect your name. I'm Joe Dawson;
'Gypsy Joe' is what I'm called out here. Funny name for a man who once
hailed from one of the first families in 'Ole Virginie.'"
Jim picked up a bucket of water from the ground, in order to gain time.
"Suppose you join the other girls now, Jack," he suggested mildly. "It
may be this stranger and I have met before and will have a few questions
to ask one another. Anyhow, I think the girls need you with them."
Jack moved off obediently and discovered Olive having her fortune told.
She was kneeling before the old gypsy with one hand resting in the
woman's wrinkled palm.
"You are not one of these little missies. You are of another brood and
another fortune," the old crone announced calmly. "I don't say I am able
to place you, but you don't rightly belong here."
Olive's cheeks flushed indignantly and she dropped her lids quickly over
her surprised eyes. "I don't see why you think I am different from the
others. I _am_ one of the ranch girls," she exclaimed earnestly.
The fortune teller smiled and lightly ran one aged finger around the
line of Olive's delicately pointed chin and about her long,
almond-shaped black eyes. "I don't _think_ you are different, child; I
_know_ it," she replied sternly. "It ain't no use to try to deceive me.
I can see, too, that life ain't going to be a bed of roses for you. Some
one is standing near us right now who is going to exercise a strong
influence over your fate. Many times she will help you to happiness, but
once she will cause you great sorrow. She may never know it, for you
will never tell her, but remember--I warn you--'years alone will wipe
away your tears.'"
The gypsy lifted her small, black, haunting eyes with as calm an
assurance as though she had been one of the three ancient sisters of
fate and stared long and imperiously at Jacqueline Ralston. Jack bit her
lips and returned the woman's gaze steadfastly.
"If you mean that I shall ever bring sorrow upon my friend, you are very
much mistaken," she protested defiantly, putting her arm lovingly about
Olive. "If you intend to make up such hateful and untrue stories you
shan't tell any more of her fortune."
But the gypsy gave not the slightest heed to Jack's remonstrance; making
a weird sign across the palm of Olive's hand the old woman mumbled a
verse of poetry, the girls straining forward to hear:
"'Criss, cross, shadow and loss;
Shrouded in mystery,
The first of your history!
Here there is light, there dark once again.
Happiness comes, but after it pain--
Yet your name shall be found and a fortune untold
Shall make for your feet a rich pathway of gold.'"
Olive smiled tremulously, drawing away her hand. "I don't believe I care
to have my future foretold in poetry," she protested. "Won't you tell
Miss Ralston hers? Perhaps you may give her a better fate."
The fortune teller did not like the scornful curve to Jack's full red
lips nor the doubting, half-amused expression of her eyes. The woman had
recognized at once that this girl was not to be so easily influenced as
gentle Olive, nor as merry Jean, nor as the littlest maiden with the two
blond pigtails. She was even more difficult than the oldest girl of them
all, for Ruth had made no effort to conceal her surprise at the queer
jumble of truth and fiction that had come forth in the account of
Olive's history.
Obediently Jack put forth her strong, shapely hand, but the woman did
not touch it, although her shrewd, half-closed eyes never wandered from
the girl's face.
"Be on your guard. You don't wish other people to do anything for you,"
the gypsy spoke low and warningly. "I know you like to help them, but
you are too proud to want to be helped. Some day something you little
expect is going to happen to you that will make you have to depend on
other people for a long, long time." All at once the woman's harsh
manner changed and she gazed at her listener more kindly. "You are fond
of this ranch and would like to spend your whole life on it, wouldn't
you?" she questioned keenly.
Silently Jack bowed her head.
"You won't," the fortune teller went on solemnly; "you will travel over
a great part of the world and you may settle in a strange land. Anyhow,
I can see that you'll marry and have sons and----"
Jack blushed resentfully and the gypsy's beady eyes twinkled, for she
was a good enough judge of character to guess the elder Miss Ralston's
views on matrimony, merely by observing her pride and reserve. It was
true that Jack had vowed to the other girls a hundred times that nothing
and nobody could induce _her_ to marry; _she_ had more important things
to do.
"Dear me, granny, haven't you something pleasant to tell somebody?"
Jean interposed, coming forward for her turn in the game.
The gypsy frowned severely. "I can tell only the truth," she protested
in an important tone. "But you need not worry yet about your future,
young lady, for you don't take things so seriously as these other two
girls. Life is more of a joke to you; only see that you don't carry your
joking too far."
Jean pouted, jerking away her hand, and Ruth, who was particularly fond
of Jean, interrupted the old crone. "Tell our smallest girl's future
now, auntie; she is sure to have only good luck," she interceded.
The gammer smiled. Frieda had taken the gypsy girl's baby and was
cuddling it like a wax doll, its tiny birdlike face contrasting oddly
with her pretty plumpness.
"The youngest lady shall have a fortune like an apple pie, it shall be
so trim and neat and nice and good to look at and to taste, with plenty
of sugar and kisses in it," the old woman chuckled good naturedly,
glancing kindly at happy Frieda.
Ruth turned quickly around and smiled. At this moment Jim Colter came
stalking across the yard toward them, with the strange gypsy at his
heels, and Ruth supposed he wished to hear the girls' fortunes. But Jim
did not appear interested and looked at Ruth so queerly that she was
afraid he was angry.
"Shall I tell you your future now, Miss?" the gypsy woman demanded
slyly, talking to Ruth, but discerning all of Jim's six feet of shyness
and troubled emotion at the same time. "I can see a great change coming
in your life, Miss," the fortune teller went on quickly. "You can feel
it stirring in you now, but you won't give up to it. You are going to
take a long trip and you are going to----"
Whatever the gypsy meant to say Ruth did not wish to hear, so she
remarked quickly: "Please don't tell me anything of my fate. I--I don't
like to have my fortune told," she explained, blushing furiously. She
felt angry with herself for her absurdity, as Jim was gazing directly at
her across the circle of listening girls.
"I believe you have told us all quite enough of our futures, granny,"
Ruth announced. "We are going to leave you to rest," and she beckoned to
the ranch girls to follow her indoors.
Jim watched them until the last fluttering petticoat disappeared. Then
he and "Gypsy Joe" walked away from the house together. A few hours
later, just before dusk, the ranch girls were in the big living room of
the Lodge, waiting for Ruth to come in and for Aunt Ellen to bring in
supper, when there was a sound of wagon wheels along the road that led
away from the house to the trail across the ranch. Jean danced to the
open window and signaled to Jack.
The gypsy caravan was rolling slowly toward the distant plains. A
delicate purple mist hung over the world and the wagon seemed to float
along in the soft evening air; a single star shone over the travelers.
Jean pinched Jack's arm until she gave a cry of pain. "What is it,
Jean?" Jack inquired anxiously, for she could see that her cousin's
expression was curiously grave and that her eyes were shining and her
lips trembling with eagerness.
"Oh, Olive, Frieda, do come here and look," Jean called pleadingly.
Olive slipped her hand in Jack's and Frieda put her arm about Jean's
waist while the four girls stood gazing wonderingly at the moving wagon,
toward which Jean was pointing with a prophetic finger.
"Girls, there goes our way to see the world," Jean murmured quietly.
"There is the kind of private car I would rather ride in than any other
in the world, and we own one already."
"What is the matter, Jean; what are you talking about?" Jack queried
quickly, for she could see that Jean was not joking, but was deeply in
earnest.
"I mean that if we rent Rainbow Lodge this summer we can travel about in
a caravan," Jean returned dreamily. "We can drive over miles and miles
of our beautiful prairies and see the great canyons and forests; and may
even be able to go as far as the Yellowstone Park. You know we have the
wagon and plenty of horses already, and with a hundred dollars a
month--why, we can feed on nectar and ambrosia! Wouldn't you just adore
a caravan trip, girls?" She paused wistfully.
"O Jean!" the three other ranch girls gasped in happy chorus as the full
rapture of her suggestion swept over them.
"Shsh!" That young lady put a warning finger to her lips. "Here comes
Cousin Ruth; don't say anything to her yet. Goodness only knows how we
will be able to make her and Jim agree to our beautiful plan!"