THE SPELL OF THE MOON
The moon rose early and before dinner was over its pale crescent
appeared overhead.
The ranch girls were unusually restless. Jean especially was like a
will-o'-the-wisp, never still for an instant. "Do let's go out for a
walk; I feel as if I should stifle indoors," she begged.
"Isn't it too cool?" Ruth objected faintly. "Remember how great a change
always comes here at night, no matter how warm the days have been. I
should think the sudden coolness in the evening would be awfully trying
for travelers on the prairies."
Jean cast a tragic glance at their chaperon. "Oh, no, Cousin Ruth, I
assure you the nights on the plains are simply glorious! You just can't
imagine how wonderful it is in the summer time, after the hot days, to
feel the delicious cool breezes spring up and blow softly over you,
while you lie out in the darkness facing the stars," she ended
breathlessly.
Ruth laughed and slipped on her coat. "You talk like a tramp, Jean,
dear. When have you ever spent your days and nights out of doors?" she
queried.
"Oh, lots of times. When Jack and I were little girls uncle used to take
us camping with him," Jean answered indifferently, not daring to trust
herself to glance at the other girls.
The night was delicious and Jean's and Frieda's violet beds near Rainbow
Lodge were adding an unaccustomed fragrance to the desert air.
"Let's walk down to the rancho. I should like to ask Jim why he sent
those gypsies away so soon this afternoon, even before their horses had
time to rest," Jack proposed carelessly.
Jean and Jack each slipped a hand in Ruth's, as they set out for their
stroll, for she was far more timid than any one of the ranch girls; and
Olive and Frieda followed close behind. Near the rancho, where Jim and
the cowboys lived, a sound of singing and the low scrape of a fiddle,
greeted them.
Jack put her fingers to her lips and gave their familiar whistle, but
Jim did not answer; then Jean joined in, and the four girls finally
whistled in unison.
A man's figure appeared at the front door of the rancho. He was one of
the cowboys, who explained that Jim had disappeared immediately after
dinner without a word to anyone and no one knew where he had gone nor
when he meant to return.
On their way back to the Lodge Ruth happened to glance idly across one
of the near-by alfalfa fields and saw the figures of two men plainly
silhouetted against the horizon. One of them she recognized as Jim
Colter.
"There is Mr. Colter over there talking to some one, girls," Ruth
declared.
"Then let's walk over in his direction. Jim will soon see us coming and
join us," Jack suggested.
But Jim apparently did not see the girls approaching him, he was so
deeply engaged in conversation. Once he raised his arm as though he
meant to strike the man with him, but a moment later his arm dropped
limply at his side. Frieda laughed aloud, for the two black shadows
looked like huge dolls.
"I think we had better turn toward home, children," Ruth proposed
hurriedly. "I don't believe Mr. Colter is going to look toward us and I
don't think he will want to be interrupted if he does." But at this
moment the man with Jim slipped quietly away in the darkness and Jim
strode forward to Ruth and the ranch girls. It was impossible to see his
face clearly, but it was evident there was something most unusual in his
bearing--a subtle change that could be felt rather than seen.
"What are you doing, Miss Drew, wandering around at this hour of the
night with the girls? I am surprised at you," Jim said harshly. "There
is no telling what danger you may get into." Jim's voice was so hot with
anger and impatience that his audience was silent from sheer amazement.
It was impossible to believe that he was speaking to Ruth in such a
fashion, when always before he had treated her as a queen who could do
no wrong.
Ruth was glad of the darkness, for her cheeks were flushing and her
heart beat unevenly. For a moment the tears gathered in her eyes, but
they were blinked back indignantly. Why should she care because the
overseer of the ranch was rude to her? She had always believed that Jim
Colter was not a gentleman and now felt sure of it. But why did not
this conviction make her able to answer Jim as he deserved, and why
should she feel so unhappy? Ruth knew in her heart of hearts that she
was not being honest with herself. In her six months in the West she and
Jim had become good friends. There were other standards of life than
those of her school teaching days in Vermont. Pretend as she would, a
man could be a gentleman and yet wear strange clothes and use queer
English. But that Jim could fail in any other particular Ruth had not
believed possible until now.
Jean and Jack were as bewildered as their chaperon. For some time they
had suspected that Jim was more interested in Ruth than he would let
them know. Certainly the poor fellow was doing his best to improve his
English, for Jean had dived into his coat pocket one day in search of
the mail and had brought forth instead a discarded English grammar which
Jim had been studying surreptitiously.
"Why Jim, how silly you are!" Jack exclaimed at last to relieve the
painful silence. "Why do you mind our taking a walk to-night? You know
we often do, and we haven't been far. There is nothing that could
happen to us."
Frieda slipped her soft little hand inside Jim's big, strong one, and he
strode on ahead with her and Olive. "Don't you ever be too sure of not
getting into mischief, Jack Ralston," he called back.
"We only went to the rancho to look for you, Jim," Jack replied lightly.
"I wanted to ask you why you sent those gypsies away from the ranch so
soon this afternoon. I didn't care about the people and I hated the man,
but the poor horses were so tired I thought you would let them stay all
night so the horses could rest."
"Miss Ralston, am I running this ranch, or are you?" Jim demanded
angrily. "When I see a pack of tramps getting ready to take up their
residence with us, have I the right to send them away, or must I ask
your leave?" The overseer's tone was wrathful. He knew just how angry
Ruth was with him and now Jack would be equally offended; but fate had
played Jim Colter such a strange trick in the last few hours that he did
not care what he said or did.
Frieda's surprised "Oh!" was the first word spoken. A few seconds later
Jack faltered, "I am sure I beg your pardon, Jim; I didn't mean to
question your right to do whatever you think best." Jack's voice trailed
off brokenly and Ruth gave her an indignant and sympathetic squeeze.
Jean slipped around on the other side of Jack, and if Jim could have
been injured by burning glances he must have perished on the spot, for
Jean's brown eyes and Ruth's darted flashes of lightning at his broad
back.
At the Lodge door Jack slipped away from the others. Jim saw her start
and made a step toward her, but before he could speak she had vanished,
with Olive following her. Neither Ruth nor Jean would ask Jim to be
seated, and Frieda was too sleepy to think, yet Jim lingered calmly on
the porch. "Don't you think we had better go indoors? It's fairly cool,"
he said at length.
Ruth drew her coat closer about her and sank into a chair. "No, I don't
care to go in," she replied coldly. Jean took Frieda's hand and faced
Jim boldly. "Jim Colter, there is something the matter with you
to-night," she said. "I don't know what it is, but you were rude to
Cousin Ruth and horrid to Jack, and if I were in their places I wouldn't
speak to you."
The light from the big porch lantern shone full on Jim's strong,
sun-tanned face. Jean and Ruth were both surprised at the change in his
expression, for suddenly he looked like a repentant boy. "I say, Jean,
do tell Jack for me that I am awfully sorry I was such a beast to her
to-night," he pleaded. "Tell her I really didn't think for a minute that
she meant any interference by her question. I was a bit upset and I----"
Jean shook her head severely. "I shall not apologize to Jack for you,
Jim Colter, so you just needn't ask me," she answered cruelly. "You were
a wretch to her and you've hurt her feelings dreadfully. You can do your
own apologizing."
"But I won't see Jack again to-night, Jean, and I can't have her go to
bed thinking hardly of me," Jim expostulated.
Jean glanced up at him demurely. She was an artful young person and it
had just occurred to her that it might be a good idea to get Mr. Colter
under her thumb by doing him a favor. She had not been able to speak to
Ruth and Jim of her plan for the summer that evening, but she was only
awaiting an opportunity.
"If I make up with Jack for you, Jim, will you promise to listen to
something we have to tell you in the morning and not say it is utterly
impossible before you even _know_ what it is?" Jean demanded.
Jim groaned, though his eyes twinkled. "Go to bed, Jean Bruce. I'll not
make you any rash promise, for there is no telling what you mean to let
me in for," he answered.
Jean gave her head a toss. "Oh, very well, Jim; just as you like," she
agreed suavely. "Only I suppose you saw poor Jack was crying when she
went indoors, and she doesn't cry once in a thousand years, so I am sure
she will have a headache in the morning and not be able to speak to
you."
"I surrender, Jean," Jim replied meekly, holding up both hands. "I will
listen to anything you have to say in the morning if you will make my
peace with Jack to-night. I must have hurt her feelings if she was
crying, for I have seen her nearly kill herself a dozen times and never
shed a tear."
The last of Mr. Colter's speech was addressed to Miss Drew alone, for
Jean, having gotten her own way, had hurried Frieda off to bed.
Jim sank down comfortably on the porch steps and took off his big
Stetson, as though he did not mean to leave just yet. Ruth yawned
openly once or twice, but still her guest showed no intention of going.
She frowned at him coldly, but he was not looking at her.
Jim had sent an emissary to make his peace with Jack; but he had made no
pretense of apologizing to her, and every bit of Ruth's New England
pride was up in arms. Yet there was no doubt that Jim did look very
handsome as he lingered on the steps in the moonlight. Ruth tried to
convince herself that it was only his western costume that was
picturesque, the soft shirt with the loose handkerchief knotted at the
throat.
"I don't want you to think, Miss Drew, that Jack and I have ever
quarreled before about who was the boss of this ranch," Jim explained
regretfully. "To tell you the truth, I am a good deal worried about
something and it has turned me into a bear." Jim rose up, smiling gently
at Ruth. "I expect I had better be going," he said. "I am sorry I was
rude to you too to-night, but I will wear sackcloth and ashes with
pleasure to-morrow if you will only forgive me, and I can find them
anyways handy about the ranch." Jim laughed and bent over, suddenly
taking Ruth's hand in his to say good night, and she could but wonder if
it was because he was so big and strong that he held it in such a tight
grip.