_HW_ RANCH
The drive through the cool of the early evening to the ranch, which lay
only three miles from the trading post, fully awakened and refreshed
Bess. She was longing to ask the reticent man by her side a hundred
questions regarding the injured one, but she refrained, intuitively
feeling that she would be touching a heart-wound. The slight hesitancy
of the lariat, the sudden outburst of passion, revealed to her woman’s
instinct the secret hatred of Henry West, which all his sympathy and
tenderness afterward could not hide.
At last he spoke: “Mother will not have dinner until we return. You
must be nearly famished, for Mrs. White told me that you had fallen
asleep before she could offer you any refreshment. I cannot tell you
how sorry I am that you should have experienced such an ordeal. Mr.
Da—— the Agent,” he said, with a marked effort at composure, “has
been made comfortable, and when I left the ranch to come after you,
mother said he had fallen asleep. My mother, years ago, had a thorough
course of training in professional nursing, and the knowledge has been
invaluable to her. The doctors at the agency or at the mission are
so far away that in emergency cases she is always sought. I sent one
of the men after a physician, but he can do no more than mother has
already done.”
“There is my home, Miss Fletcher,” he continued, as they came in sight
of the ranch. “How I love it! I hope you may be contented and happy as
long as it is to be your home and James’.” True hospitality sounded in
his deep voice and shone from his now grave yet friendly eyes.
“Oh! Thank you, Mr. West. Anyone who could not find both happiness and
contentment amid all this beauty would be very hard to please. It will
be the first real home I have ever known—nearly all my life has been
spent at school. Dear me! I expect you think I should have unlimited
knowledge,” she added lightly.
She gazed with interest about her. There stood the large, square,
white house, with its wide porches and many windows, within a stone’s
throw of the deep, blue water of Flathead Lake. Up the hill a short
distance from the house in a clump of willows was a magnificent spring,
whose cool, crystal water was made to flow down to the house and into
the corral. Great barns, hay sheds and granaries were back of the
house, and comfortable poultry houses and roomy ice-houses were also
to be seen. Even a blacksmith shop with its glowing fire caught Bess’
interested gaze, and she wondered at the completeness of the ranch
and marveled at the brains that could manage such a large and varied
establishment. Quite near the house stood a teepee, and Bess could not
repress a smile as Henry West told her what it was and that the old
Indian and his wife who assisted his mother could not be induced to
sleep indoors, so pitched their teepee in the yard for their greater
comfort.
As West drove up to the house the door opened, and Bess was soon
clasped in the arms of his mother. Happily he watched her as she
welcomed the sister of his dearest and best friend.
“Mrs. West,” said the stranger, “I cannot tell you how happy I am to
know you. James has told me so many dear, sweet things of you that
somehow it feels as if you were my own mother, and I do need a mother
so,” added the girl, with eyes that could not hold back the tears.
“God bless you, my dear,” she heard a gentle voice saying. “I, too,
need a daughter to fill the place made vacant nearly a year ago.” She
lifted the girl’s face tenderly with both her hands, and looking into
the clear eyes told her how much she seemed like the daughter who had
been lost.
“Helen was fair,” she explained. “Her hair was even lighter than yours,
dear; she was quite as tall and about your age. She was like her Scotch
father, while Henry looks like me.”
Bess gently kissed the tear-stained cheek of the tender mother, and
pressed her lips against the soft, white hair, as together they went
into the house. How cozy everything seemed! The cheerful fire in the
grate, the comfortable chairs and couches, the beautiful pictures and
rugs, gave everything a ‘homey’ look. Bess was surprised to find such
evidences of refinement, wealth and comfort here—away out in Montana
and on an Indian Reservation! Her surprises were not to end here,
however, for she would soon discover that many, many of the families
scattered all over this vast reservation were equally as comfortable
and thrifty.
Mrs. West led the way to Bess’ room, and telling her that dinner would
be ready in a half hour, left her.
Little ejaculations of happy surprises escaped the girl as she glanced
about the room. Everything was creamy white and pale blue. The large
brass bed was draped with soft blue and white, the furniture was white,
and several comfortable willow rockers invited to rest. In one corner
was a wide couch with numerous pretty cushions. A few choice pictures
adorned the walls. Surely, the one who displayed so much taste in
fitting up this dainty room must have been used to refinement! It was
so different from what she had expected to find. James had told her of
it all, and yet she was surprised. She surmised this had been Helen’s
room.
As she hurried about, getting on her fresh, clean clothes, she
continued her appraisal of her room. “I love you already,” she kept
saying to herself.
During dinner not a word had been said concerning the patient, and
Bess was interested in hearing James and Henry discussing the affairs
of the ranch—how the wheat was growing, what a wonderful crop of hay
was promised, the oats, too, never stood so well before at this time of
year; the spring calves were all getting along fine; up to date there
had been, as nearly as could be counted, about ninety colts.
Several times the girl became so engrossed in these new, strange topics
that she forgot her meal, and Mrs. West could scarcely refrain a smile
at her wide, wondering eyes.
As Bess’ hostess arose from the table she said: “You must all be worn
out with your experience of today, and I advise early hours.”
Henry came over to his mother’s side, and kissing her gently on the
brow, told her that he would spend the night looking after Mr. Davis.
But she said: “No, dear, you go to bed and rest, and when I need you I
will call you.” Finally she persuaded him to consent to retire, after
he and James had had their smoke.
Bess’ heart went out to this great, dark man, as she saw his
gentleness. She thought that any man who so reverenced his mother must
be worthy of greatest confidence and trust.
“I’ll say good-night now,” she said, for she was glad to get some rest.
Her face and neck were smarting from the unusual exposure to the sun
and wind, and she was trying to find something with which to alleviate
the burning when Mrs. West tapped gently at her door.
“Are you asleep, dear?”
Bess quickly opened the door for her to enter. “Mr. Davis is sleeping
again, so I came to see what help I might be to our ‘little stranger,’”
she said gently, and noticing that the girl was suffering with the
sunburned tender face, hastened to bring something to soothe her. “Let
me put this on, dearie. Why, you are dreadfully burned!”
“I should have known better than to ride so far with only that
tam-o’-shanter on my head,” said Bess.
“You should have a light, soft sombrero, and then you will be a regular
‘cowboy,’ and we’ll try to find a gun and spurs, too,” laughed Mrs.
West, as she gently bathed the flaming cheeks and brow.
When she had been tucked snugly in her bed, Mrs. West sat by her side,
telling in her modulated voice of her own strange experiences in the
West; of her days in school and college; of her teaching and her music;
of her home life and her children; opening little secret chambers in
her soul to the girl, who was already filling her heart. Bess listened
in wonderment at all that was told so modestly, and then she readily
understood the source and cause of the taste and refinement which she
had already observed.
On they chatted, like two school chums who had not seen each other for
years, until Mrs. West noticed the tired eyelids trying so hard to stay
open, and kissed Bess gently on the brow. The girl aroused herself and
said: “Please, little mother, wait until I pray. Put your arms around
me tight and let me feel what it means to have a mother.”
Together they mingled their supplications to the Great Common Father,
and in the sight of God they were equal—though one pair of eyelids
closed on cheeks fair as a lily and tears wet the face of one so dark.