TEXAS AND MASSACHUSETTS
AT supper-time all the invalids were up; Kitty appearing rather
"interestingly pale," as Amanda remarked; Debby hobbling about in
padded bedroom slippers; and Grandmother Clyde looking somewhat older
and grayer than usual, but calm and contained once more.
"Where are the boys?" asked the Señora, noting Alec's absence with
some anxiety.
"They went off early this morning loaded for big game," said Uncle Joe
with a twinkle in his eye.
"Do you mean they carried guns?" Mrs. Clyde spoke with a shade of
worry in her tone; she had missed the twinkle.
"Shady had a shotgun, I believe, but the boys carried nothing deadlier
than lariats. I believe young Trent takes one to bed with him. He's
been practising on the snubbing-post in the corral for hours every
day,--he's got so he catches it about once in so often, and he's
tickled to death." Uncle Joe chuckled.
"Knight Judson can beat any of the Mexicans at lassoing," Blue Bonnet
declared. "He must be a wonder when he has both hands free."
"He doesn't seem in any hurry to discard his sling, I notice," Uncle
Joe remarked, winking at Blue Bonnet ostentatiously.
"His wrist isn't well yet," she insisted, ignoring the teasing glance.
"Here they come, now," exclaimed Kitty. "Alec looks as excited as if
he'd killed a bear at the very least!"
"We've had a wonderful day," Alec declared, full of enthusiasm, when
he and Knight had greeted every one and slipped into their places.
Both boys were ravenous; Blue Bonnet and her grandmother exchanged a
significant glance as Alec passed his plate for a second generous
helping. He looked already a different boy from the pale student who
had left Woodford only a few weeks before.
"Guess what we bagged to-day?" he asked.
"A bear!" Kitty said immediately.
"Quail!" Blue Bonnet guessed.
"Shady got some quail, but we didn't do any shooting," replied Alec.
"Maybe you and Knight lassoed some prairie-hens," suggested Uncle Joe,
laughing at his own joke.
"Alec lassoed his first steer all right--made a neat job of it too,"
said Knight enthusiastically.
"Very amateurish work," Alec protested, pleased nevertheless at
Knight's praise. "The steer thought I looked so harmless that he took
a big chance--that's how I came to land him."
"But what did you 'bag?'" asked Blue Bonnet, going back to the
original question. "Is it good to eat?"
Knight and Alec exchanged amused glances. "Never tasted them," both
declared.
"Where is it?" Blue Bonnet persisted.
"'Tisn't 'it,'--but 'they'--and they're out in the barn," said Alec,
delighting in the mystery.
Blue Bonnet was all impatience. "Oh, do hurry, everybody, and let's go
see," she urged.
The rapidity with which Knight and Alec ate the rest of their supper
should have given them indigestion, even if it did not. It was
impossible to leave any of Gertrudis' raspberry tart; equally
impossible to keep their hostess waiting when she was on tip-toe to be
off; mastication therefore was the only thing they could neglect--and
did.
Blue Bonnet had felt all the weight of her sixteen years a few hours
earlier, but now she seemed to drop at least six of them, as she raced
across the yard, impelled by a curiosity that Kitty would have died
rather than display.
Don and Solomon were sniffing excitedly about one of the mangers,
emitting an occasional shrill bark; Blue Bonnet went straight to it
and peered down. It was too dark to make out anything, but she could
hear a rustling in the hay, and a pathetic, low whine.
"It's something alive!" she cried, and was about to put an exploring
hand down to find the source of the whine, when she had a second
thought. "Will it bite?"
"Too little," Knight assured her. He bent as he spoke and lifted two
little furry bundles and laid them in Blue Bonnet's outstretched arms.
"Puppies!" she cried delightedly. She bore them to the light, the
other girls crowding about for a view of the wriggling mites.
After her first good look at them, Sarah gave an exclamation of
surprise. "Why, they're not dogs," she cried.
"Yes, they are," said Alec, "--coyote pups!"
"Oh, the dears!" cried Blue Bonnet ecstatically. "Where did you get
them?"
"Shady shot the mother," Knight explained, and then wished he had
not,--Blue Bonnet looked so grieved. "She killed a calf a few nights
ago," he said in extenuation, "and Shady was 'laying for' her. She
made for her hole after she was wounded and we followed,--that's how
we came to find the pups. Lucky we did or they'd have had a hard time
of it."
"Poor babies," said Blue Bonnet. "Let's go and show them to
Grandmother and Debby--I reckon they never saw a real live coyote
before. Here, Sarah, you carry one." She generously held out one of
the bright-eyed babies, but to her surprise Sarah drew back. "Why, you
can't be afraid, Sarah?"
"N-no," Sarah replied, edging away as she spoke. "But I don't like to
touch--live animals."
"Well, I'd much rather touch live ones than dead things!" exclaimed
Blue Bonnet. "Here, Alec, you take the poor baby--Sarah doesn't know
how to mother it!"
Grandmother and Debby were rather lukewarm in their praise, Blue
Bonnet thought, when the coyotes were brought to them on the veranda.
Grandmother did not look in the least delighted when the two
sharp-nosed, long-haired puppies were dropped into her lap; and
finally Blue Bonnet gathered them both in her arms, declaring that
nobody knew how to appreciate real Texas babies except herself.
"I'm going to keep them always," she said. "And Don and Solomon will
just have to be reconciled."
"Have you asked your uncle if he is willing for you to keep two such
pets?" her grandmother asked.
Blue Bonnet looked over to Uncle Cliff and laughed. "Asked Uncle
Cliff? Why, Grandmother, I brought him up and he knows better than to
oppose me at this late day!"
Uncle Cliff smiled back at her whimsically. "I hope I'm a credit to
your training! Two new pets is quite a modest demand. I've known her
to have a dozen or two at a time. One summer she had twin lambs, a
magpie, a lizard, bunnies--"
"Don't forget the snakes," Blue Bonnet interrupted.
"Blue Bonnet Ashe--you never made pets of snakes!" gasped Debby.
"Three of them; beauties, too," Blue Bonnet replied.
"Weren't you afraid of them?" Sarah asked wonderingly.
"These were perfectly harmless; nobody should be afraid of such pretty
little things. But the magpie had fits over them, so they had to go,"
Blue Bonnet remarked regretfully.
"What became of the magpie?" asked Kitty.
"Poor Mag died of curiosity," said Mr. Ashe. "She sampled some cyanide
of potassium I had put out for ants. We had a most impressive funeral.
You must get Blue Bonnet to show you her grave."
"I will some day. We chose Mag's favorite spot--under a dewberry bush.
Now what shall we call these cherubs?"
"You've just called them 'Texas babies,' why not call one 'Texas?'"
Knight suggested.
"And the other 'Massachusetts,'" said Sarah.
Blue Bonnet looked at her in open admiration. "Your inspirations don't
come often, Sarah," she remarked, "but they're as apt as not to be
positively brilliant when they get here! Texas and Massachusetts the
babies shall be. Poor Massachusetts' name is as long as his tail, but
maybe he can bear up under it."
"Let's go show them to the youngsters," Alec suggested. "Pancho's
twins are straining their eyes for a peep."
Blue Bonnet gave him one of the pups to carry and together they
crossed the yard to the Mexican quarters. A moment later Blue Bonnet
was sitting in the doorway of the little adobe hut, the coyotes in her
lap, while all of Pancho's brood, not to mention Pancho and his fat
Marta, were hanging about her in an eager, admiring circle. Every
little "greaser" on the ranch adored the Señorita, and she was
godmother to half the babies born on the place. Alec bade fair to be
almost as popular as she, for he was always ready for a romp and had
an unfailing supply of nuts in his capacious pockets. The visit now
ended in a "rough-house," Alec with his ever-handy lariat lassoing the
fleet-footed boys and pretending to take them prisoner, while they
dodged and ran and kept up a shrill chorus of baby Spanish that
delighted his soul.
Later he and Blue Bonnet walked to the stable and put the coyotes down
for the night; choosing the unused manger again as being secure
against the impertinent investigations of Don and Solomon, and deep
enough to prevent the venturesome babies from falling out. It was
almost dark as they strolled back towards the house, lingering and
chatting and drinking in the beauty of the night. The lovely southern
sky was studded with stars; the breeze laden with perfumes that only a
Texas prairie knows; and the air full of melody,--the deep laughter of
the cowboys lounging about the bunk-house, and the sweet tone of
Shady's fiddle as he played to the crowd on the house-veranda.
Alec paused and drew a deep breath. "And you wanted to leave it!"
"I wonder at myself sometimes," she confessed. "But I'm not sorry.
Think how much richer I am this summer than last, with Grandmother and
all the girls,--not to mention present company!"
"Thank you!" Alec laughed and made his bow.
"You like it more because it is--different, than for any other reason.
I reckon you have to know other places before you can properly
appreciate your own," she went on thoughtfully.
"This doesn't seem to add to my appreciation of--Woodford," Alec
rejoined quickly.
"That's because you haven't been here long enough. After a few years
you'd begin to wonder how the elms look on Adams Avenue, and yearn for
a glimpse of the Boston Common--just as I used to long for a sight of
the prairie. But I'm glad you like it here--for it is a grand old
place!"
"I wish Grandfather would rejoice because I like it," he remarked
moodily. "He seems to be sorry that I didn't go abroad with Boyd. And
Boyd's letters to him--which he always forwards--are full of ravings
about automobiles and scenery and pictures. Pictures!" Alec pointed to
the meadow ahead of them where a million fireflies flashed their tiny
lanterns, "--I wish he could see this! And I wish--I wish I could make
him understand the bigness of it all. And how tired I am of sitting
still and letting other people _do_ things. I want to live." The boy's
voice trembled as he ended.
Again Blue Bonnet had a sudden sinking of the heart--could Alec
mean--? She opened her lips to speak, but he went on gloomily:
"Grandfather doesn't seem able to understand. He has never been
willing to admit that I am a weakling, and refuses to see that my days
are numbered in Woodford. I've been trying to get up courage enough to
write him about myself, but I can't do it--yet." And then, as if
fearing he had said too much, he added: "But don't say anything to the
others, please. It's too soon--I may feel different by the end of the
summer. Let it be a secret between us two--three rather, for I've
already told Knight." Then, before Blue Bonnet could gather herself
together for a reply, he had started on a new tack. "I tell you, Blue
Bonnet, there's a fellow that dwarfs every other chap I ever knew!"
His tone was now as eager and enthusiastic as it had been doleful.
Blue Bonnet was puzzled, but deciding that Alec needed to have his
mind turned from introspective subjects, she took him up at once. "I
agree with you. He's a giant for his age."
"I don't mean his size," returned Alec. "He's so big--mentally, you
know. And he's so alive, so--"
"Up and coming?" interpolated Blue Bonnet. "That's pure Texan, I
believe."
"It describes him exactly."
"What I can't understand is how such an expert horseman came to be
thrown," Blue Bonnet remarked wonderingly.
"I suppose he was startled at seeing a blue bonnet out of season!"
laughed Alec. "I'm so glad something happened to bring him my way. It
seems to give me a new lease on life just to be with him."
"Uncle Cliff says he is 'greased lightning' with a lariat," said Blue
Bonnet.
"I should say he is. I could find it in my heart to envy him that
accomplishment, even if he hadn't any others."
"Uncle Joe says you are getting quite expert yourself," she threw out
comfortingly.
"Oh, yes, I can lasso a snubbing-post that can't get out of the way!"
he retorted. He still clung to his lariat and now swung it in his hand
rather impatiently.
"Try your skill now. There's one of the girls waiting for us--lasso
her and see how she acts!" Blue Bonnet urged mischievously.
"Where?"
"There--just by the magnolia," she whispered.
It was almost dark, but Alec could manage to make out a dark figure
standing half within the shadow of the big tree. He crept silently a
few steps nearer and paused, whirling the loop around his head. The
hair rope spread into a circle, hissed and flickered for a moment in
the air, then dropped straight over the victim. It was a good throw.
Alec gave a twitch--not too hard--to the lariat, and the thing was
done. Blue Bonnet clapped her hands and started forward with Alec to
see which one of the girls he had caught. Both suddenly stopped in
dismay. There was a struggle, a shrill scream, and a very angry
Spanish oath.
And as the two of them hastened up full of surprise and apologies,
they saw--Juanita and Miguel both caught in the one noose.
Stifling their laughter, Alec and Blue Bonnet released the embarrassed
pair of sweethearts, and then the boy made a handsome apology. Juanita
hung her head and was silent, but Miguel, after the first blazing up
of his anger, cooled down and accepted the explanation in good part.
Still weak with suppressed laughter, the two miscreants hurried on,
waiting to be out of ear-shot before giving way to their wild mirth.
As they drew near to the veranda they heard the crowd there singing to
the accompaniment of Shady's violin.
"Nita, Jua-a-an-ita, ask thy soul if we must part!"
came tremulously from Uncle Joe and the We are Sevens.
It was too much. Blue Bonnet collapsed in a heap on the grass.
"Oh, Alec!" she gasped. "Miguel ought to have been singing that,--only
he ought to have said--'Jua-a-an-ita, bless my soul if we can part!'"