VIVE
SO the days and weeks passed on at the Rainbow Ranch, seeming to be
uneventful and yet filled with quantities of pleasures and interests.
June came and the prairies were covered with wild flowers.
No one stayed indoors, except to sleep and eat, and oftentimes not for
either of these things. Many nights Jack slept out on the Lodge
verandah, sometimes with Olive or Jean, more often alone.
There were wonderful white nights such as only the west knows.
Jack used to love to lie and listen to the sounds she had long known and
loved. A pair of owls in one of the old cottonwood trees held nightly
conversations with each other, now and then screeching in such an
irritated fashion that Jack laughed over their apparently human
qualities.
Then far away from the house on the neighboring prairies she could hear
the coyotes call to one another with warnings of danger.
These were excellent nights in which to think, for sometimes the moon
made it almost too light for sleep. And Jack had a great deal to occupy
her mind. Twice a week she wrote Frank and he wrote her with the same
frequency, since at this time there were still two mail boats a week.
But neither made any reference to their conversation on the evening when
Jack had made her request to come home and given her reason.
Things in England were not going so well at this period as Frank had
hoped, and he wrote chiefly of this. But he also said that he now
received frequent news from Captain MacDonnell, who was growing better
and now knew what fate had in store for him. He might be able to walk in
the future, but only with crutches.
On several occasions Jack thought of deliberately asking her husband to
come to some kind of an agreement with her for the future. Yet she
hardly dared open a subject that might lead to differences between them,
when they were so far apart, but she was very often lonely for him and
sometimes repented having left England at all.
Jack, of course, was not always in this frame of mind. During the
greater part of the time she was very happy.
A number of hours each day she spent on the horse Jim had given her,
which she had named "Britain" in honor of her adopted country.
Now and then Jean and Olive and Frieda would refuse to ride, preferring
some other amusement, but there was always Jim as a companion.
Jim Colter was now a successful and fairly wealthy ranchman owning a
half interest in the Rainbow Ranch and having the entire ownership of
the one adjoining it. But he continued to follow much the same routine
as when he was only the manager for the Ranch girls.
That is, whenever it was possible, he rode over miles of the ranch land,
watching the crops and his water supply, and carefully examining all his
horses and cattle, when they seemed to need his attention.
Accompanying Jim on these excursions had been, not only one of Jack's
chief amusements, but one of her serious occupations as a girl and it
still greatly interested her. Besides, she and Jim saw each other under
more favorable circumstances in this way than in any other, and had
more real opportunities for conversation.
But always Jack arranged to get back to the Lodge in time to see her
children before they went to bed. They had an excellent nurse and of
course there was all the rest of the family to look after them, but Jack
had followed this custom at home, except under unusual circumstances and
would not have given it up for a great deal.
Therefore she was worried one afternoon when Jim insisted upon staying
out later than usual. She would have returned alone, except that Jim had
found a young colt which had injured itself and wished Jack's help and
advice in the care of it.
Finally, when they did get started for home, Jack rode ahead like the
wind, calling back to her companion not to try to follow her unless he
liked, as she knew he had some other matters on the place to look after.
By making unusual speed she hoped to reach home a few minutes before
six, when Vive was put into bed and Jimmie ate his supper before
following her.
Olive was waiting on the porch when Jack came into sight and went out to
meet her before she had dismounted.
"What is it, Olive?" Jack asked sharply, as soon as she saw her. "Which
one of the children is it? What has happened?" For it is a curious fact
that a mother often feels this premonition of danger.
"There is nothing to be seriously frightened about, Jack," Olive replied
quietly, "only little Vive isn't very well. Frieda and I had her with us
for a little while this afternoon and she seemed somewhat languid.
Frieda thought she had a little fever, so Ruth saw her and we have sent
for the doctor. He will be here in another few moments."
Jack made no comment except to go swiftly indoors, leaving Olive to find
some one to care for her horse.
She knew, of course, that Olive was telling her as little as possible.
Jimmie had been taken away to the other house, so Vive now occupied
alone the big room at the Lodge which had belonged to Jack and Frieda
when they were little girls.
It was simply furnished with a few rugs and wicker chairs and bright
pictures and three little white iron cots.
In the smallest Vive lay apparently asleep on her pillow.
But Jack saw at once she was not asleep. Her exquisite little face was
flushed a bright scarlet, her lids heavy and closed, and the strangest
fact was that one of her little hands twitched unceasingly.
Now and then she opened her golden brown eyes, but without seeing or
knowing anyone.
When the doctor arrived he made no effort to disguise the seriousness of
Vive's condition. If she were to live it would be a fight and one of the
hardest of all kinds, since they must simply wait and watch, with very
little possible to do.
For some unknown reason, perhaps because there had been too much
excitement from the trip, too much notice taken of her by too many
people, Vive had meningitis.
But Jack was never a coward and it is scarcely worth saying that a
mother's courage, so long as she thinks it can help her child, is the
purest courage of all.
As soon as she heard the verdict, Jack went quickly to her own room and
put on a white cotton dress. Afterwards, until Vive was better or worse,
she would never leave her side for a moment.
But it is one thing to be brave when a shock comes and one has health
and strength to meet it. It is another to keep up that courage hour
after hour, day after day, when the strength is gone and the body and
mind unconsciously sick with weariness.
There was a trained nurse, of course, and any member of her family would
have done anything that was humanly possible to relieve Jack's vigil.
But she would not be persuaded or argued into going out of her baby's
room, and slept there in the hours when she did sleep, half awake and
half dreaming, on a small cot by Vive's.
And most of the time Frieda stayed with her.
In a way it seems strange that it should have been Frieda. Olive, one
would have supposed to be more sympathetic, Jean and Ruth had children
of their own.
But some change had been taking place in Frieda for a good many months
and she adored little Vive. Whenever any of the others disputed Frieda's
right, she always said quietly that after all, she was Jack's only
sister, and that if anything happened she must be the one to be by her.
If Jack's husband had been with her, why then it would have been
different. So Frieda even waved away her devoted Professor, who feared
she might be ill, by telling him there would be time enough to think of
her later on.
Although she and Jack sat side by side for many hours with their eyes on
the baby, they but rarely spoke to each other.
Yet it was too pitiful to continue always to watch the movement of
Vive's baby hands and her heavy breathing.
"If Vive dies do you think Frank will ever forgive me," Jack asked one
night.
And true to herself Frieda tossed her yellow head.
"I don't see what Frank has to forgive? The point is will he ever
forgive himself for having you go through all this alone?"
"But I ought not to have brought Vive away. Still I wouldn't mind
anything if only Frank were with me."
A little later when the doctor arrived he said that the crisis would
come within the hour and he would remain.
Olive and Jean waited in the Lodge living room, Jim had disappeared
somewhere an hour before. Ruth Colter came into the nursery and stayed
by Jack.
Half an hour passed. Then suddenly there was a strange, almost an
unearthly silence in the room, and it was as if one could see the
little white soul rise and float softly away like a bird.
The little figure in the cradle was still.
The doctor rose up.
"It is over," he said pitifully.
Frieda covered up her face, but Jack went over and looked down at Vive
for a moment and then turned to the others.
"Please do not let anyone come with me," she asked. "I must go outdoors
alone."
Then Jack went out past the living room, through the long avenue of tall
trees, on farther and farther, not knowing where she was going.
The Rainbow Ranch, which she had loved better than any place in the
world, had taken from her the human being, whom at this moment she
believed she loved most.
Over Rainbow creek there hung a tiny yellow, crescent moon. It seemed to
Jack that this, too, made her think of her baby, it was just as cold,
just as perfect and as far away.
She stayed there a long time, then getting up she wandered on. She did
not think whether her family would be uneasy, she did not care.
It seemed to her she never wished to go back again to the Lodge.
But finally a little clearer judgment came to her and she turned back.
It was almost dawn.
There, standing on the porch of the Rainbow Lodge, was a man's figure.
Jack supposed it was Jim.
He started toward her and the next moment Jack was in his arms.
"Do you know, Frank?" Jack queried.
Frank drew her closer to him.
A little later she allowed Frank to lead her into the house, where she
undressed and went to bed, with him sitting beside her.
She had made no inquiry about how he had arrived at such a moment. Jack
had but one thought at this time, no others could enter her mind.
The facts were that Frank had left England ten days before bringing
Captain MacDonnell with him. He had a mission from his Government so as
to make the trip possible. But more than anything else he felt he must
see his wife.
He had tried to write Jack, to tell her that he believed he had been
unfair, that his obstinacy should never make an issue between them
again. But it had all been so difficult to write and it must be so long
before he could receive Jack's answer.
Moreover, Frank wanted to bring Captain MacDonnell to the ranch to stay
during his convalescence. Soon after Jack's departure he had gone over
to France, as an act of expiation both to his wife and friend. There he
had found Captain MacDonnell recovering, but infinitely depressed with
the thought that he could no longer serve his country, but must be only
a burden.
On the arrival of his steamer in New York Lord Kent had wired Jim
Colter, but Jim had thought it best not to speak to Jack until Frank was
able to reach her.
He had therefore sent him a wire telling of Vive's illness, and Frank
had hurried west, leaving Captain MacDonnell with friends in New York
city.