BRONCHO BILLY
“But it isn’t like you to mope, Gloria,” reasoned Trixy, with a
suspicion of reproof.
“I know, Trix, but I just feel I am--country!”
“If you mean natural, I’ll agree. The city has a knack of artifice. But
why you should let a word from that feather brain, Jean, so affect you?”
“It wasn’t that alone. I’ve felt ever since I came that Hazel had
branded me as the poor relation, the little orphan Annie----”
“Oh, Hazel isn’t really mean----”
“No, but she’s so high and mighty that her very compliments sting,”
argued the miserable Gloria. “Truly, Trix, I don’t care a rap for
myself, but I’ve been selfish about you. They didn’t ask you to ride
yesterday, I noticed.”
“I had a glorious canter before their old horses were out of the
stalls,” flung back Trixy. “I hate riding in a crowd. It’s like
travelling with a party. Every move is subject to the schedule,
prearranged. Besides, I made a discovery while out on my run, and if
you are a good girl I’ll disclose it to you.”
“Be a lamb and tell me the glad tidings,” coaxed Gloria. “I’m just
dying for something new. Don’t you hate the rules and regulations that
put us asleep, wake us up, feed us, think for us----”
“Gloria Doane! You little wild oriole, with your black head and
new sweater!” laughed Trixy. “I’m afraid you really do need the
Altmount discipline. You have been such a free little creature all
your life.” Trixy looked absently out the window over the wavering
trees, some already leafless, others gorgeously colorful. She was
remembering Gloria Doane at her seaside, Barbend home, and again
recalling the heroic Gloria, who a few months ago, had fought her way
out of a flooded house, where with the little boy, Marty, she had
become imprisoned. This was the great adventure related in “Gloria”
and comparing the girl of such adventures with the one Trixy now
confronted, it was not unreasonable indeed to find her rebelling,
straining at the silken cords of Altmount’s restrictions. But
Trixy’s life had been very different. The child of wealth is born to
responsibilities, and they scarcely ever include escapes from flooded
cellars, or the rescue of frightened children surrounding helplessly
sick mothers.
“You know, Gloria,” spoke Trixy again, “there really is a lot to learn
here. We couldn’t expect to find everything rosy, that would mean
deadly monotony.”
“Oh, I know I’m horrid to grumble,” promptly admitted Gloria, “but I
do like to do things. There seems so little to do here except follow
rules.”
“Why don’t you put on the charmed necklace? That might precipitate an
adventure,” suggested Trixy.
“Put it on! No, indeedy. I’m glad it’s on your side of the curtain,”
declared Gloria, “for I do get strange fancies concerning the thing.
The more I try to solve the mystery of the original owner, the further
I get from it. Do you suppose there is some one here not really a
pupil----”
“Maggie?” mocked Trixy.
“No. Of course not Maggie. But there are rather queer folks sauntering
around. There’s the official mender, for instance. That one who wears
a wig to hide her shaved head, according to Pat. Now, she might really
own a trunk, and those home-made beads look rather like her. Just
imagine me wearing a gift from her.”
Trixy laughed uproariously at the possibility, and she finally decided
with Gloria, that the necklace had better be kept in seclusion.
“But I had an adventure this morning,” again promised Trixy.
“Tell me about it,” begged Gloria. “Was there a nice woozy old tramp in
it or, mayhap, a plumed knight?”
“Neither. But let’s take our constitutional. These walls--might have
ears,” cautioned Trixy.
“So secret as that! Goody!” Gloria executed a little skip over to the
curtained closet, snatched her cap off a hook and clapped it on her
head. “Every one seems late this morning,” she remarked. “We can have
the birch lane all to ourselves. Hurry and give me the thrill. I’m
famished for it.”
But as they tried to slip out, more than one hail from peekers in
doorways demanded to know whence and why, and evading the rebound of
Pat, who dashed into the “lav” and intended to dash out again, was not
altogether a simple matter. In fact, the tower stairs were finally used
as a means of escape.
“Hurry!” whispered Trixy. “The side door is open.”
“Tell me!” begged Gloria. “I’m fairly quivering with expectancy.”
“It’s about Jack,” began Trixy, catching her breath.
“Is she back?”
“She must be. I saw her before breakfast.”
“Where?”
“That’s my story, but you’re spoiling it all with your unromantic
questions. Please, as the witnesses say, let me tell it in my own way.”
“Proceed,” ordered Gloria, with a flourish of her free arm.
“You know I went out very early----”
“I do.”
“But I didn’t waken you. I heard you breathing awake long before.”
“Yes, I was awake. Really, Trix, I’m afraid I was a bit homesick. But
never mind me. Can’t you feel me tr-r-r-em-bell, awaiting your story?”
“Walking at this pace is an absorbing occupation,” objected Trixy.
“Let’s sit down and talk like civilized folks.”
A squat on the big rustic bench under the Twin Oaks didn’t look very
civilized, but it was better for confidence than was racing.
“I was just turning in with ‘Whirlwind’ (he’s a lovely little horse,)
when I saw or rather heard a party trotting along from the Sound Road,”
began Trixy. “They were on a regular trot and coming like the wind. I
pulled to one side to let them pass, and that put me behind the line of
low cedars. They couldn’t see me but I faced them----”
“Who?”
“I only recognized one. Jack. You should have seen her! She looked like
a poster girl.”
“Jack!”
“Yes. Her hair was loose, it must have fallen from under her hat, a
brown felt, and her habit! It wasn’t a habit at all, but shirt and
trousers like a regular little Broncho Billy!”
“Our Jack----”
“Yes, indeed. I might not have believed my eyes if my ears hadn’t
helped. Just as her horse swung into the lane she called to him. It
was certainly Jack’s voice,” declared Trixy, still mildly excited over
the unusual encounter.
“And who was with her? You said others----” prompted Gloria, foreseeing
an interesting escapade in Jack’s assuming the rôle of a Broncho Billy.
“Yes, there was a woman and she also was an expert rider, besides--now
get a good long breath, Glo, you’ll need it,” warned Trixy. “The other
member of the wild rider’s troupe was a perfectly stunning looking
young fellow.”
“Oh, how delightful! Oh, how exciting,” sighed Gloria. “How ever has
Jack kept such a plot all to herself?”
“Perhaps she hasn’t. You forget we are comparative strangers.”
“And out of the confidence club,” a hint of yesterday’s bitterness
flashed through that remark.
“But what particularly struck me,” resumed Trixy, ignoring the
cynicism, “was the wonderful mounts, the absolute expertness of those
three riders. They certainly are professionals,” she insisted.
“Oh, I have it!” exclaimed Gloria. “My trunk mystery! Jack belongs
to--to a troupe!”
“A troupe!” For a moment Trixy was mystified.
“You know,” insisted Gloria, “the strange trunk I opened? And all
the--glittering stuff?”
“Oh, yes. Of course. You--we have never solved that mystery----”
“And Jack is always so sort of spectacular! Oh Trix, do you really
think she might belong to a circus?”
“A circus! How ever could a circus performer get into Altmount?”
“That’s so. This is rather an exclusive place. I recall that your
mother had to vouch for me.”
“Gloria Doane! You are a perfect little simpleton! No one had to
_vouch_ for you. Your own mother attended one of the Alton schools
and her name was an excellent voucher. All my mater had to do was
to----”
“Say she knew me, and my dad, and all the rest of the family!” Scorn
mocked the words.
Trixy tossed her head back impatiently. Gloria’s humility was plainly
far from genuine, but she swung quickly to her friend’s side and threw
an affectionate arm around her.
“Darling Trix,” she whispered. “I am getting to be a horrid prig, I
know it. Just plain vanity, of course. But for mercy sakes, tell me
about Jack’s chariot race. We’ll have to go indoors directly and I
haven’t heard half.”
“There really isn’t any more to tell,” replied Trixy. She smiled
forgiveness into Gloria’s eyes, however. “They had ridden a long
distance, that was evident, and I just wish you could have seen what a
raving beauty Jack looked.”
“War paint.”
“Strange I never thought of that, I do believe she might have had some
queer color on her face----”
“What fun!” cried Gloria, springing to her feet and threatening to
dance. “Do you suppose we’ll see her in all her togs? Which way did she
go? Didn’t you even shout at her?”
“No, to your last question but I couldn’t keep track of the others. I
was so surprised when I recognized her I couldn’t even shout. Besides,
all three seemed very serious. I would not have dared break in on them.
Who, do you suppose, the woman was?”
“Her Steppy, of course, stepmother, you know. It is she, according to
friend Pat, who drags Jack away in the night. Perhaps she does, too, if
she’s a trouper,” reasoned Gloria.
“Well, at any rate, Glo, I guess we have discovered something. I know
you’ve been aching for it, and I feel, somehow, a chunk, a good sized
chunk of your special brand of excitement has actually arrived.”
“You don’t mean that Jack will come out and declare herself!” exclaimed
Gloria. “Perhaps we won’t see or hear another word about it.” That
possibility brought gloom.
“But others saw her,” reasoned Trixy. They were now retracing their
steps and about to meet a group of girls also returning from their
early morning exercise.
“Who saw her?” asked Gloria.
“I don’t know just who it was, but certainly some very slim girl dodged
me, as I walked back from the stables. It looked a bit like Mary.”
“Oh, we’ll ask her,” declared Gloria. “At any rate Mary’s getting so
friendly it would be nice to sort of take her in our confidence. Don’t
you think so?”
“Well----” Trixy paused. Then continued: “Suppose we don’t say anything
for a while and just see what happens. I wouldn’t want her to start
anything sensational, you know.”
“Oh, of course. There, you see, I would have blurted out the whole
fantastic story and perhaps made a mortal enemy of the picturesque
Jack. After all, Trixy, I am country and green, don’t you think so?”
“Have it your own way,” replied Trixy with a light laugh. “I don’t
intend to go on forever telling you what a darling you are.”
But she looked as if she might go on doing so for quite a while longer.