THE HUSH OF ANXIETY
Mrs. Trent and Aunt Sally sat down alone to dinner. The little lads
were in their beds, recovering from the sound scrubbing Pasqual had
given them. Clothed in fresh nightgowns, and refreshed by generous
bowls of bread and milk, they had been left in a darkened room to
reflect upon the hard ways of transgressors. But reflection was
unusual work for their active brains, and they had promptly fallen
asleep; hence the profound peace which rested upon the house.
"I wonder where Jessica is? She was to have written my letters for me,
but I haven't seen her since breakfast," said the mother, somewhat
anxiously.
"Oh! she's around somewhere. Was at the laundry window while I was
tending to the children, and said she'd go find their clothes. In all
my born days I never saw two small heads could hatch the mischief
Ned's and Luis' can. It's out of one scrape into another, and seems if
they must break their necks some day."
"Oh! don't forecast evil. Their pranks keep my nerves on tension all
the time, yet I shouldn't worry so. They always escape from harm. But
I'd like to know how they got that horse."
"So would I. They must have had help painting it. Stands to reason two
midgets like them couldn't have kept a high-spirited creatur' quiet
while they wasted enough good paint on him to cover a meeting house."
"John won't be pleased. He's so careful of his belongings, even I
never touch them without permission," said the ranch mistress, smiling
afresh at the memory of the ridiculous picture the boys had made.
"Don't surprise me't you laugh, Gabriella, but you'd ought to put the
reins on tighter to them chaps, lest first you know they'll be driving
you, not you them. Do it already, seems if."
"How can I be stern with Cassius' little son? Every day I see more
resemblance to his father in the childs face; yes, and in his nature,
too. Nobody was ever fonder of fun than my husband, yet surely there
never was a better man."
"Oh! Neddy's all right. Trouble is to keep him from thinkin' so
himself. But, there. Why don't you eat your dinner? You haven't more'n
half touched it. It's a shame to waste good victuals, and these are
good. I fixed 'em myself."
The other smiled again at the complacency visible upon her friend's
face, which so innocently dsplayed the same feeling that had just been
deplored in Ned. However, Aunt Sally was too busy with her own food to
notice anything else, and it seemed long to her companion before she
had finished and risen, to call, sharply:
"Pas-qual! Oh, Pasqual-ly! Why aren't you on hand to clear the table?
Don't you know I've got--and here followed a long list of things to be
done, more than many could accomplish in several days." Each had some
reference to the coming holidays, and the house boy understood this.
He entered, more willingly than usual, grinning with the anticipation
of the raisins he would have to stone, the nuts he must crack, and the
goodly samples of each that he would surreptitiously procure.
Mrs. Trent asked him to put aside Miss Jessica's dinner, till she came
in, and to be sure that it was also kept nice and warm.
"All right, lady. I'll do that good enough. Don't mind what I has to
do for 'Lady Jess';" and immediately seized the plate, which Aunt
Sally had already filled, to place it in the warming oven.
Then the mother went out, and among the adobe buildings, which formed
the "boys" quarters and the business part of the ranch, calling
gently, as she went, in the brooding sort of note which had long been
a signal between her and her child. But no Jessica responded; and, to
her fancy, it seemed that the whole place was strangely silent.
"After all, that is not to be wondered at. The men are done with
dinner, and gone about their work. The boys are asleep, and only
Jessica would be anywhere near. What can keep her, I wonder?" and with
this thought the lady again uttered the tender call which would summon
her daughter, if she were within hearing.
Then she returned to the house and tried to accept Aunt Sally's theory
that, likely some of them 'boys' is in trouble about his job, and
wants his 'captain' to go oversee. 'Mazin' strange, Gabriella, what a
influence that child has over 'em. "They 'pear to think, the whole lot
of 'em, that she can straighten out all the kinks that get into brains
or business."
"She is quick to understand," said the mother, proudly.
"Course. Nothin' strange, is it, seeing who her folks was? Best go
take a nap, honey."
"Oh, no! Thank you for suggesting it, but I'm too wakeful."
"Well, then, I'll fetch them kerns and citron right out here on the
kitchen porch. The sun's off it now, and there ain't a prettier spot
on earth where to prepare Christmas fixin's. I'll fetch the raisins
and stone 'em myself. That Pasky boy'd eat more'n half of 'em, if I
left 'em to him. Then we can visit right sociable; and I can free my
mind. The truth is, Gabriella Trent, that I ought to be harnessin'
Rosetty an' Balaam this minute, and be startin' for 'Boston.'"
"Oh, Aunt Sally!" protested the ranch mistress, in real distress.
"There, dearie, hush! Don't worry. I said 'I ought,' I didn't say I
was goin'. Seem's if I couldn't just tear myself away from Sobrante.
If Sarah Ma'sh, she that was a Harrison, and married Methuel, hasn't
got gumption enough to bile her own plum puddin', I 'most feel as if
she'd ought to go without. Though I don't know as that's real
Christian in me."
"Dear Mrs. Benton, I wish everybody was as sincere a Christian as you
are."
In her surprise, Aunt Sally tipped her rocker so far back that she
just escaped upset.
"Why, Gabriella Trent! Me! Me! Don't say that, and make me feel
meaner'n dirt. It's you, honey, is that----"
Mrs. Trent laughed as she answered:
"We make a mutual admiration society, don't we? But Aunt Sally, you
mustn't think of leaving Sobrante before the holidays are past. I
can't spare you. I need the help of your head, as well as your hands,
and what would Christmas be to the children, if you weren't here to
cuddle and scold them after their greediness has made them ill."
"Well, well, child, say no more. Here I am, and here I'll stay, if
Sarah Ma'sh don't get a stiver of pudding or fowl. Here, honey, I
reckon you best slice this citron. You've got a dainty hand for such
work and--my sake's alive! That fruit cake'd ought to been made weeks
ago, if it was to get any sort of ripeness into it before it was et!
Hurry up, do. We haven't a minute to waste."
This adjuration had the good result of amusing Mrs. Trent so that, for
an hour at least, she forgot to be anxious over her daughter's
unexplained absence. Aunt Sally was a person who was always "driven to
death" by the mere thought of tasks for which there was, in reality,
ample time. But now that she had decided to remain at the ranch for a
further indefinite stay, her spirits rose and her brain busied itself
with a thousand plans for the comfort or amusement of the household,
over which she domineered, yet so ardently loved.
"We haven't got much money for presents, I know. So I'll just get out
the piece-bag to-night, and press off them canton flannel scraps.
They'll make splended ducks for the youngsters----"
"I fear that would be wasted labor, friend. The little lads have
outgrown homemade toys. Nothin that will not make a noise is
acceptable to them. I'd thought of sending over to Marion for drums
and whistles, if the stores there can furnish them."
"Well, Gabriella Trent! I declare you are the benightenest woman that
ever set out to raise children! Drums! For them two? My, my! But what
won't a mother do for her little ones, I'd like to know!"
The words were no sooner out of Mrs. Benton's mouth than she regretted
them. At the name of "mother" Mrs. Trent's forced gayety vanished, and
she lifted her eyes to her companion's face with a pitiful appeal.
"Aunt Sally, what has happened to Jessica?"
"Nothing, honey. Nothing in the world. What a master hand you are to
worry."
The lady rose so hastily that the dish upon her lap slid to the floor,
and the other laughed:
"There, Gabriel, you do beat all. If I'd dropped that dish 'twould
have upset, and every slice of citron in it rolled whithrety-yonder.
But for you--it knew better; just slipped off as slick as could be,
landed right side up, and not a morsel scattered. Seem's if dirt nor
nothin' disorderly ever could come a-nigh you, honey."
Mrs. Trent did not even hear. Upon her face had grown a look that hurt
Aunt Sally to see; the more because the feeling it expressed was
continually increasing within her own heart.
Where could Jessica be? Many hours had passed since she vanished from
the laundry window, and if she had gone upon any errand for her
"boys," she would have returned long since. Also, she would be swift
to restore the missing clothes of the little boys, as soon as found,
for she knew they would be prisoners within doors till she had done
so.
"Don't you worry, I tell you, Gabriella. I'll take the great horn and
blow a blast will fetch the whole kerboodle back here, hot foot. If
that don't, I'll ring the mission bell! That'll mean trouble, sure
enough, and its dreadful racket'll reach clear to Los Angeles,
'pears."
The mother crossed to the lattice and leaned against its post.
Something was wrong with her darling. She knew that as well as if she
had been told so by word of mouth, and a dreadful numbness stole over
her whole frame. As if in a dream, she saw Aunt Sally emerge from the
lean-to, where the great horn was kept, and raised the thing to her
lips; but the blast which followed seemed to have been ringing in her
ears forever. The silence that succeeded lasted but a moment, yet was
like an eternity. Then from one direction, and another, came the
ranchmen, understanding that there was need of their presence at the
"house," and each quickly catching something of the fear so plainly
depicted upon the faces of the waiting women.
"John Benton, where's 'Lady Jess'?" demanded Aunt Sally, with terrible
sternness.
"Why, mother, how should I know? I was off to the lemon house early,
fixing some shelves. I haven't seen her to-day and it makes it a long
one."
Came "Marty" from his garden, a hoe over one shoulder and a mighty
vine of ripened tomatoes over the other, exclaiming:
"How's this for a second year's growth? I thought you'd like 'em for
catsup, Aunt Sally, and what's the horn for?"
"George Ceomarty, where's the 'captain'?"
"I don't know."
"You don't! You don't!" indignantly.
"No. How should I? Last I saw, she was sitting the porch along with
you. You needn't glare at me so, but say yourself: 'Where's the
"captain"?'"
"Come, gardener, this ain't a time for foolin'."
He disdained to answer, reading the anxiety upon his mistress' face,
and feeling an unaccountable one growing in his own mind.
It was a relief to all when the figure of Sailor Samson came into
view, making for the cottage with those firm strides of his, that
seemed to cover the distance with incredible speed. He was always to
be depended upon in an emergency, and there was good cheer in his
tones, as, having been asked the same question which had greeted his
mates, he tossed back the light answer:
"Why, I don't know just at this minute, but I'll wager wherever she
is, she's doing good to somebody, or finishing up some fellow's
neglected job. Why? Ain't scared of 'Lady Jess,' are you?"
"That's just what we are, herder. She's no hand to run off an' stay
off without tellin' where to; and if she couldn't find the children's
clothes she'd been back before now to say so. Somethin' dreadful has
happened to the precious girl, and you needn't say there hasn't!"
wailed Mrs. Benton; adding in fresh dismay as the ranch mistress
quietly sank to the floor in a faint! "There! Now I have done it! Oh!
that tongue of mine!"
"Yes, old woman! That tongue of yours' has wrought a heap of mischief
in its day," cried Samson, angrily, as he lifted the fallen lady and
carried her into the house.
But Aunt Sally was quite herself again, and put him coolly aside,
while she ministered to the unconscious ranch mistress, and, at the
same time, gave him a succinct history of the morning's events.
Everybody at Sobrante knew the deep devotion of Lady Jess to her
widowed mother, and the thoughtfulness with which she always sought
to prevent her loved one's "worrying," and all realized that there
might be something seriously amiss in this protracted, unexplained
absence. However, and to a certain degree, the child was allowed to be
independent, and she was liable to reappear at any moment and to gibe
at their "foolish fear" for her. But to summon her, at once, was the
surest way of comforting Mrs. Trent, and Samson went out again to
distribute the assembled ranchmen into searching parties, with the
injunction:
"Don't scare the 'captain' when you find her, but just let her know
her mother needs her, and her dinner's drying up in the oven. Now
scatter; and don't you show a face back here without her in hand!"
"Can't all of us find her, herder. Ain't 'captains' enough to go
'round," said a cowboy, with an ill-attempt at playfulness, which was
instantly frowned down. For, though all assured themselves that there
was no substantial cause for alarm, and that women were "nervous
cattle, always scared at shadders," they had already caught something
of this nervousness. Each felt that the best sight for his eyes at
that moment would be the gleam of a golden head, and the sweetest
music his ears could hear the sound of a young girl's laughter.
But, alas! Daylight gave place to the sudden night of that region,
where no lingering twilight is known; and still over the great ranch
there rested the terrible silence which had followed the loss of one
merry voice.