CONCLUSION
Events crowded one another at Sobrante.
Under the compulsion of his brother's will, so soon as that brother
was able to think of anything beyond his own suffering, Ferd led a
party of the ranchmen, with Ninian Sharp at their head, to the canyon
cave and the pit where the little captain had been imprisoned. They
shuddered as they beheld it; yet could but rejoice that Old Century
had sought her there, and had, so opportunely, revealed its precious
secret. They also took good care to blaze their path as they went, for
it was most intricate and bewildering. They had the curiosity to test
the powers of the wonderful staff, which John had carefully fitted
with a new top, and were amazed at its curious behavior, as it
zigzagged over the floor of the almost unsupported. Whatever the
metal, or compound of metals, on the point, it was certainly attracted
by, and indicated the presence of, copper in the earth beneath.
Returning to the house after this trip of exploration, Marty was
promptly mounted upon the "ghost horse" Nero, and sent to Marion with
telegrams for Ninian's expert friends in Los Angeles, and to bring
back the mail. The unhappy animal had been treated to a liberal bath
of gasoline and soap suds, and had come out of it a sort of mongrel;
but with the phosphorus gone from about his eyes and face, and with a
reasonable prospect that he might some day be restored to his
original ebony hue. Yet his spirit seemed broken, as if he had felt
the disgrace of the part he had been forced to play in the late
escapades of Antonio and his fellow-conspirators.
"It's what one might call the irony of fate that the man who caused
the death of Comanche should thus be forced to supply Comanche's place
with his own beloved Nero," commented the reporter, as the messenger
rode away.
"Yes. Things generally do even up in this world, if a body has
patience to wait a spell," answered Samson. "And though I've no love
for him, and wouldn't trust him across this plaza, without watchin', I
can't help pitying poor 'top-lofty,' and thinking he was more fool
than knave. The idee! Them plans and performances of his savor more of
the 'middle ages,' that I've heard about, than of these days. But it
just takes my breath away to think of what Sobrante will be, some
time, if that 'find' in the canyon turns out what we imagine. Why--but
there! No use talking. Wait and see. How long you think before you get
an answer back from the town, tellin' what your friend'll do?"
"Oh! I expect Marty will bring that answer. He's to wait an hour or
two, you know, and give a chance. If Cornell--that's the expert's
name--is in the city, he'll probably come himself by the evening
train. In that case, you and I might drive over to meet him."
"Wh-e-w!" ejaculated the ex-sailor, astonished. "You newspaper fellows
beat the world for hustling, don't you? So quick as that? H'm! If you
fly as much sail as that so sudden, looks like we'd reach port ahead
of time."
"When a thing's to be done--why, do it! If there's copper enough to
pay for mining, why--mine it," answered the other, coolly.
"Young man, mining costs money. Talkin' is cheap," retorted Samson,
sententiously.
"Of course. One must put in a little capital if one expects to get
results, in any business. The money will be found easily enough. Trust
me to see to that. Or my friends and me."
Already the journalist was as eager as possible on this new matter.
His brief rest had restored his overtaxed nerves, and he was more than
ready to push any enterprise that commended itself to his keen
judgment. Now, all depended upon the expert's arrival at the ranch. He
would then be taken in person to examine the discovered vein, and on
his opinion great affairs would depend. Yet Ninian felt that even if
Henry Cornell's opinion was averse, he should not let the subject rest
there. He would consult with others. Mrs. Trent's interests must be
forwarded to the utmost, and no possible chance of her realizing a
fortune lost through any lukewarmness of his own.
Marty duly returned. He brought the expected message from the great
expert, and that gentleman would arrive at Marion by that very
evening's train. He brought, as well, several letters for the ranch
mistress, and these Jessica joyously carried to her as she sat quietly
sewing. Most of them were business communications, which were promptly
read and laid aside, to be answered at once; but there was one which
the mother dropped in her workbasket unopened, though it was the
thickest and plumpest of the lot, and, also, bore the postmark "New
York." In ordinary, all New York mail was the most eagerly read of
all that came; and this fact caused Jessica to exclaim:
"Why, mother, dear! Why don't you read it? Or are you like me when I
have something extra nice for dinner, leaving it to by and by?"
"Yes, darling, I'm leaving it--a while. It will keep. I know what is
in it, or nearly so. It's not the first of the sort has come lately,
and I'll have courage soon."
"Courage, mother? Do you need courage to read your letters? What harm
can come to us now, out of that far away city? My father's name is
cleared, we owe nobody, we--why, we may be going to be very, very
rich, if things turn out as Mr. Ninian thinks they will turn out,
and----Oh, dear! I'm not saying it very clear, only seems to me we
ought to be perfectly, perfectly happy now; and if there's anything
bad in the letter, please give it to me, and let me burn it up right
away."
For answer, the mother caught her daughter close within her arms,
kissed her passionately, and asked:
"Oh, little captain! If you go so far from me, how shall I live?"
"I--go so far--from you!" repeated Lady Jess, in utter astonishment.
"Why, what can you mean?"
Mrs. Trent recovered her composure, even smiled--if not very
gayly--and answered, tenderly: "Whatever come, my sunshine, remember
that, of all things, your mother desires your welfare before her own.
But more than that I cannot tell you now. So, run to Aunt Sally, dear,
and ask if she can be spared from her nursing a few hours. I think one
of the other men will relieve Ephraim, if he is tired, in waiting upon
Antonio. I want she should help me get up an extra fine supper for Mr.
Ninian's friend. Ah! my child, how much we owe to that young man's
goodness and enterprise!"
"Indeed, indeed, we do. But seems to me we do nothing but cook here,
nowadays. It's always company, isn't it?"
"And glad I am of that. So long as the larder has anything in it, I
love to share it with--friends. Not strangers, who do not care, but
with anybody else, the best we have. If a luxury well; and if but a
crust, still well. Now--to Aunt Sally."
Jessica guessed that as soon as she was out of sight the disagreeable
letter from the other side of the continent would be promptly read,
and wondered not a little concerning its contents. And she was right.
Mrs. Trent had barely finished its perusal, when Mrs. Benton appeared,
but from her the mother had nothing to hide. She looked up quietly,
and said:
"Another more urgent entreaty from old Cousin Margaret. She puts the
matter so strongly as my duty that I'm compelled to acknowledge she
is--may be--right."
"Humph! She's been wrong enough, sometimes," returned Aunt Sally,
peevishly. "That's when she got angry with you for marrying Cass'us."
"That was mostly from indignation at losing me, her one loved
relative. There could never have been a kinder guardian----"
"Nor a queerer, as I've gathered from your own talk. I never saw
Margaret Dalrymple, and I never want to. Anyhow, nothin' can be done
at present; but I've brought one comfortin' word across from the
quarters with me, Gabriella."
"What's that, Aunt Sally? Is Antonio better?"
"Oh! bother Antonio. He'll get well, of course. That kind always does.
Of that I never had a misdoubt. The word is this, and I begin to think
that old Fra Sebastian may be a real Christian, after all. He not only
offers, but he says it must be this way: As soon as 'top-lofty' can be
safely moved, he wants him to the sannytarium to his mission. Him and
Ferd, the dwarf, likewise. He says them old Californys all belong to
him, and he will look after them. Antonio is to be in the sanny-house,
and Ferd is to be put into the mission school. Though he's a man in
years, he's a child in learning--'cept evil. So Fra proposes to oust
the evil if he can--I wager he'll find he's got a job--and put in
good. He'll make Antonio earn his keep a-writin' up the books and
accounts, for, with all his silliness, he's a master hand at
figurin'--for himself. So that settles them, and don't you dast say no
to the arrangement when it's perposed to you, Gabriella Trent, or I'll
never let you hear the last of it. It's the Lord's own way of
disposing things, and a better one than I could cipher out, if I do
say it."
Certainly Mrs. Trent had no objection to make to so comfortable a
settlement of a perplexing question; and in due time the Bernals left
Sobrante forever; and of their lives at the mission those whom they
had known so long were henceforth to hear little, "and care less,"
according to the satisfied ranchmen.
Mr. Cornell, the expert, came, inspected, reserved his opinion, and
departed; but Ninian Sharp had gathered enough from the visitor's few
sentences, idly dropped, to feel quite convinced that the thing was
worth carrying farther. So he, too, left Sobrante; but, after a brief
sojourn in Los Angeles, reappeared, in company with Morris Hale and a
trio of prospectors, representing much capital. All this was very
exciting to the simple household; and Mrs. Trent, at least, felt
infinite relief when, on the eve of Navidad, there were left in it
only those two strangers, who had now become less strangers than
familiar friends.
Gathered about the fireside, which the first of the rainy nights made
doubly enticing, the New York lawyer discussed at length the decision
which the prospectors had made. They considered the mine well worth
working. "In fact, I have reason to believe it will turn out one of
the richest in the whole country. They are willing to advance all
money needed upon certain conditions," and he named them.
These seemed extremely liberal and just to both sides, but Mrs. Trent
did not greatly surprise her listeners when she quietly interposed a
clause to the effect that:
"My husband believed in profit-sharing. It was his ambition to put
Sobrante and its various interests into such an operation. I want all
our 'boys' to enjoy the benefits of that which God has given us. They
will contribute their labor and share in its results; share richly if
I can have my will."
"Your will is doubtless law, madam," answered Mr. Hale, courteously.
"And if the mine is worked, I want our dear friend, Ninian Sharp, to
come here and act as its manager, on behalf of the Sobrante side.
He"--she raised her hand gently, as he started to interrupt--"he must
be paid a much larger salary than he could earn upon the staff of the
Lancet, and would have, I hope, sufficient leisure time to use his pen
in other literary work, such as he tells me he has never had the
chance to do."
For the first time in his life, maybe, the alert reporter was taken
off guard, and hadn't a word to say, except the very ordinary one of
"Thank you"; but he said it, bending over the lady's hand, and with
such an expression of delight upon his thin, intellectual face, that
no greater eloquence was needed.
"And now," said Aunt Sally, "it's time to begin that there decorating
which Gabriell' thinks is a part of Christmas. Pasqually's been real
good. He's been up to the dreen, where you planted them calla lilies,
Jessie, and he's fetched a good many bushels. Seven hundred, I guess
he said. And he's cut poinsetty enough to turn us blind with its
redness; and my boy, John, hitched up and went along under the flume
and druv his pushcart back full of the biggest maidenhair ferns and
sweet brakes I ever see. So now, youngsters, set to and trim. Then
we'll hang up our stockings, every one; and I'll give you the nicest
Christmas dinner can be cooked, if I have to cuff Wun Lungy into
basting them turkeys as they ought to be basted. Come, Neddy; come,
little Echo; I saw Santy Claus' wife--that's me, shove a pan full of
gingerbread men into the wall oven, and if they're done, I'll give
each of you a soldier of dough to drive you to bed. Stockings first?
Of course, of course. Why, what would Christmas be without its
stockings? Here's a brand-new pair auntie's knit for you, one a piece;
and if you don't find 'em stuffed with rods in the morning, it won't
be because you don't deserve it, you precious, precious, naughty
little lambs!"
Off went the good creature, a boy on either arm, her patchwork
streaming behind her, her spectacles on the top of her head, and her
ruddy countenance as beaming as if she were, indeed, that mythical
person--Santa Claus' wife.
Oh! what a Christmas followed! With everybody from far and near who
had any claim upon Sobrante hastening thither to share its open
hospitalities; Wolfgang and Elsa, with their "little" six-foot son;
the genial McLeods, Dr. Kimball and his sweet-faced invalid sister,
Louise, for whose benefit he had left their fine Boston home to live
in this lonely, lovely southland. These, and many more, not only came,
but did such justice to Mrs. Benton's and Wan Lung's cookery that, as
she said, next morning:
"Land suz! There ain't scraps enough left to make a decent soup, even!
But never mind, we had a royal time, every single soul of us.
Christmas is over, and I'm glad it's so well over. Now, we can settle
down and rest a spell."
Indeed, there was rest for the household itself, but for Ninian Sharp
and his coadjutors. The mining scheme was rapidly put into practical
operation; Mr. Hale lingering all that winter to further its
interests, and to enjoy what he had coveted early in his acquaintance
with it, a few months of ranch life at ideal Sobrante.
Then came the glorious springtime, when the mesa was alive with
flowers; the canyon was fragrant with perfume, and the whole
countryside became an earthly paradise. The springtime, when the
Easterner could no longer delay his homeward trip, nor Mrs. Trent the
revelation of what her New York letters had contained, though Jessica
had almost forgotten them.
One week before the lawyer was to leave them, mother and child sat,
hand in hand, beside the father's grave, whither the widow had
purposely withdrawn, as if the precious dust within might still
support and counsel her. Taking the little captain's hand in hers,
and speaking as calmly as if her heart were not desperately sad, she
said:
"My darling, when Mr. Hale goes home to New York you will go with
him."
"Mother! Oh! Why?"
"Because it is right. My Cousin Margaret, whose letters you have seen
me read, sometimes with ungrateful tears, offers you a home and an
education. She was a mother to me in my youth, and I owe her much. Now
that she is old and desolate, she begs for you. It may be that I
should still have declined to please her at so much pain to--us, but
the discovery of this copper mine of ours, and the fact that you will
one day be one of America's richest daughters, forces me to comply."
"But, why, mother? Why should that matter? I'd rather give it up. Say
no! Oh, please, say no!"
"I cannot now. I dare not. Upon your dear shoulders will rest a great
trust and responsibility. You must be fitted to discharge that trust
by the best education possible. This education you cannot gain here.
You must seek it elsewhere. We must not make it harder for each other,
this bitter parting, but we must bear it bravely for--father's sake."
Thus ended Jessica's early childhood; and of what befell her in that
widely different life at school it must be left to another volume to
relate.