THE ARRIVAL AT THE HOUSE PARTY.
"I CAN'T call you Olilie, it is too long and too funny a name," Frieda
announced.
The four girls were being driven over to the Simpson ranch in a big
wagon, which was used in the spring as one of the mess-wagons at the
round-up, when the cowboys brought in the stock to be branded.
Jack sat on the driver's seat with Jim; Frieda, Jean and Olilie were on
piles of straw in the back. There was a big, rusty valise between them
which contained the entire wardrobe of the four members of the house
party from Rainbow Ranch.
Jean and Jack had even fewer costumes than usual, for they had divided
their belongings with the Indian girl, and the valise was the very same
one that Mr. Ralston had brought across the prairies with him fourteen
years before. It had never dawned on the girls that it was shabby and
old-fashioned looking, as they had never traveled more than a few miles
from the ranch and knew nothing of stylish suit cases and leather
hand-bags.
Jack screwed her head around at Frieda's words: "I wonder if you would
mind our calling you Olive, instead of Olilie," she suggested. "It is
ever so much easier to say, and I have always thought Olive a perfectly
beautiful name. Besides you seem like a wild olive, you are so pretty
and Spanish-looking." Jack spoke carelessly, not dreaming that the
young, captive girl had conceived the deepest devotion to her. Olilie
was grateful to Jean and Frieda for their kindness to her, but as long
as she lived she would remember that it was Jacqueline who had put her
arms about her and brought her to the ranch house on the day she had
decided that she could bear life with old Laska no longer. Olilie was
too shy to show what she felt, but Jack was to find it out some day in a
wonderful way.
"I shall be very glad to have you call me, Olive," she answered, in the
musical tones that surprised everybody acquainted with the guttural
sounds the Indians make in trying to speak English.
Jim turned to stare back of him. He was very much displeased with this
latest escapade of the ranch girls, and had no idea of giving his
consent to their keeping this girl. Already he had ridden over to tell
Laska and Josef that they could have her back in a few days. Frieda and
Jean were treating this Indian wench like a sister, and a stop had to be
put to their nonsense. Jim swallowed hard as he caught sight of Olilie
whom he had seen but a few times before to-day: "Kind of wish the girls
had never run across this one," he muttered to himself. "They have got
plenty to do to take care of themselves."
Olilie looked to-day as you would imagine a gypsy maiden appeared long
years ago in her own land of Romany. She had on a faded blue gown of
Jean's and a cape of Jack's; her hair was parted in the middle, like
Jack's and Frieda's and plaited in two braids, coming way down over her
low broad forehead. Her eyes were long and narrow, of a clear burning
black, her skin a dark olive and her color spread all over her cheeks
instead of centering in single, bright patches.
"Jack," Jim whispered, "don't you say too much at the Simpson's about
keeping this Indian girl at Rainbow Ranch and don't you be telling
anything at this house party about what is worrying us. What we want to
do is to keep mum and fight our own battles; if we get the Indians
against us, the cattle and horses will disappear faster than they are
going now."
There were at least a dozen young people, the sons and daughters of the
most prosperous ranchmen in that part of Wyoming, scattered all about
the front of the Simpson ranch house when the girls drove up in their
old wagon. An automobile stood in front of the door, for Mr. Simpson was
an up-to-date cattleman and rode around his vast place in a sixty
horse-power machine, instead of on the back of a shaggy broncho.
"Hurrah for the Ranch Girls of Rainbow Lodge!" some one shouted. Jack
and Jean and Frieda waved their hands, but Olive was too frightened to
stir.
The girls tumbled out of the wagon one over the other, trying to speak
to all their friends at once. People did not see each other every day
out West as they do in smaller places, and a house party like Mrs.
Simpson's was a notable event.
Frieda kept tight hold on Olive, knowing that she was feeling shy and
the little girl was glad to have a companion herself, as most of the
other young people were older.
Mrs. Simpson stared curiously at her unknown visitor. Then she patted
her kindly. "Laura does not see that you have come," she explained to
the little group.
Jack and Jean glanced up at one end of the long veranda. Laura could
plainly see their arrival. But she made no effort to welcome them. She
was talking to two boys.
"Children, perhaps I ought to have told you," Mrs. Simpson whispered, "I
simply had to invite Dan Norton and his guest to our house party, for
Laura likes Dan better than any one she has met in the neighborhood. And
I don't approve of you girls carrying on an old feud simply because your
father and Dan's were enemies."
Jack had her head in the air and her cheeks were scarlet. Jean openly
rebelled: "You ought to have told us, Aunt Sallie, you know we have a
perfect right to hate those Nortons," she murmured.
"Of course we will be as polite as we know how," Jacqueline agreed. But,
Mrs. Simpson frowned; she knew Jack's high temper and she feared there
would be a clash between her and Dan before the house party was over.
"How do you do, Miss Ralston, and Miss Bruce and Frieda," Laura Post
said frigidly, holding her hand so high up in the air to shake hands
that it almost touched her nose. "I suppose you know Mr. Norton and his
guest, Mr. Kent." Laura had not paid the least attention to the
existence of the Indian girl. Olilie might have been a wooden image.
Jack bowed coldly as though she were speaking to perfect strangers. But
Jean's brown eyes laughed and Frieda held out her hand innocently to
Frank Kent: "I am awfully glad to see you again," she said. "See, things
are quite all right so far. We still have our new friend with us."
Jack could not help flashing a grateful look at Frank Kent. He came over
at once and bowed in his best English fashion to Olive, and then stood
by her while the others were talking.
"There goes the latest addition to the wonderful maidens who are running
their own ranch," Laura breathed in an undertone to Dan Norton, as the
newcomers moved toward the door to go to their rooms.
Dan laughed. "Their ranch, did you say? We have a different idea over at
our place as to whom Rainbow Ranch belongs. Those girls are a bit too
sure of themselves; I expect to see their pride taken down a peg or two
some day."
"What do you mean?" Laura whispered excitedly, her cheeks getting pinker
and her eyes sparkling from curiosity.
Dan shrugged his shoulders and waited until he was sure that Frank could
not hear him. "Oh, we don't talk about it much out here; remember I am
telling you this in the strictest confidence," he went on. "But Rainbow
Ranch actually belongs to my father and me. You see, it is like this:
Father came to Wyoming before Mr. Ralston did. And father and some
friends laid claim to the best part of the Ralston ranch. Mr. Ralston
says he bought the ranch from father's friends and father says he had
already purchased their part. So you understand the mix-up. But the
bully thing is, that since Mr. Ralston's death the girls have never been
able to find his title to the property. They haven't a sign of a paper
to prove they are the owners of Rainbow Ranch. Court records did not
use, to be kept very well in Wyoming. We are not sure about it, but
father is working quietly. Some day we will bring suit and just take
possession of their place; won't it be corking? Rainbow Ranch is right
next ours, and when we get it we will have the biggest ranch in this
part of the state. If you stay out here long enough, you may see some
fun."
Laura nodded eagerly. She did not like the ranch girls, besides she was
one of the disagreeable persons who dearly love to see other people in
hot water. She did not mind how much it hurt them so long as it did not
affect her. "No, I will never tell anybody what you have told me," she
agreed confidentially. "Only if anything should develop, you will be
sure to tell me about it, won't you?" she begged.