THE TEST
The morning of the day opened in a flame of rose and gold.
Sitting up in bed with the first rays of light, Jeanette Colter found
her hands clasped tight, her lips set, before realizing the cause.
Afterwards she smiled, but without any especial appearance of mirth.
"I wonder why I am so determined to win?" she asked herself half
aloud, dropping back again on her pillow. She hoped to go to sleep for
another hour if possible, or if not to sleep at least she would relax
completely, so as not to be overtired.
Breakfast would not take place until eight o'clock. Afterwards they
would motor over to the Club grounds.
If Jeanette's body relaxed, her mind did not.
"Absurd of me even to consider winning!" she murmured. "Not only is
my stepmother ten times more skillful a horsewoman than I, but there
are a dozen other women riders with more experience. I am years the
youngest, although, thank goodness, there are two other girls who have
entered the contest, one eighteen and one seventeen!"
Then for an hour Jeanette slept fitfully.
When she came down to breakfast in her riding-habit she was later than
any one else.
She was wearing a dark-blue cloth suit with a short coat and skirt,
knee trousers and dark-brown leather leggings. The short skirt would be
removed when the race began.
Jeanette discovered the room filled with people. Half a dozen outside
guests were having breakfast with the family.
They were discussing the various events of the day.
Jeanette walked over to her stepmother. She had finished eating and was
before an open window with John Marshall and Cecil Perry beside her.
Both young men were her admirers.
Jeanette admitted to herself that she was looking extremely handsome.
Her riding costume was similar, save that it was a golden-brown cloth
with the coat and skirt slightly longer.
The two suits had arrived at the ranch only the day before. Jeanette's
had been a surprise gift from her stepmother. On arising that morning
she had found the entire outfit on a chair beside her bed.
"I want to thank you for my new habit," Jeanette began as cordially as
possible. Inwardly she was annoyed that the present had been bestowed
upon her by her stepmother rather than her father, whose idea it should
have been.
Jack flushed and smiled.
"Oh, don't thank me, please, Jeanette, I don't like being thanked, as I
never know how to show when I am grateful."
She then moved forward to speak to their neighbors, Senator and Mrs.
Marshall and Peter Stevens. They were at this moment entering the
dining-room door which opened on to a broad veranda.
"We have stopped by to wish you good-luck, Mrs. Colter," Senator
Marshall remarked. He was a middle-aged man, the father of the younger
man who was a friend and frequent visitor at the Rainbow Ranch.
Jack extended her hand. She looked very like the girl, Jacqueline
Ralston, whom her old friends remembered and loved.
"I am so glad to see you, but please don't wish me good-luck; Jeanette
must win, if either of us has the good fortune. She has been learning
to be a better rider than I am.
"Do try and persuade my husband to be more cheerful. After agreeing to
allow Jeanette and me to enter and showing a proper interest in our
training, this morning he is suddenly depressed. I don't believe he has
ever appeared more so save during the months when I ran for Congress
and you were so impolite as to defeat me, Peter Stevens."
As his wife concluded the greeting of her three additional guests, Mr.
Colter came forward.
"I do feel a surprising antagonism to Jeanette's and Jack's riding
against each other in to-day's contest. I know it is too late now
to offer any objection and not fair to be discouraging. But I don't
believe I realized until this morning how large the number of
spectators would be. It is a wonderful day and no one will remain at
home."
Jack laughed and placed her arm on her husband's arm.
"Why should you mind our being rivals in the race if we do not? Neither
do we seriously object to the size of our audience."
A quarter of an hour later a line of automobiles and of open carriages
were on their way to the Club grounds. The motors far outnumbered the
others, nevertheless there were a few carriages drawn by handsome
horses. Other vehicles, less impressive, were being pulled along by
smaller Western ponies, broken for driving as well as riding.
In their own car Jeanette sat facing her father with Lina on one side
of her and Eda on the other. Via was between her stepmother and father.
In the midst of her own strong effort to appear indifferent, Jeanette
was aware of the unusual gravity of her father and also of her younger
sister's white seriousness. But then Via was always apt to catch other
people's moods and more than usually sympathetic with her father.
Halfway to the club, Jeanette found her father's glance catching her
own.
"You will be careful to-day, Jeanette? Promise me? If anything should
happen to you I should feel responsible. You are too young for such an
experience. Won't you simply try to ride as well as possible but make
no effort to win? In any case it would be out of the question."
Via touched her hand.
"Please promise, Jeanette. I am anxious about you too," the younger
girl pleaded.
A low burst of laughter came from Cecil Perry, who was seated next the
chauffeur. It may not have borne any relation to the conversation which
he was overhearing, nevertheless it irritated Jeanette, whose nerves
were less under her control than she appreciated.
Observing that her sister did not intend to reply, Lina made a hasty
remark to fill the breach.
In spite of the fact that the entire audience had been invited, there
were many spectators crowding the grounds.
Overhead the sky was a thick, warm blue, while from across the prairies
the midsummer wind blew sweet and strong.
Jeanette stood close beside her father, feeling a keen desire to
apologize to him for her attitude since his marriage. She would abandon
entering the race at this last moment if he so desired.
Suppose she should be regarded as a coward, after all what did this
matter?
At present there was no time for discussion. A group of friends came
hurrying toward them and soon Jeanette found herself separated from her
father. Fifteen minutes later she and her stepmother were beside their
horses talking to the men who had brought them over from the Rainbow
Ranch.
Jeanette laid her hand for a moment against her horse's nose. He was
quivering with an excitement keen as her own and as poorly concealed.
Her stepmother was to ride a horse which had been presented her by
her husband before their marriage. Jeanette's was not her own, but
one she had chosen from among the ponies on the Rainbow Ranch. On
ordinary occasions she had never been permitted to use him, as he was a
singularly spirited and beautiful animal. During the weeks of training
for to-day's event she had ridden no other mount.
The next three-quarters of an hour Jeanette remained in her place
watching other exhibitions of skill. Upon former occasions she had
been entranced by the same kind of spectacle, but at present found it
difficult to feel more than a passing interest.
Once she managed to reach a certain degree of enthusiasm, when Billy
Preston, one of the assistant managers of their own Rainbow Ranch,
received the first prize for the finest exhibition of skill in subduing
one of the unbroken Western ponies.
Then Jeanette's interest lapsed until a few moments before her own
contest.
No one who has not lived in the West may be able to understand
Jeanette's point of view, nor that of her family and friends.
The capital of the state was the largest city she had ever seen in her
life. Wyoming was an outdoor state. The people of the state took the
deepest interest in outdoor sports which were an especial feature of
the ranch life and training. There was nothing out of the way in the
fact that Jeanette and Mrs. Colter and a dozen other women and girls
were to take part in one of to-day's riding events.
Jeanette took a final long survey of the field.
They were not to ride around an ordinary track. Their race would be
across the open field. In the vista she could observe small ditches
that must be successfully jumped, an occasional fence of the height
usual in the Western ranch to prevent the straying of the cattle. In so
far as possible the course had been made to appear like a stretch of
land across the prairie country with only such obstacles as might be
encountered in a day's ride.
The effort lay in the fact that the ride must be made before a group of
critical and interested spectators and with other contestants.
Jeanette glanced toward her stepmother. How undisturbed she appeared,
as if the race ahead of them was only the most ordinary amusement, of
no greater or less importance than any game played with friends!
A moment Jeanette envied her coolness and then felt a sense of pity.
This it must mean to grow old. One felt neither enthusiasm nor
excitement. One should not envy such a state of mind or being.
When their race was announced Jeanette noticed her stepmother lean over
and whisper to her father. He nodded and smiled, but never lost his
grave, almost anxious air.
Jeanette only waved her hand to him in farewell.
He did not go down with them, where their horses were in waiting. John
Marshall and Cecil Perry were their escorts.
The fourteen contestants stood laughing and talking together, Jeanette
appearing like a little girl among them.
"You deserve to win, Jeanette, for your courage," Mrs. Markham, one of
Jeanette's old friends, murmured. "I am afraid with your stepmother
as a rival, none of us has a chance. I have never ridden with her, but
have always been told she was the best horsewoman in Wyoming."
Jeanette happily had no chance to reply. A bell was ringing and a
moment after they stood listening to the rules of their race.
The prize would be awarded the first rider who reached the goal on the
opposite side of the field and returned across the same course. There
was to be no avoiding of the ditches and fences. The riders were not to
impede one another beyond the rules which they understood.
Jeanette was scarcely able to listen attentively, as she knew
beforehand what was required.
At a signal the riders were off.
An instant Jeanette found herself beside her stepmother.
"You will be careful, Jeanette. Don't take unnecessary chances," she
said half in words, half in the expression of her eyes.
Jeanette set her lips. She had no time to think and no chance even to
nod her head.
Her pony was passing easily ahead of her stepmother and was nose to
nose with the two riders leading the entire number.
The first ditch Jeanette took easily. Still she raced on ahead, with
the wind singing in her ears, her heart beating quickly and happily.
She was doing as well as the best of the other riders. Her stepmother
was not among them.
Five minutes after Jeanette found herself moving along with one other
woman in the lead. The third rider's horse had refused to take the last
fence and she was dropping out.
Jeanette and her companion arrived first at the goal on the opposite
end of the field. The other woman was ahead, but in the turn, which was
difficult and required skill and courage, Jeanette found herself in the
lead.
Across the field she thought she could hear friends break into cheering.
Jeanette could only take a swift survey of the other riders.
They were not so numerous as at the start. Others had dropped out.
The following moment in a smooth stretch of riding Jeanette heard the
light hoofs of another horse close to her own. Then the horse and rider
passed her. Jeanette recognized her stepmother.
In the midst of her annoyance she could not fail to see that she was
sitting her horse as easily and with as little appearance of fatigue or
strain as she had shown a little time before when talking idly with her
friends.
Jeanette knew that she herself was overexcited by her unexpected
success. She also was growing tired. Her pony might be influenced by
her emotions. She remembered now that her stepmother had advised her
half a dozen times to save her strength till toward the end of the race.
She spurred her pony faster.
An instant of grudging admiration. Her stepmother had jumped one of the
most difficult of the ditches with the same ease and grace with which
she ordinarily rode up to the door in front of their home.
Her heart pounding and her blood beating faster in her ears, Jeanette
followed her example. Her pony was showing fatigue, but gallant as she
herself was.
Before they reached the final ditch two other riders were abreast with
them.
Jeanette felt she would not care so intensely if only some one not in
her own family would win.
She remembered Cecil Perry's farewell good wishes to her stepmother.
He might at least have had the good manners to wish her well, even if
they did not pretend to like each other.
Jeanette was not consciously thinking of this, only of her ride. Her
thought was merely subconscious, her only really conscious thought was
of success. At whatever cost to herself, or her pony, she must win.
The next jump would probably be the supreme test, as beyond lay a
stretch of easy riding.
She could only see the graceful, gallant figure in the brown cloth
riding suit so like her own. She had no sensation of dislike toward
her stepmother at this instant, only the impression that the race was
between them.
Once more Jeanette spurred her pony, passing the others again.
She was nearing the final ditch ahead of all the riders. Close behind
her was the easy patter of the horse and rider with whom she was most
familiar.
Jeanette recognized that her stepmother had followed the plan she had
advised her to pursue. From the beginning she had saved her horse for
the final effort. Neither horse nor rider was in the least overexcited
or tired.
In almost a panic Jeanette headed her own pony for the last jump. An
instant he wavered, then recognizing his own fatigue, he refused to
make the attempt.
[Illustration: THE PONY REFUSED TO MAKE THE ATTEMPT.]
Desperately Jeanette turned her head for a glance behind her.
Her stepmother had risen in her saddle. In another moment she would
clear the ditch.
There was no opportunity for clear thought. Everything that the past
six weeks had developed in her nature must have gone toward the making
of Jeanette's decision. If she could not win, at least she could
prevent her stepmother's easy success.
Directly in the path of the other rider, Jeanette drew her pony. With
any other rider less experienced than Jacqueline Colter the result
would have been a tragedy for them both.
Quick as Jeanette's action, her stepmother's was equally swift. With
her horse poised for a forward leap, Jack brought him instantly to a
standstill. Then without a word, she turned and rode quietly away. She
would make no effort to win. Obviously she had abandoned the idea of
the final jump and was riding toward the end of the course.
A moment, not of regret but of fear, seized Jeanette. She had broken
the rules of the contest. The judges and the spectators must have
observed her action. Disgrace awaited her.
Yet she set her lips until her square chin showed an added firmness.
She would go through to the end. Her stepmother might have spared
her, might have made her action less apparent by attempting the jump
a second time. Afterwards they could have insisted her action was an
accident due to nervousness and to a lack of experience.
A second time Jeanette drove her horse forward toward the fence. This
time he rose and skimmed gracefully across, as gallant and undisturbed
as Jeanette Colter outwardly appeared.
Together they raced on toward the judges' stand. Behind her she could
hear several of the other riders not far away.
Whether or not she had won the race honestly she intended to be first
under the blue ribbon, tied across the field before the judges' box.
As her pony passed under the blue ribbon, there was a sound of applause
from the spectators, then cheering from her neighbors and friends.
Jeanette slid to the ground.
One of the men from their own Rainbow Ranch took hold of the bridle of
her horse.
A moment later and the other riders were standing beside her. Jeanette
had a confused impression that they were congratulating her.
Senator Marshall and Peter Stevens, who were two of the judges, were
coming toward her.
Some one thrust into her hands a big bouquet of roses tied with the
club colors, blue and white.
At this moment Jeanette beheld her stepmother. She had ridden across
the field more slowly than the others.
She got off her horse. Jeanette then saw her father step forward and
speak to her.
In another instant the accusation would follow.
If the judges had not seen what she had done, if the audience was
unaware of her lack of sportsmanship, her stepmother had only to speak.
But her stepmother was leaving the group of riders and going back to
her place beside Lina and Eda and Via.
Her father was coming toward her.
The brilliant flush faded from Jeanette's cheeks. Rather any one else
announce her fault than her father. Worse than any accident that could
have occurred to see him ashamed.
Instead his arm went about her.
"Jeanette, if you only knew how glad I am the race is over and how
proud I am of you!" he exclaimed, disregarding the people about them.
Jeanette put her free hand to her throat, the other held the bunch of
roses. She must speak and confess her fault if no one had seen what
she had done. Useless to pretend it was an accident! It had not been.
Apparently her stepmother did not intend to make any accusation against
her.
"I did not win fairly," Jeanette was about to falter when Senator
Marshall reached her.
"Jeanette, I want to congratulate you. The youngest girl in the racing
contest and the winner! We are proud of you."
Jeanette bit her lips and her color faded.
She could not confess.
All her life she had been taught the rules of the game. This had been
her father's chief effort in bringing up his four motherless daughters.
In whatever they undertook, a game of croquet, tennis, a guessing
contest indoors, the importance of the game was not what counted. One
must always and at all times play fair.
Until to-day Jeanette believed this as sacredly as her father.
Two months before would she have stood silent while Peter Stevens
pinned upon the lapel of her riding coat the prize offered by the club
to its best woman rider? The pin was of sapphires set in silver, the
Indian emblem, the Swastika, the emblem of good luck, inherited from
our primitive ancestors, which has gone round the world.