TWO CONVERSATIONS
"JACK, you have not played fair with me; what is it that has happened?"
Frank Kent asked quietly.
It was an hour since dinner time at the Lodge and Frank had so insisted
upon Jack's taking a walk with him that without rudeness she had not
been able to refuse. It was an enchanting June night, warmer than usual
in that part of the western country, and with a moon that shines perhaps
nowhere on this earth with exactly the same wide radiance.
Jack and Frank had walked down the tall aisles of cottonwood trees near
the house and were now standing a few yards on the farther side of them
in a clear and revealing light. At Frank's words the girl flinched as he
had known that she would. For just that reason he had chosen them, since
nothing could hurt Jacqueline so much or make her come so immediately to
her own defence as any suggestion that she had not played fair. Other
girls might not suffer so greatly from this accusation; but honesty,
candor and a kind of straightforwardness, which some persons are pleased
to think as masculine traits, had always been Jack's leading
characteristics. Now, however, though her companion waited impatiently
for her reproach or her denial, for a moment he heard neither.
"I am so sorry, Frank, that you feel in that way about me," Jack began
finally. Then, almost in a whisper: "I have not intended to be unfair to
you. I--I had not promised you anything."
Jack was not looking into Frank's face as she spoke, but at the silvery
whiteness of the ground beneath her feet.
"But nothing has happened, if you mean that I have become either angry
or disappointed in you," she added timidly.
Difficult as the girl had anticipated this conversation might be, it was
more trying than she had expected.
What could she say? How could she truthfully present the situation to
Frank, as it appeared to her, without putting Olive in an impossible
position? Because in spite of Olive's denial through the message to Jean
at the close of the last Ranch Girls' book, Jacqueline was still firmly
convinced that her friend felt so great an affection for Frank Kent that
it was influencing her whole life. Did it not explain why she absolutely
refused to consider Donald Harmon's proposal of marriage, in spite of
Don's devotion and her grandmother's expressed desire? Moreover, even if
Olive did not like Donald sufficiently well to consider marrying him,
why should she insist that she intended devoting her future to teaching
the Indian children?
To Jack Ralston such a career suggested pure martyrdom. Olive might do
anything else in the world that she liked, even if her grandmother left
her no inheritance. For there was Miss Winthrop, who regarded Olive
almost as a daughter and who would do everything possible for her. She
might have almost any happiness and yet Olive actually talked as if she
meant to do what she had so long said she intended as soon as she was a
few years older and the proper arrangements could be made.
Jack bit her lips until they positively hurt. Actually she felt a shiver
of repugnance at the idea of going away with Frank to every happiness if
her going involved leaving her dearest friend to such a fate. Could she
ever really be happy with this thought in the back of her mind?
No, Jack decided once again that she was far stronger than Olive and
better able to look after herself and to bear, if need be, both loss and
loneliness. Besides, had she not had many joys in the past and Olive for
many years so few? Surely if Olive still cared for Frank, as she
believed, in a little while there need be no further doubt of it. In
that event it must be her duty to tell Frank that she did not love him
and would never consent to leave the ranch for his sake. After that
Frank would undoubtedly turn at once to Olive, who had always been his
friend and upon whose sympathy he could surely count. Olive, too, was so
much prettier, her nature so much gentler and sweeter, she would make a
far better wife. Frank might be angry with her at first, Jack
acknowledged to herself at this moment, but he would be more than
grateful in the end.
Jack laid her hand pleadingly on the young man's coat sleeve.
"Frank," she asked more wistfully than she herself realized, "won't you
promise not to talk about your feeling for me for a time? Won't you just
stay on here with us at the Rainbow Ranch as you used to do and let us
have a happy time together? I am worried about such a number of things.
Perhaps the money in Rainbow Mine is going to give out and we may have
no further income from it. Then there is this strike of our miners. Jim
and I don't say a great deal about it to the others, but we are so
afraid the old men may resort to violence when we try to get things to
running smoothly again and that Ralph or some one else may be seriously
hurt. Don't you see that I just can't think about anything else now?"
"No, Jack dear, I can't honestly see why your having all these worries
and annoyances can affect your knowing whether or not you return my
love. It is not as though I had never spoken of it--you have had a whole
year to decide. But if you wish me to wait longer, of course I shall do
as you ask. Only please don't let it be too long."
Then before the girl could reply she and her companion had both started,
and instinctively Jack clutched at the young man's arm.
The next moment she gave a relieved laugh.
"I don't see why I should jump in that fashion just because we heard a
slight noise behind us," she apologized. "I suppose other people have
just the same right that we have to be outdoors enjoying the moonlight."
Jack then turned around, looking back into the grove of cottonwood
trees. "Jean, Olive, Frieda," she called lightly, but when no one
responded, thinking no more of the incident she moved on a few steps.
"Come on, Frank, let us have a real walk, it is too lovely to go back to
the Lodge so soon. I want to ask you such a lot of questions and about
your mother and father and Kent Place," she pleaded.
Frank's attention was not to be so easily diverted. For several moments
he continued staring at the spot where undoubtedly he had heard the
noise of light footsteps only a few seconds before. The sound had come
from the neighborhood of the trees nearest them; but why did no figure
emerge into the light or move off again in the opposite direction? The
night was so bright and the air so clear that no one could have escaped
without being either seen or heard. But Frank was too interested in the
prospect of a longer time in the moonlight alone with Jacqueline to
waste a great deal more thought upon a possible intruder. Once again he
glanced back, but as no one was in sight, he and Jack were soon deep in
an intimate and happy conversation.
Notwithstanding, neither the girl nor the man were mistaken in their
original impression that some one had been in their neighborhood during
at least a part of their conversation. For when they were both safely
out of sight a slender figure stole from behind one of the largest
cottonwood trees and ran off with the fleetness and noiselessness of a
wild creature. There was an ugly expression on the face--one of
resentment and suspicion and yet of so great unhappiness that the other
emotions might have been forgiven.
For the Indian boy, Carlos, fifteen minutes before had just concluded a
conversation with the only person in the world for whom he felt any real
affection. And foolish and mistaken as his dream had been, it hurt no
less to find it shattered.
A few minutes after dinner, when all the family were together on the
veranda at Rainbow Lodge, Olive had several times noticed Carlos
hovering about in their vicinity, now on a pretence of bringing a
message to Jim Colter which might as easily have waited until morning,
then asking some perfectly unnecessary question of her. And finally with
the persistence and stoicism of his race he had planted himself like a
slender and upright column against a side of the house, deliberately to
wait until he could have his way.
There was not the slightest use of pretending that Olive did not
understand what his intention was. Carlos wished to talk with her,
wished to have an immediate answer to the letter which he had lately
written her. Moreover, she feared that unless she gave in to him he
might show some trace of his feeling before the assembled company.
Quietly Olive slipped over to Ruth Colter.
"Ruth," she whispered, when no one was paying any especial attention to
either of them, "I have something rather important that I must say to
Carlos. He is here now waiting. Do you think it would make any
difference if I go and talk to him for a few moments? We won't go any
distance from the house, just to some place where no one may be
disturbed by us."
And Ruth agreed to the girl's request without considering it seriously.
To the older woman Carlos was only a child, sometimes rather a difficult
one it was true, but at any rate only an idle, mischievous boy, whom the
Ranch girls in their usual impulsive generosity had befriended and in a
measure adopted. But that Carlos should think of himself as a man and
actually have the impertinence to consider himself in love with Olive,
Ruth simply could not have believed had she been told the truth at this
moment.
So Olive, pretending to go to her own room for a scarf, had afterwards
stolen out of a side door and come close up to where the Indian boy was
standing.
"Carlos," she said kindly, "I would rather you did not linger about the
veranda because you wish to speak to me. If you will come away with me
for a little distance we can talk. I received your letter and you want
to know what I think of it?"
Without a word the boy nodded, but he followed the girl for a few yards
until they were standing ankle deep in the shimmering green foliage of
Frieda's violet beds which were not far from the Lodge. And although in
the path a few feet away there was a small bench where the girls often
rested after their work among the flowers, Olive would not consent to
sitting down.
Slowly and patiently as she could, she explained to Carlos the utter
impossibility of his feeling for her. In the first place, he was a boy
while she was a number of years his senior. Then he was completely
mistaken in his idea that because she had been raised among Indian
people she cared for their life or habits. Not for anything on earth
would she return to their simple and primitive existence. Because Olive
was essentially gentle and because her sympathy and understanding of the
Indian boy's nature was a matter of experience as well as kindness of
heart, she did try to take the sting away from the present situation so
far as she could; yet she felt obliged to be firm, for there must be no
repetition of Carlos' foolish letter to her. He must appreciate that she
was fond of him because he had once befriended her in a difficulty, and
that she was grateful and would always be interested in his welfare. But
to care for him in any other fashion was absolutely out of the question.
Never again must he even dare to refer to the subject.
Notwithstanding her resolute attitude and the arguments which she had
used so forcibly, at the end of their conversation Olive did not feel
sure that Carlos was as entirely convinced of the absurdity of his
desire as he should have been. For she had spared him the one course
open to her that might have brought him to his senses--sheer ridicule.
Therefore when Olive was back in her own room alone and undressing for
the night, since she had not felt in the mood for rejoining her friends,
she wondered if she had been altogether wise. Certainly she had not
liked Carlos' manner, and two remarks of his near the conclusion of
their talk had left her very angry.
"It is Miss Ralston who has turned you against me," he had muttered
sullenly. "She don't like me, she don't understand. She thinks I am no
more than a servant about her place. If it had not been for her you
might have stayed always in the wilderness with me when both of us were
children. Then you would never have known of your people nor learned to
love the stupid white man's world. Miss Ralston is my enemy; therefore I
hate her." And with these words Carlos had drawn up his lean, boyish
frame with the majesty of a deposed king.
Olive's sudden wrath had humbled him for the moment at least; yet just
before she turned to go he had said again with equal passion, although
his manner was quieter and more subdued.
"Then if it is not Miss Ralston who has come between us, there is some
one you care for. I wonder if it can be the far-away guest and friend,
who arrived this afternoon by the iron trail of the prairies?"
When Olive did not answer but walked quietly back to the Lodge, Carlos
stood for a time like a bronze statue, silent and unmoving; then swift
as a shadow he threaded his way between the cottonwood trees, actually
observing Jack and Frank from the beginning to the end of their
conversation, although hearing little of what they said.