AN UNFORTUNATE DISCUSSION
"BUT why won't either Jean or Frieda come with us?" Olive asked a week
after the unfortunate accident at the Rainbow Mine. With a surprise that
she did not pretend to hide Jack Ralston turned to look at her friend.
"I thought I had explained to you, dear," she protested, "that Jean said
she felt it her duty to write a long letter of sympathy to the Princess
Colonna. You see she only heard yesterday of the death of the old Prince
and though she does not feel that the Princess will be exactly
inconsolable (he was so much older and they thought so differently about
many things), yet of course Jean has to say that she is dreadfully sorry
and is there anything she can do and all that. It would not surprise me
in the least if the Princess came west and made us a visit. I told Jean
to invite her. She was born in this part of the country and I rather
think she will be glad to get away from Rome while she is in heavy
mourning. It is a pity she did not have a son, isn't it? The title will
have to go to her husband's nephew, Giovanni Colonna. You remember he
and Jean were such good friends."
But although the two girls were walking along side by side toward the
stables back of the Rainbow Lodge, it was plain that Olive Van Mater was
not listening with any real interest to what her companion was saying.
"Then why won't Frieda ride with us?" she expostulated. "I am sure it
has been ages since we four girls had a long ride together and it is a
wonderfully beautiful morning. What has become of Frieda lately
anyhow--I almost never see her except at meal times?"
With a laugh Jack Ralston laid her arm lightly across her friend's
shoulder.
"Poor Olive, to have only my poor society! But, dear, we have not had
but one other ride together, the one that we took to the Indian village
soon after your arrival. Does it bore you so dreadfully to have only me
as a companion? You must not come with me then, simply because I asked
you. I can get one of the boys to ride over the ranch with me; perhaps
Carlos would be willing to do that much! I don't know what has happened
to Frieda, but the child is making a perfect martyr of herself. That
poor young Professor seems not to wish anyone to do things for him
except Frieda or Ruth. You know he perfectly hates the sight of the rest
of us. And as Ruth is so busy with Jimmikins and the house she can't
nurse him a great deal. So he just lies in his room, which is Frieda's
by the way, and moans and groans until Frieda comes to amuse him. What
do you think I beheld our baby doing the other day? Reading him some
dreadful article on Egyptian Hieroglyphics from a learned magazine. She
hadn't the faintest idea what it was all about and she looked like a big
yellow butterfly imprisoned in a dark place. I am sure I am awfully
sorry the erudite young professor had to break his right leg in the
depth of Rainbow Mine and that we have him on our hands for six weeks or
more--almost as sorry as he is I expect. Still I am not going to have
Frieda sacrificing herself to him much longer. I mean to tell her
tomorrow that it is quite unnecessary. He is a dreadfully spoiled
person."
"But wouldn't Frank have enjoyed this long ride with you this morning,
Jack?" Olive repeated, still refusing to take any interest in what Jack
was saying, but instead clinging obstinately to her own train of
thought. "I am sure Jim would have let Frank off from the trip with him
if he had known that you had to take this long ride to hunt up the lost
mares and colts."
Jack nodded, but her expression was hurt and puzzled. "Of course Jim
would have let Frank come with me or would have come himself if he had
known of the trouble. But both Jim and Frank were away before I heard of
the loss. Besides, it does not make any difference, for I am sure I have
ridden over Rainbow Ranch looking up our lost horses and cattle ever
since I was fourteen or fifteen years old. But if you think the ride may
be too long for you, please don't come, Olive. I shan't be in the least
hurt if you don't feel like it. Kiss me good-by and go back to the
Lodge. Ruth will be overjoyed at your return and I'll be perfectly all
right with Carlos."
But although Jack Ralston spoke so cheerfully and in such good temper
she was not truthful in pretending that Olive's present attitude was not
hurting her feelings. The truth is that she felt that Olive had not
been exactly the same toward her since Frank Kent's arrival. And if Jack
had needed any further proof to add to her past conviction this was
sufficient. Always before, Olive had loved her better than any one else,
even more than she did her friend, Miss Winthrop. And Jack was certain
that she had done nothing to make Olive angry or to wound her--she
herself was so utterly unchanged in her own affection.
What a hopeless, horrid puzzle it all was and of all persons was not
Jacqueline Ralston the most inadequate for straightening it out? She had
no methods but those of frankness. If only she dared ask Olive how she
actually felt.
But Olive would hardly have been able to explain to her, because in
these last few weeks the girl had not understood herself. Before Frank
Kent's coming to the Rainbow Lodge she had been sure of having entirely
recovered from her past fancy for him. Had she not fought it all out in
those final weeks in England when she had realized the extent of Frank's
devotion to Jack and the impossibility of her own position? And
now--well, whatever turn events might take, Olive felt the fault would
be largely Jacqueline's. For why did Jack fail to return Frank's
affection? Why did she continue to treat him with such disregard and yet
keep him lingering on at the ranch? Really Olive wondered if her own
emotion was not now one more of sympathy for Frank and impatience with
Jack. Surely Frank was too fine a fellow from every point of view to be
trifled with. And no one would ever have suspected Jack of being a girl
of such a character.
Olive again looked closely into her friend's face and what she saw there
for the moment disarmed her. Of course she was more angry with Jack than
she had ever dreamed it possible that she could be and yet she had not
meant to wound her over this small question of their having another ride
together to search for lost stock. Perhaps this very morning Jack might
be in a humor to confide in her the cause of her mysterious conduct. She
must have some vital reason, it was so unlike her to be cruel or not to
know her own mind.
"Of course I won't go back to the Lodge," Olive finally protested. "For
I do wish the ride immensely; it was only that I thought it might be a
pleasure for the others too."
And to this half-hearted apology the other girl made no reply.
A few moments later, having arrived at the beautiful new stables built
within the past year at the Rainbow Ranch, Jack and Olive found their
two horses already saddled. And a little while after, finding the Indian
boy, Carlos, at his own tent door, the three of them mounted and rode
away.
Now riding with Jacqueline Ralston over their great thousand-acre
Wyoming ranch to seek for cattle or horses that had gone astray was apt
to be fairly strenuous, and no one unaccustomed to riding should ever
have thought of attempting it. Yet Olive had done the same thing dozens
of times in the years when she had first came to live at Rainbow Ranch,
and on starting out this morning had no idea of growing tired before her
friend did.
The first part of their trip was easy enough, for although Jack cantered
along fairly rapidly she made no detours, only keeping a careful lookout
in all possible directions. For she had no thought of finding the lost
mares and their young colts anywhere within the immediate neighborhood
of that part of the ranch which was apt to be ridden over oftener than
the more distant fields. And Carlos had been asked to make the few
necessary excursions whenever a rise in the landscape or a group of
trees or rocks made a possible hiding place.
But a short time before midday the three riders came to a distant part
of Rainbow Creek, where the character of the ranch land changed and
where there were frequent hummocks and sand hills and great boulders
split into natural caves and canyons. This part of the creek had no
connection with the Rainbow Mine but was sometimes used in an emergency
as a drinking place for the stock, although the stock was not supposed
to wander here without guidance, as there were many ravines and
dangerous places where especially the young cattle or colts were apt to
be injured.
Here the riding under Jacqueline's guidance became more difficult and
fatiguing. For not only did she leave the ordinary beaten trail, but she
made her horse pick his way along what appeared an utterly impossible
track over rocks, in the deep loose sand, now following a partly dry
creek bed and occasionally splashing through water so deep that it
reached almost to her riding boots. For another hour Olive followed,
not realizing her own exhaustion, but wondering why her breath should be
coming in such short gasps and why her back should ache in such an
unaccountable fashion.
Curiously enough it was Carlos who first discovered Olive's predicament.
For the past ten minutes he had been riding as close by her side as was
possible under the conditions, not speaking a single word, but examining
her closely with his small, burning black eyes. And when Olive, without
being conscious of it, turned a shade whiter, even then he did not speak
to her but instead rode silently forward until he was opposite Jack.
"All women have not the strength of men!" he began sullenly. The girl
stared at him in amazement, not guessing what he meant.
Then Carlos grew angry and his words came faster than usual. "If you
think more of lost animals than of her whom you call friend, it is well
that you should go on until she falls. Have I not often heard and now
see with my own eyes that there are squaws who care nothing for their
own sex."
Half rising in her saddle Jacqueline Ralston lifted her riding whip, and
almost before realizing what she was doing she had struck the Indian boy
sharply across his lean shoulders.
"You are not to speak of American women as squaws, Carlos. How often
have Mr. Colter and I told you that you were never to do it? And,
moreover, you are to understand that I will not endure your
impertinence. What has happened to put you in so evil a mood?" Jack
asked more quietly now, sorry for her own loss of temper. For she
realized in a small measure just how keenly an Indian feels the
degradation of a blow from an enemy, unless he is able to return it with
increased vengeance. And Jack had no illusion about Carlos' attitude
toward her. He had turned a kind of ashy white under his bronze skin and
his body had quivered once and then become perfectly tense, not from the
force of the blow, which had not cut deeply, but from his own passion.
However, before either the boy or Jack could speak again, Olive had
ridden up between them, grieved and frightened over her friend's action
and wondering what could have occurred between them in so short a time.
"Jack dear, what has Carlos done or said?" she demanded quickly. "It
was not fair of you to strike him, knowing that he could make no
defense."
Instantly Jacqueline Ralston felt her face flushing with a swift rushing
of hot blood to her cheeks until her temples pounded and her eyes
flashed. Never before in their entire acquaintance had she remembered
being really angry with Olive. Yet had she not borne a good deal already
that day and for several weeks beforehand in Olive's indifference and
critical air toward her? Now in this trouble she had just had with
Carlos, Olive was immediately taking the Indian boy's part without even
asking her for an explanation. Nevertheless a second glance at her
friend's face made her instantly control her own emotion, appreciating
at the same time what Carlos' impertinent speech to her had meant.
"You are tired, Olive. I am so sorry," she replied at once, instead of
answering the other girl's question. "I did not realize how hard we had
been riding, or that you are out of practice after a year in New York
while the rest of us were here at the ranch. We'll have luncheon and
rest and then maybe you'll feel better."
Jack nodded curtly to Carlos to assist Olive in dismounting while she
slid off her own horse without help. Then she put her arm about the
other girl, leaving the boy to lead the three horses. In a little while
she and Olive had found a flat rock shadowed by a cliff from the sun.
Here Olive sat down while Jack opened up their luncheon boxes and made
the necessary preparations. But all the time she was reflecting upon
what she had best do or say to the Indian boy. She was sorry that she
had struck him, although still extremely angry at his manner and speech
to her. If Carlos had felt worried over Olive's exhaustion it would have
been simple enough to have told her in a more polite fashion. The truth
was that she and Jim were both getting extremely tired of the Indian
boy's presence on Rainbow Ranch. She would talk over this incident today
with her guardian and ask him if he felt that she owed Carlos an
apology. If he did she would make whatever reparation she could and
after that they would try and find another home for him. But at present
she was still too annoyed to wish to have the boy near her.
"You can find water for our horses and tie them somewhere not far away,
Carlos," Jack ordered, leaving Olive and walking a few yards across the
sand to where the boy stood, still sullen and resentful in his manner.
"Then ride on for another half hour and see if you can find any of the
lost mares or colts. When you return we will have lunch saved for you."
And so Jack Ralston temporarily dismissed the difficulty confronting
her. For in any case it was disagreeable to have Carlos staring at them
while she and Olive ate, and she did not wish him as a companion at
their luncheon.
Carlos' society could hardly have increased the discomfort of their
meal. For Olive was either too weary or too vexed to wish to talk, and
Jack in too strange a tumult of feeling.
Then suddenly, as the two girls were sitting there together in the warm,
caressing sunshine, hardly more than a few feet apart and yet sundered
by leagues of misunderstanding, it seemed to Jacqueline that she could
no longer endure all that she was suffering for her friend, unless Olive
made some sign that her sacrifice was worth while. For Jack made no
effort to hide from herself, however much she concealed it from other
people, that each day of her life she was learning to care more and more
for Frank Kent, for his love and his complete understanding and sympathy
with her temperament. She knew that she had many faults, but she also
knew that Frank was aware of them and forgave them. However, there was
one fault that she did not have and it was not fair that she should bear
the ignominy of it. She would no longer hurt and confuse the man she
cared for by her apparent inability to make up her mind.
Jack's full red lips closed more tightly than was usual to them as she
lifted her head, showing the firm line of her throat and chin. Then she
took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and glancing with her
wide open, heavily fringed gray eyes directly into the eyes of her
friend.
Olive was more rested, was less pale, but was evidently still as much
estranged from her. And though the conviction had come upon her
suddenly, Jack felt convinced that this was the appointed moment when
she must wrest the truth from the other girl. She hated herself for her
own stupidity in not finding out by more subtle means and scarcely knew
now what she intended to do or say. It was as if she stood on the bank
of an icy stream with the shore of truth on the other side, a shore
which by some method she must reach. Therefore, with Jacqueline
Ralston's disposition, there appeared but one means. Boldly she must
plunge in, no matter what the result.
"Olive dear," Jack began abruptly, not looking at her friend, but at a
small smoke-colored cloud over in the western sky, "I know you are angry
with me about Carlos and I am sorry. He was impertinent, but I don't
suppose you would think that justifies what I did. But it is not about
what happened just now that I want to talk. You have not felt like you
once did for me for several weeks--not since Frank Kent came to the
Lodge. Would you mind telling me why?"
To Jack's directness of thought and speech her friend by this time
should have grown accustomed. And indeed until now Olive had always
loved and admired Jack for it. But today she was tired and her head
ached and this unexpected question had taken her completely by surprise.
The girl's dark cheeks flushed richly and her ordinarily gentle
expression changed.
"Jack, you are absurd!" she answered irritably. "What right have you
anyhow to consider that my feeling for you has any connection with Frank
Kent? What does Frank mean to me?"
Now if only Jack had been content with this answer or had possessed some
of Jean Bruce's tact and resourcefulness! She had neither. So her gray
eyes darkened and her face grew white and unhappy.
"Forgive me, Olive," she murmured, humbly enough for proud,
high-tempered Jack, "but that is what I, oh, so much want you to tell
me. For sometimes I have thought that perhaps you do like Frank just a
little bit more than an ordinary friend. And if it is true, dear, don't
you feel that we have been close enough to each other to have you make
me your confidant?"
It was very gently put, after all, and therefore Olive should not have
been so wounded or so angry. However, and perhaps because there was so
much of truth in the other girl's suggestion, Olive was both hurt and
embittered.
"You have not the shadow of a right, Jacqueline Ralston, to say a thing
like that to me," she returned with the passion and protest of a too
sensitive nature. "How dare you sit there and calmly suggest to me that
I am in love with Frank Kent when you know perfectly well that he cares
for no one in this world but you. Do you suppose that I have no pride
and no self-respect?"
And then, dropping her head in her hands, Olive began crying, hardly
understanding her own tears, so much were they a combination of pain and
of petulance. For the questions she had just put to Jack were the very
ones that she had so often asked herself. And if she had found no answer
to them, how could any one else?
But Jack did not attempt making a reply. For a moment she was silent,
feeling miserably conscious of the failure she had just made. For had
she not merely succeeded in mortifying her friend without arriving one
bit nearer the truth which she sought?
But by and by Jack laid her hand caressingly on the other girl's dark
hair. "Don't cry, Olive please," she begged. "You know what a stupid
person I am and how often Jean and Frieda think I do and say the wrong
thing. Here comes Carlos and when he has eaten his lunch you must let
him take you back to the Lodge. You are too tired to ride any farther
and I can manage very well by myself, or else you can send one of the
stable boys this way to find me."
Without making a reply Olive continued to sob, only now a little more
quietly, and in the meanwhile allowing Jack to make all the arrangements
for her return home. It was unfortunate perhaps that she also paid so
little attention to the Indian boy, who was sitting within a few yards
of her, pretending to eat. In reality he was either keeping his eyes
fixed moodily upon her, or else turning them upon Jacqueline Ralston
with such an intensity of dislike that had she been aware of it, she
must have been vaguely disturbed.
A little later Olive and Carlos started home together. In farewell Olive
simply nodded her head to Jack, showing no other sign of forgiveness or
affection; but she had only ridden for a comparatively short distance
when she was as bitterly sorry and as ashamed of herself as Jack had
previously been, and at the moment would have liked to turn back. She
realized that she had been both unreasonable and unkind. What could
have been the matter with her? Surely her fatigue must have had
something to do with it, for people were rarely sensible when
over-tired. Jack had not intended breaking down the barrier of her
reserve for no reason but idle curiosity.
Then suddenly Olive's hands tightened on her bridle reins and her black
eyes softened. How unutterably blind she had been for so long! For was
not Jack's recent question to her the keynote of the whole puzzling
situation? Jack certainly must fear that she cared more for Frank than
she should. Would this not perfectly explain her attitude toward him
since the beginning of his love-making? Olive quickly recalled the final
weeks of their visit in England, then Jack's repeated efforts to thrust
her into Frank's society and so to evade him herself! Then since Jack
Ralston's return to the ranch had she not resolutely refused to let
Frank Kent come to see her until Olive was also at the Lodge?
Sudden and relieving tears rolled down the girl's hot cheeks, which she
did not for the moment attempt wiping away. How like her quixotic Jack
to refuse to accept her own happiness at the price of her friend's! And
how near she, Olive, had come to permitting Jack to sacrifice all three
of them to her mistaken sense of loyalty and love!
Well, tonight Olive intended straightening everything out by answering
the inquiry to which she had refused to reply to before. For in the
light of her present revelation had she not at last felt a weight
lifting itself from her own heart and a clear vision come to her mind?
Let her measure her affection for Frank Kent by that which she felt for
Jacqueline. Why she loved Jack a hundred times better than she ever
could Frank! Jack had been her first friend: all that she was she really
owed to her. If only she did not have to wait an hour longer before
making three persons happier than they had been in many weeks!
Half-way around Olive turned her pony's head. But no, she was too tired
to go back to Jack and besides they could have no intimate conversation
under the present circumstances. Moreover, it had been growing much
warmer in this last half hour, in spite of the fact that every once and
a while there were unexpected gusts of wind blowing the sand into her
own eyes and her mare's. The truth was that she should never have
consented to leaving Jack. She should have insisted on her going home at
the same time with them. Ruth and Jim Colter would both be annoyed at
the idea of Jack's riding about the ranch alone, and any one of the men
whom she might send back to look for her would probably be several hours
in searching and perhaps never discover her at all.
For the first time in half an hour Olive Van Mater glanced across at the
boy, Carlos. He had not spoken a dozen words to her in the course of
their trip, so how could she dream that all this while he had been
turning over and over in his mind the bitterness of Jack's insult? Then
not only was his animosity a personal one, but on coming back from the
needless errand upon which he had been driven away, had he not found his
one time Princess in tears and such sorrow that she had not yet ceased
from grieving? Her trouble could have but one source. Perhaps Miss
Ralston had even dared wound her in the same way that she had him! And
then Carlos had clenched his teeth, continuing more rigid and doggedly
quiet than before. For of course he should soon be revenged for both of
them! The only thing was to wait until his opportunity came.
"Carlos," Olive said unexpectedly. "I am almost back at the Lodge now
and will have no difficulty in going the rest of the way alone. But I
wish you would go and find Miss Ralston. Tell her please to come home at
once, that I want to speak to her about something most important. And I
think you had better hurry, for I am a little bit afraid that a storm is
coming up."
Possibly Olive had expected a demur. If so she was mistaken, for without
replying the boy wheeled his horse and started back in the direction
from which they had just come.