TROUBLE IN THE AIR
Ruth was really more worried than she would admit and when Viola
appeared at the last minute, looking a bit flurried and out of breath
but as cheerful as usual, Ruth drew a long breath of relief. So far, so
good, at any rate!
Tom attended to all details in his usual business-like manner and Ruth
was grateful to him. The girl could not help wondering at the great
change that had come over him since those days when she used to urge him
to find a useful occupation and stick to it.
For some reason she was feeling oppressed by worries to-day. She had not
felt that way when she got up in the morning. On the contrary, she had
welcomed the thought of Golden Pass and the immediate prospect of
getting to work with all her usual enthusiasm. It must be the problem of
Viola that was worrying her. That mysterious encounter with Charlie
Reid. What could it mean?
However, she felt that once on location with the filming of her picture
started, she would be more contented and lose this disturbing feeling of
unease that had taken possession of her.
At last the long and tiresome trip was over and they had landed with
their belongings on the dismal, almost deserted station of Golden Pass.
She looked to see that all her company were present, from the leading
actor to the humble, but very important, cameramen, and then turned to
Tom with a gesture of weariness.
“I’m so tired, Tom. I’d like to rest for hours and not do a single
thing--not even think!”
Tom smiled at her and promptly gave orders for the removal of themselves
and their luggage to Headwaters Ranch where they were to stay during the
time necessary for the filming of the picture.
Tom and Ruth had gleaned their information concerning this particular
ranch from Mr. Hammond. The latter, it seemed, had put up at this ranch
during his former stay at Golden Pass and had heartily recommended it to
Ruth and Tom as ideal headquarters for the company during the taking of
the picture.
“The ranch is run by a fine old couple,” Mr. Hammond had told Tom. “And
when I say run, I mean run. One of the finest ranches in the country. I
can’t promise you luxuries but I can guarantee that Ma Gowdy will
furnish you with all the comforts of home. Try it, my boy. You can’t go
wrong.”
Tom had been only too glad to follow this advice. Writing to Headwaters
Ranch, he had received a reply by return mail to the effect that the
ranch could easily accommodate the number Tom had mentioned in his
letter. Since the rates for rooms and meal quoted by the owner of the
ranch were satisfactory, Tom, with Ruth’s entire sanction and approval,
wrote back at once, clinching the deal.
This done, the young fellow drew a long sigh of relief. One of the most
vexing problems of the trip had been easily solved, thanks to Mr.
Hammond.
Now Tom made inquiries of the young fellows lounging about the station
and found that conveyances of a sort had been sent from the ranch.
A good looking, impudent-eyed, rangy lad, had brought a rather
dilapidated Ford which, he explained, was for the use of the ladies.
The luggage was to be conveyed in an open wagon driven by one of the
other ranch hands. The men, it seemed, were to ride the nervous,
velvet-skinned, half-wild colts, kept in hand by a third picturesquely
dressed young man.
The eyes of Layton Boardman gleamed as he approached the spirited group
of colts. With a soft word or two he reached out and touched the
nearest, a caressing movement of hand on velvet nose. The colt trembled
but stood still and in a moment the actor’s arm stole round the neck of
the little beast. Gently he stroked him with his other hand and talked
to him softly. With a sudden capitulating whinny the colt rubbed his
head against the man’s shoulder. It was colt love talk. The two were
friends.
Ruth and Helen, watching the little scene with interest, stepped forward
eagerly. Even the blasé Viola had stopped talking with the nearest
cowboy to watch.
Layton Boardman looked up at the young fellow in charge of the horses.
“Seems like he’s mine,” he drawled, instinctively dropping back into
cowboy dialect. “Just naturally belong together. A beauty, too,” rubbing
his hand over the sleek coat, “if I know hosses.”
“He’s full o’ ginger, mister,” said the youngster, his eyes admiringly
on Boardman’s breadth of shoulder. One could guess at the man’s splendid
muscular development, even beneath the conventional, loose-hung suit he
wore. “But I guess you can manage him, all right.”
“Reckon so,” drawled Boardman, and with a lithe movement swung himself
into the saddle before even the little colt knew what he was about.
The latter, surprised, reared instinctively in protest, a swift action
of rippling muscles and tossing mane that would have given even an
experienced rider a moment of tension.
But Boardman clung to the colt’s back as easily and with as much
nonchalance as though he were reclining in an easy chair at home.
“Now, don’t go gettin’ all het up,” he told the pony in a gentle drawl
of reproof. “Ain’t a bit of use, little feller. Better sit quiet and
save yo’ strength,” he went on, in true cowboy style.
As though recognizing the wisdom of this advice, the colt set its feet
daintily to earth and stood there, pawing the ground.
In the eyes of the cowboys who had gathered around was admiration and,
better still, recognition. Layton Boardman was one of them, despite his
“swell” clothes and citified air.
“You sho can handle thet colt, mister,” one of them said.
“We’ll set you to some ‘bronco bustin’ in a day or two,” another
shouted.
“Fine,” Boardman’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I’ll be there, boys.
Just watch me!”
Tom looked at Ruth. She, in turn, was gazing at Layton Boardman, her
lips slightly parted with pleasure, eyes bright.
Tom turned away quickly and hurried to oversee the piling of trunks on
the wagon. He despised himself for feeling jealous. But this fellow,
Boardman, was out of the ordinary. He had magnetism of the sort that
draws both men and women to him. Also, Boardman had on his side the
glamour that always surrounds an actor. By the time they were ready to
start Tom was in a pretty savage mood.
However, the ride to Headwaters Ranch was not one to cultivate moods,
except it be one of appreciation of grandeur and beauty in its finest
form.
Montana is a land of glorious mountains and fertile valleys, of sunshine
and, in the heart of its woodlands, deepest shadow. During that ride
along rock mountain roads in the shaky flivver Ruth and Helen saw views
unfolding before them that took their breath away, left them in a maze
of beauty, groping for adjectives that could describe the things they
saw.
How tell others of those lofty mountain peaks, remote and still,
towering sentinel-like above the sunlit, pleasant valleys lying fertile
and warm at their feet? How describe the picturesque grandeur of the
cañons that dropped dizzily away from one’s very feet to a dazzling
silver ribbon of stream below?
“Ruth, I’m simply steeped in beauty,” said Helen after an awed half hour
of this. “It was worth coming all the way from Cheslow, if only for a
glimpse of this glorious scenery.”
“I can see that I’m going to have an embarrassment of riches,” said Ruth
contentedly. “I’ll have to draw lots to decide on locations for my
picture.”
They came suddenly upon Headwaters Ranch, hiding away between two
towering mountains. A stream wound its way through the center of the
ranch, making it one of the most fertile in the country.
Ruth gave one glance at the rambling buildings, of the old ranch house
itself, and of the sunlit plains back of the house dotted with herds of
grazing cattle and immediately forgot all about being tired and her need
of rest.
“I’ve simply got to take a look around before dark!” she told Helen and
Tom, as the latter swung from his horse and opened the car door. “I
shouldn’t wonder if I’d find plenty of material right here on the ranch
for my picture.”
But since Helen protested that she, at least, was going to make up for
some of the sleep she had lost on her travels and Tom urgently advised
that Ruth wait until morning for her tour of exploration, the girl
finally gave in and followed the others into the house.
There were two old people in charge of the ranch--at least, they would
have seemed old to Ruth and Helen had the girls met them in the city.
But out here where rugged physique and great endurance are the rule, Ma
and Pa Gowdy seemed not so old, as well-seasoned and hardy.
Certain it was that they still ran the ranch with all their old
efficiency, hard when it came to demanding every bit of effort from
those they employed but just and square in all their dealings with “the
boys.” Every one loved and was loyal to Pa and Ma Gowdy. The young folks
had not been long on the ranch before they realized that Ma, good old
sport that she was, had equal say in the management of the ranch with
Pa--and desertions and insurrection were practically unheard of on
Headwaters Ranch.
Pa, they learned upon entering the house, was out on the ranch
somewhere, but Ma had waited to greet her guests.
She was a tall, powerfully built woman, dressed in uncompromising calico
that failed to detract from her air of quiet forcefulness.
She looked at the company, seeming in one, quick canny glance to take in
every detail of it, then led the way quietly into the big front room.
Somehow Ruth gathered that Ma Gowdy was almost always silent.
“I’m Ruth Fielding,” said Ruth as the old lady turned to face them. She
introduced the others and to each introduction Ma Gowdy nodded gravely,
neither speaking nor smiling.
“I suppose what you all want, really, is to get to your rooms and clean
up some,” she said when the introductions were over. “Andy here,”
motioning to an embarrassed youth in the doorway, “will show you where
you’re to stay. I reckon you’ll find everything ready for you. If you
want anything, all you have to do is stick your head out the door and
call out. We’re plain folks, but I hope you’ll be comfortable while you
stay. Supper’ll be ready in ’bout an hour.”
She turned and left them then to the care of Andy, who seemed not at all
certain what to do with his arms and legs. He used the latter finally as
a means of locomotion, and succeeded in assigning the leading members of
the company to large, rather scantily furnished rooms on the second
floor.
Viola was heard to comment audibly on the bareness of her quarters and
to yearn in homesick tones for the comfort of her “bung-ul-ow.”
Ruth was about to shut the door to her own particular apartment when
Helen pushed her way in.
“Ruth, I’ve got one room too many,” she complained. “The place that
ridiculous Andy gave me is big enough for sixteen people. Do have a
heart--though I have reason to believe you haven’t--and let me come in
with you.”
Ruth chuckled and glanced at the enormous bedstead in one corner of the
room.
“There certainly is room enough for two,” she admitted. “Did you ever
see such a big barn of a place?”
But, though the room was big and bare enough, the view from the windows
of it was more than enough to compensate. Arms about each other, the two
girls stood at the largest of the three windows, drinking in the beauty
of the sun-flecked range, dotted by innumerable grazing cattle, with,
beyond and above it, the towering, misty peaks of the mountains.
“That’s the Rocky Mountain range, isn’t it?” said Helen dreamily. “There
ought to be good hunting up in those woods, Ruthie.”
“Plenty of deer, I suppose,” agreed Ruth. “But I hate to think of any
one’s hunting them for sport--beautiful, soft-eyed things.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you can keep Tom away from it. I know he packed
his rifle along and he’ll probably spend every spare minute he can get
using it.”
“I wish he’d left his old rifle at home,” said Ruth crossly. “We didn’t
come up here to hunt.”
Helen’s prophecy proved correct. The next morning Tom put on outing
clothes and took his rifle, declaring his intention of browsing about a
bit.
“I may bring back only a rabbit,” he told them. “Deer is out of season.
But they say rabbit is very good to eat, cooked the way these westerners
know how to cook them.”
“Don’t stay too long, will you, Tom?” asked Ruth, with just a touch of
coldness in her voice. “I want to look for locations before long, you
know.”
“You won’t need me until noon, will you?” he asked.
“No--and probably not then,” said Ruth, turning away with a little shrug
of her shoulder.
“If Tom would rather go hunting than stay around and do his part in the
preliminary work of the picture, he can go hunting and stay as long as
he wants to!” Ruth told herself defiantly. “I don’t care what he does!”
And Tom, not knowing that she was piqued and hurt, gave her a curious
look, hesitated, then turned and swung off in the direction of the
woods, his rifle slung over his shoulder.
He had gone only a few feet when it occurred to him that he had better
enter those unfamiliar woods on horseback.
“The ponies know these mountain trails better than I--at least, they’re
more sure-footed,” he told himself, and turned toward the corrals.
Ruth saw to it that the members of her company were well employed. Some
of them had not finished reading the script. Others set out afoot or on
horseback to explore the country. Viola and Layton Boardman had already
gone for a morning canter.
All her small duties attended to, Ruth felt free at last to go about her
own business. And that business was, first of all, to explore Headwaters
Ranch thoroughly.
She and Helen selected ponies from the corrals and set forth on a brisk
canter. The ranch lands were even more picturesque close to than they
had been when seen in perspective from the window.
Ma and Pa Gowdy did no farming--at least, not more than enough to supply
their own needs. The fertile lands were given over almost completely to
stock raising.
“I never saw so many animals in my life,” said Helen. The herds of
cattle fascinated her and frightened her at the same time. “I think I’ll
go back, if you don’t mind, Ruthie dear. Yonder big steer has a mean and
hungry eye.”
Ruth laughed absently.
“All right. I’ll be coming along in a little while. I want to go as far
as the stream and see what it looks like--if I can make it before noon.”
Ruth scarcely knew when Helen left her. Her mind was glowing with the
realization that many of her scenes in her scenario could be shot right
here on the ranch. She dismounted from her horse and led it lightly by
the bridle. Such local color, such background!
She was roused from her dreaming by a strange sound as of the distant
pounding of surf upon the shore. Even as she lifted her head with a
swift, startled motion the sound became louder and swelled to a roar of
pounding hoofs.
Ruth looked and her heart leaped wildly. Down upon her, started probably
by some imaginary thing, swept a solid sea of steers, heads tossing,
hoofs tearing at the turf. And in the path of this dreadful wave Ruth
stood, unable to move, unable even to cry aloud.