Jessica, the Heiress

None answered these clear, commanding sentences, which, as the strangers present thought, came so oddly from such childish lips, and they wondered at the effect produced upon the Sobrante men. These glanced at one another in doubt, each questioning the decision of his neighbor; and then again at the lovely girl who had never before seemed so wholly angelic.

“Will you do this?”

“Hold on, little one. Let the ‘admiral’ speak. Has she forgiven that human coyote?”

The unexpected question startled Mrs. Trent. She was a strictly truthful woman, and found her answer difficult. She had never liked the wretched creature who had just brought such misery to her, and she now loathed him. She had already resolved that, while she would protect Ferd from personal injury, she would see to it that he was put where he could never again injure her or hers. Her momentary hesitation told. The whole assemblage waited for her next word amid a silence that could be felt, when, suddenly, there burst upon that silence a series of ear-splitting shrieks which effectually diverted attention from the perplexed ranch mistress.

CHAPTER VI.

BEHIND LOCKED DOORS

The shrieks were uttered by Elsa Winkler, who frantically rushed to the horse block, demanding: “Where? Where?”

Mrs. Trent gave one glance at the rough, unkempt woman, and sternly remarked:

“Elsa, you forget yourself! Go back indoors, at once.”

The unhappy creature shivered at this unfamiliar tone, yet abated nothing of her outcry:

“My money! My money! My money!”

She had come to the ranch thinking only of Jessica’s mysterious absence, and meaning to do something, anything, which might help or comfort the child’s mother; but the long walk, for one so heavy and unaccustomed to exercise, had made her physically ill by the time she reached Sobrante. Which state of things was wholly satisfactory to Aunt Sally, who, having received the visitor with dismay, now promptly suggested bed and rest, saying:

“You poor creatur’! You’re clean beat out! If you don’t take care, you’ll have a dreadful fit of sickness, and I don’t know who’d wait on you if you did. Not with all this trouble on hand. You go right straight up into one them back chambers, where the bed is all made up ready, and put yourself to bed, and–stay there! Don’t you dast get up again till I say so; else I won’t answer for the consequences. You’re as yeller as saffron, and as red as a beet. Them two colors mixed on a human countenance means–somethin’! To bed, Elsa Winkler; to bed right away. I’ll fetch you up a cup of tea and a bite of victuals. Don’t tarry.”

“But–the mistress!” Elsa had panted. “I come so long for to speak her good cheer. I must see the mistress, then I rest.”

“The mistress isn’t seeing anybody just now, except me and–a few others. You do as I say, or you’ll never knit another wool shawl.”

“No, no. I knit no more, forever, is it? Not I. Why the reason? The more one earns the more one may lose. Yes, yes, indeed. Yes.”

“That’s the true word,” Mrs. Benton had replied; “and so being you’ve no yarn to worry you, nor no mistress to see, off to bed, I say, and don’t you dast to get sick on my hands, I warn you!”

So Elsa had obeyed the command, glad enough to rest and be idle for a time. Aunt Sally had seen to it that the visitor was kept duly alarmed concerning her red-and-yellow condition, nor had she given the permission to arise when Wolfgang and Otto arrived from their fruitless visit to El Desierto. They found the place crowded with returning searchers, and joyfully hailed the good news of Jessica’s safety. But when there was added to this the information that their own property had been found, they demanded to be taken to Elsa, and it was their visit to her room which had sent her afield, half-clad, and with thought for nothing but her lost treasure.

Even now, husband and son joined their entreaties to hers, though Samson soon brought them to hear reason, and to withdraw from public for the present, asking, indignantly:

“Have you folks lost all your manners, as well as your dollars, up there on the foothill? The idee of a woman screeching her lungs out afore all the ranchers in Southern Californy! Your money? Well, what of it? If it’s found, it’ll be give to you, and if it isn’t you ain’t the first feller’s been robbed. Besides, can’t you smell? Don’t you know that you’re interruptin’ the prettiest spread ever was seen at old Sobrante? Like chicken? Like roast pig? Like hot biscuit and plum sess? Then go wash your face, and make your folks fix up and come enjoy yourself. So far as I hear, it’s old Pedro holds the cash, and you might as well try to move the Sierras as him, if he ain’t ready to move. At this present writin’ he’s set himself guard over that scalliwag, Ferd, and I ain’t envying him his job, I ain’t. Hurry up, there won’t be anything but necks and drumsticks left for you laggards.”

Thus admonished and reassured, Wolfgang hurried his family away to prepare for the feast, and the interruption they had caused to the proceedings at the horse block effectually relieved Mrs. Trent from an immediate answer to an awkward question, so she said:

“Come, daughter. I see by Aunt Sally’s manner that she wishes the people would begin to eat. Every pair of hands, that belongs to us, must help in serving these kind neighbors who have flocked to our aid. Some of them have forty good miles to ride before they sleep, and they must be fed first. I’ll stand by the head table yonder, and name them, and do you, for whom they left their business, wait upon them yourself. That will show them your gratitude, and give them honor due.”

So it was, and to every dish she brought, the little captain added a graceful word of thanks, which seasoned the food better than even Aunt Sally’s wondrous skill had done; and many an encomium did the child hear, in return, of that lost father who had made himself so well-beloved in all that countryside.

When all was over and done, when the last “neighbor” had ridden homeward, when everybody had had his fill, and more than his fill of good things, and the rudely constructed tables had been removed from the wide lawn, came Aunt Sally, beaming with happiness, and glanced over the scene, till there broke from her lips the wondering question:

“Can this be the same spot that was so dark and lonely yesterday? I’ve had my heartstrings so stretched and tugged at, betwixt joy and sorrow, that I don’t know myself. I–I believe I’m tired! And if I am, it’s about the first time in my life. Well, well! Talking of Christmas–this little supper we’ve just give is about equal to forty Christmases in one. Seem’s if.”

“Dear, kind, Aunt Sally, how shall I ever thank you for all you’ve done for us?” cried Mrs. Trent, appearing at her friend’s side, and impetuously clasping the portly matron. The embrace was so unexpected, for the ranch mistress was never a demonstrative woman, that its recipient was, for the instant, speechless; the next, she had turned herself about and demanded:

“Gabriella Trent, have you had a bite to eat?”

“No. Have you, Mrs. Benton?”

“Not a morsel. I’m as empty as a bubble. No more has the captain touched a thing. She’s here, there and everywhere, among her precious ‘boys,’ yet not a one of ’em has the decency to say: ‘Share my supper, Lady Jess.’ If they were my ‘boys,’ I’d–”

“No, you wouldn’t, mother. And I’m glad to see you two women resting a spell. Keep on sitting there. We’re going to wait on you now, and don’t you believe we haven’t put by the pick of the pies for you all! The captain is fetchin’ the tackers, and Pasqual’s fetchin’ the food. But what about old Pedro and the coyote?”

“John, don’t call names, ’specially hard ones. They always come home to roost. But I’m glad you do some credit to your upraisin’, and did remember that somebody else, except yourself, might be hungry. Wait, Gabriell’. Don’t you worry about that Indian. I’ll just step in and fix him somethin’.”

“You’d better not, mother. He’s got all the company he wants at this present writing.”

This was sufficient to spur Mrs. Benton’s energy afresh. Curiosity was her besetting sin, and she could not endure that anything should go on about the ranch in which she had no hand. Rising rather hastily from a chair that was much too frail for her weight, she and it came to grief, and the fact diverted her attention for the time.

John was glad of this, though outwardly he sympathized with her slight mishap, and facetiously offered her a dose of her own picra.

Mrs. Trent also rose, saying:

“I will go to Pedro. Though I did try to thank him, when he first came, I had but a moment to give him then, and I fear he will feel he has been neglected. As if I could ever neglect one to whom I owe my darling’s restoration!”

Mrs. Benton looked after her, and sighed.

“There she goes again! and that woman hasn’t tasted a mouthful in a dog’s age!”

“How long’s a ‘dog’s age,’ Aunt Sally?” demanded Ned as he helped himself to a buttered biscuit which Pasqual had just placed on the old lady’s plate.

“Age as long as a dog,” commented Luis, seizing the biscuit from his mate and running away with it. Of course, Ned gave chase, and the usual battle ensued, after which they dropped down upon the spot where they had fought, threw their arms around each other’s necks, and munched the biscuit together with an air of cherubic delight.

Everybody laughed at the pair, upon which Aunt Sally now descended with a threatening mien and a plate of plum cake.

“Ain’t you ashamed of yourselves, you naughty children? Fighting half your time. Here! Eat that and let your suppers stop. By the way, how many suppers have you had already?”

“Six or seven,” promptly replied Ned, who had eaten with whoever invited him.

“Sixty-seven,” echoed Luis.

“Then to bed you go, this instant!” And off they were marched, without delay. Of course, this was another postponement of Mrs. Benton’s own meal, but she didn’t mind that, so long as she had an opportunity to deal with the small lads. Explaining to them, as she undressed and bathed them: “You’d go to wrack and ruin if ’twasn’t for me takin’ a hand in your upbringin’ now and then. You pull the wool over Gabriella’s eyes the worst ever was. My! What you doing now, Edward Trent?”

“Pullin’ wool, like you said!” and wound the white blanket he had caught from his cot the more tightly about Luis’ head.

Meanwhile, the ranch mistress had gained the office and asked admission at its locked door. When a long wait ensued, she reflected rather anxiously upon what the men had often said, “That Old Century is as top-lofty as a king. Thinks he is a king, in his own rights, and his having lived a hundred years makes him better’n anybody else.”

This was quite true. Faithful and devoted to her as he was, the shepherd exacted even from her the respect that was his due. On that day he felt that much more than ordinary consideration was owing him; yet he had been left for hours, unvisited by her for whom he had done, and meant still to do, so much. Therefore, it was with a bearing full of injured dignity that he at last slid the bolt and opened the door, though he did not invite the visitor to enter, nor withdraw from the opening.

“I came to see about your supper, good Pedro. Do you know that it has been cooked in the old mission oven? That should make it taste fine to you. You must pardon my not being earlier, but there have been so many, many guests. All gone now, save our own people.”

“Senorita, am I not also a guest, yes? Was one at Sobrante as old as me? Should not I have ruled the feast?”