Frances of the Ranges; Or, The Old Ranchman's Treasure

by Amy Bell Marlowe

  CHAPTER XVI

  A FRIEND INSISTENT

  It was a long way to the Peckham ranch-house, at which Frances meant tomake her first night stop. The greater part of the journey would then beover.

  The second night she proposed to stay at the hotel in Calas, a suburb ofAmarillo. Her errands in the big town would occupy but a few hours, andshe expected to be back at Peckham's on the third evening, and at homeagain by the end of the fourth day.

  She was troubled by the thought of being so long away from her father'sside; but he was on the mend again and the doctor had promised to seehim at least once while she was away from the ranch.

  Her reason she gave for going to Amarillo was business connected withthe forthcoming pageant, "The Panhandle: Past and Present." Thisexplanation satisfied her father, too--and it was true to a degree.

  She heard from the chaplain of the Bylittle Soldiers' Home the daybefore she was to start on her brief journey, and she sent Jose Reposawith a long prepaid telegraph message to the station, arranging for aprivate car in which Jonas P. Lonergan was to travel from Mississippi tothe Panhandle. She hoped the chaplain would come with him. About theex-orderly of the home the letter said nothing. Perhaps Mr. Tooley hadoverlooked that part of her message.

  Captain Rugley was delighted that his old partner was coming West; theannouncement seemed to have quieted his mind. But he lay on his bed,watching the corded chest, with his gun hanging close at hand.

  That is, he watched one of the corded and burlapped chests. The secretof the second chest was known only to Frances herself and the twoChinamen. Anybody who entered the great hall of the _hacienda_ sawthat one, as Ratty had, standing ready for removal. The one in CaptainRugley's room was covered by the blanket and looked like an ordinarydivan.

  Frances believed San Soo and Ming were to be trusted. But to Silent Samshe left the guarding of the ranch-house during her absence.

  Day was just beginning to announce itself by faint streaks of pink andsalmon color along the eastern horizon, when the four-mule wagon andFrances' pony arrived at the gate of the compound. The two Chinamen, Samhimself, and Mack Hinkman, the driver, had all they could do to carrythe chest out to the wagon.

  Frances came out, pulling on her gantlets. She had kissed her fathergood-bye the evening before, and he was sleeping peacefully at thishour.

  "Have a good journey, Miss Frances," said Sam, yawning. "Look out forthat off mule, Mack. _Adios._"

  The Chinamen had scuttled back to the house. Frances was mounted onMolly, and the heavy wagon lurched forward, the mules straining in thecollars under the admonition of Mack's voice and the snap of hisbullwhip.

  The wagon had a top, and the flap at the back was laced down. No casualpasser-by could see what was in the vehicle.

  Frances rode ahead, for Molly was fresh and was anxious to gallop. Sheallowed the pinto to have her head for the first few miles, as she rodestraight away into the path of the sun that rose, red andjovial-looking, above the edge of the plain.

  A lone coyote, hungry after a fruitless night of wandering, sat upon itshaunches not far from the trail, and yelped at her as she passed. Themorning air was as invigorating as new wine, and her cares and troublesseemed to be lightened already.

  She rode some distance ahead of the wagon; but at the line of the Bar-Tshe picketed Molly and built a little fire. She carried at her saddlethe means and material for breakfast. When the slower moving mule teamcame up with her there was an appetizing odor of coffee and bacon in theair.

  "That sure does smell good, Ma'am!" declared Mack. "And it'son-expected. I only got a cold bite yere."

  "We'll have that at noon," said Frances, brightly. "But the morning airis bound to make one hungry for a hot drink and a rasher of bacon."

  In twenty minutes they were on the trail again. Frances now kept closeto the wagon. Once off the Bar-T ranges she felt less like being out ofsight of Mack, who was one of the most trustworthy men in her father'semploy.

  He was not much of a talker, it was true, so Frances had little companybut her own thoughts; but _they_ were company enough at present.

  As she rode along she thought much about the pageant that was to be heldat Jackleg; many of the brightest points in that entertainment wereevolved by Frances of the ranges on this long ride to the Peckham ranch.

  There were several breaks in the monotony of the journey. One was whenanother covered wagon came into view, taking the trail far ahead ofthem. It came from the direction of Cottonwood Bottom, and was drawn bytwo very good horses. It was so far ahead, however, that neither Francesnor Mack could distinguish the outfit or recognize the driver.

  "Dunno who that kin be," said Mack, "'nless it's Bob Ellis makin' forPeckham's, too. I learned he was going to town this week."

  Bob Ellis was a small rancher farther south. Frances was doubtful.

  "Would Ellis come by that trail?" she queried. "And why doesn't he stopto pass the time of day with us?"

  "That's so!" agreed Mack. "It couldn't be Bob, for he'd know thesemules, and he ain't been to the Bar-T for quite a spell. I dunno whothat kin be, then, Miss Frances."

  Frances had had her light fowling-piece put in the wagon, and beforenoon she sighted a flock of the scarce prairie chickens. Away shescampered on Molly after the wary birds, and succeeded, in half an hour,in getting a brace of them.

  Mack picked and cleaned the chickens on the wagon-seat. "They'll helpout with supper to-night, if Miz' Peckham ain't expectin' company," heremarked.

  But they were not destined to arrive at the Peckham ranch without anincident of more importance than these.

  It was past mid-afternoon. They had had their cold bite, rested themules and Molly, and the latter was plodding along in the shade of thewagon-top all but asleep, and her rider was in a like somnolentcondition. Mack was frankly snoring on the wagon-seat, for the mules hadnaught to do but keep to the trail.

  Suddenly Molly lifted her head and pricked her ears. Frances came toherself with a slight shock, too. She listened. The pinto nickeredfaintly.

  Frances immediately distinguished the patter of hoofs. A single pony wascoming.

  The girl jerked Molly's head around and they dropped back behind thewagon which kept on lumberingly, with Mack still asleep on the seat.From the south--from the direction of the distant river--a rider camegalloping up the trail.

  "Why!" murmured Frances. "It's Ratty M'Gill!"

  The ex-cowboy of the Bar-T swung around upon the trail, as though headedeast, and grinned at the ranchman's daughter. His face was very red andhis eyes were blurred, and Frances feared he had been drinking.

  "Hi, lady!" he drawled. "Are ye mad with me?"

  "I don't like you, M'Gill," the girl said, frankly. "You don't expect meto, do you?"

  "Aw, why be fussy?" asked the cowboy, gaily. "It's too pretty a world tohold grudges. Let's be friends, Frances."

  Frances grew restive under his leering smile and forced gaiety. Shesearched M'Gill sharply with her look.

  "You didn't gallop out of your way to tell me this," she said. "What doyou want of me?"

  "Oh, just to say how-de-do!" declared the fellow, still with his leeringsmile. "And to wish you a good journey."

  "What do you know about my journey?" asked Frances, quickly.

  But Ratty M'Gill was not so much intoxicated that he could be easilycoaxed to divulge any secret. He shook his head, still grinning.

  "Heard 'em say you were going to Amarillo, before I went to Jackleg," hedrawled. "Mighty lonesome journey for a gal to take."

  "Mack is with me," said Frances, shortly. "I am not lonely."

  "Whew! I bet that hurt me," chuckled Ratty M'Gill. "My room's betterthan my comp'ny, eh?"

  "It certainly is," said the girl, frankly.

  "Now, you wouldn't say that if you knowed something that I know,"declared the fellow, grinning slily.

  "I don't know that anything you may say would interest me," the girlreplied, sharply, and turned Molly's head.

  "Aw, h
old on!" cried Ratty. "Don't be so abrupt. What I gotter say toyou may help a lot."

  But Frances did not look back. She pushed Molly for the now distantwagon. In a moment she knew that Ratty was thundering after her. Whatdid he mean by such conduct? To tell the truth, the ranchman's daughterwas troubled.

  Surely, the reckless fellow did not propose to attack Mack and herselfon the open trail and in broad daylight? She opened her lips to shoutfor the sleeping wagon-driver, when a cloud of dust ahead of the mulescame into her view.

  She heard the clatter of many hoofs. Quite a cavalcade was coming alongthe trail from the east. Out of the dust appeared a figure that Franceshad learned to know well; and to tell the truth she was not sorry in herheart to see the smiling countenance of Pratt Sanderson.

  "Hold on, Frances! Ye better listen to me a minute!" shouted theex-cowboy behind her.

  She gave him no attention. Molly sprang ahead and she met Pratt not farfrom the wagon. He stopped abruptly, as did the girl of the ranges.Ratty M'Gill brought his own mount to a sudden halt within a few yards.

  "Hello!" exclaimed Pratt. "What's the matter, Frances?"

  "Why, Pratt! How came you and your friends to be riding this way?"returned the range girl.

  She saw the red coat of the girl from Boston in the party passing theslowly moving wagon, and she was not at all sure that she was glad tosee Pratt, after all!

  But the young man had seen something suspicious in the manner in whichRatty M'Gill had been following Frances. The fellow now sat easily inhis saddle at a little distance and rolled a cigarette, leering in themeantime at the ranch girl and her friend.

  "What does that fellow want?" demanded Pratt again.

  "Oh, don't mind him," said Frances, hurriedly. "He has been dischargedfrom the Bar-T----"

  "That's the fellow you said made the steers stampede?" Prattinterrupted.

  "Yes."

  "Don't like his looks," the Amarillo young man said, frankly. "Glad wecame up as we did."

  "But you must go on with your friends, Pratt," said Frances, faintly.

  "Goodness! there are enough of them, and the other fellows can get 'emall back to Mr. Bill Edwards' in time for supper," laughed Pratt. "Ibelieve I'll go on with you. Where are you bound?"

  "To Peckham's ranch," said Frances, faintly. "We shall stop thereto-night."

  The rest of the party passed, and Frances bowed to them. Sue Latroplooked at the ranch girl, curiously, but scarcely inclined her head.Frances felt that if she allowed Pratt to escort her she would make theBoston girl more of an enemy than she already felt her to be.

  "We--we don't really need you, Pratt," said Frances. "Mack is allright----"

  "That fellow asleep on the wagon-seat? Lots of good _he_ is as anescort," laughed Pratt.

  "But I don't really need you," said the girl, weakly.

  "Oh! don't be so offish!" cried the young man, more seriously. "Don'tyou suppose I'd be glad of the chance to ride with you for a way?"

  "But your friends----"

  "You're a friend of mine," said Pratt, seriously. "I don't like the lookof that Ratty M'Gill. I'm going to Peckham's with you."

  What could Frances say? Ratty leered at her from his saddle. She knew hemust be partly intoxicated, for he was very careless with his matches.He allowed a flaming splinter to fall to the trail, after he lit hiscigarette, and, drunk or sober, a cattleman is seldom careless with fireon the plains.

  It was mid-pasturage season and the ranges were already dry. A sparkmight at any time start a serious fire.

  "We-ell," gasped Frances, at last. "I can't stop you from coming!"

  "Of course not!" laughed Pratt, and quickly turned his grey pony to ridebeside the pinto.

  The wagon was now a long way ahead. They set off on a gallop to overtakeit. But when Frances looked over her shoulder after a minute, RattyM'Gill still remained on the trail, as though undecided whether tofollow or not.