CHAPTER IX.
JACQUELINE'S MISFORTUNE.
TO one side of Mr. Simpson's big ranch lay a new orchard. The ranchpeople in Wyoming were just beginning to discover what wonderful fruitcould be grown in certain portions of their cattle country and Jean andJack were dreadfully envious of their neighbor's five acres of pears,plums, apples and cherries. Their own poor orchard had been set out onlytwo years before and the trees appeared like a collection of feebleswitches.
"Let's ride through the orchard and fill our pockets with apples beforewe start on our way," Harry suggested. The moonlight was so clear andradiant that the boys could distinguish the color of the few late applesthat still hung on the trees. The road back of the orchard led to atrail across the prairies, which neither the ranch girls nor Harry knew.It seemed to travel to the land of nowhere across a shining path oflight.
Jacqueline took the lead, followed by Frank Kent, Jean and Harry. Theponies had been all day in the corrals and some of the witchery of theOctober night had gotten into them as well as their riders. Theygalloped swiftly, their shaggy manes shaking and their long tailsarched, and soon left the level lands of their host's ranch far behind.
"I never had such a wonderful ride in my life!" Frank Kent exclaimed."How utterly still the night is!"
Jack's hands hardly touched her reins and she laughed joyously. "Oh,that is because we are out on the prairie and going too swiftly for youto hear. Over there where we see a line of shadow, I believe we willfind some water and a grove of trees. Then you will hear the noises ofthe night, which are part of our Western life."
Jack and Frank slowed down. Jean and Harry were a short distance behindthem. They had ridden to the edge of a ravine, and across the gorge wasa solitary butte or low mountain. On this side the moonlight fell on astretch of evergreen forest, whose tall trees rose black between thesplashes of light.
"Listen," Jack whispered softly.
First came the mournful call of the wildcats from the depth of theravine, then, near the entrance to the woods, the whimper and squeak ofthe owls.
Frank caught a sound which the last few weeks in Wyoming had taught himto understand, the long melancholy wail of the coyotes, the wolf dogs ofthe prairies. But to-night the howl was deeper and more prolonged.
"What was that?" Frank asked quickly.
"Wolves, I suppose," Jack answered with perfect calmness. "There may bea few of them prowling about. They often come out at night at somedistance from the ranches."
Jean and Harry cantered up. "Hasn't the ride been just too beautiful?"Jean sighed. "I can't bear to think we must turn back to go home."
"Home? Why it's not late," Harry argued, but Jean shook her head.
"We have got to try the forest trail for just a little bit of the way,Jean," Jack pleaded recklessly. "We won't go far in. It will be likefairyland in there to-night. See how plain the trail is, there must bewater somewhere and the trail was made by the deer and antelope on theway to the pool to drink. To-night I shan't believe that anybody knowsof these woods but us."
Jack did not wait for an answer. She would not listen to Jean'sremonstrance, for all the willfulness in her was aroused and she thoughtonly of her own desire.
She turned Hotspur's head into the woods. There was no chance to ridebeside her, as the way was too narrow, so the rest of the party followedin single file.
"You ought to have let me go on ahead, Jack," Harry declared in aworried tone. "You know nothing of this trail and you may come togrief!"
Jacqueline laughed teasingly. "Don't be preachy, Harry. You know Hotspurand I are used to looking after ourselves." Jack whistled like a naughtyboy:
"On the road to Mandalay, Where the flying fishes play,"--
and waved her hand to the others to follow her at a sharper pace.
"Jack's awfully silly to-night," Jean remarked to Frank Kent. "I hopeAunt Sallie won't mind, but there is nothing for us to do but to keep upwith her. We won't get back to the ranch until awfully late."
Frank hesitated. "Look here, Miss Bruce, I know I am a tenderfoot, butdo you think we ought to go into these woods at night? Don't think,please, that I am afraid for myself. But Miss Ralston just told me thatthere might be wolves about. I am not armed, though I believe that Harryhas his pistol. I should hate to have you get in trouble."
Jean understood Frank Kent better than Jacqueline did. To tell thetruth, he seemed a bit slow to Jack, she liked people with more get upand go, more fire and energy in them. But Jean guessed that Frank hadplenty of strength and courage beneath his quiet manner, and Jean wasright.
"Wolves don't attack parties, not once in a thousand times," Jeanexplained simply. "And we are making entirely too much noise to be inany danger. It is the solitary individual the wolves like to get after.They are such mean cowardly wretches."
Frank Kent smiled grimly. The ranch girls were a puzzle to him, theytalked about wolves and bears and wild cattle as calmly as most girlsspoke of dogs and cats and canary birds, and Frank could see that theywere not putting on airs. They would not have gone deliberately intodanger any more than a sensible fellow would have done; but Jean andJack had grown up in a country where men had lived by the killing ofwild game. Their house was filled with the skins of wild animals, shotby their father and the cowboys from their place. While they were stilllittle children they had been taught the use of a gun. Jack often hadbeen on hunting trips with her father in the northern parts of the Stateand was perfectly able to bring down a lynx or a cougar with awell-trained shot between its eyes. She had never been able to shoot adeer, for in spite of being brought up like a boy, her heart failed herat the thought of destroying anything that did not live by preying onother animals.
Jack gave a cry of pleasure. "See!" she called back. "I haven't broughtyou to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but I have led you toa pool of silver." She had brought Hotspur to a standstill in front of alittle silver lake, where the ravine extended in a circle into thewoods.
For a moment the four riders were breathless with admiration, then a bigbrown form lumbered out of a clump of low bushes. Hotspur reared andthe indistinct mass rolled by Jacqueline and made for a thicket.
"It's a bear!" Jack shouted triumphantly. "Who would have thought wecould have had such luck? Let's go after old Bruin and see what becomesof him; he won't eat us up."
Jack was only joking. She had no real idea of following the bear; shewasn't even sure what beast had trundled by them, but was only in a wildhumor and wondered how far the others would follow her. She gave Hotspura little cut with her whip.
"Come back, Miss Ralston," Frank called sharply. He had ridden nearenough to her to reach out for her bridle.
Jack grew more reckless. She sprang aside but did not notice that theground opened in front of her in a narrow, broken crevice, untilHotspur's fore feet went down the incline and Jack pitched headlong overhim, falling with a crash in the brushwood beyond.
In the medley of cries and confusion that followed, Jacqueline did notknow whether she had been unconscious a second or an age when she wasaroused by a peculiar noise which she was familiar with. It was ahorse's terrible cry of pain. She tried to sit up. Jean and Frank Kenthad dismounted hurriedly and come over to her, while Harry Pryor wastrying to get Hotspur out of the gully.
"I am afraid you will have to help me, Frank, if Miss Ralston isn'thurt; I am afraid Hotspur has broken his leg."
Jacqueline gave a little cry and Jean covered her cousin's eyes with herhands. There was a pain in Jack's shoulder that was wrenching andtearing at her, but it was nothing to the feeling that Harry's wordscreated.
"It can't be true," she sobbed. "I couldn't have hurt my pony likethat."
But it was true, for Harry and Frank had Hotspur on the level ground andthe little pony lay moaning and neighing pitifully. There was onlymoonlight to show what had happened, but Jack flung herself down besidehim and her tears fell in his shaggy mane. "What can we do?" she begged."Doesn't any one know how to
set a pony's leg?"
Harry shook his head. "You know it's hopeless, Jack. There is but onething to do for Hotspur. I can ride back to the ranch for help, but itwould only prolong his pain."
"You mean you must shoot him, don't you, Harry?" Jack asked.
Jean and Frank both turned away their heads. Even in the moonlight, theycould see that Jack's face was ghastly white and her lips almost blue.Only Jean knew how much Jacqueline cared for her pony; he had been herfather's gift and for the past three years Jack had hardly ever riddenany other horse, unless Hotspur were too weary to carry her. The thoughtthat her own heedlessness and obstinacy had brought the disaster onlymade it the harder to bear.
Harry nodded. "It's the only way, Jack, you know."
"All right," Jack answered briefly. "Be quick."
Jean's tears were blinding her but Jack looked straight ahead.
"Take the girls toward home with you, Frank," Harry suggested. "I'llcome afterwards."
"I would rather wait until it is over," Jack begged. "It is my faultthat this has happened and I won't go away like a coward, Hotspur wouldlike to hear my voice until the end." Jack felt her eyes burn and herthroat swell as now and then she patted the quivering broncho.
Jean led her cousin a short distance off, but Jack's eyes never left herpony. She saw Harry get out his pistol, load it and point straight atHotspur. A single shot rang out, a long tremor ran through the horse'sbody, a single sound like a sigh shook it and Jack's best beloved friendand servant was gone forever.
"Take me back to the ranch, please," she whispered hoarsely, all hercourage gone. Harry lifted her on his broncho and for a time walkedbeside her. Then Frank changed places and Harry rode. For a part of thetime, Jack cried silently. She had not mentioned the pain in her arm,although it grew stiffer each moment, but now and then she winced.
"You are hurt, aren't you, Miss Ralston?" Frank questioned. "I wasafraid you were all along." But Jack shook her head; she could think ofnothing but Hotspur.
Jean, however, was thinking of something else. She remembered that itwas after midnight and they were not yet back at the Simpson ranch.What would Aunt Sallie and Mr. Simpson say? And what would Laura andMrs. Post think of them? Jean shivered, for now that the excitement oftheir trip with its sad ending was over, she realised that she and Jackought never to have gone off riding alone. Poor Jean's cheeks were hotwith blushes, in spite of her shivers. She and Jack had not meant to doanything wrong, still they ought to have known better. Was it becausethey had no mother that neither of them had thought?
Just before they reached the ranch, Jack turned a white face toward theother truants. "Remember, please, that whatever blame we receive forto-night's ride, the fault is all mine; I proposed the ride, I would gofarther when Jean asked me to turn back. Don't anybody say anythingdifferent, for you know it is true."
Frank Kent listened silently. He made no reply, but it was hardly hisidea that a man should allow a girl to shoulder all the blame for anymistake.
Mrs. Simpson and her husband rushed down from the veranda, and werefollowed by a few of Jean's, Jack's and Harry's most intimate friends.Dan Norton was waiting for Frank, with an unpleasant grin on his face.Laura and most of the company had gone to bed, but Laura's mothersurveyed the two ranch girls with an expression they had never seen intheir free happy girlhood.
"I shall never forgive you children as long as I live," Aunt Sallieexclaimed angrily. "Where in the world have you been? I knew you hadbeen left to your own devices, Jean and Jack, but I did think you hadmore judgment than to ride across the country at this time of thenight."
"It was all my fault," Jack repeated humbly. "We meant to go for just ashort ride and I didn't think you would care, but we went farther andfarther and Hotspur broke his leg, so we had to come back with just thethree horses. Jean did want to turn back sooner, Aunt Sallie," Jackwhispered. They were now inside the ranch house, under the lights of thelamps. "Please don't scold her. I know I did very wrong and I'm sorry;won't you please let me explain better in the morning?"
And then Jack saw everything slipping away from her and the place grewhorribly dark. Big Mr. Simpson caught her in his arms.
"There, Sallie, don't scold any more to-night," he ordered. "The childis worn out. She did wrong, of course, but I expect she has beenpunished enough by losing her pony. It's the boys who are most to blame,I'll warrant you. Of course they led the girls on this wild goosechase."
Harry and Frank Kent eagerly bowed their heads. "I didn't think youwould believe any such nonsense as Miss Ralston has been telling you,"Frank avowed. "Of course Mr. Pryor and I are responsible for the rideand everything that occurred," he ended, with more gallantry than truth.
Aunt Sallie might have kept up her scolding all night, for she was agood-hearted woman with a very high temper, adored by her successfulhusband and accustomed to having her own way, but she saw that Jack wasin pain. There was something in the girl's white face with the darkcircles under her eyes and the look of penitence and pain instead of herusual almost haughty expression, that touched her.
"Come to bed, child," she said suddenly. She caught Jack's arm. For thefirst time, the girl gave a cry of pain at her own hurt. "I think I havesprained my shoulder a little, Aunt Sallie," she explained quietly. "Iwill be all right in the morning."
It was another hour before Mrs. Simpson got Jack's shoulder properlybandaged and had her stored away in bed. Fortunately, the shoulder wasonly sprained, not broken. Yet Jack could not sleep; it was not alonethe pain that kept her awake, but the realization that she and Jean wereno longer little girls and could not do what they liked without athought. It was she who had led Jean into mischief, yet try as shemight, she could not bear the whole burden of the wrongdoing, and shewished to-night, that the ranch girls had some one to look after them,some older woman.
The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge Page 9