The Ranch Girls at Rainbow Lodge

by Margaret Vandercook

  CHAPTER XX.

  OLIVE.

  ON the day when Jacqueline Ralston's pony ran away so unexpectedly, andFrank Kent commanded Olive to get out of danger, Olive had watched themboth for a few minutes in a kind of daze. She had then moved slowlybackward, keeping them both in sight, until she dimly saw Jack's leapfrom her horse. She then continued alone along the trail which she andJack had traveled that morning, until the men and the cattle at theround-up were entirely out of sight, supposing that Frank and Jack wouldfollow her as soon as they crossed the field.

  Olive stopped her horse finally. She was not looking about her, northinking of anything in particular except her joy in Jack's safety. Sheheard no sound.

  Someone crept up behind her with the stealthiness possible only to anIndian. Suddenly Olive felt her hands drawn behind her and she wasforcibly dragged from her horse.

  Two or three times only she cried for help, but before she could domore, a handkerchief was tied tightly about her lips and she was halfdragged and half carried to one of the very tents which she and Jack hadpassed that morning on their way to the fateful round-up.

  Old Laska sat stolidly smoking a pipe. "Ugh," she grunted, but hersmall, beady eyes flashed like coals in the sunlight.

  Although Olive was the last person she expected to see at such a moment,she took the girl from Josef without a word, and held her so that shecould not get away. Josef disappeared immediately. He must have gone tohide Olive's pony from sight.

  Olive struggled, but she could make no outcry, and in a little whileLaska bound her so that she could scarcely move. The girl was a captiveinside the tent at the moment when Frank Kent and Jack passed it,unheeding, on their return to Rainbow Lodge.

  The Indian woman and her son had not thought to capture Olive at such atime and place. But they had vowed to get hold of her by any means theycould. From the instant Josef discovered that Olive had come to theround-up, he had not lost sight of her and when he found her alone, hewas ready.

  All afternoon she lay in the tightly closed tent with Laska, neither oneof the women moving, Olive being in a stupor from terror and pain. Byand by, when the dusk fell, Josef appeared silently at the tententrance, leading Olive's pony and a horse for his mother. He boundOlive to her horse, and the two women set off across the prairies, Laskawith her bundle across her back and two jugs of water swung over hersaddle.

  Through all the long, cold night, Laska traveled across the barrenplains with her hand on Olive's bridle. At first there were shadowyfences that marked the division of one ranch from another. These weresoon lost and the way lay through a trackless waste, unbroken by a trailof man or animal. Laska had gone into the desert where there was no dropof pure water.

  In the morning the Indian woman rested, built a fire, untied Olive andfed her, knowing that if the girl ran away from her now she would not beable to go back the way they had come. She must be lost and could notfail to perish from hunger and thirst. Still Laska guarded her closely.

  On the morning of the third day of their journeying, Olive saw on thefar horizon some curling wreaths of smoke. Nearer there were a few leanhorses grazing on the scanty sage grass. A dozen Indian tepees were setup in what seemed a small oasis in the desert. She knew that Laska hadbrought her to the winter quarters of a small band of Indians who wouldnot stay in a village overlooked and regulated by the United StatesGovernment. These Indians lived the old nomad life, wandering from placeto place, setting up their tents like gypsies, wherever they couldremain unmolested.

  Olive almost gave up hope. Here in the wilderness she would never comein contact with any one from the outside world. When the spring came,the Indians would gather up their belongings and wander farther away,taking her with them, where she could have no chance of return.

  Laska and Olive had a tent of their own. In it they lived for some time,rarely speaking to one another. Nobody was unkind to her and for somereason Laska left her alone. It was growing bitterly cold and the oldwoman used to sit smoking all day by the fire, either in her own wigwamor one nearby. She did not try to watch Olive, knowing that she couldnot get away. Laska had told her that she should never leave the Indiansagain; that they would return no more to the neighborhood of the whitemen and Olive seemed quietly to accept her fate. Even Laska, who hadtrained the girl in her own school of silence, was deceived by her. Shethought that Olive no longer cared enough to go back to dare the perilsof the trip.

  At first it did appear utterly impossible to Olive. She had not thefaintest idea in what direction she and Laska had traveled and onarriving among the Indians, her pony had been taken away from her. Shehad no food except the little bit she was allowed each day, barelyenough to live on and knew that at any time now, the swift and bittersnowstorms of the prairies might fall. Any traveler caught out in one ofthem would surely perish and not be found until the snow melted.

  There were many hours, when Olive thought she would run away anyhow andtake whatever fate came to her. But the memory of Jack, and Jean andFrieda, Cousin Ruth and Rainbow Lodge sustained her. A little timebefore and she had not known any happiness. Now the thought of the joyshe would feel if she ever got home again, gave her patience and courageto wait.

  Few of the older Indians paid much attention to the captive. Whateverstory old Laska had told them, they had accepted without question. Theyspoke very little English and rarely stirred, except when the men wentoff on long hunting expeditions to return with whatever deer theymanaged to slay.

  Olive had only one friend, one person, with whom she talked in the weeksshe spent in the Indian camp. This was Carlos, a young Indian boy, abouttwelve years old. He was as slender and straight as a young pine tree,the fastest runner, the best rider and shot in the tribe. She had paidlittle attention to the boy at first, but he followed her like a shadow.Often when she came out of her tent, she would find him sitting like abrown image on the cold ground. The boy was like an Eskimo and appearedto feel neither hunger nor frost.

  One day Olive set out for a walk. She did not wish Carlos to go withher, but before she had gone many rods the boy appeared at her side andquietly marched beside her, looking neither to the right nor the left.

  "Go back, Carlos," Olive commanded quietly.

  The boy shook his head. "You travel not alone over the prairies, you donot know your way," he answered stolidly.

  Olive's patience gave out. She seized the boy by the shoulders, tearscame into her soft black eyes and her face quivered. "You are hired tospy on me, Carlos," she said accusingly. "I thought I had one friend inyou."

  Again Carlos shook his head. "Why should I spy on you?" he asked. "Whatis it you would do?"

  Then Olive told the boy what had happened to her.

  Very quietly he listened. "I knew you were not of our people," heanswered. "I will find the way for you to get back home. You are a womanand timid. Have faith in me."

  Olive smiled, and from this day she called the Indian boy, "LittleBrother," but she had no hope of his helping her and she saw him farless often. Carlos was away from the camp nearly every day, returningwith rabbits that he shot on the plains. Olive saw him drying the skinsand sometimes he brought her their meat to eat, but he never referred tohis promise to show her a way of escape from the Indian camp.

  The days were long, but the nights were far longer and the longtwilights the saddest time of all. Olive sat often in the tent alone.

  One evening Laska had departed earlier than usual to the wigwam of aneighboring squaw and Olive was huddled up on the dry grass in front oftheir fire, trying to keep from freezing. The air was filled with smoke.The girl looked scornfully at the two beds of straw, covered with coarseIndian blankets, where she and Indian Laska slept. Before her eyes camethe vision of the splendid living-room at Rainbow Lodge. She could seethe ranch girls and their cousin before the great fire and wondered ifthey ever thought of her now. Olive did not know how long a time hadpassed since she was stolen.

  Sticking out from under Laska's bed was the bundle which she had b
orneon her back across the plains. Until this moment she had kept it hiddenfrom Olive, except during their trip, when she had gotten their foodfrom it.

  Olive was not particularly interested in her discovery. But it occurredto her that this bag might have something to eat in it, which would aidher, if she could manage to get away. She drew out the dirty sheepskinbag and thrust her hand into it, shuddering at the things she touched.There were some odd bits of soiled clothing and a small package, tied upin an old, red cotton handkerchief. Olive had seen the package in thehandkerchief before, in Laska's hut in the village. But she had neverbeen interested to find out what it contained. To-night she cared foranything that would break the monotony of the long hours ahead of her.

  Olive looked cautiously at the tent opening. The place was entirelystill. There was not a sound in the lonely tepee, save the blowing ofthe winter winds across the desert. The girl crawled to a spot where thefire cast its brightest glow. Patiently she worked at the hard knots inthe handkerchief. There was a roll of money in it tied up with a cord.Olive tossed the money impatiently aside. What use was money to her inthis wild land? Olive had known always that Laska got money from someunknown source. She always had more than the other Indians in theirvillage, and Jack had explained to Olive that this money was sent toLaska for taking care of her. Olive searched for a bit of paper,something to show from what place or from whom this money came. Butthere was no scrap of anything of that sort.

  Beside the money, there was a small box in the handkerchief. It was ofdelicate, carved wood and smelled very sweet. Olive saw at once that thecarving had never been made by Indians. It was far too fine.

  She was so intent on opening this box that she did not hear a stealthynoise just outside her tent.

  The lid of the sandalwood chest slid gently off. Inside, Olive beheldsome trinkets, which she knew in a moment of swift rapture, must belongto her. One was a curiously wrought old silver chain, with a beautifulcross hanging from it. A watch, large enough to belong to a man, had agirl's picture painted in it which made Olive catch her breath. Thepicture she knew looked like her, only it was far lovelier. This girlhad the same brilliant yet soft black eyes, the same straight, glossyhair and the deep, olive coloring. She was not an American, but Oliveknew there was no trace of Indian blood in this woman. Whatever Indianblood ran in Olive's veins, she guessed she must have inherited from herfather. Beside the watch and chain, the carved box held but one moretreasure. It was a little book about four inches square, written in alanguage that Olive could not understand.

  The noise at the tent opening grew more distinct. Some one was peeringthrough a tiny opening, yet Olive seemed to have neither eyes nor ears.Her face was flushed with happiness and she held the odd, sweet-smellingbox close against her cheek.

  Someone entered the tent. At last Olive awakened and springing to herfeet, thrust her treasures inside her dress. With her eyes flaming, sheturned to face her enemy; for Olive had not lived all her life amongnearly savage people without learning something from them. She meant tofight now to save her possessions, as a real Indian girl would havefought to the last moment of her strength.

  But instead of the ugly face of old Laska staring at her, Olive saw theslight figure of Carlos, the Indian boy.

  Olive held out her treasures eagerly. "Look what I have found," sheexclaimed. "I know they must be mine."

  The Indian boy regarded the pieces of jewelry gravely. To him theyappeared like any other trinkets that the Indians loved.

  "I have come to tell you how you may return to your white friends,"Carlos announced proudly. "I told you that a man would find a way. It isonly women who give up."

  Olive shook her lovely head, her thoughts still dwelling with herdiscovery. She did not understand exactly what the Indian lad said.

  He caught at her dress and pulled it impatiently. "Listen, woman. I havefound a way for you to get back to your ranch-land. Do you hear me, oris it that you have changed your mind like all women and do not now wishto go?"

  Olive laughed. It was so funny to hear this small boy take thepatronizing tone with her that the men of his race used toward allwomen. She put her arm about him and drew him down on the floor by her.The flickering lights of the fire played on the two dark heads, her hairfine and soft as silk, his stiff and straight as a young colt's mane.

  "Of course I want to go back to my friends, Little Brother," Olivesighed. "But let's don't talk of that to-night, I want to be a littlebit happy in thinking that I have found something that must once havebelonged to my mother."

  But the boy would not be persuaded. "We must talk of your getting awayto-night, for the time is ready," Carlos declared, in the solemn tone ofa young Indian chief making ready for battle. "You know I have been outon the prairies for many days together and no one knew where or for whatI had gone. I have wandered in many directions seeking for the home ofsome white man, for I know that however much the Indian pretends he isin a wilderness, he is always to-day on the border of the white man'sland."

  "Well, have you found a friend to help me?" Olive demanded fervently.

  "I have found no friend," Carlos replied, refusing to be hurried ordisturbed. "But I have found an iron trail that stretches across thedesert. It must bring you to where the white people dwell."

  "An iron trail," Olive repeated wonderingly. "I am afraid I don't knowwhat you mean."

  The boy gazed at her with slow, unmoved patience. "It has an ironcarriage on it that flies along the trail more swiftly than any horsecan run," Carlos explained. "There is great heat and noise and smokelike a prairie fire."

  Olive caught the boy's hand in hers. "You mean an engine and a railroadtrack, don't you, Little Brother?" she queried. "You have seen a trainsomewhere out on the desert. You will take me to it and somehow I willfind people to help me to get back to Rainbow Lodge." Olive flung herarms about Carlos and hugged him as she might have hugged Frieda. Shepoured out such a flood of questions, that the boy was convinced he wasright in his scorn of her sex, but he listened with deep gravity.

  "I do not know all things," he replied finally. "Only I have laid allday on the ground near the trail. I know the hour when the iron carriagepasses over it. The walk is a long one, but if you will follow me, Iwill take you there. I will come for you to-night just before the dawnbreaks. When you hear an owl hoot, you will know that Carlos is outsideyour door. You will creep softly, so that we may have several hoursbefore old Laska wakes. I will bring food and the skins of many wildrabbits that I have sewed together in the evenings, that you may notfreeze."