The Ranch Girls' Pot of Gold

by Margaret Vandercook

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE SUSPENSE AND WHAT HAPPENED AFTERWARDS

  Peter Drummond, returning for the two girls with Donald, found Jack.Elizabeth, who had not dared stir, could only point dumbly to theoverhanging abyss, without voice to express her terror.

  Donald got his sister back to their hotel, and upstairs in the room withher mother, without any member of the caravan party knowing of theirreturn.

  In an incredibly short space of time men came with rope ladders to wherePeter watched and waited, and one of them brought Jack's body up,putting it gently down on the grass. Some one else explained that afamous doctor who was a guest at the hotel would be with them in a fewminutes.

  So Mr. Drummond, alone of all her friends, knelt with the strange mentrying to find a spark of life in the unconscious form and still, coldface of the girl who had been the embodiment of grace and vitality lessthan a half hour before.

  Jim, Ruth, the three other girls and Carlos were having their breakfastin the dining room, when the head waiter came and told Jim that Mr.Drummond wished to speak to him for a moment alone on business.

  No one was in the least uneasy about Jack's failure to return. As it wasnatural to suppose it would take some time to see Elizabeth escortedhome in safety, they had decided not to wait for her. Besides, no oneever thought that anything could happen to Jack; she seemed one of thepersons in the world best fitted to care for herself and to help lookafter other people. Here was the old story once more repeating itself:when the beloved one was in grave danger, as Jack was during the nightof her enforced stay in the wilderness, on the trip to Miner's Folly,she had turned up serene and unhurt; now when trouble was the farthestthing from their imagination, she was being brought back to them and noone knew whether she were alive or dead.

  One sight of Peter's haggard face told Jim that something had happened,but he supposed Elizabeth Harmon to be the victim. Peter was wiseenough not to delay in letting him know the truth. There is no easy wayto break bad news, for the shock must always come in the end, so it isbest to make the suspense as short as possible. Besides, Mr. Drummondknew that the physician was even now having Jack carried home to thehotel and the little procession might arrive at any moment.

  The girls had thought nothing of Jim's disappearance, from the table,but Ruth had not liked the expression on the face of the man who calledhim away. Suddenly she was seized with a premonition of disaster.Excusing herself, with the explanation that she wanted something in herroom, she slipped out after Jim so quietly that neither he nor Mr.Drummond saw or heard her approach until Peter's story was told. Andthen it was not Ruth, but Jim Colter who broke down. The big, strong manstaggered, and such a queer sound came from between his white lips thatRuth laid a shaking hand on him and Mr. Drummond caught him by the arm.

  "Remember the girls, Jim," Ruth said almost sternly. "This is the timeto think of _them_, not of our own feelings. Mr. Drummond, I must goback to them first. Will you see that everything is----"

  Ruth could not go on, but Peter understood. He was to see that allnecessary arrangements were made to receive the doctor, who was still tofind out if there was any chance of restoring Jack to consciousness.

  By the time Ruth returned to the dining room the news of the accidenthad somehow spread among most of the guests at breakfast. Only the ranchgirls were entirely unconscious. Jean was teasing Frieda and Olive waslaughing at them, when Ruth put her hand on Jean's shoulder. "Come outof the room with me as quickly and quietly as possible," she whispered.

  "It's Jack, isn't it?" Olive asked with the calmness that so often comesin the first moment of sorrow, and Ruth silently bowed her head.

  For an hour Ruth and the girls waited in their room. Ruth and Olive hadasked to see Jack, but were not allowed to stay with her. Now and thenMr. Drummond, or Donald Harmon, or Jim would come in to them for a fewmoments, but would soon slip out again promising to return when therewas news. Jean and Frieda cried in each other's arms until they wereblind and sick, but neither Olive nor Ruth shed a tear, so differentlydo people bear trouble. It seemed that half a lifetime must have passedwhen the door was suddenly flung open and Jim Colter walked into theroom and dropped into a chair. The big, weather-beaten man was cryinglike a child and shaking as though he were in a chill. Frieda ran to himand climbed into his lap, putting her arms about his neck and buryingher face on his shoulder. Olive and Jean opened their mouths to speak,but no words came from their dry lips. The hope that had been sustainingthem vanished at the sight of Jim's broken appearance. Only Ruthunderstood.

  "Tell us at once, Jim. It isn't fair to make us wait," she said quietly,guessing that his tears were the tears of relief. "She will live?"

  Jim nodded. "Jack opened her eyes a minute ago and said, 'Hello, Jim,'"he answered brokenly. "The doctor says she is pretty badly hurt, but shewill pull through."

  Then Ruth, hardly knowing what she was doing, leaned over and kissed Jimon his forehead under the line of his black hair, and above the level ofhis deeply blue Irish eyes. Quite unexpectedly she and Olive now beganto cry for the first time, while Jean and Frieda and Jim were radiantwith relief.

  Ten days later the family from the Rainbow Ranch, accompanied by Mr.Drummond, left the Yellowstone Park for a small town on its borders.

  Jack was able to be moved, and they had rented a little furnished houseon the outskirts of the near-by village, hoping that the quiet andchange of scenery might benefit her. She had broken her leg by her fallover the precipice, but something else more serious appeared to be thematter with her, something that the doctor did not exactly understand.She had not been able to sit up since the accident.

  A week before the ranch party left the hotel, the Harmons went back tothe Lodge. When Don and his mother found they could be of no service, itwas thought best to take Elizabeth away, for she had never ceased toinsist that the tragedy was her fault and to demand to see Jack; andthis was impossible. But Mr. Drummond had stayed on and on. Even afterhe had seen Jack safely moved he seemed unwilling to leave. The littlehouse was so tiny that there was only room for them and on the frontporch for one cot and one chair, but he lived at a hotel and came eachday to talk to the invalid and to take the other girls for long walks.Peter had a long, confidential talk with Ruth and Jim, and made thempromise that unless Jack grew better after the summer's rest they wouldbring her on to New York in the fall to consult with famous specialists.He did not dream that they would have to sell a part of the ranch tomanage it; but this was what they had quietly made up their minds to do,although Jack was not to be told, for fear of upsetting her, and Jim didnot mean to close the bargain with Mr. Harmon until he was able to getback to the ranch.

  The tiny house had been a haven of refuge for two weeks when PeterDrummond found that he was obliged to leave. He had persuaded the girlsand Ruth to go for a last walk with him, leaving Jim as Jack's guardian.She was asleep on the porch when they slipped out the back door soquietly she had not awakened.

  You would hardly have known Jack, so great a change had the last fewweeks wrought in her. She had suffered a great deal and the radiantcolor had gone from her face, leaving it white and drawn; her full,crimson lips were pale and drooping now; her dark, level eyebrows lookedlike thin lines of black penciling and her lashes made a shadow againstthe pallor of her cheeks. Only her hair, the color of burnished copper,shone with its old beauty. It was Olive's special care, and now hung inthe two familiar braids almost reaching to the porch floor.

  Jack had been awake for some time before Jim realized it. She had beenvery quiet during her illness, and to the relief of them all had askedno questions about herself, apparently taking it for granted that shewas not to be allowed to sit up and could only be moved lying down.Jack's leg was in a plaster cast and her friends believed she regardedthis as a sufficient reason for being kept perfectly quiet. Yet all thetime she knew that had her leg been the only trouble she would have beenallowed to get about on crutches and to sit up to eat her meals, insteadof being eternally propped on p
illows when she tried to stir.

  Jack had asked no questions, because she did not wish to give anyone thepain of telling her the truth until she was strong enough to bear it.But there had not been a waking hour in the day or night when thevision of Elizabeth Harmon's misfortune had not been present before hermind, and the idea that she might have a greater sorrow to face. FrankKent had telegraphed to ask if he might come to his friends, but Jackhad asked that he wait; she could not bear to see even him just yet.

  Jim Colter's eyes were fixed on Jack as sadly and tenderly as herfather's could have been, had he been alive, when unexpectedly shelifted her lashes and her gray eyes met her friends with their old bravespirit. She stared a long time with her lips twitching before she spoke.

  "What is it, boss? You've got something on your mind that you want tospeak about, haven't you?" Jim inquired gently. "The girls think it's agood sign you don't ask questions, but I'm not so sure. You are likesome men. Dear, I know you. You can take your medicine when you have to,but you can't be left in the dark. Ask Jim anything you like, and Ipromise I'll tell you the truth."

  "Are we by ourselves?" Jack asked huskily, and Jim nodded. "Then willyou tell me please if I am ever going to be able to walk again?" shequeried without hesitating or faltering, keeping her clear eyes still onJim's.

  "We don't know, Jack," Jim replied, like a soldier, "but I believe youwill. The doctors we have seen out here don't seem able to say just whatis the matter with you. They tell us to give you a chance to getstronger this summer and then take you east."

  Jack closed her eyes for a few moments and lay perfectly still. Then sheopened them and smiled a queer, little, twisted smile. "We haven't gotthe money to take me east, pard," she murmured, "and don't you sell anypart of our ranch. I'll fool the doctors yet, but if I've got tobe--ill," Jack ended, "why I'd rather be sick at home than any place inthe world."

  Jim cleared his throat and moved his chair so his companion could notlook directly at him.

  "Pardner," Jack said a few minutes afterwards, "I don't want to beimpatient, but I do want to go home _now_. Couldn't you write and askMr. Harmon to give up the ranch a little sooner than October? They can'twant to be at Rainbow Lodge as much as I do." She looked at the darkhill that rose straight up in front of their tiny verandah and dreamedof the beautiful, spacious piazza in front of her home, with the groveof cottonwood trees ahead and on every side the stretch of the broad,wind-swept prairies, and sighed.

  Jim felt such a rush of anger that his collar choked him. "I havewritten Mr. Harmon to ask him to let us come back; I knew you washomesick, boss," he returned slowly. "But Mr. Harmon says he can't giveup the Lodge until his contract is over, says it's doing his daughtersuch a lot of good and she hasn't yet recovered from her nervous shock.Fine behavior from a man, when you saved his child's life!"

  In half an hour, Ruth, Mr. Drummond, the girls and Carlos came troopingback from an effort to buy out the village. Peter was going to saygood-by to Jack, and, as Ruth saw she was even paler than usual, shepersuaded Jean to take the two children indoors. They had brought Jackeverything they could find in the town, and Olive had a large packageaddressed to her friend in Elizabeth Harmon's writing, which she foundat the post office. Listlessly Jack allowed Olive to cut the string andunwrap the pasteboard from about the flat envelope. Then Olive held upbefore them all a new and beautiful photograph of the RainbowLodge--Aunt Ellen and Uncle Zack were standing in the yard, old Shep wasresting on the steps of the porch and there was a suggestion of Jean'sand Frieda's violet beds to one side. Poor Elizabeth had thought to giveJack a pleasure, but instead the sight of the home she longed for sointensely was more than the girl could bear after the strain of theafternoon. Suddenly she gave way and sobbed as she had not done sinceher accident. "I want to go home, I want to go home," Jack repeated,like a sick child.

  Ruth dropped on the porch, hiding her face in the shawl that coveredJack. Olive and even Mr. Drummond were too choked to think of anythingcomforting to say. And as for Jim Colter, he got up and stalked off theverandah, marching up and down in the little yard like a caged animalwhose anger and bitterness cannot be quietly endured.

  Five minutes later it was surprising to see him reappear with a radiantexpression, every wrinkle miraculously smoothed out of his face and hisblue eyes smiling. He sat down in his chair and tenderly patted Jack'shand, then struck his knee with such a resounding clap that everybodyjumped and Jack laughed.

  "What is it, Jim?" she inquired. "I am sorry I have been such a goose."

  "Why, I have just been thinking what a parcel of idiots we are," he saidhappily. "You girls ain't ever thought much of it, but I want you toknow that Rainbow Lodge ain't the only house on our place. What's thematter with the rancho? We ain't rented _it_ to the Harmons, and thecowboys would be only too glad to turn out with me into some tents andhand our house over to you girls. What do you say to our taking thetrain for the Rainbow Ranch about the day after to-morrow? That willgive me time to telegraph the boys to vacate. Think you could manage tomake the trip in a sleeper, old girl, with me to see after you?" hedemanded of Jack.

  And the radiance of Jack's face, into which a slow rose color wascreeping, was enough answer for them all.