Dorothy on a Ranch

The lad flushed. He had been duly instructed by both parents in the duties of a host, even a young one; and he knew it was his business to see that all his guests were helped to enjoy themselves as they, not he, desired. It was the first time that he had had any responsibility of this sort and it didn’t greatly please him. Now when he found they were all looking at him in that aggrieved way he tossed his head, thrust his hands into his pockets, and answered:

“I know I proposed it and thought I’d like it, but I’ve changed my mind and now think it would get to be a confounded nuisance. I’ve never done anything, regularly, as you talk about, and I don’t see any use in beginning at this late day when – ”

“When you’re getting so old and infirm, poor dear!” said Molly, interrupting. In reality she cared little what they did at San Leon, so long as they were all together and having a good time. But she saw on Dorothy’s expressive face a keener disappointment than the affair seemed to warrant and loyally placed herself in support of her chum.

Leslie went on as if she hadn’t spoken, though he glanced her way with a promise in his eyes to “get even” with her for that mockery:

“We’re up here on the mountains for a summer holiday. What’s the use of making it a work day, then? It would be work – sure enough. There’d be lots of mornings when every one of us would hate it. Oh! you needn’t look that way. You all would, sure. What’s fun when you feel like it is quite the other thing when you don’t. And nine o’clock comes pretty early in the morning. Doesn’t it, Miss Dorothy?”

The laugh was upon her and she joined in it. Yet she hadn’t one whit abandoned her plan of helping Leslie against himself. But there was no use in arguing, and, small woman that she was, she tried strategy instead.

“Well, Leslie, you make me think of Mr. Seth Winter’s story about the eleven contrary jurymen. All ‘contrary’ except the one who couldn’t get his own way. No matter, nobody wants to force you into hard work. Though I suppose you’ll be willing, we, your guests, shall do as we please?”

“Certainly,” he replied with an absurdly profound bow, to which Dorothy merrily returned a sweeping courtesy.

“Then the rest of us who have given our word will keep it. We will be on hand every morning, Captain, to be drilled in the noble tactics of the soldier. Aunt Betty says everybody always finds use for all the knowledge he possesses. Aunt Betty knows. She’s lived almost as long as all our ages put together, and she’s the very happiest person I ever saw. I don’t know anything about soldiering yet but I’m going to learn what I can with this splendid teacher to instruct me – ” here she made another profound obeisance to Captain Lem, who returned the courtesy by his finest military salute, mentally appraising the earnest little girl as the best of them all.

“So that I shall have one more thing to put in my knowledge-box, ready to use if I ever need it. And while we are drilling you can amuse yourself otherwise, Leslie dear. Now, Captain, can’t we go on and find out what wonderful thing is hidden in that corral behind these Barracks?”

“Sure. Forward, march!”

He faced forward again and even Leslie fell into step behind the others, willing to join in such “foolishness” as a temporary amusement.

In fine order they reached the further end of the long building, marched around its rear, and came upon what Dorothy thought was a most beautiful sight. Within the wide paddock, or corral, as these westerners called it, was a small herd of young, thoroughbred horses. From a little stand outside the paling, Mr. and Mrs. Ford were watching the handsome creatures and talking with the grooms that attended them, concerning their good, and possibly, bad qualities.

But at the sound of the approaching “squad” Lady Gray turned an eager face and called out, reprovingly:

“Oh! my dears, how slow you have been! If I were your age and had been promised a horse for my very own, I shouldn’t have tarried on the way!”

“Our very own? What do you mean, dear Mrs. Ford?” asked Dorothy, hastening to bid her tardy “Good morning,” before she more than glanced across the fence.

“Just what I say, dear. Mr. Ford has had eight horses brought in for you young folks to use. Each is to make a choice for herself or himself, subject to change if any necessity for it. Your choice is to be your own property and I hope will give you lots of pleasure. Captain Lem and some of the other good horsemen will teach you anything you need to know. Why, my dears! How astonished you look! Didn’t you understand? Didn’t Leslie tell you?”

For, indeed, surprise had kept them silent. None had guessed of having a horse of her “own,” supposing from Leslie’s words that they were only to have the loan of an animal during their stay at San Leon. Alfaretta broke the silence, explaining:

“No, he didn’t say any such thing. He said we was to come choose horses to ride, and when he said one was white I picked that out at once. I – can’t really believe you mean it, Mrs. Ford, though – course – Ma Babcock – I never heard o’ such folks – never – never – in my life. It certainly does beat the Dutch. I – Alfy Babcock – Dolly Doodles – Jolly Molly – Helena – to have horses of our own – it makes me cry! I, Alfy Babcock, ownin’ a whole horse! Oh! My!”

“Then I shall be very, very sorry the idea ever entered my husband’s mind, of making such a gift. We don’t want tears – we just want happiness, perfect happiness, up here at San Leon!” said beautiful Gray Lady, smiling, and looking fairer than ever in this new delight of making gifts, as freely as she wished. Her own life had grown so much happier, these last months, that she longed only to “pass on” happiness to all whom she knew. Alfy’s tears really hurt her, for a moment, till Dolly explained, with an arm about the weeper’s waist:

“I reckon these must be what I’ve heard of as ‘happy tears,’ dear Lady Gray. Alfy is too pleased to do anything else – even to say ‘thank you’ – yet.”

Queer little Alfy had dropped her head on Dorothy’s shoulder and was repeating in a low tone:

“A whole horse of my own! Mine, Alfy Babcock’s! A whole horse – a whole – livin’ – horse – A – whole – horse!”

“Well, you wouldn’t want a half one, would you, Miss Babcock? Nor one that wasn’t living?” demanded Monty, laughing. “Quit crying and let’s choose, for that’s what Leslie said we were to do. Is that correct, Mr. Ford?”

“Entirely. But – see to it that your choice falls each on a different animal! Suppose you begin, alphabetically. Alfaretta first.”

Such a group of radiant faces as now peered over the paling! while without a second’s hesitation, Alfaretta announced:

“I choose that pure white one for mine!”

“All right. Captain Lem, lead out Blanca and put on her side saddle,” directed Mr. Ford.

A passage was opened in the paling and the beautiful Blanca was led forth, amid a murmur of admiration from everybody, except the girl herself. She could only stand, clasping and unclasping her hands, and gazing with dim eyes at this wonderful possession. The handsome saddle cloth was marked Blanca, and Mr. Ford explained that each animal was registered and its name had been chosen by its breeder. Most of these names were Spanish and suited well; as that Blanca meant “white,” which the gentle little mare certainly was. To another corner of the saddle cloth, Captain Lem slowly attached the initial “A,” as mark of ownership, then beckoned to Alfy that she should mount.

All her mates watched her curiously, expecting to see her timid and reluctant. She treated them to a fine surprise; first by running to Lady Gray and rapturously kissing her hand, then returning to Lemuel, and letting him swing her up to the saddle, without an instant’s hesitation. Dorothy stared, amazed; but she needn’t have done so: Alfy was “her mother’s daughter” as the saying goes, and inherited that good woman’s love of horseflesh and fearlessness; and as she settled herself and received the bridle reins she kept murmuring the marvellous fact:

“A whole horse – mine! And Ma Babcock’s only got Barnaby!”

“Who is ‘Barnaby,’ Alfy?” asked Leslie, going round to her side and critically inspecting her treasure.

“Oh – he – Why, he’s a mule!”

A shout of laughter greeted this announcement and Lemuel moved away. He was disappointed that the beautiful Blanca had not fallen to Dorothy’s share, for he believed the white filly to be the best as well as the handsomest creature in the corral. However, her turn was next, and he listened anxiously to hear what it might be. He wished she wouldn’t be so over-generous in offering the choice to her mates, and in saying that if she disappointed them she wanted to change.

“All are so fine. It can’t make a bit of difference to me.”

“Choose! Choose! You dear old slow-poke, for I’m just dying to do so, too. I can’t wait – do choose!” cried impatient Molly, skipping about and trying to cut short Dorothy’s hesitation.

“All right, then. I choose the ‘calico’. She’s so like another Portia that I used to ride ‘back home.’”

“Zaraza, for Dolly. A Spanish title, too, dear, and means ‘chintz’ – a ‘calico’, if you please. Lead her out, Lem!”

The pretty creature was brought out, arching her graceful neck and lifting her dainty hoofs as if she were dancing to music, as she was now to the clapping of hands and lusty cheers of healthy young throats. Then she was saddled, a decorative “D” attached to her saddle-cloth, Dorothy put upon her back, to take her stand beside Alfaretta on Blanca, while the others chose and were mounted.

“It has been a real ceremony and a delightful one! Here’s to the health and happiness of our young equestrians! Hip, hip, hurra!” cried the master of the ranch, with a boyish heartiness that sent the hats of the ranchmen from their heads and their voices echoing the gay “Hip, hip, hurra!”

But, despite her happiness, Dorothy’s face was thoughtful. There had been eight horses in the corral, as there had been, at first, eight young guests at San Leon. To Helena had been allotted a fine bay, big and powerful as well as comely, by name Benito; to Herbert a black, chosen by him for its resemblance to his own “Bucephalus,” “back home” where Portia was, and from a sentiment similar to Dolly’s. Then Lady Gray was asked to choose for the absent James Barlow, and did so as calmly as if he had but stepped around the corner and had deputed her to act for him.

But it was noticeable that of all the splendid thoroughbreds within the paddock one was by far the finest. That was a dappled gray, perfect in every, point, and looking as if he were king of that four-footed company.

“For Jim, I choose Azul, the Gray! You all know I love gray in color and I love the ‘blue,’ as his Spanish owners named him. Captain Lemuel, please saddle Azul for Jim Barlow, and, Daniel, will you use him, please, till Jim comes back?”

Dorothy flashed a grateful look upon her hostess, then glanced at Alfaretta, sure of finding sympathy in that girl’s honest eyes. But Alfy nodded, well pleased, and Mr. Ford rode to the head of the little cavalcade and took his place at Dorothy’s side, while the others followed, two by two, to make a circuit of the grounds and test their mounts.

The men cheered again and again as the procession started, Mr. Ford and Dorothy leading; then Leslie on the sorrel, Cæsar, with Alfy on Blanca; Helena on Benito, with Monty on the chestnut, Juan – a mount well suited to his stature and requirements. Last rode Molly on Juana, another chestnut, and a perfect match for her brother – Monty’s Juan; while Herbert’s Blackamoor finished the caravan, last but by no means least in the creature’s own proud estimation.

They paced and they cantered, they trotted and they galloped, even the most inexperienced without fear, because of the vigilant attendants who raced beside them, as well as the high spirits of the others. Around and around the spacious grounds they rode, Captain Lem pointing out several fences and hedges he would have them leap, later on, and finally bringing up before the stately front of the house to dismount.

As they did so Dorothy noticed a queerly dressed little boy sitting beside the fountain holding a basket in his hand and eagerly watching the cavalcade. Nobody else seemed to observe him, amid all the clatter and laughter. He looked to the sympathetic girl as if he were very tired and, leaving the rest, she crossed to him and asked:

“Who are you, little boy? Do you want something?”

Instantly, he offered her the basket, and as instantly vanished.

CHAPTER X

AN UNEXPECTED DEPARTURE

Dorothy looked after the fleeing little figure as it disappeared behind a clump of shrubbery in the direction of the laundry.

“A child of one of the workmen, I suppose, but such an odd, quaint looking child,” she thought, and rejoined her mates. They were still standing beside the cloistered walk, talking, planning the wonderful trips which would be open to them now that they owned horses; comparing notes upon the points of each that they fancied they had already learned, while Mr. Ford declared:

“This really is the most wonderful affair! Not that you have the horses, but that you show no jealousy about them. So far as I can see each of you is perfectly satisfied with his own choice and sure it was the wisest. I only hope our good James Barlow will like his Azul as well. Heigho, Dolly Doodles! What a quaint little basket! An Indian one and fine. Where did you get that?”

“A little boy gave it to me. I suppose it is for Lady Gray, and here she comes.”

The lady had walked across from the Barracks, slowly, sauntering over the beautiful grounds, so fully in accord with them and the glorious day that she was humming an aria from pure lightness of heart. She had not forgotten the missing lad for whom she had chosen the best horse in the herd, but it did not seem now that anything could be really amiss. He would surely soon be back, safe and well, and oh! how good life was! How dear the world, and how gracious that tender Providence which had crowned her life with joy! In this mood she came up to the group awaiting her and Dorothy put the basket into her hands.

She hadn’t expected anything of weight and nearly dropped it.

“Why, dearie, what an exquisite basket! But how heavy it is! What – here – why? See how oddly it’s fastened with rushes or something like them. I’ll sit right here while one of you open it.”

She seated herself upon a carved bench beside a sun-dial and Leslie cut the rushes which were bound tightly about the basket. As he did so a plaintive little wail issued from it, and Lady Gray and he both jumped.

“A baby! A foundling!” laughed Mr. Ford, pretending to be greatly frightened.

“Open it, open it quick, please! I can’t wait!” cried Molly.

At the slightest touch now the lid fell off and there, lying on a mat of softest grass, was a tiny, new-born lamb. Ohs! and Ahs! and laughter greeted it, to which the small creature answered by another feeble “Ma-a-a!” then curled itself to sleep.

“What a pretty present! Who could have sent it?” wondered Lady Gray.

“One of the shepherds, likely; sheep herders they call them here. And it’s the first time I ever saw a lamb ‘snow white.’ The comparison, ‘white as a lamb’ is generally wrong, for they’re a dirty gray. This one has been washed within an inch of its life – literally. Some of you girls better take it to the dairy and give it some milk,” said Mr. Ford.

“Maybe there somebody will know about it or we’ll find the little boy again. He was so cute! Like a small Indian, he looked.”

“He might easily be one, Dorothy. There are still many bands of them roaming the mountains. Quite often, the ‘boys’ say, some come to San Leon. A peaceable lot, though, mostly, unless they get hold of liquor. But liquor turns even cultivated white men into brutes. Not likely we shall see any of them at this time of year, when life in the forest is pleasant.”

“Oh! Daniel, don’t talk of Indians at all! I don’t like them,” protested Mrs. Ford, with a little shudder. “I hope that child wasn’t one.”

“Well, we don’t know that he was. There are many people belonging to San Leon and other neighboring ranches and a child more or less isn’t enough to set us worrying. Hmm. Here comes the operator with a telegram. I was in hopes that I might escape them for a few weeks. News, Mr. Robson?”

The clerk’s face was grave and the young folks walked away; Dorothy carrying the basket with the lamb, the others following – with mischievous Molly prodding the little creature with her forefinger “to make it talk.”

But the boys were not interested in “young mutton” as Monty called it, and sought the ranchmen at their quarters to learn when they could go fishing, or what was better, hunting.

“I don’t see what you want to kill things for!” pouted Molly, while Helena answered:

“Because they are – just boys! I only hope they won’t be allowed to handle firearms, except for rifle practice under the trainer’s care. So this is the dairy! What a fine one and away up here, where Milliken said there was ‘no civilization!’ Do you know, Papa is getting quite anxious for a stock farm? We think it’s so queer for a man who knows nothing but banking, but some doctor told him it would be fine for his health. If he has cattle, I suppose we’ll have a dairy. I mean now to find out all I can about such things because I know whatever Mr. Ford does will be the best possible. Odd! up here the dairymaids are dairymen! How spotlessly clean that one yonder looks, in his white uniform! I’m going to ask what he is doing now.”

She left the other girls to do so and from another worker in this up-to-date, sweet-smelling place, Dorothy begged a basin of milk for their new pet. It still remained in the basket, which was so soft and of such exquisite fineness that it could be folded like a cloth.

Alfaretta still held the soft cover, which had slipped off when Leslie cut the rushes binding it on, turning it idly in her hands. Suddenly she stopped and stared at its inner side, then excitedly stooped where Dorothy was feeding the lamb and pointed, exclaiming:

“For the land sakes, Dolly Doodles, look at that!”

“Take care, Alfy! You’re scaring this timid little thing so it won’t drink. It hardly knows how, anyway. What? What do you say?”

“I say look a there! Jim! Jim!”

Dorothy snatched the cover from Alfy’s hand and there, surely enough, was the letter D done in the curious handwriting which James Barlow had acquired; quite different both girls knew from that of any other they had ever seen. Then they stared at one another, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry.

“What does it mean?” cried Dorothy at last, while Molly drew near to learn what had happened to surprise them. For answer Alfaretta handed her the cover and fairly gasped out:

“Jim – our Jim – wrote that – or painted it – or – or – It’s Jim, true as preachin’!”

“Huh! then all I can say is that this paragon of a Jim has a mighty poor style of writing. Looks more as if that lamb had bumped its itsy – witsy – heady – and made it bleed. That’s some Indian ‘mark’ that the maker of the basket put on it. Don’t try to get up any excitement over that.”

Alfy shook her head but Dorothy did not look up. She was searching the soft, wilted grass that lined the basket; and, in the bottom, tied to a bunch of faded flowers was a little glistening stone. The pebble was marked by another D, traced in the red juice of some plant.

The basket went one way, the lamb another as Dorothy sprang to her feet and danced for very joy.

“Yes, it’s from Jim – it’s from Jim! And he’s alive – somewhere he is alive! Oh! I am so glad, so glad!”

Alfy was glad, too, of this reminder of the lad’s existence, but she was also ashamed of him.

“Huh! I don’t see what there’s to be so tickled over, for my part! Jim Barlow’s actin’ like a regular simpleton. And he’s mean, too. He’s meaner ’n pussley, makin’ everybody such a lot of trouble. Folks riding night and day to hunt for him – some out scourin’ round this very minute – and him just stayin’ away ’cause – ’cause – ”

“’Cause what, Alfaretta Babcock?” demanded Molly sternly. As always she was loyal to her beloved Dorothy whose joy Alfy was rapidly spoiling by her contempt for the truant.

“’Cause, I s’pose he hasn’t any decent clothes to come home in. He didn’t take his with him and clothes don’t grow on trees, even in Colorado. But – if I knew where he was I’d take ’em to him and give him a piece o’ my mind along with ’em.”

“Give it to me, instead, missy. I’m kind of sort of hungry for it!” said a familiar voice behind them, and there was Captain Lem leaning on the sill of the dairy window and looking at them with that amused expression of his. He seemed to find a lot of young folks the most entertaining company in the world. He had hated their coming and had instantly veered around to be thankful for it. Already his mates were teasing him about it and prophesying that Lem had done his last job on the ranch. Hereafter, if he was missed, all the “boys” would have to do would be to hunt up Dorothy, or her chums, and find him.

“What’s a doin’, younkers? Hope your ridin’ round didn’t tire ye none. Hello! Gone to raisin’ sheep, have ye? Mighty pretty little creatur’, that one is. Where’d you find it?”

Even Helena left off learning dairy work and hurried with the others to the window to learn his opinion.

He took the cover and the stone and carefully studied the inscriptions on them. Cocked his head sidewise, put on his spectacles, screwed up his eyebrows and his lips, and ejaculated:

“That’s a poor fist – whoever done it!”

“Maybe it is; but both Alfaretta and I recognized it at once. You see poor Jim almost taught himself to write. He’d begun that even before I first saw him and it’s hard to unlearn things, you know. Else, Jim’s so smart he’d have written better than any of us by this time. Yes, indeed! Poor Jim is very, very clever!” said Dolly warmly.

Captain Lemuel shook his head, and remarked:

“I ’low you call him that by way o’ compliment. But back home when we called a feller ‘clever’ it meant he hadn’t much sense. I’ve seen that sort, ‘clever’ souls ’t scurcely knew enough to come in out the rain. This here one ’peared the same to me. Course, I hadn’t been acquainted with him longer ’n next to no time but if he was so smart, as I s’pose you’re meanin’ to state, he hid it amazin’ well. Hmm. But – but – if this is a handwrite o’ his ’n, our business is to take it straight to the ‘Boss.’ What you goin’ to name your lamb, Little One?”

Dorothy lifted the little animal and gave it to him through the window. He caressed it tenderly enough in his strong hands, for he loved all animals, though horses best.

“Why, I hadn’t thought. I mean we hadn’t. And it isn’t ours, anyway, if it was sent to the Gray Lady.”

“Your Gray Lady’s name don’t begin with a D. It’s plain as the nose on your face who it’s meant for,” he answered, promptly.

“Then if it is really mine – how lovely! – I’ll just call it Snowball.”

“Pshaw, Dolly Doodles! If I had a lamb sent to me by a poor lost feller like Jim, I’d name it after him and not so silly like that. Do call it Jim, junior,” argued Alfy.

“Yes, sissy, but – but it ain’t that kind of a lamb,” observed the Captain, siding with his favorite at once.

Molly giggled and even Helena smiled, but Alfy simply pouted.

“Huh! Well, then if Jim won’t do, call her Jiminetta – that’d be after me and him, too, same’s I’m Alfaretta.”

Dorothy laughed, too, now, and stopped studying the rude letters traced on the cover and the stone. They but deepened the mystery of Jim’s disappearance and present whereabouts. She remarked:

“We don’t often enough take time to say your whole name, child. It’s generally ‘Alfy.’ Let’s compromise and call our lamb Netty.”

“Good enough! And if the little creatur’ takes after most Colorady folks or flocks, she won’t care a mite what name she has so she ain’t called late to dinner. Haw, haw, haw!”

Laughing at his own ancient witticism, Captain Lem started houseward with “Netty” in his arms, the little thing nestling down in them as if it knew it had found a friend. But his face was troubled. He didn’t like this secret signal from the missing James and he liked less the fact that the lad’s messenger had been a small Indian. However, this seemed a small matter to what was awaiting him, as Mr. Ford came toward him, walking rapidly, and, apparently, in deep thought.