Jessica Trent: Her Life On A Ranch Part 11

"Discharged him--I? I should as soon have thought of discharging myself!

What fresh distress is this?"

Catching the paper from Jessica's hand Mrs. Trent read it, then turned and without a word walked slowly into the house. But her head was giddy and her limbs trembled, and she had a strange feeling as if she were being swiftly inclosed in a net from which she could not escape.

CHAPTER VIII

IN THE MINER'S CABIN

"Forgive me, mother! I oughtn't to have told it that way. But what does it mean? Why should you want him to go?"

"Did you not hear me say I would not have dismissed him? No, dear.

There is something in this I don't understand. How do we know but that all the other 'boys' who left so suddenly have been deceived in just this way? As long as there was food enough to eat and a roof to shelter them the men whom your father befriended and who, in turn have befriended us, were as welcome to Sobrante as my own children. I must think this over. We must then find Ephraim and bring him back. We must. There!

We'll not discuss it any more at present. You are keeping Mr. Hale waiting and that is rudeness. Go, now, and explain all your father's plans to him, as you ride."

"I'd so much rather stay with you. I don't like to leave you now."

"I shall be busy and you'll be back for dinner."

"I'd like to look for that paper--the t.i.tle."

"When you come back."

"Good-by, then, and don't do any hard work. I'll send the children up to stay around the house. That will be one worry off your mind."

When she had again sprung into her saddle, Lady Jess apologized for keeping Mr. Hale so long, and suggested:

"Suppose we ride first to the mines, while it is coolest. Then come around by the olive and orange orchards. We can rest at the lemon house awhile. It's interesting to see how they are cared for, or so most strangers think."

"Anything and anywhere suits me, for I'm full of curiosity about Sobrante. How did your father happen to take up so many different lines of industry?"

"Oh, they were all his 'experiments.' You see he wanted to do good to some sorts of people that n.o.body else seemed much interested in.

Men that were getting old and were not rich or well. He was born in California, and he always thought it the land where everybody could find a place if he only had a chance. He went to New York and lived a long time, and he and mother were married there. He'd once ridden over this valley, on a horseback trip--just like yours, maybe--and after that he always meant to buy it if he could. So, when he began to lose his own health he came right away. He hadn't much money himself, but he worked and mother helped, and he'd paid for it all before he died. It was the t.i.tle deed which proved it, that he had just brought home and I could not find last night. Though, of course, I shall find it yet,"

she added confidently.

"I hope so, my child. I devotedly hope so. Yet if it was duly recorded the matter should easily be set right."

Jessica's face fell.

"I don't believe it was. He said something about that, I didn't understand it quite, but I know he said 'recorded' and that he meant to have it done the next time he went to Los Angeles. But--he didn't ever go."

The lawyer's face grew still more serious. Something of the love with which she inspired everybody was already in his heart for this little maid, and thoughts of his own young daughters, threatened with the misfortune which menaced her, stirred him to fresh regret for the mission he had undertaken.

They had now turned their horses' heads toward the foothills on the north and he asked:

"What are these 'mines' of which you speak?"

"For coal. It was an old man from Pennsylvania first thought there might be such stuff in the mountains near, and it's worth so much here.

Father had found him in one of the towns, with his wife and sick son.

They'd spent all they had, to come West to try to cure the son, and were very poor. So, of course, father brought them to Sobrante, and the boy got better at once. They didn't understand any sort of work except mining, and old Wolfgang couldn't rest without trying to do something back for father. So he and Otto dug and picked around till they found a 'vein' and then they put up a little cabin near and there they live.

Their name is Winkler, and Elsa, the mother, is the quaintest little Dutchwoman. Of course, there's never been money enough to work the mine right. All they can do is to get out enough coal for us to use.

That's why we always have such lovely grate fires in the winter time, that make the house so cosy. You'll like the Winklers, and you'll like Elsa's coffee. Go there what time of day you will she always makes you drink some, sweetened with the wild honey she gets in the hills and with her goat's milk in it."

Mr. Hale made a wry face.

"Oh! you're sure to like it. It is delicious, drank with a slice of her hard, sweetened bread. And their little cabin is as clean as can be. Elsa is a great knitter. She has knitted covers for everything, her beds, chairs, table, everything. All the furniture is made out of wood they found in the hills, and when they're not mining Otto carves it beautifully."

"Are all the people who work for you unfortunate? I mean, was some misfortune that which made your father engage them?"

"Yes, just that. They are his 'experiments.' He said this valley was made for every sort of work there was to be done. All men can't be the same thing, and every man was happiest at his own trade. Young men can get work anywhere, but dear Sobrante is a Home with a capital H, for anybody who needs one. My father said the more he trusted people the less they ever disappointed him. He'd proved his plan was right on his own single ranch and he was trying to make others do the same on theirs.

Paraiso d'Oro--oh! you're from that same New York. Do you know a--a Mr. Syndicate, I think he was, who owns Paraiso. Of course, I know in such a big city you might not, though maybe----"

The listener started, then looked keenly into the innocent face bending toward him from the broncho's back.

"Suppose I do know a syndicate--a company--not an individual, which is interested in Paraiso? Can you tell me anything about such a place? Until last night I had no idea that I had come anywhere near to it, and then by accident, hearing Antonio Bernal mention it as his. Is it hereabouts?"

Jessica turned her horse about in a circle, rapidly swinging her pointing arm to indicate every direction of the compa.s.s.

"Know it? It is there, and there, and there--everywhere. The very richest tract of land in all the country, my father believed. Sobrante is the heart of it, he said, but the rest of the valley is even better than Sobrante. It is so big one can hardly believe. He said there was room in it, and a little ranch apiece, for every poor down-trodden man--not bad men, but poor gentlemen, like worn-out lawyers and doctors and--and nice folks--and make a new home in which to live at peace.

He said there were plenty of people always ready to help the very poor and ignorant, but n.o.body so willing to help gentlefolks without money.

That's why he asked a lot of rich people he used to know in New York to buy Paraiso. He gave it its name, himself, and he believed that there might be really gold somewhere in it. There's everything else, you see. But it was a name of 'syndicate' he talked about most and was most grieved by because the money to buy it had not been sent as it had been promised."

"Poor child!"

"Beg pardon?"

"It was nothing. I was thinking. So this 'Mr. Syndicate' never sent the money your father hoped for?"

"No. It was a great disappointment. Antonio had charge of all the letters, only he; so there could have been n.o.body careless enough to lose them had any come. Father left all the writing to Antonio, for he was nearly blind, you know. That's how he came to get hurt. He could not see and his horse stepped over the ledge and somebody brought him home that way. Poor mother!"

"Poor mother, indeed!" echoed Mr. Hale, with something like a groan.

"Thank you for caring about it," said Jessica, quickly touched by his ready sympathy. "But she says her life now must be to carry on all father's work, and I shall help her. In that way it will be always as if he were still with us. Oh! see! That's Stiffleg's track! Ephraim Marsh has pa.s.sed this way! Maybe I shall find him at the Winklers' cabin!

Would you mind hurrying, just a little bit?"

"I'll do my best, little lady. But I'm a wretched horseman, I fear."

"Oh! you'll learn. If you would only let yourself be easy and comfortable. But, beg pardon, you do it this way--so stiff, with your hands all clinched. Your horse feels that something's wrong, and that's why he fidgets so. You should get Samson to show you how.

He's a magnificent rider. I'll coax him to do some tricks for you, to-night, when we get through supper. I'm off. Just drop all care and let the horse do the work and--catch me if you can."

As they approached the foothills they had dropped into a little hollow where the sandy ground was moist and retained an impression distinctly, and it was thus that Jessica's keen eyes discovered the peculiar footprints of "Forty-niner's" halting steed. But she quickly forgot these in the interest of the race she had started and was now bent upon nothing save beating Mr. Hale at the goal, the miner's cabin.

"He has by far the better horse. He ought to win, but he shall not--he can't. He mustn't! Go, Buster! A taste of Elsa's honey if you get there first!"

Bending forward the girl rested her cheek against the broncho's neck and, as if the touch fired him with new ambition, he shot forward so swiftly that the question of winning was soon settled. However, Mr.

Hale's own pride was touched, and he put to the test the advice just given him, and with such good results that he, too, soon came in sight of a small house at the end of the trail, a dark hole in the mountain side, and a group of people eagerly surrounding his little guide.