tavia declared dorothy’s insisting upon going back to the ranch so early “spoiled all her fun.”
“you can miss that fun, miss,” said her chum, somewhat sharply. “teasing mr. petterby is a good deal like a cat playing with a mouse. it’s fun for the cat, but tragic for the mouse.”
“tragedy! fancy!” responded tavia, tossing her head. “as though my innocent little conversations with lance were tragic in any way.”
“he thinks you are in earnest when you show interest in his affairs,” declared dorothy.
“but you know, dear, he’s such fun!” pouted tavia. “i can’t help plaguing him. he is so very innocent—a big man like him!—that he’s fair game. you are a regular spoil-sport.”
“i’ve another reason for going home,” said dorothy, seriously. “just the same, you are not to be trusted, tavia. i am ashamed of you.”
“you needn’t be. i wouldn’t harm poor little lance petterby for the world!” giggled the black-eyed girl.
dorothy was too worried over what the cowboy had told her about philo marsh to keep on joking with her friend. the instant they reached the ranch-house she ran to find aunt winnie.
“oh, auntie! you haven’t signed those horrid papers, have you?” dorothy cried.
“what do you mean, child?” asked mrs. white.
“for that marsh man.”
“why, dorothy! you are greatly excited. what is the matter?”
“then you have signed?” wailed dorothy.
“no. i told him i would to-morrow if he brought out a commissioner of deeds with him. i cannot go to town now.”
“don’t do it!” begged her niece, excitedly. “there’s something queer about it. let me tell you,” and there poured forth then all her suspicions and her reasons for holding them. she told her aunt about the strange talk she had overheard between the foreman of the ranch and philo marsh, as well as about the surveying party she and tavia had seen back in the hills. she likewise repeated what lance petterby had told her that very day.
“i cannot understand it,” mrs. white said. “i have read the agreement mr. marsh offers very carefully. it is between your father and me, as party of the first part (that is the legal phrase), and mr. marsh, mr. kendrick, and mr. stephen goode, who jointly agree to take the water of lost river under certain conditions. there is no corporation formed as yet, i am told, and these men constitute a committee.”
“a committee for whom?” asked dorothy, briskly.
“why—why, for the people who want the water.”
“but who are they, aunt winnie? philo marsh says he is acting for the desert people; but you don’t really know if it is so.”
“child! it can’t be possible that the man would boldly conspire to gain my signature for a different purpose from that colonel hardin intended?”
“that’s exactly what i believe marsh is aiming to do,” cried dorothy. “don’t you sign.”
“i won’t. a bad promise is better broken than kept. i shall write to mr. jermyn. when i spoke to him in dugonne he said he had had no reason for looking into the matter, but he supposed that mr. marsh was acting in good faith. lawyers, i am afraid, are like doctors. the ethics of the profession sometimes stand before their duty to a client.
“but mr. jermyn shall come out here and examine the papers and talk with mr. marsh in my presence, before i sign,” added mrs. white. “thank you, my dear, for being so helpful. go tell dempsey to find a man to ride into dugonne at once with a note.”
dorothy ran to do as she was bid, while mrs. white went to write the letter. a man came to the ranch-house in a few minutes, a-straddle of a vicious pony. he was a sullen, rough looking fellow, but mrs. white presumed he was to be trusted as a messenger.
however, had she known that the fellow carried her note to philo marsh instead of to mr. jermyn—being in marsh’s pay—the lady from the east would not have been so tranquil in her mind. having been unsuccessful in wheedling hank ledger into aiding him, marsh had hired this mexican to play the spy at the hardin ranch.
tavia and the boys were not informed of the new mystery regarding the water-rights affair. dorothy had promised aunt winnie not to speak of it at present.
“after working as hard as we do all day,” quoth ned at the supper table that night, “a fellow needs a little recreation in the evening. you girls aren’t at all entertaining. why! you haven’t had even a ‘sing’ since we came out here to the ranch.”
“what will we do for music?” asked dorothy. “there isn’t even a banjo in the house.”
“there are mandolins, or guitars, or something,211 down to the bunkhouse,” nat broke in. “i heard somebody plunking one to-day. you know, these mexicans are great on music—of a kind.”
“i’ll ask flores,” promised dorothy, briskly. “just as soon as supper is over.”
“and we’ll all sing,” announced ned, gravely.
tavia immediately relinquished her knife and fork. “i object,” she declared. “perhaps i should say that i rise to a point of order.”
“what about, miss?” demanded ned.
“are you going to attempt to sing?” asked tavia, point blank.
“what if i do?”
“prithee, don’t, dear neddie,” begged the teasing girl. “we’ve heard you make the attempt before. you escaped with your life on that occasion, but remember it was in a comparatively ‘tame’ country.
“this is the wild and woolly west. they hang people here for horse-stealing—and perhaps for eating with their knives, i don’t know! at any rate, lance petterby tells me that many of the ‘old-timers’ shoot from the hip, and without much provocation. your sweet young life may be snuffed out, neddie, if you try to sing, by some native with an ear for music.”
“ha, ha!” cried nat. “old ned’s like the minister they tell about who was called to a new pastorate. one of the members of the new church asked a friend of the minister if he was a good man.
“‘he is a very good man,’ agreed the minister’s friend.
“‘well, what are his faults? he must have some fault?’ said the curious one.
“‘since you press me,’ said the other, ‘i know of but one grave fault in your new minister.’
“so the man asked him what that fault was. ‘he doesn’t know how to sing,’ declared the candid friend.
“‘well, that’s not a very serious fault,’ said the anxious one, much relieved.
“‘no,’ was the reply; ‘but, you see, he sings just the same as if he did know.’”
“that settles it,” growled ned, appearing to be much offended. “i’ll not sing, no matter how much i am urged. i positively refuse.”
“i can go on with my supper, then,” said tavia, calmly, “and with a mind relieved of anxiety.”
“and while you are finishing,” laughed dorothy, “i’ll go hunt up flores, and see if there is music to be had to soothe the savage breasts of these amateur cowpunchers.”
she ran down to the shack where the foreman and his wife lived. the twilight was falling, and dorothy thought the country beautiful. bare as the ranges were, the vari-colored sky arching the rolling plain lent a softness to the earth’s outline that pleased the eye.
by broad day she could see the boulders cropping out of the hillsides, and the scars of ancient land-slips upon the faces of the higher mountains, but now purple and saffron shadows mantled all these rude outlines of the landscape, while the little valleys were pits of gray mist and shadow.
dorothy came, cheerfully singing, to the door of the foreman’s house. “where is flores?” she asked mrs. ledger, who had hurried down from the big house as soon as supper there was served to get the evening meal for her husband and the hands.
“drat the gal!” replied mrs. ledger, with some exasperation. “i wish i knew. i left her here to get things started, and she’s run off.”
“run away?” cried the startled dorothy.
“not fur, i reckon. she’s always buzzing some of the men. ’druther play than work, any time, that gal had.”
“i’ll find her,” promised the girl from the east, and went on toward the horse sheds.
but she would have passed flores in the dusk had she not heard excited voices speaking spanish. dorothy could not understand spanish, but she recognized the tones of the mexican girl’s voice.
214 “flores!”
instantly dorothy saw one of the herdsmen dive into the deeper shadow beside the shed, while flores came swiftly toward her. the mexican girl had been crying, dorothy knew, although it was too dark to see her face but dimly.
“what is the matter, flores?”
“i—i no can tell you, señorita,” sobbed flores.
“you won’t tell me?”
“i—i dare not. i no explain. hush!” whispered the girl. “you take care at beeg house. bad mans about.”
this was anything but lucid, but try as she might dorothy could get nothing more explicit from flores. the latter seemed not only unable to explain herself in english, but she was afraid to speak at all!
flores hurried back to the ledger domicile and lent dorothy a mandolin of her own. tavia could play the mandolin, and the young folk at the big house had a nice “sing” that evening.
when dorothy and her chum went to bed the former told tavia about flores’ strange speech and actions.
“more mystery, rudolpho!” cried tavia. “what can she mean? ‘bad mans,’ eh? sounds awfully interesting. almost any male man with intelligence would be a delightful change from these ignorant mexican herdsmen.”
“even a villain like philo marsh?”
“oh! he is a disappointment, despite his mustache,” admitted tavia. “even as a villain he proved second rate.”
“perhaps we haven’t seen the last of his villainy,” said dorothy, darkly.
tavia, her hearing momentarily impaired by a big yawn, did not catch the drift of dorothy’s prophecy. the next day there was more than the usual stir about the hardin ranch. philo marsh and a low-browed, greasy looking man, whom the lawyer introduced as “jedge biggs”—a justice of the peace and notary public—arrived early in the day.
the girls were by now deeply interested in the matter of the water-rights. the boys had ridden away as usual, right after breakfast. dorothy had told tavia enough about aunt winnie’s difficulties to arouse the black-eyed girl’s interest and to excite her over this morning visit of marsh.
the chums remained on the veranda, within hearing of the discussion in the office, when aunt winnie appeared to meet the two men from dugonne.
“mawnin’, mrs. white,” said philo marsh, in his unctuous way. “we’re all prepared this mawnin’ for business—loaded tuh the muzzle, as yuh might say.”
“i have sent for mr. jermyn,” said aunt winnie,216 quietly. “i prefer to have him here before i sign anything, mr. marsh.”
“sufferin’ snakes, ma’am! this ain’t another hold-up, i hope? why, ye agreed tuh sign——”
“quite so. when mr. jermyn comes, if he does not advise against it, i will sign.”
“but, mrs. white! i have reason to know jermyn is not in dugonne at present.”
“that is too bad,” said mrs. white, with real disappointment. “i thought it strange that he returned no reply to the note i sent him last evening.”
it was not strange to philo marsh, but he gave no sign that he had ever heard of the message.
“it seems a pity to hold the matter up again, mr. marsh,” said aunt winnie, calmly. “but i feel that my lawyer should have an opportunity to advise.”
“mrs. white!” cried philo marsh, his wrath getting the better of his judgment, “this is childish. it’s a joke for you, perhaps, but not for me. you promised——”
“mr. marsh!” exclaimed aunt winnie. “i am not in the habit of being spoken to in such a tone.”
she rose and passed to the door, leaving the two men standing, scowling at each other.
“i am sorry for your disappointment, mr. marsh,” proceeded the lady, “but i can no longer discuss this matter—or go on with it at all—until i secure the advice of mr. jermyn. good morning.”
“bully for aunt winnie!” whispered tavia, on the porch, squeezing dorothy’s arm.
“but i am afraid of what philo marsh will do,” returned dorothy, in a similar tone. “he looks like a thunder-cloud.”
mrs. white had swept from the office, and the two men finally came out. they did not notice the girls, and went off whispering together. a little later they rode away from the ranch sheds, but did not take the trail to dugonne.
ned and nat had told the girls that some yearlings were to be branded that morning, down in the far corral, and dorothy and tavia wanted to see the work done—although they shrank from the idea of giving pain to the helpless cattle.
“but i suppose that is the only way to keep run of the stock,” dorothy said, wisely.
“they couldn’t very well paste numbers on their horns,” rejoined tavia, whimsically.
when they told aunt winnie they were going, they found her looking very grave, and she confessed to a headache. she suffered severely from that affliction at times and she said the glare of the sun outside oppressed her.
dorothy knew that nervousness, enhanced by the argument with philo marsh, was the real cause of her aunt’s illness. she offered to remain at the house, but aunt winnie sent her out with tavia.
“go along and have a good time, child,” she said. “i shall be all right alone here.”
for at this time of day there was not a soul else about the big house. mrs. ledger and flores were busy at their own quarters.
it was an hour later—after retiring in bad order because of the odor of burning hair and flesh in their nostrils, and the sound of piteous bawling in their ears—that the two girls approached the ranch-house. the branding operations had been too much for their courage.
“i don’t want to be a ‘cattle queen,’” tavia declared, with a shudder. “one of those poor calves had blue eyes and he looked at me so pitiful!”
“yet you have no tender feeling for the poor humans you plague—like lance petterby,” chuckled dorothy.
“oh! they are fair game!” said tavia, shaking her braids and running on before.
suddenly—right at the corner of the house—she halted, and wildly beckoned dorothy forward.
“look! oh, look, doro!” she gasped, as her friend came running.
tavia, breathless, pointed off toward the west. a party of at least six horsemen were riding at a gallop away from the front of the ranch-house.
“philo marsh!” cried dorothy. “i see him.”
“there is a woman with them—she is riding in the middle of the crowd,” screamed tavia. “oh, doro! she’s a prisoner! he’s carried her off.”
“who’s carried whom off?” demanded the startled dorothy, as the cavalcade disappeared into a coulie.
“your aunt! philo marsh has her. he’s kidnapped her—to make her sign those papers—i know he has,” cried tavia, weakly sitting down on the steps.
“nonsense!” exclaimed dorothy, and ran into the house to find her aunt.
but she could not find her. she called, and there came no answer. with fast beating heart and trembling limbs dorothy dale returned to the veranda. tavia was talking to a man on horseback who had just arrived. it was lance petterby.
