The Ranch Girls and Their Great Adventure Part 19

On several occasions Jack thought of deliberately asking her husband to come to some kind of an agreement with her for the future. Yet she hardly dared open a subject that might lead to differences between them, when they were so far apart, but she was very often lonely for him and sometimes repented having left England at all.

Jack, of course, was not always in this frame of mind. During the greater part of the time she was very happy.

A number of hours each day she spent on the horse Jim had given her, which she had named "Britain" in honor of her adopted country.

Now and then Jean and Olive and Frieda would refuse to ride, preferring some other amus.e.m.e.nt, but there was always Jim as a companion.

Jim Colter was now a successful and fairly wealthy ranchman owning a half interest in the Rainbow Ranch and having the entire owners.h.i.+p of the one adjoining it. But he continued to follow much the same routine as when he was only the manager for the Ranch girls.

That is, whenever it was possible, he rode over miles of the ranch land, watching the crops and his water supply, and carefully examining all his horses and cattle, when they seemed to need his attention.

Accompanying Jim on these excursions had been, not only one of Jack's chief amus.e.m.e.nts, but one of her serious occupations as a girl and it still greatly interested her. Besides, she and Jim saw each other under more favorable circ.u.mstances in this way than in any other, and had more real opportunities for conversation.

But always Jack arranged to get back to the Lodge in time to see her children before they went to bed. They had an excellent nurse and of course there was all the rest of the family to look after them, but Jack had followed this custom at home, except under unusual circ.u.mstances and would not have given it up for a great deal.

Therefore she was worried one afternoon when Jim insisted upon staying out later than usual. She would have returned alone, except that Jim had found a young colt which had injured itself and wished Jack's help and advice in the care of it.

Finally, when they did get started for home, Jack rode ahead like the wind, calling back to her companion not to try to follow her unless he liked, as she knew he had some other matters on the place to look after.

By making unusual speed she hoped to reach home a few minutes before six, when Vive was put into bed and Jimmie ate his supper before following her.

Olive was waiting on the porch when Jack came into sight and went out to meet her before she had dismounted.

"What is it, Olive?" Jack asked sharply, as soon as she saw her. "Which one of the children is it? What has happened?" For it is a curious fact that a mother often feels this premonition of danger.

"There is nothing to be seriously frightened about, Jack," Olive replied quietly, "only little Vive isn't very well. Frieda and I had her with us for a little while this afternoon and she seemed somewhat languid.

Frieda thought she had a little fever, so Ruth saw her and we have sent for the doctor. He will be here in another few moments."

Jack made no comment except to go swiftly indoors, leaving Olive to find some one to care for her horse.

She knew, of course, that Olive was telling her as little as possible.

Jimmie had been taken away to the other house, so Vive now occupied alone the big room at the Lodge which had belonged to Jack and Frieda when they were little girls.

It was simply furnished with a few rugs and wicker chairs and bright pictures and three little white iron cots.

In the smallest Vive lay apparently asleep on her pillow.

But Jack saw at once she was not asleep. Her exquisite little face was flushed a bright scarlet, her lids heavy and closed, and the strangest fact was that one of her little hands twitched unceasingly.

Now and then she opened her golden brown eyes, but without seeing or knowing anyone.

When the doctor arrived he made no effort to disguise the seriousness of Vive's condition. If she were to live it would be a fight and one of the hardest of all kinds, since they must simply wait and watch, with very little possible to do.

For some unknown reason, perhaps because there had been too much excitement from the trip, too much notice taken of her by too many people, Vive had meningitis.

But Jack was never a coward and it is scarcely worth saying that a mother's courage, so long as she thinks it can help her child, is the purest courage of all.

As soon as she heard the verdict, Jack went quickly to her own room and put on a white cotton dress. Afterwards, until Vive was better or worse, she would never leave her side for a moment.

But it is one thing to be brave when a shock comes and one has health and strength to meet it. It is another to keep up that courage hour after hour, day after day, when the strength is gone and the body and mind unconsciously sick with weariness.

There was a trained nurse, of course, and any member of her family would have done anything that was humanly possible to relieve Jack's vigil.

But she would not be persuaded or argued into going out of her baby's room, and slept there in the hours when she did sleep, half awake and half dreaming, on a small cot by Vive's.

And most of the time Frieda stayed with her.

In a way it seems strange that it should have been Frieda. Olive, one would have supposed to be more sympathetic, Jean and Ruth had children of their own.

But some change had been taking place in Frieda for a good many months and she adored little Vive. Whenever any of the others disputed Frieda's right, she always said quietly that after all, she was Jack's only sister, and that if anything happened she must be the one to be by her.

If Jack's husband had been with her, why then it would have been different. So Frieda even waved away her devoted Professor, who feared she might be ill, by telling him there would be time enough to think of her later on.

Although she and Jack sat side by side for many hours with their eyes on the baby, they but rarely spoke to each other.

Yet it was too pitiful to continue always to watch the movement of Vive's baby hands and her heavy breathing.

"If Vive dies do you think Frank will ever forgive me," Jack asked one night.

And true to herself Frieda tossed her yellow head.

"I don't see what Frank has to forgive? The point is will he ever forgive himself for having you go through all this alone?"

"But I ought not to have brought Vive away. Still I wouldn't mind anything if only Frank were with me."

A little later when the doctor arrived he said that the crisis would come within the hour and he would remain.

Olive and Jean waited in the Lodge living room, Jim had disappeared somewhere an hour before. Ruth Colter came into the nursery and stayed by Jack.

Half an hour pa.s.sed. Then suddenly there was a strange, almost an unearthly silence in the room, and it was as if one could see the little white soul rise and float softly away like a bird.

The little figure in the cradle was still.

The doctor rose up.

"It is over," he said pitifully.

Frieda covered up her face, but Jack went over and looked down at Vive for a moment and then turned to the others.

"Please do not let anyone come with me," she asked. "I must go outdoors alone."

Then Jack went out past the living room, through the long avenue of tall trees, on farther and farther, not knowing where she was going.

The Rainbow Ranch, which she had loved better than any place in the world, had taken from her the human being, whom at this moment she believed she loved most.

Over Rainbow creek there hung a tiny yellow, crescent moon. It seemed to Jack that this, too, made her think of her baby, it was just as cold, just as perfect and as far away.

She stayed there a long time, then getting up she wandered on. She did not think whether her family would be uneasy, she did not care.