Raymond Evelyn
Jessica, the Heiress

CHAPTER XV.
NINIAN’S GREETING

Suddenly, out of the moonlit distance before them, appeared a strange vision. A horse and his rider, as spotlessly white and gleaming as the snow on the distant mountaintops, moving toward them as swift as the wind and in supernatural silence. The eyes of the steed and its master glowed with a wicked light that startled both the old frontiersman and the modern scribe, and set Prince and Nimrod into paroxysms of terror.

Rearing, plunging and backing, Ninian’s mount had him soon on the ground; and though Ephraim stuck to his saddle like a burr; he could not hold his horse and get at his revolver in that one instant of the appearance and disappearance of this strange “specter.” It was coming–it was upon them–it was gone; and the blast of cold air with which it passed them set the horses shivering in an ague of fear, and tied the men’s tongues.

It seemed an age that they halted there in the open solitude, silently stroking and soothing their frightened beasts, before either could speak. Then “Forty-niner” found his voice and burst forth, absurdly:

“Drat–that–pocket!”

Ninian laughed; nervously, almost hysterically at first; then with honest merriment, exclaiming:

“Oh, what a chance was lost there, comrade!”

“Whoa, boy, whoa, I tell you! There, there, steady now. Well, you needn’t throw it in my teeth if it was!” retorted the sharpshooter, furiously. “Hang new pants!”

Ninian rolled on the ground and laughed afresh; then feebly observed: “That’s what I generally do with mine. But pockets! What of them?”

“Huh! it’s all very well for you to lie there and snicker. I lost the chance of my life that time. What’s the use of a repertation for hittin’ a pin at the distance I have if you can’t hit a fool when he’s close alongside?”

“Referring to me?” asked the reporter, sweetly.

“Yes, if the coat fits. Drat that pocket!”

“Poor pocket! Who made it?”

“That pesky Sally Benton. The one was in burst right through, and she sewed this one so tight at the top–Huh! I believe she done it a-purpose.”

“To be sure she did. If I remember correctly that estimable woman was opposed to bloodshed and preferred corporal punishment. I suppose she feared you might do what you attempted to do and–”

“Shut up your shallow talk, young man!” ordered Ephraim, with so much venom that the other realized his mirth was ill-timed and grew serious.

“What was the thing, anyway, Marsh?”

“That’s more than I know, but just what I would have known if I’d hit it with a bullet. That’s the ‘spook’ Aleck warned us of. It’s been kitin’ round the country ever since that first night after Pedro died. Some say it’s the ghost. It ’pears to be wrapped in a white blanket and wears it same as he did. He had a white horse once that had outlived all the horses ever was, I reckon; and the Simple Simons all about us claim that it’s the Indian’s spirit on the Indian’s horse, a-ridin’ round ’count of some trouble why he can’t rest. There was a letter thrown into our settin’ room night before last, in poor printing enough, too; and it said that Pedro had been banished from the happy hunting grounds on account of a secret he’d told; and a warning everybody not to touch to try and find the place the secret told about. It scared the mistress pretty bad, though she didn’t let on much. The captain laughed, of course. She always laughs at everything; and Mrs. Benton–well, she just pinned the paper in her bosom, and says she: ‘I’ll know where that is when it’s needed.’ She’s some sense, Sally has, though nothing to boast of, and she’s a mighty good sewer of patchwork, though she’s no good at pistol pockets. Well, shall we go on?”

Ninian had remounted his horse, which still was restless and ill to manage, and Prince was capering about in a fantastic fashion that, however, was not greatly different from his behavior earlier in the evening; and the reporter had satisfied himself that there was nothing now to be seen of the apparition which had flashed upon them and disappeared on the road back to Marion.

“Yes, let’s go on. And I hope the least that will happen will be the arrival of that ‘spook’ at Aleck McLeod’s cheerful inn. I’d give much to see his face if it did appear.”

“Oh! it’s been there already; last night. The kitchen window was raised so softly none but Janet could have heard it, and before she could get to it, a white, skinny hand came through and snatched up a quail pie she’d baked for breakfast and off sooner’n she could catch it. She was so mad about the pie that, for a minute, she forgot to be scared; then it came over her that she’d been cookin’ ghost’s victuals, and she shivered all the rest the night. She wouldn’t ever let Aleck far out of sight, she’s so fond of him, but now he can’t stir three foot away. Every man I met has something fresh to tell of how his women folks have been worried by the thing; and if somebody doesn’t settle his spookship mighty sudden, we’ll have all the females in hysterics; and something we’ve never needed in this valley yet, and that’s a doctor. There won’t be a nerve left anywhere.”

Ninian laughed again; adding, a moment later: “Not just the sort of place to send a nervous-prostration patient, is it, after all? But what’s your own speculation concerning the nuisance?”

“Let me tell you the whole business, so far forth as I’ve heerd it since I came home. Then you can form your own mind on it and see how best to help my folks out their troubles; ’cause I ain’t trying to hide that was my reason for wanting you to come. You’d helped us so much with the title affair I knew you’d unravel this skein. But I’m powerful glad to see you, all the same, and I do hope you’ll get as much good for yourself out the visit as I want the mistress to get.”

The horses were now somewhat quieted by a long stretch of the level road, over which they had been allowed to travel at their own pace, and talking was easier. Ephraim gave in detail the story of Pedro’s visit and gift of the wand; of the many strange incidents of the last few days; of Ned’s serious illness, caused by fright, Aunt Sally declared, but, as his mother thought, by too much rich food and an overdose of candy; and how, though he had repeatedly been heard about the premises, nobody had as yet actually seen Antonio Bernal. However, at present, little was thought of but the suffering children; for Luis had remained true to his character of “echo” and had himself, that very day, been put to bed with the same high fever which was tormenting Ned.

“You see, though it’s getting Christmas time and everything ought to be lovely, we’re about as badly off as a family can be. All the same, if anybody in this world can cheer the mistress it’ll be yourself, Mr. Sharp, and I’m powerful glad you’ve come.”

For the rest of the ride they were mostly silent; each man revolving in his mind the most plausible explanation of Antonio’s behavior, in his would-be mysterious hiding, and his terrorizing of the little lads.

Finally, Ninian expressed his own opinion:

“It’s perfectly natural he should drift back to Sobrante, even with all the opprobrium that would attach to him there. It is his home. He believed or pretended to believe, that it was also his birthright. He knows nothing that would bring him a livelihood in the city–”

“Except gambling,” interrupted Ephraim, contemptuously.

“If he tried his hand at that even, he’d fail. He hasn’t the head to plot deeply. His maneuvers are all childishly transparent, and this last one–h’m! Have you connected his ‘highness’ with this spook business?”

“No, sir; and you needn’t. That Antonio Bernal is the biggest coward above ground. Why, bless me! even if he’d had gumption enough to concoct such a scheme he wouldn’t have the nerve to carry it out. He’d be afraid of himself! Fact! No, siree. Top-lofty never had a hand in this,” answered the elder man.

Ninian said no more but kept his suspicions revolving in his own mind; yet was far more absorbed in the possibility that “Forty-niner” had suggested, of the copper vein in the canyon, than by anything else he had heard. They had ridden on again, each silent, till the lights of Sobrante came into view; then Ephraim remarked:

“Reckon the little tackers ain’t much better. The mistress don’t gen’ally keep lamps lit as late as this, ’less something’s wrong. Oh! I hope there’s no more death and disappointment on our road. ’Twould break Mrs. Trent’s heart, indeed, if she lost Ned.”

Ninian roused himself from his reverie, and answered, lightly:

“For such a cheerful fellow as I remember you, even when you were first laid up in hospital, you’re degenerated sadly. What in the name of common sense is the use of prognosticating evil, when good is just as likely to come?”

“Huh! I’m consid’able older than you, young man,” retorted the sharpshooter, perversely.

“All the more reason you should be more hopeful. What’s happened to you besides these external troubles? Something on your own account, eh? If so, believe me you have my hearty sympathy and my right hand to help you, if you need it.”

Ephraim checked Prince so shortly that the animal reared on his haunches, and pushing his hat from his brow regarded the visitor with a sad but grateful countenance. Then he spoke, and his tones were husky with subdued emotion:

“Thanks, friend. I took to you the first time my old eyes lit on you and I’ve leaned on you, in my mind, ever since. There is something ’at worries me, but it’s so slight I shan’t put it into words–yet. I’ve got work to do still for them I love and that love me. Which I might maybe sum up in one small person–my precious Lady Jess. God bless her! Ay, God bless her! From the crown of her sunny head to the tips of her dainty feet, she’s the truest, squarest, tenderest creature the Lord ever sent to lighten this dark world. They all love her, every one of them rough, hard-handed sons of toil whom she calls her ‘boys’; but there isn’t one, not one, can begin to love her as I do. Not one. It is she that makes me still keep a little faith–There, there! what an old fool I am! But, thanks, all the same, and don’t you forget I’m your own to command if need comes. Shake, neighbor, and may your age be–Giddap there, Prince! Let’son, lad; let’s get on.”

Ninian did get on, but again silently pondering that here again was something mysterious in this honest octogenarian’s mood. There was an undercurrent of sorrow which, he was sure, was wholly distinct from the anxieties of his mistress and her household, and he wondered what it might be. Surely, for an old man, though wifeless and childless he had much to make him happy. The devotion of the family in which he had lived for so long, his comfortable home, his freedom from care concerning his future–to the young man struggling amidst a crowd of competitors to make a place for himself in the world, it seemed as if the venerable sharpshooter had cause for nothing but rejoicing. However, these might be mere imaginations, and best banished for the present.

Ephraim made straight for the house, and the sound of the horses’ footfalls brought figures flying to the open doors; most welcome of these in the eyes of the two men, the small one of Jessica herself, her head stretched forth as she peered into the night, and the lamplight behind her making a radiance about her golden head and slender gracefulness. But she poised there on the threshold only for an instant, till she was sure what animals these were, then darted toward them with uplifted hands and a cry of delight:

“They’ve come! Oh, mother, they’ve come!–they’ve come!”

Another moment and the reporter had slipped from his saddle and had caught up the little girl, more glad on his own part than he would have once thought possible to have her once more beside him.

“Yes, captain, here we are! But did you expect us–or me? And how could you tell that we were not strangers?”

“Why, don’t you suppose I’d know the step of any horse for ours? And though Nimrod is yours now I know him like–like a brother. Don’t I, dear fellow?” and from Ninian’s clasp she ran to embrace the down-bent head of the thoroughbred.

On his side, Nimrod was equally rejoiced. His velvet nostrils caressed the little girl’s cheeks and flowing hair, while his dainty forefoot gently pawed the ground in expression of delight and not impatience. Prince stood looking on, unmoved. He was not Sobrante raised and seemed to feel it; or so Jessica fancied, as she left off petting Nimrod and passed to Prince’s side, to stroke his head also, and to murmur words of praise for good behavior in bringing Ephraim safely home.

Then “Forty-niner” led the beast away, while Jessica sped after Ninian, who had been greeted–almost grasped–by Aunt Sally. She had drawn him indoors, laughing, crying, whispering, entreating, all in a breath:

“Oh, oh, oh, land of Goshen! My suz! If you ain’t the gladdest sight I’ve seen this dog’s age! How are you, how are you? Slim? You certainly do look slim,” she declared, as she led him into the radiance of the lamp and critically peered into his face, both through and above her spectacles.

“Well, my good friend, I never was anything but slim, as I remember. And I have been just a bit ailing, if that’s your meaning. However, I’m all right now, most delighted to be here, and wholly at your service or that of anybody else who needs me. How are the children? Ephraim said that they were ill. And Mrs. Trent?”

As if in answer to his questions, there was a patter of bare feet on the stairs and in came Luis, his great dark eyes looking twice their normal size and his voice shrill with excitement, as he tried to say:

“Ned–Ned’s gone and got–and got–Ned’s gone got gone roof. Oh, oh!”

Mrs. Benton dropped Ninian’s hand which she had continued to hold and shake up and down, much in the manner of one pumping water, and caught up the child to also shake him vigorously:

“Hi! What’s that you say? Don’t you dare to tell auntie a story. What’s Neddy–Oh, my land! all the catnip’s gone out of my life, seems if!”

The reporter and Jessica looked at each other and burst into laughter. It was impossible to help it, Aunt Sally’s manner had been so droll and yet so dramatic; and, oddly enough, over Ninian there stole again the feeling that he had come home, and that the griefs and perplexities of this household had become his own. With that his merriment was over, for the fear Mrs. Benton’s face had betrayed was sincere.

Jessica, also, had sobered instantly, and catching her guest’s hand hurried him impulsively upward, crying:

“He’s done it again! Oh, if mother sees him it will frighten her to death!”

They reached the upper floor and the end of the hall which divided it into two sections, and from whence a ladder ran upright to a trapdoor opening on the sloping roof. The scuttle had been left open for ventilation, and up this steep stairway Luis was pointing with wild gestures.

Again Aunt Sally caught and shook the little fellow, but he could make no better business of talking than before. Jessica had not waited for more than one glance into the empty chamber where the sick children had been cared for, since it was more quiet than the customary bed-room below; and that glance, added to Luis’ gesticulations, told her story.

“Oh, he’s walking in his sleep again! He’s gone on the roof!”

The next the reporter realized she had climbed the ladder and disappeared through the scuttle. He forgot that he was, or had been, ill, and followed her, only to pause at the sight which met him as his head protruded through the opening. It was a house of many gables, and upon the peak of the farthest one poised Ned in his night-clothes, slowly swinging his arms in the circular fashion children adopt preparatory to a leap or spring.

“One!” counted the childish voice. “Two!”

Ninian closed his eyes, as if by so doing he might shut his ears to the final “Three!” which would mark the fatal leap.

CHAPTER XVI.
JESSICA GETS HER WISH

Ninian Sharp had closed his eyes against a catastrophe which, seemingly, nothing less than a miracle could prevent. When he opened them again the miracle had been performed.

Love had lent to Jessica a strength and swiftness almost incredible even to her active body, and she had crossed the steep, slated roof just in time to clasp Ned’s feet and to drag him backward with her as she rolled down upon the broader portion. Yet even here was imminent danger, for the lad was struggling, in his sudden awakening, and the pair were slipping hopelessly toward the eaves.

But now was the reporter’s chance and the test of his athletic training. He threw himself prone upon the slippery slates, worming his lean person over them till he caught the girl’s frock, and bidding her “hold fast!” drew both the children slowly toward the scuttle. When his feet had found the edge of this the danger was past; and they were presently down upon the hall floor, laughing and sobbing together in one excited group. That is, the sister was sobbing and Ninian was laughing in a nervous way that had grown upon him with his illness, and that told to Aunt Sally’s keen ear how really frail he still was.

But Master Ned, the cause of all this emotion, looked calmly upon the stranger, and demanded:

“Where’s that printing press you promised, hey? I can say five, ten letters now, and I can spell cat backwards!”

“Is it possible? Before such erudition I bow my humble head!” laughed the visitor, grateful for any, even nonsensical, words that would relieve the tension of the moment.

But here Aunt Sally caught up the boy and looked him over anxiously; then joyfully declared:

“He’s got his senses back. Oh! Gabriella, where are you? Neddy’s all right!”

“Oh, auntie, hush! There’s no need to tell mother anything of this last danger, and if you’ll only please put Ned back to bed she won’t have to know.”

“Ain’t goin’ to bed. Been a-bed ’nough,” protested the supposed invalid. “Want my clothes. Want to go downstairs and get my supper.”

“Get my supper,” assented Luis, creeping forward from the corner where he had hidden in fear of he knew not what.

“Hello, echo! You on hand again? How’s business?” demanded Ninian, drawing the child towards him.

“First rate,” answered Ned, for his comrade, who promptly echoed: “’Strate.”

But now came the mother, hurrying up the stairs, with a bowl of gruel she had gone to prepare, and interest in which had opportunely prevented her knowing either of the reporter’s arrival or her son’s peril. And the visitor sprang to his feet again, while she welcomed him as cordially and gracefully as if she had been sitting in state, expectant, within her own pretty parlor.

One flash of her eyes toward her boy, safe in Mrs. Benton’s arms again and carefully wrapped about in her capacious apron, relieved any anxiety she might have felt in coming upon this unexpected group, and she asked, with a little burst of laughter:

“Is it possible that Ned was so quick to welcome you? Well, son, it might have been more courteous to have gone downstairs; but I’m sure our friend will pardon a little lad who’s been ill. He’s really better, isn’t he, Aunt Sally? He looks quite natural.”

“Yes, honey, he’s better. I reckon he’s passed the turnin’ point now, if nothin’ new sets in. You take Mr. Sharp down into the settin’-room, ’cause he’s seen the children and I’ll set with them a spell. Wun Lung can get the supper well’s I can, if he’ll put his heatheny mind to it. Eh? What is it, sonny?”

Fortunately, Ned, like most sleepwalkers, was wholly unconscious of his actions while in that abnormal state, and made no comments on anything save his own reluctance to go to bed while so interesting a gentleman was in the house; but was finally coaxed to do so by the promise of Luis sharing his cot as well as his porridge; whereupon Mrs. Trent kissed him good-night and invited the guest below.

His protestations against another supper, after the excellent one he had taken at Aleck McLeod’s, met with nothing but the hospitable rejoinder:

“Oh! but you can surely manage a light refreshment, since you’ve ridden thirty miles from Marion.”

To which the little captain added her entreaties, saying:

“I’m hungry, anyway. I’m always so, I guess, but I couldn’t think of breaking bread before you unless you share it.”

Therefore sleepy Wun Lung came with the tray, and was gratified by the friendly notice of the stranger; and Mrs. Trent made tea in the little swinging kettle over her alcohol lamp, her daughter declaring that it always tasted better served in that way. Ninian found that, in spite of his protestations, the simple refreshments were very acceptable, and the trio were quietly enjoying their reunion when Jessica suddenly remembered Ephraim and sprang up to go in search of him, exclaiming:

“Even if Mr. Sharp isn’t hungry, dear old ‘Forty-niner’ is sure to be. He’ll be here soon, maybe, but I won’t wait till the kettle is cold. He’s been sleeping at the ‘house’ ever since he got back and might go straight to his room, if I don’t prevent.”

When she had gone Ninian observed upon the remarkable devotion between the old sharpshooter and his small pupil, and the mother assented; yet added, as an after-thought:

“I sometimes regret it. Jessica is a child of impulsive, yet absorbing affections. She can see no flaw in the character of anybody she loves; and–well, none of us are perfect, and Ephraim grows old.”

Still, when he entered, the lady greeted him with cordiality, and served him promptly; and presently they were all talking eagerly of the recent events at Sobrante. Of course, Pedro came in for a brief but loving mention; and to the guest’s inquiry as to what had been done with the fine flock of sheep which the old man had herded, the mistress replied:

“I have sent them up into the mountains, with the herds of a neighbor, for the present. Ephraim, here, petitioned for the post of shepherd, but I dared not give it to him,” and she looked deprecatingly toward the sharpshooter.

“No, she didn’t,” assented he. “She could trust that Old Century, but she couldn’t trust me.”

There was greater bitterness in the tone than he had ever manifested before his small captain, and she was quick to notice and resent it.

“Look here, you blessed old grumbler, you stop that, please. If not ‘please,’ stop it anyway, because I’m your commander. You know why, and only why, my mother said ‘no’ to that bright scheme of yours.” Then she explained to Ninian, who was listening closely: “You must understand that shepherding is the very loneliest thing that has to be done on a ranch. The shepherd is alone from week to week; on some ranches from month to month. He hasn’t a soul to speak to save when somebody chances to cross his field, which isn’t often. A lot of men go crazy, living that way, and mother has always been afraid for even Pedro. I never was for him, though, ’cause he always liked it and had lived so–well, forever. But naughty old ‘Forty-niner’ felt it would be his ‘duty’ to go up there away from all of us, and mother wouldn’t let him, and so–”

“And so, my honored captain, you’ll force me to be a mere hanger-on and idler.”

Jessica held up her forefinger, warningly. “That’s enough, Ephraim. I am ‘She that must be obeyed,’ Samson says, sometimes. And one of the times is now. If you and mother aren’t ashamed to disagree before my dear Mr. Sharp, I’m ashamed to have you!”

All laughed and none took offense at this plain talk which, jesting though it seemed, covered a serious meaning, and soon “Forty-niner” remarked, as if to close the subject:

“Well, all’s said and done; yet, still, I know if I’d been let to have my way in this I’d have stopped a deal of mischief. It would be better, seems to me, to have an old frontiersman living in Pedro’s cabin than a spook.”

Mrs. Trent started, and, the guest fancied, shivered slightly. But she rejoined, impatiently:

“Oh, Mr. Marsh! that nonsense again, and from you!”

“So they say, ma’am.”

Cried Jessica gayly:

“The only thing Sobrante needed to make it as lovely as those old English places one reads about in the story books was a ‘ghost’, and now we’ve got it! Honest, and I do hope you’ll see it for yourself. I want to so much, and one night Samson and I chased it, but–it got away. The ‘boys’ say now that it has even taken to horseback. Don’t you wish you might be luckier than I, Mr. Ninian?”

A glance flashed between the reporter and the sharpshooter, but not quite swiftly enough to escape the girl’s observation; and, after a moment’s pause, she exclaimed:

“Why, I believe you have already seen it!”

There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Trent broke by the stern reproof she managed to throw into one word: “Jessica!”

“Yes, mother, I know. It’s silly, and I will be careful not to mention the delightful subject before the children.”

“What are you but a child yourself, my mature little woman?” demanded the visitor, playfully.

“Why, I’m a little girl, of course; but one who always wanted to see a fairy, till somebody told me there was none. Now I’m longing for this ‘spook’–that really is, ’cause so many, many have seen it–and I’m not even let to talk about him.”

Mrs. Trent shook her head regretfully.

“I’m afraid we’ve spoiled you among us, my darling. But, leaving these unexplained things to explain themselves at their proper time, suppose you go and see that all is ready in Mr. Sharp’s room? Wun Lung is still mooning by himself on the kitchen stoop and will do what you ask him.”

“They all do that, I infer,” commented Ninian, as the child hastened away, eager to serve all whom she loved.

“Yes, they do. It’s a delightful, but not, maybe, the wisest life for any girl to live. No playmates except her two small brothers, and no schooling that is at all regular or effective. I can’t imagine what Sobrante would be without her, and yet–”

She paused and “Forty-niner” took up her sentence:

“It wouldn’t be Sobrante, mistress. That’s all. I, for one, couldn’t stay here and serve under any other body now except my captain;” and so saying, as if a shadow of the future fell upon him, the old man rose and went out, quite forgetting to say good-night.

Meanwhile, Jessica had found Wun Lung and also found him more than willing to go with her and perform even additional tasks, since by so doing he might have the comfort and safety of human presence. Fragments of talk had come to him in his kitchen concerning the apparitions which had startled the whole countryside, during these past few days, and had received the strongest confirmation from his housemate, Pasqual. The latter believed, indeed, all that he himself heard and invented much more. He had grown to be afraid of his own shadow and now resorted to the men’s quarters on each and every occasion that presented, feeling a safety among them he could not feel at the “house” among a lot of women. Of course, his defection from duty entailed endless conflicts between himself and Aunt Sally, but since this resulted in nothing worse to the delinquent than a loss of some dainty food, he could put up with it. He was away now, bunking in Marty’s room, and Wun Lung sat alone, too afraid to go to bed, yet too uneasy to enjoy the beauty of the night. His sharp, black eyes peered here and there and everywhere, about the place; and when Jessica came running to him, in her noiseless moccasins, he jumped so high that his queue flew out at a right angle from his head, and he screeched:

“Oh, mly flathe’s, mly flathe’s!”

Lady Jess laughed aloud.

“No, good Wun Lung. Not your fathers, nor even any of your relatives, but only me. Having had supper, the next thing for our dear Mr. Sharp is a bed and sleep. Come help me make it ready.”

The Chinaman rose with alacrity, and soon had collected the bed linen, towels and bucket of water, suggesting that Jessica should bring a lighted candle.

“Oh! we don’t need a light, Wun Lung. It’s as bright as day with the shutters open, and we must be quick, anyway, for the dear man has been ill and is tired.”

The room was the same that Mr. Hale had found so delightful during his own visit to the ranch, and the girl threw the shutters wide, to let in the fresh air and moonlight while they arranged the place for occupancy. She left the bed making to the longer and stronger arms of her assistant, but herself attended to the pitchers and toilet things; and while so engaged, with her back toward the open windows, was suddenly startled by an ear-piercing shriek from the Chinaman.

Shriek? Not one, but many; prolonged, reiterated, till the whole house seemed in an uproar; and facing swiftly about, to learn the cause and still the clamor, Jessica found her lately expressed desire completely gratified. For there, clearly distinct in the moonlight, not ten paces from the window whence she gazed, was the phantom horse and rider!