CHAPTER II
IN THE BLUE BONNET COUNTRY
"IF one of you speaks aloud in the next five minutes," declared BlueBonnet earnestly, "I'll never forgive you."
No one being inclined to risk Blue Bonnet's undying enmity, there wascomplete silence for the space of time imposed. They were rollingalong the smooth white road between the railway station and the ranch,Grandmother Clyde and the girls in a buckboard drawn by sturdy littlemustangs, while Alec, Uncle Joe and Uncle Cliff, who had stayed behindto look after the luggage, were following on horseback.
Blue Bonnet sat tense and still, her hands clasped in her lap, thecolor coming and going in her face in rapid waves of pink and white;her eyes very shiny, her lips quivering. This home-coming was havingan effect she had not dreamed of. Every familiar object, every turn ofthe road that brought her nearer the beloved ranch, gave her a new anddelicious thrill.
As they neared the modern wire fence two dusky little greaserpiccaninnies rose out of the chaparral, hurled themselves on the biggate and held it open, standing like sentinels, bursting withimportance, as the buckboard rolled through.
"They're Pancho's twins!" cried Blue Bonnet. "Stop, Miguel, while Igive them something." Hurriedly seizing a half-eaten box of candy fromAmanda's surprised hands, Blue Bonnet leaned down and tossed it to thegrinning youngsters.
"_Muchas gracias_, Senorita!" they cried in a duet, their black eyeswide with joy.
"Bless the babies!" exclaimed Kitty, "--did you hear what they calledyou?"
Blue Bonnet laughed. "I'm never called anything else here. They meant'Many thanks, Ma'am.' You will be 'Senorita' too,--better get used toit."
"Oh, I shall love it," cried Kitty. "It sounds like a title--'my lady'or 'your grace' or something grand."
"Grandmother will be 'Senora'--doesn't it just suit her, girls?" askedBlue Bonnet.
"Mrs. Clyde, may we call you 'Senora,' too?" asked Debby, "--justwhile we're on the ranch?"
"Debby believes in the eternal fitness of things," put in Kitty.
"Certainly, you may call me Senora," said Mrs. Clyde. "When you're inTexas do as the Texans do," she paraphrased.
"I intend to learn all the Spanish I can while I'm here," remarkedSarah. "I brought a grammar and a dictionary--"
A chorus of indignation went up from the other girls.
"This isn't a 'General Culture Club,' Sarah Blake," scolded Kitty. "Wedidn't come to the Blue Bonnet ranch for mutual improvement--but for_fun_!"
"We'll make a bonfire of those books," warned Blue Bonnet.
"All the Spanish that I can absorb through my--pores, is welcome tostick," said Debby, "but I'm not going to dig for it."
Sarah tactfully changed the subject. "Your house is a good way fromthe gate, Blue Bonnet," she remarked.
"Nearly two miles," Blue Bonnet smiled.
"There's nothing like owning all outdoors!" commented Kitty.
"Grandfather used to own nearly all outdoors," returned Blue Bonnet."When father was a little boy nobody had fences and the cattle rangedthrough two or three counties. But now we keep a lot of fence-riders,who don't do a thing but mend fences, day after day. There's thebridge,--now as soon as we cross the river you can see theranch-house."
"Is this what you call the 'river?'" Sarah asked, as they rattled overthe pretty little stream.
"We call it a 'rio' in Texas, and you'd better not insult us bycalling it a creek, Senorita Blake," Blue Bonnet warned her.
"I won't--'rio' is such a pretty name," said Sarah, making a mentalnote of it for future use.
"There!" cried Blue Bonnet, "behold the 'casa' of the Blue Bonnetranch!"
What they saw was a long, low, rambling house, with wide, hospitableverandas embowered in half-tropical vines. It had evidently startedout as a one-roomed, Spanish 'adobe,' and, as the needs of the familydemanded it, an ell had been added here, a room there, like cells in abee-hive, until now it covered a good deal of territory, still keepingits one-storied, Mission-like character.
"Oh, Blue Bonnet--it's just what I wanted it to be," exclaimed Kitty."It looks as if a fat, Spanish monk might come out of that door thisvery minute."
"Instead of which there is my dear old Benita, and Pancho and his wifeand the children and--oh, everybody!" Blue Bonnet was bouncing up anddown now with excitement.
Alec and the other two riders came up in a cloud of dust just asMiguel raced the mustangs up to the veranda steps, where all the ranchhands were gathered to greet the young Senorita.
"Senorita mia!" cried Benita, and Blue Bonnet leaped from the wheelstraight into her old nurse's arms.
"And this is Grandmother, Benita," said Blue Bonnet, helping Mrs.Clyde from her place.
"The little Senora's mother--God bless you!" cried Benita in Spanish.Then, in spite of her stiff joints, she made a deep, old-fashionedcurtsy.
Tears sprang to the eyes of the Eastern woman. "Thank you, Benita,"she said. "My daughter always wrote lovingly of you."
"Blessed Senora!" breathed Benita fervently.
"This is my grandmother, everybody," said Blue Bonnet, presenting Mrs.Clyde to the entire circle, "and these are my friends--'amigos' fromMassachusetts."
"Pleased to know ye!" said Pinto Pete and Shady, the only Americancowboys on the ranch; while the Mexicans, as one voice, gave a heartychorus of greeting.
The six "amigos" from Massachusetts were thrilled to the core,although at the same time a trifle embarrassed as to the correct wayof responding to this vociferous welcome. Blue Bonnet set them all anexample: she had a smile and a word for every man, woman and child,and finally sent them all off with a--"Come back when my trunksarrive!" And the hint brought a fresh gleam to already beaming faces.
Later, after a bountiful supper, they all gathered once more on thebroad veranda while Blue Bonnet distributed her gifts. That those daysin New York had been profitably spent was fully attested now when thecontents of the many trunks were displayed. There were ribbons, scarfsand gay beads for the women, toys and sweets for the children, andwonderful pocket-knives, pipes and tobacco pouches for the men.
The Blue Bonnet ranch had been part of an original Spanish land-grantin the days when Texas was still part of Mexico, and had descendedfrom father to son until it came into the hands of Blue Bonnet'sgrandfather. Many of the Mexican ranch-hands had been born on theplace and looked on the Ashe family as their natural guardians andprotectors. As yet they had not acquired a Yankee sense ofindependence, nor had they lost the soft Southern courtesy inherent intheir race. They came up one at a time to Blue Bonnet as she stood atthe top of the steps, her gifts in a great heap beside her; and eachone, as he received his gift from her hand, called down a blessing onthe head of the young Senorita. Then, laughing, chatting, andcomparing gifts like a crowd of children, they trooped away, thesingle men to the "bunk-house" by the big corral, the married couplesand their children to little cabins scattered over the place.
"It's just like some old Spanish tale," declared Alec. "Blue Bonnet isa princess just returned to her castle, and all the serfs are come topay her homage."
"I suppose Don Quixote will be off soon, hunting wind-mills?"suggested Kitty, with a mocking glance at Alec, whose new gun was thepride of his heart.
Alec deigned no reply.
"Look!" said Mrs. Clyde, softly, "--there goes the sun."
They followed her glance across the prairie that stretched away, greenand softly undulating, in front of the veranda, and watched the reddisk as it sank in a blaze of glory at the edge of the plain.
"Now you know," said Blue Bonnet, "why I felt like pushing back thehouses in Woodford--at first they just suffocated me."
Mrs. Clyde smiled with new understanding. "You probably agree with ourMassachusetts writer who complained that people in cities live tooclose together and not near enough," she said, patting Blue Bonnet'shead as the girl, sitting on the step below her, leaned against herknee.
"Didn't you ever get lonesome here?" asked Debby, snuggling up toAmanda. She had bee
n brought up among houses.
"Lonesome?" echoed Blue Bonnet. "I never knew what lonesomemeant--till my first day in school!"
All too soon came bedtime.
"Where are we all to sleep?" Blue Bonnet asked Benita. It was likeBlue Bonnet not to give the matter a thought until beds were actuallyin demand.
Benita led the way proudly. "The Senora will have the little Senora'sroom," she said, throwing open the door of that long unused chamber.
Mrs. Clyde entered it with softened eyes.
"Senorita's own room is ready for her, and here is place for theothers." Benita proceeded to the very end of a long ell to a huge airyroom, seemingly all windows. It was Blue Bonnet's old nursery, and,next to the living-room, the largest room in the house. Four singlebeds, one in each corner, showed how Benita had solved the sleepingproblem.
The girls gave a shout of delight; visions of bedtime frolics and longtalks after lights were out, sent them dancing about the place.
"I tell you what," announced Blue Bonnet, "--if you imagine I am goingoff by myself when there's a sleeping-party like this going on, you'remistaken. I say--" here she turned on Sarah, "--you've always wanted abed-room all to yourself; you told me so, one day. Well, here's yourchance--you're welcome to every inch of mine!"
Sarah, quite willing to confine her "parties" to daylight hours,accepted the proposition eagerly. Maybe then she could get a peek atthose Spanish books.
"Are you sure you're willing to give it up?" she asked quite honestly.
And Blue Bonnet with an incredulous stare returned: "Are you quitewilling to give _this_ up?"
"Perfectly!" exclaimed Sarah with such promptness that Blue Bonnetdismissed her lurking suspicion that Sarah was just "being polite" andaccepted the exchange.
It was a happy Sarah who tucked herself away in a little bed all toherself, in a dainty room destined to be her very own for two longmonths. Four times happy was the quartet who shared the nursery. Itwas a long time before they subsided. There were so many things to beobserved and discussed in that delightful place. Uncle Joe Terry hadhad a hand in its arrangement, and now that worthy man would have feltwell repaid if he could have heard the gales of merriment over hismasterpieces of interior decoration.
In her childhood Blue Bonnet had been blessed--or afflicted--with moredolls than ever fell to the lot of child before. Now thelong-discarded nursery-folk formed a frieze around the entire room,the poor darlings being, like Blue-beard's wives, suspended by theirhair. Every nationality and every degree of mutilation was thererepresented, and the effect was funny beyond description. On thebroad mantel-shelf over the stone fireplace reposed drums,merry-go-rounds, trumpets and toy horses; while on the hearth was atiny kitchen range bearing a complete assortment of pots and pans of amost diminutive size. In every available nook of the room stooddoll-carriages, rocking-horses, go-carts and fire-engines, eachshowing the scars of Blue Bonnet's stormy childhood.
"I wish," cried Kitty, "that we weren't any of us a day over seven!"
While the girls were still making merry over her childhood treasuresBlue Bonnet slipped away. She had not had a word alone with UncleCliff for days, and had exchanged only a hurried greeting with UncleJoe at the station. And there were such heaps of things to talk over!
She found them both on the veranda, enjoying the evening breeze thatcame laden with sweet scents from off the prairie. Blue Bonnet clappedher hands over Uncle Joe's eyes in her old madcap fashion.
"It's Blue Bon--er--Elizabeth, I mean," he guessed promptly.
"Wrong!" cried Blue Bonnet sternly. "Elizabeth Ashe was left behind inMassachusetts, and only Blue Bonnet has come back to the ranch."
"Thank goodness for that!" breathed Uncle Joe devoutly. "Elizabethcame mighty hard. It didn't fit, somehow. I reckon you're glad to get_home_, Blue Bonnet?"
"Glad? Why, there isn't a word in the whole English dictionary thatmeans just what I feel, Uncle Joe," replied Blue Bonnet, perching onthe arm of his chair. "I love every inch of the state of Texas."
The two men exchanged a significant glance that was not lost on BlueBonnet.
"Oh, I know what you are thinking of, Uncle Cliff. You remember theday when I said I hated the West and all it stood for. I meant thattoo--then. But I feel different now. It isn't that I'm sorry I wentaway; I just had to go, feeling as I did. I reckon I'll always be thatway--I have to find things out for myself."
Uncle Joe smiled humorously. "Reckon we're most of us built that way,eh, Cliff?"
Mr. Ashe gave a rueful nod. "Yes, what the other fellow has beenthrough doesn't count for much. We all have to blister our fingersbefore we'll believe that fire really burns."
They were all silent for a moment.
"Has any one seen Solomon?" asked Blue Bonnet suddenly.
"I think Don is showing him over the ranch," replied Uncle Joe. "I sawthem both headed for the stables a while ago."
"I'm glad they're going to get on well," said Blue Bonnet in arelieved tone. "I was afraid Don would be jealous." She gave a clearloud whistle, and a moment later the two animals came racing acrossthe yard, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to be first upthe steps. Blue Bonnet stooped and picked up the smaller dog, fondlinghim and saying foolish things. Don, the big collie, gave a low whineand looked up at her piteously.
"Not jealous, did you say?" laughed Uncle Joe.
Blue Bonnet patted the collie's head. "Good dog," she said soothingly."You're too big to be carried, Don." Then she put down Solomon andbending put a hand under Don's muzzle; his soft eyes met hersaffectionately. "I'm going to put Solomon in your charge--understand?You must warn him about snakes, Don,--and don't let the coyotes gethim." A sharp bark from Don Blue Bonnet was satisfied to take for anaffirmative answer, and with another pat sent him off for the night.
"Has Alec some place to sleep?" inquired Blue Bonnet, her hospitableinstincts suddenly and rather tardily aroused.
"Benita has put him in the ell by me. He's there now, unpackingto-night so that he won't have to waste any time to-morrow. I neversaw a boy so keen about ranch-life as he is. He seems to look onhimself as a sort of pioneer in a new country," Uncle Joe chuckled.
"It's all new to him," rejoined Blue Bonnet. "This is his firstglimpse of the West. I hope he gets strong and well out here--GeneralTrent worries so about him."
"It will be the making of him," Uncle Cliff assured her. "He'll goback to Massachusetts as husky as Pinto Pete, if he'll just learn tolive outdoors, and leave books alone for a while."
"I'm going to hide every book he has brought with him," declared BlueBonnet. "And Sarah Blake will need looking after--she has the bookhabit, too."
Uncle Joe shook his head. "It seems to be a germ disease they haveback there in Massachusetts. Glad you didn't catch it, Blue Bonnet."
"Oh, I'm immune!" laughed she, as she said good-night and went to seekBenita.
She found her old nurse in the kitchen, resting after an arduous day.Gertrudis, the famous cook "loaned" for the summer by a neighboringranch, was mixing something mysterious in a wooden bowl, while hergranddaughter Juanita, a nut-brown beauty, pirouetted about the room,showing off her new rosettes in a Spanish dance.
Blue Bonnet clapped her hands. "That's a pretty step, Juanita,--willyou teach it to me some day?"
"Si, Senorita," she assented eagerly, showing all her white teeth in adelighted smile. "It is the _cachucha_."
"The girls will all want to learn it," Blue Bonnet assured her. Shedraw Benita into the dining-room and then gave her a hearty squeeze."Everything's just lovely, you old dear," she cried. "The girls arecrazy about the nursery, and they think you are the dearest ever!"
Benita's wrinkled face beamed. "If the Senorita is pleased, old Benitais happy," she said deprecatingly.
"Benita, I missed you dreadfully, off there in Woodford. I had to makemy own bed and do my own mending!"
Benita gave an odd little sound of distress. "But Benita will do itnow," she urged anxiously.
"You'll have
to get around Grandmother then, Benita,--I can't."
"The Senora is kind--" Benita began.
"--but firm," added Blue Bonnet. "I leave her to you!"
It was so late before the girls finally settled down into theirrespective corners, that it seemed only about five minutes before theywere awakened at daybreak by the most terrific tumult that ever smotethe ears of slumbering innocence.
Bang, bang! Boom, crash, bang! Shouts, yells, wild Comanche-like criesrent the ear, and punctuated the incessant booming that shook even thethick adobe walls of the nursery.
Four terrified faces were raised simultaneously from four white beds,and four voices in chorus whispered: "What is it?" No one dared stir.
Suddenly the door was burst open and in sprang a white-robed figure,hair flying, eyes wide with terror. Straight to Blue Bonnet's bed thespectre flew and leaped into the middle of it with a plump that madeits occupant gasp.
"Oh, girls, it's Indians!" wailed the newcomer; and then they saw thatit was Sarah.
"Indians?" exclaimed Blue Bonnet. "There aren't any Indians aroundhere. Get off my chest and I'll go see."
Casting off the bed-clothes and the startled Sarah at the same time,with one spring Blue Bonnet was at the window. What she saw there washardly reassuring; the whole space between the house and the stablesseemed to be filled with a howling, whirling mass of men. In the grayhalf-light of early dawn she could recognize no one. Suddenly a freshexplosion set the windows rattling; there was a hiss and a glare ofred. In the glow she caught a glimpse of Alec; he held a revolver andwas shooting it with sickening rapidity, not stopping to take aim.
Blue Bonnet staggered back faint with horror, and the girls gatheredfearfully about her. Uncle Cliff's voice giving an order came to themfrom outside. Blue Bonnet leaned out and shrieked--"Uncle,Uncle--what's the matter--oh, what is it?"
Never had voice seemed so welcome as those calm, soothing tones, whenUncle Cliff replied: "Reckon you've forgotten what day it is, Honey."
Blue Bonnet turned on the girls. "What--what day is it?"
And the light from within was suddenly greater than that from withoutas they answered in a sheepish chorus:
"The Fourth of July!"