CHAPTER IV—PLOTTING AND PLANNING.
That evening before the wide fireplace on which a mesquite root was cheerfully burning, three people sat plotting and planning.
Virginia had at last decided to take Uncle Tex into their confidence. He it was who had first taught five-year-old Malcolm to ride and shoot and Virginia he loved as dearly as he could have loved an own daughter if he had had one.
“It’s powerful unpleasant business, ’pears like to me,” the old man said as he shook his shaggy grey head, “but I reckon if you uns cal-late its yer dooty, we all will have to put it through, but yer ol’ Uncle Tex is common poor at the play actin’.”
He looked so truly distressed that Virginia drew her chair closer and placed her slim, strong hand on his arm. “Don’t be troubled about it yet, Uncle Tex, we’ll make it as easy for you as we can.” Then, looking to her brother, she added with thoughtful seriousness. “I wonder if we ought to permit our ward to journey across the continent alone. I am confident that she has always been protected by her father’s loving care, just as I have been, although I feel sure that I could make the journey alone and in safety, and yet, since Margaret is our ward, we are responsible, as I am sure that our father would wish us to be, for her well being.”
“You are right, Virg,” the lad replied. “I wish we knew some one who might be coming west at the same time, who would consent to keep an eye on our young tornado.”
There was a twinkle in the eyes of the lad, and his sister, noticing it, exclaimed: “Malcolm Davis, I actually believe that you like our ward all the better because she is high spirited.”
“Well,” the lad confessed, “I do like spirit, I’ll agree. I’d like to see the girl.”
“Ah reckon we-all will see plenty of her before we’re finished with her.” Uncle Tex drawled in so doleful a tone that Malcolm laughed heartily.
“Or until she finishes us,” he exclaimed merrily as he rose and wound the clock.
“We must retire early tonight, Sis,” he added, “for I want to be in the saddle before daybreak as I am due at Slater’s to help round up the young steers that are to be shipped to Chicago next week.”
The girl sprang up and looked down at the old man who sat staring dismally into the fire.
“Uncle Tex,” she exclaimed gaily as she stooped and caught one of his work-hardened hands, “you look as though you had just received an invitation to your own funeral. Don’t you enjoy the prospect of being guardian, pro tem, to a young lady tornado?”
“Don’ know nothin’ ’bout protems, Miss Virginia, dearie, but I do kinda dread bein’ gardeen to a gal that don’ want to be gardeened nohow, but if you’n Malcolm need my help, sech as it is, yer welcome to it.”
The old man had risen and impulsively the girl threw her arms about him and pressing her fresh young cheek against the wrinkled and leathery one, she said consolingly: “Now, Uncle Tex, dear, don’t lie awake worrying about your new responsibility for if Margaret proves tractable, which means nice and pleasant, we will tell her the whole truth, but if she continues disagreeable and rebellious, we will soon pack her off somewhere else.”
Then she bade goodnight to the old man who had been her father’s first overseer and he departed for his room which adjoined the kitchen, for the girl would not permit him to sleep in the less comfortable bunk house with the younger cow-boys. Then she too retired, but she lay awake until late wondering what the future held for them.