Virginia of V. M. Ranch by Grace May North - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

 

CHAPTER III—MARGARET’S REPLY.

Virginia was right in believing that she would receive a reply from their unknown ward as soon as one could possibly reach them. She had counted the days that her own letter would require for its journey east, and then had allowed one in between, and so, at last, the day had dawned when she might reasonably expect to hear from the unknown Margaret.

Luckily Rusty Pete was in town and would bring the mail if there was any. Virginia, as she went about her household tasks that morning, skipped often to the wide front veranda and looked up the mesa. A huge cactus growing at the top of the trail stood like a silent sentinel and around this a horse and rider soon appeared.

As the girl hoped, it was one of their two faithful cow-boys. “Good morning, Rusty Pete,” she called, as he rode alongside of the wide, shady porch. “Have you letters for me?”

“I reckon I have, Miss Virginia. ’Pears to me a couple is stowed away somewhar’s.” As he spoke, the cow-boy thrust a lean, brown hand into his deep leather pocket, then, with a sudden smile that wonderfully illumined his rugged wind and sun bronzed face, he removed his wide sombrero and drew forth two letters that were very unlike each other in appearance.

“Didn’t pack the pouch ’long this time,” he explained, “so put ’em thar for safe keepin’.”

The girl laughed. “Thank you, Rusty Pete,” she said, and then the long, lank cow-boy rode on toward the corral.

After glancing at the name in the upper left hand corner of the lilac scented and tinted envelope, Virginia uttered a little excited ejaculation, and, catching her wide hat from the top step, she raced down the trail to the fenced-in enclosure where Malcolm was busy filling the trough near the windmill for the yearlings were soon to be driven in from the range.

“What ho?” he called when he saw the figure flying toward him. The girl waved the two unopened letters and Malcolm, equally interested, vaulted the bars and stood at her side.

“Has our ward written?” he inquired merrily. “Is she eager to be the adopted daughter of an elderly rancher?”

There was a shade of anxiety in the violet eyes that were lifted to him. “Brother,” she said, “I wonder if we did wrong to deceive Margaret. Of course it was merely to be a temporary arrangement. If she comes, Uncle Tex is to play the role of elderly guardian, that is, if he can be persuaded to do so, then you, as cow-boy, and I, as housekeeper, will have a splendid opportunity to become acquainted with our ward and find out what manner of girl she really is.”

While Virginia had been talking, she had opened the tinted envelope. One glance at the very short note and her merry laughter pealed forth.

“Brother, Margaret actually refuses to come. Well, we surely may thank whatever kindly fate has delivered us from having this young tornado in our home.” Virginia handed the letter to Malcolm as she spoke.

The other long white envelope she glanced at casually, and, believing it to be the usual monthly report from their lawyer’s office, she did not open it, but waving farewell to her brother, who had again vaulted the bars, Virginia returned to the house and to her morning tasks.

It was half an hour later before she recalled the long legal looking envelope.

“I might as well skim it over,” she thought, “and then I can tell Malcolm about it and he will not need to take the time to read it.”

Dropping down into a comfortable cushioned wicker chair out on the veranda, Virginia leisurely opened it. Her thoughts were wandering when she began to read, but suddenly she sat erect and stared at the typed page. Then she re-read it slowly from the beginning to be sure that she had really understood its purport.

Shags, the big collie dog, lying nearby, half dozing in the sun was startled to see his mistress leap to her feet and tear madly down the trail toward the corral. Believing that he might miss something of unusual interest if he did not follow, he raced after, barking and bounding.

Malcolm looked up in surprise. “Ho Sis,” he called, “had you overlooked a postscript in our ward’s letter? Is she coming after all?”

Then noting how pale was his sister’s face, he hastened to her side. “It’s a letter from Mr. Benton, our father’s lawyer. I don’t understand business matters as you do, and perhaps I do not rightly comprehend the meaning of this. I sincerely hope I do not.”

But Virginia had rightly understood. Mr. Denton, their lawyer in Douglas had written:

“Dear young friends:—

“This morning a letter was received by me that you may be able to interpret better than I can. I did not know that your father had been appointed guardian of a girl named Margaret Selover, but the letter which I have this day received from an eastern law firm informs me that the income which has been sent, since her father’s death, to this young girl, has been abruptly discontinued as the mines from which it is derived are no longer paying.

“Since Miss Selover is referred to as your father’s ward, I presume that she is residing with you, and so I thought best to communicate with you at once.

“Trusting that the deprivation will be but temporary,

“I remain,

“Your faithful friend and adviser,

“HARRY L. BENTON.”

“Which means?” Virginia’s tone was one of inquiry.

“Which means that we will have to lasso that young tornado and bring her here, whether or not she wishes to come,” was the dismal reply, “for surely, you and I, Virg, cannot afford to pay Miss Selover’s tuition at a fashionable seminary.”

“No, we cannot,” his sister agreed, then—“Shall I write to poor Margaret and tell her the sad news?”

“I think the ones to be pitied are Virginia and Malcolm,” the lad spoke vehemently, “but, there is no alternative. Write the letter and I’ll take it to Silver Creek Junction. I’m going that far right after lunch to help drive in the yearlings.”

A week later another letter bearing the Vine Haven postmark arrived on the desert. With a heavy heart Virginia opened it, and after a hurried perusal, she decided that “lassoing the young tornado” as her brother had called their ward, was not to be a pleasant pastime.

“My dear Mr. Davis,” she read:

“Your letter came this morning informing me that my income has ceased. I believe that to be an absolute untruth, a ruse to try to force my obedience to your will. Of course you have accomplished your end for I am too proud to remain at this seminary unless I can pay my tuition, but I warn you, my stay with you will be no longer than absolute necessity requires and it will in no way add to your happiness to have a rebellious girl in your home.

“I hope that you will reconsider and send my allowance which is already one week over due.

“MARGARET SELOVER.”

“Whew-oo!” Malcolm’s whistle was one of mingled astonishment and amusement.

“I feel about as I did when I broke in Wild Fire, Virg,” he said, his grey eyes twinkling at the recollection. “I had never before met a spirit so untamed.”

Virginia laughed. “This defiant young lady would not feel complimented to have her temper compared to a bucking broncho,” she said, “but I suppose that come she must, until she is old enough to be self-supporting, but my heart aches for her. I am almost inclined to tell her the whole truth. Shall I?” The violet eyes were moist and imploring, but the lad shook his head.

“Let’s carry out our original plan first. We may even yet find a loop hole of escape.”

Slowly and thoughtfully, Virginia walked back over the well worn trail to the ranch house. She was planning the letter which later was written and mailed.