CHAPTER XI

TROUBLE IN THE AIR

Ruth was really more worried than she would admit and when Viola appeared at the last minute, looking a bit flurried and out of breath but as cheerful as usual, Ruth drew a long breath of relief. So far, so good, at any rate!

Tom attended to all details in his usual business-like manner and Ruth was grateful to him. The girl could not help wondering at the great change that had come over him since those days when she used to urge him to find a useful occupation and stick to it.

For some reason she was feeling oppressed by worries to-day. She had not felt that way when she got up in the morning. On the contrary, she had welcomed the thought of Golden Pass and the immediate prospect of getting to work with all her usual enthusiasm. It must be the problem of Viola that was worrying her. That mysterious encounter with Charlie Reid. What could it mean?

However, she felt that once on location with the filming of her picture started, she would be more contented and lose this disturbing feeling of unease that had taken possession of her.

At last the long and tiresome trip was over and they had landed with their belongings on the dismal, almost deserted station of Golden Pass. She looked to see that all her company were present, from the leading actor to the humble, but very important, cameramen, and then turned to Tom with a gesture of weariness.

“I’m so tired, Tom. I’d like to rest for hours and not do a single thing--not even think!”

Tom smiled at her and promptly gave orders for the removal of themselves and their luggage to Headwaters Ranch where they were to stay during the time necessary for the filming of the picture.

Tom and Ruth had gleaned their information concerning this particular ranch from Mr. Hammond. The latter, it seemed, had put up at this ranch during his former stay at Golden Pass and had heartily recommended it to Ruth and Tom as ideal headquarters for the company during the taking of the picture.

“The ranch is run by a fine old couple,” Mr. Hammond had told Tom. “And when I say run, I mean run. One of the finest ranches in the country. I can’t promise you luxuries but I can guarantee that Ma Gowdy will furnish you with all the comforts of home. Try it, my boy. You can’t go wrong.”

Tom had been only too glad to follow this advice. Writing to Headwaters Ranch, he had received a reply by return mail to the effect that the ranch could easily accommodate the number Tom had mentioned in his letter. Since the rates for rooms and meal quoted by the owner of the ranch were satisfactory, Tom, with Ruth’s entire sanction and approval, wrote back at once, clinching the deal.

This done, the young fellow drew a long sigh of relief. One of the most vexing problems of the trip had been easily solved, thanks to Mr. Hammond.

Now Tom made inquiries of the young fellows lounging about the station and found that conveyances of a sort had been sent from the ranch.

A good looking, impudent-eyed, rangy lad, had brought a rather dilapidated Ford which, he explained, was for the use of the ladies.

The luggage was to be conveyed in an open wagon driven by one of the other ranch hands. The men, it seemed, were to ride the nervous, velvet-skinned, half-wild colts, kept in hand by a third picturesquely dressed young man.

The eyes of Layton Boardman gleamed as he approached the spirited group of colts. With a soft word or two he reached out and touched the nearest, a caressing movement of hand on velvet nose. The colt trembled but stood still and in a moment the actor’s arm stole round the neck of the little beast. Gently he stroked him with his other hand and talked to him softly. With a sudden capitulating whinny the colt rubbed his head against the man’s shoulder. It was colt love talk. The two were friends.

Ruth and Helen, watching the little scene with interest, stepped forward eagerly. Even the blasé Viola had stopped talking with the nearest cowboy to watch.

Layton Boardman looked up at the young fellow in charge of the horses.

“Seems like he’s mine,” he drawled, instinctively dropping back into cowboy dialect. “Just naturally belong together. A beauty, too,” rubbing his hand over the sleek coat, “if I know hosses.”

“He’s full o’ ginger, mister,” said the youngster, his eyes admiringly on Boardman’s breadth of shoulder. One could guess at the man’s splendid muscular development, even beneath the conventional, loose-hung suit he wore. “But I guess you can manage him, all right.”

“Reckon so,” drawled Boardman, and with a lithe movement swung himself into the saddle before even the little colt knew what he was about.

The latter, surprised, reared instinctively in protest, a swift action of rippling muscles and tossing mane that would have given even an experienced rider a moment of tension.

But Boardman clung to the colt’s back as easily and with as much nonchalance as though he were reclining in an easy chair at home.

“Now, don’t go gettin’ all het up,” he told the pony in a gentle drawl of reproof. “Ain’t a bit of use, little feller. Better sit quiet and save yo’ strength,” he went on, in true cowboy style.

As though recognizing the wisdom of this advice, the colt set its feet daintily to earth and stood there, pawing the ground.

In the eyes of the cowboys who had gathered around was admiration and, better still, recognition. Layton Boardman was one of them, despite his “swell” clothes and citified air.

“You sho can handle thet colt, mister,” one of them said.

“We’ll set you to some ‘bronco bustin’ in a day or two,” another shouted.

“Fine,” Boardman’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “I’ll be there, boys. Just watch me!”

Tom looked at Ruth. She, in turn, was gazing at Layton Boardman, her lips slightly parted with pleasure, eyes bright.

Tom turned away quickly and hurried to oversee the piling of trunks on the wagon. He despised himself for feeling jealous. But this fellow, Boardman, was out of the ordinary. He had magnetism of the sort that draws both men and women to him. Also, Boardman had on his side the glamour that always surrounds an actor. By the time they were ready to start Tom was in a pretty savage mood.

However, the ride to Headwaters Ranch was not one to cultivate moods, except it be one of appreciation of grandeur and beauty in its finest form.

Montana is a land of glorious mountains and fertile valleys, of sunshine and, in the heart of its woodlands, deepest shadow. During that ride along rock mountain roads in the shaky flivver Ruth and Helen saw views unfolding before them that took their breath away, left them in a maze of beauty, groping for adjectives that could describe the things they saw.

How tell others of those lofty mountain peaks, remote and still, towering sentinel-like above the sunlit, pleasant valleys lying fertile and warm at their feet? How describe the picturesque grandeur of the cañons that dropped dizzily away from one’s very feet to a dazzling silver ribbon of stream below?

“Ruth, I’m simply steeped in beauty,” said Helen after an awed half hour of this. “It was worth coming all the way from Cheslow, if only for a glimpse of this glorious scenery.”

“I can see that I’m going to have an embarrassment of riches,” said Ruth contentedly. “I’ll have to draw lots to decide on locations for my picture.”

They came suddenly upon Headwaters Ranch, hiding away between two towering mountains. A stream wound its way through the center of the ranch, making it one of the most fertile in the country.

Ruth gave one glance at the rambling buildings, of the old ranch house itself, and of the sunlit plains back of the house dotted with herds of grazing cattle and immediately forgot all about being tired and her need of rest.

“I’ve simply got to take a look around before dark!” she told Helen and Tom, as the latter swung from his horse and opened the car door. “I shouldn’t wonder if I’d find plenty of material right here on the ranch for my picture.”

But since Helen protested that she, at least, was going to make up for some of the sleep she had lost on her travels and Tom urgently advised that Ruth wait until morning for her tour of exploration, the girl finally gave in and followed the others into the house.

There were two old people in charge of the ranch--at least, they would have seemed old to Ruth and Helen had the girls met them in the city. But out here where rugged physique and great endurance are the rule, Ma and Pa Gowdy seemed not so old, as well-seasoned and hardy.

Certain it was that they still ran the ranch with all their old efficiency, hard when it came to demanding every bit of effort from those they employed but just and square in all their dealings with “the boys.” Every one loved and was loyal to Pa and Ma Gowdy. The young folks had not been long on the ranch before they realized that Ma, good old sport that she was, had equal say in the management of the ranch with Pa--and desertions and insurrection were practically unheard of on Headwaters Ranch.

Pa, they learned upon entering the house, was out on the ranch somewhere, but Ma had waited to greet her guests.

She was a tall, powerfully built woman, dressed in uncompromising calico that failed to detract from her air of quiet forcefulness.

She looked at the company, seeming in one, quick canny glance to take in every detail of it, then led the way quietly into the big front room. Somehow Ruth gathered that Ma Gowdy was almost always silent.

“I’m Ruth Fielding,” said Ruth as the old lady turned to face them. She introduced the others and to each introduction Ma Gowdy nodded gravely, neither speaking nor smiling.

“I suppose what you all want, really, is to get to your rooms and clean up some,” she said when the introductions were over. “Andy here,” motioning to an embarrassed youth in the doorway, “will show you where you’re to stay. I reckon you’ll find everything ready for you. If you want anything, all you have to do is stick your head out the door and call out. We’re plain folks, but I hope you’ll be comfortable while you stay. Supper’ll be ready in ’bout an hour.”

She turned and left them then to the care of Andy, who seemed not at all certain what to do with his arms and legs. He used the latter finally as a means of locomotion, and succeeded in assigning the leading members of the company to large, rather scantily furnished rooms on the second floor.

Viola was heard to comment audibly on the bareness of her quarters and to yearn in homesick tones for the comfort of her “bung-ul-ow.”

Ruth was about to shut the door to her own particular apartment when Helen pushed her way in.

“Ruth, I’ve got one room too many,” she complained. “The place that ridiculous Andy gave me is big enough for sixteen people. Do have a heart--though I have reason to believe you haven’t--and let me come in with you.”

Ruth chuckled and glanced at the enormous bedstead in one corner of the room.

“There certainly is room enough for two,” she admitted. “Did you ever see such a big barn of a place?”

But, though the room was big and bare enough, the view from the windows of it was more than enough to compensate. Arms about each other, the two girls stood at the largest of the three windows, drinking in the beauty of the sun-flecked range, dotted by innumerable grazing cattle, with, beyond and above it, the towering, misty peaks of the mountains.

“That’s the Rocky Mountain range, isn’t it?” said Helen dreamily. “There ought to be good hunting up in those woods, Ruthie.”

“Plenty of deer, I suppose,” agreed Ruth. “But I hate to think of any one’s hunting them for sport--beautiful, soft-eyed things.”

“Well, I don’t suppose you can keep Tom away from it. I know he packed his rifle along and he’ll probably spend every spare minute he can get using it.”

“I wish he’d left his old rifle at home,” said Ruth crossly. “We didn’t come up here to hunt.”

Helen’s prophecy proved correct. The next morning Tom put on outing clothes and took his rifle, declaring his intention of browsing about a bit.

“I may bring back only a rabbit,” he told them. “Deer is out of season. But they say rabbit is very good to eat, cooked the way these westerners know how to cook them.”

“Don’t stay too long, will you, Tom?” asked Ruth, with just a touch of coldness in her voice. “I want to look for locations before long, you know.”

“You won’t need me until noon, will you?” he asked.

“No--and probably not then,” said Ruth, turning away with a little shrug of her shoulder.

“If Tom would rather go hunting than stay around and do his part in the preliminary work of the picture, he can go hunting and stay as long as he wants to!” Ruth told herself defiantly. “I don’t care what he does!”

And Tom, not knowing that she was piqued and hurt, gave her a curious look, hesitated, then turned and swung off in the direction of the woods, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

He had gone only a few feet when it occurred to him that he had better enter those unfamiliar woods on horseback.

“The ponies know these mountain trails better than I--at least, they’re more sure-footed,” he told himself, and turned toward the corrals.

Ruth saw to it that the members of her company were well employed. Some of them had not finished reading the script. Others set out afoot or on horseback to explore the country. Viola and Layton Boardman had already gone for a morning canter.

All her small duties attended to, Ruth felt free at last to go about her own business. And that business was, first of all, to explore Headwaters Ranch thoroughly.

She and Helen selected ponies from the corrals and set forth on a brisk canter. The ranch lands were even more picturesque close to than they had been when seen in perspective from the window.

Ma and Pa Gowdy did no farming--at least, not more than enough to supply their own needs. The fertile lands were given over almost completely to stock raising.

“I never saw so many animals in my life,” said Helen. The herds of cattle fascinated her and frightened her at the same time. “I think I’ll go back, if you don’t mind, Ruthie dear. Yonder big steer has a mean and hungry eye.”

Ruth laughed absently.

“All right. I’ll be coming along in a little while. I want to go as far as the stream and see what it looks like--if I can make it before noon.”

Ruth scarcely knew when Helen left her. Her mind was glowing with the realization that many of her scenes in her scenario could be shot right here on the ranch. She dismounted from her horse and led it lightly by the bridle. Such local color, such background!

She was roused from her dreaming by a strange sound as of the distant pounding of surf upon the shore. Even as she lifted her head with a swift, startled motion the sound became louder and swelled to a roar of pounding hoofs.

Ruth looked and her heart leaped wildly. Down upon her, started probably by some imaginary thing, swept a solid sea of steers, heads tossing, hoofs tearing at the turf. And in the path of this dreadful wave Ruth stood, unable to move, unable even to cry aloud.