“If it’s—true,” she faltered, “I’ll—I’ll—somehow I’ll bring Ben back to his old self.”

Chapter Three

INA spent the rest of the morning under the pine tree in the grove; and after she had recovered her equanimity she applied some solid and tolerant thought to the problem which confronted her.

The complexity of that problem would have to be understood and dealt with as it became obvious. She would not try to cross any bridges before she came to them. Disappointment must not be allowed to get a hold on her.

She had lunch alone with her mother. Kate had gone to Hammell with Mr. Blaine. Ina exerted herself to be amusing and sympathetic, to reach her mother, and was not wholly unsuccessful. She had quickly sensed that if she let herself be guided by the desires and whims of her family there would be no strife. Mrs. Blaine seemed preoccupied with the innumerable duties of a rancher’s wife, when these duties had mostly been made impossible for her. For thirty years she had been a slave to labor, early and late, to the imperative need of saving. She now occupied a position where these things, though fixed in habit and mind, must not be thought of at all. It was impossible to forget them, and her trouble rose from the consequent bewilderment. The truth was, she was a sorely puzzled and unhappy woman because the circumstances of the Blaines had vastly changed. Yet she did not know this. It would have been natural for her to talk to Ina about the past, and their trials and joys, about all the homely tasks that had once been and were now no more, about neighbors as poor as they used to be, gossip, blame, worries, praise, and the possibility of a manly young rancher who might come wooing Ina. But as she had to talk of things relating to this new and different life, she was no longer natural. Ina thought her mother a rather pathetic person, yet recalling the severe toil and endless complaint of earlier years she concluded this was to be preferred.

“Mother, tell me about the Ides,” asked Ina, among other casual queries.

“Well, I’m sorry to say the Blaines and the Ides are not the neighbors they used to be,” replied Mrs. Blaine, reflectively. “I reckon it’s your father’s fault. Amos Ide has made money, but it’s never got him anywhere. He thinks we’re stuck up. Mrs. Ide these late years has kept more to herself. She used to go to church regular. But since the parson preached about prodigal sons she has stayed away. I haven’t been over there in ages. But I’ve seen Hettie. She has grown up. Fred was sweet on her once, but lately he’s taken to a town girl.”

“How about Ben?” inquired Ina.

“He’s a wild–horse hunter now, the cowboys say.”

“Sort of a—an outcast, isn’t he?” went on Ina.

“The story goes that Amos Ide gave Ben a choice between plowin’ fields an’ livin’ his wild life in the hills. Ben preferred to leave home. It was hard on his mother.”