Olive and Jack were waiting for the party to begin, when Elizabeth Harmon arrived early to say good-by to Jack alone, and Olive stole out on the porch of the rancho to wait.
Frank Kent, in his evening clothes, coming from his tent across the fields on his way into the house, spied Olive. Suddenly he remembered the frightened, ignorant girl who had sought shelter at the Rainbow Ranch less than a year before, and marveled at the change. He stopped for a moment; and in the stiff English fashion, which no amount of American experience would make him lose, said admiringly: "I say, Miss Olive, you are looking awfully pretty to-night. I want to tell you how glad I am that you have never had any more trouble from the Indian woman and that things are now so jolly for you," and then he passed on indoors to find Jack.
Ten minutes later Donald and Mrs. Harmon found Olive still on the porch ready to receive them. Mrs. Harmon took Olive's hand and then dropped it and stared at her curiously. The image of a half-forgotten face came back to her; somewhere in her past had she not seen a girl who looked like this Olive Ralston? Yet when and where had she seen her?
"Olive," Mrs. Harmon questioned, for a moment losing her reserve and caution, "have you any Spanish or Italian ancestors? I have no right to be curious about you, but you are so unlike the other ranch girls, and I remember Jack said you were only an adopted sister."
Olive shook her head; but she looked straight at the older woman and there was something in her timid, appealing gaze that gave another pull to the chords of memory.
"I don't know anything about my people, Mrs. Harmon," Olive answered with quiet dignity. "Since you seem interested to know, I was brought up by an old Indian woman and her son, until Jack and the other girls found me and brought me home to live with them. I don't even know my own name."
A hundred questions came to Mrs. Harmon's mind and almost forced themselves from her lips, but she was resolutely silent. Why should she care to know more of this stray girl's past history; what could it mean to her? If she knew nothing she could always assure herself that the suspicion that had just crossed her mind was an absurdity. Without another word, followed by Olive and Donald, they entered the rancho.
At ten o'clock the party was going successfully. But Ruth found her interest waning; it seemed almost time for Jim to come home.
She must see him alone to tell him that life was worth while to her now only because of his love. Jim was not like other men, he was better and braver and stronger; the woman who loved him believed she trusted him utterly.
It was a clear, starlit night without a moon. Silently Ruth slipped away from the familiar company, and wrapping a white shawl around her, stole from the house along the trail.