Lauraine Snelling (14 page)

“They’re coming back. Micah, let’s get some more trees pulled out.”

Lucas, leading the pack, loped his horse down to join them and made it dance a bit pulling up.
Showoff.

“Hey, we thought you’d be done by now,” he said with a grin.

“No you didn’t. You knew the horses would need a rest. And so did we. How about you all work on the fence and we’ll finish the trees?”

“I’m going to Hill City. I’ll stop by Arnett’s on the way home. Gotta feed his dog.”

“I should really head on home,” Dan Arnett said with a nod. “You’ve all been so kind to me.”

“That’s what neighbors are for, but if you plan to be here tomorrow, why not stay?” Mavis smiled, offering the invitation. “I mean, it’s no trouble and we’d love to have you.”

“Besides, I have a lot of questions for you.” Ransom added his plea. “I want to know more about using wood, and maybe take a look at dragging over some of those downed trees we looked at.”

Cassie watched the exchange. How could the Engstroms be so generous? It seemed they truly cared for the old man. But why? She realized his wife had died and he lived alone. Still . . . they must have been friends for a long time was all she could think.

But they were offering her that same kind of caring. Why? Sure, she had a piece of paper that gave her title to half the land. But ever since she walked through that door, Mrs. Engstrom, er, Mavis, had offered her nothing but welcome and a feeling that she belonged to the family. A long-lost relative, perhaps. If she allowed herself to think on it further, would her father, or her mother and father, have been as welcoming if one of the sons had shown up at the show?

She had no answer. And did it really matter? After all, one couldn’t change the past. Her mother had said that often enough. You couldn’t change the past, you couldn’t live in the future. You could only live in the day, the right now.

They were still cleaning up the garden area when Gretchen came riding up the trail, just home from school.

Cassie saw Gretchen and groaned. She and Wind Dancer were supposed to put on a show today. At least Jenna wasn’t along.

More apologies needed. She dragged another bush she’d pulled out over to one of the brush piles. But instead of Wind Dancer, she was riding one of the Engstroms’ horses while hers was happily grazing in the far pasture.

Gretchen waved and stopped her horse to look around. “This sure looks different.”

Mavis nodded. “We’re pretty close to finished with both the corral and the garden. There are a few cookies left in the tin.”

“Thanks. I hurried home.”

Cassie lifted her hands, a gesture of contrition. “I’m sorry we’re not ready, but I can ride back down with you and whistle for Wind Dancer. He’ll meet us at the barn.”

“You would do that?”

“I said I would, but this all took longer than we thought it would.”
Not that I had any idea how long anything would take. Or what we were going to do, for that matter.

“Maybe tomorrow would be better,” Mavis said as she joined them.

“Well, Jenna can come then, and her little brother really wants to watch too.”

“Are you sure?”

Gretchen nodded with a grin. “That would be better. May I see what the cabin looks like now?”

“Of course.” Cassie dismounted and dropped the reins. Ground tying was new to her, but she couldn’t wait to train Wind Dancer to it. All the Engstrom horses were trained that way. “Come on.” She opened the door and ushered Gretchen in.

“It looks nice. The last time I was here, rats and squirrels had made it their home. Did Mor show you where Pa carved their initials?” She crossed the room to the kitchen and pointed at the small carving under the shelf. “Their initials and the year. He did it again down at the ranch house when they moved there.” She traced the letters with one finger. “Sometimes I really miss him.”

“I feel the same for my father. When he died I thought the world would stop.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No. It didn’t. I know he would have loved it here. He talked about the valley a lot before my mother died but after that not so much. I wish he could have been buried here, at least.”

“Well, I’m glad you came.” Gretchen walked back outside with Cassie. “Where’s Lucas?”

“Gone to Hill City. He left a couple of hours ago.”

What if he returns with a match all set up? When could she go to town to buy more shells? Putting the shells on the Engstrom account did not sit well with her at all. When she won a match, she would pay them back with interest.

Perhaps she could find some more information in the wagon. She still had some drawers to go through again. Maybe she should just take some of those names she had and send a letter to say she was available and interested. Her father had always been a stickler for doing things in advance and keeping careful records. That was something she would have to start doing. All those years she could have been learning things like this. But it never entered her mind that the show would fold and she’d be looking for work. If she ever got a hold of Jason Talbot . . . Here they were with nothing and no idea how much money he had taken with him. What a scoundrel. What would it be like to get some of that money? Even more delicious, to get even? How would one ever go about that? What would God think if she prayed for a way to get even?

M
y, that felt good today.” Mavis squirmed back into the most comfortable position on her rocker and pulled her shawl in around close. Her rocker creaked; that old familiar sound made the day complete.

“What?” Ransom looked up from the ledger in front of him.

“Pulling those trees out, getting that garden plot back toward planting condition felt really good. That Micah is really a worker.”

“Yes, he is. He’s so quiet I wondered about him, but when he has something to offer, he says it. Up there with the sawmill, he would see what needed doing next and go do it.”

“And John Birdwing.” She pushed back in her rocking chair and let it carry her back and forth, as it did when her babies were tiny. “I remember him as a young brave who sometimes got frustrated with the two white men he had taken on. But if they had not listened to him, none of this would be here now. When he left with Talbot and Lockwood, your pa lost his two best friends.”

“Then how come no one ever talked about those early days?” Ransom’s voice was sharp, accusing. “We used to ask questions about the mine and the ranch, and no one ever mentioned a man named Lockwood or an Indian named John Birdwing. Like they didn’t exist.”

“I think . . .” Mavis rocked for a bit, staring into the fire. “I think your pa had a hard time forgiving them for leaving. In fact, it may well be that he never did, at least not completely. He and Adam had such big dreams for this place, for parlaying their land purchase into a prime property, run Appaloosas—oh, the dreams. And then John and Adam left, just like that, and as far as your father could see, they took his dream with them. He was afraid it wouldn’t happen without the others.”

“How did they meet Talbot?”

“Over a card game at the saloon one night.”

Ransom’s mouth dropped open. “Pa gambled at cards?”

“No. He’d sometimes go into town with Adam, but he never gambled, never bet on anything. Said he just couldn’t see throwing money out on the table and watching someone else scoop it up. But with Lockwood, it was different. He loved the challenge, the adventure, the risk of winning big or losing big. So when Talbot bet half his Wild West Show and lost, Adam found himself the half owner of the show.”

“Half owner of a four-hundred-acre piece of land and half owner of a Wild West show. Some businessman. What made him leave with the show?”

“The adventure of it, I suppose. A chance to see the country and meet new people. Maybe the risk too. A Wild West show is far riskier than a solid ranch on your own land. Yes, as I look back, I think the risk was a big draw to him. And he’d always loved to shoot. He would bet on himself to win. So to hear he had a shooting act was no surprise.”

Ransom quietly closed the ledger. “You all kept in contact?”

“We’d hear from him sporadically. Your father and I were married by then and living in the cabin. Ivar felt driven to build us a bigger house, especially when you were coming along. We were running a few cows; buying a good bull was a major investment. But as long as we could live off the land, we plowed every penny back into the place. We logged all the trees to build this house, including milling the timbers for the roof. Neighbors came and helped build the first section of the house. We had it roofed and windows in by that winter. Ivar hauled all the rock for the fireplace. Your pa excelled at anything that had to do with building. That winter he worked on the inside of the house, and when he finished that, he started on the furniture.”

“He excelled at everything. He’s a hard act to follow.”

She smiled and patted the rocking chair she was sitting in. “This was the first piece he made. He surprised me with it for Christmas, and you were born in February.”

She glanced up at the carved walnut clock on the mantel, a work of art, really, something Ivar had made in the later years. “I thought sure Lucas would be back by now. He said he’d stop by Arnett’s to feed the dog and make sure the chickens are locked up. I wish Arnett would let me buy those chickens from him. We could put them in with what we have and make it easier for him.”

“Maybe going out to do his few chores is what is keeping him going.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Mavis’s eldest son never ceased to amaze her; he was often quiet, keeping his own counsel, and then he’d come up with something deep. “You have a good point. I thought of offering him the bunkhouse for the winter. I worry about him over there all by himself.”

“There’s my mother, taking in strays again.” He cocked his head to listen. “Lucas is home. Wonder what amazing story he’ll have concocted this time.”

“One never knows.” Mavis breathed a prayer of thanks. Her son being gone like this was too reminiscent of the years when Ivar was drinking, and these last few years Lucas liked to spend an evening at the saloon. Sometimes he slept in the bunkhouse, and she figured it was because he knew how adamant her rule of no drinking was. Ivar nearly lost his family, his ranch, and everything else before he stopped. She hated liquor and what it did to men. And thus to their families.

Philosophizing was enjoyable, in a way, but it accomplished nothing practical. Speaking of practical, “Those elk haunches we have left, do you think we should cut them up tomorrow?”

“I’d like to let them hang at least one more day.”

She nodded. “It’s up to you. I think I’ll take Cassie into town with me tomorrow, then. I have a list for at the store, and I thought to go visit with the Brandenburgs a bit.”

“You think she’ll want to go?”

How should she phrase this? “I know she wants to get shells and some other things. It never hurts to ask. Too, she really likes the Brandenburgs. And I’d like her to get to meet more of our friends, become part of the community.”

“Remember she promised Gretchen she’d do her tricks with Wind Dancer after school.”

“I know. We’ll be back by then. What are you going to do tomorrow? Do you want to come into town also?”

He shook his head. “Thought I’d take Arnett back up to the big trees again. Let him help me choose which ones to take out. He sure knows his trees and how to run that sawmill. Any idea how many head of cattle he still has?”

“No, we’ve not talked about things like that. He misses Hazel so much, he seems lost. So do I at times. Not like him, of course, but Hazel was a good friend.”

“I wonder if he’d be of a mind to trade that sawmill for a cow or two.”

“Why buy it when he said you could use it all you wanted?”

“Well, Lucas and I could maybe turn that into a winter business. Let folks know we’ll come with the sawmill and cut up their trees for them. Easier than hauling the trees to the lumber mill.”

Mavis pondered that idea a while. “What about the mine?”

“That can be a job for later this winter, shoring up that cave-in. I don’t plan on living under the ground, you know.”

Mavis’s breastbone gave a tiny shudder; it happened whenever he talked about the mine. “I want you to promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll never go down in that mine by yourself, and you’ll always tell someone else too that you’re going in there. Also, I want you to make a diagram of the mine tunnels, so if someone has to come looking for you, they’ll have an idea of where to begin.”

“All right. I promise. Not sure what drives me to thinking there might still be some gold in there. Guess that’s my idea of a gamble, or maybe an adventure.” He looked at his mother when he heard the back door open and close.

“We’re in here,” Mavis called. “Your supper is in the warming oven.”

“Thanks. Sorry I’m late.”

They heard Lucas banging around in the kitchen, and pretty soon he came into the big room in his stockinged feet and carrying a full plate. “All was well at Arnett’s. I picked the eggs and fed the dog and the chickens.” He sat down on the other side of the fireplace from his mother and stretched out his feet to the heat. “It’s getting real cold out there. Probably could have watched the thermometer falling. It’s close to freezing already.”

“So how did your meeting go with Mr. Porter?”

“Fine. Chamberlain, the head cook, would like another elk. Actually, he’d like one every week. I told him it wasn’t like raising cattle; they’re wild and sometimes can’t be found.”

Leave it to Lucas to decide to tell the story in his own time, when she wanted him to get straight to the part about the shooting match.

She picked up the mending basket and set it on her lap, taking out one of the men’s socks that needed darning. She slid the sock over the darning egg that Ivar had carved for her so many years ago. Egg-shaped but with a handle and worn smooth through his careful sanding and her using it all these years, the piece of oak aged golden. She unwound the fine wool yarn she’d saved from a hand-knitted sock that was too worn out to mend anymore. Threading the big-eyed darning needle, she slipped her thimble on her finger and stretched the sock over the egg so the hole was on top.

She first worked around the hole with small running stitches, then began the weaving pattern that blended right in with the sock so as to never cause blisters from long use. She’d been darning socks and mending other clothes ever since her grandmother taught her how when she was around ten. Darning was the kind of thing one could do on a winter’s eve when the family was gathered in this room and visiting or each working on their own project.

Ransom was often working at the books or reading, Gretchen doing her homework, and Lucas turning antlers into buttons for a customer he’d had for years. And Jesse always had his nose buried in a science book or any medical book he could find. He’d be so absorbed, he never heard anyone, even if they called his name. Touch him and he’d smile that gentle smile of his. Often he would have whatever wounded animal he was doctoring, if small enough, tucked into his shirt. The animals always knew they could trust him.

Fine memories.

If she wasn’t darning, she was often quilting or knitting. Or her favorite—tatting. But she needed better light for tatting than for the other things.

“Mr. Porter is real excited about setting up a shooting match. He wants to come out here and talk to Miss Lockwood about it, so I invited him for dinner on Sunday. I figured that would be as good a time as any.”

Mavis nodded. “Good idea. We can roast one of the elk haunches that day. It’s a shame we couldn’t have a smoked one to serve, but that won’t be done yet. I’ll tell Cassie tomorrow.” She paused. “Maybe we should invite some others. A good time for people around here to know Cassie better too.”

“When I told him about her acts, he got an idea to put on a Wild West show in Hill City during the summer to entertain the summer folk. He wants to talk to her about that too.”

“Where could they do something like that?”

“I don’t know, but knowing him, he’ll come up with something. Maybe have some steer wrestling and calf roping. That kind of thing. I thought I’d ask around and see what else might be included.”

“Be good to have a big barbecue too. Like we do here.” Ransom joined in the conversation.

“And a dance in the evening?” Lucas set his plate down. “We just might have all kinds of good ideas for him.” He turned to look at his mother. “Do you think Miss Lockwood might loan out George for something like that? He’d be quite a draw.”

“Especially if folks saw George taking a carrot from Gretchen or someone young like that.” Mavis laid her darning down. “Oh, Lucas, maybe this could be a real help for them.”

“It can’t hurt to try. Of course, Mr. Porter is trying to bring more customers in for his hotel. That’s why he’s doing it, but something like this could be good for a lot of people.”

Mavis wove the last of the yarn through a couple of stitches and pulled the needle free. She put the needle away in the needle holder and the sock and egg back in the mending basket. “Anyone want anything before I go to bed?”

Each of her sons shook his head. “’Night, Mor,” they chorused like they had as children. Mavis made her way to her bedroom, with a kerosene lamp in hand and set it on the dresser by her bed.

While Ransom didn’t say much, she knew he still resented Cassie’s arrival, but the way she and the others had all pitched in and helped with the sawmill and the elk butchering might have made a difference. The stars in Lucas’s eyes grew brighter whenever he spoke of her. And here she thought he was in love with Betsy and they would be hearing of coming nuptials at any time.
Please, Lord, I don’t want anyone getting hurt.