Lauraine Snelling (5 page)

“No, thank you. Gretchen and I have everything under control.”

Cassie took one of the chairs so that the others would do the same. Besides, she liked just looking around the room. Three racks of antlers hung from the rock face above the mantel. She wasn’t sure what they came from, other than a deer, and the two really long horns she knew came from cattle, longhorns like those they had from the show. For some reason, people back east really liked longhorns.

The rocking chair by the fire made her think of pictures she’d seen in magazines—pictures of homes with parlors or a chair by a stove. Sometimes waiting beside the chair was a small table with a lamp on it and perhaps a Bible, and often there was a braided rug in front, although this bearskin rug served just as well. Always with a feeling of love and comfort, parts she thought of as a home. She’d never realized how badly she’d wanted a home until she met Reverend Obediah Hornsmith and his wife in Belle Fourche, their first real stop on their way south. Their house was like this room with good smells coming from the kitchen and a fire dancing in the fireplace. Homes should be like this.

She glanced over to see Micah and Runs Like a Deer sitting on the edge of the sofa as if afraid to lean back. Chief was standing by the fire, his deeply lined face without expression. But when Cassie caught his eye, he raised one eyebrow and his mouth twitched. Was that almost a smile? He glanced over his shoulder, up the wall.

“What is the largest set from?” she asked.

“Bull elk. Bigger than a deer. Much bigger.”

“You’ve hunted them before?”

A nod. He must have used up his allotted supply of words. The thought made her smile. Ah, if only he would tell her more of what he knew about her father, and now the Engstroms too. How could she get that to happen?

Mavis came to the kitchen door. “Please, come and eat.”

Cassie stood and glanced at Runs Like a Deer, who looked like that is exactly what she wanted to do—run away. Micah met her gaze and shrugged the slightest bit. Again, she led the way. Sometimes she allowed herself one little bit of wishing that someone else would step forward and lead for a time. Maybe once they were moved into the cabin, things would be different. The thought of the cabin nearly made her smile.

Until she walked into the kitchen and met the stare of the older son. Ransom was not prepared to give an inch, she realized.
“Don’t expect anything and you won’t be disappointed.”
One of Jason Talbot’s pet phrases came back to her. Far better to remember her mother’s words.
“Give thanks to the Lord in all things.”

They sat down in the places indicated. Mrs. Engstrom at one end and Ransom at the other, her three companions on one side of the oval table, while she sat at Mavis’s right, with Gretchen next to her and Lucas next to his brother.

“Ransom, if you will say grace, please.”

“Thank you, Lord, for this food and this day. Amen.”

Short and sweet. Another man of few words. All of a sudden, Cassie missed the lively discussions around the supper tables of the show cast. Rehashing the day, swapping tales of days gone by, general teasing of folks who knew each other well. She clenched her teeth against the lump in her throat. What brought that on? Was there any chance that they could become friends, this family and hers, or would there always be the tension she felt around this table?

I
think yesterday went very well, getting to know them.” Ransom’s mother hustled about in the kitchen, and she was smiling. “Now tonight’s supper will be less tense, I’m sure.”

Ransom was not smiling. “You accept her without any more questions than that?” Ransom thought about those two deeds. He had studied them carefully and critically, hoping that he would see something wrong, anything wrong. They had obviously been signed at the same time, since all the signatures matched; in fact, the two were virtually identical.

“What is there to question?”

“I don’t know, but shouldn’t there be a trial time? Something that says if this doesn’t work out, we can have her removed or she would just leave?” Ransom paced the length of the room and back. “I can’t believe we are locked into this—this agreement, for want of a better word—without talking with someone else.”

“Like whom would we talk to? The man who drew these up is long gone, like your father. The law will abide by the printed deeds unless something shows up that negates the deeds. Short of offering her half of the land, I think in the long run, this is what’s best for all of us.”

Lucas came back in the house, whistling a tune.

“You certainly sound happy.” Ransom did not feel happy, so how could Lucas?

“Why shouldn’t I be? Now that I have met her, I am even more convinced that she is indeed the woman I have always dreamed of.”

Ransom snorted. “What about Betsy? You’ve been walking Betsy home for a year or so now. I bet she thinks that any day you will propose, and she will gladly become Mrs. Lucas Engstrom.”

Lucas winced. “I guess I better talk with her, huh?”

“Lucas, you don’t even know Cassie. How can you say you are in love with her?” Mavis shot her younger son a questioning look.

“I didn’t say I’m in love with her. I said I want to marry her. I know I’ll fall in love. I can feel it coming.”

“Oh—” Ransom cut off the rest of his sentence. Arguing with Lucas would do no good. Better that they put their heads together to figure a way out of this. “Maybe she would like to go homestead in Montana.”

“Would you buy her out?” Mavis dropped her comment into the discussion.

“With what?” Ransom stomped over to stand in front of the stove. “It’s getting colder out.” He stared at his mother. “You did say all of us should work on the cabin, right?”

“I did.”

“What about all the other chores we have to do around here to get ready for winter?”

“I—” Mavis sucked in a deep breath. “We can’t let them freeze to death in that cabin the way it is.”

“Let them fix it up. They’re the ones going to live there. Besides, when we were up there, I figured it was pretty much weatherproof. I was planning on staying up there while I worked on the mine.”

“You are going to go ahead with that, then?”

“I thought that during the winter the snow and cold don’t really get deep into the ground. With Lucas helping, we should be able to get the mine repaired before spring.” Why did he keep trying to convince her? Changing his mother’s mind when it was made up was as impossible as stopping a snowstorm.

“You don’t know how much there is to do there.”

“Probably, but we have the pine trees cut, so we are nearly ready to run them through the saw.”

“Perhaps Chief and Micah would be willing to help around here.”

“We can’t afford to pay them.”

“True, but if you asked, they might like something to do. Once that cabin is fixed up and they have wood for the winter, what will they have to do? Other than hunt.”

“Since they’re running their livestock with ours, they can help feed them and maintain fences.” Lucas poured himself a cup of coffee. “And like you said, they could help in the mine. Personally, I’d like to see how well Miss Lockwood can shoot. If she starred in a Wild West show, she must be pretty good at what she does. You’ve got to admit, that is one flashy horse she rides.”

“Maybe if you ask her nice, she’ll give a demonstration. I know Gretchen would be absolutely delighted.”

“Speaking of Gretchen and making nice”—Ransom decided he might as well get this over with—“sooner or later she is going to tell you that I was less than polite when we went down to the barn to talk with them earlier. Talking with some young woman who is going to waltz in here and take half our ranch is . . . was . . .” He glared at his grinning brother. “I find it very difficult to be polite at all times.”

“How bad was it?” Lucas raised his eyebrows, losing a halfhearted fight with the grin that Ransom seriously considered wiping off his face.

“Just accept that I told you, and now I am going out to split more wood.”

“That riled, eh?”

“You can come do the same. Let’s see who gets the largest pile before chores time.”

“You’re on!”

Mavis watched them go. This way they’d at least work off some of their animosity, and today’s meals would be far more pleasant. She hummed along with the rhythm of dueling axes, looking forward to getting to know her soon-to-be neighbors better. What furniture and supplies could go up to the cabin to help make it more comfortable? Maybe she should first ask them what they had. But if the wagon was like she suspected and Gretchen had confirmed, with tables, chairs, and beds all built in, they most likely had nothing.

There was the rocker she kept in her bedroom, which could go. And the old table out on the back porch. It was pretty weathered and scarred but serviceable. But what for chairs? While there was a built-in bed at the cabin, the remainder of her furnishings had been made for this house, used here as the family grew. If Ivar were here, he would build chairs with ease. Strange what brought about thoughts of him again. Even after all these years, some days she just wanted to sit down and let him tell her what he dreamed about doing on the ranch next. He’d always had big dreams. And he had looked forward to the day when his sons would be old enough to take an active part in the ranch.

Well, Ivar, here they are, and good, strapping boys you would be proud to claim.
She would make an apple spice cake next.

You could have offered Cassie and her friends the bunkhouse.
The thought stopped her in midmotion. Of course she could have, so why didn’t she? Pondering that question, she covered the remains from breakfast with a dish towel and got out the ingredients to make the cake. By the time she had refilled the stove and slipped the cake with sliced apples on top into the oven, the thunk of alternating axes was slowing. She looked out the kitchen window to see both of her sons shedding their vests. The determination etched into their faces said that their shirts would be next to go.

All they needed was for them to catch the grippe out there, but she didn’t try to stop them. They’d be much more amenable around the dinner table if they were exhausted. She also refused to let her mind worry over dividing the land. She knew that Ivar and Adam had planned on ranching this land together, not dividing it.
Dear Lord, let that happen. Let this be a good addition to our ranch, not an insurmountable problem.
Washing the cooking things in the sink always brought her time with her Lord. If someone asked her what her favorite praying place was, she’d have to say the kitchen sink.

Father, I keep seeing that young face and thinking she could have been my daughter, had I gone with Adam.
Never in all these years had she allowed her thoughts to take such a turn. She’d made her choice and had lived up to that faithfully, never looking back. Well, if she were going to be totally honest, not that she knew how to be anything but, once or twice when Ivar was passed out drunk, she had felt sorry for herself and let what-ifs play in her mind for a bit. But every time, God saw her through.

And now they are both gone. His wife is gone too, and I am left with our children. Lord God, give me all the wisdom I need here. I know you will, and I thank you for that.

Lucas had shucked his shirt. Good thing he was in the sunshine. The pile of split wood had doubled. She should go out there and stack for a while, but instead she went into the other room to build up the fire in the fireplace. After poking the coals back to life, she added wood and it caught immediately. She sat down in the rocker and picked up her Bible. Setting the rocker in motion always calmed her. Ivar had finished the chair in plenty of time to welcome their firstborn, Ransom. Ivar believed every mother needed a rocking chair for nursing babies. The creaking song of it spread peace throughout the room and into her heart. As she flipped through the New Testament, her gaze lighted on Jesus’ words
And lo, I am with you always
.

She repeated the verse aloud.
Father, I thank you for the reminder. What a promise.
She read several other passages, finishing with the love chapter in Corinthians.
Charity suffereth long, and is kind . . . beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things. . . . but the greatest of these is charity.

No more thudding. She rose and returned to the kitchen to check on her cake. She stuck a broom straw in the cake and it came out clean, signaling that it was done. She drew the cake from the oven to set on a rack on the counter. Glancing at the clock, she figured Cassie and her entourage would be up from the barn any time now. Both men were buttoning up their shirts and then shaking hands.

Truce called. For two men who were so different, usually they got along remarkably well. The woodboxes always benefited when they chose to solve their differences with the axes. One time the fence on the south edge of the south pasture came to life rather quickly for the same reason.

Sometime later she heard the dog bark. Company coming. They were here, although she could not think of them as company. They were so much more than that. She kept herself from running to the front porch and waving them in. Let the boys take care of this part. While she wanted to fetch Cassie and spend the rest of the afternoon visiting with her, she decided to take it easy. Gretchen had mentioned that several of them had gone up to the cabin to reconnoiter and decide what would be needed.

She took out the big crockery bowl she used for mixing most anything and measured in the ingredients for chocolate cookies. For some reason that sounded especially appealing. Gretchen loved them.

“Mor, they are back.” Gretchen burst through the door after school when Mavis was removing the last pan from the oven. “Oh my. What smells so good?” Picking up a still-hot one, she tossed it from hand to hand to cool before taking a bite. “I thought maybe Cassie would be in here.”

“I’m sure they have a lot to do at the wagon too. Put the cooled ones in the square cookie tin.”

“Okay, but I was hoping to go see her horse, and her, of course. Are those people with her really real Indians? I mean, Indian Indians. They really are, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

“Will she tell us about it? I want to hear all about it.”

“We shall see. Go ahead and set the table now too. The roast is in; we’ll add the vegetables later. Help me think of things we could send up to the cabin for them.”

“A cat to kill the mice.”

“That’s a good idea. One or two of those half-grown cats from the barn would be the thing.”

“Two. One cat and it will come right back here. Or some traps.”

“Or both.”

“I wish she would stay here. My bedroom is big enough.”

“Thank you. I wish so too, but hopefully we’ll have her here a lot.”
Adam Lockwood’s daughter.

They gathered up a featherbed and some quilts, along with the table and rocking chair, added the vegetables to the roast, and set the table. It was all that could be done as dusk began to settle more tightly over the valley, a slight fog rising with the cooling of the coming night.

“You go remind them that supper is about ready, all right?” Mavis smiled as Gretchen flew out the door and down the slight slope from house to barn. The boys had reservations, but Gretchen was obviously enamored with Adam’s daughter.

Adam Lockwood’s daughter, his only child.

Mavis had finished cleaning up the kitchen by the time she heard voices out front. She laid a hand on her middle to calm the flutters of anticipation and went to meet them at the door.