Lauraine Snelling (8 page)

“He knew of her?”

“He knew of that Wild West Show and her father. He remembered seeing a performance up in Dickinson a few years ago, so the name Lockwood rang a bell.”

“Thought you were going to help us up at the cabin.”

“Well, I was, but then I got to thinking that Miss Lockwood is worried about having money to get through the winter, so I headed for Hill City instead.”

Mavis frowned. “Why is she so concerned about money? We have plenty of everything here, and they are welcome to whatever they need.”

“I think she has a hard time asking for what she sees as favors.” Lucas sipped his coffee. “She’s mighty independent.”

Except when it comes to taking our land.
Ransom tried to ignore the voice again. At least when he was limbing pine logs, he didn’t have to listen to it. Calling himself a sorehead did nothing to help that.

“Did you tell Miss Lockwood that you were going to do that?”

“I told her I had an idea for a shoot in our area, and she seemed amenable.”

“Always running ahead,” Ransom said. “What if she doesn’t want to do that? Now you’ve put her into a difficult situation.”

“Well, at least I’m doing something, not just grousing about her taking half our land.”

“Just another of your harebrained schemes.”

“Me? There’s nothing like a fool looking for gold when the vein quit years ago.” Lucas half stood and leaned forward. Ransom half rose too.

“All right, you two. That’s enough! I’m getting real tired of hearing arguments like this. The contract is a done deal, so let’s hear no more about it.”

The two glared at each other but subsided into their chairs. The crackling of the fire was the only sound for a bit, if one ignored the gnashing of teeth.

Ransom shook his head and pushed his empty plate away, deciding to try another tack. He looked at his mother. “I still have a hard time understanding why you never told us any of this slice of family history.” He thought for a second. “And Pa didn’t either. Never made a reference to a partnership, not that I can remember.”

“We agreed not to discuss it, at least until you boys were old enough to understand.”

“Well, I’m old enough, and I’m having trouble understanding all the secrecy. Feel like I’ve been lied to all these years when speaking of
our
ranch. The Bar E, the Engstrom spread.” He knew his voice was getting louder and pretty intense, but he didn’t try to stop the torrent.

“Ransom, I—”

“I’ve given this ranch everything I’ve got to give, and now I have to pretend to be pleased when this long-lost person shows up with deed in hand?”

“No one is asking you to pretend. I’m asking you to just accept the reality. And we’ll go on from here.”

He slammed the flat of his palm on the table. “What would Pa say?”

“What could he say? He signed the deed too.”

“Oh, I imagine he could say a lot,” Lucas said with a half shrug. “Pa was never one not to say his mind.”

“I never lied to you, Ransom.”

Let it go.
He ignored the voice. “You didn’t tell the whole truth, though. You always said that was the same as lying.”

“I apologize for making such a horrendous error. I . . . I . . . Looking back, I can see that.”

Ransom tipped his head back. This was getting them nowhere.
Maybe if I find some gold in that mine, we can buy her out and the ranch will be all ours again.
He reached out and laid his hand over his mother’s. “I’m sorry, Mor. Something good will happen. You always say that. We just have to stick together.” Guilt stabbed him at the sorrow in his mother’s eyes.

Please, God, let it be so.
Maybe after church tomorrow, he could catch the town lawyer, Daniel Westbrook, and ask him a question or two. Like his pa used to say,
“Never leave a stone unturned.”
But it looked like they were fast running out of stones.

C
assie lay in the bed she now shared with Runs Like a Deer, who was snoring softly. How she loved watching the dancing flames from the fireplace reflected on the ceiling. While she had been out working with the men, Runs Like a Deer had been stitching rabbit skins into a vest for her. And cooking supper. Cornmeal biscuits had made the simmering pot of beans and dried venison taste even better. While they were tired of beans, she’d not complained, nor had the men.

The chair from the wagon sat pulled up to the weathered old table that Mrs. Engstrom had brought them. Micah said that when the weather closed in, he’d make three more, but for now, he dragged in the same chunks of wood they’d used on the trail. Her trunk sat at the foot of the bed, and the chifforobe that had ridden all the way on top of the wagon finally had a place of its own against what she now knew to be the south wall. The front door faced east, looking across the valley. The bear rug might be missing some hair in a few places, but it was back in front of the fireplace where it used to lie, according to Mrs. Engstrom.

Did she want to go to church in the morning? That was the question keeping her from much-needed sleep. She wanted to, but what about the others? Chief had made it clear that he and Runs Like a Deer would not be welcome there. That shouldn’t be the case, but “should” and “is” were two different things. And remembering their hasty flight from town, she figured he was probably right. But if this was to be her home, she needed, wanted, to get to know the people. The Brandenburgs had been so kind and generous to them. What would it be like to be a member of the church? Of this church? What did they do besides having services on Sunday mornings?

She moved her head from side to side. By the time they had quit hauling branches, the aches of different work had started attacking her back and arms. On Chief’s recommendation, she’d used kerosene to remove the pitch from her hands, and now her hands stank of kerosene, in spite of the lye soap she’d used to get the kerosene off.

Back to the original question. Should she get dressed in the morning and drive the wagon down to the ranch house and go with the Engstroms to church? She’d been to church a few times in her life, usually during the winter months when the show remained in one place. After her mother died, her father lost interest in church, and they didn’t go again.

She should have taken a dress out of the chifforobe and hung it to let the wrinkles fall out. There wasn’t a sadiron in any of her things. She should probably purchase one, particularly if she was going to attend church regularly. She kept hearing Mrs. Brandenburg promise that if they stayed in this area, she would love to teach Cassie how to cook. Mrs. Engstrom would most likely offer too, if asked. Maybe, just maybe, she could turn this cabin into a real home.

If she could find a way to earn money to feed them and the livestock . . .

Since she couldn’t seem to get to sleep, she could have been sorting those papers again, but they were all out in the wagon, and she wasn’t going to go get them now.
So go to sleep.

Rolling over carefully so she wouldn’t disturb Runs Like a Deer, she stared at the dying fire.

Someone was rattling around. She opened her eyes to see Chief starting the fire in the stove and Runs Like a Deer braiding her hair by the again-crackling fireplace. How had he or they done all that and she had slept right through it?

“I’m thinking of going to church with the Engstroms.”

“We’ll be cutting wood.”

“We need a saw. That’s for sure.”

“Ransom said he had one we could use. I’ll ride down with you and bring it back.”

“Will you all come for dinner after church?”

He shrugged. Runs Like a Deer copied him.

“I’m sure Mrs. Engstrom will have a good meal.”

“Hard to get wood in when going there.”

“True.” Cassie reached back and released the curtain they had hung around the bed to create a separate room. Sleeping in nightclothes again had made her feel she was no longer a traveler. She belted her wrapper and padded to the chifforobe to choose clothes to wear. How she would love to have a bath, to wash her hair, and then wash the clothes she’d been wearing day after day. Choosing a dark serge skirt and a cream-colored waist, she dressed and sat down to lace up her dress boots. Brushing the snarls out of her hair took a bit of doing, but she managed and then used some of the heating water to wash her face.

Micah came in, along with Othello, and gave her an appreciative grin. “You look nice.”

“Why, thank you. I’d almost forgotten how to dress.” She smoothed the front of the skirt. The waistband was plenty loose. She’d never been the slightest bit heavy, but she’d lost weight during their long trek south. Micah didn’t have any extra fat on him either.

Chief rattled the lids on the stove back in place after feeding the fire. He set the frying pan on to heat. Runs Like a Deer cut up some of the leftover rabbit and dropped it into the pan. When it sizzled, she added eggs and stirred.

“Eggs. I can’t believe we have eggs again.”

“Thanks to Mrs. Engstrom. In the baskets of food she brought.” Runs Like a Deer glanced over her shoulder.

Cassie nodded. Good things were happening. The other woman was talking more and going ahead and cooking or sewing or tanning leather, the jobs she set for herself. While Runs Like a Deer still limped at times, her broken leg had healed straight, thanks to the weeks she’d spent with her leg strapped to a board.

“Food is ready.” Runs Like a Deer took the tin plates off the shelf and dished up their meal. Cassie sat in the chair, for they had all insisted she take the one chair, and they sat on the blocks of wood. When the meal was finished, they put their plates and utensils in the pan of soapy water on the stove.

“We’ll put the barrel in the wagon, and I will fill that too.” Chief glanced at the others. “We will go down for dinner.” It was a statement, not a question. Albeit reluctantly, Micah and Runs Like a Deer nodded. They knew a mandate when they heard it.

“Good.” Another thing conquered. She knew they’d rather not. But that would be rude. After all the Engstroms had done to help them, rude was not an option. Cassie dug through her trunk for the reticule she remembered storing there, but when she failed to find it right away, she abandoned her search. Grabbing her coat off a peg on the wall by the door, she headed outside, then returned for her hat. A wide-brimmed felt that had already seen plenty of duty was not fashionable, but that was the only hat she had. While she had brought dresses and her show outfits, she’d not thought to stuff in a hat.

Chief was already sitting up in the wagon box and waiting. She must have wasted too much time looking for her reticule, for he and Micah had already harnessed and hitched the team, and the two men had loaded the empty barrel into the wagon bed.

Like so many other things, the Engstroms were also to be thanked for the loan of this wagon. It was more a buckboard than a wagon, with dry wood and rusting springs. They said it was an old one they could spare, but to Cassie it was a blessing, for their only wheeled transportation was the show wagon they had been living in.

Micah helped her up into the wagon box and smiled her on her way. Were they treating her differently because she was dressed up? That was something to think about. But getting in the wagon had been far easier in men’s britches. Well, her britches. They’d never belonged to a man; she just bought a small size. The first time she’d donned britches, her father had raised his eyebrows, but he never said anything. Daily on the show lot, and now with all their traveling, life was far easier—and more modest too—in trousers.

“You stay here,” she told Othello when he started to follow them. She looked back to see him flop down next to Dog and stare after her. He could do sad better than many people. All they needed was for him to decide he didn’t like the Engstrom dog. They did not need a dog fight.

She gazed out across the valley as they followed the track back down the hill. When they approached the ranch house, George raised his heavy head and looked at her, then went back to grazing, the other buffalo near him. Wind Dancer nickered and trotted up to the fence. He stamped a front foot and tossed his head, obviously wishing for a run, or at least some attention.

“Tonight,” she promised him and then turned when Chief snorted. Cassie ignored him. She needed to give Wind Dancer a good brushing and get the tangles out of his mane and tail. Would she be able to use him in an exhibition type of act? They could do their routine without music or the extra props. Maybe now that they were getting settled she could take time to practice again, both the riding and the shooting.

Riding was no problem, but shooting took a lot of shells, something of which she was running short. What she had left, she needed to use for hunting. Everything always came back to the money issue. She’d never had to even think about it, and now it rode in the back of her mind like a specter waiting to pounce.

The Engstrom wagon was hitched up and waiting at the front gate. Chief stopped the wagon, and she climbed over the edge to use the wheel to step down. “Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “See you this afternoon?”

“We’ll come when we see the wagon return.” Chief started to loop the lines around the whipstock, but when Ransom stepped out on the porch, he stopped. “Can we use the saw? Need to fill the water barrel too.”

“Go on over to the pump, and I’ll bring the saw. You need anything else?”

Chief shook his head and flipped the lines to the team, turning them to head over to the windmill that ran the pump that kept the stock tank full in a corral near the barn.

Cassie looked toward the house just as Lucas and his mother came out the door.

“Good morning, Miss Lockwood,” Lucas called. “I’ll be right there to assist you.”

Mavis’s cheerful greeting made Cassie feel welcome all over again.

“I am so glad you decided to come. The others will be joining us for dinner, won’t they?”

“Chief told me they’d come down when they see the wagon returning home.”

“Good, good.” Mavis firmed her foot on a little iron step bolted into the front wagon panel, took a deep breath, and launched herself up and in. She more or less arranged herself into a space as narrow as possible, and Cassie climbed up beside her. That little iron step was sure nice.

Lucas brought his horse up. “I could drive if you’d like, Mor.”

“That’s all right. Ransom will do just fine. Three of us can fit on this seat.”

“I can sit in the back.”

“No, we’ll let Gretchen sit in the back on the way home.” While they waited for Ransom, Mavis patted Cassie’s arm. “I am truly glad that you are going to become part of our congregation. You met the Brandenburgs, right?”

“Reverend Brandenburg let us set up camp by the church, and then they invited us all for supper. We put the animals in their corrals with water, and he even pitched in hay. He was so nice. Then they sent us home with eggs and potatoes from their garden, and the next morning he brought us a loaf of fresh bread.”

“Why did you not stay there longer?”

“A crowd gathered, and a couple of men from the back of the group started in about not wanting Indians in Argus. So we thought to stave off any problems, we’d better leave town. I was afraid they might follow us, but they didn’t.”

Mavis fell silent, suddenly grim.

Had Cassie said something wrong? The only way to know was to ask, so it wouldn’t happen again. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing. It’s not you. I’m pretty sure I know who that man was. He is a constant troublemaker, a worthless man who leads his cronies into trouble with him. I know I shouldn’t say that, but if there are problems of any kind, there is where it starts.” She smiled. “I’m sure that is really not the feeling of the rest of the town.”

Cassie smiled. “The rest of the town probably thinks we are Gypsies. I put Wind Dancer through a couple of his flashier tricks, and that made the children happy. But then some woman muttered something about Gypsies and hustled her children away. There was a little girl there who had a lisp. She was so sweet.”