The Coming Storm (15 page)

By the time Dianne could think reasonably again, the procedure was over and she was calmly handing bandages to Dr Bufford.

“Now what?” she finally forced herself to ask.

“Now we wait,” Bufford replied. “We wait and see if he has the strength to pull through. My guess is that he’ll be gone by morning.”

Dianne hated the finality of his words. How could he so calmly dismiss her uncle’s chances at life? She looked to the doorway where Koko stood watching. She’d been obedient to keep clear of the doctor’s way.

“Can we move him back to his bed now?” Dianne asked, turning away from her aunt.

“By all means. Make him as comfortable as possible.”

The cowboys were summoned again, and Bram was moved to the makeshift bedroom in the front parlor. Dianne’s back ached and she stretched, suddenly realizing her apron was stained with blood. Uncle Bram’s blood.

She felt weak-kneed.
Lord,
she prayed,
we need a miracle. We need your healing touch on my uncle. Oh, God, we all need him so much. Please help us—please don’t take him
.

Dianne hastened to clean up the room and herself. She peeled off the blood-stained apron only to realize blood had soaked through to her dress. She quickly found a clean apron and pulled it on to hide the stains lest they upset her aunt.

Working quickly, Dianne managed to take care of most of the mess before Koko entered the room.

“I hate having that man in our home,” Koko said while Bufford was outside cleaning up. Dianne knew, because of the lateness of the hour and the fact that Bram would most likely need further care, they would have to offer him a place to stay for the night.

“I know,” she whispered, trying to offer Koko a sympathetic tone, “but we’ll have to give him a room.”

Koko’s expression hardened. “Let him sleep in the barn.”

Dianne reached out to touch her aunt. “I would, but we both know he needs to be close to Bram.”

“His heart is foul—filled with hate.”

Dianne knew the truth of Koko’s words. “Still, he’s all Uncle Bram has this side of the Lord. We can’t possibly know how to best help him. We could never have removed that leg on our own. Maybe God brought him here for the purpose of teaching him about tolerance.”

“I’ve seen many tolerant men who still have no love—no compassion in their hearts.” Koko moved away and picked up the last of the bloody linens. “Dr. Bufford is a man whose past has given him a black spirit. He wouldn’t have helped Bram had it not been for you. If I’d gone after his help, he would have let my husband die.”

“Perhaps,” Dianne replied, knowing her aunt was probably right. “But the important thing is that he did come and he didn’t just let him die. Maybe God will soften his heart as he sees how much love we share here in our home.”

Koko nodded but said nothing more. Her expression made it clear to Dianne that she found the idea hard to believe. In truth, Dianne knew that men who held as much contempt for others as Dr. Bufford seemed to were not easily persuaded.

Dianne heard Jamie’s cries before she saw Faith appear in the kitchen, carrying the boy. “I want to see Papa.” Dianne hurried to wash her hands, making sure there was no blood visible to frighten the child.

“I couldn’t calm him,” Faith announced.

Koko went to her son and took him in her arms. “Did you catch a bear while you were gone?”

Jamie shook his head. His large dark eyes seemed to widen at the question. “No bears. No bears here.”

Koko nodded. “Good. We don’t want any more bears.”

“Want Papa,” the boy insisted.

Koko walked with her son to the front parlor. Dianne followed quietly behind, hoping she might offer some solace. “Your papa is sleeping, Jamie. He’s very tired.”

“Papa hurt.” Jamie pointed to where his father slept.

“Yes,” Koko said softly. “Papa is hurt.”

“Wake up, Papa. Wake up,” Jamie called. He looked to his mother. “He sleeping.”

Koko bit her lower lip as tears filled her eyes. Dianne wished she might offer comfort to them both. “Yes, he is sleeping, Jamie And sleep will help him feel better.”

“We play later?” Jamie asked.

Dianne looked at her unconscious uncle and remembered the doctor’s negative prognosis. “Maybe,” she finally whispered. “Right now we need to pray for your papa and ask God to make him well so that he can play with you soon.”

Jamie put his pudgy hands together. “I pray. I pray good. Thank you, God, for the food.”

Dianne smiled and even Koko seemed to brighten at this. She tousled her son’s hair, then handed him to Dianne. “Why don’t you go pray with Jamie while I take care of things here.”

Dianne nodded and pulled Jamie into her arms. “So what else should we tell God?” she asked as they walked back to the kitchen, where Faith waited.

Jamie looked into her eyes with such wonder and hope. “Make Papa not sick.”

Dianne drew in a deep breath and caught Faith’s loving gaze. “Yes,” Dianne said. “Make him not sick anymore.”

Dianne felt that she’d barely drifted off to sleep when Koko roused her. “Come quickly. Bram is dying.”

For a moment, Dianne couldn’t remember what had happened.
What does she mean, Bram is dying? Why should he—
Then the memories returned. Dianne shot straight up. “I’ll be right there.” She slipped from the bed and pulled on her heavy robe.

Why, Lord? Why must he die?
She’d already reconciled herself to the fact that her uncle would never lead the same productive, active life. She’d even acknowledged that he’d be depressed at the loss of his leg—maybe even angry. But at least she had hoped he’d be alive to enjoy his son and daughter. She could easily help with the ranch, even hire more men to work in Bram’s place, but she could never take his place in the hearts of his wife and children.

“Please, God,” she whispered as she hurried to the parlor “Please help us now. Please let Uncle Bram make it through this dark hour.”

She entered the parlor as Koko knelt down beside the bed “I’ve sent for the doctor, but I know he won’t be able to help.”

“Nonsense. You don’t know that. He might have some way of making things better,” Dianne encouraged.

“No,” Koko said sadly. “He’s not going to live, Dianne. You must tell him good-bye.”

Dianne looked at her aunt for a moment. The woman wasn’t all that much older than she was, only eight years senior to Dianne’s twenty-three years. How could she possibly know this was the end of Bram’s life?

“Koko?”

“His breathing is shallow. He’s losing this battle, Dianne. We have to let him go.” Koko was surprising calm. She lovingly stroked her husband’s hand. “We can’t keep him—he wants to go.”

Dianne sat down beside her uncle’s bed and drew his hand to her lips. “I love him so much. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”

Koko nodded. “I don’t want to say good-bye either, but it’s best this way. He never would have been happy without his leg He would have withered and died a slow death if he recovered. He would have grown bitter . . . sad. We wouldn’t want him that way.”

Dianne felt tears slip down her cheeks. The droplets fell upon her uncle’s hand. “Oh, Uncle Bram, I love you. You gave me hope when I had nothing left. You helped me to learn about my new life here in Montana. You gave me a home and loved me.” Thoughts of Cole flickered through Dianne’s thoughts. How she wished he were here to comfort her and help her endure this bleak moment.

Dianne kissed her uncle’s still hand again. “I don’t want to let you go, but I know God loves you more than even I do. I can give you to Him. I can let you go—as long as I know it’s to Him you go.”

Dr. Bufford came sleepily into the room. “So he’s passing?” Dianne let go of her uncle and got to her feet. “Can you save him?”

The doctor went to the bed, listened to Bram’s heart, checked his breathing, and shook his head. “The night’s always worse, but this night will be his last. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

Dianne nodded. “We’ll let you have a few moments alone,” she said to Koko. Her aunt said nothing.

“Please come with me, Dr. Bufford. I’d imagine there’s still some coffee on the stove.”

“No thank you,” the man said through a yawn. “I’ve done all that I can. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.” He moved without any suggestion of emotion or further interest.

Dianne watched him disappear and shook her head. A man was dying, and the only doctor within twenty miles had absolutely no consideration for the loss this family was about to endure.

Bufford stopped at the door. “I know you believe me to lack compassion.” He turned and his icy blue-eyed gaze seemed to pierce through to her soul. “And perhaps I do. I saw a lot of men die on the battlefield—a lot of good men who died for senseless reasons. Waste makes me angry and steals away any compassion that I might otherwise exude. Your uncle’s death is a tremendous waste—another good man’s life is forfeited. I’m sorry for your loss, but I have no desire to make myself a part of it.”

He left with that, and his words echoed in Dianne’s head. How very calm and collected he was, she thought. He managed 8 to systematically put aside his emotion and turn aside his feelings.

I wish I could do that so easily
. Dianne shook her head. No, she didn’t really want that. She didn’t want to stop feeling or having consideration for those around her. Not when the reasoning was the mere protection of her own heart.

Waiting as long as she could, Dianne slowly made her way back to the parlor.

“Oh, my heart. My love,” Koko whispered.

Dianne paused in the doorway and sighed. She could remember Uncle Bram urging her to promise to take care of Koko and the children. The world would never understand the love this family held for one another. Color would blind them— intolerance would leave them without feeling for Koko and her children’s loss.

Bram drew a few shallow, ragged breaths, and then silence filled the room. It seemed so sudden—so final. Dianne waited, wondering if he might yet find the strength to go on, but there was no other sound from the loving giant of a man.

Koko lay across her husband and sobbed softly. He was gone. Just like that—her uncle’s life had ended.

Walking from the room, Dianne made her way outside. The stars overhead offered brilliant beacons of light. The night greeted her in absolute stillness. Looking back at the ranch house—the dream of her uncle, not yet completed—Dianne suddenly realized that all she could see now belonged to her.

“I want to make certain my family is provided for, and you are the only way to ensure that,”
Bram had told her long ago. He had explained that Indians couldn’t be landowners, so he couldn’t will the ranch to Koko. He had petitioned Dianne to take on the ranch and make a home for his family for as long as they needed one. She had agreed, and now the realization of such a matter coming full circle was almost more than she could comprehend. The Diamond V belonged to her—every horse, every building, the entire herd. They were hers. No one could challenge her if she decided to up and sell the entire thing. No one could stand in her way should she decide to put an end to the cattle business and take up farming. It was all up to her now.

Dianne trembled from the very thought of such responsibility. When she’d agreed to this arrangement, she’d never believed it would ever occur. Bram was supposed to live for a long, long time. He was supposed to be here with them—to raise his children— to teach Jamie how to hunt and fish and ranch.

Now Jamie would grow up without a father. No one would be there for him in the same way that Bram would have been. She knew what it was to lose a father—knew the pain and empty place it made in your heart.

“But I was sixteen,” she murmured. “I was old enough to understand that accidents happen. I have my memories of Papa, and no one can take those from me.”

Would Jamie remember anything about his father? Would he recall the way his father put him atop his shoulders so the little boy could be a giant? Would Jamie have memories of his father wrestling with him in front of the fire, tickling him and tossing him high in the air as they played?

“It’s not fair,” she whispered, knowing there was no one to hear. No one but God, and at this moment Dianne wondered seriously if He might be sleeping.

CHAPTER 12

D
IANNE RODE ALONG THE WESTERN PERIMETER OF THE
ranch, still unable to believe that Bram was truly gone. She thought of all the losses in her life, Cole included, for she had no idea when he might return—or if. Now her uncle’s funeral loomed and nothing seemed right.

It was hard to remember those who’d gone before her. When she’d been a little girl and her grandparents had died, she had felt the loss deeply, but nothing compared to the loss of her father, sisters, and mother. She couldn’t even be sure Trenton, her oldest brother, was still alive. She hadn’t heard from him in a long, long while.

Dianne had ridden Dolly to the top of the hill overlooking the main part of the ranch. There were two large barns, a small cabin used for supplies, several lean-tos, a blacksmith shop and cabin for Malachi and Faith, the bunkhouse, multiple corrals and pens, the old cabin home, and the partially finished dream house Bram had started earlier in the year.