Lauraine Snelling (27 page)

She had to get ready for the shoot. She
had
to! That was the only way.

Two days later, after the others returned from church, Cassie winced when the stitches came out, but she could make a fist without too much pain. She had bent her arm now and again, drawing her hand to her shoulder. But not too often. No longer light-headed, she walked out to visit with Wind Dancer and George, taking them both carrots.

“Been awhile, hasn’t it?” She stood between them as she had so often, rubbing their ears and noses. They each munched their carrot and nosed for more. “Sorry. The carrots are needed for food. When I plant a garden, I’ll plant a long row just for the two of you. Or we might have to find something else you like. I’ll ask if I can bring you some oats.”

Buying a bag of oats, like a bag of beans, was beyond her means.

She brushed Wind Dancer with the brush held in her left hand. Two short swipes with her right were all she could manage. When she finished, they followed her back up to the fence by the barn. Lucas was there; he’d been watching. He took the brush.

“It’s hard to believe that big old buffalo stood there with you like that. But I saw it happen, so I have to believe it.”

“I bottle-fed him and raised him. I wouldn’t expect him to treat anyone else that way. He’s used to Micah and Chief too, but they don’t handle him.”

When Lucas took a step closer, George snorted and raised his head. “I hear you, big boy.” He chuckled, stepped back, and shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust him within a twenty-foot pole.”

“You are smart. George has chased more than one person out of his corral.” She patted both her friends and waved them off to the pasture.

“How’s the arm?”

“Better.”
But not better enough. Why couldn’t my left arm be the one that was shot?

That night she sat with Mavis by the fireplace. “I really need to get back to the cabin with the others.”

“I hate to see you go. Have you talked with the others yet? About using the bunkhouse?”

“No. And maybe they have other ideas. I’m thinking to ride up there tomorrow.”

“On Wind Dancer or by wagon?”

“Wind Dancer. I know I can’t saddle him yet, but I’ve ridden bareback for years with him. I used to ride him without a saddle or bridle. It surprised a lot of folks to see us walking outside the corrals, but those in the show took it as part of life there.”

“What if I invited them all down here for supper tomorrow night? We could talk then.”

“Thanks, but I think they’ll talk with me better alone.” As if they ever talked a lot. But if they never talked with outsiders, who would know or care about them sharing the cabin? It wasn’t like they had neighbors next door.

But she remembered how gossip spread through the show crowd. A town like Argus might be just like that, even though they did not live in town. When she brought that up with Mavis, she only said, “Think on those three men who saw the wagon burn. Rumors have started with far less.”

Would those ignorant haters and liars never quit deviling them?

The next day Cassie climbed up on the rails of the corral and mounted Wind Dancer. She had put a bridle on him just to be careful, and she was wearing her britches again so she could ride easily. It felt like forever since she’d wrapped her legs around warm horseflesh and felt his muscles moving beneath her. With the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, she loped across the valley. Micah saw her coming and came down to open the gate, smiling up at her.

“Good.”

“It sure is good. Is Chief up at the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want a ride up?”

“No, I’ll walk.”

When they crested the rise to the level stretch where the cabin stood, she saw what had been the pile of split wood stacked all along the north wall. Posts had been set for a new wall that would be a lean-to, once for the wagon but now for the wood and a shelter for a couple of horses. “You’ve been working hard,” she said to Micah, coming up beside her.

“Lucas and Ransom helped. Tomorrow we plan to add the roof poles. If the weather holds, we can get the roof on. The slabs cut from the pine trees will finish the sides.”

The wagon wheels leaned against the cabin walls. All that was left of the fancy wagon, the one she’d lived in with her father and mother, the one that had carried them to the valley. She swallowed hard. The wagon was not worth crying about, and crying would not bring back any of the things in it. She sniffed and blinked and slid off her horse. At least she still had her memories, and now they were more important to her than ever. Was that why God gave them memories, as both a comfort and a challenge? She leaned against Wind Dancer, letting his warmth and the rich horse fragrance bring back all kinds of memories, a kaleidoscope of wealth.

Finally, feeling immensely comforted, she stepped back. “You go try out your almost stall,” she said to him as she slipped off his bridle. “There’s plenty to graze on here, so don’t go away.”

Pushing open the cabin door, she stepped inside. “Hey, I’m back, for a while at least.”

Chief and Runs Like a Deer both smiled and nodded. Chief held up his coffee cup in question.

“No, I don’t think so. You’ve sure gotten a lot done around here.” She turned when Micah came in the door. “Mavis says for you to come down and get some of the pork. I could have carried some up, but she has other things for you too.”

“I’ll go down tomorrow.”

“Any word from the sheriff?” Chief asked.

Cassie shook her head, flexing and stretching her fingers, a habit she’d grown into. Might as well get it over with. “Thanks to those worthless pieces of humanity, Mavis is concerned about the four of us living up here in the cabin, that rumors will fly and our lives will be harassed. So we need to talk about what to do. The Engstroms have offered either the men or the women the bunkhouse.”

Micah shook his head. “You two cannot stay up here by yourselves. Look how those three got through.”

“But that was a deliberate thing by cruel men. Why would we think that would happen again?”

“Better safe than sorry.” Micah seemed to have taken on the job of spokesman.

“Runs Like a Deer, what do you say?”

“White people have different rules than Indians.”

“Especially white women,” Chief added.

“You mean me?”

“No, fancy white women.”

For some strange reason, his comment made her feel a tiny bit better. She knew what he meant and she was grateful not to be included in the “fancy white women” category.

“We have talked about this.” Micah pulled out a bench at the table, another new thing in the cabin. “I will marry Runs Like a Deer.” He smiled at the woman setting the coffee cup in front of him. When she laid her hand on his shoulder in passing, Cassie felt the smile welling up from someplace deep within. Such good news to counterbalance the sad that tried so hard to take over.

“And I will return to the reservation.” Chief never looked at her. “We need to finish the lean-to first. You stay at the ranch house for now. Or the bunkhouse.”

But—”she stared from Runs Like a Deer to Micah—“but that is wonderful news. I hoped this could happen when I saw you together.” She turned to Chief, the other side of this news that flipped and spun like the aspen leaves when they left the tree. “But I thought you didn’t want to go back.”

“This is best.”

She struggled to keep from crying yet again. “You know you will always have a home here, if you want to come back.” Another part of her life ripped away. Comforted one minute and bleeding the next.

“I know.”

“But you won’t leave without telling me.”

He nodded.

“Then I guess I will get some of my things. When will you get married and how?”

“We’ll ask Pastor Brandenburg. Or you could.”

A short time later Cassie and her bag of clothing, along with her mother’s Bible, rode back down the hill. What another strange turn her life had taken.
But much as I love these people, I don’t want to stay at the ranch house. I want my cabin back.

W
hen would the pain go away?

“Cassie, dear, please don’t overdo. You’ll keep it from healing if you’re not careful.”

“But I have to be ready for the match.”
That’s all there is to it. It’s my chance to earn some money
. Even if Chief left, she still hoped he’d change his mind. There were three of them with the same needs she thought of so often. So far the weather had stayed cold, but the snow was holding off, allowing them to get more done in preparation for the winter.

She’d ridden back up the hill again yesterday, needing to ride, to see her friends, both two-footed and four.

Othello had been in his element, running beside her, then leaping on the horse’s rump so he could snuggle his nose under her armpit. George had galloped along with her and Wind Dancer for a short distance, making her dream of a Wild West show act again. The big bull could scare the strongest man, but here he was running with her and Wind Dancer just like they’d been doing for years. Three friends, three close friends.

The men had brought down the remainder of the hardwood trees felled higher on the hill, ready for them to start up the sawmill again. The supports for the roof of the lean-to addition to the cabin were in place, and Runs Like a Deer was using a froe to split cedar butts into shakes for the roof. With her weakened arm, Cassie couldn’t even offer to help. How disgusting.

“You want coffee?” Runs Like a Deer asked.

“No thanks. Where are the men?”

“Micah is bringing down another dead tree to cut for firewood. Chief is hunting.”

Cassie looked at the cabin wall where Chief had nailed the rabbit hides that Runs Like a Deer was turning into warm clothes for them all. An elk hide took up a large chunk of the wall, a deer hide another.

They seemed to be doing fine without her. “Well, I better get back. Lucas set up some targets for me.” While she’d been working on strengthening her arm, earlier she had lifted her rifle with her right hand for the first time. That’s when Mavis reminded her to be easy on the arm.

“Do you need anything?”

Runs Like a Deer slammed the froe into the cedar stump, and another shake fell to the ground. “No, we are good.”

“See you tomorrow,” Cassie said. “Oh, I nearly forgot. We are invited to Thanksgiving dinner. And yes, you all have to come. This is special.”

Leaving those instructions, she rode back down the hill. But her shooting practice proved short. After three shots, her arm had refused to hold the gun up long enough for her to pull the trigger.

Cassie woke on Thanksgiving morning when the house was still. With no idea of the time, she threw her covers back and, stepping into slippers, crept out to the kitchen. The stove was still emitting some warmth, so perhaps she’d not been asleep as long as she thought. Should she start the stove and begin breakfast? The clock in the big room bonged, and she counted four strokes. Four o’clock—too soon to make noise to wake up the others. She crept back to her room and into bed.

After flipping from side to side and flopping on her back again, she fumbled for the matches and lit her lamp. The light sparkled on the frosted window, letting her know the room was so cold that the frost had painted patterns on the inside too. Snuggling down further under the quilts, she opened the Bible that used to be her mother’s and turned to the Psalms. Mavis said she always found comfort and wisdom in the Psalms.

Over and over she read,
Praise the Lord. Praise His holy name.
Not always in those exact words but meaning the same. That’s what this day was all about. She thought of picking up pencil and paper to make a list of the things she was grateful for but stayed in her warm cocoon instead and kept on reading.

Sometime later she realized she’d been hearing morning noises in the kitchen, so she got up, belted her warm robe, and with slippers on her feet again, walked into the kitchen to find Mavis starting the stove.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said with a wide smile.

Cassie caught back a yawn. “Yes, happy Thanksgiving. What would you like me to do first?”

“You start the oatmeal, and I’ll slice the ham. Ransom brought one in from the smokehouse last night. I think we’ll scramble the eggs. Once the oatmeal is going, please go down to the cellar and bring up some of that raspberry syrup and a couple jars of string beans. I need to get the geese into the oven by about eight if we plan dinner for noon. After I slice the ham, I’ll get to the stuffing and you finish up the breakfast. We’ll let Gretchen sleep in for a little while yet.”

The morning flew by as the house grew rich with delicious smells emanating from the oven and the pots cooking on the stove, all overlaid with a coffee aroma. The men finished the outside chores and gathered in the big room, where the women joined them for a while, taking turns jumping up to go baste the geese.

Runs Like a Deer, Micah, and Chief joined them a few minutes before they put the dinner on the table. When they all were seated, Dan Arnett spoke up. “We had a tradition at our house that the youngest and the oldest would each say grace.” He smiled at Gretchen. “That okay?”

“Sure, and here we always go around the table and say something we are thankful for. But that lets the food get cold, so now we do that at the end of dinner.”

“I’ll go first, then.” Arnett bowed his head and waited for quiet to fall on the gathering. “Lord God, today I’m so full of gratitude I don’t think I even have room for this wonderful dinner. So thank you for the food and this family who have taken me in and made me part of them. Thank you for the hands that prepared this all. Amen.”

Gretchen cleared her throat. “Thank you, God, for all of us and our home and my family. And that there is no school today and tomorrow. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Lucas leaned over and tugged on her braid. “That was a good prayer. And you didn’t even have to milk this morning.”

Cassie swallowed a lump in her throat. Her mother used to love Thanksgiving and made sure everyone in the show received something special. This was her first holiday away from the show and the folks she knew and loved. How were they all doing today? Did any of them miss her? She looked down to keep the others from seeing her wipe away a tear.

Ransom picked up the big knife at his place and sliced into the crisply browned skin of the stuffed goose on the platter before him. As the plates were passed to him, he laid slices of meat on them, digging out the stuffing at the same time.

The others passed the bowls and platters around, and for a bit the only noises were the ring of silverware on the plates and the appreciative murmurs of the eaters.

When they all had eaten their fill and Mavis quit asking if anyone wanted more, Ransom pushed his chair back. “Let’s go around the table now, so everyone can say their piece.”

After they each had spoken, Ransom nodded. “It has been a good year. You are right, Gretchen. Now, I think we should wait awhile longer for dessert. But coffee in the big room, Mor?”

“Yes. You men go on, and once we put things away, we’ll bring it in.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Chief, I have a favor to ask,” Lucas said when they were all gathered in the big room.

Chief nodded.

“Would you please tell us more about the night Mr. Lockwood won half the Wild West Show? I mean, like what happened after that?”

Chief narrowed his eyes, as if looking back in time. “Lockwood tried to tell Talbot that he didn’t want half of the show. He had all he could do with the work he already had.”

Ransom got up and tossed another log on the fire. “So what happened then?”

“Talbot got real insistent. Said he had been looking for a partner, and this looked good to him.

“Then Lockwood said, ‘But I don’t know anything about running a Wild West show.’

“Talbot wasn’t giving up. He said, ‘I hear you’re a pretty good shot. What if you were to make up a shooting demonstration? You ever thought of trick riding? You get good enough and you could be the star of the show.’ Talbot leaned closer to Lockwood. ‘Just think, we could take our show all over the United States, maybe even to Europe.’

“Talbot looked over at me. I was standing against the wall, waiting to see how this was going to end. Pointing at me, he said, ‘Maybe we could even hire some of
his
people. You have no idea how the folks back east get all excited about seeing Indians riding around and whooping it up.’

“Lockwood asked, ‘How many people in your show now?’

“‘We’re pretty small,’ Talbot said. ‘Thirty people or so. Got a couple of buffalo, some longhorn cattle. A real fancy wagon, like the Gypsies have, and a fine team to pull it.’

“Lockwood asked if he had a tent.

“Talbot explained that they did the show out in the open, but they had a cook tent and smaller tents for the members to stay in. He said it looks like an army encampment when they’re all set up. He told Lockwood he could give it a try, and if he didn’t like it at the end of a year or two, maybe Talbot could buy him out, and he could come back here. He said, ‘You would have made some money to buy stock and things for your ranch.’”

“Ivar Engstrom had been quiet so far, but finally he spoke up. ‘You’re not really going to do such a harebrained thing, are you, Adam?’ He leaned forward and grabbed Adam’s arm. ‘Just let Talbot have it. We got plenty to do here.’

“I could see Adam was considering it ’cause he said to Ivar, ‘But think, if I could get money to buy that herd we talked about and to build a barn and—’

“Ivar cut him off. ‘We’ll get those things without you going off like this. Just take a bit longer is all.’

“Then Lockwood leaned back in his chair and said, ‘We can’t work the mine, so there’s no money there.’

“At that Ivar pushed his chair back and stood. I could tell he was some riled. But three days later we climbed on that train with ten Indians from the reservation, and we joined up with Talbot’s show in Pierre.”

“And that was it?” Lucas looked at his mother. “You knew them all. Right?”

Mavis nodded. “We’d been friends for a year or so. Ivar didn’t talk about it for months because he said it made him so angry. He holed up at the ranch, and I didn’t see him for several weeks. Then he came to town and asked me to marry him. After some thinking about it, I said yes.”

Cassie sat back in her chair, trying to put it all together. She stared down at her mother’s opal ring that she had found in the wagon early on the trip south. “But I thought . . .” She paused and sat still for a long moment. “My father loved the Wild West Show, and the years that he was running it, Talbot did the front work and my father worked on new acts, not only for his and my mother’s, but those for other members of the cast too. But he dreamed and talked about this ranch, that someday . . .” She lifted her head. “Someday never came for him.”

“On that note, I think it is time for pumpkin pie. I’ll whip the cream.” Mavis stood. “Lucas, you come get the coffeepot and make sure all the cups are full.”

Cassie followed her out.

“You know one thing that would have made today absolutely perfect?” Mavis stopped with a faraway look on her face.

“What?”

“If Jesse could have been here. Maybe he’ll make it for Christmas. He said he would try. Three years since he’s been home.” She shook her head, as if the memory were too heavy. “That’s too long.”

Cassie wished she could do something besides just nod. She’d heard the letters read to the family. Gretchen missed her brother too. Perhaps Ransom and Lucas did, but they never mentioned it. She didn’t have a response for Mavis, so she simply said, “I’ll cut the pie.”