Lauraine Snelling (7 page)

Mavis studied the letter. What a shame that Jesse must learn of this secret through the mail. But she was not making that mistake again. No more secrets. While she was sure her boys would forgive her eventually, not telling them years earlier was certainly an unwise course of action. But it had seemed right at the time.

Recently a young woman, Cassie Lockwood, showed up at our house with the other copy of the deed, matching the one I have always kept in a box on my shelf. Ransom and Lucas were incensed but are growing in acceptance. There are no alternatives, since she cannot buy us out, and we cannot buy her out. She and her companions are living up in the cabin, and all is working well, as only events orchestrated by our God can do. Lucas decided before even meeting her that she was the woman of his dreams and said he was going to marry her.

Other than that, all is well. The men have sawed braces for the mine and plan to work up there this winter. Gretchen is doing well in school and idolizes Cassie as the big sister she never had.

We send you all our love, and if Cassie can find a shooting match—I did not mention that she was a star trick rider and shooter in the Wild West Show, taking after her mother and father—in Denver, we will be able to come visit you. Wouldn’t that be marvelous?

Your Mor

Laying down the pen, Mavis reread the letter, shook her head, and folded it to put in the envelope. Why was it that she missed Jesse more when she received a letter from him than at any other time? But then, she had always known he would not stay on the ranch like the rest of them.

S
o here she sat on her horse in the yard of her first real home. What a strange turn of events. Two months ago she could not have imagined any of this, and today she was gazing on a cabin her father had built and lived in, the place where now she would live.

Lucas was studying her. “Not much of a home, I’m afraid.”

Cassie smiled. “It’s beautiful. It doesn’t have wheels.”

He laughed out loud, the first good belly laugh she had ever heard from any of the Engstroms.

“Where did they get the wood to build this?”

“They took out the trees right here, and trimmed and sawed them to length. They split cedar for the shakes on the roof and used rock from higher up the hill for the fireplace. There’s a cast-iron stove in there now—it’s easier to cook on. Ransom remembered the shakes, so we’ll patch the roof. But just about everything you see here is the way it was a generation ago.” He swung off his horse and dropped the reins.

“What do I tie my horse to?”

“The wagon wheels will be fine, but I brought along hobbles so they can graze. They’ll clean up the long grass around the house.” He added as if he’d just thought of it, “Most horses around here ground tie. That means you drop the reins and they stay put. But we can build you a hitching rail to use until you get them trained.”

“I have good memories of living here,” Mrs. Engstrom said, joining them beside the wagon wheel.

Cassie swung down. “You lived here too?”

“Oh yes. Ivar and I lived here the first two years we were married, while we were building the house. We moved into the ranch house almost before it was done, because by then we had Ransom. The next year Ivar and some of the neighbors built the barn.” She pulled a bucket out of the wagon, along with a broom and mop, and headed for the door. “We would get water from a pipe that came down from the stream that used to run from up the hill, but that dried up after we had moved to the big house. I’m afraid you’re going to have to haul water in barrels for a while.”

She set her bucket down to open the door. When it stuck, she turned and slammed her shoulder against the wood. With a squeal, it opened slowly, in jerks. “We’ll need to work on the door too, I guess. Come on. Let’s get at it.”

Micah tied his horse to the other wheel and followed the instructions to take things out of the wagon bed and haul them inside. Runs Like a Deer did the same while Chief unhitched the team and hobbled them. After unsaddling the other horses, including Wind Dancer, he hobbled them to let them graze.

Carrying a wooden crate from the wagon bed, Cassie followed the others into the dimness of the cabin. She set her load down and took time to look around. A single big room with a bed built into one corner, a window on the wall opposite from the fireplace, cupboards and shelves on the other side of the fireplace, along with a black iron stove larger than the one in the wagon but not by a whole lot. There was an odd dry smell to the place—not exactly musty but softly whispering of age and neglect. So this was to be her first home that did not move.

“I know it looks pretty primitive, but you will be warm and dry. We brought a table along and a rocking chair, one of two that Ivar built for me. The ropes on that bed are going to have to be restrung, but you’ll find it comfortable. I have some extra quilts and a feather bed we can put on it. You do have cooking things and so on in the wagon, right?”

“We have all we’ll need, I’m sure. I . . . I mean, this looks huge after living in the wagon.”

“Well, good to know the place will be loved again. Ransom, why don’t you and Lucas go up on the roof and take care of those missing shakes. Chief, if you and Micah want to see about the wood supply, I think there are some fallen trees a little way up the hill. You could drag them down here. There used to be a bucksaw stand hanging on the wall behind the cabin. We women will clean the inside. Let’s get a fire going to heat the water that’s in the barrel.”

She opened the lids on the iron stove. “A bit rusty, but steel wool will take care of that. Cassie, please bring in that wood we brought. I put kindling in the wagon too.” She grabbed the wire handle on a black pot from one of the boxes and handed that to Runs Like a Deer. “We’ll use this to carry and heat the water.”

With the fire going and the water heating on the stove, Mavis handed Cassie the broom. “You need to sweep the ceiling first and then the walls. We’ll start on the cupboards and shelves. We’ve had mice in here. No doubt we still do. We can catch one of the cats down at the barn, or maybe two so they’ll stay together, to live here and get rid of the mice for you.”

Cassie took the broom and started sweeping the ceiling. “Why is there a ladder on the wall?”

“Oh, we used to use the upstairs for storage. It’s not really high enough to stand in except in the middle, but Ivar laid boards over the rafters so we could store supplies up there. He used to go out trapping some in winter, and once the skins were dry, he’d keep them up there until he had enough to sell.”

Dust and cobwebs ran before Cassie’s attacking broom. She sneezed at the dust but kept on. This was actually not work at all; it was too much fun. She finished the ceiling and started on the walls. By the time she’d completed her task, the two other women had swept and washed down the cupboards and counter, the smell of lye soap permeating the air.

Cassie listened for a moment to the men up on the roof, boots rattling the shakes, the hammers ringing loud every once in a while. She heard an ax thunking too, so Chief must have returned with the dry wood.

When Mavis called a halt for dinner, they took their sandwiches outside to enjoy the sunshine.

“You can see forever from here,” Cassie said, sitting on the wagon tailgate, her feet swinging as she chewed. Before her, nearly the whole valley spread out in graceful curving lines stitched with trees. Browns and yellows and greens and the clear blue of a cloudless sky. How lush it all was, with even the brown patches a rich, vibrant brown. The country might be dying of autumn, but it was still full of life.

Mavis nodded. “I know. That was one of the things I really missed when we moved down into the big house. I had a bench by the wall, right over there, and I’d bring my coffee cup out here to watch the men fencing down below or the cattle grazing. We didn’t have many then. Deer used to browse in the field over there. Those trees have taken over much of what used to be my garden plot. But we can rip them out.”

“You had a garden up here?”

“Of course I did. So should you, come spring. Plowing up my garden space was one of the first things Ivar did that first spring. He’d plowed it once in the fall to break up the sod. We didn’t put any fields into grain then, just pastured it all and raised hay. I remember the haystacks. He built fences around the stacks and let the cattle go through one stack at a time so they didn’t waste any. He was a really good rancher.”

“That was all after my father left?”

“Yes. As you know, we weren’t married yet when the two of them built this cabin to live in as they worked the mine. They bought and paid for the land with the gold they found and were digging deeper, because they figured the vein hadn’t actually quit, it had just shifted or something. That’s when the mine collapsed. It is thanks to John Birdwing—your Chief—that both of them made it out.”

“Were they injured?”

“Not much. Cuts and bruises. But had John not been there to dig them out, no one would have ever known what happened to them.”

Cassie looked over at Chief, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, along with Micah and the two young men. Why would he never tell any of the stories of their early days?

“John, do you remember the bear that kept visiting the cabin?”

Chief nodded. “Nailed his hide to the back wall.”

“The bear kept showing up, and one time when they all came home, the bear had broken into the cabin and raided their food supplies. I guess they went after the bear and shot him, and we used that hide on the floor as a rug until a few years ago, when it was looking pretty ratty. I still have it up in the attic at the house. That is, unless the mice have gotten into it.”

Chief pulled a thong from under his shirt and held it out. There were three long claws on the thong. “From that bear. Sold the rest.”

Mavis turned to Cassie. “Would you like that bear rug to lay in front of the fireplace here again?”

She nodded, a smile spreading wide. “I would. What do you think, Runs Like a Deer?”

Nodding, the woman drank her coffee and tossed the dregs off to the side. They all rose and stretched.

“Back to it.” Mavis turned to look at the cabin. “Ransom, I’ve been thinking.”

Cassie hid a grin at his groan.

“You know the slab wood you’ll have from the pine trees—what if we built a shelter for the wagon right beside the cabin there and made it big enough for a couple of horses. That way they could keep at least two up here to use to catch the others.”

“If we ever get to use that sawmill.”

Micah looked to Ransom. “I will help you, if you want. Chief too.”

Ransom stopped in midstride. “We can use all the help we can get. Thank you.” He paused. “Can’t pay you, though.”

Micah stared at him. “You already have.”

Chief waved up the hill. “Can we hunt up there?”

“Of course. We have deer and elk, lots of rabbits and squirrels, wolves, coyote. I’m sure you’ll hear grouse and plenty of other critters. You’re right on the edge of the wild country up here.”

“Good.”

Lucas punched his brother on the shoulder. “We’ll get your posts sawed yet. Even if I still think you are crazy to want to go work in that hole.”

Cassie caught the look that Ransom sent his brother. Was this the source of their antipathy? Or did they disagree about more than that?

K
eeping a somewhat friendly look on his face was getting more difficult by the day, or the hour. All Ransom could think was that his days of fair weather were streaming past and he was locked into helping people he did not want to help, especially since Cassie Lockwood had him in a tight squeeze. He realized this deed of ownership was not her fault, but had she never found the deed, they would not be in this situation.

And his mother, keeping this destructive secret all these years. Why had she never told them about it? She said it was because she did not want to worry them in case it never happened. Well, now it had happened, and they were stuck with giving half their ranch to this kid who knew as much about ranching as he did about wearing a top hat and attending the opera. One of these days he and Mor would have to have another discussion, just to clear the air.

So they had all worked together to repair and clean the cabin. They’d driven that circus wagon up there the next day. But now his mother wanted him and Lucas to build a corral at the cabin. And when the slab wood was cut off the logs, she expected them to build a lean-to to house that gaudy, useless wagon that the group was living in. Or rather, the women were. The men had been sleeping on the ground, but here at the ranch they had moved into the barn. Now they had the cabin to sleep in. Frankly, Ransom would have preferred the barn.

Come to think of it, did all these things need doing right now, or was Mor just making up work projects to keep him from working on his gold mine? She just might do that.

And where had Lucas gone?

Where is your Christian spirit, Ransom Engstrom?
If only there were a way to throttle the insistent little voice that nagged at him constantly.
Love thy neighbor.
Yeah, right. He’d let Lucas do the loving part. Besotted was the only possible word to describe his younger brother. All over Miss Cassie Lockwood.

The bane of his existence.

He heaved the last of the cut poles into the wagon bed. That was another thing they were going to have to do, should do, this fall. Go up into the woods and look for straight, slender poles for the stack they kept constantly available in case a pole-and-post corral had to be repaired or a new one was needed. His father always got all that advance work done in a timely way. Why could Ransom not keep up?

Tomorrow was Sunday, so at least he would have that day off. Lucas was planning to go hunting this evening with Miss Lockwood and Chief. He didn’t know why; they had not seen the elk herd recently. He climbed up into the wagon seat and hupped the team forward. When he arrived at the cabin, Micah and Chief were still digging holes for the posts. Even Ransom couldn’t fault the two men, the way they took his instructions and went to work. The old man sure put a lie to the old adage that all Indians were lazy. Of course Ransom knew that from experience already, but still the thought ripped through his mind.

They unloaded the poles and stacked them in the middle of the circle. He’d brought up the six-foot posts earlier. This wouldn’t be a high corral like down at the barn, but a three-rail fence, enough to keep unambitious horses in. “Micah, why don’t you keep digging and Chief can help me set these.”

Micah wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, his shirt sleeves rolled up. While it was a brisk fall day, it had frozen hard the night before, and digging postholes raised a sweat. He nodded and stepped off the next ten-foot section, eyeing the other holes to keep the circle true.

“I can help,” Cassie said as she joined them.

Ransom started to turn down her offer but instead slammed a post into the hole. “Hold this straight up while we put the dirt back.”

She nodded and did as he showed her. All without talking, which surprised him even further.

If Lucas knew she was out here working with them, he’d have been right here.
Where is he?

He drove the heavy steel rod down to pack the soil tight around the post. “You’ll have to hold it straight and steady while we tamp it down.” When she didn’t answer, he gave the post a bit of a push to straighten it. “Like that.”

“Sorry.”

He eyed the post when they were done. Straight. On to the next. Straight. On to the third. He shook his head. “You can’t let it lean like that. If it turns out not straight, we’ll have to dig it out and tamp it down again.”

Othello rose and came to stop at her knee. He looked up at her as if asking if she was all right. Then he stared at Ransom.

As if she needed a bodyguard. The next time he started to say something, he would have sworn the dog understood every word. The dog’s eyes lowered, and he took one step forward.

“It’s all right, Othello. Sit.”

The dog sat, but he never stopped watching Ransom.

The next time, Ransom moved the post himself, said nothing, looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

She smiled wanly. “Guess I need lessons in straight up.”

“I guess so.” He kept his voice very gentle. The dog actually smiled. Ransom stared at Cassie, who stared right back, but she had rolled her lips together.

“Is he always this protective?”

“Yes.”

They stepped back to see how all the posts looked. Ransom clamped his teeth together. Three more to go. “I do hope you can keep these straight.” While his tone was absolutely polite, he wanted to say plenty. But he didn’t. The three posts ended up straight. Guess she finally got the hang of it.

With the three of them working and him and Chief alternately shoveling the dirt back into the holes and tamping it solid with the rod, they caught up with Micah by the last hole. Once all the posts were set, again they stepped back. Well done—at least adequately done.

“Start the rails?” Chief asked.

“We should let those set for a few days, but we’re under the gun here. I was hoping to start the sawmill on Monday.” Already he’d been out at the pine trees before daylight, ready to continue lobbing the branches off as soon as it was light enough to see. Daylight was needed to limb logs, or one was liable to lose a couple of toes.

He’d been out to the mine today too. He practically had it memorized, but still he wanted to look at it, to assay the first steps he must take. Once upon a time the path between the cabin and the mine had been beaten bare by many wheels and many hooves and feet—his father’s feet and sometimes even his mother’s in their youth. Now the trace was barely discernible in the brown grass. Ransom’s feet had followed that path.

“Will you need us at the sawmill?” Micah’s question brought him back to the moment. “If not, we can nail the rails up.”

Ransom thought a moment and glanced up to see where the sun was. “We could go down to the trees and get a lot of the limbs off before dark. Let’s let the poles settle until Monday.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is church. We honor the Lord’s Day here.” Sometimes only because Mor was adamant . . . but he didn’t bother telling them his secret feelings. Yes, he wanted to do as the Word said, but surely God understood when there were things that had to be done before the snow flew.

“You have more axes?”

“There are two down there. You have one?”

“Needs sharpening.”

“Two can chop and one can pile the branches out of the way.”

“I can haul branches.” There stood Cassie at his side.

Ransom stared at her. She’d been working right beside them without slowing down, but . . . He shook his head. “Mor would have my hide if I let you do that.”

“Let me?” Her eyebrows raised and she straightened. Othello, who’d been supervising their efforts, returned to stand by her side, keeping Ransom in his sights.

Ransom stared from Cassie to her dog and then to Chief, who might almost be laughing if Ransom was reading him right. Micah coughed into his sleeve to cover the snort that escaped. Obviously, she was going to be coming along with them.

“Bring the wagon, please.” He and the two men started down the hill. He could feel her glare but ignored it. He should have offered to harness the team.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Micah turned and headed back. Ransom glanced over his shoulder to see him and Cassie sliding the horses’ bits into their mouths. What was there about her that made him act like he’d never learned any manners? If Mor caught wind of this . . .

He looked back again. Micah was riding with Cassie on the wagon, and when she stopped the team beyond the felled trees, he unbridled them so they could graze. Animal handler, huh? These people sure weren’t ranchers. They didn’t even speak the right kind of English.

Chief and Ransom set to splitting the branches off the downed trees, tossing the limbs aside as they worked.

“Where do you want the branches piled?” Cassie asked.

“Out of the way. We’ll drag the logs down to the sawmill, so off to the sides would be better.”

“One pile, or does it matter?”

He shrugged. “We’ll probably burn them after they dry some, so a couple of piles.”

“Some look good for firewood. Can we cut and use them?”

“If you want. But you should know that oak and maple burn longer and don’t soot the chimney up like pine does. Alder’s good too. Hardwood. Not pine.”

“I see. But why waste this?”

Now she sounded like Mor.

“Do what you want.”

“How about I chop for a while,” Micah said to Chief, and the old Indian handed him the ax.

As the dark encroached, Ransom decided they’d better quit before someone got hurt. He set the tools in the bed of the wagon. “I’ll sharpen those axes before we go at it again. Chief, you want me to sharpen yours too?”

“I’ll sharpen it with a file,” Micah said. “We need it to cut firewood.”

“I’ll bring up the crosscut saw when I come. I’m sure Mor is expecting you for dinner tomorrow. Will you be attending church with us?”

Cassie thought for a moment. “We’ll see. What time do you leave?”

“Gotta leave here by nine to get there in time. I know the Brandenburgs will be delighted to see you there. Come down to the house. There will be room in the wagon.” He stepped up into the wagon seat. “Thanks for your help.”

“Thanks for yours too.” Cassie started to walk up the hill, dog at her side, the two men flanking her. She turned to look at him and raised her voice. “Will we be hunting in the morning, since we won’t be going tonight?”

“No, sorry. We don’t hunt on Sundays either. Lucas must have forgotten what day it was.”

“Okay, but hunting is all right up behind the cabin?”

“Yes. The elk and deer frequently come down into the pastures too. Probably not tonight, since we’ve been working up here. Makes ’em skittish.”

She raised her hand in acknowledgment and kept on walking.

Ransom started down the hill and then turned to watch them.
I should have said just her and Micah for church, but I couldn’t do that.
Sure do hope she figures it out.
The realization that the three were all slogging along as if they were exceedingly weary made him realize he was tired too. Having another pair of hands would have lightened the load. Leave it to Lucas to be gone.

Lucas was sitting at the kitchen table when Ransom walked in.

“I thought you were going to help us today.” Ransom knew a belligerent tone would not sit well, but his brother’s not showing up didn’t sit well with him either. He stopped at the sink to wash his hands.

“Sorry, but I got involved in town.”

“Sure.”

“I kept a plate hot for you,” Mavis said, probably before another argument could heat up. “Lucas, I need some more wood in both woodboxes.”

Ransom saw the look she gave her younger son. She meant business.

“I didn’t realize he wasn’t up there until he came in all excited about a shooting match in Hill City, or a possible one.”

“So that’s where he went.” Ransom dug into his meal. The lunch she had sent with the work party had ended a long time ago.

She frowned. “You didn’t know about it either?”

“Nope.” The sound of wood being dumped into the box came from the other room. “Where’s Gretchen?”

“Spending the night with Jenna.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t come up.”

“Said she’d pass on the fencing.”

“I invited them to church in the morning.” He forked another potato into his mouth.

“Good. Do you think they’ll come?”

“Some folks wouldn’t be too welcoming to Chief and Runs Like a Deer, you know.”

“Land sakes, how could I not think of that?” She sat down at the table, a cup of coffee between her cupped hands, and stared into the dark liquid. “I want them to be happy here.”

And I want them to be on their way, without claiming half of my
—
our
—
land.
But he figured that wasn’t about to happen.

Lucas dumped a load into the kitchen woodbox and dusted off his hands. He poured himself a cup of coffee, raised the pot to ask Ransom, and set it back down at his brother’s no. Sitting down at the other end of the table, he laid his arms out on the table and leaned forward. “I talked to Mr. Porter at the Hill City Hotel about sponsoring a shooting match, and he got real excited, especially when I told him Cassie Lockwood is living right here.”