Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] (21 page)

“A lot like Pa for sure,” Ransom agreed.

“Need a refill?” Mavis asked, coffeepot in hand.

“And some more of the fried mush,” Lucas said as he held his cup up.

When his mother held up the pancake turner, Ransom nodded. “If there’s enough.”

“I made extra.” Mavis served some to herself and sat back down. “Were there any more apples up on the trees?”

“Some at the top. The deer got all the ones on the ground.”

“I thought a few more would be good. I’ve not made apple butter yet, and I hate to use the ones down in the cellar.”

Lucas looked to Ransom, who nodded. “We’ll bring them down at dinner.”

“I could maybe make an apple pie if you do.”

Apple pie was Lucas’s favorite dessert.

“Do you think there are enough up there to have a cider party?” Both Mavis and Ransom looked to Lucas. He was the last one to have been up there.

He thought a moment. “Not sure. But if we announced the party, we could ask others to bring their leftover apples to press too.”

Mavis nodded. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to have a party of some kind here. This would be ideal. There’s nothing like fresh-pressed apple cider.”

“Ma, it’s not cider until it sits a few days and the bubbles start to rise.” Lucas grinned at his mother. She always canned the first of the presses so it would keep. Apple juice left alone began to ferment. Hard cider was really fermented apple juice, the sugar all turned to alcohol.

“If you want, you could press some a couple of days early. Let me get a calendar. I’m thinking this Saturday might be good a time as any.”

“That’s not far away. No time for an announcement at church.” Ransom didn’t have a lot to say on this. They knew his feelings on parties and such. He’d run the apple press. That way he wouldn’t have to carry on conversations with those of the feminine gender.

“Shame we don’t have room for dancing.”

“No, we are not moving the hay in the middle of the barn.” Lucas grinned at his mother. “But if the weather holds, we could dance in front of the barn, like we have in the past. Dance enough and you’ll keep warm.”

“We could have a bonfire.”

Ransom gave up. He could see that between the two this was indeed a done deal, and while his mother would say there wasn’t a lot to do, he knew differently. He’d learned from experience. He got up to get the coffeepot and refilled all their cups. This could take awhile.

Later than Ransom had planned, the two brothers pushed back their chairs and shrugged into their jackets. A few minutes later, mounted with saws, an ax, and gunnysacks for the apples, they headed across the pasture.

They ground-tied their horses far enough away to be safe from falling trees and carried one of the saws to the first notched tree. Setting the saw teeth with a couple of short, quick cuts, they settled in to pull the four-foot saw back and forth. Within a couple of minutes, the tree let out a groan and started to tip in the direction of the notch. They gave it two more licks and stepped back to watch the tall pine come crashing down, taking branches from the other nearby trees with it. Branches and pinecones flew up as the tree hit the earth with a mighty roar. All Ransom could see was what a good stack of beams to repair the mine shaft the tree would become.

“I hate to see that.” Lucas tipped his hat back and wiped his forehead. “Guess the jacket needs to go.” They hung their jackets on a perpendicular branch of the fallen tree and moved on to the next one. By the time they had downed ten trees, Lucas pulled out his pocket watch. “We better get to the apples.”

“I was hoping to get some of the branches cut off, but this has been a good morning’s work. We could skip the apples.” Ransom knew the answer he’d get on that. He clapped his brother on the shoulder as they lugged axes and saws back to pick up their jackets. “Thought I’d bring the branches in and let them dry for firewood.”

“You don’t think we have enough cut already?”

“Depends on how cold the winter is.” They flipped the reins up from the horses and mounted. “An apple sounds mighty good about now.”

“Think I’ll set a snare line for rabbits. Their fur should be real dense by now.”

“Fried rabbit sounds good too.”

When they got to the apple trees, Lucas climbed up in the trees while Ransom picked from horseback. It wasn’t long before they had two sacks, one tied to each saddle horn. “Ma would have enjoyed this.”

“That she would have, and you know, if we hadn’t agreed to do this, she would have been up in the tree.” They both turned to study the three remaining trees. “Enough for a cider party?”

Ransom nodded. “We’ll get the rest tomorrow morning—bring a wagon up.”

After dinner the two of them loaded a roll of barbed wire, a posthole digger, some cedar posts, and the rest of their equipment in a wagon and drove out to the places Lucas had found that needed repair.

“Surely that fence wasn’t cut.” Ransom stared at his brother. “Who would cut our fence?”

“I wondered the same thing.” Lucas climbed down from the wagon and reached for the wire and wire clippers. “I haven’t counted to see if we’re missing any cattle.”

“We’ll do that before evening. Can you tell if anything has come through here into our fields?” While he was asking, Ransom was studying the area around the cut. No wagon wheel tracks. Only horse and cattle prints, but had some been driven out through this cut?

“I don’t think so. I rode around the cattle looking for any different brands. Didn’t find anything. The last time someone cut our wire, it was to let his cows in with our bull.”

Ransom looped the reins around the whipstock and climbed down. He pulled his leather gloves out of his rear pocket, all the while looking up and down the fence line.
Who would cut the wire?
Working together, he and Lucas cut three pieces of wire to loop at both ends and put loops on the cut piece. At the post, they used the wire stretcher to tighten the strands and stapled the excess into the post so the wires were taut again. With all their tools and spare wire back in the wagon, Ransom squatted down to study the tracks. He ranged farther from the cut and knelt down again.

“Come here.”

Lucas joined him and examined the print Ransom was pointing to. “A shod horse. How’d I miss that?”

“Who around here shoes their horses at this time of year?” Since few of the horses were ridden off the ranch, the only ones they ever shod were the team that pulled the wagon to town or on errands.

“I don’t know. It’s not something you go around asking.” Ransom walked a bit farther. “Here again.”

“See anything unusual in it?”

“No, worse luck.” Convictions had been made on an anomaly of hoofprints.

They walked back to the wagon, both of them studying the ground as they walked.

Once loaded, they headed across the field to another fence break.

“You going to see Sheriff McDougal, or do you want me to do it?” Lucas asked.

“I’ll go talk with him while you go check with the ranches right around here. Ask if anyone else has had fences cut. We can count cattle as soon as we get done here.”

“This one has a post rotted out. Maybe the bull pushed against it or something.” They’d not gone far before Lucas said, “You thought any more about selling this place?”

“No, and I have no intention of thinking on it.”

“So what do you think? Let the bank take it over? That doesn’t seem too smart to me.”

“You know, Lucas, have you ever discussed this with Ma?”

“She wants to keep it for sentimental reasons.”

“How do you know that?”

“That’s just the way she is.”

“Our mother sentimental? Why, she’s the most practical person I know.” They stopped at a post that was kept upright by three strands of barbed wire. “Have you pushed on the others on either side?” He nodded toward the rough-sawn four-by-fours.

“No. But she’ll listen to you, Ransom. You know she will.”

“Just go lean your shoulder into those other posts.” Ransom sucked in a deep breath and, after letting it all out and hopefully the anger with it, pulled the replacement post out of the back of the wagon and leaned it against the wagon bed. He had the other supplies on the ground by the fence when Lucas strolled back.

“All the rest seem okay. Must have been a faulty post.”

“You pull out the staples and I’ll start digging a new hole.” Ransom slammed the posthole digger into the ground, spread the handles, and pulled out a chunk of grass and roots. After digging a couple more times, he raised his voice. “How about using that pry bar on this?”

Lucas hefted the heavy iron bar that had a point formed on the end. Using both hands he raised and jabbed the pry bar into the started hole, then moved it back and forth before repeating the process to loosen up the dirt in the hole.

Ransom brought all the loose dirt out with the digger, and Lucas repeated his actions until they had a hole deeper than a couple of feet. Then they slammed the post into the hole and tamped the dirt in around it with the pry bar so it was packed securely. Ransom started putting things back into the wagon while Lucas hammered the staples holding the wire in place.

“Sure wonder who cut that wire. It’s not like we have range wars like some other places.”

“We’ll know more after tomorrow.”

Lucas dropped his hammer and the remaining staples into the bucket where they kept them.

On the way back to the barn, Lucas asked, “How you going to saw those trees into beams?”

“Hope to borrow Arnett’s saw.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No. Thought you’d like to do that.”

“Ransom, why would I want to ask a favor when I think what you’re planning on doing is downright stupid? There’s not been any gold from that mine since 1876. And there wasn’t a lot before then. Besides, we don’t have the money to build a sluice or any other necessary equipment. Gold in the Black Hills is all played out. Everyone says so.”

“That nugget we found came from somewhere.”

“It was an accident, washed down by the creek or some such.”

“Look, you don’t know any more than what Pa said.” Ransom’s voice rose in spite of his good intentions.

“It’s foolhardy, taking chances like that in an old broken-down mine.” Lucas glared at his brother. “You’re so stubborn, don’t listen to reason.”

“What would you do if we sold the ranch?”

“Go homestead in Montana.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ma already built one place. You think she wants to start over at another? Lucas!”

“I said you’d never listen to reason, and I’m right. Just listen to you.”

“What kind of reason have you been talking? Just sell the ranch. Give it up and walk away. And I’m not any more stubborn than you are. I’m just trying to do what’s best for us all.”

“Let me off here.”

“Good.” Ransom halted the team, and Lucas vaulted to the ground, taking off across the pasture to where the rest of the horses were grazing. He swung aboard his gelding and galloped toward the barn. “Great, go off to town and get drunk again. That’ll solve everything.” Though he yelled loudly, he was sure Lucas couldn’t hear him above the hoofbeats.

Steaming mad had a new meaning for him as he trotted the team up to the barn and backed the wagon under the shed roof. He unhitched the horses and walked them up to the big barn door to take off their harnesses. Hanging the harnesses on the wall pegs inside, he kicked at a bucket that was sitting by the door. The clang of that startled the horses, and he just barely managed to grab them before they took off.

“Easy, boys. Sorry to scare you. But if he was your brother, you’d be steaming mad too.” He led them to the pole gate, pulled back the poles, and let them loose in the field. They kicked up their heels then lay down and rolled, kicking their big feet in the air like young colts. After returning to standing and a good shaking, they put their heads down to graze.

Ransom closed the gate and pulled out his pocket watch. With the clouds covering the sun, he needed to know the time. Milking time, and he’d seen no sign of Gretchen yet. So guess who was supposed to milk? As usual his younger brother had disappeared, conveniently so. He slammed the heel of his fist against the gatepost. Good thing Lucas had left, or he might have gotten the full force of his brother’s fist. “I hate fighting! Going to Montana to homestead. What does he think he’d use for money?” Yelling at the heavens was not doing any good. He stomped off to the well house to get the milking pail. When were they going to count the cattle if tomorrow they needed to talk to the other ranchers and go to the sheriff?
So he leaves me with all the work! When is he going to grow up and think on someone besides himself?

L
ucas showed up for supper.

The rest of them were dishing up their plates when he washed his hands at the sink and took his chair. Ransom tried to not look surprised.

“Looks good, as always, Mor,” he said, reaching for the meat platter. “I checked on the smokehouse. I’ll add more wood about midnight.”

Just as if our yelling match never happened. I was so sure he would head to town and drink out his troubles
. Ransom studied his brother. Surely he had not let his idea to sell the ranch go. He would be back with another volley later. Like all the Engstroms, Lucas did not give up easily.

“What did you decide on the apples?” Mavis glanced between her two sons.

Ransom could feel her studying him. “I think there are enough, but not plenty by any means. The deer have been eating their fill. We can take a wagon up tomorrow, so you could come too.”

“I want to go along.” Gretchen looked to her mother. “Mor, I’m getting straight As. I could miss one day of school.”

“So what would I write on your excuse for Mrs. Micklewhite?”

“You could say I was sick.” Gretchen shook her head. “But I know you wouldn’t do that.” She thought a moment. “How about you need my help here at the ranch?” Her face fell when her mother shook her head.

“Well, that wouldn’t be a lie, at least. I’d be helping. I can climb those trees better than anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Lucas, here, did a good job playing monkey.”

“I haven’t lost my touch.” He grinned at his little sister. “Next year we’ll plan for apple picking on a Saturday.”

“Other kids miss school for far less than this.” She clamped her arms across her chest and glared at them all.

Ransom started to say,
Oh, let her come,
but a look from his mother stopped that idea. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked Lucas, “Did you count the cattle?”

“I did, and I think we’re missing two cows, possibly a steer.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of beat-up paper. “I wasn’t sure how many feeders we had left.” He handed the paper to Ransom. “This doesn’t look good.”

“What is happening?” Mavis asked.

“Someone cut the wire on the north fence. Found prints of a shod horse. We need to tell Edgar and see if others have been hit too.” Edgar McDougal was the long-time peace officer and sheriff for the area between Hill City and Rapid City. He lived and had his office in Argus.

“Rustlers?”

“Looks that way, although it might be just someone who’s desperate and needs meat to feed his family.”

“But you don’t believe that.” Mavis stared at her eldest son. “All these years, and we’ve never lost cattle to thievery.”

Ransom heard a whole history behind those words. This never happened when his pa was in charge. He pushed back his chair. “I’m heading in to talk with Edgar in the morning, and Lucas will canvas the other ranchers. If you write something up, he can invite them all to the party as he goes.”

“I’ll do that and take care of the smokehouse.” Mavis stood and began clearing the table. “Maybe a party is just what we all need.” She turned to Lucas. “Back to the apples, can we reach them from horseback or do we need ladders?”

“No ladders.” He slitted his eyes. “You do not need to go up there and climb the trees. We’ll take care of the apples.”

Mavis rolled her eyes. “All right. I won’t climb the trees, but I could take a wagon up there and stand in the bed.”

Ransom shook his head. “Better if you let us worry about the apples.” He turned to Lucas. “Why don’t you ask everybody to bring any extra apples they have left, and jugs. With so many hands to turn the press handles, we can do plenty.”

Mavis wiped her hands and left to get some paper.

“I was thinking that if I brought in another deer, we could do the pit- roasting, half at a time,” Lucas said. “Or maybe do both halves at once, like we used to do with a half a beef.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me. Talk to Mor.” Ransom paused and looked his brother in the eyes. “But you have to take charge of one thing or the other, the cider press or the pit.”

Lucas nodded. “I’d rather do the pit.”

“It might have to be widened.”

“Come on, big brother. I do have a brain, you know.”

“Sorry.”
But if you used it more, we might not have these heated discussions.

Rapid City

On the evening of the third day from Belle Fourche, Cassie’s entourage reached the outskirts of Rapid City and found a place to camp on a river that ran through one of the valleys that surrounded it.

The morning after setting up, she mounted Wind Dancer and followed the directions Pastor Hornsmith had given her to find his friend. She’d made sure the letter of introduction was in her pocket. Stopping only once for more specific directions, she found the church with the parsonage right next to it. Since it was about noon, she dismounted at the two-story clapboard house and tied her horse to the hitching post right in front of a picket fence. The gate squeaked when she pushed it open. Two steps led to the front door, where she knocked with assumed confidence. Never in all her life had she knocked on doors like this. Thinking no one at home, she turned away but then grabbed her courage and knocked again.

“Coming.”

Cassie sucked in a deep breath, hoping that Reverend Hornsmith had been correct about this man. Perhaps she should have worn a skirt. Why had that idea not entered her mind until right now? Swallowing the lump in her throat took three tries.

When the door opened, she forced a smile to her quivering lips. “Good day, my name is Cassie Lockwood, and Reverend Hornsmith sent me to you.” Should she shake his hand?
Mother, I don’t know the polite thing to do
.

“Come in, come in. Any friend of Obediah is a friend of mine.” The man stepped back and beckoned her in. “I’m sorry, I am Reverend Kemp. Come and meet my wife. Can you stay for dinner? If so, I’ll have your horse taken care of.”

“Ah, why thank you. I’m in no hurry.”

“Good. Come with me.” He led the way down a hall paneled in a dark wood and into a kitchen at the back of the house. “Mrs. Kemp, we have company for dinner. Meet Miss Cassie Lockwood. She’s a friend of Obediah’s.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Did you get to meet his dear wife?” Mrs. Kemp wiped her hands on her apron and led Cassie to the table that was already set for two. “You sit right there, and I’ll get another place setting. Would you like to use the necessary first? We do have indoor plumbing.”

“Yes, please.”

“Come with me.” Mrs. Kemp led her back down the hall to a door on the right that opened into a room with a sink and a toilet with a large tank attached to the wall above it. “When you’re finished, you pull this chain, and it will flush. There’s hot and cold water at the sink.”

“Oh, this is marvelous. Thank you.” After her hostess left, Cassie followed the instructions, letting the warm water from the faucet flow over her hands. How she longed for a bath and a place to wash her hair. She stared into the mirror above the sink. Did she look as dirty as she felt? After drying her hands, she made her way back to the kitchen, forbidding herself to look into the parlor she’d glimpsed as she followed the reverend into the house. She dug the letter out of her pocket on the way down the hall.

The two of them were waiting at the table for her when she entered the kitchen and took her place. “Thank you.” She handed the envelope to the reverend. “This is for you.”

“Good. Let us have grace.” They bowed their heads, and Cassie heaved a sigh of relief. As the grace continued and every blessing had been reiterated, her amen to join theirs was heartfelt.

Reverend Kemp peered at her over the glasses that perched on the end of his rather long nose. “Are you traveling through or planning on staying here in Rapid City?”

Would her answer make a difference in how they treated her? She banished the thought before it could take root. “I have a bit of a story.”

“I see.” He nodded to his wife. “Then I think we need to be fortified with some coffee while she tells us.” Again the look over the glasses. “If you feel like telling us, that is.”

“Yes, of course.” After Mrs. Kemp had poured them all some coffee, Cassie mashed her potatoes with her fork and poured the gravy over both the meat and the potatoes. The fragrance of the meal made her wipe her mouth with the napkin before she could begin to eat.

“Reverend, let her eat first.”

“Oh yes. Sorry.”

When she’d cleaned her plate twice and refused a third helping, Cassie wiped her mouth again and laid her napkin beside her plate on the table. She told them who she was, where she’d come from, and where she was headed to. “We camped west of town, I think along the road that goes out to Hill City. I think we need to go there first.”

“But I thought you wanted to go to Argus?”

“Is Argus a real town? I didn’t know for sure. All that happened so long ago.”

“Argus is more like a village, or at least that’s what my father would have called it.
Village
isn’t a term used so much in this country. My father came from Scotland. But in Argus you’ll find stores and two churches, a school for children, and various other places of business. I know one of the preachers there, Reverend Brandenburg. A fine man and leading a good congregation. Argus is a town of farmers and ranchers. There used to be some mining in that area, but that is all long gone.”

“I need to find my father’s valley.”

“I’m sure Brandenburg will be able to help you. You have no idea where it is?”

“I have what it says on the deed, and Chief remembers the look of the valley.”

“What if someone else is living there?”

“But I have the deed.”

“As you said, that was a long time ago. Things could change.”

Cassie stared at him, her stomach tying itself in knots. What if he was right?

Cassie stopped at a store that Reverend Kemp had recommended to purchase cornmeal, coffee, and a small amount of sugar. They needed grain for the horses, but the twenty dollars she had might need to help them through the winter, so the horse feed would have to wait. In her pocket this time, she carried a letter to Reverend Brandenburg in Argus. She browsed the aisles as she waited for her supplies to be weighed and wrapped, stopping in front of the rain gear. She checked the prices and kept on moving. Never in her life had she gone shopping like this. While with the show if she needed a new costume, the show’s seamstress made it for her, and before that her mother had sewn for her. She’d looked at samples of fabrics and then picked up her completed garments.

“Your order is ready, miss.”

She returned to the counter. “Thank you. Can you put them in a sack so I can tie it to my saddle, please?”

“You come back when you need more.” His smile made her nod.

“How far is it out to Argus?”

“About ten, twelve miles. We carry a wider range of supplies than the stores there. It’s a small town. You headin’ on out there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, best of luck to ya.”

As she left the store, she thought of her trip to the store in the town earlier in their travels. She’d learned a valuable lesson, but why did the lessons always have to be so expensive?