Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] (25 page)

“Oh, that’s just a bit of dill leaves, if you can call them that, from my garden. I do love the smell of dill.” She looked to the others. “Please start the serving bowl or plate nearest you and help yourselves. Oh, and in our house we pass them to the right.” Her gentle voice held no note of censure or criticism. One would think she entertained such a motley crew every day.

“Cassie, dear, is there anything else we need here?”

“Not that I can think of. We don’t usually get food like this, especially if I do the cooking, so we are so grateful. They’ve been teaching me how to cook over a campfire—not that I ever cooked on a stove either. We always ate in the dining tent.”

“Really?” Mrs. Brandenburg stared at her for a moment. “Well, I wish you could stay with me for a while. I would love to teach you how to cook.”

Cassie stared at her. “You would do something like that?”

“Of course I would. What a fine time we would have.”

“My wife is known for her good cooking. Why, she and Mavis Engstrom have contests sometimes to see who is best.” He leaned forward. “Not a bad thing to have superior cooks in your congregation. We all eat like kings.”

Mrs. Brandenburg
tsk
ed and wagged her fingers at her husband. “How you go on.”

Reverend Brandenburg turned to the men, who were quietly cleaning their plates and refilling them at his wife’s insistence. “Chief, what reservation were you from originally?”

“Pine Ridge.”

“Will you be going home again?”

Cassie waited for his answer, but all he did was shrug. Was he going or staying? She would have to confront him another time. The thought of his leaving them made her stomach roll. She’d wakened some nights from a nightmare of him gone.

When their plates were empty, the Brandenburgs started the platter and bowls around again. “Help yourselves, please, although I do hope you save room for dessert too. I made chocolate pie—that is Reverend Brandenburg’s favorite.” She smiled at her husband. “This way you won’t be forced to eat two pieces so it doesn’t go to waste.”

Cassie needed to loosen her belt by the time they were finished. While she and the Brandenburgs carried most of the conversation, the others had answered when spoken to.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Micah said. “For all of us.”

“You are welcome. I do hope you will come again.”

“You’ll be going on tomorrow?” Reverend Brandenburg asked.

“They stay. I will go looking,” Chief said, not looking at Cassie.

Cassie stared at him. When had he decided this, and why had he not mentioned his idea to her? She pushed her chair back with the rest of them. “May we stay and help you with the dishes?”

“Oh no. That’s not necessary, but thank you for offering. I’ll have the reverend bring you some fresh bread tomorrow after I bake, and I have extra eggs that I thought you might enjoy. You might like to take them tonight and have them for breakfast. Oh, and we put some potatoes in a sack for you. They are by the front door, so pick them up as you go out.”

Eggs for breakfast. Cassie could feel her grin splitting her face. “You are so generous. Thank you.” Cassie accepted the basket thrust into her hands.

Mrs. Brandenburg patted her arm. “I do hope you find your valley and that it is near to us. We’d love to see you in church on Sundays. And if you are close enough, the offer of cooking lessons will be a standing one.”

“Thank you.” Cassie followed the others out the door. It occurred to her that she’d better dig out one of those skirts from her trunk. She’d better be dressed like a lady, even though Mrs. Brandenburg hadn’t seemed to notice her pants. All the other women around might not be so forgiving.

They had left Othello to guard the wagon, and he welcomed them home with a yip and a dance. The other dog at least came out from under the wagon now, and sometimes even wagged his tail. She’d asked Runs Like a Deer what the dog’s name was, but she looked confused and said she called him
Dog
.

After they hobbled the horses and before she climbed up the steps into the wagon, she stopped by Chief. “What do you mean, we are staying here and you are going on to look?”

“I think that best.”

“Why?”

“No sense driving wagon and cattle all over looking for the place.”

Cassie thought a moment. That did make good sense. “I could go with you.”

“Someone needs to be here.”

“Micah and—”

“You do not understand. Someone needs to be here.” He stared into her eyes.

“But we are safe in town, by the church . . .” She slowed each word, trying to decipher his meaning. A slight shake of his head added to her confusion. “Look, Chief, I have no idea what you are talking about, but I can see this is very important to you, so I’ll stay.”

“Good.” He knelt by the wagon and pulled his and Micah’s bedding out of the box slung beneath the frame.

Cassie joined Runs Like a Deer in the wagon. “Do you need some help?”

“No. Those were good people.”

“The Brandenburgs?”

She nodded. “Wish we had gift for them.”

Cassie nodded. “That would be good. Runs Like a Deer, are you going to leave and go to a reservation?”

“You want me to go?”

“Not at all. I want your leg to finish healing so that you can do whatever you want to do. And if that means staying with us, all the better.”

“But I am Indian.”

Cassie stared at the part in the woman’s hair, since she was studying her hands in her lap. “Why should that make a difference?”

“Many white people do not like Indians.”

Cassie knelt in front of her. “Look at me, Runs Like a Deer. I am not like most or many white people, then. Chief is my friend. You are my friend. Friends are extremely important to me. Like the family I don’t have.” She paused. “Do you have family?”

“Not any longer.”

“Then please, can we be family?”

The nod came slowly, but when Runs Like a Deer put her hand over Cassie’s, the pact was sealed.

“Sisters?” Cassie whispered.

“Sisters.”

T
he fire snapped and crackled.

Cassie stepped out of the wagon in the morning then reached back in to grab the basket Mrs. Brandenburg had sent with them. Peeking inside, she found a slice of ham in there too. She set the basket on the ground by the fire and told Othello to keep his inquisitive nose out of it. “We can cut up the ham and scramble the eggs.”

Chief nodded and within minutes the breakfast was ready.

“I should have made biscuits,” Cassie said.

“No time. Water the horses at the corral. Put the team in with the others. Keep Wind Dancer here.”

Micah nodded. “This is good.” He held up his plate.

“Hey, Ma, Indians,” a boy shouted from the street.

“You stay away from them. Come here to me right now.”

Cassie spun around to see a child dragging his feet back to his mother’s side. The woman’s eyes opened wide when she saw Cassie. “In our churchyard. Well, I never.” She spun around so fast her skirt fluffed and huffed back the way she had come.

Cassie stared after her. What was that all about? She walked a few steps to see up the street. The woman was making a fast line to Reverend Brandenburg’s house.

“We need to leave here today.” Chief went for his horse and within minutes had him saddled and ready to leave. “Stay close to the wagon.”

Cassie watched him leave. Of course she had read in newspapers about the Indian problems, but that was some time ago. When she did give it any thought, she figured fighting was still going on in Texas and Arizona, not in the Dakotas. Her father and Jason Talbot had always treated their Indian workers just like everyone else. While the Indians had kept more to themselves than the rest of the performers and crew, there had never been any conflict, at least not that she knew of.

Runs Like a Deer poured Micah another cup of coffee and raised the pot, looking at Cassie. She shook her head. Was this what Chief was trying to tell her last night?

She walked out to where Wind Dancer was grazing, swung aboard, and rode him over to the corrals to give him a drink. Two boys were sitting on the corral fence watching George and the Longhorns. She slid to the ground, swung open the gate, and led her horse in for a drink at the trough.

“You sure got a pretty horse, miss,” one of the boys called. “What’s his name?”

“Wind Dancer.” She leaned her rear against the lip of the trough and smiled at the boys. “He’s a mighty smart horse.”

“Does he do tricks?”

Another boy climbed up to join them. “That’s a real buffalo.”

“His name is George. He used to be in a Wild West show.”

“A buffalo named George?” His eyes widened.

“Yep. He’s pretty old now.”

Wind Dancer turned his head and dribbled water on her arm. “Thanks.” She pushed his nose away. “Drool on the ground, not on me.”

The boys giggled.

She led Wind Dancer out of the corral and shut the gate. “I wouldn’t get in that corral, if I were you. George isn’t used to kids much.”

“You with that fancy wagon over by the church?”

“I am.”

“Those Indians yours?”

How did one answer that question? Cassie chose to ignore it and swung back up on Wind Dancer. She waved. “See you.”

A group of people had gathered near the wagon and fell back when she rode up.

“This your wagon?”

“Yes.”

“You part of a Wild West show?”

“Used to be.”

“What are you doing in Argus?”

“Just passing through.”

“Good thing. Does Reverend Brandenburg know you’re camped here?”

“He told us to camp here.” She eased closer to the big man who was asking the rude questions. She dropped her voice. “Are we doing anything to bother you?”

“You being here is a bother.”

“Why?”

“You got an Indian with you.”

Dancer sidled nearer, forcing the man to take a step backward. “Look, mister, we’re here by invitation. We’ll be moving on later today or early in the morning. Are you a member of this church?”

“Well, in a way. But I lived in this town a long time, and we don’t allow Indians to take up living here.” His voice sported a bluster as big as a north wind.

“How come you’re the only one complaining?”

“Somebody’s gotta speak up for the folks.”

Cassie glanced around to see some of the other adults looking at the ground or at each other from under their hat brims.

“Good morning, Miss Lockwood. I brought the bread the missus promised you. Right from the oven. Looks like I should have brought more. Glad to see you folks welcoming our visitors. Why, did you know this young lady used to be a trick rider with that wonderful horse of hers?”

“You were with that Wild West show?” another man asked, pointing at the wagon. “I saw that show one year up in Fargo. There was a trick-riding girl who could shoot clay pigeons out of the air and an apple off her dog’s head.” He looked around at the others. “That could be her.”

“It was. Glad you were able to attend. That show has disbanded now, so you were fortunate.” She glanced up to see a good-looking young man on a horse at the rear of the crowd. He touched the brim of his western hat with a gloved hand, his smile bright like the sun. Unlike the other man, this one indeed said welcome.

Cassie smiled back and watched him turn and ride away. The whole thing lasted less than half a minute. She dismounted and took the loaf of bread. “Thank you.”

“You were doing just fine,” he whispered. “You might think of putting on an exhibition sometime. It would go a long way to making a place for yourself here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Mith, can I pet your horth?” a little snub-nosed girl asked.

Cassie squatted down to the child’s level. “Why, you certainly may.” She signaled Wind Dancer with her hand, and he bowed down on one knee, his head right near the little girl’s hand. She beamed at Cassie and smoothed the forelock.

“He likes to have his ears rubbed.” Cassie showed her how, and the child followed her actions. When Dancer stood upright again, a young woman put her hands on the little girl’s shoulders.

“Thank you, miss. That was right generous of you.”

“Thank you, mith. I never patted a horth pretty ath him before.” The little girl took her mother’s hand and waved as they left.

Cassie looked up to see that most of the crowd had faded away. She glanced over to Reverend Brandenburg, who was standing by Runs Like a Deer. “I’m going to hobble Dancer. We have coffee in the pot if you’d like a cup.”

“How about later? I need to get my sermon ready for Sunday.” His smile made her nod. “And a little child shall lead them?”

“I guess. Who was that blowhard?”

“One of our few not-too-savory characters. He’s usually sleeping off the night before at this time of day, so I was surprised to see him here.”

“I guess there are people like that everywhere.”

“Sad to say. But most of the people of Argus are fine, upstanding Christian folk who welcome strangers and help one another out. Chief is out searching?”

“Yes. He left early.”

“You know you are invited to stay as long as you need to?”

“Thank you, but I’m sure we’ll be pushing on.”

“Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”

“We won’t.”

Sometime later when she heard a horse trotting up the street, Cassie looked up to see Chief riding in. He had to have found the valley to be returning so soon. How could her heart be leaping and her stomach clenching at the same time?

Cassie was almost afraid to ask. She studied the sober look on Chief’s face. Good news or bad? Her throat tightened. He was back early. Surely he wouldn’t have returned without finding something.
Lord, help me.
“So . . .” Her voice squeaked, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “So what did you find?”

“I found the valley.”

“And?”
Come on, Chief, get it out.

“I found a good place to camp.”

“Fine. What about my father’s valley?”

“There is a ranch there.”

Now what would they do? She turned away and climbed the steps to the wagon, the need to be alone stronger than her curiosity. Someone was ranching on her land, the land she held the deed for, the land her father had bought and paid for. Tears burned behind her eyes, making her nose run. This was too deep a matter to cry over. If someone was already living there, what were they to do? Winter could hit any day, as Chief had reminded her on their way down from Belle Fourche to Rapid City. They not only needed a place to set the wagon but pasture for the animals.

You can always go find another Wild West show to star in.
The voice sounded close enough to be real. “Right. I could do that. But that means I would have to leave the others. What would happen to them?” She shook her head. Here she was arguing with an unseen voice.

Her mother had always said God had a plan for her life. But if He did, He sure wasn’t giving clear directions. Her mother also said to look for answers in the Bible, something Cassie had not been doing ever since they’d left the show. So how would she do that? Just flip open the Bible and voilà, there it would be? She leaned her forehead against the bedpost.

Her father always said,
“Take the next step. All God is asking you to do is to take the next step.”
The next step for them was what? She made a mental list of the possibilities.

Do we all go out there now?

Do Chief and I ride out there?

Do we go on to Hill City and come back another time?

The questions rattled around in her brain like a child’s toy. There were good reasons for any of them. For all of them. She took a deep breath, assured herself that she wasn’t going to break down in tears, and went back outside.

“You get on out of here before we have to make you leave.” The loudmouth from the morning was back and had brought some friends.

“We could stay here another night,” Cassie said to Chief.

He crossed his wrists over the saddle horn, rolled his eyes toward the trio at the street, and waited.

Lord, what is it I am supposed to do here? We aren’t doing anything wrong. Why do people act this way? We came all this way, and now I’m terrified.
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “How far is it?”

“Four or five miles.”

“And you’re sure it’s the right place?”

“Yes. The three upright rocks have not changed.”

“Hey, little high-and-mighty show star, you hear me?” The man turned and said something to a man beside him who looked about as disreputable as the first. Loudmouth was obviously the leader of the pack.

“Need to get out of town,” Chief told Cassie. “Found good place to camp. Valley will wait.” Chief dismounted and tied his horse to the wagon wheel. “Before bad trouble.”

Cassie rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. This morning could happen again, only in the middle of the night if some men got liquored up. Like the blowhard. She’d seen men who were drunk, or rather had heard them. Drunkenness was cause for firing from the show, but they couldn’t always control the townspeople where they performed.

“Get ready to leave, and I’ll go talk with Reverend Brandenburg. We can pick up the rest of the cattle on our way out.” She strode off, knowing that the reverend had left the church and gone home an hour or so earlier. What a shame that they couldn’t stay there. But Sunday was coming, and the people who attended the church would need a place for their horses and wagons. She knocked on the door and waited.

“Well, Miss Lockwood, what a nice surprise. No, maybe not. You’re planning to leave, aren’t you?” He stepped back. “Can’t you come in?”

“No, I think not. I just wanted to thank you for the hospitality and tell you that the valley I hold title to is four to five miles out of town. Chief found it, but there’s a ranch already there.”

“I see. Is it on the main road?”

“I don’t know. He found us a place to camp. Uh . . . I’ve never in my life asked anyone this, but could you pray for us? I really don’t know what to do here.”

“Of course we will.” Mrs. Brandenburg appeared by her husband, wiping her hands on her apron. “And if your land is no further away than that, you’ll be able to come to church. Why, a ranch family out that way, the Engstroms, will be wonderful neighbors, and they are staunch members here. Fine people.”