Place to Belong, a (21 page)

Mavis seemed as eager as Cassie to fill the man in on everything all at once. She was talking faster than usual. “Well, Mr. Porter has added another idea. He is calling it guest ranches and sent out a letter asking if some ranches want to host people from the East who come for the show but might like to see what ranch life is like.”

He chewed and nodded at the same time, noncommittal.

“He also said he would go talk to the Indians on the reservation and see if some of them wanted to come to the show. Did he write you a letter?”

Chief shrugged. “I never heard.”

“Hmm.” Mavis frowned. “It probably went to the head of the reservation, I expect. Would that be a chief, or an Indian agent, or what? Anyway, Mr. Porter is wanting Indians to perform in the show.”

Cassie went back outside and put Chief's horse up in a stall well bedded with straw and amply supplied with hay and a big scoop of oats. “Don't worry.” She gave him a parting pat. “We'll fatten you up. Soon your ribs won't show like this.” She hung his saddle on the rail by the front door, checked on the calf, and returned to the house.

When she brushed off her boots and stepped inside, they were sitting around the table talking and eating cookies. As expected, the women did most of the talking, and Chief did lots of nodding.

When dinnertime came, Mavis dragged the kettle of soup to
the front of the stove, set out a bowl of applesauce, and made more coffee. They kept on talking as they ate their soup and still didn't get nearly all of it said. Cassie watched Mavis awhile just to make certain. Yes, Mavis was just as glad as she was to have Chief back in her kitchen.

“I need to go practice,” Cassie said when they finished eating. “Do you want to help me?”

Chief nodded.

Mavis stood and gathered up dishes. “John, you are welcome to stay in the bunkhouse if you'd like. There's plenty of room. At least you'll have a bed that way and not have to sleep on the floor.” Mavis gestured with the coffeepot again, but he shook his head.

He stood also. “I'll talk with Runs Like a Deer and see. Used to a pallet on the floor.”

“Better than in a snowbank.” Cassie picked up her satchel and headed outside.

She did a round through all the targets and was pleased with her success. It was coming back; she was shooting like the old Cassie. Gretchen came out to watch, so Cassie enlisted Chief and Gretchen to take turns throwing wood chips up in the air. Gretchen's chip sailed high in a lazy arc. With her shot, it instantly exploded in two directions. Chief's chip arced far higher, nearly overhead, and a little twinge darted through her arm as she closed on it and fired. Direct hit.

The next “bird,” Gretchen's, was a hit, but when she closed on Chief's, a stab ran up her arm. Another. Another. She was still hitting them, but now her arm quivered whether she was taking aim or not. Her arm felt tired, an ugly sort of tired. This was discouraging. When she missed two in a row, she called a halt. Her arm was visibly vibrating.

She let her shotgun hang at her side. “Thank you. You make great birds flying. I need to do plenty of raising and lowering the
shotgun. That wasn't very good at all, but it is getting better, I guess. I'm glad there will be no matches until spring.”

“Not very good?” Gretchen practically shouted. “You got all but those last two and one other!”

“‘Good' is when I get them all. Thank you both again.”

In a tone of half joking, half not, Gretchen said, “You expect too much from yourself, Cassie,” and went back to the house.

Chief held the bag as she put her guns away. “You been working with Wind Dancer?” he asked.

“Not since we've had snow.”

“You have what? Three months after it melts out?”

“To get ready?” She nodded. “I know, but maybe we'll have some time in March and April too.” Getting them both back in shape was going to take a lot of work, she knew that, and Chief's curt reminder only made her worried. “I'll just have to do the best I can. If we can't manage the trickier things, they won't be in the act.”

What would her father do if he were in this situation? Enough snow lay about to make any show maneuver dangerous. Even when the winter weather let up, from what she understood, the melting snow would turn the ground to slippery muck, and there was no way they could do sharp turns and quick stops in a muddy corral. Maybe out on the open pasture with good grass cover, but then . . . No wonder the Wild West Show had gone south for the winter.

“You did better than you thought.” Chief gave her a half smile and began the walk up to Runs Like a Deer and Micah's cabin.

She called after him, “Come down for supper, will you please? And bring them along.” She walked up to the house, wandered back to her bedroom, and put her guns away. Maybe they'd better just forget about high shooting. Her arm had felt perfectly fine until this.

What next? Make sure the kitchen was ready for supper
preparations. She was entering the kitchen doorway when Othello barked again, this time his warning bark. Not a stranger, but not family or friend. Cassie opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, and when she saw who it was, called Gretchen.

“I brought mail,” Jenna called, sliding off her horse. She cast a wary eye toward Othello and then came up the steps. “Pa went to town, and these came in on the train.”

Gretchen popped out the door beside Cassie. “Jenna! Can you stay?” she asked eagerly.

Mavis stepped into the doorway drying her hands on a kitchen towel.

“Not today, but if the weather holds, we were wondering about maybe sledding down your hill after church Sunday.” Jenna handed the envelopes to Gretchen.

“That would be good fun,” Mavis said, her smile as wide as the girls'. “Tell your ma to bring everyone. Do you have a cow milking now?”

“No. She just stands there eating hay and being wide. This wide.” She spread her arms. “Pa says she'll likely drop twins.”

“Good, then you all won't have to be back for milking. Let's have supper here.”

Mavis was always up for a party, Cassie thought.

“Ma will want to know what to bring.”

“Let's just potluck it. Tell her I'll be making a roast.” Mavis rubbed her hands together. “Oh good! We've not done this for far too long. I haven't seen your mother for months, except in church. Now I wish we had poured a skating rink in the corral. Wait here a minute.” She disappeared back in the house.

Gretchen urged, “Bring your skis too. And we have the toboggan.”

Cassie hoped Mavis would return soon. She was getting chilled standing out here.

Jenna giggled with Gretchen. “See you at church,” she said and walked back out to her horse.

Mavis came hustling out at a fast walk, a canvas bag in each hand. She gave one of them to Jenna. “Some cookies to take back with you. Don't eat them all on the way, hear?”

Jenna giggled again. “Would I do that? Thank you, Mrs. Engstrom.” She hung the bag on her saddle, turned her horse aside, and headed out the lane toward the gate.

Cassie heard her call cheerfully, “Hi, Mr. Chief! Glad to see you back.”

Here came Chief walking down the hill from the cabin. Cassie saw him wave to Jenna, but she could not hear if he responded. Cassie puffed out a frosty breath.

“Well, that sure is a change in plans. But it will be so nice to see the Hendersons.” Mavis looked at the letters. “One from Jesse and one from Mr. Porter. I'll read them to everybody tonight.”

Cassie was really getting cold now, but she waited on the porch with Gretchen and Mavis as Chief came through the gate and walked over to them. He waved a hand in the general direction of the barn. “Go get my horse. Stay up at the cabin tonight. Thank you for the dinner.”

“Take these with you.” Mavis handed him the other bag of cookies. “Micah likes cookies too, and there is no oven up there.”

Chief bobbed his head once, a nod, and walked off to the barn.

Cassie led the way inside. Behind her, Gretchen said, “Mor, I thought you'd give both bags to Jenna.”

“I intended to, but then I saw Chief coming down the hill.”

Gretchen settled into a kitchen chair. “I wish he would talk more. I want to know what it was like for him on the reservation. He hasn't said anything about where he went or what he's been doing.”

Cassie parked herself in front of the stove. “I prayed sometime
during the night or very early morning that he would be all right and that he would come back. I was hoping if he ever came back, it would perhaps be a visit during the rodeo and show.”

She stepped aside, for Mavis was bringing a big iron frying pan to the stove.

Mavis stopped and looked at her. “There is a verse I dearly love where God says, ‘Before they call, I will answer.'”

Cassie stared at Mavis. “Are you sure?”

“Of course she is sure. Mor knows everything about the Bible.” Gretchen stood up and headed for the doorway. “I want to wear my skirt tomorrow. I didn't think how far around that skirt is.”

Cassie smiled. “All that's left is the hem. I'll help. You'll wear it.”

“Maybe I should wear my hair up too.”

“I don't think so. You are not a young woman yet.” Mavis tapped her daughter on the nose. “Besides, if you are a young lady, you might not want to go tobogganing.”

“That doesn't work, Mor. Cassie is a young woman, and she likes the toboggan too.” Gretchen ducked away from her mother's playful swat and went to fetch her skirt.

“I'll make the bread loaves while you two sew the hem. I think I'll fry some pieces for an afternoon treat.” Mavis paused and stared out the window. “I'm glad he's back where we can take care of him. He doesn't look to be in the best health.”

Cassie closed her eyes.
Please, Lord, let Chief live here with all of us a long time. And if you want to give me a way to get him talking more, I'd sure be tickled.
In her next thought, she chided herself:
He already answered one of your prayers today. What do you want to be—greedy?

C
assie stared at the calendar. The New Year really had come in with a roaring wind and another foot of snow. Gretchen was supposed to go back to school today, but there was no getting through those drifts. The short, familiar path between the barn and the house had been obscured by swirling, blowing snow, and had those ropes not been strung between house, barn, and bunkhouse, the men could easily have become disoriented and wandered out into the blizzard. But thanks to the ropes, Ransom and Arnett could make sure the cattle were fed, the cow was milked, and the barn animals were cared for, and return in safety to the house.

She thought back to Sunday, when the Hendersons came over to dinner and the afternoon of fun on the hill. She'd even learned to make real turns while on skis, though she fell the first few times. By the time they finished, even the horse Arnett rode looked plumb tuckered out from dragging the toboggan back up the hill. Mavis had set apple juice to heat with some spices to warm everyone up again before the guests waved good-bye from their sleigh.

So far Cassie had won two rounds of the latest checker tournament, but when she played Ransom for the third time, something about him distracted her.

He won by a king.

What had it been? Was it the twinkle she saw in his eyes? Ransom's eyes didn't twinkle much. Or had she just not been paying enough attention? Whatever it was, she lost the tournament and wasn't doing much better on figuring it out.

One of the pleasures of winter, she had learned after Christmas, was Mavis reading aloud every evening with them all gathered in the big room. Cassie was darning wool stockings, Arnett was carving something he wasn't really showing, and Gretchen was knitting herself a pair of stockings with fine yarn they had dyed a gentle yellow using onion skins. Ransom alternated between ranch bookwork and drawing furniture plans.

While Cassie had read
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
before, she enjoyed it even more this time.

“Read some more,” Gretchen pleaded when her mother put the bookmark in place.

“But what if the storm stops and you have to go to school tomorrow?”

“So I'll have a hard time getting up.”

Mavis glanced around the room to see the others nodding. “All right. One more chapter.”

Being read to like this made Cassie remember some of the times her mother had read to a group of children during school time or she and her father had read in the evenings. Being read to always equaled love in her mind. She wove the darning needle in and out, picking up knitting stitches when she could so the darn would be less obvious, laughing with the others at Tom's antics. Twice when she glanced at Ransom to see if the twinkle had remained, she caught him looking at her. It wasn't a critical sort of looking, or a curious looking, or a vacant staring-into-
space looking, and certainly was not ogling. Just looking. Was that a smile when the corner of his mouth lifted oh so slightly?

That he had caught her looking at him made her face and neck feel as if she were sitting right next to the fireplace.
Pay attention to what you are doing
, she ordered herself when she had to loosen a couple of stitches she had pulled too tight.

Gretchen stretched and yawned when her mother closed the book, making Cassie yawn too. The yawn traveled around the room and left them all almost laughing. Almost a twinkle from Ransom's eye too.

What would it take to make him really smile, she wondered, or indeed, laugh out loud? She had never ever heard a genuine, deep-down belly laugh from him.

Ransom closed his ledger and stood, stretched, and wandered over to the window. Swirling blackness out there. Cassie could see it as well as he. He opened the door for a better look, only to let a blast of powdery snow swirl right into the room. He slammed the door shut. Both Benny and Othello raised their heads, looked at him, and settled back down, eyes closed.

Ransom started toward his room. “Guess they don't want to go out in that either. Good thing Chief chose to stay up at the cabin. He'd never have made it back down tonight.”

“Good thing that rope goes to the bunkhouse too.” Arnett brushed the curls and chips from his carving into a basket kept for tinder.

“You could sleep in here if you want,” Mavis offered. “It's warmer.”

“Naw, my dog is waiting out there. I banked the stove real good, so I only need to throw more wood in when I get out there. Mavis, thank you always for such a perfect evening, good food, good company, and entertainment too.” He looked to Cassie. “You shoulda won that, ya know. G'night, all.” And he disappeared into the kitchen.

Later, Cassie found herself chuckling again as she slipped her cloth-wrapped hot rock under the covers to warm the bed. That Arnett. A tap on her door caught her attention.

“Come in.”

Mavis stuck her head around the door. “How are you holding up with shells?”

“They are about half gone. Why?”

“I've been thinking if this breaks, we might go into town tomorrow. I know Ransom wants to get back to the woodshop. Do you want to go?”

“All right. Yes.”

But while the wind had dropped by morning, clouds were still hanging low, hinting at more snow to come. Ransom and Arnett decided to work on repairing two old chairs they'd found in the pile in the barn, mending some harness pieces if they were not too dry to be mended, and sanding rust off the replacement discs they'd discovered so they could be sharpened. Repairing machinery was always a winter chore, one Ransom had neglected this year in favor of shoring up the mine.

As they left for the barn after breakfast, Ransom cautioned, “I'd rather you didn't head to town today, Mor. Looks iffy out there.”

“I agree. I wish I had kept Gretchen home.” But the sledge had come for her and off they had gone.

“If it gets bad, you know they'll keep the kids in town.”

“I know, but . . .” Mavis heaved a sigh. “Maybe I have cabin fever.”

“You?”

“I know. I have plenty to do but . . .”

Ransom shut the door. “What is it?” His voice hardened. “Lucas?”

Mavis paused. “Possibly.” She thought some more. “Probably. I guess I thought maybe there would be a letter from him.”

“Lucas won't write. He's too afraid I'll come and find him. If we ever get an elk, I'll see if he is in Hill City.”

Mavis straightened her shoulders. “I'll be fine. Come on, Cassie, let's make cinnamon rolls.”

Ransom nodded. “See you for dinner.”

Mavis and Ransom had read the clouds well. The storm came roaring back soon after the men returned to the barn. The windows rattled and the kitchen darkened. Cassie decided she didn't want to think about the mournful howling and frigid drafts. She'd think about other things.

“I've been thinking,” Cassie announced after they slid the pans of cinnamon rolls into the oven. “Would you like to help me write a bunch of letters? Well, write the first one and then I'll just copy it as soon as I get addresses.”

“For shooting matches?”

Cassie nodded. “I need to get started on this.”

“Sure. Be glad to.” They sat down at the table with a tablet and pencil. “We'll write the body of the letter and leave the address and salutation to be added later.”

“Right. It won't look funny, do you think?”

“Not if we do it right.”

Cassie tapped her chin with the end of the pencil and started writing.

Greetings.

My name is Cassie Lockwood, and I am the daughter of Adam Lockwood. You might have heard that he passed away five years ago and I stayed with the Wild West Show of Lockwood and Talbot that is no longer around.

“Change that to
in business,”
Mavis suggested.

“Good.”
In business. I am looking for shooting matches to shoot in.

“How about
to participate in
?”

Cassie made the change.
If you know of any, I would like to . . .

She looked up to see Mavis squinting hard to think better.

“I know.” Cassie jotted quickly,
I would appreciate your assistance in ways to contact them
.

She nodded. “All right. Add our address—
The Engstrom Ranch, Argus, South Dakota
—and then you'll sign them when you have contact information.”

Cassie read the letter again. They made one other change, and Mavis went to put more wood in the fireplace and bring good paper and pens back to the kitchen. “Got to get the rolls out.”

She pulled the two pans from the oven and immediately tipped each over onto the racks and then lifted the baking pans off. The cinnamon fragrance wafted around the kitchen, and steam rose from the rolls.

“Does anything in the whole world smell better than that?” Cassie inhaled with a blissful sigh.

“
Mm
, lilacs in the spring?” Mavis shook her head. “Maybe not. I expect Ransom will say he could smell them clear to the barn and show up anytime to make sure.”

“The way it is storming out there?”

“Maybe not. But either he has a better sense of smell than most dogs, or he has a sixth sense time-wise as to when rolls should be ready.” She pulled the coffeepot to the hotter part of the stove. “We can write while that heats.”

They each copied one letter and wiped off the pen nibs.

“It's hard to believe it is only three o'clock, dark as it's gotten.” Mavis set a plate with rolls on the table and poured them each a cup of coffee. She poured two more mugs as well and set them on the rack above the stove.

“They won't let the kids come home in this, will they?”

“No. Some people in town will take them in. One of these
years when the telephone lines come clear out here to Argus, we'll be able to keep in touch. Doesn't that sound amazing?” She turned at the sound of stomping feet on the back porch. “What did I tell you?”

Arnett came in first, crystalline snow frosting the scarf that covered his face and tied his hat down. “You'll have to sweep us off.”

Mavis fetched the broom and had started on him when Ransom entered, the full milk pail over his arm.

He set it in the sink. “I'm next. The milk is already cold.” He sniffed. “I knew it.”

Mavis swept him off too. “I told Cassie you'd be here, and she didn't believe me.” Hearing a bark at the door, she let both dogs in. “Where's your dog, Arnett?”

“Inside the bunkhouse. He didn't figure it was worth going out today. I stopped there and restoked the fire.”

The men took their coffee and rolls in to sit by the fireplace, and Cassie and Mavis returned to copying letters.

“Seems a waste to be lighting the lamps in the middle of the afternoon, but . . .” They both paused to listen to the wind tear at the eaves. “Sounds almost like a hungry beast, doesn't it?”

“On a day like this, there's only one thing to do. I think I'll bake some gingerbread.” Mavis got out the ingredients and the utensils. “Put some more wood in that stove, would you, please? I need to get that oven hotter.”

Cassie did as asked and then went ahead and strained the milk, setting flat pans in the pantry for the cream to rise. She shut the door on the pantry and tucked the rolled rug against the bottom of the door to keep the draft out of the kitchen. “Do you mind if I make cocoa? A cup of that sounds so comfortable.”

“Make plenty. You won't be the only one who wants some.”

Cassie measured cocoa and sugar into a pan and added enough water to make liquid, then added milk, stirring as she
did. She slid the pan away from the hottest part of the stove and went to the big room. “Do either of you want cocoa and possibly another cinnamon roll?”

“Is it snowing outside?” Ransom asked.

Cassie frowned, rather confused. “Well, yes.”

Arnett cackled. “He's teasing you, missy. What he means is, ‘Why, yes of course, thank you.' And me too.”