Place to Belong, a (22 page)

Cassie glanced at Ransom, who gave a slight shrug, his face impassive. He nodded. “Thank you.”

What was happening with her? When he looked directly at her, her heart tripped or something. “I-I'll bring in a plate of rolls.”

“You could bring your cocoa in here too and help us enjoy the fire.” Arnett's invitation made her smile.

“Thank you.” She stopped at the window on her way back. It was black as night out there but the sun was not down yet, and the wind still clawed at the roof. It seemed strange for Gretchen not to be galloping in about now and the dogs barking their greeting. Instead, both dogs lay curled up on the rugs in front of the fireplace. She turned to the men. “They should be all right up there, shouldn't they? At the cabin?”

Ransom gave a slight nod. “They have plenty of wood and water. Although they could melt snow for water if they needed to. The cattle and horses will be crowding together in the lee of the barn or by the haystack. This is not a terrible storm, just lasting longer than usual. You needn't worry about any of them.”

Easier said than done
. He might be used to being shut up in the house, but this was all new to her. Her winters had never included a raging beast trying to rip its way into the house and devour the occupants. And when it was cold enough to cool the bucket of milk between the barn and house, it was some cold. If it was this bad from inside the house, what was it like outside
for Wind Dancer? George and his kind were well prepared, but her horse had never experienced such weather.

“Do you think Wind Dancer is all right?”

“He's been feeding at the haystack with the rest of the horses and cattle. The buffalo come up sometimes, but I guess they like digging for frozen grass better than sharing.”

Cassie nodded. “Thank you. I was hoping to ride him one of these days.”

“Once this blows over, we'll have good weather again. That's South Dakota for you.”

Cassie went to see if the cocoa was hot enough. Mavis was just sliding the pan of gingerbread into the oven. “There now. That will taste mighty good after supper.” She turned to Cassie. “You're worrying about something?”

Cassie felt her shoulders and upper back twitch and her face take on a frown. “I'm not sure it's worry so much, but—”

“But if that wind would stop screaming and shrieking, you'd feel a whole lot better?”

Cassie thought a moment. “How did you know? I didn't.”

“Oh, my dear, I've lived here a long time. Others have felt that way too. I read a letter one time from a woman who was homesteading out on the prairie, and she talked about the wind driving people insane. That some actually ran out of their houses and died because they couldn't stand it any longer.”

Cassie turned to see that Ransom had come into the kitchen.

He nodded. “I've heard that same thing about wolves howling and prowling around the sod houses and shanties. Life out on the prairie is hard. We have it much easier here.” He inhaled the mingled fragrances. “Mor, your kitchen always smells so good. Think I'll have another cinnamon roll if it is long until supper.”

“Is fifteen or twenty minutes long?”

“Well, I better have one just in case.”

“Just in case?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Why, just in case the house blows away.”

Mavis laughed, and sure enough, there was that twinkle back in his eyes. Matching his mother's.

So that's where he got it
, Cassie thought, fighting a grin herself. Is he different since Lucas left, or am I just paying more attention? “I'll fix you one,” she told him. “Do you want it heated?”

Sure enough there was a twinkle in his eye.

C
assie jerked upright in the middle of the night. What had she heard? She listened hard, not breathing. Nothing. That's what she heard. Nothing. The wind had stopped. She flopped back on her pillows, almost giggling in relief. She drifted back to sleep, feeling the smile her mouth insisted upon.

Surely the storm was no more, because after breakfast and chores, the men all rode out through the new snow to Arnett's place. They would not have done that if there were any chance of more snow pending.

That afternoon when Gretchen came home from school she brought not only stories of the storm but also mail. Mavis smiled at the envelope from her son Jesse. Cassie stared at the two envelopes addressed to her. One was from Tyrone Fuller, the man who'd won the Hill City shoot, and the other was from Mr. Porter.

“So open them.” Gretchen returned from hanging up her things. “Oh, it feels so good to be home.”

“Where did you stay?” Mavis asked, slitting an envelope with a table knife and handing it to Cassie.

“With the Brandenburgs. Both me and Jenna. We had the best time, but it was scary, even just walking to their house, the snow and wind was so bad. But our teacher told us all where we would be going and let us out a bit early. Before it turned pitch black. Did you ever see anything like that, Mor? So dark, I mean?”

“I agree, it was bad.”

Cassie opened the letter from Mr. Porter first. After a quick skim through, she went back to the beginning and read it aloud.

“Dear Miss Lockwood,

“I'm sure by now you've received your invitation to the shooting match in St. Louis. My wife and I plan to attend, and we hope you would like to travel with us. You could join us on the eastbound train in Argus on February 22. We will provide your ticket and look forward to getting to know you better as we travel the rails. I know trains are not new to you, but we are looking forward to seeing new country.

“Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Porter”

“That's not far off.” Gretchen stared at her in wide-eyed wonder.

So true! Cassie slit open the second. “The shoot is in St. Louis on February 25, and it lasts two days.”
Can I be ready by then
? The question knifed her, making her hands shake. Before, her shooting depended on her arm healing. Now her practicing depended both on her arm and on the weather. At least she had shot that morning. Not for long, though, because the cold had seeped right into her hands to the very core, making them stiff in spite of the gloves.

“But you'll go?” Gretchen's brows furrowed.

Cassie nodded. “I guess I better answer them both.” She fetched the good paper from Ransom's desk, along with ink and pen. What would it be like to sit at that desk and write her letters? She almost smiled at the thought, how mature and dignified she would be, sitting there and writing.

Once upon a time she'd had no doubts about her shooting ability. Her father pointed her toward the targets, and she took them out. Now she couldn't help wonder what if she wasn't good enough anymore? Mr. Porter would be throwing his money away on her again, as would JD at the store.

“All you can do is your best
.
”
The voice of her father came as if he were standing right behind her. If she thought about it, she could feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, blew out a breath, and headed back to the kitchen. But what if her best wasn't good enough?

“You look worried. About the shoot? We'll be praying for you, Cassie.” Mavis turned from the stove. “God says we can do all things through Him, who strengthens us.”

“Then I sure hope He makes my arm strong again too. Do you think winning a shooting contest is important to Him?”

“Good question. But somewhere in Psalms, I think, there's a verse that says something along the line that whatever concerns us, concerns Him. I'll have to find that again. That's not it exactly. But He can use your shooting for His glory too. I'm not sure how, but He'll find a way.”

Gretchen prompted, “Mor, read the letter from Jesse.”

“I will, after supper.”

“Since they are all over to Arnett's, I suppose I better go milk.” Gretchen peered out the kitchen window. “Sun's down behind the hill. 'Course it was nearly there when I got home.” She did not look at all excited by the prospect.

If Mavis noticed, she made no sign. “Take this bucket of scraps for the chickens. Oh, and check to make sure the stock
tank didn't freeze over again. I know Ransom took an ax to it this morning.”

With a dramatically heavy sigh, Gretchen did as her mother said, even to throwing a look of despair over her shoulder.

“I should learn to milk,” Cassie suggested.

“In due time. You're learning new things every day.” Mavis fetched a slab of beef from the pantry.

Cassie frowned. “I thought we were having chicken and dumplings tonight.”

“We are. I'm cutting this beef up into three or four smaller pieces so that it cooks through better,” Mavis explained. “It's the brisket, a pretty tough piece, so it will need extra cooking. I'll let it simmer through the evening, and by tomorrow it should be nice and tender, ready to serve.”

Mavis was right, of course. Cassie just learned something else. When you have a tough piece of meat, cook it longer.

One thing Cassie now knew how to do was peel potatoes and scrape carrots. She busied herself preparing the vegetables for supper. Finally Gretchen returned. There seemed to be less milk in the pail than when Ransom milked.

Someone was knocking at the front door. Gretchen hustled out to answer. She called, “Come in! Mor! Chief's here and Runs Like a Deer.” Gretchen herded them all into the kitchen.

Runs Like a Deer untied her headscarf and scrunched it together in her hands. “Micah and I thank you for the cookies.”

“You're certainly welcome. Please sit! Have some gingerbread. I'm afraid it's from yesterday, but I just put another pan to the oven. We'll have fresh gingerbread soon.” Mavis set the plate in the middle of the table and settled down on a chair across from their guests. Leaning forward, her smile was as warm as a summer sun. “Now first, I am so glad to see you. Second, what can we do for you?”

Chief sat for a moment, apparently thinking what to say.
“First, make sure I'm welcome. If not, please say and no hard feelings.”

“John. Cassie and I and the boys too have been praying that you were safe and that you would come back. We want you to consider this your home. You mean so much to Cassie and to us—you have ever since the beginning.”

He considered this a moment and nodded. “Thank you. That's that one. Next, Micah says why don't we use that slab siding up there to build a lean-to onto the cabin. Rock up a second chimney against the first. Depending on weather, we could have it done in a couple months. They have cabin, and I live in lean-to.”

Mavis was beaming, just beaming. And Cassie was sure she must be too. Chief was making plans to stay—just what she'd asked God for.

Cassie sat down beside Runs Like a Deer. “Chief, are you sure you're going to be all right? You seem so tired.”

The corners of his mouth moved up a bit in an almost smile. “I'm good, Cassie. I'm good.”

He didn't look good, but Cassie was not going to say that and contradict her old friend. His cheeks were pinched in, and he appeared almost gaunt, and his hair was thinner.

“No.” Mavis was saying no to Chief? “You are welcome here under any circumstance, John. We've made that clear, but I want you to know you are being cruel.”

His mouth dropped open. “Cruel?”

“You are loved. You know that. Love also means
caring about
. You are not well. You know it. We all can see it. And yet you are keeping secrets from the people who care about you most. That is cruel.”

He stared at her for long, long moments. His voice then was quiet, nearly a whisper. “Loved.” He nodded, paused again. “When I went back, I sought my son. He was gone, no one knew where. The elders, the old people, nearly all dead. No one knew
me anymore. No one wanted me to be there, to eat their food. I got sick; no one cared. They said, ‘Go somewhere else.' What they meant was, ‘Go off and die. We can't feed you.'”

“That's terrible!” Mavis looked aghast.

He shrugged. “That is how it is on reservation. If you are no use, you leave and go die. So I left. Come here. Still sick but not as much. Summer will be good.” Suddenly he pointed at Cassie's arm. “Getting better?”

So that was all he would say. It was enough. Cassie said, “You saw when you were throwing birds for me. It still gets tired and trembly real fast, especially when I'm shooting high. I need a lot of practice to strengthen it, but with this weather it's hard to get the time in.”

His head bobbed in a sort-of nod. Thoughtfully he stood up and went over to pick up the broom in the corner. He carefully eyed the hanging lamp over the table and moved well away, near the front room door. He held the broom as if it were a rifle, with the handle end to his shoulder and the broom-straw end out to where the muzzle would be.

He swung his makeshift rifle up and said, “Bang.” He lowered the “muzzle” to the ground, mimicked seeing the next bird high overhead to his left, and swung the broom up. “Bang.” He grasped a handful of the broom straw. “Put this heavy end out from you, more like a gun barrel, practice swinging anytime.” He almost smiled again. “Use less shells that way.”

Cassie laughed out loud. “Of course. What a great idea.”

But now boots were stomping on the porch. The furniture makers had returned.

Mavis hopped to her feet. “Oh good! Here are the boys. You two will stay for supper, I hope. Chicken and dumplings, and we turned out fresh bread this morning.” As the men entered, she grinned. “Very good! Here's Micah too. Ransom, would you bring in more wood, please?”

So this was what a real home felt like. Cassie felt a sudden wash of joy. Friends and family gathered at the table, everyone . . . No, not quite everyone. She wondered about Lucas. Were he and Betsy doing all right? And how painful this must be for Mavis with her son absent from the family table. Being a family in a real home was far more complex than Cassie had ever imagined.

After supper, when everyone gathered around the fireplace for dessert and coffee, Mavis opened the letter from Jesse. Cassie knew this was her youngest son, and he was in college, hoping to one day become a doctor. That was all she knew. She had never seen a photograph. If Ransom, Lucas, and Gretchen had become like her own brothers and sister, this was Cassie's other brother. What an odd thought.

The young man did write a nice letter and, as Cassie saw over Mavis's shoulder, in a small, neat hand. He was sorry he wouldn't be able to help with guests next summer. He thought it was a fine idea, but he was going to school right on through the summer. He was not happy with Lucas but happy for the union of the two ranches—he wrote fondly of his time spent as a boy at Hudsons' and Arnetts'—and the furniture endeavors. He mentioned how good their father was at furniture building. He sounded just like the kind of man Mavis would have raised.

As soon as their guests-that-were-family left, Cassie hurried to her room with the broom to try Chief's stratagem. She swung the “muzzle” high. Bang. Lowered it to the ground and then swung it high in another direction.

Over the next weeks, Cassie practiced in her room and out on the porch. When she very nearly broke a window on the porch, she went back to practicing in her room. Her arm still got overly tired, still began to tremble after a while, but the while stretched out longer and longer each day.

Chief set up targets for her, made suggestions, and sometimes just sat on the corral rail watching as she worked. He hammered three eight-penny nails halfway into a corral post, and she drove them home with three shots. It began to feel more and more like old times when Adam Lockwood had introduced his daughter to the audience and she'd drawn gasps and murmurs and oohs and aahs with her sharpshooting.