Place to Belong, a (30 page)

He moved off, congratulating everyone, not just the top finishers.

She helped Mavis bag the guns. “Make absolutely certain they're all unloaded.”

“I still feel bad about that mistake.”

“I hope you get over that. God's will prevailed.”

“It certainly did.”

Here came Mr. Tamworth, extending his hand. “Fine work, Miss Lockwood. Ty was right—you're an up-and-coming star.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tamworth. Mavis, may I present Mr. Tamworth. Mr. Tamworth, my second, Mavis Engstrom.”

“Delighted! Do you accompany her to all her meets?”

Mavis shook his hand. “I'll probably do so frequently. You can't argue with success.”

“Success indeed.” Mr. Tamworth handed Cassie the cashier's check. “I trust we'll meet again soon.” And he went off to distribute the other checks.

Cassie passed her check to Mavis.

Mavis's eyes grew wide. “Oh my.” She picked up Cassie's
gun bag. “I think we can afford a hansom back to the hotel, don't you?”

“I think so.”

They were giggling like schoolgirls again as they left the arena.

Mavis suddenly lost her happy grin. “Look who's coming.”

Cassie turned. Jason Talbot came hustling over, glowing. “Cassie! Now can Uncle Jason have that hug?”

Cassie really was emboldened. She said simply, “No.” And she meant it. She didn't even say, “I'm sorry.”

He wilted momentarily and then recovered his happy mien. “Your shooting was perfect! Just perfect! Tell me. Are you driving nails into boards, like you used to?”

“Now and then.”

“Good afternoon, Jason.” Mavis didn't seem particularly thrilled to see him either.

He tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, fair Mavis. Will you two ladies join me for dinner?”

“I'm sorry.” Mavis did not sound particularly sorry. “We already have a dinner engagement.”

“Oh? Who?”

Cassie replied, “A friend and colleague.” And there she stopped. He seemed so like the old days, smiling and glad-handing everyone. She supposed she should trust him. After all, he'd sent her off with the wagon, horses, livestock, even George. He had given her ownership of them all. He had demonstrated that he had her best interests at heart even as his business was collapsing. He'd earned a fair hearing.

She couldn't do it.

“Well then, perhaps drinks afterward. You're at the Cattlemen's tonight yet. Right?”

“I believe our evening will be booked.” Cassie would book it with something. He should know that she and Mavis didn't drink.

Suddenly Jason raised an arm and waved. “George! Over here!”

Out by the gate, George Sands changed direction and came striding up, his gun bag over his shoulder. “My congratulations, Miss Lockwood. It was a delight shooting against you.”

“You were doing so well, Mr. Sands, I fully expected you to win. Next time.”

He smiled. “Next time. Actually, I usually do win, just not when up against you and Ty.”

Jason said expansively, “Cassie and I go way back, since her birth. Her parents and I were close friends.” He reached out suddenly, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and drew her in close in a sideways hug.

She stiffened, rigid. How could he, in public like this? Her face must have betrayed her feelings. George looked at her face, at Jason, and frowned. Jason stepped away.

“See you, Jason. Safe travel returning home, Miss Lockwood.” George tipped his hat and walked off.

“Thank you,” she said to his departing back.

A hansom pulled up alongside them. It was not the young man who had conveyed them this morning. Cassie almost wished it were.

Jason whipped off his hat and swept it toward the step into the carriage. “Ladies?”

“You go on to the hotel, Mr. Talbot. We're not done looking about downtown yet.” Cassie watched his face fall. Well, that was the way she felt.

“Are ye going, sir?” the driver asked.

“Yes. Ladies, I'll see you later. If not here, then in Hill City. I wouldn't miss the show in Hill City for anything.” He climbed aboard the hansom and waved over his shoulder, a benign smile still in place.

Cassie turned to Mavis. “I'm sorry, but I just couldn't.”

“I'm glad you handled it that way, and I totally agree with you. Say, the trolley line is only three blocks over. Let's repeat our new experience.”

“Let's!”

Riding on the trolley was fun. Cassie was beginning to really like Denver.

They arrived at the hotel in nearly no time and strolled across the lobby to the staircase. As they were climbing the stairs to their room, they saw Jason enter the front door. He looked preoccupied and failed to notice them.

“So the trolley is faster than the hansom.” Mavis's smile could definitely be called smug.

“And only costs two cents.”

Every time they looked at each other, the chuckles burst forth again. When they reached their room, Cassie got the giggles so bad it took two tries to get the key in the hole and turn it. Once inside, she dropped her gun case and collapsed backward on the bed.

“I haven't laughed like that in a long time.”

Mavis sat down in the wing-backed chair. “You know, if I never see Jason Talbot again, it will be too soon.”

“He'll be at Hill City.”

“I know. I wonder what we can do to discourage him.”

Cassie shook her head. Should she trust him or not? What was the right thing to do?

F
arm wagon? Hansom cab? Wagon, cab? Cab, wagon? Mavis couldn't decide which she liked better. The cabs were well sprung, providing a very comfortable ride. But then, city streets were so smooth compared to the rutted track they were rattling along on now. On the other hand, she could not imagine using a hansom to haul those dead wolves up to Runs Like a Deer to skin, or fitting a cab with runners to handle the snow, or bringing a big load of melons or apples into town to sell. For a practical person, and Mavis was certainly practical, this farm wagon was the way to go. They hit a sudden bump, and she almost slid off the seat. Make that
usually
the way to go.

They rounded the last curve, and her familiar valley opened out before them, so green and spacious. Home. They'd had a lovely and exciting trip, and their time of sightseeing had been absolutely delightful. It made her feel as young as Cassie. But now Ransom had picked them up at the train station and she was home, her most favorite place in the world to be.

Squeezed between her and Ransom, Cassie sighed contentedly. “It's so beautiful, everything about it.”

Ransom cocked a boot up against the dashboard and let the horses have their heads. “The lettuce and onions survived the snow and are all perked up again. We're eating off 'em. The starts you replanted just before you left are doing fine, and we're going to put them out soon. And I hired three young fellows to help out around here.”

“That's wonderful!” Mavis felt so good to be home. “We're gone two weeks and the ranch prospers. I'm going to have to think about that. Maybe I should retire.”

“Don't you dare!” But then Ransom obviously realized that she was joking. “You had me going there. The employees are the three oldest brothers from the Stilson place over beyond Argus. Reverend Brandenburg says they're good workers and they can use the money.”

“Stilson. They have how many children?”

“Reverend Brandenburg says nine. Used to be eleven but two died. The youngest brother I hired, Zeke, is only fourteen, doesn't have his growth yet, but he's a willing worker and he's real handy for barn chores. Good milker. His hands are so small he has to turn his thumbs under when he milks, but he strips the cows real good. Gretchen is tickled pink.”

“I can imagine.” Mavis smiled inside and out. All winter Ransom had been so concerned about finances. Now here he was hiring help. Like his father, he was extremely conservative with money. He would never hire if he didn't have the means to do it.

He continued, “The oldest, Isaiah, is a good carpenter, so I have him working at the furniture barn. Oh, and Arnett and Chief are living over at Arnett's house, so they don't have to come and go every day. I figure as long as Chief is there, we don't have to worry about Arnett.”

There was a difference here, a profound difference. Mavis could feel it, see it, but what was it?

Ransom rambled on. “Figure we'll hold off branding until
our pretend ranchers get here, give 'em something to do. The reverend says Isaiah's father is a good general carpenter if you can keep him off the bottle, so maybe we can hire him to work on the bunkhouse.”

“The bunkhouse?” Mavis ought to quit woolgathering and pay closer attention to Ransom. “You said a couple months ago that we couldn't afford to build another bunkhouse this year.”

“We're gonna call it a guesthouse. Same thing. Porter wrote that plenty of people are signing up, and he's assigning them to ranches. Won't be the queen's palace, of course. Sink inside, privy out back. Got the privies dug already, because the men building the bunkhouse will need them.”

That was it! Mavis hit on it. Ransom, usually so taciturn, was talking up a storm. And either he had suddenly become loose about spending money or he had money to spend. And that was making all the difference in the world for him. “How are we paying for all this?”

“Mr. Porter bought quite a bit of my furniture. We're working on that order now. And we got part of the deposit that the pretend ranchers put down to stay with us. Cassie? You're going to set up a bank account for your winnings, right?”

“Oh. I never thought about that. I suppose I ought to now that I'm bringing in some money again.” She almost sounded worried. “There are so many things I never think of.”

“The bank tells me a woman can't have an account of her own. Don't know if that's true, but it's this bank's policy, so I'll have to sign with you. I hope you'll understand that the money is yours, and I won't have any part in it.”

Her voice bobbed a little when they hit another rut. “So you've been looking into it.”

“Rearranging finances a little, yeah. I figure we'll keep the guest money separate from the working ranch account and the furniture account, three accounts. Four with yours. Easier to
see what's making money and what isn't and easier to keep the books.”

Mavis's heart was singing.
Thank you, Lord! This is what Ransom wanted and needed! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

They rattled into the yard. Benny and Othello turned themselves inside out barking their welcome. Ransom hopped down and came around to give her a hand out of the wagon. “Welcome home, Mor.”

Was he that happy to see her? Or was he that happy that she'd be back in the kitchen cooking? At the risk of sounding swell-headed, she'd guess the latter.

She would let Ransom and Cassie attend the bags. She immediately walked around to her garden. It was looking in fine shape, considering that just when it went in, a foot of snow got dumped on it. The potatoes were up, already getting bushy and green. The onion patch was looking real good. And the whole plot was well tilled. No weeds, no baked spots.

Gretchen's voice behind her called, “Here she is, back here!” Gretchen came running up and hugged her mightily. “Welcome home, Mor!”

“Thank you. You took fine care of the garden. Thank you.”

“Thank Micah. He keeps it tilled. He decided since you give them garden produce so much, it's the least he can do.” She giggled. “I had to show him everything. He knew absolutely nothing about gardening. Can you imagine?”

“I can. Denver is a whole city full of people who have probably never seen a garden.” Mavis walked back toward the house but stopped. They had already laid out the foundation for the guesthouse under the trees. A pleasant spot, and the barn smells would tend to blow away from it, not toward it. Three outhouses sat behind it, ready for business. Look at the stack of milled timbers! And she was gone only two weeks!

The kitchen looked pretty clean, although tomorrow or the next day she was going to go into the corners and behind the stove with a wet mop. Gretchen had supper cooking. Mavis lifted the lid. Chicken and dumplings! And there was an apple pie in the oven.

Ransom came in with a load of stove wood.

She smiled. “You did a good job, Gretchen. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Jenna helped me.”

“Hah.” Ransom smirked. “Yesterday she and Jenna were playing Parcheesi, and I said, ‘You know, Mor's coming back tomorrow.' She got this horrified look on her face, I mean scared-like. ‘Tomorrow!' and they real fast started cleaning up the kitchen. Took 'em some time too. It was pretty messy.”

“Ransom! That's not true!” Gretchen glanced at Mavis. “Well, mostly not true.”

Mavis sat down at the table. “Is there coffee made?”

“There will be in a minute.” Gretchen went to the stove.

There was much to think about here. Much had changed, and Mavis was going to have to ponder what was going on. Later. “Ransom, when do you start the carpentry on the bunkhouse?”

He sat down beside her. Did he look younger? He did—he actually looked younger. She had never guessed what a burden their finances had been on him.

“We'll put the framing up in the next three days. Oh, and we bought another donkey engine. Arnett's idea, and he's right. We figure his steam engine might give out one of these days, and then we'd be stuck. We use it for the furniture, the bunkhouse construction, for everything. They're ripping siding over at the furniture barn now for the bunkhouse. Both engines are over there. We'll bring one of them over here when we really get going on the carpentry.”

There was a lilt to his voice that she'd never heard before.

Cassie came in the back door and sat down beside Mavis.
“George and Wind Dancer and the others are doing just fine. We almost have a buffalo factory going with all those buffalo calves.”

“I was going to talk to you about that.” Ransom accepted a coffee mug from Gretchen. “We're going to have more buffalo than we need, even when you use them in your Wild West show. I was thinking buffalo steak might be a hit with our pretend ranchers, especially when they have live buffalo right outside their window. That is, if you wouldn't mind selling one of them for butchering. I was thinking that two-year bull, before George starts getting worried about him.”

“They're guests, Ransom, not pretend ranchers,” Gretchen chided.

“I agree, let's butcher that bull before he starts giving George trouble.” Even Cassie was smiling. “And the calves will be young enough. Folks will love to see them when we display them at the show. You should have seen the crowds that would gather around the buffalo pen, just oohing and aahing. I bet some of them paid the admission just to see the buffalo calves.”

Mavis frowned. “People paid admission to enter the show grounds?”

“Yes.” Cassie's voice was hesitant, as if Mavis had asked if rain were wet.

“Mm.”

“Do you think there was something wrong with that?”

“No, not at all.” Mavis would do her thinking later. It was time to get back into the rhythm of the ranch. “I realize it's a little early, but I'm about ready for supper.”

“And supper is almost ready for you.” Gretchen pulled the pie out of the oven. “Let me warm up the bread—it's yesterday's.”

Everything was rolling along as usual. They had money to work with, and Ransom, Gretchen, Cassie—they all seemed happy. Mavis herself could not be happier.

Construction on the new bunkhouse (“Not bunkhouse! It's a
guesthouse
!” Gretchen would fume) began the very next day. Furniture making was temporarily halted as Micah, Chief, Ransom, the three Stilson boys, Arnett, Runs Like a Deer, Cassie, and Mavis all went to work putting basic framing together. The sides were laid out beside the foundation. That part was done by dinnertime of the third day.

With a pencil and scratch paper, Arnett explained how they would get the bottom of the framing up on the foundation, raise the top part, and fasten it all together. Mavis watched the Stilson boys as Arnett showed everyone what to do. They were paying close attention—even the youngest, Ezekiel. He might be a bit short, but he worked like any man. Ransom had chosen well.

Friday morning, Mavis and Gretchen were cleaning up the last of breakfast when here came the Hendersons. It was the whole family too, not just Jenna or her mother. They tied up at the front door.

“Oh dear.” Mavis looked at them out the window. “As much as I would love to sit and visit, we have that work to do.”

“They're not here to visit. They're going to help raise the guesthouse. Ransom invited them last Sunday.” Gretchen hung up her towel. “You know, when we get the sides up vertical and spike them together, like Arnett was explaining.”

“Ransom has it planned out in that much detail?”

“Mor!” Gretchen sounded disgusted. “Ransom plans out in detail how he's gonna hold his fork at dinner.” She went out to greet their working guests.

An hour later, Mavis and Cassie had abandoned the kitchen to drive spikes when another wagon pulled into the yard. It was JD McKittrick's delivery wagon with JD himself handling the lines. He drove over to their worksite and climbed down.

Mavis put down her hammer and walked over to greet him. “Good to see you, JD.”