Tracie Peterson - [Heirs of Montana 04] (14 page)

“I was particularly moved by today’s sermon. I’m sure you could say the same.”

Dianne frowned. “It was quite in keeping with what I’ve come to expect on Sunday.”

“I thought it particularly meaningful, especially the part about the hypocrites,” she said, as if her words should hold some special meaning for Dianne. In truth it did. The pastor had spoken of Christians who were hypocritical. People whose words did not match their actions.

“I do agree with you on that matter, Mrs. Weatherbee. I’ve known a great many people who were happy to proclaim themselves to be living by the Bible’s teachings but whose lives showed it to be to the contrary.”

Mrs. Weatherbee’s head bobbed up and down so rapidly that Dianne feared the woman might actually hurt herself. “I know it must have been convicting.”

Dianne smiled. “I’m sure there are people who are positively trembling in fear as they leave the service today.”

Mrs. Weatherbee frowned. “Yes. Well, let us hope that the right people are stirred to obedience.”

Dianne nodded. “Indeed. Now, if you don’t mind, I must get home and help put on lunch.” Mrs. Weatherbee said nothing more. Dianne knew her intention had been to convince Dianne of her need to repent, but honestly, she felt no guilt in that area. The attitude she had now was mainly one of staying out of everyone’s way. Her mother-in-law said very little to her on any given day except to criticize. Still, Dianne was determined to live out her sentence, and to be sure, that’s what it was. A sentence of time to serve. Nothing more. There was no joy in this situation. No heartwarming moments spent with her mother-in-law. No nights gathered around the fire to hear stories of when Cole was young. There was nothing to hold Dianne here … nothing but her husband’s wishes.

Exiting the church, the pastor greeted Dianne with what resembled a pained expression. Perhaps his gout was acting up again or perhaps he just didn’t like having to deal with that woman Mary Selby’s son had married.

“Good day to you, Pastor Bruening. Thank you for the service.” She could offer nothing more complimentary.

“May God bless you, Mrs. Selby.”

“He has many times over,” Dianne replied and hurried her children along before anything else could be said.

Cole frowned as they approached. “I wondered where you were. We’ve been waiting to go home.”

“It’s completely inconsiderate,” Mary Selby pronounced in judgment.

Dianne held her tongue and helped the children into the buggy. Lia began coughing, but Dianne knew there was little she could do to help the child. Cole helped her into the buggy, and Dianne took Lia in her arms.

“Poor baby,” she cooed. “When we get home I’ll get some compresses for your chest.”

“You indulge that child entirely too much,” Mary Selby said from her place beside Cole.

Dianne gently pounded on Lia’s back to help her breathe better. It seemed this action always helped. “I would hardly think,” Dianne said softly, “that caring for a sick child would be considered indulgence by anyone.”

“She’s spoiled. She merely puts on these shows of illness to get attention,” Cole’s mother said. “I’ve heard about asthma before. It’s mostly a state of emotion that children work themselves into. When they don’t get their way, they put themselves into a state of asthma.”

“I tend to disregard rumors told by people less knowledgeable than the doctor.”

“A doctor was the one who said this,” Mary answered curtly. “You’d do well to punish her—send her to bed without dinner.”

“Mother, I hardly think Lia is faking her sickness,” Cole finally interceded. “The doctor said it’s quite dangerous. I don’t think a child her age could fool a doctor.”

“Perhaps not, but there are other ways she’s overindulged.”

“Could be,” he said, not defending or disregarding.

Dianne felt her anger stir, but exhaustion with these continued arguments kept her from bringing it to the surface. No doubt it was best this way. Her emotional state had run the full gambit from fierce intensity to fading resignation.

Dianne was grateful that the boys remained silent throughout the ride. Lia’s coughing abated somewhat, and Dianne had managed to keep from arguing when her mother-in-law made snide comments. It wasn’t easy, but despair seemed to make it less important.

At home Dianne hurried her children upstairs, saw to their change of clothes, then went to the bedroom to ready herself for getting dinner on the table. When they had first arrived in Kansas, Dianne had helped Mary prepare the Sunday meal, but Mary never appreciated her efforts and had come to leave the entire responsibility on Dianne’s shoulders in order to spend her Sunday afternoons visiting with Cole. Dianne, in turn, had taken to fixing most of the food the night before, making it necessary to just warm things up. It was her own little rebellion, and even when she was exhausted on Saturday night, Dianne would put in the extra work hours just to make sure that Mary’s discussion time alone with Cole was limited.

Dianne hated herself for acting this way, but it was her only means of defense. Mary Selby seemed to be doing everything within her power to pull Cole away from her and the children. Dianne didn’t even bother to talk to Cole about it anymore. He always accused her of misunderstanding the situation, of believing his mother to have some kind of evil intent.

“It might not be evil,” Dianne muttered as she reheated the chicken and dumplings, “but it’s definitely selfish.”

Ten minutes into warming the food, the children joined her for their chores. Micah and Lia set the dining room table while Luke retrieved extra water for the stove’s reservoir. This would be heated sufficiently by the time the meal was over and would give them enough water to wash the dinner dishes. Meanwhile, John helped open two jars of green beans and one of peas. Dianne had already decided she would serve them without garnish, simply warmed with butter and a touch of salt. She took them from John and quickly poured them into separate pans on the back of the stove. It wouldn’t take long before they were hot.

Peeking into the oven, Dianne saw that the biscuits were nearly brown. There was also a peach cobbler that was crisping nicely and would be ready about the time they’d finished with the dumplings.

“Table’s set, Mama,” Micah said as he and Lia came into the kitchen.

“Good. Pour some water for each person and then let Papa know we’re ready to eat.”

Dianne pulled the biscuits from the oven and arranged them in a serving basket and covered them with a cloth. “Lia, take the butter and jelly dishes to the table.”

Lia didn’t say a word but did as she was told. Dianne could tell that her daughter wasn’t feeling well, but Lia had learned to bear it well. The poor child had heard every word her grandmother had ranted about asthma and the child only pretending to be sick. How could a grandmother do that? Talk like that in front of a child—a sick child. The doctor had even told Dianne that children died from this condition. Perhaps it was time Dianne shared that news with Mary Selby.

After the food was arranged on the table, Dianne took her seat and directed the children to do likewise. Mary studied the table critically.

“I see there are no pickles.”

“I wasn’t certain that anyone would want pickles. Especially since there really isn’t anything to eat them with,” Dianne replied. “If you like, however, I can fetch some.”

“Goodness, no. This is already taking a good portion of my winter reserves. I won’t waste additional food.”

Dianne looked to Cole. She wanted so much to mention that if they weren’t forced to live at the farm, Mother Selby wouldn’t need to worry about the food reserves. But she said nothing. Instead, she waited for her husband to offer grace.

Cole’s prayer was simple and to the point. There was little passion in it, but at least he was willing to offer it.

They ate in silence. The children had learned to say nothing at the dinner table. Early in their stay, Mary Selby had told Cole emphatically that children should be silent in gatherings that included adults. Dianne knew her husband didn’t approve or agree, but he also refused to defend his family. Dianne had long ago given up arguing the point. Mealtimes used to be a great pleasure at the ranch. The family would gather and discuss the day’s work to be done or what had been accomplished. The children would join in talking about their studies or what they’d seen down at the creek.

The dumpling stuck in Dianne’s throat as she let the memory wash over her. How happy she had been. Could it really be possible that she might never enjoy such a life again?
I can’t let that happen. I have to fight this lethargy. I have to get my family home
.

She looked across the table to her husband. “How is the harvest going?”

Cole seemed surprised that she’d actually taken interest in the farm. “Despite the drought, it hasn’t been that bad. Ma should realize a good profit.”

“That will enable us to plant more acreage come spring,” Mary said.

Dianne looked at Cole, hoping he might broach the subject of their return to Montana in the spring. But he didn’t have a chance. Luke piped up instead, breaking the rule of silence.

“We’re going home in the spring.”

Everyone stopped eating and looked at him. His siblings seemed astonished that he had dared to talk at Grandmother Selby’s table, while Cole looked embarrassed. Mary Selby, however, narrowed her eyes and looked to Dianne instead of Luke.

“You’ve been filling his head with lies, haven’t you?”

The accusation was the only spark Dianne needed. “I’ve told my children no lies. Their father said we would stay through the winter, and so we will. We will return home in the spring.”

Mary looked crestfallen as she glanced from Dianne to Cole.

“Surely this isn’t the truth.”

Cole drew a deep breath. “Ma, let’s not argue over dinner. I have responsibilities back in Montana. I’ve never said otherwise.”

Mary put her napkin on the table. Drawing her handkerchief from her pocket, she pressed it to her eyes. “I can’t believe you’d desert me. You know I’ve come to depend on you.”

“We depend on him too,” Dianne said, unable to hold her tongue, “but that seems of little importance to anyone here.”

“This is just too much for me. I’m going to lie down.” She moved quickly to exit the room before anyone could try to stop her.

Dianne stared at Cole, wondering if he might comment on his mother’s reaction, but instead he focused back on the meal.

“Papa, we
are
going home in the spring, aren’t we?” Luke asked.

Cole looked up. “Son, we’ll do our best.”

The answer left Dianne chilled to the core of her soul. There was no affirming promise—no positive response. Just a noncommittal
“We’ll do our best.”
To Dianne it sounded an awful lot like no.

Cole couldn’t bear the look on his wife’s face. Knowing the food would only sour in his stomach if he ate another bite, he pushed back from the table. “I need to check on something in the barn.”

He knew Dianne would follow him out, so he turned to add, “I’d like to be alone.”

He hated the rift that had grown between them over the past five years. He knew he had put off going back to the ranch, and he knew it hurt her. Still, it was hard to explain to Dianne that he feared the ranch. Feared starting over. What if he were unable to make it all work? What if he failed miserably? He’d known little about ranching when he’d first arrived in Montana, but now that he did know more, it was almost more terrifying.

I can never give her what she had,
he thought as he pulled back the door to the barn. The musty, sweet smell of new hay filled the air. Cole had worked hard to get that hay harvested. There was a sense of pride that filled him at the sight of his accomplishment. The drought had lessened the crop to be sure, but he still felt confident there would be more than enough to see them through the winter.

Climbing up into the loft, Cole took a seat on an old wooden stump. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered aloud.

It made him ache within to see his family in its present state. Dianne had lost a great deal of weight, and there was a perpetual sadness to her. It was like watching something precious die. He’d wanted to talk to her about it a million times, but many of the times when he’d started to approach her, she’d said something caustic and his compassion and concern had gone right out the window. Other times she just seemed too depressed … and her only solution was to return to the land she loved. When Cole would try to explain why he didn’t feel they could do that, Dianne would nod knowingly and give him a look that suggested he’d just signed her death warrant. Neither response was one he could deal with, so most of the time he avoided her altogether.

The truth was, he wasn’t much happier here on the farm than she was. He didn’t like farming. He didn’t like harvest time. The wheat rust burned and irritated his eyes and skin for days on end. The corn stalks were scratchy and gave him a constant itch until bath time. The humidity had abated somewhat, but the fierce heat of August had lingered into September, and neither was to his liking. Kansas farming simply wasn’t in his heart.

“But neither is failing to rebuild the Diamond V to its former glory.” In Cole’s mind he could only imagine the constant comparisons to the old way Uncle Bram had set things up and the new way in which Cole would rebuild. It was the reason he’d happily turned over the plans to Koko and George. When George had suggested he and Jamie could put together a cabin for Cole and his family, it was easy to say yes.

But now … If he returned to the ranch and tried to rebuild, he would probably make Dianne more happy than sad. But what of his mother? He could hardly leave her here on the farm, and on the few occasions when he’d actually tried to approach the idea of selling, she’d quickly refused to consider it.

I feel torn in two, God. I want to do right by my wife, but my mother is alone and needs help. I feel bad for the way my children have had to endure life here, but at the same time, I know they’ll be stronger for it someday. I need to know what to do, and nothing is coming clear
.