Place to Belong, a Read online

  A huge cookstove dominated the kitchen, with cupboards all around and a pantry with a food safe beside the frost-covered window. The rectangular oak table would seat eight easily and looked like it had for years, decorated with dents and burns from hot pots, the chairs huddling close for company. Arnett had the stove fired up and already fighting to inhale the cold. A window, cut in the wall over the sink, with red-and-white-checked curtains, looked out onto the back porch.

  Three bedrooms opened off the hallway, one of them turned into a sewing room. Cassie stared at the machine. All this was to be hers? She turned to Mavis, who, along with Gretchen, was already collecting linens and rugs that needed washing. “Are you sure Arnett doesn’t need to give some of these things to his children?”

  Mavis shook her head. “He’s not even sure if all of them are still alive. We know two have gone on to heaven. I have a hard time believing they’d never written to him, if they were still alive. At least when their mother died. But the one that went to California to dig for gold, he just disappeared. Mighty hard on Arnett and Hazel.”

  She glanced around the sewing room. “That Hazel, she did well at everything she set her hand to do. She made quilts for new brides and for new babies too. She was my best friend. Sometimes it is still hard to believe she is gone. But I know she would be thrilled to know that someone else is going to love her house and make a home for a young family.” Mavis took Cassie’s hand. “I sense the turmoil inside you, and I want you to know you can always ask me anything you want to, and I will give you an honest answer.”

  “Th-thank you.” I am not ready for this, really I’m not. God above, am I making the mistake of my life, or is this really what you want me to do?

  11

  After they’d returned from Dan Arnett’s place, the girls had washed up the dinner dishes while Mavis got supper underway. With the stew simmering on the stove, Mavis had finally found some time to sit in her chair. “Lord, we sure need your guidance here.” Mavis stared at the Bible in her lap.

  “Mor?”

  “I’m in here, in my chair.”

  Ransom ambled in from the kitchen. With a glance at the fire burning down in the fireplace, he added the one hunk of wood that was left in the iron rack at the side of the raised rock hearth. Then without another word, he picked up the canvas sling and headed for the front porch to bring in wood. After three trips that left the rack full and the fire roaring, he sat down on the hearth, facing his mother.

  “What’s bothering you?” she asked.

  “How do you know something is bothering me?”

  “I’m your mother, remember. God gives mothers an extra sense for our families. You used to accuse me of having eyes in the back of my head.”

  “One time when you were taking a rare nap on the couch, I tiptoed up and studied the back of your head, looking for those eyes.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.” He shook his head. “No extra eyes there. That was a real puzzlement, because you said you had them. And I always believed you when you said something. I think that was the beginning of my education.”

  Mavis smiled, thought a moment, and the smile widened. “Ah, Ransom, you have always been such a truthful boy and now a man. So what is causing that furrow in your forehead?”

  “What usually causes me concern?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Usually it is the money situation.” She paused and thought again. “Or Lucas.”

  Ransom rolled his shoulders and leaned into the heat. “Can’t do anything about the first at the moment, so it is the latter by default.”

  Mavis studied her eldest son. Change had never been easy for him. He was the one who took it the hardest when Ivar died, and yet he was the one who remembered the drinking years. Ivar had never been easy on his boys, expecting a great deal from them, both in action and character. As the eldest, Ransom endured more. But of the three sons, Ransom was most like his father—determined, dependable, a deep thinker, and one who always stood by his word.

  While Jesse had done his share of the chores, he’d been the studious one. He always preferred reading to hunting or fishing, or ranching, for that matter. Except he loved making animals, and all living things broken, well again. His curiosity had become some of the family’s shared memories.

  But Lucas now, perhaps they had spoiled him because he made them laugh so much. He loved to make people laugh and have a good time. In her mind she’d often compared him to a butterfly, flitting around the garden, touching down here and there but never staying long.

  “So what has Lucas done, or not done, now?”

  “Well, he’s gone to Hill City to deliver that elk and talk with Porter, but all he needs to do is let one of us know. In advance would be good.”

  “In other words you planned what you would do today and were counting on his help.”

  “Yep, but I should have known better. I just thought he’d take the elk tomorrow. I even thought of going with him.”

  “Do you need something in Hill City?”

  “Well, Porter so admired this furniture Far built that I thought to see if he might be wanting to purchase some. Arnett and I are talking seriously about turning that barn on his place into a woodworking shop. We’d use the steam engine to power tools. He thinks he can pretty much make or collect the basics.”

  Mavis nodded. “That surely bears thinking about.”

  “Says he has some downed hardwood trees that might be cured enough to use.”

  “That Arnett. Like you, he’s always thinking.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “What are we going to do about Arnett’s land idea? Seems to me there needs to be a provision of some kind in case one of his children shows up.”

  “Or one of his grandchildren?”

  She nodded. Their lives had sure changed when Adam’s daughter showed up. This was going to be one of those wonderful kinds of stories to tell the grandchildren. Someday there would be grandchildren running around this house, riding the horses, playing with the baby pigs, planting the garden with her. Ivar would have been a good grandpa.

  “You’re thinking something special.” Ransom turned his head slightly to the side, watching her.

  “I was thinking of Ivar and Adam sitting up there in heaven, talking about what they see going on here.”

  “You think they really can do that? See the world, I mean?”

  “Well, there’s surely scriptural backing for it.”

  Ransom’s right eyebrow rose. “I guess. Then Far is certainly shaking his head over Lucas’s antics.” He stared at his hands, clasped between his knees. “Back to the contract thing. We will take it to a lawyer for sure. Maybe he can write in such a provision. But I get the feeling Arnett is not happy with his children, if they are still alive.” He closed his eyes and rocked a bit. “That has to be so hard, never knowing.”

  “It’s bad enough knowing.”

  “I need to talk with Arnett more too. Putting these two ranches together will be a good thing for sure. And his willingness to share his sawmill . . . Mor, sometimes all this just overwhelms me. His generosity, I guess.”

  “He and your father always worked well together. I think Arnett used to dream about one of you boys marrying one of his daughters, but then two of them died and one of them left. I know Hazel and I thought about that at times. Just seemed like a good thing.”

  Ransom pushed himself to his feet. “Is Gretchen helping Cassie?”

  Daughters. Yes. “Or Cassie helping Gretchen. Those two have been holed up in the bedroom for some time now. I’ve not seen hide nor hair of them, but I hear them laugh every once in a while. And the sewing machine treadle sings along. What are you going to do?”

  “Go talk with Arnett, I guess. I thought he’d be up here at the house.”

  “We’ll have supper in about an hour.”

  “Think I’ll split wood for a while, then.”

  Mavis nodded. Most wood got split around there when the two sons were squabbling, or when Ransom w
as working something out. She found making bread accomplished the same for her. One could work out all kinds of feelings when kneading bread. She heard another hoot of laughter from the bedroom. What a gift for Gretchen Cassie had been. What a gift for all of them, even though Ransom was still a bit of a doubter.

  She turned the pages in her Bible, seeking the wisdom promised. Her gaze stopped in Joshua. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. That made her think of a familiar verse from Jeremiah. She flipped to the right place. For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

  Nothing happened without His knowledge, and all along she’d believed He had sent Cassie to them. So it always came down to how to plan within His plans, work in the direction He wanted them to go. So was it God’s wish for the ranches to merge like this? Arnett had invited the newlyweds to move into his house. What had Lucas said regarding the ranch house? He had seemed pleased with the idea. Well, pretty much so. Why was she doubting him? That bothered her more than anything. He had insisted he would marry Cassie, and now she had agreed and set the date. They would talk with Reverend Brandenburg in the morning. And wasn’t this her own unspoken dream come true?

  Lord, I ask for peace, beg for peace. My son has grown up, and I have done all that I can. He is in your hands, another reminder for me because I gave him to you at his birth, when you gave him to me. Ivar was so happy to have sons. The three that have lived bring me such joy. She thought of the ones gone on to heaven—two babies, plus another son far too young. She kept the rocker singing its song, her hands busy knitting and her mind praising her Father for all that was and was to come. Thanking Him in advance was getting easier, the more she reminded herself to do it.

  When Lucas drove into the yard later in the evening, Mavis was grateful for the moon so bright it threw dark shadows on the snow.

  “I was beginning to think you were going to come home tomorrow,” Mavis said, removing the stew she’d kept in the warming oven just in case he made the long cold drive tonight.

  Cassie smiled at him, bringing hot coffee at the same time.

  Lucas smiled up at her. “Thanks. I think I’m cold clear through. I have good news for all of us. Where’s Ransom and Arnett?”

  “Arnett just made his way to the bunkhouse, and Ransom decided to go to bed early.” Gretchen took the chair by her brother. “You want me to go get them?”

  “I guess it can wait until tomorrow.”

  She scowled. “Do we all have to wait until tomorrow?”

  Mavis smiled at her daughter, mentally thanking her for saying what her mother was thinking. “I guess we can all use some training in patience.”

  “Is the light still on in the bunkhouse?” Gretchen leaped up and went to the window. “Arnett’s still up!” She grabbed a shawl as she darted out the door.

  Lucas barked a laugh and dug into the food in front of him while Mavis headed down the hall to knock on Ransom’s door.

  “Important?” Ransom called out.

  “Yes.” At least I think so. Indecision made her pause.

  “I’ll be right there, but this better be good.”

  His muttering followed her back down the hall.

  “Arnett will be right up.” A draft of numbing cold blew in with Gretchen. She shivered and kept the shawl around her shoulders as she rubbed her hands in the heat over the stove.

  Mavis emptied the coffee grounds into the chicken bucket and, after rinsing out the coffeepot, filled it with clean water. “Gretchen, would you please bring those leftover cinnamon rolls and gingerbread in here. We’ll warm those too. This sounds like more than just a quick announcement.”

  “You are so right, Mor.” Lucas warmed his hands on his coffee cup.

  Gretchen slid the two plates into the oven and shut the door again. Returning to the pantry, she put the rolled-up rug back in place at the bottom of the door to keep the cold draft from invading the kitchen.

  Mavis heard Arnett stamping his feet on the porch. Even with the path dug to the barn and the bunkhouse, boots picked up more snow than anyone wanted tracked into the house. At the same time, Ransom, wearing his moccasins rather than boots, appeared, smoothing his hair back with both hands.

  “Lucas, this better be good.”

  “Sorry. I got home as fast as I could. I have two letters, one for Cassie and another for all of us. Porter is so excited about the Fourth of July rodeo and Wild West show, he talked nonstop.” He looked to Ransom. “Did you see the elk tonight?”

  Ransom shook his head. “Not down with the cattle. I didn’t go out there.”

  “Henri wants another as soon as possible. Says his customers rave about the elk. He has found a smoker, and the sausages are really popular. He wondered if we had a hog to butcher to mix with the elk, but I told him sorry on that. He brings in pork on the train. Refrigerator cars sure make a difference in the foods available. Oh, I nearly forgot.” He rose and dug in his jacket pockets on the tree. “Oranges for us all.” He lined them up in the center of the table.

  Cassie brought plates from the cupboard and set them on the table too.

  With the food all in place on the table and the people seated around it, Mavis brought over the coffeepot. “You go ahead and start, Lucas. We’re ready.”

  “Fortified enough?” His grin made them all smile.

  Ransom rubbed his eyes and scratched the stubble on his chin.

  With a nod and a smile, Mavis took her place. “Now we are. Get to the telling.”

  Lucas drew the two envelopes from his pocket and handed one to Cassie and one to his mother.

  Cassie quickly read through hers and told the others about Mr. Porter’s ideas for the following summer’s Wild West show.

  “Now you read, Mor,” Lucas prodded.

  Only the crackle of moving paper broke the expectant silence. A chunk of wood settled in the stove. Othello, by Cassie’s side, snored, snuffled, and snored again.

  Mavis nodded as she read, then cleared her throat to read aloud.

  “To all of the Engstroms,

  I am delighted to tell you of the success of our plans for the show, as I will refer to our ideas from now on. The leaders of Hill City are solidly behind the idea of a combination Wild West show and rodeo. They are pleased with the date, already planning ahead to make it longer next year. I have never seen such solidarity among our merchants and business people. My fear that this would be a hard sell was totally unfounded.”

  Mavis paused and smiled at those around her table. “Good news is right.

  “We are definitely planning on the barbecue, hoping your ranch will be able to supply the steers to be roasted over the coals. How many do you think it will take, and is this a possibility or do we need to look elsewhere also?”

  Lucas glanced at his brother. “I told him we do half a steer here and how many we feed. Usually over a hundred, isn’t it?”

  “And we rarely have anything left over.”

  “But a whole steer would leave too much.” Mavis read ahead. “Listen to this:

  “We are trying to come up with more events that will benefit the ranchers around the area. Do you have any ideas that we might incorporate? Is there anyone who might invite city folk to come stay at their ranch a few days? Involve them in the day-to-day ranch work? They could learn to ride, possibly learn to shoot, work a lariat, rope something. Maybe even milk a cow if you have one. Feed animals. You tell me other chores that those with no experience could do.”

  Mavis stopped and looked around at her family. “What do you think?”

  “How about tour a gold mine?” Ransom leaned back in his chair. “You think people would actually pay to take part in our daily life?”

  “Cassie could teach them to shoot. Arnett could teach them to ride. He taught lots of others. Here they would even see buffalo up close.” Lucas stared at his brother. “That gold mine might pay off after all.”

  “But where would they sta
y?” Gretchen picked at the crumbs of gingerbread.

  “The bunkhouse,” Arnett threw in. “A whole family could stay there.”

  “He can have my room, and Mor and I will stay where we are.”

  “How long would it take us to build another bunkhouse?”

  “We could jack up that bunkhouse at my place and bring it over here. It ain’t as heavy to move as the steam engine. That would be two cabins.”

  “How long would it take to build another one or two?” Mavis rose and fetched her tablet and pencil. “We need a name.”

  “We have a name. The Bar E.”

  “The Bar E what?”

  “Guest Ranch?” Cassie asked.

  Lucas squinted his eyes and rocked his chair back on two legs. “What was that word I heard?”

  Ransom scowled. “If you break the chair, you have to fix it.”

  Lucas flinched and the chair legs thumped back down. “Come on. We read it in something.”

  “It’s a term for Easterners.” Ransom’s inflection on the final word was not complimentary.

  “Dude?” Cassie asked, question marks all over her face.

  “That’s it!” Lucas clapped and pointed a finger at her. “Good girl. Dude. Bar E Dude Ranch. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds like a lot of work.” Ransom heaved a sigh. “But then it could bring in actual cash money.”

  “We could have a shooting contest at the end of— Would they stay a week? More? Less?”

  “Why would someone come so far for less than a week? Maybe two? If we did this during July, they could help with the haying. If people want to learn about ranching, we sure could teach ’em.”

  “Maybe overnight camping at the mine?” Ransom started to rock back, glanced around, and sat back quietly.

  Mavis tried to keep her grin to herself, but when she looked at Ransom, he winked. “How would we feed ten, twelve people? They would have to understand that we are a working ranch. July would be before the garden needs to be put up—mostly. They could come here after the Hill City celebration or a week before that. Or . . . ?” She nodded as she reread her notes.