Place to Belong, a Read online

  The community was having a party at the church meeting hall on Friday night. Arnett had agreed to play Santa and was even shaping his beard for the role. While Ransom would just as soon stay home, the entire family would attend. So there he’d be, like it or not, smiling and making small talk and agreeing that the bride-to-be was beautiful.

  She certainly was that.

  Other than Sundays at church, this would be Cassie’s community-wide introduction. If the Hudsons showed up, there would be sparks for sure.

  Back to Lucas. The sooner he was married, the better.

  Ransom decided he ought to quit thinking and pay closer attention to what he was doing. Eager to reach the barn, the horses had turned into the last gate so sharply, the front sledge corner scraped the upright post. Come on, Ransom! Wake up! Daydreaming is for children. And maybe for Lucas.

  He turned to the man beside him as they drove toward the barn. “You think you and I and Micah can run that sawmill? Lucas won’t be back until late.” He didn’t add “as usual,” but he thought it. Lucas had taken the last of the smoked elk into Hill City. The orders from the hotel were going a long way toward keeping them solvent, or he’d complain more. To whom, he wasn’t sure. His complaints didn’t seem to faze his younger brother. And Mor certainly disapproved of them.

  Arnett nodded sagely. “We could, but that extra set of hands moves things along better. Runs Like a Deer might be willing to keep the fire stoked and keep watch on the boiler. You want me to ask her?”

  “Up to the cabin?”

  “Nope, I saw her go down to the ranch house.”

  Ransom stopped the team under the open door of the hayloft. “I’ll go on up and fork it down. You spread it?”

  On the good days, they fed the cattle out of the hayloft, and on the bad they opened the fence on one of the haystacks. This way they were able to waste less, although the buffalo cleaned up what the cattle trampled in their desire for the better hay. Spreading hay into the corners of the wagon—now turned sledge with the winter runners—and distributing the hay on the load helped them to pile more on, therefore needing fewer loads. Efficiency. Ransom loved efficiency.

  “Sounds good to me.” Arnett stepped off the flat bed of the hay wagon, and they each removed the harness from one of the team and hung both on the wall inside the barn. “When’s that cow gonna calve?”

  “From the look of her, it should be any day.”

  “Cassie said she wants to learn how to milk a cow.”

  Ransom raised his eyebrows. “She did?”

  “Son, you just don’t give her credit. That little heifer has a heart big as this ol’ barn. She’s gonna make Lucas a fine wife. Just give her some time to catch up. She’d come up there and monitor that ol’ boiler.”

  Ransom didn’t bother to answer. He was not going to ask her, and that was all there was to it. “Let’s get this wagon loaded again, and then we’ll see.”

  “Good, you’re just in time,” Mavis said when the two men returned to the house. “We’re going over to Arnett’s for an afternoon of cleaning, and two more sets of hands will make it happen faster.” She paused. “Unless you had something else planned, of course.”

  Ransom heaved a sigh and shook his head. “It’ll wait. But one of these days, I’m telling you, sometime this week I get all the men up at the mill.”

  Mavis rolled her lips together. “Yes, sir. How about some sweet rolls to sweeten you up some?”

  Ransom ignored her sass. Leave it to his mother to have the last word. “Thank you.” He took the snail-shaped roll with almond-flavored frosting and made short work of it on his way to the table for dinner. The house smelled good enough to eat, and his stomach rumbled to prove it. Maybe he should just give up and not try to get anything important done until after Christmas. And then the wedding. And then the New Year. One thing after another.

  “Your turn to say grace, son.”

  Ransom bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord, for this food before us and for the loving hands that prepared it. Amen.” Short was better than adding complaints, although he knew he needn’t voice them for the Lord to see into his heart. And right now, he wished that were not so. No wonder God promised to change them, starting on the inside.

  This seemed to be a pondering kind of day, he thought as he dished up the chicken and dumplings his mother set before them. If he spent much more time on it, he’d be back to fighting to come up with new ways to bring some cash money into the ranch. His mother had reminded him just last night how much they had to be thankful for. Leave it to her. She had an unerring instinct about when to push and when to remain silent. She’d called times like these “serious stew times.”

  He jerked his mind back to the table. Who had called his name? Glancing up, he realized most eyes were on him. He could play the dodging game or just come out and ask. Might as well own up. “Sorry, what did I miss?”

  “Arnett asked if you wanted to search through his tools at the ranch for anything that might help with the furniture building.” His mother gave him her raised-eyebrow look.

  “I thought . . .”Arnett paused, mouthing a bit of dumpling. “I thought if we get those trees milled, we can store ’em in my barn and bring in the steam engine to provide power. Seems to me I have a plane and a lathe.” He shook his head. “Been so long since I did anything like that, I sorta forget. Hazel wanted to put my tools to right one time, but I scared her off. I didn’t tell her what to do in the kitchen and she could right leave my tools alone.” He gave Ransom a considering look. “I looked at some of your plans. You got good ideas, son. Take after your pa, you do.”

  Ransom narrowed his eyes, nodding gently all the while. “We need to go through Far’s tools too. Lotta stuff got thrown in the corner. We find real treasures there from time to time. Sounds like both places could use some cleaning up.”

  “We’ll do Arnett’s house first.” Mavis held up the bowl of chicken and dumplings. “Anyone for more?”

  Ransom swapped a man’s look with Arnett. The law had spoken.

  The crew spent that afternoon and the better part of the following day laboring at Arnett’s place. By the time the reluctant work crew needed to be back to the Bar E for chores, Arnett’s house nearly sparkled with clean. The bedding had been washed by Mavis and Cassie, and now both inside and out of every cupboard, drawer, and closet bore the determination of women on the warpath against grime. Ransom and Arnett polished the windows that were no longer scrolled in frost paintings and swept down any cobweb that dared to exist, both inside and on the porches. The stove wore the sheen of vigorous scrubbing, leaving no trace of the rust that cast iron welcomed so warmly.

  “Thank you all,” Mavis said, raising her voice to be heard above the harness bells as the cleaning crew headed home in the sleigh. She turned to Cassie. “Now you know where everything is, and that mouse family got moved out. You take a cat with you when you move in too. There’s nothing more comforting than a cat in front of a stove. It’s a good thing Othello tolerates cats. He is one adaptable dog.”

  Ransom glanced over to his mother and saw Cassie frowning. What burr had gotten under her saddle? One didn’t usually see her with a furrow between her brows. Surely she should be pleased at all their hard work. Not every young bride got to move into a house all furnished and ready like Arnett’s. And if she was disgusted with Lucas not being there to help, she just better get used to that. Lucas lived by his own clock. And even though they spent the afternoon on Arnett’s spread, he and Arnett had nary a chance to get down to the barn and the machinery shop. He clucked the team into a trot. Maybe it was time to give Lucas a real piece of his mind.

  The setting sun was dimming the land by the time he let the women off at the house. While Lucas’s horse was in the corral and the fires were restoked in the house, there was no sign of Lucas.

  Gretchen met them at the door. “You could have left me a note or something. I was beginning to worry.”

  “You only missed out on cleaning out
my ranch house, little girl,” Arnett said. “Be glad. Where’s Lucas?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know.” She hung up her mother’s coat and scarf while the others put the cleaning supplies away. “I put the leftovers on to heat when I saw you coming.”

  “Thank you, dear. Did you and Jenna have a good time?”

  She bobbed her head. “We’re supposed to remind all the families about the party, since it is to raise funds for the school. We need new textbooks.”

  Ransom left them talking and headed back out to take the team to the barn. When he opened the barn door, he saw the lit lantern hanging by the box stall, where he could hear Lucas talking. He left the horses stamping against the deepening cold and leaned over the half wall.

  The cow was up and Lucas was cleaning off the calf with wisps of hay and a gunnysack. She nosed her baby to get it moving while Lucas stepped back.

  “What happened?” Ransom kept his voice low.

  “She needed some help. I looped the rope around the front legs and helped it out. One mighty big calf, but he took a little rib pushing to get him breathing. Too long in the birth canal, but he’s getting stronger.”

  They watched as the calf tried to get his back feet under him, but instead of standing, the wobbly newborn collapsed back in the straw. His mother nudged him again and continued licking him dry. He shook his head and tried again, this time getting his rump in the air and his front feet straightened out. As he heaved himself to a shaky standing, the two men silently cheered him on. The cow turned to get her udder closer to him. After another collapse, he bumped her with his nose and finally found the teat.

  Ransom was impressed with the baby’s persistence. “That cow is one mighty fine mother. This is what? Her fifth calf?”

  Lucas nodded. “I think so. An hour ago I wouldn’t have bet on his making it.”

  “I’m glad you were here.”

  “Me too. Heard her distress call when I was unsaddling. I think she’d been at it for quite a while already.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m going for a bucket of warm water for her. Wish we had some of those oats ground. Warm mash might be just what she needs.”

  “Put some molasses in it too. I’ll get the team put away.” Ransom watched his brother heading for the house, a bucket swinging from his gloved hand. He’d done it again. About the time Ransom was ready to light into him, he did something just right. They might have lost the calf and had a dreadfully sick cow had it gone on too long.

  He let the horses out into the corral, hung up the harnesses, and after feeding the hogs and checking the chickens that had gone to roost, headed for the house. He saw Arnett out on the porch refilling woodboxes, the warm lamplight through the windows making him pick up his pace. He met bundled-up Cassie and Lucas coming out the back door.

  “She wants to see the new calf,” Lucas said, then turned as Gretchen closed the door behind her. “You coming too, squirt?”

  “You’re not supposed to call me that anymore. Mor said.”

  “Sorry, I forgot.” He turned to Ransom, who was scraping his boots off at the boot brush. “Remind me to tell you Porter’s latest bright idea. That man has good ones and some not so good.”

  “And this one?”

  “Jury’s still out on it.” The three headed for the barn, leaving Ransom shaking his head. While curiosity was gnawing at him like a beaver on a poplar tree, he’d not let Lucas know. There had to be some satisfaction in that somewhere.

  “So Bess finally had her calf!” Mavis turned from the stove at his gusty entry. The wind was coming up too.

  “She has a live one, thanks to Lucas.” After hanging up his gear, he crossed to the stove to rub his hands over the heat. He peeked over Arnett’s shoulder at the drawings he was studying at the kitchen table. “What smells so good?”

  “Applesauce cake. Do you think the pond is frozen enough for skating?”

  “That and some. Why? You want to go skating?”

  “I do. Cassie is getting better on skis, and now she needs to learn how to skate. If they weren’t having the Argus annual Christmas party this week, we could invite some neighbors over for a skating party.”

  “The ice needs to be swept off first.” One more thing to do to keep him from milling.

  “Just a thought.” She peeked inside the oven and closed its door.

  Memories came pouring in. He almost smiled. “Been a long time since we’ve had a skating party.”

  “I know, and it makes me wonder why. I used to love to skate.”

  “Your momma was the picture of grace on skates, boy. And so was my Hazel.” Arnett looked up from the drawings. “We get the wood milled tomorrow, and then we can start tinkering with the tools. I got me a couple a good ideas too.” He pointed to a drawing of a whatnot table. “Your pa used mostly cottonwood?”

  Ransom took the chair across from him. “He did. Said it was plentiful and soft enough to work pretty easy.”

  “But we’re gonna use oak and elm?”

  “Got some maple in our barn,” Ransom said.

  “Seems to me this would be a good starting piece. Sell ’em in lots of two. Is there enough cherry for two?”

  “I have no idea. Old man, you got a dreaming head on those shoulders.”

  “You know my mantel?”

  “I do.” A picture of that carved mantel flipped through Ransom’s mind. “I’ve always admired that piece.”

  “Well, what if we did a bit of carving on the front of the drawer on this table? Make that a kind of signature of our work. I know your pa made a statement with his cottonwood pieces in your big room and some in mine. We could copy his or come up with our own. Did you see the light go on for Porter when he saw them pieces?”

  Ransom shook his head.

  “Well, it did. Bet we can get him to buy some right off. He gets the crowds in from the East for his shooting matches and the Wild West show, and we just might have us a market.”

  Staring at the old man, Ransom continued shaking his head. Here he’d thought his neighbor to be on his last legs, and look at him now. Not only thriving but dreaming big dreams and figuring ways to get skids under them to bring ’em home. Ransom didn’t remember ever seeing the old man with this kind of enthusiasm. But then, maybe he hadn’t been looking, or perhaps this was just the right time. As his mother so often said, “God’s timing may just surprise you.” Was this an example of God leading? Of God’s timing? Was He closing one door, like the mine, and opening another?

  14

  Lord, I don’t have any idea how to work this all out. Instead of trying any further, I’m putting it all in your hands. Lucas first of all. If my middle son is so in love with Cassie and determined to marry her, why don’t I see more signs of that? You’d think he’d want to spend time with her, and while he is out working with the other men, of course he needs to do that. But what about the evenings? They never seem to talk.

  She opened the Bible in her lap to the Psalms, where she always went first when things were not clear. Praise ye the Lord: for it is good to sing praises unto our God; for it is pleasant; and praise is comely, she read.

  She heaved a deep-from-the-heart mother’s sigh. I know that, but I let all this other stuff get in the way. I have trouble praising you when things are muddled, and yet I know that’s when I need it the most.

  She leaned her head against the back of the rocker. She could hear the sewing machine humming away in Cassie’s bedroom. The fragrance of cardamom drifted in from the kitchen. Benny and Othello were tussling on the front porch, their happy yips and fake growls showing the friendship that had grown between them. Dog stayed with Runs Like a Deer at the cabin and still acted standoffish when the woman came down to help at the ranch house.

  Today she had said she had things to finish up there.

  Everyone seemed to be in the normal hurry to finish the gifts race in the days before Christmas. She could bring in the boughs now to decorate the house. The tree was waiting in a bucket of water on the
back porch so the sun couldn’t dry it out.

  Sing, sing, sing songs of praise. Sing praises to my name. The words trickled through her mind. “Lucas is yours and Cassie is yours, and I will sing praises to your name.” What was the tune? It seemed so familiar and yet she couldn’t place it. She closed her Bible and put her feet up on the hearth, staring into the orange and yellow flames.

  In a few minutes, she planted her feet back on the floor and stood, stretching her arms over her head and twisting from side to side. It was amazing how much lighter she felt. Why didn’t she start with praise, instead of only seeking it when she was in distress? God had brought Cassie to them, and He had a plan, a good plan, as He promised. She strode into the kitchen to check on the round loaves of julekake, the Norwegian Christmas bread with currants and candied fruit in it. She always used to take a loaf over to Hazel and Arnett. Just a reminder that life changes and goes on.

  She pulled the pans from the oven and slid the loaves onto the wooden rack to cool. She’d frost them later. The kitchen was filled with the fragrance of Christmas baking, one of her favorite things about the holidays. Tomorrow when they went into town to sign the ranch papers, she’d take a basket to Molly Beckwith. Maybe they should invite that family out for Christmas Day. That way they would have some children in the house for a change. Just think, maybe by this time next year there would be a baby in the family.

  She raised her voice. “Cassie, you about ready for a cup of coffee?”