Place to Belong, a (14 page)

“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?

L
ord, 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?”

“I'll be there in a minute. Let me finish this seam.” The
kerthunk
of the treadle resumed its beat.

Mavis replenished the stove and pulled the coffeepot to the front to heat. What a pleasure it was to have another woman around to share the coffee. Such a simple thing, so cherished. So many things to be thankful for. She put both gingerbread and sour-cream cookies on a plate and found herself thinking there should be even more. Nonsense. This was ample.

“What smells so heavenly?” Cassie asked as she entered the room.

“The julekake just came out. I'll set the loaves in the window box to freeze. We serve them for breakfast on Christmas Day. I usually give some away too.”

“My mother loved both the smell and taste of cardamom. Said it reminded her of home in Norway. How come people use it only at Christmas?”

“Good question. I think they use it more in Norway. For us it is a special treat, like lutefisk and lefse. We'll have that for Christmas Eve supper. Have you ever helped make lefse?”

Cassie shook her head. “I remember my mother trying to teach the cook how to make it, but she was never satisfied. I think she used to wish for home the most at Christmas—home meaning Norway.”

They sipped and nibbled in the quiet before Cassie raised her head and looked directly at Mavis. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course. I'll answer if I can.”

“You said that you chose security over love, yet you said you loved Ivar. When did that happen, the . . . uh, the knowing that you loved him?”

Mavis shot a swift prayer for wisdom heavenward. “I think it was a gradual thing. No big bursts of light or anything, just day
to day realizing how much he meant to me. One day he brought me some bluebells from down by the barn, and I could see love shining in his eyes as he handed them to me. I knew I had made the right decision, and my heart felt like it might burst from the love inside. I was pregnant with Ransom, and that little gift made me cry. Of course, when you are with child, you cry easily anyway, but I remember sobbing. He wrapped those long arms around me, and I could tell he was confused. But when I could talk, I told him they were tears of joy. Then he kissed me again and went back to work.” Mavis realized she was circling the rim of the mug with her forefinger.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

Mavis reached across the table and laid her hand over Cassie's. “Learning to live together as husband and wife takes some doing, but when you can talk things over, it helps a lot.” Did Cassie notice how Lucas seemed to be avoiding talking things over?

Cassie nodded. “My mother and father talked a lot, about business things and personal things and their dreams. As a little girl, I sometimes felt left out, but then my father would set me on his knee and I'd ride horsey. He had a song he sang to that.”

Mavis watched Cassie's face take on a faraway, dreamy look.
Please, O Lord, keep my son from hurting her. She has been hurt enough.

At dinner when they were gathered around the table, Mavis turned to Lucas. “Didn't you say you had a letter or something from Mr. Porter?”

“Ah, that I did. I forgot all about it. Sorry.” He headed for his room, returning with an envelope to hand to his mother. “You read it. I pretty much know what's in it. Told Ransom and Arnett too.”

Questioning him with her gaze, she slit it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

“Dear friends,

“This is in regard to the idea about opening ranch homes to guests, and I would like to hear your opinions on this. The guests would pay for this privilege, of course, and I know money is tight these days. This could bring in some extra cash and be doing strangers a good deed at the same time. I know that is in the middle of the busy summer season, but the folks could ride and learn about life on a ranch.

“Please let me know if we can count on you and your ranch to take part. I don't think we need a lot of ranches, but if we publicize it, it would be a shame to turn people away. We would have to set up pricing and some guidelines. I suggest we plan a meeting here at the hotel in January.

“If this works out, we could become known for both our show and our western hospitality. I look forward to hearing from you.

“Sincerely,
Josiah Porter”

Mavis looked up from the letter. “We should make a clear decision about this. What do you all think?”

“Besides my bunkhouse, we could also turn my ranch house into a guesthouse real easy, since there are three bedrooms there. So we have the room.” Arnett leaned forward. “This sounds like a winning idea to me.”

“I vote let's do it.” Lucas looked to Ransom, who appeared to be studying his thumbs. “What about you, big brother?”

“You know me. I don't go making quick decisions. What if someone were to get hurt, like falling off a horse or something?”

“Good point, son.” Mavis nodded her head slowly, as she sometimes did when she was thinking. “This could have real
possibilities, though. Will we have enough to do to keep them busy?”

“They could help build fences. And they could help us with haying; that would be a real experience.” Lucas turned toward Cassie. “You could maybe put on a show. A little one.”

She nodded. “I could teach adults to shoot, maybe older kids.”

“We could take them on rides up into the mountains, camp out.” Gretchen leaned against her mother's knees. “Kids could maybe play with the calves if we brought in a couple to be tamed. And baby pigs; I think we'll have piglets by then. I think this could be fun.”

The ideas came from all sides of the table, except from Ransom. “Takes some thinking. It could be a lot of hard work. Cooking for the extra people, cleaning and washing. Would we have just one group and would it be before or after the Wild West show? Or on through July and into August?” He wagged his head.

When he did that, he was not very excited about the subject, Mavis knew.

He asked Lucas, “How soon do we have to let him know? His letter seems to be asking for an immediate answer.”

Lucas shrugged. “The sooner the better. This should go out with the other publicity. We're actually behind already, since we thought of the show so late. Most community events like this start planning years in advance.”

“Don't you want to talk with some of the other ranchers? Who all did he send this out to?”

Lucas shrugged again. “Beats me. But I think we should let him know right away, get in right at the beginning. I mean, we've been trying to come up with cash crops, and here one's dumped right in our laps.”

Arnett was still planning. “We could maybe use some of that slab wood to side another bunkhouse. And I could teach
someone how to carve wood.” He said to no one in particular, “I think this has real possibilities.”

“You could do this with your ranch, you know,” Ransom suggested.

“Our ranch, you mean. That will no longer be my responsibility, but these two young'uns living there. That still leaves two bedrooms for company.”

Mavis watched Cassie a moment. What did she think of these ideas? No indication.

And she found herself getting caught up in the game. “If some want to learn about gardening, we can teach that. I think this could be a real adventure. Let's pray about this tonight and see what God has to say about it. You could mail a letter back to Mr. Porter when we decide.”

Lucas was grinning. “Or I could ride into Hill City and tell him.”

Mavis caught the glare Ransom sent his brother, and she knew what Ransom was thinking: Lucas would always rather be off somewhere and planning than working on the ranch. A curious thought struck her. What would it be like with Lucas and Cassie living in the other ranch house?

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was finished and the dishes cleaned up, they all loaded in the sleigh and headed for town to talk to their lawyer and sign the papers. The discussion over breakfast had shown agreement but with some reservations. Although any new thing like this could call for all kinds of uncertainties, Ransom had agreed to give it a try. If it didn't work out, they could go back to regular ranching. Arnett signing away his ranch weighed more heavily on Mavis's mind than the possibility of ranch guests next summer.

“You're absolutely sure you want to do this?” She turned to
Arnett, sitting beside her. For a change Lucas rode with them instead of on his horse.

“Absolutely. We can do more working together than with me living in that house all by myself. Why, I feel twenty years younger since I moved into your bunkhouse. Mavis, yer actin' like an old dog worrying a bone.” He held up his hand when she started to argue. “It is my land, free and clear. I've got no one left to inherit it, no one I want to sell it to, not that anyone would want to buy it, and I spent a lotta time thinkin' this through. We all know how much better I been since I moved into your bunkhouse. I got a new lease on life. Ransom and me makin' furniture, these two making my house a home again, why it all just seems so perfect to me. And if'n we have ranch guests next summer, all the better; I profit and you profit. Mavis, the good Lord says to live in today. And this way I got the freedom to do just that. I think I'm the one getting all the good outta this deal.”