Place to Belong, a (19 page)

Cassie nodded and took a bite. The flavor exploded on her tongue. “I have so much to learn.”

“I think you are doing right well,” Mavis said. “You try new things all the time. Your bread is getting lighter, and your pancakes are about as good as mine.” She turned to the reverend. “Cassie is trying to spoil me by having the stove hot and the coffee ready by the time I get out to the kitchen.”

Cassie half smiled.
Tell him. Get it over with.
“So you knew there would not be a wedding on Saturday?”

“I did. Word travels fast in this town, like any small town. And Lucas and Betsy running off like that was big news, set all kinds of jaws to flapping.” He scraped the soup out of the bottom of his bowl. “I don't suppose you know where they went?”

“Not really. I'm thinking Hill City because he likes to work with Mr. Porter. But where they are living and what they are doing for clothes and a place to sleep, I don't know. I know
Lucas didn't seem to have taken much with him. One change of clothes is all I noticed.”

“Serve them right if—”

“Now, Gretchen, we won't have any such talk.”

“There is that old saw: They made their bed and now they have to lie in it.” Mrs. Brandenburg made a face. “Not a good one for right now, I suspect.”

“Will you go look for them?” Reverend Brandenburg asked.

“No. I'm praying Lucas will come to his senses like the Prodigal Son and come home again. But we shall see.”

Mrs. Brandenburg picked up the dishes and brought a large bowl of the stewed fruit to the table. “And to think you brought me cream. We can use it right away.” She dished up a bowl for each of them and passed the cream pitcher.

Cassie smiled her thanks and wondered if she should pour on the cream first or try it without. She remembered her mother talking about this from her childhood in Norway but had never made it. A round stick lay in her bowl. Was she supposed to eat it . . . ?

Mrs. Brandenburg chuckled. “You don't eat that, Cassie. That's a cinnamon stick and it's just for flavoring. We usually suck the pudding off the stick and lay it aside. I'm sure Mavis has some of that in her pantry too.”

“I use it in making hot apple cider sometimes. Heat the canned or frozen apple juice with spices and maybe some honey in it. We didn't have any at Christmas this year. Usually we do.”

Cassie picked up the stick and tentatively licked the shiny stuff off it. “That's really good.” She finished sucking on the stick and laid it aside.

“The cream is really good on this.”

Cassie picked up the pitcher and poured some on the edges. No sense in jumping in with both feet when a toe tip would work. Gretchen, who was sitting beside her, giggled.

“Cassie has tried lots of new things since she came to the ranch, like cleaning guts for sausage casings and baking bread and—”

“Cooking anything was new, and now that I've eaten the smoked sausages we made, cleaning the guts was worth the time and stink. I still have so much to learn, but I have good teachers.”

“Remember, you can come here anytime, and we'll try some other things.” Mrs. Brandenburg patted Cassie's arm. “I would love to share what I know.”

“Just so it isn't knitting.” Cassie shook her head. “I have not conquered the knitting needles. I have tried and tried, but I never end up with the same number of stitches in a row. I took the yarn out so many times, it shredded.”

“But she sure is good at sewing, and the handkerchiefs she made had perfect hems and monograms. She made Gretchen and me aprons and a flannel vest for Runs Like a Deer. Now these two are going to sew a skirt for Gretchen for school. Maybe I won't have to sew all her clothes any longer.”

Cassie had a hard time keeping from squirming in her chair. It wasn't like she had done a whole lot for Christmas, but knowing that it was appreciated felt mighty good. Maybe she really could contribute to part of the ranch work. But if she would win some prize money, she could do a whole lot more. The only way to make that happen was to practice a lot and get herself back in shape. That was one good thing about spending winter in the warmer climates of the south, as they had for years. Down there, without the ice and snow and mud in the corral, she could keep riding and working on new routines with Wind Dancer. They had a lot to do to be ready for the coming shooting matches and the show in July. Let alone with guests coming to stay at the ranch. Life was picking up speed.

Would she be able to keep up?

H
ow could Lucas do something so selfish as running off with Betsy when he had pushed Cassie to the point of agreeing to marry him? The part that frustrated Ransom the most was that he'd finally thought his brother had grown up a little and knew in his heart that Cassie was the woman he had always dreamed of. He could hear Lucas saying those very words:
a woman I'd dreamed of
.

Well, the fool had made a commitment now and there would be no backing out. Maybe Ransom ought to ride into Hill City and see if Lucas was indeed there. But why? What could he do? Other than deck the brother who'd made him furious so often through the years. There would be no pile of wood that needed splitting there.

All the plans they had made. The furniture building, the mine—well, that was his dream, not Lucas's. But he wouldn't be here for spring calving or roundup or branding or any of the other work that needed doing. Good thing Micah was such a willing worker and that Arnett was enjoying being back to work and planning ahead.

Ransom felt like slamming his fist into a wall . . . or into a face. He was just as angry today as the day he'd discovered Lucas had run off. Maybe he should go talk with Hudson and the two of them could form a posse of sorts and go searching for Lucas. The cow shifted her feet and swished her tail.

“Sorry, Rosy, I'll be more careful.” He stripped her until she was dry and shifted the milk pail out to the side. He could have gotten Gretchen up to milk, but right now, keeping really busy was helping him with his temper. Forking hay onto the sledge was another good thing. He patted the cow and hung the three-legged stool up on the post. Arnett said he would gladly milk too. Whoever would have dreamed that the old man would lose ten years off his age just because he now felt he was needed and could still do the work? Age certainly hadn't dimmed his mind. The workshop they were setting up in his barn was proof of that.

Cassie Lockwood did not deserve to be treated the way his brother had treated her. But she didn't sulk or cry or do any of the other things he'd expected. She and Gretchen seemed to be having a great time sewing together. And Mor was glad Cassie hadn't moved out. He never thought he'd see the day that he'd be feeling sorry for her. Not that she seemed to need that, but Lucas was a member of the family, and their mother and father had instilled in them certain principles, not the least of which was Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Sometime there would be repercussions from Lucas's behavior, and right now, Ransom would not mind being one of those dealing out repercussions.

He poured some milk into the flat pan for the barn cats and some in another bucket for Rosy's calf. After setting the calf bucket in the frame he'd built to hold it, he watched the calf drink the bucket dry, tail twitching like a metronome. Then he scooped up both buckets and headed for the house. Leaving the calf on the cow would have been easier, but they needed the milk
too. There was enough cream now to churn butter, and the pigs and chickens always loved the leftovers.

In the house he set the bucket with the milk in the sink and took the other to the stove to dip hot water out of the reservoir to wash the milk bucket. “You want me to strain this?”

“No. I'll get it later.” Mavis set the platter of fried eggs on the table. “Come and eat.”

Ransom washed his hands and sat down in his place. The sight of the empty chair next to him made his teeth clench. Getting Hudson and going to look for Lucas was an idea that might appreciate a bit of nurturing. However, he knew what his mother's answer would be if he mentioned it, so he kept his mouth shut.

What kind of reason could he give for going to Hill City today? Or perhaps he should be like Lucas and just take off without telling anyone where he was going. The thought made his stomach tighten into a knot. How could he do something like that after all the times he'd railed against Lucas for just such a thing? He spread butter and jam on his biscuit and dipped it into the egg yolk, slightly runny, just the way he liked them. He glanced up to see that the others were all staring at him. Had he been asked a question and not heard it?

“Sorry. My mind is elsewhere. Did I do something wrong?”

“We didn't say grace yet.” Gretchen turned her head slightly and gave him a raised-eyebrow look.

“Excuse me.” He laid his biscuit down and stopped chewing, eyes closed.

Gretchen closed her prayer with, “And make my brother pay better attention. Amen.”

He gave her back look for look. “I said I was sorry.”

“It's not like you to act like that.”

Great, another reason to feel guilty. First thinking about finding his miserable, selfish brother, second not paying attention.
Perhaps if he had paid attention, he would have realized Lucas was up to something. But that was going over old ground again. He'd spent too much time between going to bed and falling asleep, trying to recall some clue.

Cassie retrieved the coffeepot and went around the table refilling the cups. When she got to Ransom, he shook his head. “I've had enough, thanks.” As she refilled Arnett's cup, Ransom asked, “Do you need help with your targets?”

“If you want to. I can set them up.”

“I'm sure you can, but how about if Arnett and I get out there and dig them free of the snow? You want them at certain distances?” Why was she looking at him like that? As if she was surprised he offered? Usually Lucas helped, but since he wasn't here, someone else needed to.

“I thought you were going over to Arnett's.”

“We are, but we'll take a few minutes to do this. Micah is going with us.”

“You want me to fix you something to eat to take along?”

“If you want to make sandwiches, that would be great.”

“I'll get those woodboxes filled before we go.” Arnett propped his elbows on the table and cradled his coffee cup between his hands. “Sure is easier when the cattle feed off the stacks. Ya know, since I'm not feeding out my hay, we need to bring that over here or take the stock over there.”

“The latter would be easier, but I'm not comfortable with them there and no one living in the house. Might be an invitation for problems.”

Mor frowned. “But there's not been any rustling since that crew was thrown in jail.”

“None that we know of. I haven't asked any of the other ranchers, have you? Or the sheriff?”

Arnett bobbed his head. “Nope. You're right. Let's take the sledge over then, and Micah can fork down a load while you
and I work on the shop. I got an old barrel stove somewhere that we can put up to keep it warmer in there. And plenty of firewood.” He let out a sigh. “I sure was lookin' forward to those two young'uns moving into my house. Houses don't do well when they're left empty. Kinda like old people who die from bein' alone. We all need to feel useful.”

Ransom looked at Cassie. Was she feeling bad too? If so, she didn't appear to. But then, she'd been a performer all her life. She could probably keep from showing her feelings. But when she raised her head and caught his glance, he could see the darkness of pain in her beautiful eyes. Had she fallen in love with Lucas after all? If so, that made this all the worse. The urge to pound Lucas made him clench his fists. He saw his mother looking at him and sure hoped she couldn't read his mind.

“Well, let's get those targets back in place. Gretchen, you want to ski up to the cabin and tell Micah we'll be ready in about an hour?”

“Sure. Cassie, you want to come with?”

“I'll work with the targets instead. Thanks.” They all rose and set their plates and silver in the dishpan heating on the stove and then got into their outer things. Cassie helped clear the remainder of the table before getting into her coat.

The sun made it look warm out, but it hadn't warmed up a whole lot. Ransom waded through the knee-deep snow and retrieved the stands they had built to hold the targets. The snow crust was strong enough to hold them up, so he set them just to the side of where they had been. He could hear Arnett hauling the wood. A crow flew overhead, scolding them in his scratchy voice. Gretchen buckled her skis over her boots and, using the poles, headed off across the field.

If it weren't for thinking about Lucas's actions this morning, setting him off, he'd be thinking this was about as close to perfect a day as one could have in the winter. The cattle were gathered
around the haystack, snow from the last storm still riding the backs of the buffalo. The sky wore the intense blue that made the snow seem even whiter. He heard a horse whinny and saw Wind Dancer loping across the field to see who the skier was. Tossing his head, he trotted along with Gretchen, as if anyone was better than no one. The spinning windmill was refilling the stock tank, so the cattle had been up to drink. And glory be, the pipes hadn't frozen. Ever since they ran the pipe to the house and the hand pump in the sink, he'd taken time to wrap the pipes when the weather turned cold. Sometimes, though, if the cold got very bad, even that was not enough, and the pipes would burst.

“That's great, thanks,” Cassie called. “I'll put the targets on them.”

“Tell Arnett I'm down hitching up the sledge.” He watched her turn and go back in the house. She wasn't really anything like he'd thought she was in the beginning. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd misjudged her. The thought made him pick up his pace. Admiration was not something he'd ever expected to feel for Miss Cassie Lockwood.

He'd harnessed the team by the time Micah joined him in the barn. “Thanks for coming.”

Micah nodded, still not one to waste words. Together they hitched the team to the sledge and drove toward the house, where Gretchen was just taking off her skis.

“It's so bright my eyes hurt. I should have worn a cap with a brim.”

“Yep, you shoulda.” Arnett stopped beside her. “You make sure you get more wood if your mother needs more. Don't let her do that.”

Gretchen grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”

Yes,
Ransom thought,
Arnett is part of the family for sure. Sounds just like a father.

With the bells still on the horse harnesses, they set off for the other place. Between the singing sleigh bells and the beauty of the day, it was rather difficult to stay hotly angry at Lucas. But Ransom would try.

“When do you want to bring the steam engine down?” Arnett asked, leaning against the rack part of the hay wagon.

“I thought as soon as we get the shop in order. We're going to need to go to town soon and see if those piston rings you ordered are in.”

“He said a week or two. I'm thinkin' we could use a drill press too. Go a lot faster than a brace and bit. Between the tools that run on the donkey engine and what hand tools we have, we can do most anything.”

Ransom was feeling better and better about this business of making furniture. Arnett was a fine partner, as opposed to brothers who went kiting off unannounced, leaving you to do everything. “Let's bring home any that are rusty, and we can work on those in the evening. Sharpen blades too. I made a couple of drawings but didn't bring them. I need to go through that pile in our barn again. If Far saw that pile, he'd have a fit.” His father. It seemed so long ago, yet he remembered every detail about the man.

Arnett nodded sagely. “He always kept his tools and things in perfect order.”

“Micah, you ever do any carving?”

From the back came “Some. Simple things. I'm making a chair now.”

The horses were slowing, so Ransom flicked the lines as a reminder. The sleigh bells resumed their usual jingling. “You know you are always welcome to use the tools we have. Did Chief do any carving?”

“Not that I know.”

Curious. When they turned into the lane to Arnett's, they
saw that a sleigh had been there, pulled by one horse. There were no tracks showing it had come back out.

“Hmm.” Arnett looked ahead. “Who could that be?”

“You told people you are living at our place now?”

“Nope. Figured the less that knew it, the less chance there'd be a break-in. Places left vacant can be targets.”

A steaming horse harnessed to a four-seat sleigh waited at the hitching post. Tracks led to the front door. Ransom turned the sledge before stopping. “Stay here, Micah.” He dropped to the ground. Both Ransom and Arnett headed for the house.

Arnett opened the door. “Who's here?”

“Why, there you are! We came out to check on you, and imagine our surprise when no one was here, and it didn't look like anyone had been for some time.” Cal Haggard came hustling out from the kitchen.

His Lucretia loomed in the kitchen doorway behind him. “We were so worried about you, Arnett, I insisted we come to check and make sure you weren't lying on the floor somewhere.”

“Also why we came over, I was thinking to talk with you about the guest ranch letter. Thought maybe you got one too. Ransom, good to see you.” Cal reached out to shake their hands. “'Bout scared us out of our wits when there was no indication you'd been outside, and when your dog didn't bark. What have you gone and done?”