Place to Belong, a (31 page)

“I was going to send my boy out, but I wanted to come by and see your new bunkhouse. Besides, it's a beautiful day to take a drive.”

“It is that.” Ransom stepped in beside her.

“Oh, and Mavis? I'm really happy for Cassie. She was sparkling when she walked into my store, paid off her tab, and bought more shells for cash. Just sparkling! She's a gem, that girl.”

Mavis smiled. “She is that. Always wants to pay her own way and then some, just like her father.” Adam Lockwood. So long ago.

Ransom pointed. “If you would, JD, I want to unload them over there. Ike? Come help unload, please.”

The oldest Stilson boy came hurrying over.

Mavis followed them to the trees. JD swung the back doors of his delivery wagon open and Ransom hopped up inside. He handed a framed window down to Isaiah; the boy propped it aside against a tree and took another. JD strolled over to stand beside Mavis.

“Windows?” Mavis asked.

“Ransom ordered 'em last week.” JD stood with arms folded, a smile on his face. “Says he doesn't have time to frame up windows and glaze them with all the other stuff he's doing. So he gave me the measurements. Lotta people in town do that now. Doc Barnett—that new window in his parlor—I framed that one up for him. Say, the word is that quite a few people are signing up for that live-like-a-rancher thing Porter dreamed up. That's what this is for, right?”

“That's right.”

“Well, you aren't alone. Fletchers are putting up an extra bunkhouse—they call it guest quarters—and so is Jay Slatfield.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner? And coffee? There are still some pecan rolls, and I made cookies.”

“Mavis, I'd love to. You're the best cook around. But I have to get back and mind the store. Another time, for sure.”

“Well, then at least take along some cookies.”

By the time he turned his empty wagon around and pulled up at the house, Mavis had a bag of cookies for him. “Thanks, my friend! Greet the missus for me.”

He grinned. “Oh, I will. She's already envious that I came on out here.” He raised the bag of cookies. “Thank you!” He clucked his team forward, and dust spiraled behind him as they trotted down the lane.

Mavis checked her ham in the oven, added water, and returned to the guesthouse.

After dinner they put Arnett's plan into action. They lifted the bottom ends of each frame up onto the foundation. It took all of them to lift a frame. This was heavier work than Mavis had anticipated.

Arnett stepped back, the supervisor. “We'll do an end frame first, for practice. Besides, it's not as heavy as the long ones. Everybody line up along the top of it; you're gonna lift it up. Cassie, Ike, you'll keep the bottom ends from slipping off the foundation as it goes up. Wedge those two-by-fours against the bottom. That's right. All right, everybody, lift her up. Heave ho!”

The top of the frame rose off the ground. Grunting, the lifters raised it further, hand over hand. Ransom and Mr. Henderson snatched up heavy poles. Ransom wedged his up against the top of the frame to keep it from falling back. Mr. Henderson hopped the foundation and swung his pole up on the other side. He held it ready against the frame.

Arnett called, “Go!” One more heave and the frame rose to vertical, propped on one side by Ransom's pole and on the other by Mr. Henderson's.

“Cassie, Ike, wedge a couple more props in there to hold it firm. That's good. Right!”

Mavis stepped back, sweating. “That went smoothly.”

Gretchen was sweating, too. “And just think. We only have three more of these monsters to raise.”

This was so much like old times. Mavis recalled clearly the house raising and barn raising as all the neighbors helped Ivar and her put up their buildings. And all the times too, when she and Ivar helped raise buildings for their neighbors.

The frame for the other end went up just as smoothly. Everyone paused for coffee, milk, and cookies. The break was more than welcome.

Ransom said, “Well, let's get back to work.”

Mavis stood up. “We'll take care of the cookies and things later, Cassie.”

The girl nodded and went off to join Gretchen and Jenna. She might be a winning shooter, but Mavis must not forget how young she still was.

Ransom looked concerned. “These next two sides are over twice as long as the two that we just put up. I'm worried we don't have enough people.”

“Well, let's try it,” Arnett said.

He pointed out to Cassie and Isaiah where to wedge their two-by-fours, holding the bottom of the frame steady. He lined the lifters out along the top, alternating the weakest and strongest. Mavis noted that he considered Chief one of the weaker ones.

“Get your poles ready, gents.” Arnett picked up a pole himself. “Ready? Lift.”

Rather shaky, the top of the frame rose up. It sagged a bit in the middle, but continued rising. Then Cassie yelped as the bottom end of the frame began sliding inward. She was leaning into her two-by-four, but her feet were sliding backward along the ground. Isaiah was leaning mightily, but his feet couldn't keep traction either. Once one side slid, the other went with it. The whole frame shifted violently and Mavis fell forward on
her knees. She scrambled to her feet, holding on to the frame to keep it from tipping back on top of her. Ransom and both Hendersons were shouting. Arnett was bellowing. She could not see what was happening.

Ransom was beside her now, lifting the frame away from her. “Mor! Let it down. Let it down. That's right.”

Mavis squirmed out from under, stood erect. Cassie was back on her feet, but her bloody nose was soiling the front of her shirt. Gretchen was wadding up her handkerchief. She handed it to Cassie. Ransom jumped the foundation and hurried to her, stepping over the rafters and beams. He bent down until they were face to face. Why did that tickle Mavis so?

The framing of the whole side looked skewed as it draped over the foundation. Arnett was studying it, thinking, looking dismayed.

Cassie must have gotten her nosebleed stopped. “Let's try this again. We can do it.”

“Not enough of us,” Ransom replied.

Chief stepped into the middle of the framing. “Maybe enough if we do it different.” Amazing! Until this moment he had not said a single word. “Mr. Henderson. You and Ransom are heaviest. You two block the footing. Cassie, Ike, they don't weigh enough; it pushes them around. Cassie, Ike, Jenna, you put poles up to prop it when it's upright. Mavis, you, me, there.” He pointed. “Miz Henderson there. Jerry, Zeke, there. No, Gretchen, Zeke, there. Arnett, you too. There. We pick it up, put the footing on foundation, then you four move around to there.”

Ransom bobbed his head. “Let's try it like he says.”

Struggling, they dragged the lower part of the framing to rest on the foundation. They took their positions. Chief adjusted the distance between Ransom and Mr. Henderson.

Arnett called, “Lift on three. One, two, three.” The frame wavered and rose. This was too much for Mavis to hold up; she
would drop it for sure. But as it rose, it seemed less heavy. And now they were hand-over-handing it to upright and it hardly weighed anything at all. Cassie, Jenna, and Ike thrust their props against the top beam. Arnett sent people forward with more props.

When Gretchen and Jenna cheered, everyone else joined in. And all could step back.

“Mr. Henderson, Micah, rope the corners together temporarily, so they don't fall.” Ransom handed hammers to Ike and Jerry. “We want to toe in the spikes, get those corners squared. Then we'll put up the fourth side.”

Mavis sat down in the grass and simply watched. Ransom was a natural leader, like his father before him. He saw what had to be done and knew who could do it. He gave one order at a time, praised frequently. And she watched Cassie too. Cassie was simply sitting on the ground now, gently poking at her cheek. Her nose had quit bleeding, but her cheek and eye were turning purple. Would Ransom blame himself for the accident? Probably.

One more side to raise. They used Chief's arrangement and got it up on the first attempt. Gretchen cheered and the hammers resumed their pounding. The framing for the walls, the hardest part, was done.

Mavis was so bone weary she could barely stand up. And now she was going to feed all these people. Well, as the ladies in the church circle always said, “Chickens and pigs don't fly into people's mouths by themselves.” She trudged toward the house.

Gretchen jogged up the path. “Cassie and Jenna and I have it all set, Mor. You sit on the porch.”

“I have a ham in the oven.”

“We know, and we have the rest,” Gretchen called cheerily over her shoulder. The youngest Stilson boy came running up past her, apparently to help.

By the time Mavis reached the house, the children were setting
chairs and both rockers out on the porch. Gretchen put out a big pitcher of water and here came little Zeke with glasses. So the youngsters had orchestrated this part of the house raising as well.

Why not. Mavis flopped into her rocking chair, and Zeke poured a glass of water and put it in her hand, perhaps assuming she was too weary to reach for it. Mrs. Henderson settled herself in the other rocker. Mr. Henderson and Arnett took chairs. Chief settled himself on the porch step and leaned against the post. Mavis happened to know that was his preferred spot. A few minutes later, Ransom came out and took the last chair.

Mavis looked around. “Where's Micah?”

“He and Ike are doing the barn chores.” Ransom smiled. He actually smiled! “Mor, it's all covered.”

“Apparently so.” This left her free to visit with the Hendersons, putting a delightful end to an exhausting but productive day.

But that evening as she lay in bed waiting for sleep, she thought about Ivar, and Adam, and Jason Talbot. She thought of the prize money Cassie brought home. Cassie said it was a typical purse, not overly large or embarrassingly small. She had won shooting contests when she was with the show, garnering prize money, all turned over to Jason Talbot to be kept safe for her. The Talbot and Lockwood show charged for admission. They charged for concessions. They charged for the performances.

So why did they go bankrupt?

T
hink we should whitewash it?” Arnett was studying their handiwork, the brand-new bunkhouse. It was mid-June—my, how time flew—and it would still look brand-new when their guests arrived in three weeks or so. Eventually, Mavis knew, the pine boards would weather to the gray of the rest of the outbuildings, but not this year. For now, she rather liked the raw pine, and it smelled heavenly.

“It's supposed to be rustic. Besides, it would be the only white building on the property.” Mavis watched Arnett a moment. The old man might be slowing down some, but his eyes still twinkled.

“Since Ransom's in town shopping, thought I might borrow his horse and go out to my place a few hours. The boys are doing good out there, but they need watching. I'll send the horse home with Zeke tonight if I stay.”

“Certainly.” Mavis filled her bushel basket with apples, very nearly the last in the bin. Shame the guests weren't coming in August, when the first of the summer apples would be ripening. A bowl of polished apples in the center of the table would be a
lovely way to greet their company. She carried the basket to the kitchen and set it in the sink.

She was checking for brown spots on the apples when she heard the wagon outside. Were Ransom, Gretchen, and Cassie back from town so soon? She looked out the window and took a deep breath. No, it was not the shoppers. She hastened to the front door.

She opened it as Jason Talbot stepped up onto the porch, two men beside him. Jason was nattily dressed, but then Jason always dressed nattily. By rural standards, these men were downright formal, with cravats and black suits and ties.

“Mavis, old friend!” Jason doffed his hat and bowed.

Perplexed, Mavis said, “Jason. Come in, please.”

“Delighted!” Jason moved aside. “I present Mr. Smith.” One of them dipped his head as he removed his hat.

“And Mr. Jones.” The other fellow removed his hat. “Mrs. Engstrom. How do you do?”

So he already knew who she was, since Jason had not said her name. This was getting more curious by the moment. She waved an arm. “Please be seated. I am assuming you are here on business.”

No one moved. “True,” Jason said, “but our business is with Cassie. Is she available, please?”

“I'm sorry, she's not.” She was about to tell them that Cassie was in Argus with Ransom and Gretchen buying supplies and fabric for the guesthouse, but curiosity was fast giving way to wariness. She would give them no more information.

“It is important that we speak with her,” Mr. Smith said. “We have pressing business.”

Mavis's neck prickled.

She heard Ransom's horse cantering away out of the yard and out the lane, Arnett leaving on his way to the other place. The two men looked at Jason and dashed out the door.

And she put two and two together. “Jason, come into the kitchen, please.”

“Certainly.” Hat in hand, he followed her through the kitchen doorway.

She turned on him. “What is going on here? They acted just now like they thought Cassie was trying to escape or sneak away or something. Who are they and what do you want?”

He raised his hand, a pacifying gesture. “They are business associates, Mavis. We want to offer Cassie a contract. A very handsome contract.”

That prickle grew. Rarely did she ever get angry, but she was angry now. Furious. “A business contract.”

“Exactly.” His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

“We know what kind of business you conduct, Jason. Chief is with us, did you know that? John Birdwing? And Micah. We've heard all about your business dealings. One day your people are all faithfully laboring on your behalf, and the next day they are jobless, homeless. Out on the street with nowhere to go. Without warning. And you didn't even pay them what you owed them!”

“Mavis, that's not true. I paid them what I could. Everyone got at least half their wages.”

“That's hardly cause for congratulations.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you turned out your own partner's daughter, whom you knew from birth, a naïve young girl whose only world was your show. Who worked for you and brought you a huge amount of money.”

“I gave her the Lockwoods' wagon, livestock, and—”

“A dry, rickety old wagon, a team of horses nearly as old, and some buffalo and longhorns. She made you good money for years, Jason Talbot, and you did that to her! If she hadn't accidentally found that deed, she would have had nowhere to go!”

“Mavis, you don't understand. I love Cassie like my own
daughter.” He moved in closer. “”I'm sorry, Mavis, I really am. I am so sorry. I regret all that very deeply. So deeply. Now I have the means to make it up to Cassie, if not the others.”

“I don't believe you, Jason.”

“That is all in the past. Now is different! If only Cassie will go to work for me again, I will make her a star. A star, Mavis. I can take her to undreamed of heights!”

“She trusted you, and you turned her out! Without the money she, let alone Adam, had put into that show.”

“I did the best I could! Now I'm asking for another chance. Better this time.”

Mavis took a deep breath, almost a sob. Another. “Jason, you know how I value hospitality. I never guessed that I would ever say this to Adam Lockwood's partner.” She needed another deep breath to actually do it. “Leave my property. Now.”

“Mavis, please. You're throwing away her future!”

“And you threw away her past!”

He glared at her a long moment, any resemblance to friendship abandoned. He turned and walked out. Instantly, she ran to the back door, reached up to the pegs, and grabbed down the shotgun.

The window was open, and she could hear the men on the porch. Right then she realized that Smith and Jones had heard the whole altercation between Jason and her.

One of them was saying, “You said she was a friend. That didn't sound like it to me.”

And the other said, “I checked in all the buildings here, even the new one, and didn't find her. She's not on the property.”

“Let's get out of here.”

Mavis peeked out the window and watched them climb into their buggy. She saw them yank on the lines, jerk their horse's head around, and bring their whip down across its back. It bolted forward out the lane, and they hit it again.

Like Ivar always claimed, you can know a lot about a person by the way he treated his horses.

Cassie handed the near horse her apple core. Gretchen was already giving the other horse hers. “What do you think?” Cassie asked. “The flowered chintz or the gingham?”

“They're both really pretty.” Gretchen hopped up into the wagon to sit on the box. “The chintz is going to be harder to iron after we wash them. Mor used to have some chintz curtains. I hated them. And the gingham isn't going to fade as fast. On the other hand, the chintz flowers are different colors, so it would be easier to match other things, like a rag rug or something.”

“In other words, you don't know either.”

“Let's go with that green gingham so I don't have to spend so much time ironing.”

Cassie bobbed her head. “Good, practical choice.” But the chintz was very pretty.

They walked back to Mr. McKittrick's mercantile. Cassie noticed as they entered that a big pile of supplies was still stacked by the door. She saw dozens and dozens of boxes of shells on the pile.

She pointed. “So Ransom isn't back yet?”

JD McKittrick smiled. “You can always tell the Engstroms' order. All those shells. Say, do you happen to know a Mr. Talbot?”

Cassie frowned. “Yes. Jason Talbot. Talbot and Lockwood.”

Mr. McKittrick nodded. “Well, he was in here this morning asking where you lived. You walked in fifteen minutes after he left, so you wouldn't have passed each other on the road.”

“We stopped at Brandenburgs first, delivered some stuff from Mavis.” Cassie was still confused. “He said he was coming up
for the Hill City show, but that's not until next week. Why would he come early?”

“Beats me. Didn't say why and I didn't ask. So did you two decide on the curtains yet?”

Gretchen looked at her scratch paper. “Twenty-six yards of the green gingham, six of those curtain rods, and forty-eight curtain rings.”

He nodded. “Twenty yards come on a bolt, that's a bolt and six yards. I'll run out back and get the bolt.”

Cassie wandered over to the dry goods. She ran her fingers down the chintz.

Behind her, Gretchen said, “You really like that chintz. Should I tell him we changed our mind?”

“No. I don't like ironing any better than you do. I was thinking an apron for your mother for her birthday.”

“Oh, that would be perfect!” Gretchen snatched up another bolt. “And look at this percale.” She held it up to the chintz. “It's exactly the same color as those pansies. We could line it, and then splatters wouldn't soak through. They do sometimes.”

Perfect for sure! They carried the fabric up to the counter. Cassie watched Mr. McKittrick deftly cut their order, but her mind kept returning to Jason Talbot. She used to love her uncle Jason, but not since he threw out her friends, not to mention her as well. It was a cheap, tawdry way to treat people who respected him and worked hard for him.

Ransom came in. “There you two are. I'm ready to load and leave.”

“So are we.” Gretchen reached into her reticule for the fabric money.

Cassie picked up a handful of boxes. “Since so much of this is mine, I'd better help, don't you think?”

He almost smiled. “Whatever you wish. Are you sure you have enough shells?”

Did he mean that as sarcasm or was it a sincere question? She would treat it as sincere, since sarcasm and humor went together, and he had very little in the way of a sense of humor, but tons more than his father, Mavis had insisted. “I do. Mr. McKittrick is reordering for the show.”

“You've been working hard with Wind Dancer.” He carried out one of the cartons, Cassie right behind him. “Hours every day.”

“I'm so afraid I'll mess up, or Wind Dancer will get confused and misstep. Or something else will go wrong. And it's taking so much longer to get back into show form than I thought it would. This show is very important to Mr. Porter, and I want to do well.”

They stowed the shells against his carton and went back inside.

Gretchen carried their fabric out.

Cassie picked up another armful of shells. “Did Mr. Hansel have the brackets you need?”

Ransom went out the door with another big box. “He made them for me on the spot. That's why it took me so long. But they're exactly what we want. He made me a couple extras, just in case.”

They nested the shells in between the two big boxes. The wagon rattled and vibrated so much, the shell boxes sometimes walked around on the wagon bed if they weren't secured. Ransom shoved the third large box against the other two. The shells were trapped inside now so they wouldn't go dancing around.

Gretchen announced, “I'm putting these lamps on top of the fabric so they don't jiggle so much.”

Ransom studied his fine old farm wagon. “Maybe I should talk to Emerson about some new springs for this thing.”

“Oh, I wouldn't do that!” Gretchen's voice dripped sarcasm. “It's only thirty or forty years old. Let's wait another decade.”

Cassie giggled. “Gretchen, you ride up front with your brother, and I'll ride in back.”

“No, I want to hold the lamps. They're so breakable.” She hopped over the backboard and settled in amongst their purchases.

So Cassie climbed up the wheel to the box.

“Ransom!” From down the street came a very familiar voice. Lucas!

He broke his horse into a canter, dragged it to a halt in front of them, and swung down.

Ransom climbed up into the box. “I got nothing to say to you.” He gathered up the lines to leave, but Lucas grabbed hold of the near rein.