To Dream Anew (30 page)

“I’m fwour,” Lucy said, holding up her hand to reveal four fingers.

Dianne laughed. “Yes, I know you are. I was at your birthday party, remember?”

Lucy nodded. “You gave me a dolly with a red dress.”

Dianne couldn’t believe the child had remembered. “Yes, that’s right. I did. Do you still play with her?”

Lucy shook her head, her black braid bouncing. “She gots a broken leg.”

Dianne looked to Faith, who hurried to explain how a cloth doll could have a broken leg. “I’m afraid our dog, Bart, decided to take a bite out of Miss Dolly. We need to repair her. She’s amongst my sewing projects for today.”

“Well, then, we’d best get to it, hadn’t we?”

Charity turned to Ardith and embraced her. “How’s our girl? Are you keeping Levi happy?”

“Oh, your cheeks are so cold—come in by the fire,” Ardith said, pulling Charity along. “And yes, we’re both very happy.”

They gathered in the smaller sitting room, where the heat could be more contained and hence, more effective. Dianne took her seat and pulled out a basket of sewing projects.

“So what’s the news from Madison? Did the new dressmaker come in from Denver?”

“She arrived just before that first heavy snow last week,” Charity announced. “It was the day after Portia married Chester Lawrence.”

“They finally married? What kept them so long? Cynthia’s been dead at least what—four, five months?” Dianne asked sarcastically.

“Well, at least they aren’t living in sin,” Charity declared. “I much prefer to see folks legally wed. Ben performed the ceremony. Said it wasn’t much, but they seemed happy. The children didn’t seem too pleased, however. I don’t reckon they cotton to the idea of a stepmother who’s so much younger than their father.”

“Maybe they just don’t like Portia,” Dianne replied. She tried to focus on her sewing, but the old anger was creeping into her heart.

“Well, that aside, the deed is done. Her little house was rented to the dressmaker. That’s why I thought of it in the first place,” Charity said, beginning to stitch on a quilt square.

“Those Lawrences are certainly a mean bunch,” Faith said as she settled Mercy and Lucy with a piece of embroidery to work on. “Malachi had a run-in with the oldest—Jerrod. That boy has a hot temper, and he isn’t afraid to lash out at anybody who offends him.”

“How did Malachi offend him?” Ardith asked.

Faith shrugged. “Jerrod had brought in a string of horses to be shod. Malachi did the job and then Jerrod started ranting about how the shoes were poorly made—how Malachi’s work was shoddy. He told him he wouldn’t pay, so Malachi started taking the shoes back off. Jerrod really lost his temper then. He began throwing whatever he could lay his hands on and finally Malachi told him to either pay and get out or leave until he could remove all the shoes.”

“What did he do?” Dianne asked, hoping there hadn’t been a fight over the matter.

“Jerrod backed down. He paid and left. He was heard muttering obscenities all the way out of town.”

Charity shook her head. “That family is obviously suffering. The good Lord needs a better place in their hearts.”

“The Lord doesn’t need a better place,” Dianne replied snidely. “He needs to be introduced there first.”

“Well, let’s not gossip,” Charity said, offering Dianne a warm smile. “I’d much rather hear about your boys. How are they doing?”

Dianne realized it was probably for the best that they put aside discussion of Portia and the Lawrences. “John is cutting teeth again. Micah is Luke’s constant shadow, and Luke follows poor Jamie around like some puppy who has found his long lost master.”

Charity laughed. “I can just see it.”

“Jamie is not very kind about Luke’s adoration, I’m afraid.” Koko picked up a piece of tanned hide and added, “He often shuns the boy in favor of work. Something I didn’t think I’d ever see.”

The ladies laughed and Dianne had to admit it made her feel much better to share the humor of their lives instead of their sorrows.

“What other pleasant news can we share?” Faith asked as she began to work on Miss Dolly.

Ardith cleared her throat and let her sewing rest on her lap. “I have some news.” Everyone looked up. She smiled and held up a tiny white flannel baby gown. “Levi and I are going to have a child.”

Dianne lowered her gaze to the shirt she’d been working on for Luke. Ardith had confided the news to her several days ago. The expected baby seemed to give Ardith a zest for life that even Levi and Winona had failed to bring.

Charity was thrilled. “Oh, I had hoped for this. I didn’t want it to be too soon, but then for me, it couldn’t be soon enough. I feel like I’m going to be a grandma all over again.”

“Yes, you will be grandmother to our baby. Levi and I have already determined that.”

“I’m so happy for you, Ardith,” Faith said. “But you know what this means, ladies. We must put away our other sewing and make things for this baby.”

“That’s right,” Koko agreed. “You’ll need lots of things.”

“When is the baby going to come?” Charity asked.

Ardith blushed. “As near as I can tell, August.”

Charity clapped her hands together. “Good. A nice summer baby. Those are best around these parts. It’ll have a good chance to put on some fat before winter.”

“You make the baby sound like one of the calves,” Dianne said, laughing.

“Well, maybe so, but in these parts, it’s best to go into winter with a little extra weight, rather than too little.”

“I agree with Faith,” Dianne said, tying off the seam she’d just sewn. “I think we need to make plans to get together at least once a month to make clothes for Ardith’s baby.”

“And maybe some other ladies will eventually join us,” Charity added. “I know few want to travel out in this cold, but maybe come spring.”

“Come spring we’ll be rounding up the herd and branding calves. You know how busy things get,” Dianne replied. “We’ll be lucky if we have time for a short spell of sitting, much less an afternoon of sewing.”

“Maybe we should all plan to help with roundup,” Ardith suggested. “We could go out and cook and share company. The children would enjoy it too.”

Dianne nodded, feeling a stir of excitement. “I haven’t been to a roundup in a long time. It might be just the thing. Cole already planned to take Luke, so maybe he won’t mind the entire family coming along.”

“Malachi will be there. Cole already asked him to come and see to anything that was needed. I don’t think he’d mind if we joined him,” Faith said, grinning. “Not if he knows it’s for a good cause.”

“I’ll talk to Ben, and if he agrees to the idea, I’ll get the word out at church and let the other ranchers’ wives know,” Charity declared. “That way, maybe we’ll get some of the other ladies to join us.”

For Dianne the plan was a mixed blessing. She worried that Portia would show up with Lawrence’s daughters, even though Cole and Levi had pastured their cattle as far away from the Walking Horseshoe as possible.

Still, I shouldn’t borrow trouble,
she chided herself.
Mama always said trouble would come looking for you all by itself—without invitation. Seems she was right. But she didn’t tell me trouble’s name was Portia Langford Lawrence
.

CHAPTER
21

P
ORTIA’S LIFE AS
C
HESTER
L
AWRENCE’S WIFE WAS NOT AT
all what she had anticipated. First there were the early morning risings that Chester insisted on. He wasn’t about to have his wife linger in bed when the day was underway. Portia argued that there was a housekeeper and a cook to see to the family’s needs and she needn’t lose sleep over such matters. But Chester would have no part of it.

Added to this was trouble in the form of Chester’s two older boys, Jerrod and Roy. None of the Lawrence children liked her, but Jerrod and Roy were downright dangerous. It was nothing for them to pass Portia in the hall and shove her out of the way. One morning before she went for a ride, Portia even found her cinch strap cut just enough that if she’d gone into a gallop it would have torn completely in two. There was no way to prove that Jerrod and Roy had done it, but she was confident they were responsible.

The third son, Joshua, was a little better. He was the only gentle spirit among the brothers. He had a poet’s heart, Portia thought. He read a great deal and loved to discuss intellectual matters. He was kind to Portia, but his demeanor was an irritation.

Then there were Mara and Elsa. Neither girl wanted anything to do with Portia, and that was fine by her. Mara was at least civil, but Elsa was belligerent and hostile. Elsa constantly badgered Portia about stealing her father and being the death of her mother. Of course Portia knew the girl didn’t know the truth. No one did. Cynthia Lawrence’s death had been chalked off to intestinal troubles. The doctor even suspected a blocked bowel.

The only truly nice thing was that the Walking Horseshoe was a lovely ranch. The house wasn’t nearly as grand as the Diamond V, but Portia could be patient knowing they’d soon take over the Selbys’ house and lands. The thought positively exhilarated her, and as she rode out across the valley on this pleasant April day and headed up into the hills, Portia felt confident that all of her plans were finally coming together.

“There has to be a way to deal with his children,” she muttered.

She’d suggested to Chester that the boys were all too old to be living at home—that they should perhaps file for land of their own and create an even bigger empire. But that was when Chester explained that they had done just that. The Lawrence sons had land that adjoined the Walking Horseshoe. They were even working to prove up the claim and meet the homesteading requirements.

The very idea of those animals being around for much longer, however, kept Portia from truly enjoying her accomplishments. The girls she could get married off. There were enough cowboys and other eligible young men in the territory to marry them each several times over. Women were scarce in these parts. Portia had received at least a dozen proposals a month since coming back to Montana after Ned’s death.

Ned.

The very thought of him irritated her. She couldn’t help but stew over Trenton Chadwick and R. E. Langford’s plans to get her back to Maryland. The feeling of betrayal left her heart more firmly encased in ice than it had been before. How could a father make such plans against his own flesh and blood?

Portia reined back the horse and paused as she spotted Jerrod and Roy approaching from the west. She contemplated making a dash back to the ranch, but then decided she wasn’t about to live her life in fear. There was no sense to that.

She waited them out, not even bothering to ride down to meet them. Jerrod spit chaw and halted his sorrel stallion not but a foot away. Roy did likewise with his black. The gelding seemed unnerved by the sorrel, however, and kept dancing back and forth between Jerrod’s mount and Portia’s.

“What do you want?” Portia asked, casually draping her gloved hands atop the horn.

“What I want is you out of our lives,” Jerrod grumbled. “I’ve never had much use for you, and I have even less now.”

“You may have blinded our father,” Roy declared, “but we see you for what you are.”

Portia feigned indifference. “And what would that be?” she asked, as though bored with the conversation.

“You’re after him for his money,” Roy replied, “but you’re too late. My father’s will leaves his property and money to his children. Not wives. Even our mother didn’t stand to inherit.”

Portia tried not to appear surprised by the news. Instead she looked hard at Roy. “Do you think your father hasn’t discussed all of his financial arrangements with me? Do you suppose I’m stupid enough to marry any man without knowing the truth of his business? Do yourselves a favor. You’re both old enough to make a life for yourself elsewhere. Why don’t you each find a wife and make your own home. It’s hardly your father’s place to Take care of you and wipe your snotty noses for the rest of his life.”

“You’re nothin’ but an uppity female with big notions,” Jerrod said, the anger in his tone clear. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “You’d better heed our warning, lady. We don’t want you here. We don’t want you stealin’ from us. Why not do yourself a favor and have this sham of a marriage annulled?”

Portia arched a brow and smiled sardonically. “And what makes you believe, for even one moment, that my marriage is a sham? I’m making your father a very happy man, but I can make you two just as unhappy.”

“You ain’t got the guts to make us anything. You watch yourself. One of these days you’ll ride out here and meet with an accident,” Roy said, turning his horse. “Come on, Jerrod. I’ve had about as much of her as I can stand.”

Jerrod opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if he’d forgotten what he was about to say. Instead he pointed his gloved finger at her, then wheeled the stallion around and headed off down the hillside.

“Abominable little monsters,” Portia spewed. She knew from past experience that matters like these had to be dealt with early on. Jerrod and Roy had been harassing her for months. Now was the time to teach them a lesson.

“You watch yourself. One of these days you’ll ride out here and meet with an accident.”
Roy’s words echoed in her mind.

“Of course,” Portia murmured, smiling. “I just might.”

She would have to stage things carefully. If she fell with too much force, she might really hurt herself. If she didn’t fall with enough momentum, she wouldn’t do the appropriate damage.

Pressing her horse into a run, she skirted through pines and rocky outcroppings. She knew the perfect place to set her plan in motion. She’d nearly taken a tumble there two days earlier.

Portia rounded several stubby cottonwoods and a tall pine. As she maneuvered around the last of the trees and headed up a small embankment, she yanked back hard on the reins, stunning the horse and causing him to rear. As he did, she slid off its back and tumbled end over end. She landed hard, much harder than she’d intended.

Unable to slow her downward momentum, Portia smacked up against a boulder, hitting the side of her face and her right shoulder. For a moment, she saw stars and worried that she’d done more damage than she’d intended.