To Dream Anew (9 page)

“Well, the first thing is to go change your clothes. You can hardly work in that,” Dianne declared. Just being around the richness of Portia’s heavily embroidered silk dress made Dianne nervous. The creation must have cost a fortune, and while there was a good deal of fraying at the hem, Dianne wanted no part in causing further damage to the gown.

“And what would you suggest I wear?” Portia asked smugly.

“Koko and I have managed to put together a few things for you.” Dianne smiled. “You may not like this arrangement, and for that I’m sorry. If you were a guest staying only a few days, it would never be an issue. But you must understand that there is a great deal of preparation for winter, and everyone is needed to work. Once that’s done and most of the men lead the herd to winter pasture, we’ll have it a little bit easier. But even then we need to help one another so that no one person bears more of a load than the other.”

Portia seemed to consider the words for a moment. “Very well. If that’s the way it has to be in order to receive hospitality—then so be it. I must say life in the West is nothing like the more civilized East.”

“No, I’m sure that’s true,” Dianne replied. “But then again, in the East you needn’t fear Indian attack, or a bear wandering into camp, or facing starvation because you failed to prepare for the long isolated winter. Out here we have no need of pampered ladies and their finery. We need strong women who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Believe me, your boredom will pass soon enough.”

Portia looked hard at Dianne and with that gaze, Dianne knew that she’d made an enemy of the widow. There was a hard glint in her eyes that suggested in other circumstances Dianne would not have come out of this confrontation unscathed. It was hard to know which enemy to fear more—the ones from outside the ranch or the one from within.

“If I had my way about it,” Portia muttered as she pulled off her gown, “I’d leave this place and never return. How I hate this isolated land.” She threw the gown on the floor, then stared after it. Realizing that no one would come and care for it, Portia reached down and retrieved it.

She smoothed out the dress, turning it right side out again. She draped it over the back of a chair, then stared at her wardrobe, searching for the “appropriate garment” Dianne claimed to have supplied.

“I can’t believe I’m reduced to this, and all because of R. E. Langford and his greed.” She hated even thinking of her father-in-law. The man always managed to irritate her, even though he was miles away in Baltimore.

“I was never good enough for you, was I?” she asked, reaching for a plain dress of dark blue serge. “I was never good enough for your social circles—your high and mighty friends and their uppity ways.”

She yanked the gown from the wardrobe. “Never mind that I was moving in better circles in New York and London—circles that you would never be welcomed in. Never mind that I was the toast of Paris and that we never went without invitation to the finest homes and the best parties.”

She attacked the dress, pulling it over her head as though it were a noose. “How dare you leave me like this! Destitute—facing financial ruin.”

She hated R. E. Langford. Hated him almost as much as she’d hated his sniveling coward of a son.

They moved toward winter with Portia doing as little as she could get away with as far as helping around the house. The ranch hands finished the fall roundup, and before the first snows fell in the valley, they moved out with the herd.

Dianne always dreaded the time when the men moved the cattle to winter pasture. The ranch took on such an abandoned feel. The rumors of Indian attack had calmed somewhat, but there was always concern.

Cole went with the men to see the herd secured, then returned two days before a heavy snow buried the roads and made passage impossible. Dianne was glad for his safety and the fact that he would be with her through the winter instead of out on the range guarding the cattle.

December brought more snow and a feeling of isolation that weighed heavy on Dianne’s heart. She worried about her sister and whether Ardith would adjust to her new life. Portia often made snide comments for which Dianne had to take her to task. It seemed the widow felt Ardith would have been better off dead. No doubt many felt that way, but not Dianne.

The New Year was celebrated in a somber manner. Luke had taken sick with a cough and runny nose. He seemed constantly to pull at his right ear, and Koko had declared him to have an infection. She treated him with herbs and warm smoke, and before long the baby, who’d turned a year old two days before Christmas, was up and taking full run of the house.

On cold January nights, the family was sometimes rewarded with a spectacular show of northern lights. Koko had shared that her ancestors believed the lights held mystical powers. Some even thought conception would be easier during the light show—as if The lights could somehow create life.

Dianne stood at her window watching the night skies blaze red, then fade to green and white. She never tired of the show, but tonight it made her especially joyful. She’d just come to realize she was expecting another baby, even without the help of the lights.

Cole yawned as he entered their bedroom. “It’s cold out there,” he said as he closed the door. He went immediately to their fireplace and began putting on enough logs for the night.

Dianne turned from the window. She pulled her wool shawl close and smiled as she watched Cole work.

“Despite the snow, I don’t really think we’re in for a bad winter.” He straightened and noted her face. “What are you grinning about?”

“I have some news,” she said, coming to him. “Very good news. Do you want to guess?”

He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “They’ve captured Sitting Bull and his men?” he teased.

“No, silly.”

“Portia has decided to leave?”

“I wish that were true,” she said, relishing the feel of Cole’s embrace.

“Hmm,” he murmured as his lips touched against her neck. “I’ve run out of guesses.”

Dianne giggled. “We’re going to have another baby.”

Cole straightened. “Truly?” His expression was filled with wonder. “Another baby?”

She nodded. “Come late spring or early summer.”

He hugged her tightly, then released her. “That’s the best news ever. Luke turned out so good, we must be doing something right.”

“Children are a gift from the Lord,” she said. “I think we should give credit where it’s due.”

“To be sure,” Cole replied, then surprised Dianne by sweeping her off her feet and into his arms. “To be sure.”

CHAPTER
7

July 1877

“H
E’S NOTHING
L
IKE LUKE,”
D
IANNE SAID AS SHE CUDDLED
her newest baby. Micah, now nearly two months old, was a fussy, needy child.

“Every child is different,” Koko told her niece. “I think I can mix a few things together to ease his upset stomach.”

“Babies are more trouble than their worth, if you ask me,” Portia said absentmindedly. She looked up quickly, as if suddenly realizing she’d spoken the words aloud. “It’s just that out here,” she hurried to explain, “babies are so easily lost to sickness and the isolation.”

“It’s true that raising children in the wilderness is more difficult,” Koko agreed, “but they are certainly worth the effort. Especially when a woman is in our situation—being a widow.”

Portia frowned. “I suppose it might have been nice to have Ned’s child, but the thought of raising a child without a father would be terrifying.”

Koko nodded. “It is hard. I would trade most anything to have Bram back with us. The children miss him horribly. There isn’t a day that goes by that one or the other doesn’t encounter some Papa-sized hole that Bram would have perfectly filled.”

Dianne saw tears form in her aunt’s eyes, but Portia turned away and walked to the front widow to gaze outside for the tenth or eleventh time. “I don’t understand why we can’t have word from the army. My father should at least have time to write.”

Dianne put Micah to her shoulder and began patting his back. No one wanted Portia gone from the Diamond V more than she did. The woman, although she lended a hand at times, was still a constant bother. She would often feign confusion on how to do some task or work some piece of equipment, all the while knowing that it would be easier for someone else to step in and handle the situation rather than take time to teach Portia all over again. “Sometimes those things don’t work out—especially given all the conflicts.”

“Well, with the governor calling for volunteers to help capture the Indians, you’d think they could at least give some of the army men a short time away with their families.”

Dianne shook her head at the thought. “Those men enlist with the knowledge that they must see their duties through to completion.”

Portia turned, her expression icy cold. “Don’t lecture me about the responsibilities or duties of soldiers. I’ve lived with this nonsense all of my life.”

Dianne could feel her resentment. The look on the widow’s face made her feel uneasy. “I wasn’t trying to lecture. My own brother is out there risking his life for our safety. He knows the price that has to be paid—your father knows it as well. They’ve both chosen to pay that price.”

“Well, they should have asked their family if they were willing to pay it as well.”

Dianne knew there would be no reasoning with the woman. While Portia would lovingly talk about her mother and of her desire to make things right with her father in one breath, she would verbally condemn her parents in the next. There was a dangerous and mean-spirited underlying current that was the very essence of Portia Langford. Trenton knew it to be true as well. He’d warned Dianne many times that the woman was not to be trusted.

Micah began to cry more earnestly. He kept drawing his legs up to his stomach, and Dianne knew his discomfort was acute.

“Let me take him,” Koko said softly. “I miss taking care of babies. I’ll see if I can rock him to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Dianne said. Her own exhaustion after being up with the baby through the night was wearing her nerves thin.

“Susannah can play with Luke. Why don’t you go and take a little nap? I’ll see to everything here.”

Dianne couldn’t quite stifle her yawn. “I think that sounds wise. Especially if Master Micah is planning another difficult night for me.”

“I’m going for a ride,” Portia said, obviously bored with both women and their talk of children.

“Stay close,” Dianne warned. “No one knows where the Sioux and Cheyenne are hiding these days. Rumors are running wild that there are Indians as close as Ennis. We need to be wise.”

“I can take care of myself,” Portia declared, stomping from the room as though Dianne had insulted her.

“For someone who can take care of herself,” Koko commented, “she certainly relies on the help of others often enough.”

Dianne smiled. “I can’t figure her. There’s a presence about her at times that seems so lost—so troubled. For all her attentiveness to Ben’s sermons on Sunday mornings and her continued comments about mending fences with her father, I just don’t think that woman has any real idea what it is to live as an example of Christ’s love.”

“I think she’s playing a role—nothing more,” Koko said, shaking her head. “I think she’s memorized her lines and has come to believe them as truth, rather than the script she’s made for herself.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Dianne said, yawning once again.

“Go,” Koko urged. “I will care for the boys. You go rest.”