“Can’t be holding it against the little ones. Their mama’s the one who doesn’t seem to get along with anyone. I thought the children were pretty decent—given what they were exposed to.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Dianne fell silent for a moment, then began again. “Griselda accused me of having it easy—of living the good life while she suffers.”
“You probably do have a better life than anything she’s been allowed,” Charity said, bringing a delicate china teapot to the table.
Dianne admired the ivory piece for a moment, noting the dainty posies painted in reds, oranges, and pinks. She looked up and blurted out, “I’ve suffered—maybe not in losing a husband or children, but I’ve suffered. I’ve lost most of my family, and that should count for something.”
Charity took a seat and smiled. “Didn’t know you and Griselda were having a contest.”
Dianne frowned. “It wasn’t a contest. It’s just that Griselda thinks I’m out here living an easy life.”
“Why do you care what she thinks? You have no respect for the woman, and frankly, she’s done nothing to deserve any. Why does it matter what she says or thinks or does?”
Dianne realized Charity was right. “It just hurt, that’s all.
Uncle Bram’s death is so fresh, and I still don’t know what’s happened to Cole.”
“It must be hard for you—waiting and watching. Has there been no other word from your young man?”
“Nothing,” Dianne admitted. “I can’t pretend I’m not scared half to death for him. Especially after being in town and hearing all the gruesome stories about troubles on the plains—especially in the area where Cole and the wagon train were to pass. There were reports that a wagon train had been attacked somewhere north of Cheyenne. I can’t help but worry that it might have been Cole’s.”
Charity poured a cup of tea for Dianne and one for herself.
“And what will you do if it was and he’s gone?”
Dianne shook her head. “I don’t know.” She picked up the cup and stared at the contents, as if she could read the answer in the tea. “Levi asked me that same question yesterday. I had no more of an answer for him than I have for you.”
“It’s a very real possibility. One that none of us likes to think about, but one that may very well come to pass.”
Dianne swirled the tea and nodded. “I know,” she barely whispered. “I keep thinking of Cole . . . wondering what’s happened. I vacillate between hoping that rather than be dead at the hand of Indians or because of sickness, he’s just run off with another woman.” She lifted her gaze to Charity and added, “Then I find myself feeling much kinder toward his death than his unfaithfulness. Isn’t that just awful?”
Charity chuckled. “Spoken like a true woman. You’ve grown up these last six years.”
“To be sure. Sometimes I don’t even remember that little girl who came west. I was such a child. Do you know I packed satin dancing slippers in my trunk? Mama told us to take what was important to us—what we could fit in our trunks. I still don’t know why I took them. I guess there was something in me that found them important, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it was.”
“Maybe it was your girlish hopes and dreams. Every woman wants to have some beauty in her life. Maybe you thought the slippers would give you that.”
“But I have only to step out the door to see beauty,” Dianne replied. She put the teacup down and leaned back in her chair.
“Maybe it was the simplicity they represented. Maybe it was knowing what was expected of me and being able to live up to those expectations.”
“But now all of that has changed,” Charity stated more than questioned.
Dianne nodded. “Now I’m responsible for the ranch and a herd of over six hundred head. I have people living here who are dependent upon my actions and my making the right choices.”
“But you’re just as dependent upon them,” Charity replied.
“If their choices are poor, you will suffer. If their decisions are good, then you benefit. It’s because you’re all here together— working as one body. Like the Good Book says, the body needs all its parts to make it work right. You are the head of this ranch, but you need the others to get things done. You aren’t alone in this unless you choose to be.”
Dianne thought over her words for a moment. Charity always had a way of helping her to see through the darkness. “I suppose you’re right. I just didn’t figure to be the head of anything. I thought that would fall to my husband.”
“Only you don’t have a husband.”
The words stung, but Dianne knew she needed to hear the truth of them.
“No,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “I don’t have a husband.”
CHAPTER 14
FOR A FEW DAYS LIFE AT THE RANCH SEEMED TO COME together in a slow but orderly fashion. It was almost like a steam train building up speed from a dead stop. Slow methodic movements at first, then more and more fluid action as the time lengthened and distance could be put between themselves and Bram’s death.
Gus took the cattle north with a promise to return in a few weeks if the weather held. He wanted to check in on them and make sure everyone was handling things well in Bram’s absence.
Dianne knew that no amount of checking in would ease her concerns, however. The winter promised to be long and hard, and the first snows were already falling, giving her even more reason to worry.
Her worries proved to be valid when troubles began less than twenty-four hours after Gus headed out.
Koko had shown very little of herself in the passing days. She seldom came to the dinner table, preferring instead to eat in her room with the children. Dianne was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when Koko appeared in the kitchen, her dark eyes
8 sunken, black half-moons hollowing the skin beneath. She was dressed in Blackfoot fashion with a long leather dress. She’d even braided her coal black hair in two thick plaits.
Dianne put her dishtowel aside and smiled. “I was just wondering about you. How are you feeling?”
“I’m all right, but Jamie’s sick.”
Dianne felt her heart sink. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s burning up. I’ve used the last of my willow bark to brew him tea, but I’m going to need more.”
“I’ll go for it,” Dianne said, moving toward the back porch to get her coat. “What do you think is wrong?”
Koko shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s not hungry and he complains of pain in his head and joints. I don’t know if that’s just the fever or something else.”
Dianne picked up a flour sack and tucked it under her arm.
“Where’s the best bark?”
“Those trees downstream where we picked the berries last summer should give you the best quality,” Koko said, her expression pinched with worry.
Dianne reached out to touch her aunt. They’d had very little chance to talk since Bram had died. “It’ll be all right,” Dianne declared. “I’ll be praying as I go. You pray too, and just care for Jamie. Do you want me to send Faith or Charity over to take care of Susannah?”
Koko nodded. “I’m just afraid, Dianne. What if—” Dianne shook her head and interrupted what was sure to be a morbid thought. “Don’t say it. He’ll be fine. Children get sick sometimes. It happens. Don’t be afraid.”
Koko let out a ragged breath. “It’s just so hard.”
Dianne hugged her close. “I know, but we love you and we’re here for you. All of us. Faith. Charity. Me. Of course the guys care about you too.” For a moment Dianne let the silence fall between them. She refused to let go of Koko, but she did pull back enough to meet her gaze. Koko’s dark brown eyes seemed to search Dianne’s face—almost as if answers could be found there.
“I’ll pray,” Koko finally said. “Please hurry.”
Dianne flew into action. She rushed to find Faith and managed to locate the woman near the chicken house. “Jamie is sick.
I’m g
oing to fetch more willow bark. Are you feeling well enough to care for Susannah?” Dianne knew Faith had suffered with some bouts of morning sickness, and she hated to put any extra duties on the woman.
“Of course. I can fix lunch too, if you like.”
“That would be good. It may be a long day and even longer night. Let’s all eat supper together. I think that would do much to bolster my spirits.”
Faith nodded and Dianne hurried off to saddle Dolly. The buckskin mare seemed to understand the urgency. She pranced nervously as Dianne finished with the cinch.
“Hold still, you silly girl. This is important.”
The horse calmed, but Dianne knew she was feeling the tension of the moment. Dolly always seemed to know when Dianne was upset.
She gave the mare a gentle rub on the nose. “It’ll be all right,” she murmured—as much for herself as for Dolly. “It must be all right.”
Dianne strapped an ax to the horse’s side, then glanced at the wall where they kept two rifles for emergencies. Remembering Uncle Bram’s incident with the bear, Dianne took down one of the rifles and checked to make sure it was loaded. She hadn’t worried much about such things in the past, but now she felt precautions were very important. And while it was true that Bram had been carrying a gun when the bear attacked and still wasn’t able to save himself, Dianne felt better knowing the weapon was at her side.
Dianne mounted and hurried Dolly down the path toward the river and the willows. In her mind she calculated all the possibilities for what could be wrong with Jamie. Children got sick all the time, but they seemed strong, even resilient to things that often caused much worse trouble for adults. On the wagon train, Dianne had seen many a person get sick with the measles, but the children seemed to recover more easily. She prayed for Jamie, all the while hoping it wouldn’t be anything as serious as measles.
The frosty morning air left Dianne exhilarated and refreshed.
Snow fell in a light swirling pattern, reminding Dianne of downy feathers. There was only a dusting on the ground, but the world had already calmed into that strange insulated silence that always came with snow. Had circumstances been different, she might have stayed out all day just to think and pray. But the situation wouldn’t allow for that, as was often the case.
Funny, she thought, it wasn’t for a lack of desire that she seemed to spend less and less time in prayer. It was the busyness of life that seemed to keep her from the things she loved.
“I’m sorry, Lord. I’m sorry I allow myself to get caught up in such things, but if I don’t take charge and do the work, who will?” She didn’t really expect an answer, for in her heart Dianne was convinced that this was the position God had ordained for her. After all, He alone could have kept Bram from dying, but He didn’t.
Reaching the willows, Dianne quickly dismounted and pushed such thoughts aside. She tied off Dolly, then unfastened the ax and went to work peeling bark from the trees. A breeze picked up and whipped at her skirt while the river gurgled and danced on the rocks behind her. The earlier silence faded as the sounds of nature came to life. Somewhere to her right, Dianne heard a branch snap.
Holding the ax close, Dianne glanced away from the trees and strained to listen. Dolly acted more skittish than she’d been, moving from side to side as if to see what enemy approached. Dianne saw the rifle in the scabbard on her saddle. She’d been foolish not to take the rifle with her to the trees. Gently lowering the ax to the ground, Dianne crossed the distance as quickly and quietly as she could.
She had barely reached the rifle when she heard a grunt behind her. Whirling with the rifle in hand, she found Takes Many Horses suppressing his amusement.
He pointed to the rifle. “You gonna shoot us?”
Dianne breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you were a bear.”
“That would be Leaping Deer. He makes so much noise we should change his name to Crashing Bear.”
Dianne smiled and waited as he whistled for his companions.
Three Blackfoot warriors emerged from the thicket of trees and brush. They looked tired, maybe even sick. Sick! The thought brought Jamie back to mind.
“I need willow bark. Jamie is ill and has a high fever,” she explained, hurrying back to where she’d dropped the ax. “Can you help me?”
Takes Many Horses and his friends didn’t question that she was asking them to do women’s work. They pulled out long knives and made short work of the task at hand. Within a few minutes they had more than enough bark.
The Indians retrieved their horses, and together they all made their way back to the ranch house with Dianne. “I know your sister will be glad to see you,” Dianne began. “She’s been so troubled and overwhelmed in her grief.”
“What grief?” Takes Many Horses asked.
Dianne suddenly realized that he’d not heard about Bram. “Bram died. He was attacked by a grizzly, and we couldn’t save him.” She saw the man’s expression tighten. He wasn’t one for showing much emotion, but Dianne knew he was very close to Bram. Her uncle had been like a father to him in many ways.
“I’m sorry to just announce it like that,” she added. “I know it’s not easy to hear.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s gone. He always dealt fairly with me and with my sister. I never knew a better man.”
“I know. He was like a father to me.”
They approached the house and Dianne motioned to the entourage. “If you want to put your horses in the corral over there, that would be fine. I’ve got to get this bark inside,” she said, holding up the flour sack.
“I’ll take your horse. Tell my sister I’m here and that I’ll see her in a few minutes.”
Dianne nodded and handed a very nervous Dolly over to Takes Many Horses. “We’ll need to stay the night,” he said as he turned the horses. “We can sleep in the barn.”
He stated this so matter-of-factly that Dianne had no chance to reply. It didn’t set well with her, however. There was no reason for Koko’s brother and his friends to sleep in the barn when most of the house sat empty. Maybe I can rectify that later.
Dianne hurried inside with the bark and called out, “Koko, I’m back.”
Her aunt appeared almost instantaneously. “Thank you. He’s still the same.” She took up the sack and moved to prepare the tea.
Dianne followed her. “Your brother is here. He’s come with several friends.”
Koko glanced up but never stopped working. “I’m glad he’s come. I felt so bad about not being able to let him know about Bram. Did you tell him?”
“Yes. I thought you’d want me to prepare him. I’m sure the news wasn’t easy to take.”
“No,” Koko said, shaking her head. “He loved Bram very much. This will hurt him deeply.”
“It’s good, then, that he can be here with those who love and care about him.” Koko said nothing, but continued working with the bark. Dianne prayed her aunt would find comfort in Takes Many Horses’ appearance, but she was beginning to wonder if that would be possible. If her brother became as grieved as Koko was, neither one would be able to help the other.
After supper that night, Dianne went to the barn to do her routine check of the animals. She’d come to love the quiet moments alone with the stock. The men had taken many of the horses up north with the herd. Gus would bring some of them back and leave some of them up north with the ranch hands.
Most of the breeding stock were in newly fenced pasture close to the house. They would find the dried grass beneath the snow and even use the snow for moisture, as well as enjoy daily distributions of hay. Winter would not be so difficult for them.
Dianne came to the new white mare they’d purchased. The horse seemed eager for company and trotted up to see what kind of attention Dianne might give. “You’re going to be a fine asset, aren’t you, girl?” The mare was high-spirited and strong, two very necessary characteristics needed to survive in the territory.
“My sister tells me that you now own th
e ranch,” Takes Many Horses said, surprising Dianne with his sudden appearance. Dianne turned and met his intense gaze. His dark eyes glistened in the lantern light. “That’s right.”
“It should belong to Koko and her family.”
“I know that,” Dianne replied. “And as far as I’m concerned, it does. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything with the place without Koko’s approval. I think it’s foolish that there are laws against allowing her to inherit land.”
“The whites don’t even recognize them as married. Why would they believe there was anything to inherit?”
“I suppose you’re right.” The silence fell thick between them.
Dianne could see that Takes Many Horses was watching her, almost as if he wanted to ask her something but couldn’t.
“Hard times are coming—are here,” Takes Many Horses said as he leaned back casually against a pen, “where the Blackfoot and all the other tribes will be forgotten. The Real People talk about it—wonder what to do.” He glanced out past Dianne, as if seeing the future play itself out before him.
“There’s no hope for changing things. The whites will come and continue pushing the Real People off their land—away from all they love. It happened back East; it will happen here.”
Dianne nodded. “Bram often spoke of it. I’m sorry something better can’t be done. You know how much I love Koko— it doesn’t matter to me that she’s part Blackfoot.”
“But it matters to the rest of the world,” Takes Many Horses replied sadly.
“But it doesn’t matter here. Why not stay?” Dianne asked.
She brushed off bits of straw from her long wool skirt, then looked up to add, “Koko could use you now. It would be a help to her having you here. You could teach Jamie about the Blackfoot, and Suzy too.”
“And what else would I do? Be a cowboy? Herd cattle? Cut my hair and dress as a white man, hoping all the while no one would see me for who I really am?”
“But you’re just as much white as you are Blackfoot,” Dianne protested.
“No, that’s where you’re wrong.” He stepped forward, his expression stern. “My heart is Blackfoot. I’m one of them, even if it costs me my life. I can’t be white. Not in my thinking nor in the thinking of your people.”
The Coming Storm Page 14
