The Coming Storm

by Tracie Peterson

  “We’ve got a lot of twin births this year. That’s a good omen,” he said as they shared breakfast.

  Dianne looked out across the field. The mothering up had been fairly easy, and today they would start branding. She was even pleased to see that two other local ranchers had joined in the event, bringing their wives along with their crew.

  “Mrs. Farley from the Lazy MW says they’ve had a very productive year as well. She actually seems more knowledgeable about such matters than her husband. She’s out there directing her crew as if she were in charge.”

  Gus laughed. “I think she’s just the kind of woman who doesn’t cotton to lettin’ someone else run things. Her man’s a good one, seems to take her in stride. I ain’t sure I could be the same way.”

  Dianne grinned. “Are you giving me a warning, Gus?”

  He appeared embarrassed. “Now, don’t go puttin’ words in my mouth, Miz Dianne. You know I think highly of you.”

  “Yes, but you also know I consult you on everything related to running this ranch. What if I were to just up and get bossy about things? Get out there like Mrs. Farley and try to tell you what to do.”

  “Well, frankly, I have to admit the little lady knows her business. As I hear it told, she grew up on a ranch down in Kansas. She knows a sight more than her man, which is probably why he tolerates it. He was a farmer.” Gus crammed in a mouthful of sourdough biscuit, then chased it down with a swig of hot coffee. He wiped off his mouth with the back of his sleeve and continued. “They got all excited about homesteading up this way when they saw some sketches of the area. Don’t rightly know that a few picture drawings would send me traveling a thousand miles from home, but they seem happy. Their place is just about ten miles from our northwest boundary post.”

  “They seem nice,” Dianne said, watching Maggie Farley handle a rope as well as any of the men.

  “That other couple—the one that brought their young’uns— they don’t know a whole lot about nothing, but they have the heart for it. I’ve been trying to share a thing or two with the man. His name is Clark Vandercamp and her name is Hilda.”

  “I can’t imagine bringing children to a roundup,” Dianne commented, looking across the camp to where Hilda sat fixing the hair of her oldest daughter.

  “Oh, roundup is a great time for the community to gather. I remember times in Texas when folks would come from hundreds of miles. Roundup might last weeks into a month—just depended on how big a territory you had to cover. I remember bein’ in the saddle eighteen hours a day—sleepin’ there too.”

  Dianne grinned. She loved it when Gus talked about his days in Texas.

  “Always wanted to be a wagon boss. Spent my time as a circle rider, horse wrangler, even a rough-string rider.”

  “What’s that?” Dianne asked, finishing the last of her meal.

  “Ah, that’s a man who’s brought on to ride the really mean horses—the bad ones. You put them all in one string.”

  “A rough string,” Dianne said, nodding. “Makes sense. Guess you’d have to put Jack in that group.” She flexed her arm. It was pretty much mended, although it still felt stiff. She was blessed that Gus had put off roundup until the latter part of April. His decision had proven to be very wise, when a surprise snow delivered a foot of icy whiteness only a week and a half earlier. The break had given Dianne’s arm extra time to heal, and by the time they headed out, she actually felt confident sitting atop Dolly. The only real problem was that she longed to participate—to get in there and help with the roping and cutting, but she was wise enough to recognize her limitations.

  “How’s the arm?” Gus asked, seeing her rub the muscles. Dianne grinned. “Feels almost as good as new.”

  “I’ve had more busted on me from ridin’ mean ol’ broncs like Jack than I care to remember. You were lucky, little lady.”

  “Well, you always said a fellow didn’t know what he was made of unless he got out there and gave it his best.”

  “I said that about fellas. Not ladies.”

  Dianne laughed and gathered up her dishes. She poured out the remains of her coffee. The stuff was strong enough to walk away on its own. “Wish you boys would be a little more liberal with the water when you’re making coffee.”

  Gus shook his head. “Been my experience most folks make it too weak. If I can’t stand a spoon in it, I don’t wanna drink it. Never did cotton to milkin’ it down either.” He got to his feet and handed his dishes over to Dianne. “Although I can tolerate a little sugar.” He grinned. “Always did have a sweet tooth.” He looked off to where the boys were already preparing to brand. “Well, the work won’t do itself.” He tied on his neckerchief and gave Dianne one last nod.

  Dianne watched him walk away, wishing she could join him in branding the calves. Just last year she’d finally gotten the hang of roping. She’d gotten pretty good with a lariat, if she did say so herself. But she’d promised to be good, and she intended to keep her word.

  “I can see you’re itching to get in there and work with the boys.”

  Dianne smiled at Boris Masters. He was an older man who’d been hired on to cook for the outfit. He’d worked off and on at the Diamond V, and Dianne had always liked him. He took the dishes from Dianne and plunged them into steaming, sudsy water.

  “It’s hard to just watch,” she admitted. “I see those other women helping and it just seems unfair.”

  “Those other gals ain’t nursin’ a broken arm,” Boris said in an authoritative voice.

  “I know. I know,” she said in an exasperated tone. “No one is about to let me forget it either.” She gave him a quick smile and added, “Breakfast was great. You make one fine trail cook.”

  Boris’s ears turned red and Dianne realized she’d embarrassed him. Turning, she called back to him, “You’ll make some woman a fine husband.”

  She heard the man sputter and cough, as though the comment were impossible to comprehend. Dianne chuckled to herself, remembering Gus’s tales that Boris was courting some Sunday school teacher in Bozeman. If it got serious, she’d have to let Boris know that they’d be more than open to the idea of yet another woman on the Diamond V.

  Dianne took her place at the back of the wagon Gus had set up for her. She watched as the men got to work. The fires had been going since before dawn and the brands were heated and ready to go. She felt sorry for the new babies that had to be branded, but at the same time she felt a pride she couldn’t explain. These were Diamond V cattle—Uncle Bram’s livestock. It made her happy to see them so marked.

  The ropers were on their horses and working to single out the babies for the morning’s work. Gabe Presley, who’d been with the ranch for nearly three years, threw his rope and started the morning’s affairs. He heeled the calf quickly and dragged it from the circle by its back legs over toward the branding fires.

  “Diamond V,” he called out, indicating the brand to use. This done, he turned the calf over to the flankers, who went to work to keep the calf down.

  Dianne was fascinated as one man grabbed the calf at the flank and foreleg, then finished rolling the animal to its side. Once down, the man grabbed the top foreleg, while the other flanker took the top hind leg and stretched it out behind the calf. They made it look so easy. The calf bawled, causing its mama to become quite disturbed. Dianne felt sorry for both of them. They couldn’t understand what was happening.

  Levi, the iron man, came forward with the brand. Dianne knew from talking to Gus that branding was a very precise job. Too little pressure and the brand wouldn’t be deep enough to peel and leave a good mark. Too much pressure, especially with the more detailed Diamond V brand, and the mark would often be blotched or run together.

  “You don’t need a heavy hand to lay a brand,” Gus had told her. Watching as Levi applied the iron, Dianne could see that he was very comfortable with his job. Years under Gus’s tutelage had made Levi quite good at his job.

  The morning continued in like fashion. Calves were mother
ed up, then pulled from the circle to be branded with the appropriate markings, then passed on to the next round of workers. By lunchtime, dozens of babies had been branded, inspected, and in some cases castrated. It was all a very orderly, busy affair.

  The roundup weather held in a grand fashion without spilling even a drop of rain on the crew. There was no sign of Indian or animal that might want to attack, and only two cowboys endured injury, and even those were minor. On the last day before they were to head back to their own ranches, a party had been planned. It was during this time that the boys would show off their talents. Dianne chose a good place to stand and cheer on the participants as the festivities got started.

  “I’m sure glad we finally had a chance to meet,” Maggie Farley said as she took a place beside Dianne. “We’d heard about you last summer when we moved in, but there wasn’t much time to come visiting.”

  Dianne offered the redheaded woman a smile. “I’m glad we could spend time getting to know each other.”

  Maggie pushed back a lock of errant hair and tucked it up under her wide-brimmed hat. “My husband tells me you’re the owner of the Diamond V. Pardon my saying so, but you seem a mite young to be handling an outfit this big.”

  Dianne tensed at the woman’s comment, then realized it was probably curiosity rather than criticism that drove the woman’s question. “The ranch belonged to my uncle. He was killed last year by a grizzly bear.”

  “I’d heard that. Heard he left a squaw wife and children behind. Did they go back to their people?”

  “They’re with me. I’m their people,” Dianne said more severely than she’d intended.

  Maggie Farley’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean no offense. It’s just, well, in Kansas that kind of thing wasn’t looked upon favorably.”

  “Neither is it accepted here. That’s why I own the ranch now instead of my aunt.”

  Maggie nodded. “Whitson—he’s my husband”—she spoke as if Dianne wouldn’t remember this—“he said your intended was overdue. Have you had word yet?”

  Dianne had no desire to discuss Cole’s absence, but she didn’t want to appear offended by Maggie’s remark about Koko. “No. We’ve heard nothing.”

  “That’s what’s hard about being up here. We’ve only been here for a year and a half, but it’s hard getting word from home. I don’t hear from my ma but maybe once or twice a year.” She shook her head. “Gets pretty lonely out here.”

  “It can, that’s for sure.”

  “There’s not another woman around my place to even talk to. God hasn’t seen fit to bless us with babies, so I don’t even have that comfort.”

  Dianne felt sorry for the woman. “The Diamond V’s not that far and we have several women there, but . . .” She fell silent, wondering how she could explain that she wouldn’t tolerate prejudice. She decided rather than make it personal, she’d speak of it in a more general way. “Some people have no tolerance for folks who aren’t white. My aunt, as you mentioned, is part Blackfoot, but she also had a white father. One of my dear friends is a former slave.”

  “A slave? Truly?” Maggie asked.

  Dianne smiled. “Truly. Faith is dearer to me than most. She’s been a good friend through the years, and I wouldn’t trade anything for the friendship we share.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I never thought about a white person being able to be friends with a black. Never figured they’d have anything in common.”

  “Have you ever known a black person?” Dianne asked gently.

  “No,” the older woman said, shaking her head, “I’ve never known one personally. Heard they were strange—practice black magic and put curses on white folks.” She looked rather embarrassed to have mentioned that and added, “But like I said, I’ve never experienced it firsthand.”

  Dianne smiled again. It seemed Maggie was trying to be sociable and tolerant, in spite of her beliefs. “A lot of what you’ve heard is stories told out of ignorance. We’re all Christian folks at the Diamond V—well, most of us. Either way, we wouldn’t tolerate black magic. You should come by sometime and get to know Faith. I find that worries about such things are easily dealt with when folks give themselves a chance to familiarize themselves with what they don’t understand.”

  “We aren’t that far,” Maggie said, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “I’ll have to see if Whitson can spare the time. Of course, it would have to be later, in the summer. We don’t have near the critters you do to care for, but we’ll have our hands full. It’s just us and the two hired men.”

  “Why don’t you come around the Fourth of July? We always enjoy a grand celebration. You could bring your hired men and stay a day or two. We have plenty of room to put you up, and you’d have a real chance then to get to know some of the folks at the ranch. We’ve also got a blacksmith and shop, so if you needed some smithy work done, Malachi would be happy to work it in.”

  Maggie smiled and met Dianne’s eyes with a steady gaze. “I’d like that. I’d like that a great deal. I’d like to meet your friend too. I think in a country like this, a person ought not to turn her nose up at friendship. I’ll talk to Whitson before we leave and let you know what he says.”

  “We also have church every Sunday.”

  “With a real preacher?” Maggie questioned.

  “Yes. Reverend Hammond gives a powerful sermon. His wife, Charity, is good to lead the singing and to listen to the troubles of those around her. I know you’d enjoy meeting her.”

  “Is she . . . well . . . not that it matters,” Maggie stammered. “I just wondered if she used to be a slave too.”

  Dianne grinned. “No. She’s just as white as you and I, but she thinks the color of a person’s skin ought not to matter. After all, the Bible says God doesn’t look on man’s outward appearance but at the heart.”

  “Do tell. Isn’t that a wonder?” Maggie said, seeming genuinely enthralled. “Well, I’m gonna tell Whitson about this. I just know he’ll be interested to hear it all.”

  It was a beginning, Dianne thought. At least the woman hadn’t run off in the other direction. Everything comes by little steps, Dianne reasoned as she turned her attention back to the men and their games.

  With roundup over and the herd headed to summer range, Dianne thought the ranch had never looked more welcoming. She rode with the other hands, confident on her faithful Dolly instead of a more rambunctious horse. She loved the way the valley and mountains had started to green up. The garden plot to the back of the barn had already been worked up. Dianne couldn’t help but notice the size had doubled from just a few years past.

  Plans for finishing the house started churning in her head. She would see to it that Koko’s wing was finished off first and then start on her own. Koko had mentioned wanting some delicate print material to make curtains for Susannah’s room. Dianne would have to make a list and then go to town and see what could be had. For her own room she thought maybe something in a dark green damask would look nice at the windows.

  “I’ll take your horse for you, Miz Dianne,” Gabe said as they halted near the corral fence.

  “Thanks. I think all I want is a good hot bath and plenty of soap. I’ve got half of Montana to wash off,” Dianne said, mindless of talking about such a delicate matter as a lady’s bath.

  Gabe nodded. “I figure to take me a dip in the river. It’ll be cold, but it’ll feel good.”

  Dianne much preferred her idea of cleaning up to Gabe’s. She knew, however, a lot of the cowhands would follow suit. It saved time from having to heat water, and several of the boys were headed into town, where they’d probably have a nice hot bath and shave before enjoying whatever entertainment could be had.

  Making her way to the house, Dianne pulled off her brown hat and smacked it against her side several times to rid it of all the dust. No doubt it would take a heap more than that, she thought. Even her mouth tasted gritty from the trail ride. No wonder so many of the boys spit. She laughed at the thought of taking up the bad habit.

/>   She caught her reflection in one of the windows as she made her way to the back door. “What a sight,” she moaned. She looked as though she’d been years on the trail instead of just a couple of weeks. Her hair was mostly matted against her head, with stray strands falling in disorder down the sides.

  She hung up her hat and coat on the back porch, then checked her boots so as not to drag in mud or manure. She looked forward to seeing Koko and checking in on Faith, but the bath had to come first. She wouldn’t have imposed herself on anyone in this state. She had just started for the back stairs when someone called out.

  “You been wallowing in a mud pit?”

  She looked up in surprise to find Takes Many Horses. Somehow the man always had a way of turning up when he was least expected. Dianne put her hands on her hips. “Very funny. I’ll have you know I’ve been out on the roundup. Something you could help with if you chose to stay around and make yourself useful.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been busy.”

  Dianne wanted only to dismiss the man and head to her room, but he seemed so happy, it was almost contagious.

  “What have you been busy with?” she asked in spite of herself.

  “I’ve had my own roundup, you could say.”

  Dianne eyed him curiously, cocking her head to one side and narrowing her gaze. “And just what have you been rounding up?”

  “Something you lost.” His grin broadened and he winked. “Something you’ll want to have back.”

  Dianne strained to think of what he could possibly be talking about. She had lost a fine pair of riding gloves, but she seriously doubted he had any knowledge of that.