The Coming Storm

by Tracie Peterson

  “Poor child, were you long traveling to get here?”

  She nodded and accepted the platter. “It was truly a misery. Had Ned, I mean Mr. Langford, and Mr. Chadwick not helped me in my ordeal, I might never have made it this far.” Mr. and Mrs. Hammond hadn’t been present when Portia arrived, so the older woman hadn’t heard Portia’s tales of woe.

  The food was passed around in an orderly fashion, and when everyone had taken what they wanted, the meal began. Portia nibbled on a biscuit, trying hard to give the appearance of disinterest when in fact she was starved. She’d played ill the last few days, hoping to gain a little more time before heading to Fort Ellis. She wanted very much to know if there was anything at the Diamond V that could benefit her more than Ned could.

  “Your ranch is lovely, Mrs. Selby. I’ve been quite amazed at the flowers and garden, as well as the beautiful horses.”

  Dianne looked up from near the end of the table. “Thank you,” she replied. “Not one of us could do it without the other. Running a ranch takes a team of people all willing to pull their weight.”

  Portia wondered if the woman were being snide in her remark, but there was no edge to her voice that might suggest it.

  “Since you’re feeling better,” Mrs. Selby began again, “I thought maybe you’d like a real tour of the ranch—on horseback.”

  Portia had just picked up her cup to sip her tea. She paused thoughtfully. “That sounds wonderful. Ned, would you be able to join us?” She didn’t even bother with the pretense of formality.

  Ned, who couldn’t keep his gaze from her, nodded enthusiastically. “I would love to accompany you both.”

  “I’ll be along as well,” Cole interjected, then added, “What about you, Trenton? Care to make the ride?”

  Trenton looked to Cole and then to Portia. He grinned. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

  “Wonderful!” Dianne went back to eating, as did Cole, but Trenton held Portia’s gaze, leaving her most uncomfortable.Why did he have to constantly interfere in her life? Portia wanted to say something—hint at her findings and how she could condemn him in the eyes of his family—but she knew that was a card to hold until later. I can bear up under this, she reminded herself. The goal is in sight, and soon I’ll be the wife of Ned Langford. At least for a little while.

  Within the week many of the same party that had shared a meal around the Diamond V breakfast table found themselves east of Bozeman. Dianne had been convinced that accompanying Ned and Portia would be a wise choice. Neither of them was familiar with the area, and the last thing she wanted was for them to lose their way. Trenton had agreed to come because of the possibility of seeing Zane again, and Charity and Ben wanted to visit with the area pastors.

  Dianne leaned closer to Cole as they waited for a post runner to find Sergeant Samson Brady and Corporal Zane Chadwick.

  “What do you suppose Mrs. McGuire’s father is really like?” she whispered over her shoulder.

  “I hope he’s nothing like his daughter. Otherwise I pity the men he commands.”

  Dianne giggled and looked into her husband’s eyes. “Perhaps I should become spoiled like Mrs. McGuire.Would you fret over me if I lounged in bed until noon?” She batted her eyelashes.

  Cole grinned. “I’d fret over you if you lounged in bed until six. That woman is an absolute pain in the neck.”

  Trenton came over about that time. “I heard the words pain in the neck. You must be discussing our dear Portia.”

  Dianne shook her head. “It’s so hard to have Christian charity when she acts so completely uncharitable. She insults my friends and family at every turn.”

  “Not to mention the way she insults you personally,” Trenton threw in.

  “That’s for sure,” Cole said. “I thought I was going to have to have words with her the other night when she made that comment about your cooking.”

  Dianne shrugged. “I can bear my own insults. It’s when she demeans Koko or Faith or the babies for the color of their skin or suggests that the ranch hands are stealing from us when things go missing that I see red.”

  “I’d count the silver after she goes,” Trenton said snidely. “She seems to have a real hunger for it.”

  “Does Ned truly intend to marry her?” Dianne asked her brother.

  “I’m afraid so. I’ve tried to talk sense into him, but he won’t hear it. He’s already wired his father and told him that they’ll be married here and come back East as soon as she settles matters with her own father. Portia wants to have a wedding trip to New York before they return to Denver and settle back in to the silver mining business.”

  “Maybe it will all work out,” Dianne said, not really believing it. Portia McGuire was a selfish woman who had little regard for others. Watching her now as she waited for her father’s appearance, Dianne prayed for the grace to accept the frustrating woman and treat her kindly.

  Dianne saw Zane first. He looked good—lean and tall in his uniform. He’d regained the title of corporal, and from letters she’d had from him, she knew he figured he might be promoted soon. Beside him, a man with graying black hair and dark eyes wore the stripes of a sergeant and the cynical look of one who was about to encounter a well-known enemy.

  The man stopped as he reached Portia. Eyeing her without a smile, he spoke. “Daughter.”

  “Hello, Father,” Portia snapped back. “I thought you were retiring from all this nonsense.”

  “And I thought you were happily occupied in Scotland.”

  “My husband died,” she said, the hate evident in her voice. “Not that I suppose you would care.”

  “Your mother isn’t here. I figured you’d know that. She’s in Denver setting up house for us.”

  Portia sneered. “No, she’s not. She died at the end of March. She had cancer—there was nothing they could do.”

  Dianne nearly gasped at the heartless manner in which Portia delivered the news. The man’s face paled considerably. Everyone was so stunned they froze in place, staring at the widower.

  “This can’t be true,” Sergeant Brady said in a hoarse voice.

  “Do you know any other reason I would come to this wretched country?” She narrowed her eyes and shifted her parasol. “Mother made me promise to come and tell you in person. So now I have.”

  “Now, Portia dear,” Ned began, reaching out to pat her arm in a comforting manner, “you’re just overwrought. The heat of the day is upon you, and the trip here was quite long.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her tone guarded. She continued to glare at her father as though she could further hurt him.

  The man turned to go, then stopped. Looking back at his daughter, he said, “I suppose I should thank you.”

  “You needn’t bother. I didn’t do it for you—I did it for her.”

  Ned couldn’t help himself at this point. Dianne watched as he maneuvered himself between Portia and her father. “Sir, I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. I know it’s not the most appropriate time or place, but I love her.”

  Brady looked up and shook his head. “Then I pity you. You’re welcome to her, but she’ll never love you. She’s incapable of love. Has been all her life.”

  “That’s not true, old man,” Portia cried, pushing Ned aside. “I loved my mother. She was the only one who ever truly loved me. I loved her and would gladly have seen you in her place, dying a slow, painful death. Just like the one you inflicted upon us all of our lives.”

  Brady turned to walk away. “Like I said, you’re welcome to her.”

  Portia waited until her father was gone to break into tears. Ned looked up apologetically. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to drive her back to Bozeman. She needs to rest, and I can get us rooms at the hotel there.”

  “Go ahead,” Cole replied. “We have our mounts.”

  Ned nodded and encircled Portia with his arm. “Come along, my dear. The sun is too much for you.”

  When they’d gone, Zane looked to Dianne
as if for explanation. Dianne shook her head. “Don’t ask. There’s no reasonable explanation for what you just witnessed here.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Sergeant Brady’s daughter,” Dianne replied. “But of course, you already realize that. She came north with Trenton and Mr. Langford.”

  “Trenton?” Zane looked at the remaining three people. Recognition touched his eyes. “I was so taken by that display, I didn’t even recognize you.”

  Trenton stepped forward and the brothers embraced. “Good to see you, Zane. Have you had word from Morgan?”

  “I had a brief note. He’s gotten himself involved in some exploration team that plans to go south along the Yellowstone. They’ll be here in August. Plan to come here on the chance they can talk old Major Baker out of an army escort. I haven’t had a chance to write him back.”

  “Maybe he’ll come through the Madison Valley,” Dianne said hopefully.

  “No, I don’t think that’s the plan. Didn’t sound like it, leastwise. You can read the letter if you want. I left it in my quarters.”

  “Can you get away from the fort?” Cole asked. “We’d like to take you to dinner in town.”

  “I might be able to wrangle that. I’ll see if I can borrow a horse. It’s too hot to ride double and much too hot to hike three miles.”

  Cole nodded. “We’ll wait for you here. See what you can do.”

  Zane smiled. “It’ll be good to sit and jaw with you. Especially you, Trent. It’s been seven years—you had to have lived a lot in that time.”

  Trenton frowned. “Probably too much.”

  They passed the evening in pleasant conversation about the state of the world and of the past they’d been unable to share. Trenton was limited with his dialogue. He talked of ranch work in Texas and of meeting and helping an old man in Missouri. Cole listened to the stories, realizing that his wife’s brother was uncomfortable discussing his past. He couldn’t help but wonder why. By the time Zane left to return to his post, the brothers had made plans to meet up at the ranch and have a real time of reunion.

  The next morning at breakfast, Cole helped Dianne into her chair and leaned down to whisper. “Are you all right?” She’d been so quiet in their hotel room that morning—almost as if she, too, were trying to put all the pieces into place where Trenton was concerned.

  “I’m tired,” she admitted but looked up to smile. “As I recall, someone kept me awake much too late last night.”

  Cole grinned and leaned back down to whisper, “I like keeping you awake.”

  He watched his wife’s cheeks flush red as he sat down beside her. He was about to make a further statement when Trenton came to join them. Charity and Ben weren’t far behind.

  “Good morning, my dears,” Charity said as she allowed Ben to seat her. “You all look very fine this morning.”

  “Dianne’s tired,” Cole commented with a winning smile. He groaned softly as his wife planted her boot heel in his shin. Charity never had a chance to reply because Ned and Portia entered the restaurant in a burst of energy and laughter.

  “You may congratulate us, old man,” Ned said as he approached Trenton. “We were just married.”

  Portia smiled at them with a complete look of victory. “Yes,” she said, extending her hand. “It’s all legal now.”

  CHAPTER 29

  December

  1875

  DIANNE STOOD ON THE FRONT PORCH, HER HAND SETTLED gently atop her extended abdomen. She would have a baby in a matter of weeks, maybe days. It was an exciting time for the Selbys— for all on the Diamond V. The expected first baby for Cole and Dianne gave great joy to those who shared their lives, but no more so than to the parents, who had waited for four long years to conceive.

  Dianne was scared, as was to be expected. She had been present at Koko’s birthings of Jamie and Susannah, and she had shared in Faith’s deliveries of Mercy and Daniel, born just a year ago on the Fourth of July. But this was different. This was her own child. And she knew firsthand that childbirth was difficult. Susannah had nearly died being born prematurely, and Mercy had the cord around her neck, though Koko had aptly dealt with that. Daniel, too, had been a difficult delivery. He had a larger head than most and had troubled Faith something fierce in the birthing.

  Still, Dianne tried not to worry. But on days like today when the winter air was biting and held the scent of snow, Dianne couldn’t help but think of her mother. She had died close to Christmas back in ’64. She would have delivered a baby any day, but she wandered away in a drug-induced stupor, fearful that her children, who’d actually died on the trail, were out there somewhere— alive—waiting for her to find them. The memory pained Dianne every time she thought of it. She had been her mother’s caretaker, and Dianne had failed to keep her safe. For years she’d tried to deal with the guilt. She’d given it to God over and over but still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was to blame.

  Dianne leaned against the railing and sighed. This was the happiest time of her life, but the hints of sorrow were enough to drape shadows over her joy. She had lived in the Montana Territory for over ten years, and in that time she had witnessed a tremendous growth and development for the territory. New people were moving in at an alarming rate. Copper mines were added to those of silver and gold, and with money to be made, crowds were bound to gather.

  Still, the land was hard and unforgiving. Mistakes were seldom easy to overcome and were dealt in the details of life and death. Winters varied from mild to fierce. There were years they lost cattle to blizzards and sub-zero temperatures and years where they were blessed with few predators and multiple births. The cattle herd, thanks to Gus’s capable direction, had grown to just over a thousand head. They helped to supply beef to the area forts and often sold to other ranchers who were looking to better their lines. Gus continued to bring in new additions from down south, but all in all, the herd was advancing nicely. The horses of the Diamond V were also earning a great reputation. Dianne found herself constantly dealing with ranchers and army officials who requested new mounts or strings of good cattle horses. The business was quite lucrative, and she and Cole had talked of hiring on additional help to wrangle.

  In spite of this boon to their ranching economy, however, Indian troubles were all around them. Over the last few years the government had gotten serious about restricting the use of liquor, and prohibition had come in full to the Indians. Of course, enforcing the law against liquor use was difficult due to the number of whiskey peddlers and the great love of firewater among the Blackfoot people and other tribes.

  The Blackfoot Wars, as some had come to call the conflicts with that particular tribe of people, were settling down. There were even rumors—wishful thinking most likely—that an agreement between the Blackfoot and the government was soon to be signed. In 1874 Congress reduced the Blackfoot lands, stating that they had grossly overestimated the number of actual residents. Dianne saw it as nothing more than a ploy to further cheat the Real People out of their land. When Little Plume, a chief who did not take to liquor himself, became chief over the tribe, working closely with two other leaders, White Calf and Generous Woman, the white people hoped this would mean peace. The conflict with the Sioux, however, was unaffected.

  With gold discovered in the Black Hills, the Sioux had found themselves displaced once again, with a frightful inpouring of whites to the Dakota hills. The names of leaders like Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull were often discussed among army folk. Zane had speculated that a major conflict was bound to come upon them and soon. The Indians already positioned in the Montana Territory were resentful of the newcomers, as they’d always been. It was no different that these tribes were suffering the same grievances that plagued the Blackfoot, Assiniboine, Kutenai, and Gros Ventre. The tribes that had always lived on these northwest plains and mountain regions did not wish to share their heritage with the Sioux, Cree, Shoshone, and Arapahoe. But still they came, just as the whites came.

  Dianne fe
lt sorry for the tribes, but not sorry enough to leave the land. She felt confident that a means could be established for the two groups to live together peaceably, but the government did not see it that way. Unfortunately, neither did most of the newcomers.

  Towns were springing up everywhere, and with them came more politicians and government. Dianne didn’t mind the civilizing of the West. What she hated was that the newcomers were demanding to make it over in the image of the East. But if the eastern dudes wished to continue eating their large steaks and lamb chops, they would have to leave room for ranchers to raise their animals. Already there was talk of fencing and registering ranches and limiting free range. Cole and Gus talked about the issue often, and Dianne could see the flurry of conflicts that stood just beyond their door.

  ‘‘You feeling all right?’’

  Dianne turned and saw that Zane had come to check on her. ‘‘Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about all the strife and how much the territory has changed.’’

  He came to join her. He looked handsome in his uniform of blue. Dianne noted the dark red neckerchief. Most of the men in the western army wore scarves of some sort to keep out the dust—especially during storms, when the wind blew harsh against their faces. Still, Dianne knew the army hadn’t regulated these scarves. Zane wore a scarf to match the unit of men he once again commanded. He was mighty proud of having regained his sergeant stripes.

  ‘‘Your men will be glad to have you back, but I shall miss you,’’ Dianne said, leaning over to hug her brother. ‘‘I wish you could stay until Christmas. That’s just a week and a half away.’’

  ‘‘I know, but there are others who’d like to share Christmas elsewhere, and I’m trying to be a considerate man.’’ He grinned, but it was hard to see his mouth under his newly acquired lip hair.

  Dianne hadn’t gotten used to his mustache. It was very thick and gave him the look of one much older than his twenty-nine years. ‘‘Twenty-nine.’’