“I’ll be there in a minute. Let me finish this seam.” The kerthunk of the treadle resumed its beat.
Mavis replenished the stove and pulled the coffeepot to the front to heat. What a pleasure it was to have another woman around to share the coffee. Such a simple thing, so cherished. So many things to be thankful for. She put both gingerbread and sour-cream cookies on a plate and found herself thinking there should be even more. Nonsense. This was ample.
“What smells so heavenly?” Cassie asked as she entered the room.
“The julekake just came out. I’ll set the loaves in the window box to freeze. We serve them for breakfast on Christmas Day. I usually give some away too.”
“My mother loved both the smell and taste of cardamom. Said it reminded her of home in Norway. How come people use it only at Christmas?”
“Good question. I think they use it more in Norway. For us it is a special treat, like lutefisk and lefse. We’ll have that for Christmas Eve supper. Have you ever helped make lefse?”
Cassie shook her head. “I remember my mother trying to teach the cook how to make it, but she was never satisfied. I think she used to wish for home the most at Christmas—home meaning Norway.”
They sipped and nibbled in the quiet before Cassie raised her head and looked directly at Mavis. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course. I’ll answer if I can.”
“You said that you chose security over love, yet you said you loved Ivar. When did that happen, the . . . uh, the knowing that you loved him?”
Mavis shot a swift prayer for wisdom heavenward. “I think it was a gradual thing. No big bursts of light or anything, just day to day realizing how much he meant to me. One day he brought me some bluebells from down by the barn, and I could see love shining in his eyes as he handed them to me. I knew I had made the right decision, and my heart felt like it might burst from the love inside. I was pregnant with Ransom, and that little gift made me cry. Of course, when you are with child, you cry easily anyway, but I remember sobbing. He wrapped those long arms around me, and I could tell he was confused. But when I could talk, I told him they were tears of joy. Then he kissed me again and went back to work.” Mavis realized she was circling the rim of the mug with her forefinger.
“Thank you for telling me that.”
Mavis reached across the table and laid her hand over Cassie’s. “Learning to live together as husband and wife takes some doing, but when you can talk things over, it helps a lot.” Did Cassie notice how Lucas seemed to be avoiding talking things over?
Cassie nodded. “My mother and father talked a lot, about business things and personal things and their dreams. As a little girl, I sometimes felt left out, but then my father would set me on his knee and I’d ride horsey. He had a song he sang to that.”
Mavis watched Cassie’s face take on a faraway, dreamy look. Please, O Lord, keep my son from hurting her. She has been hurt enough.
At dinner when they were gathered around the table, Mavis turned to Lucas. “Didn’t you say you had a letter or something from Mr. Porter?”
“Ah, that I did. I forgot all about it. Sorry.” He headed for his room, returning with an envelope to hand to his mother. “You read it. I pretty much know what’s in it. Told Ransom and Arnett too.”
Questioning him with her gaze, she slit it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
“Dear friends,
“This is in regard to the idea about opening ranch homes to guests, and I would like to hear your opinions on this. The guests would pay for this privilege, of course, and I know money is tight these days. This could bring in some extra cash and be doing strangers a good deed at the same time. I know that is in the middle of the busy summer season, but the folks could ride and learn about life on a ranch.
“Please let me know if we can count on you and your ranch to take part. I don’t think we need a lot of ranches, but if we publicize it, it would be a shame to turn people away. We would have to set up pricing and some guidelines. I suggest we plan a meeting here at the hotel in January.
“If this works out, we could become known for both our show and our western hospitality. I look forward to hearing from you.
“Sincerely,
Josiah Porter”
Mavis looked up from the letter. “We should make a clear decision about this. What do you all think?”
“Besides my bunkhouse, we could also turn my ranch house into a guesthouse real easy, since there are three bedrooms there. So we have the room.” Arnett leaned forward. “This sounds like a winning idea to me.”
“I vote let’s do it.” Lucas looked to Ransom, who appeared to be studying his thumbs. “What about you, big brother?”
“You know me. I don’t go making quick decisions. What if someone were to get hurt, like falling off a horse or something?”
“Good point, son.” Mavis nodded her head slowly, as she sometimes did when she was thinking. “This could have real possibilities, though. Will we have enough to do to keep them busy?”
“They could help build fences. And they could help us with haying; that would be a real experience.” Lucas turned toward Cassie. “You could maybe put on a show. A little one.”
She nodded. “I could teach adults to shoot, maybe older kids.”
“We could take them on rides up into the mountains, camp out.” Gretchen leaned against her mother’s knees. “Kids could maybe play with the calves if we brought in a couple to be tamed. And baby pigs; I think we’ll have piglets by then. I think this could be fun.”
The ideas came from all sides of the table, except from Ransom. “Takes some thinking. It could be a lot of hard work. Cooking for the extra people, cleaning and washing. Would we have just one group and would it be before or after the Wild West show? Or on through July and into August?” He wagged his head.
When he did that, he was not very excited about the subject, Mavis knew.
He asked Lucas, “How soon do we have to let him know? His letter seems to be asking for an immediate answer.”
Lucas shrugged. “The sooner the better. This should go out with the other publicity. We’re actually behind already, since we thought of the show so late. Most community events like this start planning years in advance.”
“Don’t you want to talk with some of the other ranchers? Who all did he send this out to?”
Lucas shrugged again. “Beats me. But I think we should let him know right away, get in right at the beginning. I mean, we’ve been trying to come up with cash crops, and here one’s dumped right in our laps.”
Arnett was still planning. “We could maybe use some of that slab wood to side another bunkhouse. And I could teach someone how to carve wood.” He said to no one in particular, “I think this has real possibilities.”
“You could do this with your ranch, you know,” Ransom suggested.
“Our ranch, you mean. That will no longer be my responsibility, but these two young’uns living there. That still leaves two bedrooms for company.”
Mavis watched Cassie a moment. What did she think of these ideas? No indication.
And she found herself getting caught up in the game. “If some want to learn about gardening, we can teach that. I think this could be a real adventure. Let’s pray about this tonight and see what God has to say about it. You could mail a letter back to Mr. Porter when we decide.”
Lucas was grinning. “Or I could ride into Hill City and tell him.”
Mavis caught the glare Ransom sent his brother, and she knew what Ransom was thinking: Lucas would always rather be off somewhere and planning than working on the ranch. A curious thought struck her. What would it be like with Lucas and Cassie living in the other ranch house?
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was finished and the dishes cleaned up, they all loaded in the sleigh and headed for town to talk to their lawyer and sign the papers. The discussion over breakfast had shown agreement but with some reservations. Although any new thing like this could
call for all kinds of uncertainties, Ransom had agreed to give it a try. If it didn’t work out, they could go back to regular ranching. Arnett signing away his ranch weighed more heavily on Mavis’s mind than the possibility of ranch guests next summer.
“You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?” She turned to Arnett, sitting beside her. For a change Lucas rode with them instead of on his horse.
“Absolutely. We can do more working together than with me living in that house all by myself. Why, I feel twenty years younger since I moved into your bunkhouse. Mavis, yer actin’ like an old dog worrying a bone.” He held up his hand when she started to argue. “It is my land, free and clear. I’ve got no one left to inherit it, no one I want to sell it to, not that anyone would want to buy it, and I spent a lotta time thinkin’ this through. We all know how much better I been since I moved into your bunkhouse. I got a new lease on life. Ransom and me makin’ furniture, these two making my house a home again, why it all just seems so perfect to me. And if’n we have ranch guests next summer, all the better; I profit and you profit. Mavis, the good Lord says to live in today. And this way I got the freedom to do just that. I think I’m the one getting all the good outta this deal.”
Why did Mavis think she could change his mind? The Engstroms were strong willed, and the Arnetts every bit as strong. That strength was in their blood, in the blood of every family making a living in this country.
Arnett reached over and took Cassie’s hand. “And maybe this little girl will bring us all some grandbabies to play with.” He chuckled at the red creeping up Cassie’s face. “I always thought I’d be a good grandpa.”
“You will be, Arnett, and I won’t bring this up again. But you know the lawyer is going to ask you a whole heap of questions.”
“Let him. I know what I want, and we got the papers that say how we want it. Ain’t any of his never mind, other than making sure we have good documents.” He sat back in the box and snuggled deeper into his blanket as the sleigh whispered them toward town and the horses’ bells jangled merrily.
Daniel Westbrook, their lawyer since forever, was not in, and his office door was locked. Now what?
“I know what. Wait here.” Lucas hastened off up the street.
Lucas never could stand still. Mavis could only shake her head.
He returned in a few minutes. “Dan is in Missouri for the holidays. He may stay till spring. There is another lawyer in town, a new one, over beyond the church.”
Ransom frowned. “Where did you find all that out?”
“From Sig. Barbers hear everything and know everything.”
So they all trooped up the street past the church. Two blocks beyond, Lucas announced, “I think this is it.”
A newly carved and painted sign hung on a little iron post by the street. James Minton Westover. Someone had neatly shoveled out the brick walkway to a little cottage set back from the street. Mavis was profoundly disappointed. She wanted the lawyer who knew her and knew Arnett just as well. Perhaps he could convince Arnett to abandon this notion.
And she was certainly right about the lawyer asking questions. For an hour they sat in his office doing nothing but answer questions. At one point the lawyer even sent all the Engstroms out so he could talk to Arnett privately. The one-on-one conversation lasted quite a while.
To be fair, the Engstroms and Arnett were strangers to this man, as was he to them. Of course he must be cautious. He was a youngish fellow from Chicago, said he had practiced with a law firm in Rapid City and now was setting up his own firm. He certainly was upright and sincere. And humorless. But isn’t that how it is when strangers deal with strangers?
Mr. Westover was shaking his head as he put his signature to the deed papers. “There. This is legal. It will stand up in any court. But I still don’t think you are serving your own best interests, Mr. Arnett.”
Arnett leaned forward in his chair. “We been through all this. Let me explain it this way: Say, when you get old, old like me, who’s gonna take care of you? Your children—the ones that didn’t die young—haven’t so much as sent you a letter for years. Everyone you love except the dog has died. There you sit, sick maybe, or crippled. A couple cows, some chickens. What you gonna do then, Mr. Westover? Who cares about you enough to take care of you when you’re not young anymore?”
The man nodded grimly. “But you are giving up a great deal.”
“And I’m getting more than I’m giving up.”
The man sighed. “I hope this is indeed for your best. If one of your children challenges this, I can in good conscience insist to them that you were not being coerced. And will do so.”
“Good. That’s all we ask of you. Now show me where to sign.”
Signing one’s name can take a long time. First the lawyer sent Lucas out to fetch Sig and his apprentice. A barber! Why does this lawyer think he needs a barber now? Mavis puzzled.
Sig and his boy walked in. He grinned. “Yep, Jim, these are the Engstroms, all right. Hello, Arnett. Haven’t seen you for a long time. Lucas, looks like you could do with a little trim.” He picked up a pen, bent over, and ran his finger down the papers Mr. Westover had laid out, looking for the right place. “Ah.” He signed on the witness line.
Witnesses. Of course. These two were witnesses, and it appeared they did this sort of thing frequently. They left immediately. Mavis had not thought about witnesses.
By the time they had all signed the deed in triplicate—one copy each for the Engstroms and Arnett and one to leave with the lawyer—Mavis was more than ready to quit that stuffy room. Why was she letting Arnett do this? They all said their thanks, everyone shook hands all around, and they filed out to the sleigh.
“Home?” Ransom untied the team.
“No, Brandenburgs first and then I brought a basket for Molly Beckwith and her children.”
He climbed into the box. “I’ll drop you off and go back to the store. Lucas, you want to take the list and get JD started on it?”
“Will do.”
Cassie climbed up onto the box. “And I need more shells if I’m going to start practicing again. My arm is back to better than it was before the match.”
“What kind?”
“I need them for all my guns.”
“All right.” Lucas clambered up into the back. “Anyone need anything else?”
Ransom clucked to the team. “Arnett, how about while Lucas is off and the women are with the Brandenburgs, you and I go over to the lumberyard and look at some of their machinery?” The sleigh whispered forward. The off horse shook his head, giving his bells an extra jangle.
Arnett nodded. “Mighty good idea. You know, I been thinking. Sometimes a piece looks real good with more than one kind of wood in it. Like the cherry could be the top and the front of the drawer and maybe oak for the frame. They got any dry oak here?”
Then each rode in silence, wrapped in thought. When they arrived at the Brandenburgs, Mavis was chuckling to herself as Ransom helped her and Cassie out of the sleigh. How strange the directions their lives were taking! A winter business of furniture building, a summer of hosting city folk who want to learn about ranching, and all the while the ranch work keeps on steady as ever. A couple of months and the beef cows would be calving and the cycle would begin again. While winter was usually a bit of a respite, this year it seemed to be a time of rebirth. Or at least a hatching of ideas. Where in the world was God taking them?
And it all had started with the arrival of Cassie.
15
So Cassie, how are the wedding plans coming?”
Cassie lay in bed early the next morning, thinking back to Pastor Brandenburg’s question. She’d answered by assuring him that the last day of the year, and the last day of her old life, was indeed the day. But when he’d asked a question about Lucas, she’d just smiled and told him that Lucas said he would be happy with whatever they planned. So the wedding was set. That would be her wedding day forever after. Then why wasn’t she happy about it? After
all, Mavis had assured her that love would come. Lucas was indeed a lovable man. She liked him a whole lot.
But then she liked Micah too and trusted Micah, had for years, but she’d never felt anything more than friendship. Just like with Lucas. She stared at the ceiling, still clothed in the darkness of night. Lord, if this is what you want, I know it will be a good thing. I am learning to trust you, I know, thanks to Mavis and the Brandenburgs and church and your Word. More and more I find good things in your Word. This is what Lucas believes too; at least I assume so. How could he not, growing up in this house, with a mother who prays for him all the time?
A thought hit her like the recoil of a shotgun. She’d not been praying for Lucas. She’d prayed about the wedding and about learning all these new things and about Christmas presents and about Betsy Hudson, but she’d not prayed for Lucas. In the still of the sleeping household, Cassie took Lucas to the throne of God and asked the Father what to do. Lucas had vowed to make her love him. Father, if this marriage is to be, I accept that as your will for us. If it is not, please do like Mavis says and close the door. Help Lucas to truly know his heart. Teach me to love him in all the ways a wife loves her husband and let us become one, as you say in your Word. I want to be a loving woman, a wise woman, the woman you plan for me to be. But I’ll need help doing that. She heaved a sigh and finished with a heartfelt amen. So be it.
Unable to go back to sleep, she bundled into her robe and slippers, lit a lamp, and after setting it beside the bed, brought the last of the men’s handkerchiefs she had hemmed to now be monogrammed. The final two were for Lucas. She’d hemmed those for Arnett and Ransom already. The aprons were finished for Mavis and Gretchen, along with a reticule she had found amongst her show things that she thought Gretchen might like. Since Runs Like a Deer did not wear aprons, she’d made her a flannel vest to wear under her clothes to help her keep warm.
When she heard someone else stirring, she dressed and headed for the kitchen to start the stove. Today they were going to be preparing food for the party at the church. The men were going to run the sawmill again. And today she also wanted to go out to see Wind Dancer and George. The snow was crusted deep enough that she could walk on it now, or perhaps she would ski out there. Maybe she and Gretchen could go skiing after Christmas.
Place to Belong, a Page 13
