What kind of welcome would he receive now? He’d gone away with his father after what felt like a lifetime of his mother’s indifference. Would he find that same emotion today? For the life of him, Cole had never figured out why his mother favored her girls and practically ignored her only son. He was her firstborn. Weren’t mothers supposed to have a special bond with their first baby? It sure wasn’t that way in the Selby family.
He tied his horse to the hitching post. The gelding was a replacement he’d picked up in Independence when his own mount went lame. He was sure going to miss that old boy. The liveryman thought with time the animal’s leg might mend enough to allow him to carry a child or small woman, but never again would he be able to handle a healthy two-hundred-pound man such as Cole.
Cole ran his hand along the sorrel’s neck. “We’ll get used to each other by and by, eh, Buddy?”
The horse sidled away, intent on nibbling some fresh spring grass near the post. Cole smiled and headed toward the house. He knocked loudly on the door, then noted the time. It was nearly three o’clock. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t be caught up in meal preparations. As he waited, he noted the list of rules posted beside the door.
No spitting or chewing of tobacco.
No cursing or rowdy behavior.
No drinking or drunken disruptions.
No admittance after 9 P . M .
Below this, a small placard read Vacancy.
The door opened and Cole stood face to face with his sister Cordelia. At fourteen, the girl was tall and slender, with a ruddy complexion and huge brown eyes. Her face bore a startled expression for a moment, then she broke into a smile. “Cole? Is it really you?”
Cole took the hat from his head. “It’s me all right. How are you, Delly?”
She frowned. “No one calls me that anymore. That’s a baby name. I’m almost old enough to court.”
“At fourteen? I don’t think so. Pa always said …” His words fell short. No one in this conversation cared what Pa had to say, so why bring it up? “Are you going to let me in?”
Cordelia laughed. “Sure, but where’s Pa?” She opened the door and stretched around Cole to see if their father was on the porch.
“I don’t know. I guess somewhere in the Idaho Territory.”
His sister’s frown told him she didn’t understand. “Why’d you come back without him?”
“It’s a long story. I can’t even begin to explain it until I have something to wash the dust down my throat.” Cordelia nodded and moved back. Cole stepped into the dimly lit hallway.
“I’ll get you some lemonade. Come on in the parlor, and I’ll let Mama know you’re here.” Cordelia showed him to the front room. He barely remembered it but knew it was for entertaining guests—not family. He wondered if Delly had done this purposefully or if she just hadn’t thought about the implication.
“Mama!” she called out as she left Cole. “Mama, come see who’s here.”
Cole wondered again at the reception he might get. His mother hadn’t been happy with his leaving to accompany his father. She’d wanted him to stay and help with the boardinghouse, but Cole had no desire to live with a bunch of strangers.
Running his fingers along the band of his hat, Cole suddenly felt silly for coming. His mother wouldn’t care that he’d seen his whole world collapse back in Virginia City. She would simply remind him that she’d wanted him to stay in Topeka and that his disobedience had brought on his miseries.
“Cole?”
He looked up to find the tiny woman staring at him from the doorway. She was barely five feet in height—compared to his six foot four— and weighed barely more than his saddle. Her dark brown eyes searched his face as if for answers.
“Hello, Ma. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d share your company a day or two. If you’d have me.”
She frowned, causing her brows to draw together. “I suppose I can give you the room at the top of the stairs. I don’t have a boarder there at this time, but if someone applies …” She left the words unstated, but Cole took her meaning.
Her lack of enthusiasm left a hole in Cole that seemed big enough to swallow him alive. “I can’t stay but a couple of days at most. I have a job with a wagon train. I got special permission to come and see you.”
“Why?”
He studied her hard, determined face. The severity of her expression furthered his feeling of hopelessness. “I guess because I thought since I was in the area, it’d be rude and thoughtless not to come by.”
She nodded. “Very well. Take your things upstairs, then come back down and we’ll talk.”
“Where can I put my horse? I need to feed and water him.”
“We’ve a small fenced-in stable in the back. You can put him there.” She turned, leaving him to his business without another word.
Cole walked outside, wondering what had happened to the lemonade promised by Delly. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He took up the reins to his mount and walked him back around the house. The stable, as his mother had called it, was nothing more than a collection of stalls inside a fenced area of the huge backyard.
He took the sorrel into the first stall and unsaddled him. Searching for the pump, Cole filled a bucket with water and left it next to the hay box. Seeing there was plenty for the horse to eat and drink, Cole picked up his things and made his way back to the house. He’d curry the animal after he had a chance to speak further with his mother.
Shaking his head, he wasn’t at all sure that would amount to much. She hasn’t changed, he thought. She still cares nothing about me.
“Cole, come in this way!” Delly called from the back door.
“Why? Aren’t I good enough for the front door?” he said, laughing.
“ ’Course you are, silly. I just figured you’d want your lemonade. I had to make fresh, that’s why it took so long.”
Cole bounded up the back porch steps and wrestled his bedroll and saddlebags into one hand. Delly handed him the glass and watched in seeming amazement as he drained it. “Can I have more if I promise to wipe my boots?”
“Of course you can. Come on. Just leave your things here by the door.”
She took the glass and led him into the house. Cole remembered the large kitchen with its huge iron cookstove. It had a homey, almost cheery feel to it. There were pleasant aromas of breads and spices in the air that served to remind him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He put his things down and rubbed his stomach.
“I don’t suppose a fellow could get something to eat, could he?”
Delly frowned. “Well, usually Mama doesn’t allow for meals in between times… .”
“Gracious, just feed him,” their mother interrupted from the doorway. “I’ll not have it said I starved my own child.” Even with this, there was no real affection in her voice.
“You come with me, Cole. We’ll be in the dining room, Cordelia. Bring him a couple of ham sandwiches and some of that potato salad you and Laurel plan to take to the church social tonight.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Cole said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. He wasn’t sure why he did it—it just seemed the right thing to do.
Mary Selby looked up at him rather shocked. Her hand went to the spot where he’d kissed her; then, as if realizing her action, she quickly turned to lead the way to the dining room.
Cole followed and took the seat she pointed to. “Cordelia will have your lunch in a moment.” She took the chair across the table from him and sat down in her prim and proper manner. They sat in silence until Cordelia brought his food, along with another glass of lemonade.
“Cordelia, I want you to take your brother’s bedroll and saddlebags upstairs. I gave him the empty room.”
“But, Mama, I want to hear Cole’s stories.”
“Do as I say or you won’t be attending the social tonight,” her mother said rather harshly. Cole had never heard his mother so much as raise her voice to his sister. It seemed some things had changed.
&n
bsp; Cordelia darted out of the room, biting her lip. Cole might have laughed if his mother weren’t looking so serious. So rather than cause problems right from the start, Cole dug into the food. Never had anything tasted so good in all his life. The potato salad was creamy and cold, seasoned with just the right amount of spices. He had no idea what went into the dish beyond potatoes, but one thing could be said: his mother was an excellent cook.
“This is really good, Ma,” he told her, hoping that the compliment might thaw her frigid mood.
“Thank you,” she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze.
“The house looks really nice. The stalls for the horses are a good addition. I’m sure your boarders appreciate that.”
“All of my boarders at present are women. None of whom have horses.”
Cole took a bite of the ham sandwich and relished the flavor. His months on the trail would soon leave such luxuries behind. He figured he might as well enjoy it while he had a chance. If only he could find a common ground for discussion with his mother—but she seemed unreachable.
“Cordelia sure has grown up in the last year. She’s pretty too. I suppose Laurel is just as pretty.”
“Probably too much so for her own good.” His mother met his gaze but only momentarily. “Without a man around, we’ve had our share of ne’er-do-wells come courting.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected whether there’s a man around or not. So is Laurel here?”
“She’s with friends.” The stilted words made it clear there would be no further explanation.
Cole had had enough. He took a long drink and decided he would confront her once and for all. If she refused to speak on the matter, he’d simply collect his things and leave. After he ate, of course.
“Ma, I’m sorry that I made you mad by going off with Pa. But frankly, I didn’t think you wanted me here anyway.”
She looked surprised. “What? I asked you to stay.”
Cole nodded and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you did, but I didn’t think it was because you wanted me personally so much as you needed a man to help with the heavy work.”
“Why would you say such a thing? You’re my son. Of course I wanted you to stay.”
“You’ve been cool toward me ever since the girls came along. Every time I sought you out for conversation or even a simple hug, you made me feel I’d asked for far too much.”
His mother looked away. “It was your father’s doing.”
“How so?” Cole had no idea what she was implying.
“He wanted it that way. He said I could have the girls to raise as I pleased, but you were his son and he would see to your needs. I wasn’t to come between you two.” She folded her hands and looked up. “He made it clear I was not to interfere.” She repeated this as if Cole might have missed it the first time.
“But why? I needed you both.”
His mother seemed taken aback by this. “I’m sure he thought I would sissify you.”
Cole didn’t know what to say. The silence engulfed them in a painful vise. Neither could move nor comment. Cole continued to look at his mother, her frail appearance making him wish he’d never said anything.
Finally he went back to eating, afraid to speak the thoughts on his mind. He’d hoped to talk about the past with his mother. To speak of what had happened to Carrie and why he’d come to hate his father. But hearing the bitterness in his mother’s tone, Cole hesitated. He didn’t want to give her any more reason to hate his father. They were, after all, husband and wife.
But even as these thoughts filled his mind, so too did his own indifference. Why should he care if his mother hated his father? If she divorced him, which she wouldn’t, Cole would simply be rid of any chance of seeing the man when he came for visits.
“Your father thought nothing of dragging this family around the country,” his mother began without warning, her voice bearing a sharp edge. “For years I lived with the dread of hearing him say, ‘Pack up.’ I couldn’t bear to hear it again when he announced he wanted to go to the Idaho Territory to look for gold. It was too much for me to deal with. The girls were just starting to have friends. Laurel even had a suitor. I couldn’t do that to them—or to myself.”
“I guess I can understand that,” Cole said after finishing off one of the sandwiches. He toyed with the second one, struggling to know what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was open his heart to his mother only to have her refuse him.
“What happened between you and your father?”
He looked up to meet her gaze. She knew.
“I … well … we had a falling-out, you could say.” Cole still didn’t feel it was right to tell her everything. “I felt like I needed to find my own way—see what life might hold for me. I don’t intend to wander around all my life like he does.”
“I’m glad to hear it. There’s nothing good to be had of it. I can tell you that here and now.”
Cole’s heart went out to her. “I’m sorry you had to live like that, Ma. I never really thought about it. I saw Pa as the outsider all the time—the misfit. He wasn’t good at anything—”
“Because he wouldn’t stick with any one thing,” his mother interrupted.
“I don’t intend to be like that. I want to find what I’m good at. What I love.”
“And do you love working with the wagon train?”
Cole shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve only just started and haven’t really had to be too far removed from civilization. Our train is over two hundred wagons strong, and there is a kind of satisfaction in helping to guide those folks west to their dreams.”
“Just don’t spend your life going from one thing to another in order to figure what you’re good at. If you find something you like, make it work. Learn to be good at it even if you aren’t skilled to start out with. No one is born with the ability to do things perfectly. God has a purpose for your life and if you seek Him, you’ll find it.”
Cole frowned at this and turned back to the food. He didn’t want to think about God right now. God had disappointed him and left him to face the future without the woman he loved. God seemed like a cruel and harsh master at this point—no different from the Southern masters who provided for their slaves with one hand and beat them with the other.
“Why don’t you stay here with us?” his mother suddenly questioned. “I could use your help.”
Cole considered the possibility for a moment, then shook his head. “I signed a contract with Mr. Keefer. I don’t want to give my word and then take it back. I’ll see this wagon train through. If I feel it’s right to come home after that, then I just might take you up on your offer.”
His mother got to her feet and motioned to the plate. “Do you want more to eat?”
“No, this is plenty. I’ll finish this up and then if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a bath. I’ve been on the trail a while and could sure stand to clean up.”
“That would be fine. Supper is at six.”
He went back to eating as his mother moved toward the door. He had the sandwich halfway to his mouth when she turned on her heel.
“How is your father doing?”
Cole swallowed hard and put the sandwich back down. “When I left, he was fine. He managed to find enough gold to keep him in tobacco and food, but there was never any big strike of luck for us Selby men.” He tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come.
“There never has been,” his mother commented dryly. “Why should it change now?” With that she turned and hurried from the room, leaving Cole to feel as though she’d passed some prophetic judgment on him as well as his father.
Maybe coming to Topeka hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
CHAPTER 8
THE WEEKS SLIPPED BY FOR DIANNE. THERE WAS LITTLE TO DISTIN guish one day from another. The work was hard, harder than anything she’d ever known. Her mother had taken ill and seemed weak most of the time, remaining in the wagon to rest. Dianne had charge over the wagon, driving the oxen along the t
rail behind her brothers’ wagons.
Dianne didn’t really mind the task. The oxen were good-natured and strong workers. They needed little guidance, as they seemed content to follow the wagon in front of them without fussing or balking. Each morning her brothers would take on the task of rounding up the animals and yoking them while Dianne prepared breakfast for the family and their little sisters gathered any spare firewood that could be found. They had all fallen into an acceptable routine.
“Look, Dianne,” Betsy said, coming up from behind. “Mrs. Delbert’s dog had puppies.” She held up a tiny bundle of black and white fur.
“Oh, he’s adorable,” Dianne said, reaching out to stroke the downy fur. “And so soft.” She smiled at her sister, noting the look of pure delight on Betsy’s face.
“Mrs. Delbert said we could have him when we get to Virginia City. Do you think Ma would let us?”
“Ma did say you could get a dog when we got settled in,” Dianne replied, turning back to the oatmeal. “I suppose you could take him to show her and ask for yourself.”
“This one’s only a week old. Mrs. Delbert said by the time we reach Virginia City, he’ll be old enough to leave his mama.”
Dianne smiled. Betsy was such a charmer; their mother was sure to agree to the arrangement.
Before they knew it, breakfast was finished and cleaned up and the wagon train was on the move once again. Eastern Kansas woodlands gave way to virgin farmland and prairie plains. Nebraska looked much the same, and Dianne seriously wondered how the leaders knew where one state or territory ended and another began.
She walked at a steady pace beside her oxen team. The tall prairie grass had been beaten down in this area from multiple wagon trains headed west. Deep ruts were formed in the ground where hundreds, maybe even a thousand wagons had gone before theirs. It put Dianne in deep thought as she considered the pioneers who had moved west to start new lives. These ruts represented their hopes and dreams. At the same time, a dead horse or the skeletal remains of an ox reminded Dianne of the frailty of life. Had the people traveling before her actually reached their destination? An occasional grave marker suggested that not all of them had. The graves always discouraged Dianne, but she said nothing to her family about it. The boys wouldn’t understand, and her sisters were too young and would only be frightened. And there was no sense in talking to her mother—she’d seen enough death. To contemplate the graves alongside the trail would only cause her further pain.
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