Land of My Heart (25 page)

Trenton wrestled with the idea for a minute. He knew how his mother would feel about her eldest son turning gambler, but he wasn’t sure there was any other choice. No one would hire him for honest work.

Then he thought of Dianne and knew her disappointment would be more than he’d ever want to face. She had high hopes for him to make something of himself. So many times they’d talked long into the night about what he might try his hand at. Dianne felt he’d make a good business owner, but not in the mercantile or dry goods arena. She saw him more as owning a freighting company or working in delivery. That way he’d be outdoors most of the time, enjoying a life that at least had the pretense of freedom.

He looked down at the cards in his hand. Two kings, a ten, a six, and a five. Not much to go on, but a pair was better than nothing. Maybe he and Henry could make a good pair. It was something—which was more than he had right now.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Something small to begin with, so I can be sure and get my pistol back.”

Henry laughed and nodded. “I knew you’d see the sense of it.”

CHAPTER 17

T
HE CHADWICK SIBLINGS SOLD OFF EVERYTHING THAT WASN’T NECESSARY
to getting them through the winter. The auction had gone well, as there were numerous gold miners who were desperate for goods and supplies. The auction lasted barely an hour, in fact, because people were so bent on purchasing the items quickly.

Dianne even managed to speak to a woman at the auction who knew of a place the Chadwicks could rent. It wasn’t much, she told Dianne, but it would be a heap better than living in a wagon all winter. Dianne jumped at the chance but found it rather discouraging when she actually saw the place for the first time.

It was just a one-room cabin, located on the north side of town. There were no windows, but there wasn’t any real need for them—the holes in the walls from missing chinking were big enough to put a fist through.

Dianne hadn’t been happy about the situation, but there was nothing else available. The hotel was full and the boardinghouses hadn’t had vacancies in months. With winter coming on and the baby due in December, Dianne knew it was their only hope.

Working to make the cabin into a home, Dianne had tacked up some of the wagon canvas to the walls in order to block out the weather. Still, it was chilly, and the price of coal or other fuel to heat the small cabin left her worried that they’d soon run through their nest egg.

“How’s Ma feeling?” Morgan asked as he and Zane came in for supper that evening.

“I haven’t gotten her to talk to me all day,” Dianne said, setting a batch of biscuits on the back of the tiny stove. They were burned on the bottoms, but it seemed impossible to regulate the temperature in the oven.

“Do you think she needs a doctor?” Zane asked. The boys sat down on the crudely made bench on the opposite side of the table.

“I wish I knew,” Dianne said, bringing them each a bowl of stew. “How did work go today?” She was glad the twins had been able to find odd jobs around town. Both of them were now working for a freighting company, loading and unloading the various shipments of goods.

“It’s a job,” Morgan said.

Dianne put the biscuits onto a plate and brought them to the table. “Will they have work for you through the winter?”

Zane shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I heard them talkin’ about the gold not playing out like it should.”

“They’ve struck gold up at someplace north. Last Chance Gulch, I think they called it,” Morgan added.

Zane tore off a piece of biscuit. “One of the men figures this town won’t be long running as a gold camp.”

“I can’t say that would grieve me any,” Dianne declared as she took a seat opposite them. “I’ve never seen so many lowlifes in all my days. I went to the store to sell eggs this morning and was nearly accosted. It seems eggs are pretty prized around here.” She glanced over to the corner where four rather content hens sat in crates stacked atop each other.

“You probably shouldn’t go to town without one of us along. There are a lot of rowdies who give no thought to proper manners.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but honestly, some things can’t wait. I mean— look—it’s already seven-thirty. The store’s been closed for over an hour.

It wouldn’t have done me much good to wait. I needed supplies for supper.”

“Well, in the future,” Morgan suggested, “if you can wait for one of us, it would probably be better.”

Dianne nodded and began eating. She looked to the bed on the far side of the room where their mother slept. She worried about the situation more than she could ever let on to her brothers. Her mother seemed to have no interest in life. Dianne often had to force her to eat, sitting at her mother’s side and spooning in nourishment until her mother absolutely refused to take another bite.

“I think that milk cow is going to calve come spring,” Zane said, surprising Dianne. “That ought to bring us more milk.”

“And a calf to sell,” Dianne replied. She constantly worried about the money they’d need to survive. They had enough, even plenty at this point, but prices were outrageous and there was the possibility that they would never find their uncle.

“What are we going to do,” she asked suddenly, “if Uncle Bram doesn’t show up?”

Zane looked to Morgan and then to Dianne. “Well, we were talking about that the other day. Seems to me, you and Ma should go back to Missouri. Maybe not New Madrid, but somewhere with enough city and such to live comfortably.”

“How would we get there and how would we afford a place to live once we were there?” Dianne asked frankly.

“Morgan and I would send you money. You might even be able to locate Trenton and he could take care of you both. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would probably be a better situation than having you stay here.”

Dianne thought of the long trip back to Missouri. “I don’t think Mama could bear the trip. Especially with a new baby. I think we’ll have to consider some other possibilities. Maybe we could build us a better cabin—away from town. You boys could learn how and we could set up a regular house. I can sew fairly well and can make us whatever linens or curtains we might need. We kept back quite a bit of cloth when we had the auction. Seems like there would be enough there for just about anything we’d need.”

“I doubt it would be that easy,” Morgan replied.

His dirty blond hair fell in matted waves almost to his shoulders. It was the first time Dianne thought of him needing a haircut. She looked at Zane. He was a mirror image of his brother. They both had lost the innocent boyish look to their faces. In its place was a hard, careworn expression.

“Well, maybe we won’t have to worry about it. After all, the postmaster said Uncle Bram always comes in for mail and supplies this time of year. He stocks up before winter and then comes again in the spring. Anyway, the postmaster promised to give him the message that we’ve arrived.” Dianne could only hope that he wouldn’t forget.

“That’s what we’re counting on,” Zane said, getting up to dish a second helping of the stew. “If Uncle Bram comes and takes control of the situation, then we won’t have anything to worry about.”

Dianne nodded. So much hinged on Uncle Bram—a man she’d never met—whose letters telling of the northern wilderness had fascinated her since childhood.

Dianne went through some of their personal belongings the next day. She hadn’t realized how very little they actually owned. They’d brought very few household goods except for the few articles she had in her cedar chest. They’d not seen a need for it. They’d assumed Uncle Bram would have dishes and linens and blankets. Except for the things they’d used on the trip west and now used for everyday life, there was nothing that suggested this cabin was a home.

Dianne thought of taking some of her sisters’ clothes and extra material and making some rag rugs like Faith had taught her. Originally, she’d thought to spread the wagon canvas on the floors, but they’d needed that for the walls. She’d even taken to stuffing the
Montana Post
in the cracks—after they’d read it from cover to cover—and still the cabin was unbearably cold at night.

She went to the trunk where Ardith’s dresses had been packed and found herself moved by the sight of her sister’s doll. The porcelain-faced beauty that Ardith had dubbed Miss Kilpatrick, after her third-grade teacher, was the one luxury Ardith had decided to bring on the trip. Dianne gently touched the gold ringlets that cascaded from beneath a velvet bonnet of pale blue.

She missed her sisters more than she could say. The pain in her heart overwhelmed her when Dianne allowed the memories to linger too long.

“Who will take care of my babies?”
Ardith had asked in desperate concern.

Dianne could still see her worried expression as she sat amongst her dolls and tried to decide who could come and who would have to be left behind.

“I wish I’d given her space in my trunk to bring them all,” Dianne whispered and clutched the doll to her breast. “Oh, Ardith—precious little sister. If only I could have found you.”

She put the doll aside and pulled out Ardith’s red calico dress. The gown had suffered much wear but would be good for tearing into strips for a rug. Next there was a plain brown print that Ardith had always hated but which was quite serviceable for everyday use. That left only her Sunday best, which Dianne couldn’t bring herself to tear up. She placed Miss Kilpatrick atop the pale pink gown and closed the trunk lid.

Next she went to Betsy’s trunk. It was smaller by half than her own but seemed large enough for the tiny six-year-old. Inside Dianne found Betsy’s baby doll, Millie. She’d been given the doll on her second birthday and the two had been inseparable. Until now.

Dianne wiped at the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
They were just little babies. They did nothing wrong. Why are they dead?
She hugged Millie, as she had Miss Kilpatrick, as if the feel of these inanimate objects could somehow bring her closer to what she’d lost.

Farther in the trunk, Dianne found Betsy’s three everyday dresses. They’d buried her in her Sunday best, so all three of these gowns, worn from the activities of a rambunctious child, would be perfect for her project. She put Millie back in the trunk atop Betsy’s sunbonnet and shawl. There was also a little coat that Dianne remembered as a Christmas gift from the year before.

She closed the lid and looked at the gowns beside her. A part of her wanted to just put them back and not tear them up. Another part knew they were useless where they lay. They weren’t good enough to sell and besides, Dianne couldn’t bear to think of other little girls wearing her sisters’ gowns. The rugs would serve to remind her of Ardith and Betsy every day—much better than wasting away in a trunk.

Days later, Dianne was sitting at the table tearing the material into strips for braiding when her mother let out a terrible moan and sat up in bed. Dianne put aside her work and got to her feet.

“Mama, are you all right? Do you need help?”

“What are you doing?” her mother asked groggily. She struggled to sit up on the rope bed.

Dianne went quickly to her. “Are you hungry? I have some potato soup. I’ve kept it warm on the back of the stove.”

“No, I’m not hungry. Where are the boys?”

Her mother looked terrible. The dark half circles under her eyes had expanded to full circles and gave her a ghastly look against her pasty complexion. Her cheeks were sunken, leaving her face quite drawn.

“Morgan and Zane are working. They’ll be home this evening.”

Her mother barely seemed to register the information. “Have you heard from my brother yet?”

Dianne shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve checked at the post office, but there’s no news.”

“Well, go again,” her mother said, her tone determined. She ignored Dianne and pushed past her to go to her trunk. She opened the lid, appearing to barely have the strength for the task.

Dianne came forward. “Let me help you. What are you looking for?”

“I don’t need any help,” her mother said, continuing her search. When she produced a dark brown bottle, Dianne felt her hopes fade that her mother might be on the mend.

“Mama, you shouldn’t be taking that laudanum.” Dianne had wondered where the bottles had gone. When they’d had the auction, a local doctor had offered to buy any and all medicines they might have brought with them. He was especially pleased to have laudanum, but Dianne had been shocked to find many bottles missing. She reached out gently and repeated herself. “You shouldn’t take that.”

“You shouldn’t speak to me in such a manner. I’ll do what I please.” Her mother jerked away.

Dianne felt there was nothing to do but return to her work on the rugs. Her mother had strange lucid moments like this, and when they came, there was no sense in questioning her actions or deeds. She was in a world unto herself.

“I asked you before, what are you doing?” her mother said, coming to the table where Dianne was working.

“I’m making a rag rug. The dirt floor gets pretty cold and since the boys and I have to sleep there, I thought I’d do what I could to make it more comfortable. I don’t have a lot of scraps yet, but I thought I’d check around town. I might even use some of the new material, but it seems a pity to waste it that way.”