Place to Belong, a (15 page)

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.

S
o 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.

With the coffee near to boiling, she hummed as she set water on for the oatmeal and brought in ham to slice. She could at least make breakfasts now. She may have to cook three breakfasts a day, but her husband would not starve. Her kitchen skills were definitely improving.

“You sound cheerful.” Mavis tied on her apron as she came through the door.

“I am. Christmas is coming.”

“Yes, it is. We'll have a busy weekend. With Christmas falling on a Sunday this year, we'll go to church as usual Sunday morning. And we'll decorate the tree tomorrow, Christmas Eve. But first we've got the party tonight. I plan on taking an elk roast, along with two cakes and probably pickles. I think we'll make a couple loaves of bread and potato salad too. Have you ever made potato salad?”

“No, but I'm always willing to learn.”

“I know you are, Cassie dear. That is why I have such a wonderful time teaching you. Do you want to do the bread today?”

“What kind?”

“Regular bread.” Mavis measured the oatmeal into the boiling water and threw in several handfuls of raisins. “Lucas went down to the barn?”

“I think so; I think it was he I heard. You know, when spring comes, will we do a garden at the other house too?” Why wasn't she able to say
my house
yet? Surely that would change when she and Lucas moved over there.

“Of course. I was thinking we should plant more potatoes there and other root crops. That way I won't have to make my garden plot bigger. Especially if we are going to feed Easterners. It would be good if beans and some other things were producing by then, but we'll have to have an early spring for that to happen.”

Cassie slapped the largest cast-iron frying pan on the hot
part of the stove, then poured them each a cup of coffee and motioned for Mavis to sit.

“Cassie, you spoil me.” She sat down and inhaled the steam. “There is nothing like the first cup of coffee in the morning.”

“I agree.” Transferring a plate of corn bread from the warming oven to the table, she sat down and passed the syrup. “Would you rather have jelly?”

“I'll have jelly later. This is perfect. I feel like I'm loafing.” The two smiled at each other and dug into the square of corn bread.

Thank goodness for snow on boots. The stamp of feet on the porch announced the arrival of the men long before Arnett came through the door, with Lucas right behind him.

“Looks like it might snow out there. Nothing like coming into a warm, food-smelling kitchen.” Arnett hung up his coat. “Gretchen's Biscuit is saddled but still down in the barn.”

Cassie finished her treat and got up to pour more coffee. She turned the ham steaks and set the dish-towel-covered pan of corn bread on the warming shelf.

Just as Cassie heard more boots on the porch, Gretchen wandered into the kitchen and slumped in a chair. “I really don't feel like doing anything today. I want to stay home.”

“What's the matter?” Her mother laid the back of her hand against her daughter's forehead. “No fever. Away you go. You told Jenna you would help the Hendersons today, and they're counting on you.”

Gretchen grimaced and accepted a mug of hot coffee.

Ransom came stomping in, milk pail in hand, bringing chill air with him. “I opened the fence to that second haystack,” he said as he hung up his things. “We won't have to take that load out.”

“So we'll finish up the milling?” Arnett asked over his coffee cup.

“And hopefully get the boards hauled down to the barn. Should be a couple of loads.”

“I was thinking,” Mavis started and stopped when she heard her sons groan. “You could at least let me finish.”

Cassie grinned, down inside of course, or the boys might feel embarrassed.

Lucas snorted. “We could, but every time you use those words, it means more work for us.”

“Every time?”

“Sure seems that way.” Lucas sat down at the table. “You better get a move on, squirt. You wouldn't want to miss out on any work. I hear they're butchering two hogs. Two! That's gonna be so much fun, right?”

Gretchen rolled her eyes.

Cassie slid half a dozen fried eggs onto a platter, piled the ham on another, and set both platters on the table. “Arnett, it's your turn to say grace.” She could feel her eyes growing round. How could she have said that?! What audacity! Downright rude. All of those at the table stared at her, and then the old man burst out laughing.

“Well, I guess I really am part of this family now. Let's pray.” He paused. “Dear Lord, thank you for this family and all the love around this table. Thank you for bringing us together, and thank you for the food that you bless us with. I am so grateful. Amen.”

Cassie slid into her chair. “I . . . I don't know what got into me.”

Mavis chuckled and patted her hand. “God did, Cassie dear, as a good and gentle reminder.” She slid a slice of ham onto her plate and then finished the last bit of oatmeal. “Sitting and being served like this makes me feel guilty.”

Ransom shook his head. “Don't waste your time with guilt. That's what someone I know well always tells me.”

“I wonder who that could be.” Mavis raised her eyebrows, obviously trying to look innocent.

With everyone chuckling, Cassie patted Mavis's hand. “Mothers are supposed to say things like that. At least that's what my mother told me.”

Gretchen pushed her chair back. “Guess I'm on my way.” She rose, kissed her mother's cheek, and headed for the coatrack. “Thanks for getting my horse ready, Mr. Arnett. See you all later. Much later.”

Cassie watched the girl bundle up and head out the back door. The thought of riding in this cold did not sound appealing. She turned to Arnett. “Is it really going to snow today?”

“Sure looks and feels like it.”

“But how do you know?”

“By the clouds and the wind; snow clouds have a look all their own. You'll come to know that when you been here awhile.”

“So there is a difference between rain clouds and snow clouds?”

“Yep. One's in winter with the cold air, but you can smell rain coming too.”

“Really?” Cassie glanced around the table to see the others nodding. “More to learn, eh?”

Arnett grinned. “You keep on with the cooking, dear Cassie. You been learning plenty.”

Cassie looked up to catch a wink from Lucas. Funny how that little bitty thing made her feel good.

By the time the men were out the door on their way up the hill, Cassie was kneading more flour into the sourdough starter. She'd already added bacon grease, molasses, and the ground-up oatmeal. Who would think you could grind oatmeal fine in a coffee grinder? “So what other things might you add to the regular bread dough, either sourdough or potato starter?” Sometimes they bought yeast now at the store in town, so now there were more ways to do things.

Mavis put the last of the dishes on the rack. “Sometimes I
add cornmeal, rye flour when I can find it, eggs, or more sugar or honey for a sweeter dough. Different grains make different kinds of flour. Now those oatmeal bits will make a chewier bread. You know the shelled corn we feed the chickens? We should bring some of that in and run it through the coffee mill. I've not done it, but I heard someone else talking about doing it; might be worth experimenting with.”

“But it all uses the same basic recipe?” There was so much to learn, so much to remember!

“Yep. Oh. Currants or raisins make a sweeter bread too. And cinnamon. Oh, how I love a loaf of cinnamon bread. In fact, let's take part of this and do just that. But the dough has to rise and be punched down and then after the second rise, when we shape the loaves, we roll one flat out like cinnamon rolls, add cinnamon and sugar, and then roll it up and shape it into a loaf. We'll have that for breakfast tomorrow morning. Now, if I were going to be really fancy, I could slice that loaf and make it into French toast for something special.”

Mavis got started on the cakes for the party while Cassie kept on kneading. Thump and turn and roll the dough in and push it down again. The rhythm now came automatically, just like Mavis had said it would. And her thoughts could drift elsewhere as she worked. There was something special about baking bread, all right.

Far too quickly that day, Gretchen was back and they were all ready to leave for the party at the church meeting hall. Cassie was having a full-blown butterfly attack. This was worse than before any ring performance. In a performance, she knew exactly what she was going to do. And she knew that almost always she could get her audience oohing and aahing and laughing. Not this time.

If only she could stay home . . . but then Gretchen would
feel hurt, and there was no need to cause that to happen. They packed the food in baskets and stowed them in the frigid sleigh. With heavy blankets to snuggle in and heated stones as warm footrests for their feet, the sleigh was quite cozy. Lucas chose to ride, since there really wasn't room for one more adult in the sleigh. He tucked the robes around them and swung aboard his horse. He was soon out of sight far ahead.