Place to Belong, a (27 page)

Arriving back at the Engstroms' some days later, she had exactly seven cents in profit. She would have to do better in the future.

When she told her story, the whole story, that night by the fireplace after supper, Mavis had only one thing to say. “You will never again go to a contest by yourself.” Cassie nodded. But who would accompany her?

S
now bullets hammered him, driven by a screaming wind. And that was just his face. His toes were cold, his fingers colder, his nose numb. A snowstorm in early May! Ransom could remember only one other May storm this bad, and he was too young that time to go out and help his father. The wind was driving the snow across the hillside horizontally now, turning this freak storm into a true blizzard. Pretty soon he wouldn't be able to see. He was sure glad he had given Mor his strong, dependable horse, because she was out in this weather too.

Up ahead there, huddled under the only trees around, were four mama cows and their calves. He turned Biscuit that way and rode up and behind them. He noted that the trees offered a little protection and these calves were less than a month old. Should he drive them all down to the barn and maybe lose a couple calves that couldn't make it that far in the deepening snow? Or leave them here, probably to starve before the snow melted off enough to uncover the grass? How long would this storm last, and how deep would the snow get before it was done? Already at least a foot blanketed the valley, and who knew how
much more was coming. He decided to try driving them down to the barnyard and hay piles.

The boss cow of this bunch was reluctant to leave the trees, and he had trouble getting them moving. Finally she gave up and trudged down the slope, her wobbly calf at her heels. Maybe she knew better than he did. Or maybe she was misjudging the storm.

Ransom should be praying now. But prayer came with difficulty lately, if at all.

The boss cow's calf was the first to flounder and fall exhausted in the snow. She stopped. Ransom dismounted and put the calf on his horse, draped it across the mane just in front of the fork. Biscuit sidestepped and tossed her head. She didn't like the situation any more than the calf did. Ransom climbed aboard again, dismayed at how cold his feet were. The calf bleated once and settled in for the uncomfortable ride.

A second calf went down. Ransom had to drape that one over the back of his neck, its sharp little hooves kicking under his chin. He was past feeling sorry for himself. This was absolute horrible, total misery, for sure. More than misery. Potentially fatal, if he got lost in this mess. At least the cows and horse knew the way to the barn, because right now he wasn't sure where they were.

Was that his name? He heard it again somewhere out on the wind. He called back as loud as he could.

“Ransom!” A very faint voice. A woman. Did Mor come out here? She was supposed to go looking for cows to the north of the barn. Micah and Chief were riding off west, and Arnett had headed south.

Here came Cassie toward him on Wind Dancer! That crazy girl! She urged her horse to a lope and drew in alongside. “Ransom! Mavis found a couple and Micah and Chief came back with two, so they thought the rest ought to be up here. I came
out to help.” She rode in hard beside him. “Here. Give me that one.” She reached for the calf around his neck.

He took off his hat, bent his head forward, and dragged the struggling calf off his shoulders. It squirmed mightily and he almost dropped it handing it across to her, but they got it draped across her saddle. That saddle. It for sure wasn't a roping saddle. No horn. Instead, it had handles here and there that she would hold on to as she did tricks while her horse cantered full tilt around an arena. What a crazy way to make a living! But then, was it any crazier than riding around lost in a May snowstorm? He paused to look at her face. Her nose and cheeks were red, wet, probably burning with pain, but she didn't seem to care. Strange girl.

They started forward again, Ransom in the lead with the boss cow's calf, Cassie falling in at the rear. And it struck him. Not a girl. This was a woman, a strong woman. She had never once traveled alone, yet she went by herself to Louisville, more than a thousand miles away. She claimed the person who tried to enter her hotel room that night was a confused drunkard, but Ransom would bet that it was the desk clerk himself, trying to enter to . . . He couldn't allow himself to think about that, at least not right now. But she'd been sitting there with a loaded shotgun, defending herself when she had no one to do it for her. As furious as he was that she exposed herself to danger over and over, he had to admit that in a pinch, she could handle the situation. That's not a defenseless girl. That's a woman, as strong and dependable and resourceful as his own mother.

“Ransom? Another one is down!”

He turned back. The boss cow continued on thirty feet and stopped, twisted her head around to look at him.
Come on, will you
?

He got off and scooped the calf up, laid it across Wind Dancer's neck just ahead of Cassie's saddle, climbed aboard again, and they continued on. How much farther?

Over a mile, as it turned out. Finally through the driving snow he could see the barn, very faint, a light gray ghost in an ocean of hazy white. The lead cow broke into a trot, her bag swinging with each stride. Why did cows' teats not freeze the way his nose did? They ought to.

The fourth calf, the biggest of the bunch, made it in on his own, which was a blessing, since they were running out of places to carry calves. Blessing. Ransom had seen precious little in the way of blessings lately.

As Ransom dismounted and dragged the calf off his horse's neck, Mor came hustling over. “Oh, thank you, God! Cassie, you found him!” Arnett came limping up behind her.

Cassie slid off Wind Dancer. “I could follow his tracks out until that rise, but there the wind filled them in, and I lost the trail. So I just kept going in that direction hollering, and he finally answered.” She pulled the calf off her saddle. It bleated and ran to mama.

Ransom lifted off the other calf. “That was foolish!” He felt his anger building again.

“No it wasn't. Wind Dancer would know the way back.” She mounted again.

“Looks like she came in pretty handy.” Arnett came up beside them, smiling. “Mighta lost a couple calves.”

Ransom hated when those two failed to agree with him. Which was usually, it seemed.

Arnett lost his happy smile. “I had to come in before I searched over by the rocks. That old plow horse isn't used to carrying a grown man ten miles.”

“How many are missing yet?”

Mor lost her happy look too. “Micah and Chief went out again, but so far we're missing over a dozen. More.”

“I'll go out toward the rocks, see what I can find.” Wearily Ransom crawled aboard Biscuit again.

As he left the barnyard, Cassie was following him. He stopped. “You stay here.”

“Mor said we're missing over a dozen. If you find that many, you'll need me, and Wind Dancer is still doing fine.”

Now even Cassie was contradicting him, questioning his judgment! Totally disgusted with life, he twisted Biscuit's head aside fiercely and kicked her into a trot. On the other hand, maybe Cassie would decide to take his advice. He glanced back.

She had Wind Dancer right at Biscuit's heels, and she was watching him, looking stunningly sad.

He wished he hadn't done that. Now he really felt like a heel.

Fortunately, he knew the lay of the land well, because he could not see the rocks and had to follow the slopes. The road wound out across the hill somewhere close by, but it was totally obliterated. He moved upslope a little, nearer the trees. The other cows had been hunkered down in the trees, so maybe these would be too.

And there they were. Another blessing. They were a couple miles this side of the rocks, that much less distance to have to drive them home. He shook his seagrass rope loose, the better to herd them. Waving his lariat, he rode up behind the boss cow and tried to get her moving. She wasn't leaving. Not only did Arnett and Cassie and his own mother say he was wrong, now a stupid cow was contradicting him! All patience lost, he swatted her on the rump with his coiled rope. She bolted, wagged her head, and started moving. Why couldn't people admit Ransom might be right once in a while, like the cow did?

Cassie rode behind the bunch, weaving Wind Dancer back and forth, as if she'd been herding cattle all her life. But then, Ransom thought, she'd been around cattle—and buffalo—all her life. This was an extension of that, in a way. She seemed to have a natural aptitude for this sort of thing.

The bunch moved out onto the slope, and Ransom could
pretty much give Biscuit her head. She knew the way, the cows knew the way, and they were headed home. Half a mile along, a cow mooed from somewhere uphill to the left, the wind muffling the sound, the snow clouding his vision. The lead bossy stopped and bawled back. Here came another half dozen mamas out of the wind-driven haze toward them, lowing. Yet another blessing. Ransom would never have spotted them out there.

Cassie broke away and rode up behind them, pushing them down to join the herd. She swung out to turn back a straggler. Wind Dancer had lost his playful prance. The lead bossy continued forward toward safety and hay.

Dark fell earlier with the storm, making visibility even worse when the cows trailed into the barnyard, slogging wearily, heads down. Cassie had two calves draped across her saddle, and Ransom had three. He had been forced for the last two miles to ride behind his saddle so that he could put two calves in the seat.

He slid off Biscuit's rump, as weary as his cattle. His cattle. His responsibility. And he had discharged that responsibility as best he could, just as his father always did. He pulled the calves down and set them on their feet. The mamas buried their heads in the haystack, their babies nursed. As far as he could tell, no calves lost, the mamas all safe. That gave him a small measure of satisfaction. Well, when he thought about it, maybe not so small.

Cassie was out by the rail unsaddling her weary horse. He should go over there right now and thank her. Without her he would not have been able to bring in the whole bunch safely. Then he saw her profile as she turned to drape her saddle over the top rail. She was either angry or sad or both, or could it be something else? He couldn't read her expression, but it certainly wasn't saying anything about satisfaction. Wasn't she happy they'd saved the cattle? Wasn't she pleased to be of such help to him? What should he say to her? He had no idea. He ended up saying nothing.

Supper that night was very quiet, but you could chalk the silence off to exhaustion. Arnett looked so tired he could scarcely lift his fork. The old man wasn't used to riding for miles in a howling storm. Mor, the same. Ransom was totally knackered. Cassie must be as well, for she was silent too, you might even call it grumpy. Probably just weary like everyone else.

The next morning the wind had died and the snowfall had quit, but nothing was melting yet. After a hurried breakfast, Ransom fitted the sledge runners onto the wagon again and drove out to the other place. When Mor suggested he wait a day, he'd shaken his head. He needed to deliver the furniture now. Snow in May! Honestly.

Arnett needed a day of rest to recover, so Ransom didn't even ask him to go along. He heard axes splitting wood long before he started up the hill toward the cabin. Chief and Micah were keeping the home fires burning, literally, so he continued on without getting them. They were obviously busy. It wasn't that big a chore to load the pieces he wanted to take to Mr. Porter. It just took a little more effort. He wasn't satisfied with them, really. The workmanship was not the best that he and his men were capable of, but Mr. Porter wanted them now. They would have to do. They were heavy for sure. Did that count for anything?

His long alone time as he drove his team toward Hill City gave him lots of time to think. But when he pulled up in front of the hotel, his thoughts were just as muddled as ever, and Cassie dominated them. He didn't know what to do about her or about earning some money or about anything else, at least not anything he hadn't already thought about a dozen times, or a hundred. And Lucas fired his anger as much as ever, maybe even more so. He had really needed Lucas yesterday when bringing in the cattle, and Lucas wasn't there. What if they hadn't got
them all? What if Cassie or Mor, or Arnett even, had run into trouble or gotten lost? Women and an old man out doing what Lucas should have been doing.