The Coming Storm

by Tracie Peterson

  Bufford met her eyes. He had a way of searching her face that made Dianne feel as if he could ascertain the truth merely by study. He nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am. Many a good Southern man was lost to those Northern defilers.”

  “Yes, sir. Please, can you come?”

  Bufford squared his shoulders. “I’ll get my bag.”

  CHAPTER 11

  HEZEKIAH BUFFORD LOOKED AT BRAM’S INFECTED LEG AND shook his head. “No, ma’am, this is certainly not good. The leg will have to be amputated to even give him a chance of living. I can’t give you much hope, however, on that part. He’s very ill and the shock of the surgery will likely kill him. I wouldn’t expect him to live.”

  Koko stood on the opposite side of the bed. “He has to live. He has children who need a father and a ranch to work. He loves his life here. He must live.”

  Bufford eyed her with contempt. “You are of the heathen blood, are you not?”

  Koko narrowed her dark eyes. “I am of a Blackfoot mother and white father. So for as much heathen blood as I have, I have equal amounts of white blood.”

  Bufford shook his head and scratched his stubbly chin. “It doesn’t work that way, and the sooner you colored folks learn that, the better.”

  Though she despised the man’s attitude, Dianne quickly moved to intervene. “Please put aside such concerns and do what you must to save his life. If surgery is required, we can set up the dining room. Just tell us what you need.”

  Faith and Malachi entered the room at that moment. “Can we help?” Faith asked, not realizing what had just transpired.

  “I don’t work with heathens or darkies,” the man replied, looking to Dianne. “If you want my help, you’ll get me decent white men. Otherwise, I’m leaving.” His icy stare made it clear that he’d not be persuaded to do otherwise.

  Koko looked as if she might say something, but Dianne shook her head and took charge. Noting that Jamie was playing in the hallway just outside the parlor, she motioned. “Faith, why don’t you and Malachi take the children to your cabin. That way they won’t have to be around while the surgery is performed Koko, we’ll need hot water and bandages. We’ll need to tear up some flour sacks.”

  Everyone seemed frozen in place. Dianne looked to each with a silent warning in her expression. Bram needed Bufford, and Bufford would not work without having things his way Finally Faith nodded, and she and Malachi backed out of the room.

  “Come on, Jamie. We’re going on an adventure,” Faith said as she picked the boy up.

  “Going hunting?” Jamie asked.

  “Maybe we can hunt around the cabin,” Faith said, trying to keep the boy interested. Since his father had been brought in, Jamie had remained close at hand. Taking him now wouldn’t be easy, but Dianne knew that Faith understood the importance.

  “Maybe you could bring your bow and arrows. The ones your uncle gave you.”

  Jamie clapped his hands. “I kill Papa’s bear.”

  Dianne watched as Faith handed the boy over to Malachi “Yes. You can go hunting for bear,” she whispered.

  Baby Susannah slept in a small cradle across the room. Faith crossed to retrieve the sleeping child. “Koko, you just come on down if you need to nurse her; otherwise I’ll give her some sugar water.”

  Koko nodded, but it was clear her mind was far from the child. Dianne gently touched her aunt. “We’ll need lots of bandages. We have to keep the wound clean. Maybe you could fix up some willow tea too. That’s done a good job of fighting the fever.”

  Koko finally nodded, although her stern gaze was fixed on Bufford’s unapologetic expression.

  “You’ll need a hot fire too,” the doctor added in a gravelly voice. “And heat a poker. I’ll need to cauterize the wound.”

  Koko finally walked around the bed and stopped momentarily beside Dianne. “I do this only to save his life. His life is more precious than my pride.”

  Dianne nodded and patted her aunt on the back as she exited the room. Finally Dianne eyed the doctor again. “There aren’t many men available to help. The cattle are being rounded up for the move to winter pasture. I’ll see who I can find, but you may have to swallow your pride and take help where it can be had. I pray that if you’re any kind of a doctor at all, you’ll put aside your prejudices in order to save lives.”

  With that she stalked from the room, trying to contain her anger. She had dealt with her mother’s prejudice, but only in part. Dr. Bufford’s attitude was clearly the same as her mother’s had been. Dianne struggled to understand how people could be so hateful, especially in a time of need.

  She rounded up a couple of ranch hands, who were happy to help, eager to see their boss return to work. Everyone loved Bram, and this knowledge only furthered Dianne’s willingness to do whatever she could to see him restored to health. They were living a part of her uncle’s dream—his desire to see the land tamed and civilized. Had he not been there, none of the rest of them would have been there either.

  When she entered the house, she found Koko had already transformed the dining room into an operating theater. The table had been stripped of its lovely cloth once again and in its place an oiled cloth had been spread. The cowboys soon brought Bram’s unconscious form to rest upon the fine oak wood. They grimaced at the stench as the doctor uncovered the leg wound once again.

  He glanced up to meet Dianne’s gaze. “I have no bone saw with me.”

  “There’s a saw in the barn,” she replied, forcing the contents of her stomach to remain where they belonged. “It’s brandnew— just bought a couple weeks ago.”

  “Get it.”

  The time passed quickly after that. Dianne couldn’t even remember what happened after one of the cowboys returned with the saw. She stood ready to offer help, but the surgery happened more quickly and with less ceremony than she had anticipated. The doctor cut through the swollen red flesh, using the poker to close any new sources of blood. Next he sawed through the bone and instructed the cowboys to dispose of the leg in a deep grave lest it attract animals.

  By the time Dianne could think reasonably again, the procedure was over and she was calmly handing bandages to Dr Bufford.

  “Now what?” she finally forced herself to ask.

  “Now we wait,” Bufford replied. “We wait and see if he has the strength to pull through. My guess is that he’ll be gone by morning.”

  Dianne hated the finality of his words. How could he so calmly dismiss her uncle’s chances at life? She looked to the doorway where Koko stood watching. She’d been obedient to keep clear of the doctor’s way.

  “Can we move him back to his bed now?” Dianne asked, turning away from her aunt.

  “By all means. Make him as comfortable as possible.”

  The cowboys were summoned again, and Bram was moved to the makeshift bedroom in the front parlor. Dianne’s back ached and she stretched, suddenly realizing her apron was stained with blood. Uncle Bram’s blood.

  She felt weak-kneed. Lord, she prayed, we need a miracle. We need your healing touch on my uncle. Oh, God, we all need him so much. Please help us—please don’t take him.

  Dianne hastened to clean up the room and herself. She peeled off the blood-stained apron only to realize blood had soaked through to her dress. She quickly found a clean apron and pulled it on to hide the stains lest they upset her aunt.

  Working quickly, Dianne managed to take care of most of the mess before Koko entered the room.

  “I hate having that man in our home,” Koko said while Bufford was outside cleaning up. Dianne knew, because of the lateness of the hour and the fact that Bram would most likely need further care, they would have to offer him a place to stay for the night.

  “I know,” she whispered, trying to offer Koko a sympathetic tone, “but we’ll have to give him a room.”

  Koko’s expression hardened. “Let him sleep in the barn.”

  Dianne reached out to touch her aunt. “I would, but we both know he needs to be close to B
ram.”

  “His heart is foul—filled with hate.”

  Dianne knew the truth of Koko’s words. “Still, he’s all Uncle Bram has this side of the Lord. We can’t possibly know how to best help him. We could never have removed that leg on our own. Maybe God brought him here for the purpose of teaching him about tolerance.”

  “I’ve seen many tolerant men who still have no love—no compassion in their hearts.” Koko moved away and picked up the last of the bloody linens. “Dr. Bufford is a man whose past has given him a black spirit. He wouldn’t have helped Bram had it not been for you. If I’d gone after his help, he would have let my husband die.”

  “Perhaps,” Dianne replied, knowing her aunt was probably right. “But the important thing is that he did come and he didn’t just let him die. Maybe God will soften his heart as he sees how much love we share here in our home.”

  Koko nodded but said nothing more. Her expression made it clear to Dianne that she found the idea hard to believe. In truth, Dianne knew that men who held as much contempt for others as Dr. Bufford seemed to were not easily persuaded.

  Dianne heard Jamie’s cries before she saw Faith appear in the kitchen, carrying the boy. “I want to see Papa.” Dianne hurried to wash her hands, making sure there was no blood visible to frighten the child.

  “I couldn’t calm him,” Faith announced.

  Koko went to her son and took him in her arms. “Did you catch a bear while you were gone?”

  Jamie shook his head. His large dark eyes seemed to widen at the question. “No bears. No bears here.”

  Koko nodded. “Good. We don’t want any more bears.”

  “Want Papa,” the boy insisted.

  Koko walked with her son to the front parlor. Dianne followed quietly behind, hoping she might offer some solace. “Your papa is sleeping, Jamie. He’s very tired.”

  “Papa hurt.” Jamie pointed to where his father slept.

  “Yes,” Koko said softly. “Papa is hurt.”

  “Wake up, Papa. Wake up,” Jamie called. He looked to his mother. “He sleeping.”

  Koko bit her lower lip as tears filled her eyes. Dianne wished she might offer comfort to them both. “Yes, he is sleeping, Jamie And sleep will help him feel better.”

  “We play later?” Jamie asked.

  Dianne looked at her unconscious uncle and remembered the doctor’s negative prognosis. “Maybe,” she finally whispered. “Right now we need to pray for your papa and ask God to make him well so that he can play with you soon.”

  Jamie put his pudgy hands together. “I pray. I pray good. Thank you, God, for the food.”

  Dianne smiled and even Koko seemed to brighten at this. She tousled her son’s hair, then handed him to Dianne. “Why don’t you go pray with Jamie while I take care of things here.”

  Dianne nodded and pulled Jamie into her arms. “So what else should we tell God?” she asked as they walked back to the kitchen, where Faith waited.

  Jamie looked into her eyes with such wonder and hope. “Make Papa not sick.”

  Dianne drew in a deep breath and caught Faith’s loving gaze. “Yes,” Dianne said. “Make him not sick anymore.”

  Dianne felt that she’d barely drifted off to sleep when Koko roused her. “Come quickly. Bram is dying.”

  For a moment, Dianne couldn’t remember what had happened. What does she mean, Bram is dying? Why should he— Then the memories returned. Dianne shot straight up. “I’ll be right there.” She slipped from the bed and pulled on her heavy robe.

  Why, Lord? Why must he die? She’d already reconciled herself to the fact that her uncle would never lead the same productive, active life. She’d even acknowledged that he’d be depressed at the loss of his leg—maybe even angry. But at least she had hoped he’d be alive to enjoy his son and daughter. She could easily help with the ranch, even hire more men to work in Bram’s place, but she could never take his place in the hearts of his wife and children.

  “Please, God,” she whispered as she hurried to the parlor “Please help us now. Please let Uncle Bram make it through this dark hour.”

  She entered the parlor as Koko knelt down beside the bed “I’ve sent for the doctor, but I know he won’t be able to help.”

  “Nonsense. You don’t know that. He might have some way of making things better,” Dianne encouraged.

  “No,” Koko said sadly. “He’s not going to live, Dianne. You must tell him good-bye.”

  Dianne looked at her aunt for a moment. The woman wasn’t all that much older than she was, only eight years senior to Dianne’s twenty-three years. How could she possibly know this was the end of Bram’s life?

  “Koko?”

  “His breathing is shallow. He’s losing this battle, Dianne. We have to let him go.” Koko was surprising calm. She lovingly stroked her husband’s hand. “We can’t keep him—he wants to go.”

  Dianne sat down beside her uncle’s bed and drew his hand to her lips. “I love him so much. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.”

  Koko nodded. “I don’t want to say good-bye either, but it’s best this way. He never would have been happy without his leg He would have withered and died a slow death if he recovered. He would have grown bitter . . . sad. We wouldn’t want him that way.”

  Dianne felt tears slip down her cheeks. The droplets fell upon her uncle’s hand. “Oh, Uncle Bram, I love you. You gave me hope when I had nothing left. You helped me to learn about my new life here in Montana. You gave me a home and loved me.” Thoughts of Cole flickered through Dianne’s thoughts. How she wished he were here to comfort her and help her endure this bleak moment.

  Dianne kissed her uncle’s still hand again. “I don’t want to let you go, but I know God loves you more than even I do. I can give you to Him. I can let you go—as long as I know it’s to Him you go.”

  Dr. Bufford came sleepily into the room. “So he’s passing?” Dianne let go of her uncle and got to her feet. “Can you save him?”

  The doctor went to the bed, listened to Bram’s heart, checked his breathing, and shook his head. “The night’s always worse, but this night will be his last. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

  Dianne nodded. “We’ll let you have a few moments alone,” she said to Koko. Her aunt said nothing.

  “Please come with me, Dr. Bufford. I’d imagine there’s still some coffee on the stove.”

  “No thank you,” the man said through a yawn. “I’ve done all that I can. I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.” He moved without any suggestion of emotion or further interest.

  Dianne watched him disappear and shook her head. A man was dying, and the only doctor within twenty miles had absolutely no consideration for the loss this family was about to endure.

  Bufford stopped at the door. “I know you believe me to lack compassion.” He turned and his icy blue-eyed gaze seemed to pierce through to her soul. “And perhaps I do. I saw a lot of men die on the battlefield—a lot of good men who died for senseless reasons. Waste makes me angry and steals away any compassion that I might otherwise exude. Your uncle’s death is a tremendous waste—another good man’s life is forfeited. I’m sorry for your loss, but I have no desire to make myself a part of it.”

  He left with that, and his words echoed in Dianne’s head. How very calm and collected he was, she thought. He managed 8 to systematically put aside his emotion and turn aside his feelings.

  I wish I could do that so easily. Dianne shook her head. No, she didn’t really want that. She didn’t want to stop feeling or having consideration for those around her. Not when the reasoning was the mere protection of her own heart.

  Waiting as long as she could, Dianne slowly made her way back to the parlor.

  “Oh, my heart. My love,” Koko whispered.

  Dianne paused in the doorway and sighed. She could remember Uncle Bram urging her to promise to take care of Koko and the children. The world would never understand the love this family held for one another. Color would blind them— intolerance
would leave them without feeling for Koko and her children’s loss.

  Bram drew a few shallow, ragged breaths, and then silence filled the room. It seemed so sudden—so final. Dianne waited, wondering if he might yet find the strength to go on, but there was no other sound from the loving giant of a man.

  Koko lay across her husband and sobbed softly. He was gone. Just like that—her uncle’s life had ended.

  Walking from the room, Dianne made her way outside. The stars overhead offered brilliant beacons of light. The night greeted her in absolute stillness. Looking back at the ranch house—the dream of her uncle, not yet completed—Dianne suddenly realized that all she could see now belonged to her.

  “I want to make certain my family is provided for, and you are the only way to ensure that,” Bram had told her long ago. He had explained that Indians couldn’t be landowners, so he couldn’t will the ranch to Koko. He had petitioned Dianne to take on the ranch and make a home for his family for as long as they needed one. She had agreed, and now the realization of such a matter coming full circle was almost more than she could comprehend. The Diamond V belonged to her—every horse, every building, the entire herd. They were hers. No one could challenge her if she decided to up and sell the entire thing. No one could stand in her way should she decide to put an end to the cattle business and take up farming. It was all up to her now.

  Dianne trembled from the very thought of such responsibility. When she’d agreed to this arrangement, she’d never believed it would ever occur. Bram was supposed to live for a long, long time. He was supposed to be here with them—to raise his children— to teach Jamie how to hunt and fish and ranch.

  Now Jamie would grow up without a father. No one would be there for him in the same way that Bram would have been. She knew what it was to lose a father—knew the pain and empty place it made in your heart.

  “But I was sixteen,” she murmured. “I was old enough to understand that accidents happen. I have my memories of Papa, and no one can take those from me.”

  Would Jamie remember anything about his father? Would he recall the way his father put him atop his shoulders so the little boy could be a giant? Would Jamie have memories of his father wrestling with him in front of the fire, tickling him and tossing him high in the air as they played?