“It’s not fair,” she whispered, knowing there was no one to hear. No one but God, and at this moment Dianne wondered seriously if He might be sleeping.
CHAPTER 12
DIANNE RODE ALONG THE WESTERN PERIMETER OF THE ranch, still unable to believe that Bram was truly gone. She thought of all the losses in her life, Cole included, for she had no idea when he might return—or if. Now her uncle’s funeral loomed and nothing seemed right.
It was hard to remember those who’d gone before her. When she’d been a little girl and her grandparents had died, she had felt the loss deeply, but nothing compared to the loss of her father, sisters, and mother. She couldn’t even be sure Trenton, her oldest brother, was still alive. She hadn’t heard from him in a long, long while.
Dianne had ridden Dolly to the top of the hill overlooking the main part of the ranch. There were two large barns, a small cabin used for supplies, several lean-tos, a blacksmith shop and cabin for Malachi and Faith, the bunkhouse, multiple corrals and pens, the old cabin home, and the partially finished dream house Bram had started earlier in the year.
“I’ll see to it that the house is finished, Uncle Bram. I know what it meant to you.”
Dolly shifted, as if eager to get back to the other horses Dianne patted the buckskin mare. They’d shared all of the losses coming west. Now they were sharing yet another death.
“How can he be gone, Dolly? How can we go on without him here?”
The chilled morning wind picked up and blew cold down from the snow-capped mountains. Gus and the boys would take the cattle north after the funeral. There was no time to waste, and she prayed they hadn’t delayed too long.
Dianne saw Faith step outside her cabin and put her hand to her forehead to shield the sun. She looked directly to the hill where Dianne sat, then waved. Dianne really didn’t feel like company, so she waved back but turned Dolly to continue her ride.
I’m more confused now than I’ve ever been, she had to admit. It would be impossible to sort through the affairs in one conversation with Faith. And though her uncle’s passing consumed her, Dianne couldn’t help but think of Cole. Sometimes she felt convinced that he’d changed his mind and moved on—that somewhere between Cheyenne and Virginia City, Cole had met another woman.
Images of him with someone else, however, were always blurred by the very real possibility that some sort of calamity had befallen her fiance . Cole had told her, after all, of the ongoing bouts of sickness and bad weather. Then, too, there were the Indian troubles on the plains. Zane had written her short notes of the conflicts and skirmishes but never in any real detail. No doubt he thought her in need of protection from the truth, when in fact her own imagination was worse than anything Zane could have written. Then, too, the newspapers, when they could be had, were filled with horror stories given in first-person accounts from travelers who’d been assaulted by the “heathen nations.”
Just a few years back there had been very graphic stories told about the Fetterman Massacre. Some eighty soldiers went out from their fort to protect woodcutters from Red Cloud and his Cheyenne warriors. Instead, Red Cloud and his men annihilated the entire group—and the things he and his men had done to the soldiers couldn’t even be described without crossing the boundaries of propriety. Had Cole’s wagon train met up with Red Cloud and the Cheyenne?
“Miz Dianne!” someone called from the next hill. It was Gus Yegen, her uncle’s foreman. Her foreman.
She reined back and waited for the man to come to her. Squaring her shoulders, she tried hard to be strong and unemotional. Gus wouldn’t appreciate a teary-eyed female, she surmised.
Gus crossed the small valley between them at a gallop, then slowed to a trot and finally a walk for the last twenty feet or so. “I was hoping to find you. Levi said you’d headed up this way.”
“I needed the solitude,” she admitted. “Sometimes there just seem to be too many folks all together in one place.”
Gus pushed back his hat and smiled, causing his gray mustache to lift slightly at the sides. “I reckon I can understand that. I always appreciate ridin’ for strays just to enjoy the quiet.”
Dianne realized quickly that she had no desire for small talk. Perhaps God had sent Gus her way because he was the very man she needed to talk to.
“I feel lost, Gus.”
He sobered. “I figured you might. I just want you to know that I’ll be here to help. It ain’t the same, I know. I ain’t quite ever felt a death like this one. My folks died when I was young, so I don’t recollect much about it. I don’t let myself get too close to anyone else. Bram just sort of imposed himself on me.” Gus grinned. “But in a good way.”
“Seems I’ve done nothing but lose people all my life. At least 8 all of my adult life.” She looked Gus in the eye. “What do we do now? I need to know.”
Gus nodded and shifted in the saddle. “Well, we go on with life, Miz Dianne. Bram would be the first to tell you that. We have six hundred head of cattle that need to be dealt with ’fore winter sets in. We’ve got a lot of good folk who want to know that their needs will be provided for. Can you be strong enough to bear that?”
Dianne drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to make Uncle Bram proud. I know what’s expected of me in some ways, but in other ways I’m completely confused. You’ll have to teach me—help me to learn.”
“Miz Dianne, you’ve been working on this ranch since you showed up. You know more’n you give yourself credit for.”
“Maybe so, but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel like there are so many holes in my education.”
Gus chuckled. “Guess we’ve all felt that way at one time or ’nother. I think I’d be more afraid of a man—or woman, for that matter—who thought he knew everything about everything. I reckon either way, you know more than most. Not only that, but you have the respect of the men. You ain’t some citified lady with all your doodads and geegaws, having to have things just a certain way. Why, I’ve seen you standing up to your—up to your—” Gus’s face reddened—“well, up to your boots in . . .” He stopped again and shook his head. “Never mind. You know full well what you were standin’ in.”
Dianne laughed. It was the first time she’d felt like laughing in days. Only Jamie’s sweet spirit had kept her from complete despair, and now Gus’s comical embarrassment was a blessed relief.
“Yes, I know what I’ve stepped in and stood in. Around here, there’s plenty of piles to choose from.”
“Well, the point is, Miz Dianne, you ain’t afraid to get your hands dirty and work alongside the rest of us. You wouldn’t have had to. You could’ve showed up with your city upbringin’ and refused to be much good to anyone. You could’ve whined and complained. Believe me, I’ve seen many a lady dealt a hand like this and not be able to handle it.”
“But I love it here. I love the work and the animals. I love the solitude.” Dianne thought of all the people who’d come to live on the ranch since she’d first arrived. “I have good friends here . . . and . . . Cole.”
“I know you’re worried about him and rightly so. It ain’t a good time to be traveling through Indian territory. I won’t lie and tell you I ain’t got my own concerns.”
Dianne looked at the older man and felt a sense of relief in his honesty. “I appreciate that, Gus. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know things are grim. I know Cole should have been back here weeks ago. All I can do is pray and hope for the best.”
“Well, I know for a fact it ain’t for any good reason that boy ain’t here yet. He let his honor separate you two, but he’s given good time to his pa. He’s met any obligation there. Now he needs to be here honoring his promise to you. I’m guessin’ that something mighty important is delayin’ him.”
Dianne looked at Gus long and hard. “But you haven’t heard anything?”
“No, ma’am. One of the boys rode back from Virginia City and said there was some talk about Indian troubles along the Yellowstone and south. That’s about
all I know.”
Dianne nodded. “Morgan’s down that way as well. Doesn’t matter how much I care about folks, I can’t control their lives or keep them safe from harm.” She smiled. “Guess I need to realize someone bigger than me is in charge.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Gus answered, matching her smile.
“Ben and Charity are due back before long. Charity wrote to Levi nearly a month ago to say they were coming. I figured they’d be here by now. It would be nice to have a pastor do Uncle Bram’s funeral proper-like.”
“I wouldn’t worry. He can always speak over the grave later on—if need be.”
Dianne nodded. Most folks out here were buried without the luxury of a preacher, but she had hoped it would be different for Uncle Bram. Besides, she longed for Charity’s strength to see her through this.
Dianne sighed. “Well, I’ll need to go for supplies before we get snowed in. I can probably head out tomorrow after the funeral. Can you spare me a couple of trustworthy men?”
“You betcha. I figured to leave you Levi and Gabe. Those two would give their lives for you any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
Dianne nodded. She knew the truth of Gus’s words “They’re good men. I’d give my life for them as well.”
“See, that’s what makes you a good ranch owner. You love your people—even your cowhands. You care about the land and the stock. There ain’t a horse on the place that you don’t know from muzzle to tail—you’ve worked with most of ’em at one point or another.”
Dianne drew a deep breath. Gus’s confidence in her was finally starting to seep in. It strengthened her to hear this weathered cowhand tell her that she held his respect.
“You’ll stay with us, won’t you, Gus?”
“I wouldn’t think of livin’ or workin’ anywhere else, Miz Dianne. Fact is, I reckon I figure to settle here permanently—die here too.”
Dianne nodded. “Just don’t make it too soon, Gus. I need you.”
“Now, don’t you go frettin’, little lady. I got no plans to head to that big roundup yonder. I’m here to help you make this the best ranch in all of the territory. Hard times may yet be a-comin’, but we’ll face ’em together and you’ll see. This big sky country is gonna embrace you and make you a part of all you see.”
Dianne gazed around her at the mountains to the east and the river valley below. I’m already a part of it all, she realized. Montana is already a part of me.
Cole forced himself to keep moving. The wind howled in his ears—or maybe he was hearing the flow of his own blood. Either way, the sound was maddening. Cole longed for quiet, but there was none to be had.
He had no idea how long he’d been on the trail. He would walk until he could walk no farther, then collapse and crawl to whatever shelter he could find. His head seemed somewhat clearer after each rest, and his wounds didn’t feel nearly as bad. The only problem was, as his mind began to reason his situation and understand it in full, Cole only managed to feel more anxious. He couldn’t help but remember all the times he’d read of settlers or travelers being killed by one thing or another. After all, the wilderness was not the place for the poorly equipped, and Cole definitely fit that category.
“I just wish I had a gun or even a knife,” he told himself. But wishing it didn’t make it so.
Stumbling in the fading light, Cole lifted his gaze and started at a dark form in the distance. What was it? Animal? Indian?
He shook his head and continued his slow pace toward the object. The shape grew larger and Cole had to blink several times to allow himself to believe the truth of it. It looked to be an abandoned cabin. Probably deserted by some trapper who grew weary of battling the elements and the Indians, Cole surmised.
He pressed on, hurrying in spite of his complete exhaustion and weakness from lack of food. The cabin looked to be no bigger than an oversized room, but to Cole it might as well have been a mansion. At least he’d have decent shelter tonight and maybe even a fire. The thoughts of such comfort motivated him to continue.
The door wasn’t much—it barely hung on its sorry excuse for hinges. Cole pushed the barrier back and peered into the darkened room. “Hello?” he called out, just in case there might be a resident.
No one replied.
Entering, Cole gave his eyes a chance to adjust to the dark. There wasn’t much of anything in the room, but it didn’t matter. Cole closed the door behind him and collapsed. Maybe tomorrow he’d have the energy to explore the cabin’s full potential.
They buried Bram the next day, but a storm came upon them quickly so there was no time for any real service. The storm also delayed Dianne’s trip to town for supplies and the cattle being moved north. With the clearing of the skies came the arrival of Ben and Charity Hammond. Dianne fell into Charity’s arms, sobbing out her sorrows and trying her best to explain their misery while Ben listened in.
Before Dianne knew it, Reverend Hammond gathered them all together at the gravesite for a proper funeral. His soft-spoken manner put them all at ease. Dianne didn’t know if it mattered to Koko or not, but she liked the idea of having her uncle buried properly, with an honest-to-goodness pastor to speak the final words.
“We are on this earth but a short time,” the pastor told them in conclusion. “A mist—a vapor. This life is temporary—the brief stopping place before eternity. Bram Vandyke was a man of honor, as I hear it told. He loved the good Lord, served his fellow man faithfully, and cherished his wife and children.
“In the second book of Corinthians, chapter four, we read, ‘While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.’ As it’s been told to me, Bram Vandyke put his eyes on the eternal when the only image he could see was given in the Holy Word. Now he sees in full what the Lord only speaks of in Scripture. Someday we’ll all behold the Lord—we’ll all give an accounting for our words and deeds. It seems to me that Bram had no need to fear that accounting.
“As for those of us gathered here today, we need to look beyond this temporal situation. We need to remember that this world is only a stopping-over place—a place that cannot hold us—for one day we will follow Brother Bram and join him in the eternal. Let us put our eyes on the eternal rather than this grave.”
Dianne appreciated Reverend Hammond’s words. They offered comfort in a way that nothing else could. It was easy to forget just how momentary the sorrows of this earth would be. When the brief service was over, Dianne thought about how very much Bram would have approved of this gathering.
Suddenly Jamie cried out, startling them all. “I want my papa!”
Koko handed Susannah to Dianne and lifted her son. “James, your papa had to go away. He has to be with God.”
“But I want to play with Papa.” He struggled in his mother’s arms, and his tears made Dianne’s own resolve slip away. She nuzzled the baby’s neck to avoid dealing with the weeping boy.
Koko whispered softly to her son, and while Jamie continued to cry, he said nothing more.
I don’t want to leave him here either, Dianne thought. I want to wake up and find this is all a horrible dream. I want to walk out into the kitchen and find Uncle Bram pouring himself a cup of coffee. Just like he did every morning. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. It would never happen again.
This is but a fleeting moment. Just as Ben said. It will pass and we will survive. We will live beyond our tears and pain.
Dianne raised her face and met Gus’s compassionate gaze from across the grave. He thinks I’m strong, but I’m not. Dianne sighed. She looked at the others; their eyes were fixed on her, as if watching her for direction. They all think I’m so strong—so capable. How could she ever manage to convince them that she had nothing left to give? Cole had taken her heart and hopes, and Bram had taken her last connection to her parents—especially her mother.
How can I be strong now?
Cole awoke
when light filtered in between the large holes in the wall. He forced his body to respond and got to his feet. Hunger overwhelmed him and pain gnawed at his stomach, back, chest, and head like a hundred tiny animals feasting upon his flesh.
The cabin was sparse. Someone had left a stump as a chair and a crude table, fashioned from four bark-laden logs and an odd assortment of branches. Cole noted an old crate nailed to the wall of the cabin and stepped closer to see what had been left behind. There wasn’t much that looked useful. An open tin can held several matches, a few rusty nails, and a stub of a pencil. Cole actually rejoiced over the pencil more than anything else. He still had his journal tucked safely inside his boot. He could write to Dianne and at least record his ordeal. That way if he died . . .
Death had so long dogged his steps that Cole no longer shuddered at the prospect.
“If I die, I die. But at least I might let Dianne know what happened and hope that someone will take my words to her . . . someday.”
CHAPTER 13
THE TRIP TO TOWN DID NOTHING TO BOLSTER DIANNE’S spirits. Everything appeared dingy and worn-out. There were more buildings and houses than there were the last time she was in town, but the people seemed caught off guard somehow— almost as if the momentum for civilization had overwhelmed them. There were false-front buildings that pretended to be something more than they were, as well as advertisements boasting all the comforts that could be had in large eastern cities. Somehow Dianne doubted the truth of such claims; after all, they were stuck out here well away from any real connection to the amenities of the East. Of course, there was the transcontinental railroad, completed just the previous year. That now brought goods into Corinne on a regular basis, and the town that had suffered such a poor reputation during the construction of the railroad now achieved a little more recognition and respect.
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