Tracie Peterson - [Heirs of Montana 04]

by The Hope Within

  Jamie knew her words were true, but he’d been harboring feelings of frustration toward God for longer than he wanted to admit. “It’s not the same.”

  His mother gently touched his face. “No, it’s not. I miss your father more than I can say. I loved him so much. We were so happy here.”

  Hearing her sadness, Jamie shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just … well … sometimes things are hard and I feel angry.”

  “But God isn’t the enemy here. Blame the laws of the land or blame the prejudices of people, but don’t blame God. You must remember we are people who make mistakes and bear those consequences. I loved your father very much, but should I have forsaken that love because of my heritage? Saved you and your sister the possibility of being Blackfoot?”

  “No!” It hurt something fierce, but he refused to back down. “I don’t regret being Blackfoot, and I wouldn’t have anyone else for my mother.”

  “Then you mustn’t grieve over the way things have turned out. Part of your frustration with God is because of my choice to marry a white man. You have to think these things through and reason them out so that you don’t make poor choices. My decision to marry your father was a good one, motivated by love. But again, there was a price to pay. For him. For me. For you and Susannah.”

  “And for Elsa, if her feelings turn out to be something more than friendship,” he murmured.

  She nodded. “That’s very true. But let her make the decision as to whether or not the price is too high to pay. I don’t regret my choices or the price. Talk to Elsa. Tell her about your heritage and about the problems that have come from being part Blackfoot.”

  Jamie thought for a moment. “I will. It’s probably best to do that early on. That way, if there isn’t any interest, neither of us will get hurt.”

  Koko leaned down and kissed her son on the head, opposite his wound. “It’s too late for that,” she mused. “I’m certain you’ve already lost your heart.”

  “Your brother is so hard to figure out sometimes,” Elsa told Susannah as they hung clothes on the line.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Elsa looked at the beautiful young woman. She was so tiny and pretty. Elsa felt like a clumsy ox next to Susannah. How could Elsa expect a sixteen-year-old girl to understand these feelings? “Well, sometimes he seems to want me close by,” Elsa began, feeling quite awkward. “Other times he seems unhappy—even annoyed that I’ve come into the room.”

  “I think he’s still simply trying to recover,” Susannah said. She looked up from the clothes basket and asked, “Are you ready to help me with this sheet?”

  Elsa nodded and took up one end of the piece while Susannah grabbed the other. Together they hung the sheet across the line and pinned it in place.

  “I hope he doesn’t hate me for my part in his accident.” Elsa sighed. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt. He’s such a nice person too.”

  Susannah laughed. “You didn’t think so when you first came here.”

  Elsa had to smile. “No, I suppose I didn’t. He seemed so difficult, like he didn’t think I was good enough to be here because I was a Lawrence.”

  Susannah shook her head and picked up the basket to move down the line. “He probably felt much more inadequate because he has Indian blood and you don’t.”

  This snapped Elsa out of her moody thoughts. “Has it really been a problem for you? You don’t even look Indian. Neither one of you.”

  Susannah said nothing for a moment. She put the basket down and lifted out a pair of Jamie’s pants. “It doesn’t matter what you look like sometimes, but rather what people know about you—about your past. Folks in these parts knew my father and mother. They know my mother is half Blackfoot. Therefore, they know her children are part Blackfoot as well.”

  “But that’s hardly a reason to punish. It’s not like you’re a full-blooded Indian.”

  Susannah looked at her oddly. “And if I were, would you hate me then?”

  Elsa realized what she’d said. “I never thought of it that way. I mean … well … you have to understand how I was brought up. My mother and father hated Indians because of the threat and the troubles they’d seen. My father used to tell stories about entire settlements being burned out because angry Indians wanted to see the whites put off the land.”

  “I’ve heard stories from Uncle George that tell of whites murdering Indians for the same reason.”

  Elsa felt troubled in her spirit. “It shouldn’t matter, should it? The blood, I mean. Whether you’re part or full-blooded Indian, it shouldn’t matter.”

  Susannah looked at her with great compassion. “It shouldn’t, but it does. Mama said that the blood of Jesus should be the only blood we concern ourselves with, but it will probably be a very long time before most white people see it that way.”

  Elsa felt she’d received a real education that morning. In her heart, she knew Koko and George, though of Blackfoot heritage, to be wonderful people. On the other hand, she knew her own brothers, Jerrod and Roy, to be horrible people—deceptive and cheating. They were as white as the day was long. There wasn’t any chance of Indian blood tainting their lineage. But when it came down to a matter of whom Elsa would rather be with, she could easily say that Koko and George were the better choice.

  “Susannah, I’m sorry if anything I’ve said offended you,” Elsa said, shaking her head slowly. “I’ve been raised by people who cared only for themselves. I feel I’m learning everything anew.”

  Susannah came to her and hugged her for a brief moment. “At least you’re willing to learn.”

  Several nights after speaking with his mother, the time to talk with Elsa presented itself before Jamie even realized what had happened. Susannah, suffering from a cold, had gone to bed early and Uncle George and his mother were busy with expense records, sequestered away in the kitchen. That allowed Jamie and Elsa to sit at the far side of the house in front of the fire.

  “How’s your head?” Elsa asked, toying with a cup of tea.

  “It’s better. Doesn’t hurt as much when I’m up and around.”

  “I still feel so bad. I’m really sorry, Jamie. I know I’ve said that before, but I just can’t shake my guilt.”

  He smiled. “You’re forgiven. Don’t give it another thought.” She put the tea aside and looked deep into Jamie’s eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat as she leaned closer.

  “I know I wasn’t very nice when I first came here. I have to be honest with you: I was terrified. I’d heard horrible things about your family.”

  “My family?”

  “I’m afraid so. My father was not very kind about the fact that your mother was part Indian. He said you were savages, all of you. That he intended to see you all on the reservation. Luckily, he got caught up in other matters, namely buying up the valley and everyone else’s herds.”

  “I had no idea.” Jamie’s heart sank. If she was raised to despise them because they were of Indian blood, what hope could there be to share his heart with her?

  “Your mother has been talking to me about God,” Elsa continued. “I didn’t understand a lot of things. Joshua had helped me to know a bit about Jesus, and Mara has such a strong faith, but I didn’t understand.”

  “I know what you mean. My mother’s faith has always been rather intimidating. She talks about Jesus as though He were in the next room.”

  Elsa laughed. “Exactly. She has a friendship with God that I cannot understand.”

  “Me either, but I envy it.”

  “Yes!” she practically gasped. “Me too.”

  They fell silent for several moments, and all Jamie could think of was how to turn the subject back to his heritage. He wanted to know—needed to know—how Elsa felt now.

  “I hope you aren’t still afraid of being here,” he barely breathed. He held her gaze, searching for the truth in her eyes.

  “Oh no, I’m not afraid. I feel the opposite of how I felt then. I’ve come to lov
e your mother. I hadn’t realized how much I missed my own mother until I came here. Your uncle is a fine man too.”

  “Despite the fact he’s a half-breed?”

  “Oh, Jamie, I don’t even care about that anymore. I’ve come to realize the color of a person’s skin, the ancestors they claim—none of that matters when it comes to the heart. Your sister helped me to see how my family’s beliefs were wrong. She and I talked the other day, and I know now I have a great deal to learn. I’m just not all that sure where to start.”

  He reached over and touched her hand. She didn’t flinch or pull away; in fact, her expression warmed and he felt her approval immediately.

  “Maybe we could read the Bible together,” he said, feeling at a loss for words. “Maybe if we did that every night, we’d find the same kind of faith that Ma has. Maybe we would both learn the things we need to know.”

  Elsa turned her hand to clasp his. “I’d like that, Jamie. I’d like it very much.”

  He felt rather sheepish. “I have to admit, I have a long ways to go until I understand why things happen the way they do. I’ve been bitter most all my life because of my father’s death and inability to leave me the ranch. I’ve often wondered why, if God was the creator of the universe and in control of everything, He couldn’t make this one thing right—for me.”

  “I can well understand that. You know, I don’t have Indian blood, but I have Lawrence blood. And around these parts, that’s sometimes seen as being even worse.”

  Jamie looked at her for a moment and considered her words. He’d never thought of it quite that way. He’d been angry when the daughter of his enemy had come to stay with them, but now he felt entirely different. “You know, we have a lot in common.”

  She smiled and looked at her hands. “I think so too.”

  “Maybe we can help each other more than we realize.”

  CHAPTER 17

  SHE’S LEAVING. SHE’S TAKING OUR CHILDREN AND RETURNING to Montana, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Cole kept hearing her words over and over in his head. Kept feeling them slice into his heart.

  I could go with her—with them.

  “But how can I leave Ma to fend for herself? Especially now with her sprained wrist and bruised hip?”

  Cole ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to pull his hair out by the roots as the frustration of the moment washed over him again and again. How can she say she loves me—yet leave me?

  Cole had wrestled with the situation ever since the incident in which his mother had gotten hurt. He didn’t really believe Dianne had pushed her, even though from where he stood, it looked as if she’d done the deed. John and Lia had both told him what had happened. He hated himself for not letting Dianne have her say when she wanted to, because now she wasn’t talking at all. All that remained between them was a look of betrayal in her eyes that pierced him to the core of his being.

  “Pa?”

  Luke stood at the doorway looking almost afraid. Had his own son come to fear him? To despise him?

  “What is it, Luke?”

  “Why do you hate us?”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t hate you. Did somebody tell you that?

  Luke shook his head and lowered his gaze. “No, sir.”

  “Then why would you say such a thing?”

  “Well, you never talk to us no more. You don’t read us stories from the Bible like you used to. You never come tell us goodnight.”

  Cole was instantly convicted. He was guilty on all accounts. “Son, I’ve just been busy. It certainly doesn’t mean I hate you.”

  “Mama said you loved us, but you always used to tell me that when you loved somebody you made time for them. That’s why you spent time with us, you said. Now you don’t spend any time with us, so I figured—”

  “Come here, Luke,” Cole interrupted.

  Luke came across the room and looked up apprehensively. “Yes, sir?”

  “Son, you’ll be eleven in December. You’re old enough to understand that sometimes folks have to sacrifice what’s important to them so that they can meet the needs of other people. Your grandmother is sad and she needs me. She’s heartbroken over the death of her husband. She feels alone and afraid.”

  “Mama feels alone too. And she cries all the time, so I know she’s sad,” Luke said softly. “We need you as much as Grandma does.”

  Cole knew his son’s words were true, but there were no easy answers. No way to resolve this without hurting someone. His wife and children were his first responsibility, but they were all very capable, while his mother was aging and not at all able to tend to the needs of a big farm.

  He heard the wagon outside and knew that Cordelia or Laurel had come to care for their mother. This had become a daily event, and Cole hated it because they always insisted on berating him for Dianne’s actions.

  “Son, my sister has come and I need to tend to the buggy. We can talk about this some more later on.”

  He nodded. “Mama says we’re going home. I sure hope you’ll be coming with us.” He waited, as if hoping to hear Cole say something in response, but in truth there were no words Cole could offer his son. Luke’s expression fell and his shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly as he left the room. He knows the truth, Cole thought. He knows I’m staying here. But why am I staying?

  Cole waited until Luke had gone before heading outside. He wasn’t at all happy to have to deal with whatever his sister might say. Both Cordelia and Laurel believed that Dianne was a threat to their mother and had asked on more than one occasion for her to be removed from the house. Cole had already explained that Dianne intended to leave, but she’d taken ill the day after the accident and had been unable to go. At least until today. Dianne seemed recovered now and had spent the entire morning washing and packing.

  His sisters had told him that her illness was God’s punishment for her meanness to their mother, but Cole didn’t believe that. Dianne was the light of his life. Her kindness and love had been a comfort to him through all sorts of trials and hardships.

  “How can I let her leave without me?” he murmured, heading to the door to take care of the buggy for his sister.

  But how can I leave Mother without help—without at least imposing some form of resolution on her regarding the farm?

  The questions would not let him be. Neither would they be easily resolved.

  To Cole’s surprise both Cordelia and Laurel were in the buggy. They were dressed in their city finery, looking for all the world as though they were heading out to a social function instead of visiting their ailing mother.

  “We have to talk,” Cordelia demanded.

  “Yes, Cole. We have to talk.”

  “Well, talk then.” Cole’s irritation was evident as he helped them from the buggy. He knew they would simply harangue him again about Dianne and the incident.

  “We do not feel that Mother is safe. If Dianne isn’t well enough to travel, then put her in a hotel,” Cordelia demanded.

  “I suppose we could move to a hotel,” Cole said, knowing it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

  “We don’t want you to move to a hotel. Just your children and Dianne. Mother was quite vexed and hurt by Lia’s thievery.”

  “And,” Laurel picked up where Cordelia left off, “by the boys’ rowdiness and constant noise.”

  “Then of course,” Cordelia continued, “Mother is terrified that Dianne will do her harm while she’s unable to defend herself.”

  “Stop.” He put as much force into the word as he could muster. Both his sisters seemed taken aback, but they said nothing. “Stop speaking against my wife in such a manner. She may not always do or say the things you’d like, but she has tried to get along with everyone. I can’t say that you’ve done the same with her.”

  “Cole, you mustn’t be deceived by her,” Cordelia said, reaching out to take hold of him. “She isn’t the good woman you think. She’s had plenty to say behind your back. She’s not at all happy with you
for keeping her from her beloved ranch, and she’s not afraid to speak out about it.”

  He tried to show no reaction whatsoever. He wasn’t sure if Dianne had spoken to them about the ranch and her life here. He couldn’t imagine his wife sharing such intimate thoughts with his sisters.

  “She isn’t happy here anyway. So let her go,” Laurel said firmly. “Stop trying to keep her here. She isn’t even being a proper wife to you.”

  “How would you know?”

  Laurel blushed. “Well … Mother … that is, she told us that you two weren’t even sharing the same room.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he replied. “Up until the day of Ma’s accident we were in the same room every night. I think you must have misunderstood. Even so, it’s none of your business.”

  “Cole, Mother needs you. Laurel and I are happy to do our part, but she doesn’t want to live in the city.”

  “If her health is so frail,” he said, remembering something Dianne had told him, “then surely the city is the perfect place for her.”

  Laurel and Cordelia exchanged a rather panic-stricken expression.

  Cordelia jumped in quickly. “She needs to be here on the farm. It’s important to her mental well-being. Even the doctor says so.”

  “Well, it is my farm now. I should be able to make decisions about who lives here and who doesn’t. I should be able to decide about hiring help and seeing to whatever else needs attention.”

  “You wouldn’t put Mother from her home, would you?” Cordelia gasped, putting her hand to her throat in a melodramatic manner.

  “I never implied that.” He looked at each of his sisters and shook his head. “There’s just no easy answer in this.” He climbed into the buggy and looked down at his sisters. “Will you be here long? Should I unhitch the horses?”

  “No,” Laurel said. “We have other appointments. You might as well know that we feel the need to speak to a lawyer on mother’s behalf. We’re not at all certain that charges shouldn’t be filed against Dianne for her actions. Perhaps she’s not entirely in control of her mental faculties. It might be best to let a doctor assess her and then tell us if she’s quite safe for others to be around.”