Tracie Peterson - [Heirs of Montana 04]

by The Hope Within

  “Now that’s too generous. The boy’s been thinking of coming out here anyway. He’s twenty-two and has been saving for five years while trying to figure out what he wanted to do. Let him pay his own way. It’ll make him appreciate it more. Pay him a decent wage and it’ll be fine by me.”

  “Will he need to live on my mother’s place or do you have room for him here?” Cole asked, knowing that his mother was going to resent the arrangement no matter what.

  “We’ve got plenty of room, and I doubt you could get Ruth to let him live anywhere else. He’ll be fine here. He can ride over at dawn each day and work at what needs to be tended, and then come home for dinner and help me. By evening he can go back and take care of anything else that needs to be done. Oh, and if your ma needs him to drive her into town or run errands for her, I’ll arrange for him to be free for that as well.”

  “Ralph, this sounds like the perfect solution. But don’t mention this to anyone yet. Except for your brother-in-law, of course. I need to break this to the family gentle-like. They know I plan to leave, but they also think they’ve somehow convinced me to stay.”

  Ralph nodded. “Your ma is a determined woman. I’ve seen her accomplish many things.”

  “That’s a very kind way of putting it,” Cole said, lifting his mug. “Here’s to a profitable and long-lasting partnership.”

  Ralph raised his mug. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Several days later, Cole thought the perfect opportunity had arisen to tell his mother about Ralph. She was in a very good mood and had even baked that morning. The cake she made was similar to the one Ruth Brewster had served, which was what gave Cole the thought to bring up the topic of the farm.

  “You know, I had a nice long talk with Ralph Brewster the other day,” Cole said, leaning against the back door, watching his mother frost the cake.

  “Oh? How’s he doing? How are Ruth and the children?”

  “Good. They’re all good. I told him how I’d need to be returning to Montana in the spring.”

  Mary Selby slammed down the crock of frosting she’d been holding. “Why would you tell him that? You know you don’t want to go back. You know you aren’t wanted in Montana.”

  “I don’t know any such thing,” Cole said. “And I wish you would stop saying that I don’t want to go back. Do you suppose if you say it often enough it will change my mind?”

  His mother narrowed her eyes. “You listen to me, Cole Selby. You listen to what’s good for you. That woman you married will do nothing but manipulate you and steal your life from you. You’re appreciated here and you have all that you could possibly want.”

  “I want my family, Ma. I wanted them when it was Luke’s birthday. I wanted them at Christmas, when no one else seemed to care that they were gone. I wanted to bring in the new year with them—not with my sisters’ spoiled and selfish girls—but with my boys and Lia. With Dianne.”

  “How dare you say your sisters’ girls are spoiled and selfish. They are your nieces and they adore you.”

  “They hardly speak two words to me,” Cole replied angrily. He strode across the room and stood directly in front of his mother. “You need to get this through your head now, Ma. You need to understand that I am going home come spring.”

  “This is your home now. You own it,” she said bitterly. “You are the selfish one if you consider leaving. I need someone here to run the farm. I won’t leave.”

  “I know you won’t, and that’s why I’ve asked Ralph to farm the land. His brother-in-law is going to come from Indiana to live with them, and he’s going to come over here and be your handyman. He’ll even drive you into town when you need him to.”

  Mary shook her head vigorously. “I won’t have a stranger living here!”

  Cole smiled. “He won’t be living here. He’ll live with Ralph and Ruth and come over every morning, then go home for dinner and work with Ralph. Then he’ll come back in the evenings. Like I said, if you need to go to town or have him drive you to church, Ralph said he’ll make provision for that.”

  Mary’s face turned beet red. Her expression contorted angrily. “How dare you make arrangements for me behind my back!”

  “This is my place now, Ma, as you’ve pointed out over and over. I have the right to make whatever provision I want. If you’re uncomfortable with it, then you’ll have to go live with Cordelia or Laurel, because I intend to make a deal with Ralph that will allow him to buy the place so long as he allows you to live here as long as you like.”

  “This is all about her,” Mary spewed. “That horrible little wife of yours. She’s poisoned you against me. Well, I won’t have it. You’ll rethink this and stay with me. I’m your mother and you owe me this.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  His mother seemed momentarily at a loss for words. Then she seemed to calm before his very eyes. Finally she picked up the frosting bowl and went back to her work but added, “I figure that no one else will have you. Not now—especially not now. Your conniving wife won’t think twice about turning you out. She certainly didn’t think twice about leaving you.”

  Her words stung deep. Hadn’t these thoughts been a part of Cole’s very nightmare? Dianne hadn’t written. She hadn’t sent so much as a single word to let him know she was safe. His mother said that was because she was trying to hurt him … make him so afraid he’d hurry home to her so that she could drive him back out, refuse him a home. Now his mother’s words just seemed manipulative, almost deceitful. Exactly as Dianne had told him.

  “No one is going to escape this winter unscathed,” Dianne said as she put down the curtain. Snows had buried them deep, and for the safety and conservation of heating wood, they’d all come to live in Koko’s cabin.

  “I’ve never seen a winter when the snows continued for more than ten days,” Koko said, shaking her head. “This winter is fierce. Many cattle and horses are sure to die.”

  “I suppose we’re blessed not to have a herd,” Dianne murmured as she took a seat at the table with George and Koko. The children were still sleeping soundly by the fireplace, and though it was dawn, the heavy skies would allow in no light.

  “We’re very blessed. Had you returned last year like you wanted and brought up all those cows from Texas, we’d be losing them now,” George said, looking to Dianne with a somber expression.

  “Poor Chester Lawrence,” Koko added. “He was boasting a herd of over eight thousand. I don’t know if that was true or not, but George heard it in Bozeman when Gus was ill. If he has that many, he’ll no doubt see huge losses.”

  “Serves him right,” Dianne said, not feeling the least bit charitable. Her advancing pregnancy was making her irritable. Being buried alive by blizzard after blizzard was making her feel desperate.

  “I know Chester has wronged us all,” Koko began, “but remember the Bible talks about being kind to your enemy. We don’t want to make our hearts like his.”

  Dianne felt completely chastised. “I know,” she sighed. “It’s just that sometimes a person likes to see God intervene and take His revenge. When I think of all the people who have suffered under Chester’s hand—folks who’ve lost their ranches and are now long gone—well, it seems this is a just revenge.”

  “Perhaps, but there is nothing of Christian charity in gloating over the misfortune of others. God doesn’t like a haughty spirit and we must guard our hearts.”

  “My heart is definitely guarded,” Dianne said with a heavy sigh. She’d written to Cole about the baby and had heard nothing from him. Of course, the snows had come early and heavy and there could be a letter waiting for her in Virginia City. If so, she had no way of knowing. Either way, she wasn’t getting her hopes up. She was, as Koko had admonished, guarding her heart.

  Guarding it against further pain.

  Guarding it against a future that might never come.

  CHAPTER 21

  FEBRUARY BROUGHT NO RELIEF FROM THE WEATHER NOR the discouragement that seemed to embrace the resid
ents of the Diamond V. Dianne could barely stand her own company, much less that of anyone else. She found herself constantly feeling angry with the children for no good reason.

  She’d come to accept the new life she carried and even told herself that it would make things better. The children were quite excited about the baby, and everyone wanted a part in planning for the arrival.

  George and Jamie had the boys help them fashion a cradle for the infant, while Koko and Susannah worked with Lia and Winona to make tiny baby clothes. Dianne had tried hard to put aside the distance that separated her from Cole and focus instead on her little ones.

  Day after long, cold day, Dianne turned to the Bible for her nightly reading. She knew that God was her mainstay—her fortress of strength. She tried to keep her hope fixed on the fact that He was a God of impossibilities. But as the winter pressed in closer around them, Dianne worried that maybe her life and the mess she’d created were even beyond God.

  The thing that worried her most, however, was that she hadn’t felt the baby move all day. Maybe it had even been as long as two days. She couldn’t be sure. She’d been so busy with schooling her children and Winona that she hadn’t really thought about the baby inside her. Dianne pushed against her abdomen, hoping to stir a little reaction from the child, but there was nothing.

  With this concern on her mind, along with a fierce headache, Dianne was hardly up to dealing with her aunt’s distress over Winona.

  “Dianne, she’s deeply saddened by her mother’s absence.

  She’s hardly eaten or spoken to anyone for weeks.”

  “I know,” Dianne said, rubbing her forehead. “I’ll talk to her.”

  “Are you feeling poorly?”

  Dianne looked up wearily and met Koko’s compassionate gaze. “My head hurts, that’s all. Just too much white outside and too much darkness inside.”

  “Mama, when is Papa coming home?” John asked.

  Dianne frowned. “And too many questions.” She looked at her son and shook her head. “Stop asking me about your father! We’re buried in snow, John. Nobody can get through until it all melts and goes away. Hopefully, Papa will come home after that.” If it’s important enough to him. The proof of her irritation rang out in her tone, and John’s expression made it clear his feelings were hurt.

  “Your mama doesn’t feel good, John,” Koko told him. “Why don’t you go play with your brothers and let her rest?”

  John nodded and started to walk away, but just then Luke came bounding up to the table. “Can we go work with Jamie and Uncle George? They’re going to go dig us out.”

  Dianne thought the idea sounded like a good one to help her energetic sons get some exercise. “Put on your warm clothes and your coats. Don’t forget your gloves and hats and then you can go outside to shovel snow.”

  Koko smiled. “Come on, boys. I’ll help you.”

  Dianne sighed as they all went to the back porch. She knew she needed to talk with Winona, but truth be told, she just didn’t have the heart for it. What could she possibly say to the child that hadn’t been said before?

  Making her way to the bedroom that she had been sharing with Lia and Winona, Dianne didn’t even bother to knock. Inside she found Winona sitting on the bed, curled up in the corner against the wall.

  “I haven’t seen you all day,” Dianne declared as she went to the bed and awkwardly sat down. The baby was making everything difficult these days. “What are you thinking about back here all by yourself?”

  Winona sighed, refusing to look at Dianne. “I miss my mama. I want her to come home.”

  “I want that too, but sweetie, we’ve got several feet of snow outside. There’s no way your mother could get here now.” Even if she wanted to. But Dianne feared Ardith had no desire to be here. If she did, she’d already be here.

  “I don’t know why she had to go away.”

  Dianne nodded sympathetically. “I know, but sometimes people need time to think things through—to feel better.”

  “Aunt Dianne, do you think Mama will ever come back?”

  The question caught Dianne off guard. “Of course she’ll come back.” At least that’s what I pray every day. Dianne wished she could assure the child that there was no doubt about her mother’s return. But Ardith’s departure had been such a drastic move that it wouldn’t surprise any of the family to see Ardith make yet another bad decision. Dianne reached out to touch Winona’s leg, but the child only recoiled. Deciding to try again later, Dianne stood.

  “You can’t give up hope, Winona. The hope within is all that keeps anybody going from day to day. My children miss their father, but they have hope of seeing him again. You have reason to hope that your mother will come home or at least come back for you.”

  Winona looked at her hands and said nothing. Dianne knew it would do little good to keep talking about the matter. Winona didn’t believe her anyway.

  By six o’clock that evening, Dianne was certain she was sick. The headache had alleviated a bit, but other aches and pains had come to make up for its lessening. She wished Cole were there. She always felt better just having him close whenever she was sick.

  “You’ve hardly eaten,” Koko admonished. “How are you going to keep you and that baby strong and healthy if you don’t eat?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling at all well.” Nauseous and lightheaded, Dianne got up from the dinner table.

  “I’m going to lie down. I—” She stumbled and grabbed for the back of her chair.

  “Dianne?” Koko asked as she started to stand as well.

  George jumped to his feet and came to where Dianne stood. She smiled. “I’m sorry for being a bother,” she said just before losing consciousness.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Koko told George. “I’m sure the baby has died inside her. There’s no movement. I think it’s making her sick.”

  “Can we do anything?” he asked, never letting his gaze leave Dianne for even a moment.

  “I can give her some herbs. They’ll help her start her labor. She must expel the child in order to recover. Her body is filled with poisons now—poisons from the baby.”

  “So there’s no hope for the child?” George asked, saddened by the idea of Dianne losing a baby. She loved her children greatly and was a good mother. He could only imagine how hard it would be for her to lose one of them.

  “I don’t think so. I think the baby has probably been gone for several days. Dianne started feeling ill two days ago.” Koko shook her head sadly. “I’ll go get my things. You stay here with her.”

  George pulled a chair to the side of the bed. He would have been hard-pressed to leave her had his sister commanded him elsewhere. He felt useless and unable to help this woman … the woman he loved more dearly than life. Would she perish? Would the child’s death also take the life of the mother?

  George took hold of her hand. “You have to get well—you know that. Your children need you. They need you, Dianne.

  You must get well for them.” For me. He left his thought unspoken. Only his sister would have understood. If anyone else would have overheard his thought, it would have only served to confuse them.

  “Mama said to bring this hot water in,” Susannah said as she entered the room.

  George quickly dropped Dianne’s hand and stood to help her. “I’m going to stay here and help your mother. Will you be able to work with Jamie and care for the children?”

  Susannah looked at him oddly. “You don’t have to help Mama. I can do it.”

  “No, I think it’d be best if you were there for the children. They need a female for a time like this,” George said firmly. “Your mother will understand.”

  Susannah didn’t argue. “All right. I’ll let Mama know that you’re going to help her.” She left the room, her expression telling him that she didn’t understand.

  Koko came back quickly after that. She said nothing about George’s encounter with Susannah but merely held up a glass. “We have to get her to dr
ink this.”

  “I’ll lift her up and hold her for you.”

  Koko nodded. “Let’s get to it then.”

  As the night wore on, Dianne developed a fever that rose with every passing hour. Koko was clearly worried about the situation; George could read it in her eyes. She usually wore a guarded expression when dealing with injuries or sickness, but this time she was too worried to conceal her fears.

  “The baby should come sometime after midnight,” she told him. She put her hands on both sides of Dianne’s abdomen. After several moments, she said, “The contractions are good and hard. We shouldn’t have to give her anything more—at least not for the birth.”

  But it isn’t really a birth, George thought. This child was never going to breathe air—would never cry—would never open its eyes to see its mother. He hadn’t realized how hard this was going to be for him. He supposed he’d always thought of Dianne’s children as his own, in some strange fashion. He’d always pledged to himself that if anything happened to Cole, he’d see to the welfare of the family. So now, with this baby being stillborn, George felt almost as if he’d somehow failed in his duties.

  Dianne would be devastated by this loss. She might have been worried about having a child during a time of marital difficulty, but George knew she would have loved this baby as much as she did the others. Losing the baby would not be an easy matter for her.

  Praying silently, a million questions came to mind. Why was she enduring this? Why had God allowed such grief in her life? Why was Cole in Kansas, when she was here? George knew he could never have let her go had he been her husband.

  But you’re not her husband, a voice whispered in his heart. And you cannot desire her as such. She is your friend—as is Cole. His conscience won over his heart. I won’t do anything to jeopardize our friendship, he determined as he sat beside Dianne. I will not dishonor God by thinking thoughts that should never be.