Place to Belong, a

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I can imagine.” Mavis smiled inside and out. All winter Ransom had been so concerned about finances. Now here he was hiring help. Like his father, he was extremely conservative with money. He would never hire if he didn’t have the means to do it.

  He continued, “The oldest, Isaiah, is a good carpenter, so I have him working at the furniture barn. Oh, and Arnett and Chief are living over at Arnett’s house, so they don’t have to come and go every day. I figure as long as Chief is there, we don’t have to worry about Arnett.”

  There was a difference here, a profound difference. Mavis could feel it, see it, but what was it?

  Ransom rambled on. “Figure we’ll hold off branding until our pretend ranchers get here, give ’em something to do. The reverend says Isaiah’s father is a good general carpenter if you can keep him off the bottle, so maybe we can hire him to work on the bunkhouse.”

  “The bunkhouse?” Mavis ought to quit woolgathering and pay closer attention to Ransom. “You said a couple months ago that we couldn’t afford to build another bunkhouse this year.”

  “We’re gonna call it a guesthouse. Same thing. Porter wrote that plenty of people are signing up, and he’s assigning them to ranches. Won’t be the queen’s palace, of course. Sink inside, privy out back. Got the privies dug already, because the men building the bunkhouse will need them.”

  That was it! Mavis hit on it. Ransom, usually so taciturn, was talking up a storm. And either he had suddenly become loose about spending money or he had money to spend. And that was making all the difference in the world for him. “How are we paying for all this?”

  “Mr. Porter bought quite a bit of my furniture. We’re working on that order now. And we got part of the deposit that the pretend ranchers put down to stay with us. Cassie? You’re going to set up a bank account for your winnings, right?”

  “Oh. I never thought about that. I suppose I ought to now that I’m bringing in some money again.” She almost sounded worried. “There are so many things I never think of.”

  “The bank tells me a woman can’t have an account of her own. Don’t know if that’s true, but it’s this bank’s policy, so I’ll have to sign with you. I hope you’ll understand that the money is yours, and I won’t have any part in it.”

  Her voice bobbed a little when they hit another rut. “So you’ve been looking into it.”

  “Rearranging finances a little, yeah. I figure we’ll keep the guest money separate from the working ranch account and the furniture account, three accounts. Four with yours. Easier to see what’s making money and what isn’t and easier to keep the books.”

  Mavis’s heart was singing. Thank you, Lord! This is what Ransom wanted and needed! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

  They rattled into the yard. Benny and Othello turned themselves inside out barking their welcome. Ransom hopped down and came around to give her a hand out of the wagon. “Welcome home, Mor.”

  Was he that happy to see her? Or was he that happy that she’d be back in the kitchen cooking? At the risk of sounding swell-headed, she’d guess the latter.

  She would let Ransom and Cassie attend the bags. She immediately walked around to her garden. It was looking in fine shape, considering that just when it went in, a foot of snow got dumped on it. The potatoes were up, already getting bushy and green. The onion patch was looking real good. And the whole plot was well tilled. No weeds, no baked spots.

  Gretchen’s voice behind her called, “Here she is, back here!” Gretchen came running up and hugged her mightily. “Welcome home, Mor!”

  “Thank you. You took fine care of the garden. Thank you.”

  “Thank Micah. He keeps it tilled. He decided since you give them garden produce so much, it’s the least he can do.” She giggled. “I had to show him everything. He knew absolutely nothing about gardening. Can you imagine?”

  “I can. Denver is a whole city full of people who have probably never seen a garden.” Mavis walked back toward the house but stopped. They had already laid out the foundation for the guesthouse under the trees. A pleasant spot, and the barn smells would tend to blow away from it, not toward it. Three outhouses sat behind it, ready for business. Look at the stack of milled timbers! And she was gone only two weeks!

  The kitchen looked pretty clean, although tomorrow or the next day she was going to go into the corners and behind the stove with a wet mop. Gretchen had supper cooking. Mavis lifted the lid. Chicken and dumplings! And there was an apple pie in the oven.

  Ransom came in with a load of stove wood.

  She smiled. “You did a good job, Gretchen. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Jenna helped me.”

  “Hah.” Ransom smirked. “Yesterday she and Jenna were playing Parcheesi, and I said, ‘You know, Mor’s coming back tomorrow.’ She got this horrified look on her face, I mean scared-like. ‘Tomorrow!’ and they real fast started cleaning up the kitchen. Took ’em some time too. It was pretty messy.”

  “Ransom! That’s not true!” Gretchen glanced at Mavis. “Well, mostly not true.”

  Mavis sat down at the table. “Is there coffee made?”

  “There will be in a minute.” Gretchen went to the stove.

  There was much to think about here. Much had changed, and Mavis was going to have to ponder what was going on. Later. “Ransom, when do you start the carpentry on the bunkhouse?”

  He sat down beside her. Did he look younger? He did—he actually looked younger. She had never guessed what a burden their finances had been on him.

  “We’ll put the framing up in the next three days. Oh, and we bought another donkey engine. Arnett’s idea, and he’s right. We figure his steam engine might give out one of these days, and then we’d be stuck. We use it for the furniture, the bunkhouse construction, for everything. They’re ripping siding over at the furniture barn now for the bunkhouse. Both engines are over there. We’ll bring one of them over here when we really get going on the carpentry.”

  There was a lilt to his voice that she’d never heard before.

  Cassie came in the back door and sat down beside Mavis. “George and Wind Dancer and the others are doing just fine. We almost have a buffalo factory going with all those buffalo calves.”

  “I was going to talk to you about that.” Ransom accepted a coffee mug from Gretchen. “We’re going to have more buffalo than we need, even when you use them in your Wild West show. I was thinking buffalo steak might be a hit with our pretend ranchers, especially when they have live buffalo right outside their window. That is, if you wouldn’t mind selling one of them for butchering. I was thinking that two-year bull, before George starts getting worried about him.”

  “They’re guests, Ransom, not pretend ranchers,” Gretchen chided.

  “I agree, let’s butcher that bull before he starts giving George trouble.” Even Cassie was smiling. “And the calves will be young enough. Folks will love to see them when we display them at the show. You should have seen the crowds that would gather around the buffalo pen, just oohing and aahing. I bet some of them paid the admission just to see the buffalo calves.”

  Mavis frowned. “People paid admission to enter the show grounds?”

  “Yes.” Cassie’s voice was hesitant, as if Mavis had asked if rain were wet.

  “Mm.”

  “Do you think there was something wrong with that?”

  “No, not at all.” Mavis would do her thinking later. It was time to get back into the rhythm of the ranch. “I realize it’s a little early, but I’m about ready for supper.”

  “And supper is almost ready for you.” Gretchen pulled the pie out of the oven. “Let me warm up the bread—it’s yesterday’s.”

  Everything was rolling along as usual. They had money to work with, and Ransom, Gretchen, Cassie—they all seemed happy. Mavis herself could not be happier.

  Construction on the new bunkhouse (“Not bunkhouse! It’s a guesthouse!” Gretchen would fume) began the very next day. Furniture making was temporarily halte
d as Micah, Chief, Ransom, the three Stilson boys, Arnett, Runs Like a Deer, Cassie, and Mavis all went to work putting basic framing together. The sides were laid out beside the foundation. That part was done by dinnertime of the third day.

  With a pencil and scratch paper, Arnett explained how they would get the bottom of the framing up on the foundation, raise the top part, and fasten it all together. Mavis watched the Stilson boys as Arnett showed everyone what to do. They were paying close attention—even the youngest, Ezekiel. He might be a bit short, but he worked like any man. Ransom had chosen well.

  Friday morning, Mavis and Gretchen were cleaning up the last of breakfast when here came the Hendersons. It was the whole family too, not just Jenna or her mother. They tied up at the front door.

  “Oh dear.” Mavis looked at them out the window. “As much as I would love to sit and visit, we have that work to do.”

  “They’re not here to visit. They’re going to help raise the guesthouse. Ransom invited them last Sunday.” Gretchen hung up her towel. “You know, when we get the sides up vertical and spike them together, like Arnett was explaining.”

  “Ransom has it planned out in that much detail?”

  “Mor!” Gretchen sounded disgusted. “Ransom plans out in detail how he’s gonna hold his fork at dinner.” She went out to greet their working guests.

  An hour later, Mavis and Cassie had abandoned the kitchen to drive spikes when another wagon pulled into the yard. It was JD McKittrick’s delivery wagon with JD himself handling the lines. He drove over to their worksite and climbed down.

  Mavis put down her hammer and walked over to greet him. “Good to see you, JD.”

  “I was going to send my boy out, but I wanted to come by and see your new bunkhouse. Besides, it’s a beautiful day to take a drive.”

  “It is that.” Ransom stepped in beside her.

  “Oh, and Mavis? I’m really happy for Cassie. She was sparkling when she walked into my store, paid off her tab, and bought more shells for cash. Just sparkling! She’s a gem, that girl.”

  Mavis smiled. “She is that. Always wants to pay her own way and then some, just like her father.” Adam Lockwood. So long ago.

  Ransom pointed. “If you would, JD, I want to unload them over there. Ike? Come help unload, please.”

  The oldest Stilson boy came hurrying over.

  Mavis followed them to the trees. JD swung the back doors of his delivery wagon open and Ransom hopped up inside. He handed a framed window down to Isaiah; the boy propped it aside against a tree and took another. JD strolled over to stand beside Mavis.

  “Windows?” Mavis asked.

  “Ransom ordered ’em last week.” JD stood with arms folded, a smile on his face. “Says he doesn’t have time to frame up windows and glaze them with all the other stuff he’s doing. So he gave me the measurements. Lotta people in town do that now. Doc Barnett—that new window in his parlor—I framed that one up for him. Say, the word is that quite a few people are signing up for that live-like-a-rancher thing Porter dreamed up. That’s what this is for, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, you aren’t alone. Fletchers are putting up an extra bunkhouse—they call it guest quarters—and so is Jay Slatfield.”

  “Would you like to stay for dinner? And coffee? There are still some pecan rolls, and I made cookies.”

  “Mavis, I’d love to. You’re the best cook around. But I have to get back and mind the store. Another time, for sure.”

  “Well, then at least take along some cookies.”

  By the time he turned his empty wagon around and pulled up at the house, Mavis had a bag of cookies for him. “Thanks, my friend! Greet the missus for me.”

  He grinned. “Oh, I will. She’s already envious that I came on out here.” He raised the bag of cookies. “Thank you!” He clucked his team forward, and dust spiraled behind him as they trotted down the lane.

  Mavis checked her ham in the oven, added water, and returned to the guesthouse.

  After dinner they put Arnett’s plan into action. They lifted the bottom ends of each frame up onto the foundation. It took all of them to lift a frame. This was heavier work than Mavis had anticipated.

  Arnett stepped back, the supervisor. “We’ll do an end frame first, for practice. Besides, it’s not as heavy as the long ones. Everybody line up along the top of it; you’re gonna lift it up. Cassie, Ike, you’ll keep the bottom ends from slipping off the foundation as it goes up. Wedge those two-by-fours against the bottom. That’s right. All right, everybody, lift her up. Heave ho!”

  The top of the frame rose off the ground. Grunting, the lifters raised it further, hand over hand. Ransom and Mr. Henderson snatched up heavy poles. Ransom wedged his up against the top of the frame to keep it from falling back. Mr. Henderson hopped the foundation and swung his pole up on the other side. He held it ready against the frame.

  Arnett called, “Go!” One more heave and the frame rose to vertical, propped on one side by Ransom’s pole and on the other by Mr. Henderson’s.

  “Cassie, Ike, wedge a couple more props in there to hold it firm. That’s good. Right!”

  Mavis stepped back, sweating. “That went smoothly.”

  Gretchen was sweating, too. “And just think. We only have three more of these monsters to raise.”

  This was so much like old times. Mavis recalled clearly the house raising and barn raising as all the neighbors helped Ivar and her put up their buildings. And all the times too, when she and Ivar helped raise buildings for their neighbors.

  The frame for the other end went up just as smoothly. Everyone paused for coffee, milk, and cookies. The break was more than welcome.

  Ransom said, “Well, let’s get back to work.”

  Mavis stood up. “We’ll take care of the cookies and things later, Cassie.”

  The girl nodded and went off to join Gretchen and Jenna. She might be a winning shooter, but Mavis must not forget how young she still was.

  Ransom looked concerned. “These next two sides are over twice as long as the two that we just put up. I’m worried we don’t have enough people.”

  “Well, let’s try it,” Arnett said.

  He pointed out to Cassie and Isaiah where to wedge their two-by-fours, holding the bottom of the frame steady. He lined the lifters out along the top, alternating the weakest and strongest. Mavis noted that he considered Chief one of the weaker ones.

  “Get your poles ready, gents.” Arnett picked up a pole himself. “Ready? Lift.”

  Rather shaky, the top of the frame rose up. It sagged a bit in the middle, but continued rising. Then Cassie yelped as the bottom end of the frame began sliding inward. She was leaning into her two-by-four, but her feet were sliding backward along the ground. Isaiah was leaning mightily, but his feet couldn’t keep traction either. Once one side slid, the other went with it. The whole frame shifted violently and Mavis fell forward on her knees. She scrambled to her feet, holding on to the frame to keep it from tipping back on top of her. Ransom and both Hendersons were shouting. Arnett was bellowing. She could not see what was happening.

  Ransom was beside her now, lifting the frame away from her. “Mor! Let it down. Let it down. That’s right.”

  Mavis squirmed out from under, stood erect. Cassie was back on her feet, but her bloody nose was soiling the front of her shirt. Gretchen was wadding up her handkerchief. She handed it to Cassie. Ransom jumped the foundation and hurried to her, stepping over the rafters and beams. He bent down until they were face to face. Why did that tickle Mavis so?

  The framing of the whole side looked skewed as it draped over the foundation. Arnett was studying it, thinking, looking dismayed.

  Cassie must have gotten her nosebleed stopped. “Let’s try this again. We can do it.”

  “Not enough of us,” Ransom replied.

  Chief stepped into the middle of the framing. “Maybe enough if we do it different.” Amazing! Until this moment he had not said a single word. “Mr. Hende
rson. You and Ransom are heaviest. You two block the footing. Cassie, Ike, they don’t weigh enough; it pushes them around. Cassie, Ike, Jenna, you put poles up to prop it when it’s upright. Mavis, you, me, there.” He pointed. “Miz Henderson there. Jerry, Zeke, there. No, Gretchen, Zeke, there. Arnett, you too. There. We pick it up, put the footing on foundation, then you four move around to there.”

  Ransom bobbed his head. “Let’s try it like he says.”

  Struggling, they dragged the lower part of the framing to rest on the foundation. They took their positions. Chief adjusted the distance between Ransom and Mr. Henderson.

  Arnett called, “Lift on three. One, two, three.” The frame wavered and rose. This was too much for Mavis to hold up; she would drop it for sure. But as it rose, it seemed less heavy. And now they were hand-over-handing it to upright and it hardly weighed anything at all. Cassie, Jenna, and Ike thrust their props against the top beam. Arnett sent people forward with more props.

  When Gretchen and Jenna cheered, everyone else joined in. And all could step back.

  “Mr. Henderson, Micah, rope the corners together temporarily, so they don’t fall.” Ransom handed hammers to Ike and Jerry. “We want to toe in the spikes, get those corners squared. Then we’ll put up the fourth side.”

  Mavis sat down in the grass and simply watched. Ransom was a natural leader, like his father before him. He saw what had to be done and knew who could do it. He gave one order at a time, praised frequently. And she watched Cassie too. Cassie was simply sitting on the ground now, gently poking at her cheek. Her nose had quit bleeding, but her cheek and eye were turning purple. Would Ransom blame himself for the accident? Probably.

  One more side to raise. They used Chief’s arrangement and got it up on the first attempt. Gretchen cheered and the hammers resumed their pounding. The framing for the walls, the hardest part, was done.

  Mavis was so bone weary she could barely stand up. And now she was going to feed all these people. Well, as the ladies in the church circle always said, “Chickens and pigs don’t fly into people’s mouths by themselves.” She trudged toward the house.