Place to Belong, a

by Lauraine Snelling

  Cassie’s chest bumped. “Yes. Why?”

  “He’s here on the grounds, and there are two men with him. They look menacing, sort of. Not happy. They even kind of scare me.”

  “Where did you see them?”

  “That concessions booth where Ransom is showing his furniture. They saw the Engstrom sign and went right there. He’s not telling them anything.”

  Mavis butted in. “That is a thing to worry about sometime later. Cassie, forget him for the moment. You have more important things to do right now.”

  “You’re right, Mavis.” Cassie loosened Wind Dancer’s girth. She would do her shooting routine as the last act, join the final flag parade in the ring, and the show would be over. Until then, the Engstroms would take care of anything that needed taking care of. She could be sure of that. Well, the Engstroms and God. She said a short prayer anyway.

  The shooting act went beautifully as well. Chief handled the targets, and Micah handled her guns, just like old times. She ended with her favorite trick, driving nails into a board. Chief was really good selling this one. He, like she and Micah, was a seasoned performer who enjoyed entertaining, although just to look at him, you’d never guess it. He paraded across the front of the grandstand with the board held high, hooked his fingers in the three nails to show they were only half driven in, then set the board into the framing that Arnett had made. From across the arena, Cassie fired three times. Chief pulled the board from its frame and again showed it to the crowd, hooking his finger over the nails now sticking out the other side. The folks really liked that one! She left the arena to wild applause.

  The Stilson boys ran out into the arena, dragged the two-by-six backdrop out of the way, and the roper came out at a gallop with South Dakota’s flag flying. Cassie swung aboard Wind Dancer, waited until the other performers passed by, then followed them out with the American flag set in its staff holder on her saddle and flying free above her. They all did a simple chain weave at full gallop, then, a flag at each end, they lined out down the center of the arena and waved their hats. The audience stood up, stomped, and cheered.

  This wasn’t like old times. This was better than old times!

  As the crowd began to break up, Mr. Porter reminded them that this was only the first of what would become an annual event, and he hoped they would return next year and bring their friends. He reminded them of the rodeo and Independence Day ceremony tomorrow, and said that Cassie Lockwood and her magnificent horse, Wind Dancer, would do one more exhibition. “So we’ll see you all again tomorrow. Enjoy the other events going on in town and visit all our vendors. Nowhere else will you have so many choices of authentic western products.” He waved his hat in the air. “Adios.”

  Cassie enjoyed watching him in action. Wearing a fringed leather jacket, a wide-brimmed white felt hat, and a string tie with a turquoise stop, he reminded her slightly of Wild Bill Hickok. Mr. Porter had invited the audience to return and bring their friends next year. Where would they put their friends? The grandstand was nearly full this year!

  Eventually the hubbub settled. Micah, like old times, led Wind Dancer away to his celebratory dinner of oats and alfalfa. Cassie strolled over to the Engstrom furniture booth. She stopped beside the ramada. Ransom was talking to Mavis, and they were talking about her.

  Ransom was saying, “And now here’s more trouble! Mor, they could have hurt you. I’m sure they’re capable of that.”

  Cassie stayed hidden and listened.

  “I can’t believe Jason would hurt me.”

  “You were alone in the house. The men were building furniture, and the girls and I were in town. Yes, they could hurt you. You were wise to hang on to the shotgun until we got back.”

  Hang on to the shotgun? The only time Mavis was alone was when Cassie, Gretchen, and Ransom went to town a couple weeks ago. Jason and his companions must have come out to the ranch then. Why didn’t Mavis tell her he’d been there?

  Because they didn’t want to upset her before the show. What else were they holding back? On the other hand, that was not only very thoughtful of them, but smart. She still remembered all too well that argument in Kentucky and how it must surely have affected her performance.

  But Ransom’s next comment slammed into her. “Before Cassie came here, we didn’t have any of this kind of thing.”

  She fell back a step. She couldn’t hear what else he said or what Mavis replied. He was blaming her that Jason showed up! She turned and hurried away before they saw her. He still hated her! She had just about come around to believing Mavis, that he cared about her, and now this.

  That settled it. She would not be burned and rejected again by an Engstrom man. She loved him, she was pretty certain of that now, but he most assuredly did not love her. It was in a way the opposite of Lucas and her. The show was over, her obligation met. She would leave at the first chance. To go where? It didn’t matter. Where an Engstrom was not, that’s where.

  “Why, Cassie! There you are!” Jason Talbot! He broke out from the people milling around the stalls and hurried over to her. He was carrying a briefcase of some sort, hard-sided, not a carpetbag. “Wait! I want to talk to you. I’ve been looking for you.”

  She stuttered something with “I’m sorry” as part of it. He was the last person in the world she wanted to talk to now.

  “No, listen a moment, please. I have wonderful news. Look!” He set that little suitcase on a fence rail and popped it open. He brought out a businesslike sheet of paper. “This is a contract, a very handsome contract guaranteeing you an annual salary. I have been looking all over for you to provide you with this opportunity.” He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a fountain pen.

  Where were the two dark companions Gretchen and Lucas were talking about? They weren’t with him. Oh, there they were, over by the fried waffles tent. Gretchen was right. They looked unsavory.

  “Jason, I’m sorry, but right now I—”

  “Just listen to this!” He pointed to a paragraph. “An annual income, a very comfortable income, and between shows you will be provided with a nice apartment in Atlanta, Georgia. Lovely part of the country, Georgia, but then, you know that. The show has been through there many times.” He pointed to another paragraph. “You have right of first refusal on any contests and exhibitions in which you may be asked to participate. And here . . .”

  Atlanta. This gave her food for thought. She could hardly go any farther to get away from Ransom Engstrom, and Georgia certainly had a nice climate. Perhaps if she read this contract very carefully, no doubt to insist on a few changes, she could sign this safely.

  She sighed. “All right. Give it to me and I’ll read it later. Right now—”

  “Just a simple contract, but it will make you a star.” He closed his case, laid the paper on it, and offered her his pen.

  “I’ll take it along and read it through carefully, later.”

  “Cassie! You know I’ve always had your best interests at heart your whole life. It’s a simple contract—standard, nothing unusual. Go ahead and sign it, and we can get started planning your career as a star.”

  She reached for the pen, hesitated, and drew her hand back. She must think. And she was too upset to think. She licked her lips. “I did poorly at the shoot here last year.”

  “I heard all about that from Ty Fuller. That’s when he first met you. He has had nothing but praise for you. You had a severe injury, and yet you came through like the champion you are.”

  “And when we went to Kansas City—”

  “A fine showing.”

  Things were becoming clearer. “Not in Louisville.”

  “Extenuating circumstances, I’m sure. Now if you’ll—”

  “Well,” she had to admit, “there was a harsh argument the morning of the first day, and I think it upset me more than I realized, but still, I should have—”

  “I cannot imagine anyone arguing with a cute little girl like you. Now, if you’ll just sign here.”

&nb
sp; And now she saw clearly—at least, she believed she did. She raised her voice. “Jason, that’s not my point! My point is, I was not shooting at my best, and yet I earned enough money to cover expenses and then some. And do you realize how much the winners walked home with?”

  “Of course I do. I organize shoots, as it explains right here. Here’s the pen.”

  She raised her voice. “Where did all that money go, Jason? I earned an immense amount of money for you at shoots, not even counting the Wild West Show, and I never saw a penny of it. I was a child. I didn’t even know I was winning any money. Where did it all go?”

  “Expenses. It takes a lot of money to field a show that big.”

  “I was small and not paying much attention. The business end was grown-up matters. But I do remember lying in my bunk at night, hearing my father telling my mother that we ought to be making more money. And after she died, he said more than once that the show was so successful, yet we were always in the red. I remember, vague as it was, that he thought admission and concessions should have covered expenses, even without the rest of it.”

  Jason’s head bowed. He looked very sad. “I’m sorry, Cassie, to be the one to tell you this. You see, your father was a gambler. It’s called a compulsive gambler. He just had to. You know, I’m sure, that’s how he became my partner. He won half the show in a card game. His gambling problem was severe in that he lost more than he won. I hate to have to be the one to tell you, but . . . well, there it is. That’s why the show lost money.”

  How could he say such a thing? For a moment, Cassie stood speechless. And suddenly, it all came crystal clear. “Jason! He won half the show. You lost it! No, he was not a losing gambler, you are. He stayed home in his wagon with his family every night. With my mother and me. You were the one who left the grounds and stayed away most of the night. You lost the show with your gambling.”

  “Now, Cassie, stop and think—”

  Those two dark men came over. One was smiling, but it was the coldest smile Cassie had ever seen. “Good afternoon, Miss Lockwood. You put on a splendid show today. You are amazingly talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Let me explain why we came with Mr. Talbot today. My name is John Smith, and this is my associate, Mr. Jones. We are business associates of Mr. Talbot’s. You see, he knows how to put together a financially successful show, but he lacks the capital to get it started. We can supply the capital, but we have none of his expertise. Thus, the partnership.”

  “I see.”

  Mr. Jones stepped in quietly behind Jason.

  Mr. Smith continued, “It is we who asked for a contract. We need some surety if we are going to back his enterprise financially. The deal shows excellent potential, but we need some sort of evidence to show our own associates that the idea is viable. We are agreed that they will readily accept a gesture of good faith on your part as that evidence. You will not be bound by the contract, we promise you, but we do have to have the signed paper to go through with the project.” He ripped the pen out of Jason’s hand and extended it to her.

  She crossed her arms across her chest, gripping her elbows with her hands. “I remember something else my father said, more than once. ‘Trust your gut. If you don’t like the look of a thing, back off until you’re happy with it.’ Frankly, Mr. Smith, the idea of living in Atlanta is very appealing right now. But I have serious doubts about any enterprise Jason Talbot is involved with. I want to read the contract carefully, perhaps let a lawyer look it over. We have a good one here in town. It will only take a day or two.”

  The man’s cold smile disappeared. His face hardened. “You don’t understand, Miss Lockwood. This paper is far more important than you realize, and I’m afraid I really must insist that you sign.”

  A knife of cold fear cut into her. The man oozed such menace, she suddenly felt afraid. But she was angry too. What a frightening mix of emotions!

  “Your interview is over, gentlemen, and the lady has spoken her mind. You’ll please leave now.” Ransom! There he stood behind them, and never had he looked taller and more forbidding than he looked that moment. Cassie’s heart leapt, and it wasn’t all love. Hope makes your heart jump too.

  Mr. Smith did not move. “This is not your concern.”

  Ransom took a step closer. “Cassie is family. That makes it my concern.”

  Cassie is family! His words rang in her head and heart.

  Suddenly, Mr. Jones wheeled and slugged Ransom in the belly! Ransom buckled forward, and Jones struck him in the face. He flew backward and landed on his back.

  NO! Cassie was so stunned she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

  Mr. Smith was saying, “Let’s go. Take her with us.” He stepped forward and grabbed Cassie’s arm.

  “Whoa, gents!” Lucas! There he was, over behind Jason. Cassie had not seen him approach. He just stood there quite casually, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “That’s my brother down there, gentlemen. Like he says, she’s family. We look out for each other. May I suggest very, very strongly that you help him to his feet and dust him off, real friendly-like.” His tone of voice would make a rattlesnake think twice about striking. “Now.”

  Cassie tried to move away, but Mr. Smith was still gripping her firmly.

  Like Lucas, Mr. Smith could make his tone of voice strike fear. “We’re taking her with us. If you’re smart, you won’t cause us any trouble, and she’ll stay safe. You might want to dust your brother off yourself.”

  Cassie looked at Lucas, at Jason. On the ground behind Mr. Jones, Ransom was slowly curling up. Perhaps her best bet would be to grab the fence rail beside her and just hang on to it. So swiftly it startled Cassie, Ransom tucked his head, gained his feet, and without standing up slammed forward, shoulders first, into the back of Mr. Jones’s knees. The man’s knees buckled and he fell backward, tumbling over Ransom, hitting the ground with a satisfying thud.

  There was Jason’s briefcase! Cassie snatched it up and swung it at Mr. Smith. It caught him in the ear and he let go of her, so she hit him with it again, gripping it in both hands. He crumpled.

  Jason bolted forward, started running. Lucas raced after him and quickly outran him. He grabbed him around the waist and carried him to the ground facedown. Jason emitted an “Oof” as Lucas landed on top of him. He didn’t move, so Lucas sat down on Jason’s rear end.

  “Over there! Over there!” From out by the tents came Mavis at a run, shouting.

  Sheriff McDougal came behind her at a hard run. He stopped in the middle of them as Ransom stood erect, and Mr. Jones, after making it to his knees, flopped around to sitting. He was still having trouble catching his breath.

  The sheriff looked around, rather sternly. “Well, let’s see.” He pointed to Mr. Jones. “We have that one for sure, unprovoked assault. I saw him do it. And you,” he said, looking at Mr. Smith, “were trying to drag Cassie away, and she didn’t want to go. That’s assault too, you know. Or attempted kidnapping. We’ll work out the details later. Lucas, let that fellow up. He’s an abettor to assault.”

  Cheerfully Lucas hopped to his feet. Jason moaned. Lucas grinned. “He says he wants to stay down awhile.”

  Mavis searched from face to face, looking as though she didn’t know whom to hug first.

  Ransom picked his hat up out of the dust. “Let’s go home.”

  “Aren’t you entered in the rodeo tomorrow?” Cassie realized her knees were so weak she needed to lean against the fence. Had one of those men really planned to haul her away? It was a shame she hadn’t brought Othello along. He would have enjoyed joining this little powwow too. Somehow the thought of one or all of the men with dog bites on their legs or someplace else seemed especially fitting. Or perhaps throwing them in with George.

  “True, and you are part of the show tomorrow too. We’ll escort you, Mor, and Gretchen to the hotel and join you for supper after we get the animals settled down.” Ransom shoved his hat firmly on his head. “Do you need help with these scums, Sheriff?
”

  “That would be right neighborly, Ransom, Lucas. Perhaps we better truss ’em up some. They might try to escape, you know.” The look he sent their prisoners made Cassie shiver.

  What a strange end to a spectacular day. She let Mavis wrap an arm around her shoulders and Gretchen attach herself to her other side. A strange end for sure, but more than a little satisfying too. What would tomorrow bring?

  31

  Mama! Mama!” Jimmy Prewsky came running in the back door. “I got to slop the hogs! It’s so fun!”

  Behind him, his sister Ella burst in yelling, “And a baby pig got out of the pen, and I helped Gretchen catch it and put it back in! It’s only this long!” She held her hands apart to show the size. “Did you hear it squealing? The mama charged right into the fence!”

  Grinning, Gretchen came in with an armload of wood and rolled it into the woodbox. “Okay, you two, the woodbox needs filling.”

  Cassie was laughing with everyone else. “Gretchen, I never heard you get that excited about slopping the hogs. In fact, you’re usually a little grumpy.”

  More laughter.

  “I must have been doing something wrong.” Gretchen was laughing too. “Come on, let’s get more wood or Mor won’t be able to cook dinner.” The two followed after her, carrying the canvas sling. When they returned, they each had a handle and groaned as they lifted the load into the woodbox. They peered down into the wooden box by the stove and stared at Gretchen.

  “Do we have to fill it all up?”

  “Not right now.” Mavis saved them with a smile. “Did you all wash your hands?”

  Jimmy sniffed. “Now you sound like Mama.”

  “I am a mama. Breakfast time.”

  Cassie settled with the others at the table. Ransom and Arnett had built a table extension, but it was still crowded. Besides Cassie, Gretchen, Ransom, Arnett, and Mavis, there sat Mr. and Mrs. Prewsky and their three children, Jimmy, Ella, and Jan. Mr. Prewsky was rightly proud that his father had come from Poland as a young man and still pronounced their name the Polish way: Prev-sky. Jan, pronounced Yon, had been the father’s name. Cassie noted that Gretchen was having a high old time with the three children and even had them enthusiastic about weeding the garden, while hauling wood was fast losing its shine.