“You forget, Sheriff. I don’t have any money.”
“Tell ’em to put it on my tab.”
Cassie stared at the man’s back as he strode to his office. He who had started out so brusque was now offering to buy her coffee. What did he expect from her? She shook her head and did as he said.
When she told the young woman waiting on her table what the sheriff said, the girl nodded. “That’s Sheriff Timmons all right. Tries to be hard on the outside, and he can be tough, let me tell you, but then the inside is soft as goose down. He really cares about the people in this town. We’ve never had a man like him in the office before.”
“He was barely civil when we started out.”
“That’s him. Be right back.”
Cassie looked around at the comfortable dining room. Red-and-white-checked tablecloths and curtains at the windows, boards with brands burned into them on the walls, a few framed pictures, one of a stern couple, looked to be a wedding picture. Gaslights in sconces on the walls, a stone fireplace with a merry crackling fire.
The serving girl returned, setting a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie in front of her. “Forgot to ask if you want cream.”
Cream, what a treat. And pie. “But I can’t take this pie. I mean . . .”
“Don’t you worry none. That’s what he would order for you. Trust me, apple pie is the way to that man’s heart for sure.”
Cassie gathered her courage together. “Is he married?”
“Nope. But not ’cause all the girls and women around here aren’t trying. Says he’s waiting for the perfect woman.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Just between you and me and the lamppost, he’s gonna look a long time.”
Cassie swallowed the rest of her questions and took a bite of the pie. Cinnamon and apples and a crust to float up to heaven on.
“Cook does good with pies. She’s known all over the region for her pies and her chicken and dumplings. Her brisket ain’t bad neither. Why, hon, you act like you had no pie for a long time.”
“If you only knew.”
“Gotta go.”
Cassie watched her greet a couple who just came in the door and, with a smile, show them to a table. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad town after all, now that she was getting to know it a bit.
She was making her second cup of coffee last as long as possible when the sheriff walked in with a tall man wearing a sling on his arm. Surely she’d not injured him that badly.
Sheriff Timmons pulled out a chair and motioned for Alfred to do the same. The man stared down at the table, not meeting Cassie’s scrutiny.
The young woman brought the coffeepot and two more cups. “Pie will be right up.”
“Did you try Odell’s apple pie?”
“Thank you.” She nodded toward the serving girl. “She insisted. I’ve not had pie since we left Dickinson.”
“That’s Sally serving us.” He grinned at her when she put the pie in front of them. “Thanks for the pie and for taking good care of our guest here.”
“You’re welcome. Holler if you need more.”
Timmons looked at Cassie. “You want another piece?”
“No, thanks. Coffee is just fine.” As was sitting on a chair, at a table, with good food and unlimited coffee. He had no idea how fortunate he was. She turned her attention to the man across the table.
When he looked up at her, she saw the most woeful eyes she’d ever seen.
“I took your money, miss, and I want you to know I would never have shot your dog or the Injun.”
“You sure sounded like you would have.”
“I’m sorry.” He dug in his pocket and laid the fifty-dollar bill and the ten on the table. “This is all that’s left. I bought some food for my family and paid the doctor with the rest.”
“Do you know how much there was in the roll?” Timmons asked Cassie.
She shook her head. “I’m sure not a lot—the rest was all ones.”
Alfred nodded.
“It was Otto’s loose lips, all right. Whatever possessed you to do this, Alfred?”
“I just thought to get some food in our house. Thought they’d go on down the road and not miss it. Thought with their fancy wagon and all that they had plenty. I never stole nothing before in my life, and I won’t again.” He looked at Cassie and then pushed the money toward her. “I can’t say when I can pay the rest, but . . .”
Cassie heaved a sigh. “Look, I did a stupid thing too, so you don’t need to worry about paying me back. I’ll take this, and we’ll be on our way. You sure put on a good act last night.”
“It’s easy to be big behind a bandanna.” Timmons pushed his empty plate away. “I’d say she’s being mighty good to you.” He turned to Cassie. “You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”
“I’m sure. We need to get to my father’s valley before the snow comes. This way we can still put some miles on today.” She rose and pushed back her chair at the same time. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
He smiled at her. “If you ever come back this way, let me know.”
Back on her horse, Cassie replayed that smile. His whole face had changed. His voice had changed. What on earth had happened back there?
16
BAR E RANCH
Sunday morning found the Engstrom family back in the wagon heading for town and church. Ransom hupped the horses, and they picked up a trot, making him wish they had a buggy with springs. He’d been dreaming of one for the last couple of years. He glanced over at his mother. Somewhere during the night, she’d lost her smile. Lucas didn’t come home last night after the dance.
“He’s all right, Ma. Remember, you said you don’t worry about us. You let God do that.”
“I know. But it’s easier to say when everyone is home under our roof and not lying out on the ground somewhere, freezing, with broken bones.”
“Lucas is fine. He’ll probably meet us at church.” If only he had some idea that his brother would indeed do that. Worship on Sunday wasn’t Lucas’s favorite way to spend a morning. Ransom reminded himself he had forgotten to check the bunkhouse and to see if Lucas’s horse was in the pasture. Sometimes if his brother had stopped for a nip or two, he slept in the bunkhouse so as not to be on the receiving end of the glares from his mother. Mavis Engstrom hated liquor with a passion that left no doubt as to her feelings. Ransom knew it was because his father had stopped at the tavern far too often. Ivar not only drank frequently at the saloon but kept a bottle spirited away for emergencies. Only the emergencies became a daily occurrence.
“Ma, can Jenna come home with us if her mother says it’s all right?” Gretchen asked, interrupting his musings.
“Maybe not today,” Ransom answered in his mother’s place.
Gretchen glared at him, glanced up at her mother’s somber face, and didn’t ask again.
Right now Ransom was in no mood for church either. Most certainly the message would be about loving your brother or about forgiveness, neither one of which he was in the mood for right now. Lucas knew better. It wasn’t like he hung around with the scum of the area, but he liked to play cards at times, and euchre or hearts or whist at home wasn’t the same as at a gaming table with the liquor flowing, the cigars plentiful, and the money real.
Thankfully the sermon wasn’t on either of those topics, but it did manage to step on his toes more than once. Trusting that God would indeed live up to His word reminded Ransom how often he plowed ahead on his own without seeking guidance from above. After church he greeted people, all the while trying to surreptitiously look for his brother.
Lucas had not made it.
“May Gretchen come home with me?” Jenna asked, the two girls dancing in place. “Ma said we could make fudge.” Jenna and Gretchen had been best friends since before they started grade school. The Henderson ranch abutted the Engstrom spread on the east with the public road carved out between them. Adeline and Joseph, known as Joe, had a large family with six children still at home and two
grown and gone. The families exchanged labor and machinery when needed, and the oldest boy at home drove a wagon to school in the fall and spring and a sledge, complete with an enclosed compartment with a stove, in the winter, picking up other children along the way. Gretchen more often rode her horse to school, always in a hurry to get there and get home.
Mavis smiled at her daughter. “I don’t see why not. Ransom will come and pick you up so you can be home before dark.”
“Can you ask Lucas to milk for me? I’ve milked that cow all week while he was off delivering the cattle.”
“Don’t worry.” Ransom tugged on her single braid. “We’ll take care of her.”
“Thank you.” The two girls spun away, chattering like they’d not seen each other for a week or more instead of just one day.
Ransom watched his little sister switch between becoming a young lady and remaining a little girl. Did all girls grow up like this? He waited while his mother finished her conversation with one of the women and then touched her arm. “I’ll get the horses.” She nodded and said good-bye to her friend. He knew it would take her several more minutes to make her way to the door, what with all those greeting her. His mother had friends everywhere, including a couple who now lived in the state of Washington that she wrote to on a regular basis.
“How are you doing, Ransom?” Reverend Brandenburg asked as they shook hands.
“Good.” He wanted to add something about his tender toes that the sermon had stepped all over, but that didn’t seem a polite thing to do.
“We have a family here in town that needs some repairs to their roof. Is there any chance I can count on you and Lucas to help us out?”
“When?”
“The sooner the better. Before the weather changes.” He paused. “Tomorrow?”
Ransom kept a smile on his mouth and consternation from his eyes. He needed to be out felling his own trees and riding the fence line to make sure all was ready for winter. He hated to obligate Lucas to anything without talking about it first. He heaved a mental sigh. “I know I can be there, but I’ll have to ask Lucas.”
“That will be good. I have a couple of others coming. That roof should have been shingled years ago.”
Ransom nodded. Lots of things should have been done years earlier, but if there was no money to buy the supplies, well, what else could you do? “The shingles will be there?”
“I’ve ordered them from the lumberyard.”
Ransom didn’t even ask who it was that was getting the new roof or who was paying for it. He knew. The wife and children were faithful church members, but the mister hung out at the saloon more often than not. “See you tomorrow, then.” He set his hat on his head and headed toward their wagon.
“What was that all about?” Mavis asked as he helped her up onto the wagon seat.
“Putting a roof on the Beckwith house tomorrow. He wants both me and Lucas.”
“I see. No one said anything about providing dinner for the roofing crew.” Mavis waved at someone else.
Ransom stopped the team when he heard a familiar “Yoo-hoo,” called by Mrs. Brandenburg on her way to intercept them.
She stopped by the wheel. “Mavis, could you possibly send some food for dinner along with your men tomorrow? I was meaning to ask you but somehow the time got away from me.”
“What about a cake and a loaf of bread—oh, and some sliced ham for sandwiches? How many are we feeding?”
“Oh, five or six, I’d guess. The more there, the sooner they’ll be done.” She looked up at Ransom. “Thank you for agreeing to help. I hope Lucas will too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Me too. If I don’t knock him senseless.
As soon as they said their good-byes, he clucked the horses into a trot and headed out of town.
“That’s the place,” Mavis said, pointing to a weathered house off to the side of the road. One window was still boarded up after being broken so long ago no one could remember when. The porch needed a new post to hold it up before the broken one gave up the ghost. The first bad snowstorm could cause serious damage to a house already so decrepit. He knew what his mother was thinking. The only time she ever swore, she made booze into two words.
“What are you planning to do this afternoon?”
“Think I’ll go through that old pile of lumber and see if there’s something that can be turned into a post for that porch. We can’t shingle it the way it is.”
Mavis reached over and patted his knee. “You’re a good man, Ransom Engstrom.”
The smell of baking chicken greeted them when they drove up to the house. As usual, Mavis had set Sunday dinner to cooking before they left for church. Ransom let her off at the gate and took care of the team. He saw Lucas’s horse in the pasture and felt a relief that told him he’d been worried about his brother too. Why did he, or their mother, bother? Lucas would do what Lucas would do. Back at the house, he inhaled the chicken aroma and hung up his hat and coat.
“Is Lucas here?” he asked.
“Not that I know of.”
The simmering began in his belly. “His horse is home.”
Ransom strode down the hall and checked his brother’s bedroom. No one there, but the shirt his brother had worn the night before was hanging over the back of the chair. Where could he be? Back in the kitchen, he asked that of his mother.
“Try the bunkhouse, I guess. But please stoke the fireplace first and bring in some more wood. I want to get dinner on the table.”
Ransom did as asked, taking the carriers his mother had sewn out to the woodpile. That was another thing he’d planned to do tomorrow—stack the wood under the shed roof they had built to keep the wood dry. He would stack it along the house wall on the front porch too, for when the snow got deep. With the fire starting to eat the logs, he grabbed his hat and coat and stuffed his arms into the sleeves.
Lucas was not in the bunkhouse. No one had trekked through the dust on the floor for weeks. One time he had found his brother there, the smell of whiskey overwhelming and Lucas passed out on a bunk, one booted foot still on the floor. It looked like he barely made it to the bed. Disgust had dueled with compassion—and won. He’d never told his mother.
Ransom stood on the porch, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling his brother’s name.
“Down here” came from the barn, muffled by the closed door.
Ransom strode down to the barn and slid the door open to multiple screechings. The track on that needed oiling too. So many jobs to do before winter hit. How had his father ever kept up on all the little things that made this such a successful ranch? Success that had deteriorated in the last years, the years that Ransom was in charge. The thought ate at him whenever he let it get a foothold. The smell of blood hit him full force. He stepped inside, where a lantern hung on the post by the block and tackle for skinning game, beef, or pork. A headless elk hung from the crossbeams, still steaming in the cold.
“Ma was worried about you.”
“Sorry. Harry and I had a bet on who would get an elk first. I won, but not by much.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The Hudson spread lay in the next valley, so the young people had known each other all of their lives. Betsy was the middle daughter of three, and Harry the elder of the two boys.
“You didn’t come home.”
“I know. We decided to go out early, so it didn’t make sense to ride all the way out here. He got one too.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“In that meadow up behind their place. The elk sure had a good year. Look at all the fat on this one.” Lucas picked up the sheeting he’d brought down. “Help me wrap it. I got the liver and such in that bucket. I thought we should smoke these hindquarters, maybe the back strap too.”
“Not sell this one?”
“Nope.” Together they wrapped and tied the sheeting around the carcass, and Lucas picked up the pail. “I didn’t spend the night in town, if that’s what was worrying you.”
Ransom shut the d
oor behind them and they headed for the house. “Did you keep the guts to clean out for sausage?”
“Nah, it’s too far to carry them. I’ll keep the next one out here.”
“Did you take a wagon out?”
“Nope. Led the horses back. Kept the hides, though. Harry gave us his and drove me home.”
The elk was plenty of proof that Lucas wasn’t making up tales to cover his carousing, but Ransom still felt like giving his younger brother a clout on the chin.
“It’s your turn to milk tonight. Gretchen went home with Jenna.”
After dinner Ransom spent an hour sorting through the stack of lumber in the lean-to against the barn. He finally found one piece seven feet or so long. It still had the bark on, but that would have to do. He loaded the pole and his tools into the bed of the wagon and then put in the ladder too, in case it was needed. Back at the house, he took his place at the desk in the big room with the fire blazing in the fireplace. He could hear his mother and Lucas talking in the kitchen. The dog at his feet thumped a foot on the floor while scratching behind his ear with the other.
Pulling a couple of plain pieces of paper forward, Ransom drew out the dimensions for the supports needed out in the mine. They should be able to get six-by-sixes side by side on many of the trees he was considering. Or they could slice them down the middle and leave the bark. Rot wouldn’t set, dry as that hole was. He dug out the maps of the mine where he and Lucas used to play cowboys and Indians on a summer’s day. When they’d found that little nugget, glinting gold in the lamplight, they were sure there had to be more back in there somewhere. Their father had caught them, whaled them good, and made them promise not to go back into those mines before he first replaced the beams that needed it. Ransom had marked on the map where they found the cave-in. Was that why no one continued digging in that direction?
“I brought you some coffee.” Mavis set a cup and saucer on the cleared space on the desk. “Are you still dreaming about finding more gold in that old mine?”
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