She knew her mother would deliver the baby soon. Dianne had arranged for the doctor to come and check up on her mother, and everything seemed to be fine. Now they needed only to wait, which was a task Dianne didn’t do all that well.
Working on a quilt that she’d designed for her brothers, Dianne thought about Christmas and sighed. There’d be no tree or presents. Well, she had made Zane and Morgan each a new shirt, but it hardly seemed like a real present. Dianne had made her mother a new nightgown, as well, but had given it to her early, as the old one was falling apart. Her mother hadn’t even acknowledged the gift. But of course, she wasn’t acknowledging much of anything these days.
Glancing out the window, Dianne noticed that it had started to snow again. She wondered if the livestock would have enough feed and water should the weather turn bad. She looked at the clock and decided to give it an hour or so and see what happened. She still wasn’t sure how to figure mountain weather. In Missouri she would see certain signs and know it was going to rain or storm. She could determine very accurately how quickly the weather would be upon them. But here in the mountains the elements never seemed to do quite what she thought they would.
She sat stitching and thinking about her life. She wondered if her friends back in Missouri were safe. She’d heard nothing from them and worried that the war had taken its toll on their lives. She wondered, too, about Faith and whether Malachi had survived his ordeal. There’d simply been no chance to find out.
A knock at the door startled her. Dianne put her quilting aside and went to see who it might be. To her surprise it was Griselda Showalter. As much as she despised the woman’s boisterous, pompous attitude, Dianne was actually glad to see her.
“Mrs. Showalter, how nice of you to come.”
“I’m here to see your mother,” she announced, pushing past Dianne in her usual fashion. “Where is she? Is she well? Has the baby come?”
Dianne closed the door, but not before she noted the thick collection of snow on the path leading to their door. With Griselda here she could leave her mother and go tend the animals—maybe even make a trip into town.
“No, the baby hasn’t come,” Dianne said. “Here, let me take your coat and hat.”
Griselda parted with the items readily. “Well, you’re doing quite well for yourself here. I know your brothers are working for the freight company, so I would imagine they’re bringing in plenty of money. Of course, you had money to start with. Your family was probably the most wealthy on the train.”
“Well, we’ve had enough to see us through, but we certainly aren’t wealthy,” Dianne said, not wishing to waste time discussing financial issues with the woman. “Come along and I’ll take you to Mama. By the way, how did you find us?”
“I asked around. The postmaster knew where you’d gone, so he told me. I haven’t had time to get away until now. Too much to do since Percy’s been sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Showalter is ill. I hope it isn’t serious,” Dianne said, knocking on the open door of her mother’s bedroom. “Mama, I’ve brought you a visitor. Look here, it’s Mrs. Showalter.”
Her mother actually opened her eyes. “She’s here?”
Dianne nodded. “Here, let me help you to sit up.”
“Nonsense,” Griselda said. “I can see to her. Go about your business.”
Dianne hated being dismissed, but at the same time she needed to see to the animals. “I’ll be out back tending the livestock if you need me,” she told Griselda.
The woman made no reply to her, instead going immediately to Susannah and hoisting her up, plumping the pillow behind her and chattering on in her usual manner.
“Well, you certainly look worse than the last time I saw you,” Griselda began. “I swear you’re just bones. Doesn’t that girl feed you? I should have thought to bring you some broth. A strong chicken broth would soon set you right as rain.”
Dianne ignored the comments and hurried to check the chickens on the back porch. It was chilly out there, but the hens were still laying, and that was all that counted. Zane had suggested she stack the crates of food and firewood around the chickens in order to insulate them just a bit more. They seemed quite content with the arrangement, and although Dianne had the unpleasant job of cleaning up after them, the porch made a decent coop. After giving the hens feed and water, Dianne hurried to pull on her outdoor things.
Outside, the snow was coming down heavier than ever and the wind had picked up. The skies had turned leaden gray and across the valley she couldn’t even see town because of the snow and low clouds.
She worked to break the ice in the watering trough, a thankless, endless job that had to be done at least twice a day. If she didn’t stay on top of it, the ice froze several inches deep and made it impossible to break without the heavy sledge.
Dianne forked hay into the manger, then checked on the milk cow and Dolly. Thankfully her brothers had taken their horses and oxen. The freight company paid the boys a handsome sum for the use of their team and wagon. It gave them a nice extra bit of money. It also meant that Dianne didn’t have to worry about their feed and shelter.
Dolly whinnied softly and nuzzled Dianne’s hand looking for treats. “Sorry, girl, I didn’t bring you a thing,” Dianne whispered against her ear. She stroked the mare’s mane and gently hugged her neck. “You’re my only friend in all of Montana Territory.”
The snow blinded Dianne as she made her way back to the house. She figured it would be smart for Griselda to leave quickly or otherwise she might lose her way. She went into the bedroom, where the woman was talking softly to her mother.
“Mrs. Showalter, the snow is turning into a blizzard, I fear. You should probably head back home before visibility is impossible.”
Griselda looked at Dianne and then, with a curt nod, got to her feet. “The girl is probably right.”
“Mama, I’m going to fetch some water and heat it for tea. Mrs. Showalter, I’ll get your things.”
Dianne thought the woman might make some snide comment as was her way, but Griselda turned back to her mother instead. “Susannah, I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. I’ll come again to visit.”
“The Indians are everywhere,” her mother muttered incoherently. “They’ve taken my children, you know. I have to find them. I have to find my babies.”
Griselda bid her good-bye, then followed Dianne into the front room. “Has she been like this for long?”
“Just since Uncle Bram refused to take us to his cabin and showed up here with his Indian wife.”
“What! That’s positively scandalous. Why would the man choose an Indian over his own kin?” She allowed Dianne to help her into her coat as she continued. “No wonder your mother has gone all addlepated. Are you giving her anything to help?”
“She’s still taking laudanum. The doctor figured it would keep her calm.”
Griselda nodded. “That’s exactly what I would have done.”
Dianne bit back a comment that perhaps her mother wouldn’t be having delusions of Indians at all if she weren’t taking the medicine. “I’m sure she enjoyed your visit. I hope you’ll come back to see her.” And in truth, Dianne meant every word. It would be nice to have Griselda come and relieve Dianne long enough to allow her to go into town and shop.
“I’ll see myself out. You go about your business.”
“I could walk part of the way with you,” Dianne suggested, hoping she wouldn’t take her up on the offer.
“No, I’m just fine. I’ve been making my way all over this place. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”
Dianne didn’t wish to further offend the woman, so instead she picked up her pail and headed outside. She shook her head sadly as she remembered her mother’s comments. Dianne longed for the days when her mother’s mind was clear and wondered if her sanity would ever return. Dianne wondered, too, what she would do if her mother remained in her stupor.
“Maybe it’s just the laudanum,” she told herself a
s she struggled to get the pump working. “Maybe once the baby comes, she won’t be sad anymore—she’ll want to face life and live for the sake of the infant.” But Dianne wasn’t sure she could take hope even in that idea. Her mother didn’t seem strong enough to sit up in bed without help, much less take care of a child.
When the pail was finally full, Dianne trudged back through the snow to the cabin. She was grateful to have the chores done and to know she’d given it her best. If the cow or Dolly suffered, it wouldn’t be because Dianne hadn’t tried to keep them safe.
She entered the mud porch, shivering from the icy wind that pelted her back. Closing the door, she put the pail down and shed her coat and boots. She hung her heavy wool bonnet by the back door next to the coat. Zane had thoughtfully driven pegs to allow for just such purposes. It made it much easier for Dianne when folks left their muddy things on the porch rather than traipsed through the house. It would also be easier to clean up melted snow from this room than following paths across the cabin.
That thought brought Griselda to mind. The woman had tracked a good amount of snow into the house. Dianne remembered seeing the prints the heavy woman left as she made her way to the bedroom. She sighed. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to just mop the entire house since the floor would already be wet.
Dianne took the water to the stove and put it on the back to warm. She turned to judge the job at hand and noticed that the front door stood wide open. Snow had already begun to accumulate in the threshold.
“How strange.” She brushed the snow out with her broom, then secured the door and latched it tight. The room was very cold and, spying her mother’s open door, Dianne figured she’d better take in another blanket lest she catch a chill.
Going to the trunk, Dianne pulled out a thick wool blanket. It was one they had used on the wagon trail and was in worse shape than some of the others, so Dianne had packed it away until they needed it. She took it in to her mother, then froze in place. The bed was empty.
“Mama!” Dianne tossed the blanket aside and looked around the small room, even looking under the bed in case her mother had fallen from the bed and somehow rolled beneath.
There was no sign of her mother. Dianne went quickly to the front room and looked around. She wasn’t here, that much was clear. The mud porch revealed the same disheartening fact. Going slowly into the front room again, Dianne caught sight of the front door.
“Oh no,” she said, looking outside. “She couldn’t have!”
CHAPTER 21
TRENTON STOOD LOOKING IN THE MIRROR AT THE OUTFIT HE’D just tried on. The crisp lines of the black wool suit fit him as though it had been tailored just for him. The gray striped vest and new white shirt added a special look of refined dignity to the man who only weeks earlier had been so down on his luck he’d had to steal to eat.
“The suit was clearly designed with you in mind, Mr. Chadwick,” the store clerk announced as he appraised him from behind. “It will require very little in the way of adjustments.”
Trenton couldn’t have agreed more. “I’ll need a couple of extra shirts.”
“But of course. Wait here and I’ll see to it.”
Trenton watched as the man disappeared into the back room. Henry had suggested Trenton buy a new wardrobe in order to get into some of the better games. There was a great deal more money to be had in poker than Trenton could have ever imagined. It amazed him that in a time of war so many people would be so willing to part with their cash. But part with it they did. Most of the time Trenton didn’t have to do anything but play well and pay attention. Henry had been right. Most men could be easily read. They would make certain little moves or actions when their hand was good and another set when they held nothing at all.
At the same time Trenton had needed to learn how to read other men, he’d had to practice hard with Henry to learn how to disguise his own reactions. It hadn’t been easy, to be sure.
“Don’t look away from them,” Henry had said, “but when you stare the other players down, do it with such an attitude that suggests you’d just as soon be home takin’ a bath. Look bored, disinterested—it makes them wonder what you’re about, and while they’re busy worrying about what you’re really thinkin’, they won’t be able to pay much attention to their game.”
Trenton thought it an awful lot of nonsense, but he’d become accomplished in a relatively short time and in doing so had doubled his winnings. The extra money changed his mind rather quickly about Henry DuPont.
“Here we are, sir. I’ve wrapped them for you. You can either take them now or come back after we’ve tailored the suit.”
Trenton shook his head. “No, I’m leaving town and don’t have time for tailoring. This fits well enough as it is.”
The clerk, a portly fellow with a balding head and gold-rimmed glasses, nodded. “If that’s what you desire, it’s perfectly fine.”
Trenton smiled. “That’s what I desire.” He liked saying that and getting his way about things. He felt important for the first time in his life. People paid attention to him, seemed to know that he was a force to be reckoned with. Now the clothes would help even more.
He paid for his purchases, pulled on the broad-brimmed black hat he’d purchased only the day before, and nodded to the man. “Thank you for your help.”
Feeling like a new man, Trenton made his way back to the hotel. Henry awaited him there, also dressed in new clothes.
“Well if we ain’t a pair,” Henry announced as Trenton walked through the door. “I swear you could sit down to play a hand with the president himself.”
Trenton laughed. “I seriously doubt President Lincoln plays cards.”
“If he played with you, he’d lose. Of that I am sure.” Henry sauntered over to the window and glanced out. “I have tickets for the riverboat. Had to pay extra for that nag of yours but finally arranged for it.”
“When do we leave?” Trenton questioned, tossing the parcel of shirts into his carpetbag.
“Midnight,” Henry replied. “Enough time to play a few hands up the street if you want. I know of a game going on at the Seymour Hotel. Stakes are high—it’s by invitation only.”
“And we’ve wrangled an invitation?”
“Yes, sir,” Henry answered, looking quite proud of himself. “I let it get around that you’re the grandson of a New York state senator.”
“Ah, I see. A wealthy, nave grandson who’s just taken up an interest in poker, no doubt.”
Henry laughed. “Is there any other kind?”
Trenton looked at the two men who hadn’t yet folded. The one on his right had a nervous tick in his cheek that started up every time he held more than a pair. The man directly across from him was a bit trickier. He generally kept his head down and eyes to the cards. He seemed to try overly hard to keep from revealing himself.
“Well, will you call or fold?” Trenton asked, yawning as if it made no difference to him.
Both men fidgeted a moment before finally giving up the game. Trenton revealed his hand of three nines and pulled in his winnings. It was just too simple. He hadn’t even needed to cheat or use a marked deck.
“You know,” the man at Trenton’s left said to his companions, “there’s news on the plans for the transcontinental railroad. Good money to be made if you get in on some of the small towns going up along the line. I have a large amount of money tied up in a couple of the locations.”
“How did you find out where those locations would be?” the man opposite him questioned. “The line hasn’t even been finalized, as far as I know. Complications keep them changing things here and there.”
“I’m smart,” the first man replied, laughing. He leaned forward as if to share some deep secret. “I’m telling you, the railroad is the future.”
Trenton tried to imagine rails joining the country together. It seemed an impossible task, especially in light of discussions he’d heard about the mountains to the west. How would they ever manage to put a railroad over the Rock
ies?
The idea of traveling from one end of the country to the other in less than a week instead of months fascinated Trenton. He imagined himself going to Montana Territory to visit Dianne, riding in style on rails instead of stages or horseback.
If I ever get to Montana, he thought. He honestly hoped to head that way by spring. Henry had his heart set on going to Omaha in spite of the fact it would no doubt be colder up north. The first part of winter had been mild—some rain and cold temperatures, but not much snow and certainly not enough cold to freeze the waterways. Trenton hadn’t argued with the idea of Omaha; after all, it was closer to Montana. But when Henry started talking about heading to Chicago and New York after that, Trenton flat-out refused.
Henry dealt the next round, laughing and telling tales of his days when he’d been a boy working on some canal line back East. Trenton didn’t pay too much attention to him. The others didn’t know they were traveling companions, and Trenton would just as soon keep it that way.
The round went as easily as the others until they were down to just Trenton, Henry, and the man with the tick. Trenton had nothing of any use in his hands, not even a pair, but he’d learned from Henry that bluffing would often get the pot up.
“Well, boys?” Henry questioned. “I raise you twenty dollars.”
“Well, that’s mighty steep, mister.”
Henry shrugged and Trenton watched the man at his right to see what his response would be. The minutes clicked by as the tick grew more noticeable and perspiration beaded on the man’s upper lip.
Trenton figured him to have a flush. He figured it that way because he’d seen the man’s hand at one point when he’d accidentally moved to accommodate the waiter bringing drinks. There were three hearts in the original hand, and since then Trenton was pretty sure the man had drawn his additional hearts. He figured Henry knew this, or had a good idea of it, but the old man wasn’t backing down, so Trenton figured Henry’s hand had to be even better.
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