Lauraine Snelling - [Wild West Wind 01] (17 page)

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?”

“Thanks. I just feel a pull to try again. When Pa and Lockwood mined it, they found quite a bit of color. How do we know it’s been mined out?”

“Your pa said so—that’s why. Had there been any indication of more after they cleaned out that pocket, he’d have kept on.”

“But what about beyond that cave-in?”

“That put the fear of God in those two men, let me tell you. Lockwood left not much later.”

“You ever hear from him?”

“No. I think I heard that he died a few years ago.”

Ransom tapped the end of his pencil on the edge of the map. “I’m thinking of cutting timbers to shore up the part that collapsed.” When his mother didn’t answer, he looked up at her. Unable to read the expression on her face, he started to ask what was bothering her and for some reason stopped. For years he’d felt there was more to the story of his pa and Lockwood, but his mother had always changed the subject when he asked.

“You better saddle up and fetch Gretchen. It’ll be dark in an hour or so.”

“All right.” He folded his maps and put away the papers he’d been working with, leaving the desk cleared as he always did. “You want to come with me?”

“No, thanks. I need to bake the cake for tomorrow and get a basket ready. But one of these days . . .”

They drove out of the yard before full daylight the next morning. Lucas had thrown in a basket with the cleaned liver, heart, and tongue, and in addition to the dinner basket for the workers, Mavis had included a basket for the family with a pint of rhubarb-and-strawberry jam, several quarts of canned beans, and a bag of dried ones, plus a meaty ham bone for soup.

“You be careful now,” she said as she waved good-bye.

“We probably should have brought a can of milk for the little ones,” Ransom said, hunkering into his sheepskin jacket against the chill. Frost glazed the weeds and grasses along the road.

“It would be butter before we got to town.”

The miles passed with no other comments between them.

Ransom glanced at his brother. This silence was not like him. “You okay?”

Lucas nodded. “This wasn’t the way I planned to spend my day.”

“Me neither. We got plenty to do around the ranch to get ready for winter.”

Houses had sprouted up alongside the road the nearer they drew to town. A dog barked at them but was kept out of the road by a picket fence. They heard the school bell calling the kids in to begin their day. Gretchen had taken the shortcut trail to town, so they hadn’t seen her.

Ransom turned the wagon in to the road that led by the soon-to-be reroofed house and stopped even with it. The two brothers stared at the weathered gray building, and Lucas heaved a sigh.

“Well, let’s get at it. No sense waiting on the others.” A stack of split shingles waited beside the house. While Lucas tied up the horses, Ransom climbed down, picked up the baskets of food for the family, and strode to what could hardly be called a porch. He placed his feet carefully so as not to go through the flooring and knocked at the door. When it opened, he handed the woman the baskets. “These are from Ma, Mrs. Beckwith. Figured you could use some extras.”

“Thank you, Mr. Engstrom.” A small child with a runny nose and bare feet peeked out from behind her skirt.

“Well, we better get started. Thought we’d put a new post in for the porch first thing.”

“That is most kind of you.” Her soft voice still wore a bit of her southern beginnings.

The two brothers got the post measured and cut to fit and then tried to figure how to slide it into place beside the broken one.

“We need something to prop that roof beam up a couple of inches so we can fit it.”

Lucas looked around. “Nothing around here.”

“Can we jack up the old post?”

“With what? Shoulda brought some more lumber along.”

“Now you say so.” Ransom felt like saying more, but what he was thinking was not kind.

“Here, let’s take the nails out of the bottom of this. I’ll lift it and you slide a couple of those shingles under it.”

Ransom stared at his brother and gave a slow nod. “Pull the nails out if you can find them. I’ll get the shingles.”

“This thing is so rotten we can prob’ly just kick it loose.”

“And have the whole porch down on our heads.”

Ransom could hear Lucas digging into the post with the claw of his hammer. If he had any sense, he’d have known to bring some extra supplies, just in case. He snapped the tie around the bundle of shakes and picked up a handful. Standing upright, he saw a little child watching him through a window that shone in the sunlight. They might be poor, but the missus did her best to care for her family. The names he called the father of this household were best kept inside.

“Think I got ’em all.” Lucas laid the nails on the floor where they wouldn’t step on them. While they were a bit bent, they could be straightened and used again. “You ready?”

Ransom nodded and, with Lucas holding the old post, gave it a kick. Sure enough, they just might be able to do this.

Lucas grinned at him. “Told you so.” He wrapped his gloved hands around the base of the post, and bending his knees, he put all his strength into the job. The roof frame shrieked and screamed.

Ransom glanced up to check if it was safe.

“Hurry up!”

He shoved the narrow edge of the shingle under the post. “Okay, relax.”

“We need another?”

“Think so.”

They repeated the process, and this time every nail in the roof screeched in agony. Ransom shoved the second shingle into place.

“Do we need a third?”

“Let’s try to slide that new one in. We shoulda peeled it first.”

“We’ll let the kids do that.” Together they set the new post next to the old one and, with one of them at the top and the other on the bottom, eased the post into place, using hammer blows to finish the job.

“Well, how about that?” Lucas grinned at his brother and extended his hand. “Good job.”

After a shake they straightened the nails, using a flat rock in the yard, nailed the new post securely, and gave the old post a shove. It toppled right out into the yard, and when it hit the ground, it split in half, the jagged rotten ends mute testimony to the short lifespan it had remaining.

“Fine job there, you two,” Pastor Brandenburg said from the street. “I was wondering how we would safely roof that porch.”

“Thanks. We’re putting the new shingles right over the old ones, right?”

“Seems that would be best.”

“Who else is coming?”

“Well, two more, I’m hoping, but we’d best get started. Glad to see you brought a ladder.”

“Let’s get a couple bundles up there, although we can nail the first rows on from the ladder.” Ransom shoved the handle of his hammer into the belt of his pants, grabbed a bundle out of the square, and climbed the ladder. “You hand them to Lucas on the ladder, and Lucas can hand them up to me.”

“Good idea. One thing for sure, they never taught us about roofing at the seminary.” Within a few minutes all three had taken off their jackets and hung them over the wagon. They were about done getting the shingles up on the roof when two more church members strolled in, carrying another ladder.

“You want us to take the other side?” Sig, the barber in town, asked.

“Good. We can all carry half the stack around to the other side.”

“Scaffolding would have been a good idea,” Ransom said to his brother. “At least for these first rows.”

“Oh well. We should be done before dark anyways. How this shanty can hold all those kids is beyond me.”

Ransom nodded, real grateful at the moment for the spacious log house they lived in.

The ring of hammers on nails took up a rhythm, leaving not a lot of time for talking. Soon Mrs. Beckwith came out with a coffeepot and cups. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.”

After a short break, the men went at it again, now with Ransom and Lucas up on the roof. Sig called for something from the other side, and Lucas walked across the roof to answer.

A screech of wood sounded, and before anyone had time to blink, he’d fallen through the roof up to his armpits. When the last of the broken pieces of shingles and debris clattered to the floor, Lucas let out a groan that could be heard clear to the store two blocks away.

L
ucas, are you all right?”

“I think so. I can’t believe I fell through like this—the wood was so rotten.”

Ransom could hear the children screaming in the house and their mother trying to calm them. “You think we should pull you up or pull you down?” He stared at his brother, propped on his elbows. “You bleeding anywhere?”

Pastor Brandenburg charged around the house and climbed up the ladder but remained standing on the second to the top rung. “Thank God you’re not terribly hurt.”

Ransom studied the remainder of his side of the roof. “We’re going to need to replace more than we thought.”

“Forget the roof, brother. Help me get out of here.”

“Can you lever yourself up?” the pastor asked.

“Or if you raised your arms above your head, could you slide through?”

“How about letting me off the roof, Pastor, and I’ll go inside to see what I can find.” Ransom didn’t dare look the man in the face, because he was fighting so hard to keep himself from laughing.

“Oh, of course.”

“Will you hurry up, Ransom? My shoulders are killing me.”

“Hang on to your hat. I’m not the one who fell through the roof.” His snort might have given him away if Lucas wasn’t heading toward a temper blowout. Ransom made his way down the ladder and into the house, where his brother’s legs were dangling through the shattered roof. He smiled at the children and walked around to view the problem from all sides. Lucas’s jacket was bunched up under his arms. If they could scoot the table over, perhaps he could help push him back up or pull him through.

“Can we move your table over here?”

“A’course.” The woman motioned the children out of the way, and she and Ransom moved the table directly under the hanging feet.

“I think we should pull you through,” he called up to his brother. “I’ll be on the table and can help lower you.”

“Can’t you push me up? If I stand on your shoulders, could I push myself back up to the roof?”

“We can try it, but I have the table in place right now.”

“Well, move it.”

Ransom half shrugged, and he and the missus moved the table over. He grabbed his brother’s booted feet and bent over to place them on his shoulders. “Okay, I’m going to stand up now.”

“I’m ready.”

As Ransom stood, Lucas bent his knees, then pushed hard enough to make Ransom stumble. “Sorry. I’m braced better now.” They tried it again.

“Okay, I’m standing.”

“Hurry up. You’re heavy.”

“Throw me a rope.”

Ransom gritted his teeth, feeling like he was being driven down into the floor. He heard the rope scrabble on the roof and felt his brother putting more pressure on one foot than the other. “Hurry up.” Ransom knew it sounded more like a groan than an order.

“Got it. I’m tying it around my chest.”

Ransom felt every shift of weight like nails driven into his shoulders.

“All right, Pastor, you two pull, and I’ll see if I can lever myself out.”

“Lord, give me strength.” Ransom staggered under the load as Lucas shifted his weight again. The roof squealed and squalled. Pieces of shingles and rotten roofing rained down into the house. But Lucas’s feet disappeared through the hole, letting the blue sky show through. Ransom braced his arms on the tabletop and fought to catch his breath. When he could talk, he forced a smile for the children, nodded to the missus, and staggered outside to lean against the newly installed porch post. As attractive went, it failed miserably, but it held up the porch roof just fine. And at the moment—him.

After a few more deep inhales, Ransom walked around to the side of the house, where the men were staring up at the gaping hole.

“You got any more lumber, Pastor?”

“I’ll have to go by the lumberyard. Maybe they’ll donate some. We need to figure out what we need first.”

“We’ll need to pull the shingles off and see how far the rot goes. Best thing would be to pull it all off and start over.”

“I know, but we can’t afford that.” Pastor Brandenburg scratched his chin.

“Who owns the house?”

“They do.”

Ransom nodded. “I see.” So where was the mister while they were working on his house? At the saloon already or passed out somewhere? How did the woman tolerate it? Or better yet, why did she put up with such goings-on?

Brandenburg leaned closer. “She’s afraid, Ransom, and until she can find some backbone, things will most likely stay this way.”

Ransom swallowed. Flashes of when he was a small boy and his father had been drinking made him sigh. “She needs to talk with my mother.”

Brandenburg nodded. “I’ll go see about some lumber. You two figure out how much we’re going to have to rebuild.”

“He fell between two rafters. I think those are good, so just get us a bunch of spacers, those one-by-threes. Take our wagon.”

The pastor climbed up into the wagon seat. “Back as quick as I can.”

Sig and the other man kept working on their side of the building, making sure they put their weight only on the rafters, while Ransom and Lucas climbed carefully back up on their side. Taking care to keep their weight on the rafters also, they used the claw of their hammers to pull away the rotted shingles around the hole.

“When they built this, they should have put the rafters closer together,” Lucas said as they worked. He stuck the claw in another piece of one-by-four that crumbled. The hole grew bigger.

“Looks to be clear up to the roof peak.” By the time they reached solid wood all around they had a five-foot section to the peak that continued for about two rafters either way. Shingles rained down on the yard, and a lot of debris fell into the house.

The pastor drove back up, stepped down, and tied up the horses. “They said to bring back whatever we don’t use.” He stared up at the cleaned-out hole. “I doubt we’ll finish today. How about we have some dinner before we tackle that?” He wandered over to look at the other side of the building. “You men are doing a fine job. Come on down and let’s eat.” He returned to the wagon and pulled out a basket. “My wife sent over some dinner for us.”

“Ma did too.” Ransom and Lucas climbed down the ladder and stopped to stare up at their handiwork. “No way can we finish this today.”

“Well, we’ll have one side done and a good part of the other. Hope I can get some more men to finish it off tomorrow.” He set his basket down on the tailgate of the wagon, and Ransom pulled his out from behind the seat.

After the pastor said grace, they dug into ham sandwiches, potato salad, and various other foods found in the baskets, topping it off with coffee brought out by Molly Beckwith, the woman of the house.

When the Engstrom brothers left for home, the sun was close to setting, and the roof was about three-quarters completed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Pastor assured them as they climbed into the wagon. “I’ll find someone to finish this.”

“Why can’t that lazy lout of a husband of hers do at least a part of the repairs on that house?” Lucas grumbled. “We keep bailing him out, he’ll never do his part.”

“I, for one, didn’t want to hear him yelling at her today, so I was glad he wasn’t there,” Ransom said. “Do you think he beats her?”

“He sounds awful mean when he gets riled up. Maybe watching someone else do his work is easier on her and the kids than putting up with him.”

Ransom kicked his boot against the footboard in front of them, then pulled off his boot and dumped a bunch of wood bits over the side, watching them join the roiling dust from the wheels. “Hope that’s the last we see of that mess.” He pulled his boot back on and stomped on the floorboards.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” Lucas said.

“And?”

“You know, when Pa used to drink. What made him stop?”

Ransom wanted to say he didn’t know, but if he let himself remember back, he did know. He’d not been able to fall asleep that night because his pa wasn’t home, and he knew when the man had been out that late, he would come home liquored up. Drunk and loud and yelling. But that time . . .

“You know?”

Ransom nodded. “You were just a baby, and I must have been five or six. I heard him come home and hid behind the door to the kitchen. I could see through the crack between the door and the frame.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Terrified. I’d get a whipping if I got caught, but something drew me there that night. Pa was banging around in the kitchen, and Ma just sat in her chair, watching him. When he stumbled over a suitcase, he swore a mile long and then asked where she was going.” Ransom rested his wrists on his knees, his feet braced against the footboard. With a sigh, he continued. “Ma said it wasn’t for her, it was for him. If he ever drank and got drunk again, she would bar him from the ranch.”

“How would she do that?”

“I don’t know, but he gave the suitcase a kick and then went to stare out the window. It got so quiet I was sure they would hear me breathing. She pushed a paper across the table. ‘It says in here that you will take the money that is waiting for you at the bank and leave town. You talked about going to California to the gold fields, and this is your chance.’

“ ‘You can’t do this, keep me away from the ranch,’ ” he said.

“ ‘Try me,’ Ma said. ‘I need a place to raise our boys, and I’d much rather they had a father here to help with that, but this is your last chance.’

“He sputtered and stomped back to the table, grabbed up that piece of paper, and read it through before laying it down on the table. ‘You can’t do this,’ Pa said again.”

“What did the letter say?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never seen it again.”

“So what happened next?”

“Pa sat down at the table and stared at his hands. He sat there for the longest time. I think he was stone sober by then, the way he acted.” Ransom could see his father sitting at that table, plain as if it had happened the night before. “Then he picked up that paper, folded it, and handed it to Ma. ‘We’ll never speak of this again,’ he said. His voice was so soft, I could hardly hear him.

“Ma nodded and took the paper. ‘I pray we never have to,’ she answered. Then she asked him if he wanted a piece of pie. She fixed him the pie and poured him some coffee, and when she turned back to the stove, I heard her give a sigh that came clear from her toes. I could tell she was praying. I’m sure she had done a lot of praying over this.”

“And he never drank again?”

“Not that I know of.”

“And you really don’t know what was on the paper?”

“Nope. But he changed after that. It was like a lot of the mean drained out of him that night.”

“He was still mighty strict.”

“Yes, he was. But he wasn’t mean.” Ransom clucked the horses to pick up the pace, and they turned into the lane to the ranch house at the same time as the moon rose over the eastern hills, bathing the valley in light and shadow as it rose higher in the sky.

“The elk are back.”

Ransom gazed across the pasture to where the elk had mingled with the cattle, many of them grazing, some lying down. What a beautiful sight. His breath formed a white cloud in front of him. The moon was bright, but it shed no warmth to the dropping temperature. “Freeze tonight.”

“Good thing for that hanging meat.”

“It’s only been up for a day.”

“Let it go two or three more. There’s that old apple tree that came down in that storm last spring. We can use some of that for smoking.”

“Is it dry enough?”

“Parts are.”

Ransom didn’t say anything for a time, and then put it out. “Now you know why it bothers Ma so much when you stop at the saloon. Gambling and drinking are two things she just can’t abide.”

Lucas didn’t answer.

“You think on it, and you think real good.” He drove the wagon up to the corral fence by the barn and stopped. “Tell Ma we’re here, and I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“You tell her. I’ll put away the team.”

Ransom stepped down and headed for the house.
Please, Lord, let him pay attention.

“Ransom!”

He turned and stared at his brother, who was beckoning him back to the barn. He looked to the house and back to his brother. “Coming,” he called. “This better be important,” he muttered on the way. “I’m hungry.”

Lucas was hanging up the harness. He paused, heaved a sigh, and turned. “I never came home real drunk.”

I’d rather you said you never
got
real drunk, but this isn’t my story.
He shrugged. “Seemed you were a couple of times. Remember when you fell over the coffee table and knocked yourself out?”

“I remember the falling part.”

“And the time you fell asleep in the wagon in the barn?”

“Okay, I get the picture. At least I’m not mean when I’ve been drinking.”

“No, you’re the life of the party.”

The team stomped and snorted, wanting to be let out.

“There’s nothing wrong with a drink or two. Even the Bible says drink some wine.”

“For your stomach is what Paul was referring to. It also says some stern stuff against drunkenness. Ma made me look all those passages up the time I came home with a couple under my belt.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“Can’t stand the hurt in her eyes. I know I’m a lot like Pa, but I sure didn’t want to be like him in that respect.”
Now if I could just get this ranch back to the successes of his day.
The thought sneaked in and bit. He watched Lucas check the sheeting wrapped around the elk carcass.