The Coming Storm (18 page)

Levi motioned at her ham steak. “You gonna eat that?”

Dianne shook her head. “You want it?” The words were scarcely out of her mouth before Levi forked the steak and had it on his plate. Dianne’s mouth dropped open and Gabe laughed at Levi’s antics.

“You learn fast in the bunkhouse to keep your arm out of the range of Levi’s fork,” Gabe said, helping himself to more biscuits and gravy.

The waitress returned, made small talk with the boys, then took Dianne’s money for the meal. When Dianne saw that Levi had cleared his plate for a second time, she took the opportunity to stand. “You boys needn’t hurry on my account.” Both men stood quickly, however.

“We’re ready, Miz Dianne. I’ll go on down to the livery and have those two horses waiting for your inspection,” Levi said, grabbing up his hat. “I’ll have our horses saddled too.”

“And I’ll head over to Bradley’s and then the feed store,” Gabe offered, taking up his brown felt. “I’ll drive the wagon on over to the mercantile.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the livery, Levi,” Dianne instructed. “I just want to see about some fabric for a new dress for Susannah first. Oh, and Gabe, you might pick up a pound of peppermints. That long ride home gets pretty dusty and I’m thinking the treat might just come in handy.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Gabe said with noted enthusiasm. Dianne knew he had a sweet tooth and would appreciate the candy.

With the men heading in different directions, Dianne walked slowly down the boardwalk, taking in the sights. There was a lot of bustle and activity. Freighters moved up and down the wide main street at a surprisingly steady pace. All around her folks were preparing for winter and the coming snow.

“Well, if it ain’t Dianne Chadwick,” a thick female voice sounded from behind her.

Dianne turned around to find Griselda Showalter, an annoying woman she’d met on the wagon train.

“Hello, Mrs. Showalter. How are you?” Dianne asked politely. She had no desire to make small talk with the obnoxious woman—the woman Dianne still held partly responsible for the destruction and death of her mother. In fact, it wasn’t until that exact moment, seeing the rotund woman with her graying hair pulled back in its tight little bun, that Dianne realized just how angry she was with Griselda.

“Don’t look like the years have been as cruel to you as they have to me,” Griselda replied. “Guess some of us are tougher than others. We can take the hard life—while others are meant to have it easy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dianne asked without thinking.

“I heard you have a pretty good life now. Living on a fine ranch with servants and plenty,” Griselda stated, lifting her chin in a defiant stance. “Some of us ain’t had it that easy.”

Dianne thought of all the pain and misery she’d known since coming to Montana. She thought about losing her sisters and mother—about losing Bram and not knowing what had happened to Cole. She even thought of her brothers all going their separate ways and of the emptiness their absence had left in her heart. Then memories of the hard work came to mind. Thoughts of all the times she’d worked fifteen-hour days to get things accomplished. Long hours with cold winds and snow in the winter and searing sun and heat in the summer.

“We all heard about the big house being built. Some say your uncle is spending upwards of ten thousand dollars to build that house.”

“I suppose you haven’t heard that my uncle passed on a few days back. He was attacked by a grizzly bear while enjoying the easy life you speak of,” Dianne said sarcastically.

“No need to take that tone with me, girlie. You ain’t had to live in the shanties or work with your hands just to eat. You ain’t suffered through what the rest of us have.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Dianne said, barely controlling her temper, “and neither have you any knowledge of the life I’m leading or living. Folks really oughtn’t talk about what they know nothing about.”

“Percy’s dead,” Griselda said without fanfare or warning.

Dianne bit her lip and calmed her angry nerves. “I’m sorry for that. When did he pass?”

Griselda showed no emotion. “Last winter. He was always a sickly man. Couldn’t manage farm life. Couldn’t manage much of anything but bookwork. I figured when we came west it would do him in.”

“Then why did you force him to come?” Dianne blurted out, realizing too late how cruel her words were.

Griselda shrugged her shoulders. “Hoped it would make a man of him. Instead, it killed him. No surprise there.”

Dianne was shocked by her lack of feeling. “So are you and the children still managing the farm?”

“Hardly. We moved back to town. Can’t run a farm without a man.”

Dianne noted that Gabe was heading back from Bradley’s. “I’m sorry, Griselda, but one of our ranch hands is heading to pick up the last of the supplies and I need to help with this. You have my condolences regarding Percy.”

She didn’t wait for Griselda to say anything more, but the older woman called after her. “Maybe the children and I will ride out to see you sometime. Catch up on old times.”

Dianne refused to reply. If she opened her mouth, she knew the only thing that would come out would be harsh and ugly. “Gabe!” she called instead, hurrying to catch up. “Wait for me.”

It had been a strange experience to revisit the past with Griselda. The woman didn’t look a bit healthy. Her once ruddy peach complexion was rather ashen and drawn. Dianne knew life in Montana had taken its toll on the woman who was used to being in charge. No doubt she was unnerved by so much being out of her control—the weather, the land—even Percy’s death.

“I’m glad you decided to ride with me a ways,” Levi said as he drove the mules down the road. “I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about.”

Dianne pushed aside her thoughts and met Levi’s sweet boyish expression. He seemed eternally young; even the hard ranch life hadn’t robbed him of his joyful expression and charm. “I’m surprised Gabe let you have the wagon. He usually prefers to drive rather than ride.” She looked ahead to where Gabe rode.

“I told him it was important, that I needed to talk with you,” Levi said, then cleared his throat nervously. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. What did you want to discuss?”

“I’m wondering if you’d thought about what you’d do if Cole doesn’t come back.”

The comment took her so off guard that Dianne was actually left speechless for several moments. Levi took advantage of the situation to continue.

“I mean, if he doesn’t return—if the worst has happened, well . . . what do you think you’ll do? You own the ranch now. Everyone knows that and no doubt there are gonna be men come a-courtin’ to try and steal the Diamond V from you.”

“I have no intention of letting anyone steal anything from me,” Dianne replied rather curtly.

“Didn’t mean to make you mad, Miz Dianne. It’s just that . . well, I want you to know that I’m here. That I’ll see to you and if Cole doesn’t come back . . . I’d like you to consider me as a suitor.”

Dianne grimaced and looked away. She didn’t want to hurt Levi’s feelings, but she also had no desire to have this conversation. “Look, Levi. I appreciate your concern, and I thank you for it. I’m not ready, however, to think about the possibility that Cole might not return. I’m not yet ready to believe him . . gone.”

“But there’s always that possibility, Miz Dianne.”

“Yes,” she said, looking past Gabe to the snow-covered mountains. “Yes, there’s always that possibility.”

The next day, after they’d returned to the ranch, Dianne found herself having a similar conversation with Charity Hammond. Dianne had delivered some of the supplies she’d picked up for the couple and found Charity a welcoming friend.

“You’ll never guess who I saw yesterday,” Dianne said, sitting down to share company with her friend.

“Well, let’s see,” Charity said, looking upward as if pondering the matter. “No, I suppose I haven’t a clue.”

“Griselda Showalter.”

“Mercy, I wouldn’t have guessed it for all the gold,” Charity declared. “How was she? Did you also see Percy?”

“No, Mr. Showalter died last winter—at least that’s what Griselda told me. I found myself feeling so angry at her that I could scarcely listen to what she had to say.”

“Why are you feeling so angry toward her?”

Dianne lowered her gaze. “I still blame her for the role she played in my mother’s death—in her dependence on laudanum.

I didn’t realize how mad I was about the whole thing until I came face-to-face with her. She was still her harsh, bitter self, and her attitude toward me was that I was nothing more than a snippet of a girl who wasn’t entitled to even have an opinion.”

“Griselda Showalter doesn’t think anyone’s entitled to an opinion, except for herself,” Charity replied. She put sugar and cups on the table, then went back to the counter for the teapot.

“She said she and the children are living in town. I can’t imagine how they’re getting by, and frankly I don’t really care.

They can all sit there and . . . well, they can all sit there.”

“Can’t be holding it against the little ones. Their mama’s the one who doesn’t seem to get along with anyone. I thought the children were pretty decent—given what they were exposed to.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Dianne fell silent for a moment, then began again. “Griselda accused me of having it easy—of living the good life while she suffers.”

“You probably do have a better life than anything she’s been allowed,” Charity said, bringing a delicate china teapot to the table.

Dianne admired the ivory piece for a moment, noting the dainty posies painted in reds, oranges, and pinks. She looked up and blurted out, “I’ve suffered—maybe not in losing a husband or children, but I’ve suffered. I’ve lost most of my family, and that should count for something.”

Charity took a seat and smiled. “Didn’t know you and Griselda were having a contest.”

Dianne frowned. “It wasn’t a contest. It’s just that Griselda thinks I’m out here living an easy life.”

“Why do you care what she thinks? You have no respect for the woman, and frankly, she’s done nothing to deserve any. Why does it matter what she says or thinks or does?”

Dianne realized Charity was right. “It just hurt, that’s all.

Uncle Bram’s death is so fresh, and I still don’t know what’s happened to Cole.”

“It must be hard for you—waiting and watching. Has there been no other word from your young man?”

“Nothing,” Dianne admitted. “I can’t pretend I’m not scared half to death for him. Especially after being in town and hearing all the gruesome stories about troubles on the plains—especially in the area where Cole and the wagon train were to pass. There were reports that a wagon train had been attacked somewhere north of Cheyenne. I can’t help but worry that it might have been Cole’s.”

Charity poured a cup of tea for Dianne and one for herself.

“And what will you do if it was and he’s gone?”

Dianne shook her head. “I don’t know.” She picked up the cup and stared at the contents, as if she could read the answer in the tea. “Levi asked me that same question yesterday. I had no more of an answer for him than I have for you.”

“It’s a very real possibility. One that none of us likes to think about, but one that may very well come to pass.”

Dianne swirled the tea and nodded. “I know,” she barely whispered. “I keep thinking of Cole . . . wondering what’s happened. I vacillate between hoping that rather than be dead at the hand of Indians or because of sickness, he’s just run off with another woman.” She lifted her gaze to Charity and added, “Then I find myself feeling much kinder toward his death than his unfaithfulness. Isn’t that just awful?”

Charity chuckled. “Spoken like a true woman. You’ve grown up these last six years.”

“To be sure. Sometimes I don’t even remember that little girl who came west. I was such a child. Do you know I packed satin dancing slippers in my trunk? Mama told us to take what was important to us—what we could fit in our trunks. I still don’t know why I took them. I guess there was something in me that found them important, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it was.”

“Maybe it was your girlish hopes and dreams. Every woman wants to have some beauty in her life. Maybe you thought the slippers would give you that.”

“But I have only to step out the door to see beauty,” Dianne replied. She put the teacup down and leaned back in her chair.

“Maybe it was the simplicity they represented. Maybe it was knowing what was expected of me and being able to live up to those expectations.”

“But now all of that has changed,” Charity stated more than questioned.

Dianne nodded. “Now I’m responsible for the ranch and a herd of over six hundred head. I have people living here who are dependent upon my actions and my making the right choices.”

“But you’re just as dependent upon them,” Charity replied.

“If their choices are poor, you will suffer. If their decisions are good, then you benefit. It’s because you’re all here together— working as one body. Like the Good Book says, the body needs all its parts to make it work right. You are the head of this ranch, but you need the others to get things done. You aren’t alone in this unless you choose to be.”