The Coming Storm (22 page)
Dianne walked through the unfinished structure that was to one day be her wing of the house.
She held up a lantern to better view the structure. “But there will never be a family without Cole at my side. I can’t even imagine it as so,” she murmured. The bare skeletal framework had been finished enough to keep out the winter snows and some of the cold, but it would need a great deal of work before it bore any real resemblance to comfortable rooms.
Dianne sighed and leaned against a very crude doorframe. “I can’t live in the past. If Cole is dead, then I must go on. I owe it to those who are still living.” Dianne thought of her youth and the years she’d spent in Missouri. How simple life had been. She had her friends and her parties and fun. She was spoiled, though at the time she couldn’t see it. She despised book learning— hated the hours sitting in school, struggling to memorize dates and perfect her handwriting.
Her father taught her to keep the books for the store, and while that was better than schoolwork and not nearly as taxing to Dianne’s mind, she never had any real appreciation for the benefits such a job allowed her.
Those days seemed a thousand years ago. Long before she’d met Faith and Charity—ages and ages before coming to live with Koko and Uncle Bram.
“I know I must survive, Lord,” she began to pray. “I know you have brought me here for a reason, but that reason is far from my understanding.”
She moved back toward the finished portion of the second floor. Here she took one of the bedrooms that would one day be given to guests who came to visit. Beyond that room and down the other wing, Koko and her children shared several rooms. It was hard to believe that Susannah was already a year old. The little girl was a handful. She’d begun to walk just a week before Christmas, and now, as Koko said, there would be no holding her back.
Dianne lingered a moment longer, then headed downstairs to the main part of the house. It was late and the lonely silence of the house filled Dianne with a sense of sorrow and regret. At times like this, sleep was hard to find. The longing in her heart overwhelmed everything else—even the need for rest.
Walking quietly through the house, Dianne marveled at the fine woodwork Bram had arranged for, as well as the lovely stone fireplace in the large front gathering room. They had enjoyed a large fire earlier in the evening, but now there were only embers. Nevertheless, Dianne placed the lantern on the mantel and knelt on the floor in front of the hearth. She held out her hands to capture the last bits of heat. The house was growing colder by the minute, but this one last vestige of the fire’s warmth seemed to bolster her weary soul.
Dianne whispered a verse from the first chapter of Nahum. “‘The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.’ ” Surely these were days of trouble. Surely no other time called for her trust as much as this moment.
She leaned her head against the warm stones. “I do trust you, Lord. I’m just not sure where you are leading me—or whether I’ll want to be there when I learn the destination. Help me to endure what comes . . . to abandon my fears and think only of the hope I have in you.”
At breakfast the next morning, Dianne sat down at her usual place. She couldn’t bring herself to take Bram’s seat at the head of the table. Neither could Koko. Dianne had encouraged Koko to take her rightful position as head of the family and the ranch, but it wasn’t a position Koko wanted.
“It wouldn’t be fair to my children,” she told Dianne one evening. “They would come to see me in a position of authority, and when the rest of the white world did not also honor that, they would grow angry and confused. I do not wish to see my son grow up bitter and resentful.”
But Dianne wondered how the children could help but feel that way as they grew old enough to understand the truth. After all, the day would come when Jamie would face the prejudices Koko feared. He’d one day have to be told that he had no right to the land his father had settled. He’d learn that because Blackfoot blood ran in his veins, he would not even be considered a citizen of the United States.
How could bitterness then be avoided?
Dianne wondered.
Faith served up a fine meal of fried ham and potatoes, and after everyone enjoyed their fill, the men drifted off to their duties. Charity and Faith remained in the dining room, along with Koko and the children. Jamie played quietly in the corner while Susannah nursed at her mother’s breast.
“I wondered if we might speak for a few minutes,” Dianne said as Charity got to her feet and started clearing the table. “Can you remain a short time?”
“Of course, Dianne,” the older woman said, retaking her seat. “What did you wish to discuss?”
Dianne sat down without ceremony and drew a deep breath. “Our future.”
Faith looked intrigued, while Koko appeared to be lost in thought.
“Dealing with the future is a business I’m well familiar with,” Charity laughed. “ ’Cept we look more into the eternal future.”
Dianne and Faith both chuckled, but Koko looked at Dianne, her dark eyes searching Dianne’s face. “What do you have in mind?” she asked softly.
“Well, I wanted to ask that very question of you, Koko,” Dianne began. “We have a ranch to run, and we have some decisions to make before spring rolls around.” Dianne paused and lowered her voice as if in respect for the dead. “I know Bram has only been gone a short time, but he’d be the first one to tell us that life out here stops for no man. Not Uncle Bram—not Cole Selby.”
The mention of Cole’s name sobered every face at the table. Koko’s expression grew sympathetic. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I haven’t even stopped to think of how his absence has hurt you.”
“I won’t lie to you, my dearest friends. I’m terrified that he’s dead and at the same time know that if he’s not dead, he’s changed his mind about us and hasn’t had the guts or gumption to tell me.” Her words were frank, almost rehearsed, but Dianne knew she had to keep her momentum going or she might well give way to emotion.
“Cole should have been home last September. There have been multiple reports of wagon trains attacked and destroyed by Indians. I have to allow for the fact that Cole may have met with a fate such as this. It’s a very real possibility.”
“We have to have hope,” Faith said softly.
“Yes,” Charity agreed. “And faith that God has Cole in His care.”
Dianne appreciated their words, but she’d already told herself all of this. “I know, but here again, decisions have to be made. Gus has agreed to stay on. He has no desire to go anywhere else or work for anyone else. That’s definitely to our benefit, agreed?”
Koko nodded and shifted the now sleeping baby. “Most definitely. Bram had great confidence in Gus. He would always consult Gus about important matters. He said Gus was the best man for the job and knew much about ranching.”
“The herd is growing every year. Gus thinks next year we’ll be able to sell off quite a few steers to the army. That will increase our revenue and allow us to hire workers to finish the house. I know this place was important to Uncle Bram. It was his dream, and I’d like to see it finished. Beyond that, Gus said we should look to expanding the bunkhouse and taking on a few more year-round workers. I figure Gus knows best about these things, and I’m inclined to heed his requests.”
“I agree,” Faith said, putting in her thoughts. “Malachi says that man knows more about horses and cattle than a human being ought to know. I’m glad he’s staying on. As for me and Malachi, well, you know our intentions. We want to stay on and make a home here. We are pleased to be a part of the Diamond V. Pleased to have jobs we enjoy. I like cooking for the men. I can even keep meals for everyone here at the house—’course, that’s up to you and Koko. I don’t want either one of you to feel like I’m stepping out of line. If you’ll let me, though, I’d be happy to keep everyone fed.”
Dianne looked to Koko. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“Certainly. I have nothing but praise for Faith. She saved my Susannah from death when I was too sick to care for her, and Jamie adores her.” She looked to Faith and actually smiled. “I love you like a sister.”
“I feel the same way. Not many places in this world where a Negro would be welcome to sit at the same table as white folks. You’ve all made me feel as though the color of my skin doesn’t matter.”
“To us, it doesn’t,” Charity agreed. “I’m pleased to be a part of an establishment where people are judged by their actions rather than their skin color or education or even gender. I look at you three and feel a deep pride—almost like a mama. I knew Dianne when she was just a slip of girl who didn’t even know how to thread a needle. I’ve watched you all work together and pray together, and I’m proud to be a part of this family and this ranch. Ben and I feel it’s important to stay and put down roots— establish a church right here in the valley. I’m here to help in whatever way I can.” She paused. “I guess I’m best with a needle, so if you’d allow me, I’d be happy to do the mending and sewing for the ranch. I know we’ll probably all need to pitch in on it from time to time, but I’m still pretty quick with my work, despite my rheumatism.”
Dianne laughed. “I’ll bet you are.”
“Dianne’s gotten very good at her sewing,” Koko put in. “When she first came here she was very capable, but over the years she’s really learned to master her skills.”
“I’m better with a horse, though.” Dianne couldn’t help but make this statement. Truth be told, she’d rather be outside working with the livestock on any given day, rather than sewing or cooking. She was pleased that her friends were volunteering for the jobs they loved the best.
“Our herd of horses has grown considerably. Gus has given me good ideas for breeding stronger, more efficient animals. The army is always in need of good horseflesh, and Gus believes we can make a good amount of money in rounding up wild horses and bringing them in to break. I think he’s absolutely right. Gus even has a couple of friends he’d like to bring up here to help. They’re the best in horse-breaking, as far as Gus is concerned.” “So you will work with the horses and cattle,” Koko said thoughtfully.
Dianne shrugged. “Guess so. I can also keep the books. Uncle Bram taught me about that early on—right after he found out I kept books for Papa.” She smiled. “Uncle Bram didn’t care for bookkeeping any more than I did, but at least it was something I could do to help.”
“Where does that leave me?” Koko asked.
Dianne smiled. “Where would you like it to leave you? There’s still plenty to be done, and you hold some very valuable skills that none of the rest of us can boast.”
Koko shook her head. “I don’t know how I can be much good to anyone.”
Jamie came to his mother and put his head against her. “You’re good, Mama.” He patted her hand and repeated the words. The action nearly brought tears to Dianne’s eyes. She hadn’t stopped to think how much or how little Jamie might be hearing.
“Yes, you are a good mama,” Dianne said softly. “You’re also very gifted in leatherwork, something the rest of us aren’t that experienced with. You make many valuable products for the ranch, and if you choose, you could go on making them.”
Koko nodded. “I like working with the hides. I’d be happy to continue with that. I also like to garden and can the fruit and vegetables we grow. So when spring comes, I could plant the garden and can our food.”
“I help plant too,” Jamie said in a very serious manner.
Dianne smiled, realizing how neatly God had ordered this gathering. “See there? We each have these great skills—needed skills. We make quite a grand collection of workers.”
“I’ll say!” Gus drawled as he came into the dining room from the kitchen.
“Gus! When did you get back?”
“Just now. I rode a storm across the valley and barely beat it in.”
“How bad of a storm?” Dianne questioned. “Do we need to make provision?”
“I don’t think we need to do anything more than we’ve already prepared for. I think we’ll be just fine nestled up here. Probably snow—maybe heavy, but nothing we can’t handle, eh, ladies?” The weathered cowboy grinned and winked. His confidence bolstered Dianne once again.
“Absolutely,” she said, nodding. “We can do all things through Christ.”
Koko nodded, stroking the head of her boy with one hand and cradling her daughter with the other. “Yes, all things through Christ.”
“That’s where the strength is,” Charity added. “We get our strength for all things through the Lord.”
Gus laughed. “Ain’t nothin’ can drag us down. We’re workin’ for God hisself and ain’t no one able to go interferin’ with that.”
Dianne drew a deep breath and felt a warmth spread through her.
Yes,
she thought,
my Father will give me strength to go on.
Together, we’ll make this work
.
Denver
March 1871
P
ORTIA
M
C
G
UIRE PATTED HER GLOVED HAND AGAINST HER
chocolate brown hair. The train travel west from Kansas City to Denver had left her feeling fatigued and dirty, but time was of the essence in reaching her destination. Especially since the telegram she’d received said her mother’s health was failing.
The Clarkston Sanitarium was said to be a fine institution for the terminally ill. Portia sincerely hoped this was true, as her mother was one of its newer residents.
The carriage slowed as it turned onto the hospital grounds, allowing Portia her first real view of the place. The two-story brick structure seemed unimpressive, but the well-manicured lawn and gardens of spring flowers were impressive. Spring had come early to Denver this year. In fact, during her journey west, Portia had been greatly impressed by the warmth and beauty she’d found along the way. Back East, especially in Boston, they were still experiencing an unseasonably cold spring.
The driver brought the carriage to a halt, then opened the door for Portia. “Here we are, ma’am.” He offered his assistance, and Portia alighted from the conveyance, clinging to his arm. She pressed a coin into his hand, then smoothed out the wrinkles in her black traveling suit.
