Tracie Peterson - [Heirs of Montana 04] (8 page)

I’m not going to like this end of the world,
she thought with a sigh.

“It looks just like I remember,” Cole said as they drove into the farmyard. “Pa’s done a good job of keeping it up.”

“It’s very nice,” Dianne admitted. “I can’t say that I like this humidity, though.” Her clothes felt as though they were sticking to her body, and the air was so heavy that she wondered if she’d ever be able to draw a decent breath.

“Do they have a dog?” Luke asked, hanging over the side of the open buggy.

“Yes, at least they did when I lived here. He was a very nice dog too. I’m sure you’ll have fun with him.”

“Does he look like Barky?”

Dianne smiled. The family’s collie had been dubbed Barky Dog-dog by Luke when both were very young. The name had stuck and since been revised to just “Barky.”

“No, he’s not a collie like Barky. He’s big and black,” Cole said as a dog came bounding off the porch, barking up a storm. He wasn’t black, however, but rather a mottled mixture of brown, white, and gold.

A woman came out onto the porch and called to the animal. “Jake! Jake, come!”

The dog reluctantly heeded his mistress’s call.

“Ma!” Cole stopped the horses and jumped down from the buggy without even setting the brake.

Dianne quickly corrected this problem, then turned to her children. “Be on your best behavior. It’s important that you mind your manners, as Grandpa’s sickness has made it hard on everyone. He might even be with Jesus now, and that will make Papa very sad.”

The children all nodded, wide-eyed and obviously intrigued by their new circumstance and surroundings. Dianne managed to descend from the buggy without help, then reached up to take hold of Lia. The boys bounded out without hesitation, seeming to enjoy every moment of their adventure.

Dianne looked to see that Cole was listening to his mother. The woman seemed to be talking in a rapid but hushed voice. Whether she did this because she didn’t want Dianne and the children to overhear or because this was her nature, Dianne had no idea. There was nothing here that she knew—nothing that she understood.

Dianne cautiously approached the porch with her children, wondering if she should have waited in the buggy. Cole’s mother said something, then stepped back from her son. Cole turned.

“Dianne, this is my mother, Mary Selby. Ma, this is my wife, Dianne, and our children.” He noted each one, telling their names and ages.

Mary Selby was not a handsome woman. She was rather stern faced and severe, in fact. Dianne thought she might look less so if she were to arrange her hair differently. Her gray hair had been pulled back tightly and arranged into a no-nonsense type of bun that rejected any sign of an escaping wisp.

“Hello, Mrs. Selby. I’m so glad we could finally meet.” Dianne tried to sound pleasant without making it seem joyous. After all, the circumstances were not what anyone would have wanted.

“Pity you didn’t come when Hallam was well,” Mary said in her first greeting.

Dianne was uncertain what to say, so she said nothing. She was tired, hot, and sticky and longed only for a bath. She knew Lia would also feel better if given a chance to bathe and cool off. Still, Dianne didn’t want to set the tone for their visit by making demands.

“Ma was telling me that Pa is barely holding on. The doctor says it won’t be long. We got here just in time.”

“What can we do?” Dianne asked.

“There’s nothing
you
can do!” Cole’s mother snapped. “He wants to see his son.”

Dianne tried not to appear shocked. “I merely wondered if we might help with the housework or cooking—maybe the laundry and yard work, so that you would be freed up to sit with your husband.”

Mary sneered. “I don’t expect you would know much about farm life.”

“I doubt it’s that different from ranch life,” Dianne countered, unable to hold her tongue. “And laundry is pretty much laundry wherever you go.” She smiled, hoping to soften the retort.

“Your wife is rude,” Mary told Cole without even attempting to hide her comment.

Dianne bristled. “My suggestions were not meant to be rude but rather to offer insight. I’m very capable of helping out.”

“I don’t need your help. I have daughters for that. Just keep your children out from underfoot.” With that she turned and opened the door. “You know where his room is,” she told Cole. “You should go to him immediately. The others can wait in the front room.”

Cole seemed to remember his family’s exhaustion, much to Dianne’s surprise. “Do you have room for us here, or should I take them back to a hotel in town?”

Mary looked back at Dianne and the children and frowned. It was almost as if Dianne could read the woman’s mind. She would obviously like it if Dianne and the children were not a part of the arrangement at all.
Well,
she thought,
at least there we agree. I wish I were home working with the horses and checking the new calves
.

“I have room. You needn’t take them into town. Although the children mustn’t be noisy and disturb your father.”

“We understand,” Cole replied. “I’ve already told the children they must be on their best behavior. Why don’t I get our bags and you can show us to our rooms. Then Dianne can settle the children and I can see Pa.”

Mary seemed to consider this for a moment, then reluctantly said, “Very well.”

“Go ahead,” Cole told Dianne. “I’ll get our things and find the way. Come on boys, you help me.”

Mary gathered her dark brown skirt and trudged up the stairs. Dianne could feel the woman’s disdain but had no idea why she should so hate her daughter-in-law and grandchildren. When they reached the top of the stairs, Mary turned abruptly to the left. Dianne and Lia followed in silence.

Without ceremony, Mary opened the door to a room. “You and Cole will be in here.” The room was small but serviceable and clean. “Thank you, it looks lovely,” Dianne said softly.

Mary didn’t respond but instead crossed the hall and opened another door. “The children can stay here.”

Dianne looked inside. There were two small beds and a dresser, but little more. The room smelled musty, as if it hadn’t been aired in some time. The shades were pulled, making it dark and dingy. Dianne tried not to be upset by the sight. “Thank you. It should serve us well.”

“I would hope so,” Mary snapped.

“It’s dark,” Lia said, peeking from behind her mother’s skirt.

Mary was clearly not pleased with the comment. “There’s light enough.”

Dianne decided she couldn’t make the woman any more angry, so she braved a request. “Might we get some water for cleaning up?”

“The room is perfectly clean,” Mary said, her disgust with them evident.

Dianne smiled. “I didn’t mean for the room. It’s quite in order. I meant so that the children and I could wash up. We’ve been on the train for some days, and we’re very dirty and hot.”

“There’s a pump out the back door. A bucket too. You’re welcome to fetch water.” The words seemed to pain Mary to even speak them. “There’s a tub on the back porch if you feel the need for a bath. You should know, however, we’re suffering a drought and water is a precious commodity. We aren’t fancy folk, and I won’t tolerate you bathing every day.”

Dianne thought to push aside propriety and ask Mary why she was treating her so ill, but thoughts of Hallam dying held Dianne in check. She wouldn’t be herself if Cole were as sick, so she could hardly expect this woman to be happy and gracious.

“Thank you, Mrs. Selby,” she said as Cole and the boys started up the stairs with the baggage. “We’ll be mindful of the water.”

Dianne showed the boys where to put their things. “You boys will share this room with your sister.” She could see that Mary was speaking again to her son. No doubt complaining about Dianne’s desire for water. Dianne was most relieved when the woman departed. Cole took their bags to the room across the hall, leaving Dianne alone with the children.

“It’s hot in here,” Micah said softly. “And smelly.”

“And dark,” Lia added.

Dianne raised the shade. “There, see. It’s not so dark. And we’ll put up the window and let the breeze come in. That will help with the heat.” She pulled on the window until it complied.

“You put away your things, and then we’ll fetch some water and clean ourselves up. It will soon be lunchtime, and we don’t want to be dirty.”

She left the children to their chores and went to find Cole. He had deposited the bags but was nowhere to be found. No doubt he’d gone to see his father. Dianne sighed and sat down on the bed. There was no way this was going to be easy. She sighed again and leaned against the iron footrail.

“Are you all right, Mama?” Lia asked as she came into the room.

Dianne lifted her face and smiled. “I’m just tired, sweetheart. Weary of the road we’ve been on.”

CHAPTER 6

“I
HAD NO IDEA THAT YOU WERE SICK
,” C
OLE TOLD HIS
father. He was shocked at the emaciated appearance of the man. Cole glanced around the darkened room. It depressed his spirit. There hung a smell of death that made him shudder and wish that he could run away from all of it. “You should have let me know sooner.”

“Came on kind of sudden-like,” Hallam told him. “Doctor says it started with my heart and now other parts of my body are wearing out.”

Cole nodded and pulled his chair closer to the bed. It was difficult to understand his father’s raspy words. “And there’s nothing to be done?”

Cole’s father closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them. “There’s plenty that needs to be attended to, but nothing can be done for me. I’m glad you came. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the farm.”

“What about it?” Cole figured his father would ask him to sell the place.

“I’d like you to take it over. I’m leaving it to you in my will.”

Cole knew his face registered surprise. “You want me to run the farm?”

“It would be a real blessing to me to know that your mother wouldn’t have to worry about anything. We’ve had help from the neighbor in harvesting, but we can’t expect that to continue.” Hallam began to cough. Cole reached for a glass of water at his bedside and helped his father to sit up enough to drink. The coughing subsided, but it was clear his father was weak—in no condition for debates about what needed to be done with the farm.

“When you feel up to it,” Cole said, replacing the glass on the nightstand, “I’d like you to meet my children and wife. I’m mighty proud of all of them.”

“I’d like that,” his father acknowledged.

They were silent for several minutes. Cole wiped sweat from his brow, as the heat of the room seemed unbearable. “Are you too warm?” he asked his father, hoping for an excuse to open a window.

“No. I’m cold all the time. Doctor says it’s because my heart isn’t working properly.” There came another silence, but then Hallam pressed the issue of the farm again. “I need you here, son. It’s a good farm. Good ground. You can grow most anything in river bottom land. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he explained. “To leave you something of value—something of me.”

Cole was torn. Dianne would never approve of living in Kansas. She was already longing for the mountains. She hadn’t said as much, but he knew it nevertheless. “I’ll think on it, Pa, but you need to remember, I have a ranch to run.”

“That’s your wife’s property, isn’t it? I’d be giving you this as an inheritance. It’d be yours.”

Cole hadn’t expected his father to hit the one nerve in him that kept him from complete happiness in Montana. He constantly felt as though he were tending other people’s land and property. At least the freighting business had been his own, and it had done well. He was proud of his work there. Of course, he’d been proud of his work at the ranch too, but now that George and Koko were back at the Diamond V, and Koko’s son, Jamie, was nearly a man, it seemed only fair to let them run the ranch. Of course, he knew Dianne didn’t see it that way.

She realized her uncle’s ranch would have belonged in full to Koko and her children had they not been part Blackfoot, but Cole knew too that the land had won her over. Dianne’s heart was in Montana. It wasn’t here in Kansas, nor was it likely to be.

“I’ll think on it, Pa” was all Cole could manage. He wanted to offer the old man comfort in his time of sickness, but he couldn’t lie to him. There would be no easy way to convince Dianne to live here—even if Cole desired it for himself.

“Your ma isn’t doing all that well. She isn’t dealing with my sickness as I’d hoped. She’s afraid, and I can’t die in peace knowing that she’s fearing her future.”

“She’ll always have a home with me; you know that.”

“But her home is here. I moved her from one place to another all our married life. I want her to have a place to call home. A place she can grow old in. Cordelia and Laurel are both here with the grandchildren. She won’t want to leave them.”

“Maybe she could live with one of them—or else they could come here.”

Hallam shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Pa,” Cole pleaded, “I have a family. Dianne loves Montana, and her family and friends are there. I love it there too. I can’t say that I would easily trade it for Kansas.”