23

Today was the day.

Right after breakfast Ransom and Lucas moved the sawmill out to the stand of pine and set it up to be ready for cutting. But when they tried to start the engine, the smokestack went puff-puff, and that was it.

“Sure wish I knew more about engines.” Ransom felt like kicking the black monster.

“I’ll go see Emerson and ask if he’ll come help us get it started. Need anything in town?”

“Not that I know of, but ask Ma.” After looping the reins over the collar nobs and hitching the traces to the harness, they each mounted one of the heavy horses and rode back to the barn. They ate dinner, explaining what had happened, and Lucas picked up the list Mavis prepared, saddled his horse, and rode out with the teams in tow.

So much for digging the pit that afternoon. Ransom watched him go, grateful on one hand that Lucas enjoyed going to town and frustrated with the lack of help around the ranch. He went back into the house and poured himself another cup of coffee. The cinnamon from the apple butter baking in the oven made the house smell delicious. “Any more of that pie?”

“Do you think I would bake only one?” His mother cut him a slab and set the plate on the table. Bringing herself one too, she sat down. “So did you decide what to do regarding the mine?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it.”

“Your pa always had good common sense. He was adamant no one go back in there. He came too close to losing his life there. I know that was part of it. He always said better the gold on the hoof than in the belly of the mountain.”

“Well, the gold on the hoof isn’t quite as brilliant as it used to be.”

“No, but it is steady. Would you help me haul those spuds down into the cellar? Some of those big squash too. I got the cabbages hung up.” She’d pulled the cabbages out by the roots and hooked them up to the floor joists, something she’d read about in her gardening magazine.

“Of course.” Two barrels of apples lined one wall of the cellar, the carrots, parsnips, and rutabagas were packed in sand, and now the potatoes filled another bin, covered by several thicknesses of burlap bags to keep the light from turning the potatoes green. Sealed jars, filled with fruits and vegetables, syrups and jams, lined the shelves, and crocks sat on the damp earth floor under the shelves.

“I love to come down here,” Mavis said, holding the lantern high to spread the light around. “No matter what happens, we’ll have food this winter.”

“The dried beans and such are upstairs?”

She nodded. “And the dried herbs are hanging along the pantry beams. Everything smells so good.”

“You and Gretchen can be right proud.”

“I know. She’s a trooper. I thank God for my children every day and pray you will always make wise decisions.”

Ransom followed his mother and closed the outside cellar door behind them. One of the last things his father had done was to install the inside stairs to the cellar to make it easier to get to in the winter. Taking after their father was a good thing. After he had quit drinking.

Rapid City

The next morning, after brushing Wind Dancer, Cassie mounted and headed for town again. At the first corner she saw a livery stable and a sign for a blacksmith. How had she missed it yesterday?

“How can I help you, miss?” a burly man in a leather apron asked. “Horse need shoeing?”

“No, I need a branding iron. Ours got left behind.” She pointed to the brand on Wind Dancer’s rump. “Like that.”

“I see.” He walked to her horse’s rear. “Is he touchy?”

“Not if he knows you’re there.” She patted the black-and-white shoulder.

“Easy, fella.” He patted the rump and ran his hand over the brand. “And this stands for?”

“L and T. Lockwood and Talbot. Lockwood was—is—my father.”

“I see. Where you headed?”

“Some land he owns in the Black Hills.”

“Give me an hour.”

“How much?”

“Say three dollars.”

They branded the two calves that afternoon, with Chief running the show.

Cassie gagged on the stench of burning hair and hide. “How do you know how to do all this?” she asked.

“Who do you suppose branded the show stock?” He nodded to Micah. “Him and me and some of the others.”

“Is George branded?”

“Nope. And I ain’t about to try it. The others were branded as calves.”

Bar E Ranch

Early the next day Lucas brought in a nice spike buck. After hurrying through breakfast, the brothers went out to the barn to finish dressing it out. With the carcass wrapped in sheeting and the liver and the heart soaking in brine in the sink, Ransom, Lucas, and their mother bundled up and took the wagon out to the apple trees. By the time they’d stripped the trees bare and picked up the few apples that the deer didn’t get, the sun was high and warm enough to take off their jackets.

Mavis bit into an apple and, leaning against a wagon wheel, stared out across the valley. “This is one thing we never could figure a way to have at the house, and yet we didn’t want to build a road clear up here either.”

“What is that?” Ransom turned from setting the bushel basket in the back of the wagon.

“This view. I’d sit outside my front door of the cabin and look out across the valley just thanking God for such a beautiful place to live. But building the ranch house where we did was much smarter.”

“Why’d you build the cabin up here?”

“To be closer to the mine. These apple trees were one of the things I was sad to leave behind.” She waved her half-eaten apple. “Can’t find an apple anywhere with better flavor.”

“I’d like to go on up to the cabin if you don’t mind.” Ransom polished the apple on his pant leg and took a bite.

“I never mind going up there.” She motioned toward the pine trees. “You thinned that stand well. It’ll give those smaller ones a chance to grow.” She tossed her apple core out into the grass. “Let’s go.”

What used to be a well-used trail was now barely visible as they climbed the hill behind the orchard. The boarded-up entrance to the mine beckoned his attention, but after his mother’s stern warnings, he ignored it. He’d deal with that later.

An oak tree shaded the cabin, covering the ground around it with acorns and dry leaves.

“We should bring the pigs up here. They’d clean up those acorns right quick.”

“Right, and some cougar would look on that as serving his next meal up all nice and tidy.” Lucas pulled the latch, and the door swung open. They stepped inside, blinking in the change from sunlight to dimness. Light through the two windows and the door was sufficient once their eyes adjusted.

“We cut the logs ourselves, and the neighbors came for a cabin raising. It was up in one day.”

Ransom and Lucas walked around, looking for water stains and signs of animal habitation. One year they had found a mound of pine cones where a squirrel had gotten in and made sure he had plenty to eat in his palace. They’d blocked his hole by the fireplace and threw his store out. The rope-strung bed in the corner needed a mattress, and the whole place needed a good cleaning. But other than that, the cabin was aging well.

“What do you think?” Lucas asked after examining one of the windows to make sure the glass didn’t need new glazing. The small cookstove wore a bit of rust, but the chimney felt secure, and there were no nests in the fireplace chimney. Lucas stuck his head in the fireplace to make sure.

Mavis opened one of the cupboards and a mouse leaped out. She let out a small shriek, making her sons laugh. “He caught me by surprise.” She gave them both a reproachful look. “You would have jumped too.”

“Of course, Mor.” Lucas rolled his lips together to keep from laughing.

“You satisfied?” Ransom asked.

“I am. Let’s go have dinner. The soup should be ready by now. I think I’ll make dumplings. Your father loved dumplings.”

Back at the ranch house, she mixed the dumplings and dropped them by spoonfuls into the bubbling soup. For a treat, she sliced bread and, putting butter in a frying pan, browned the slices slightly.

Ransom scrubbed his hands at the sink where, thanks to their windmill, they had running water. Then he dried them on the towel hanging there for that purpose. “After dinner I’m going to get the press in shape for the party,” he said, looking at Lucas. “While you dig the pit. We ought to line that with rock or bricks to keep the dirt from washing into it.”

“As if we need one more thing to do.” Lucas pulled out his chair and sat.

“I’m thinking that fitting that cabin out would make a great place to stay if the weather turns bad when we’re shoring up the mine,” Ransom said, sitting down.

“I thought you gave up on that idea.” Mavis set plates with bowls full of soup on the table.

“Mor, something is driving me. I need to work that mine. If nothing good comes of it, so be it, but there’s something that says I have to try.”

“In spite of your father’s wishes.”

Ransom nodded. “Right.”

She stared at him. “Foolhardy.”

Later, when Ransom was working on the apple press, he thought back to his mother’s words. The barb hurt but she hadn’t absolutely forbidden his reopening the mine. . . . Oh, and he’d forgotten to tell them that Emerson would come out on Monday.