Tracie Peterson - [Heirs of Montana 04] (9 page)

“Please consider this for me. I know I haven’t always been the best father, but now I finally have something to leave you—an inheritance.” His words were growing more faint.

“You rest now, Pa. We can talk more about this later.” Cole leaned over and pulled the covers up around his father’s shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

That night Cole couldn’t talk to Dianne about the conversation he’d had with his father. He knew she would be upset, and because Cole had had so little time to process the request and consider the situation, he decided not to bring it up yet.

The next day seemed no easier, as his mother commanded his attention early in the day and then he went to spend time with his father. By the time he was alone with Dianne the following evening, it was late and the heat had made them both irritable.

“I’ve hardly seen you since we’ve arrived,” Dianne commented as she ran a damp cloth over her neck and face.

“It’s been difficult.” Cole sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how to best explain his father’s desires. “I’ve wanted to talk to you, however. My father has been asking me to do something for him.”

She stopped washing. “What does he want?”

He drew a deep breath. “He wants me to take over the farm. To inherit it upon his death and care for my mother.”

She held his gaze. “And what did you tell him?”

“I reminded him that I had established myself in Montana—that we were happy there.”

She sighed. “Well, I’m grateful for that.”

He shook his head. “He needs me, Dianne. My mother needs me too. I’m not sure what’s to be done.”

“You can’t be seriously considering his request.”

“I must. This is my family.”

“The children and I are your family.”

“Yes, but I can hardly leave my mother without help. I can’t turn away from them now in their hour of need.”

Dianne walked slowly to the opposite side of the bed, forcing Cole to turn if he wanted to continue the conversation face to face. She pushed aside the covers and sat down with her back against the pillows. “I knew you’d find another reason to keep me from the ranch.”

He stiffened. “This isn’t about that. It’s not about you or the ranch.”

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That much is evident.”

Cole immediately felt bad for his words. “Dianne, you know that I love you. You know that I want to make you happy. I’m sorry we haven’t moved back to the ranch, but I wanted and needed things to be in order before we returned. I didn’t want you and the children living like you did when you first came to the territory.”

“Don’t you understand?” Dianne questioned, looking to him with such an expression of sorrow that Cole longed to take her into his arms. “I’d rather live in a tent in the middle of the Diamond V than live in a palace here in Kansas. I’d rather have nothing more than a ranch shack in which to raise my children than to endure this place with its heat and humidity and hate. Can’t you see how hard it is for Lia? She’s not well. She can scarcely breathe properly. She coughs all the time now, and it’s only been a couple days.”

“She’s probably just caught a cold,” he replied. “If it worsens we’ll take her to the doctor. Look, I’m sorry this is difficult. It’s hardly easy on me.”

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and turned to him. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve lost my father and mother—I understand what loss is and how it devastates and clouds one’s judgment.”

“And you think my judgment is clouded?”

“I think you’ve lost sight of what our dreams were.”

“Maybe I’ve just lost sight of what
your
dreams were. Maybe I’m only now finding out what mine are.” He hadn’t intended to take on the harsh tone, but he’d had more than he wanted of this conversation. “Look, it’s hot and I’m tired. I want to go to sleep. We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

Dianne rolled over on her side. “Just so long as you realize one thing. I cannot live here. I won’t stay here.”

Cole lay awake for a long time after that. He wasn’t sure if it was her words or the heat that caused his stomach to sour, but he felt sick for most of the night. Dianne wouldn’t stay here, and his mother wouldn’t leave. How was he supposed to meet the needs of both women without hurting one or the other?

Lord, this won’t be easily solved,
he prayed.
Please give me wisdom
.

The days went by so slowly that Dianne thought she could actually count time in the number of labored breaths she drew. The air seemed so thick that she could scarcely fill her lungs enough, and Lia had developed a chronic cough. Dianne told herself it would be all right—that she could endure this short time for Cole’s sake. But nothing was right about this place.

Standing over a tub of dirty laundry, Dianne was hard pressed to find anything good or uplifting about her circumstance. She tried to pray, even as she worked, but the words wouldn’t come. Lia was hardly herself, sitting on a blanket nearby. She didn’t want to play or even help, as she often begged to do at home in Montana. The boys seemed the least affected. They were running in circles around the yard, playing with Jake and enjoying the day. Dianne was at least grateful that they were happy.

“Mama, when can we go home?” Lia asked.

Dianne straightened. “I don’t know. Papa needs to be here for a little while to help Grandma and Grandpa Selby. When things are better, we can go back to Montana.”

Lia sighed and picked up her doll. Dianne felt the same hopelessness that seemed to engulf her child. They weren’t needed here. They weren’t even liked. It was clear that Mary Selby wished Dianne and her children had never come. Dianne tried to talk to Cole about it, but he told her it was all her imagination, that his mother was simply worried about her husband.

Dianne could understand that, but it didn’t make her treatment any easier to bear. Cole’s sisters were an entirely different matter. Laurel had arrived that morning, bringing her spoiled daughters. Josephine, who was sixteen, made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with her rowdy cousins. She sneered down her nose at the boys and rudely questioned why Dianne would allow Lia to run around half dressed. Dianne explained that they were unaccustomed to the heat, but it didn’t matter to Josephine or her mother. Laurel’s other three daughters were equally obnoxious, even laughing at Dianne’s gown and asking if people in Montana didn’t care about fashion. Dianne told them in a clipped tone that people in Montana worked hard to stay alive and didn’t have time for frippery.

Perhaps the thing that bothered Dianne the most was the girls’ closeness to Mary Selby. They clearly ruled the roost and had their grandmother’s affection. It made Dianne sad for her own children, who immediately noted the change in their grandmother. Mary Selby fussed and doted on each of the girls, clearly ignoring Dianne’s children.

Cordelia and her two girls arrived about an hour after Laurel. Eva, age ten, seemed interested in the boys, but Cordelia quickly put an end to that. She forced Eva and her little sister, Lydia, to remain with Laurel’s daughters and have nothing to do with Dianne’s children. In fact, after the briefest of introductions to Cordelia, Dianne was clearly dismissed by Mary Selby.

“I’m sure you have things to occupy your time,” Mary had stated curtly.

It was then that Dianne had gathered her brood, along with the laundry, and headed outdoors. Dianne had remained outside all morning, hoping fervently that Cole’s sisters would leave before lunchtime.

“Mama, that mean lady is coming,” Lia suddenly warned.

Dianne looked up to see Cordelia making her way across the yard. “You boys are entirely too noisy. Stop playing with that dog at once and go sit down.”

Dianne watched the boys freeze in their place, shocked that anyone should make these demands. Deciding it was time to establish some control, Dianne went to Cordelia. “If you have a problem with my children, come to me, not to them.”

Cordelia was only a few years Dianne’s junior, but she clearly thought herself superior in this situation. She touched a gloved hand to her chest as if surprised by Dianne’s attitude.

“I’m only thinking of my father.”

“Your father’s room is on the front side of the house. We are here in the backyard, clearly away from the house. I doubt seriously the noise can even be heard in the kitchen, much less in his room.”

“You are just as rude as Mother described you.”

“If telling the truth or standing up for one’s family is rude, then yes, I’m very rude. I don’t know what I’ve done to put you or your mother in such ill tempers, but I won’t let you take it out on my children.”

“Your boys are positively heathens. They need discipline.”

“They need to be back home,” Dianne snapped.

“Well, that isn’t going to happen now, so you’d best learn to deal with them. We’re civilized here, and their lack of manners won’t be easily tolerated.”

Dianne felt a chill for the first time since arriving in Kansas. “I’m uncertain as to the manners and behaviors of this part of the country, but treating people as though they are no better than dirt to be swept aside is considered rude and ill mannered where I come from. You walk around here with your airs and attitudes, your sister and children just as uppity as you are, and yet you condemn my family?”

Dianne gave her no time to respond. “I came here to support my husband in his time of grief and have been treated with nothing but disdain since setting foot on this property. Cole wanted to show off his children—children that he is very proud of, I might add. And those same children have been treated with contempt such as I would not impose upon a dog.”

Cordelia sneered. “You weren’t needed here. Cole was. He still is and always will be. Our mother needs him to take over this farm and to care for her.”

“Cole has a place to run—a ranch in Montana. He has a wife and children to whom he’s now obligated,” Dianne countered. “This farm is not his home.”

“Don’t be so sure. Our father has already asked him to stay and take it over once he’s gone.”

“Yes, I know that. Cole discussed the matter with me and we came to the conclusion that such a thing simply wouldn’t work. We have a home in Montana, and that’s where we’ll return after the funeral.”

Cordelia seemed taken aback by this news. “You are a selfish woman. Taking a man away from his grieving mother.”

“She has you and Laurel to see to her needs. She has your children and Laurel’s and clearly wants nothing to do with mine.” By now the boys had gathered around their mother as if to protect her from Cordelia’s barbs. Dianne didn’t wish for them to be a part of this, however.

“Boys, take Lia to the pump and clean up for dinner.” They immediately did as they were told, much to her relief.

Cordelia seemed to be surprised by this but said nothing. Dianne, however, had plenty she wanted to say now that her children were out of earshot. Leaning toward Cole’s sister, she put aside propriety.

“Cole is my husband, and he knows his responsibility to his own family comes first. I won’t allow you, your sister, or your mother to interfere with that. We aren’t staying here in Kansas, and you might as well get used to it.”

Cole rounded the milk house just as Dianne finished speaking. To her surprise, Cordelia burst into tears and ran to her brother.

“Your wife is so cruel!” She threw herself into Cole’s arms.

“What’s this all about?” he questioned.

Dianne opened her mouth to speak, but Cordelia immediately commanded the situation. “She’s been berating me for mentioning how grateful we were that you were here and how we were hoping that you would stay on to comfort Mother after Father passes on. She feels we’re trying to make unfair demands on you.”

Cole cast an accusing glance at Dianne.

“I’ve merely been telling your sister than I don’t appreciate the manner in which the children and I have been treated. She came out here commanding our boys as if she were somehow in charge.”

“Dianne, the situation is not easy for them,” Cole said, looking at her as if she had broken all the rules of proper protocol.

Cordelia sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “We’re none of us ourselves,” she said softly, clinging to Cole. “It’s been so difficult watching Father … fade.”

“That’s still no reason to make children feel bad,” Dianne countered.

“Dianne, you must show more compassion,” he commanded. “I’m certain Cordelia meant no harm.”

“She says you’ll leave right after the funeral. Please tell me that isn’t true,” Cordelia sobbed. “I don’t know what we’ll do without you. I don’t know how we’ll make arrangements for everything.”

Cole frowned. “I have no intention of leaving while I’m still needed here.”

Dianne narrowed her eyes and met her husband’s gaze. She was glad that Cordelia had once again buried her face against Cole’s shoulder. Her rage was barely controllable. How dare he take his sister’s side over hers?

“Cole, please hitch the buggy for me. The children and I are going into town … where I’m sure we’ll be treated with more warmth and welcome than we are here.”

Dianne gathered her things and stormed away. “Children, go comb your hair and make yourselves presentable for town. We will leave in fifteen minutes. I need to change my clothes.”