• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 530 0

would kiss Al good-bye and tell him to give those Germans a piece of her mind. She’d board the train on the second call. She and the boys would wave good-bye to Al, their faces pressed flat against the window. After a while, when the boys got to fussing, Mindy would open her hamper and give them slices of buttered bread to quiet them down. They’d watch the countryside smooth out and turn green. Ranches would give way to farms until at last, the conductor would call out “Des Moines,” and Mindy would cry from the gladness of being home again with family.

Isaac said, “Any other time, I’d buy his ranch outright. But until I can, and Al’s agreed, I’m leasing grazing rights from him.”

I didn’t understand. We didn’t have a red cent to our name. The short supplies Isaac brought home a few days ago showed that. My hands began to pat my swelled-up belly.

“When I go back for the horses,” he said, “I’m going through the rest of Al’s herd, see what I want before he takes them to market.”

I was too stunned to say anything.

“It’ll be tight,” Isaac said, “but Al’s got some good range-land. And this is a chance to replace the cattle we’ve lost this summer. It’ll get us back to where we were. I’m taking Al’s bull. That animal’s top-notch . . . smooth back, good-angled legs, easy disposition. I’ll lease him out; he’ll pay for himself in no time flat. Like he did for Al.” He paused. “With a lot of hard work and a little luck, it’ll be like this drought never happened.”

I couldn’t get any air. Isaac said, “The rain’s turned our luck. You can put in your garden. I’ll get the winter wheat planted. And here’s something else. Al wants us to have that Deadwood piano. Maybe one of the children has your brother’s knack for music.”

There was less than four weeks’ worth of supplies in the kitchen. The root cellar was bare. Winter was coming. I said, “How many cows are you buying? Along with this bull?”

Isaac rubbed his thumb across the tips of his fingers like he was counting, like he hadn’t already thought it out. “A hundred or so. About half of them are settled. That’ll be close to a hundred and fifty after calving season.”

“A hundred? I thought we were nearly broke. I thought most of it went for Mabel Walker’s place.”

“I’ve got it all worked out.”

“How?”

The air tensed. Since the day I’d married Isaac, I had never questioned his judgment. He always knew what to do; I even let him put Liz in the well. But not now. If there was money, it had to be for supplies, not grazing rights and more cattle.

“Please, Isaac,” I said. “Tell me how you’re going to pay for all this.”

He didn’t say anything; he just stared off toward Grindstone Butte. Finally he said, “Al’s agreed to let me pay him next spring.”

“Spring? Where’s the money going to come from? And what about supplies?”

“What about them?”

“You only brought home four weeks’ worth.”

“We’ll manage.”

“I don’t see how. Can’t even count on having any cabbage and squash, not when we haven’t planted yet.”

“We’ll be all right. I told you I’ve got it all worked out. The war, it’s going to save us.”

“The war?”

“Cattle prices are sure to shoot up. Even stringy beef will get a decent price.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

“It will. It’s driving up the price of gold too. Al McKee told me, and Fred Schuling’s heard the same thing, that they need more men at the Homestake Mine, over in the Black Hills. I’m going to see about hiring on for the winter.”

My hand found the letter in my pocket. I gripped it like it was Sue’s hand I was holding.

“I’ll leave mid-November. I’ll be back before calving season. Fred said he’ll come by whenever he can.”

The porch floor tilted; I was dizzy with disbelief. “I don’t understand. You’re leaving us?”

“Wages are good at the gold mine.”

“You’re going to be gone? During the winter?”

“Fred’ll come by. I’ll send him my pay; he’ll bring supplies.”

“We’ll be here by ourselves? Is that what you’re saying? Me and the children?”

“You’ll be all right.”

“No. No.”

“Rachel.”

“Don’t leave us.”

“I have to.”

“Then send us to my mother’s, like Al’s doing for Mindy.”

“I need