Place to Belong, a by Lauraine Snelling Page B

then she needed to do more of the day-to-day work. She made her bed and headed for the kitchen. She knew Mavis had a lot planned. Not often did one host a wedding at their house.
    â€œAre you warm enough?” Mavis asked. “The temperature really dropped last night, but Ransom said it was warming, which possibly meant snow. And here we are this morning with new snow.”
    â€œYou think Chief made it to the reservation yesterday?”
    â€œI doubt it, but then I don’t know how far it actually is. Sure wish he had stayed a few more days at least.”
    â€œHow about until spring, and then I’d say, ‘Oh, please stay through the summer,’ and . . .”
    â€œI know.” Mavis chuckled. “How about slicing that ham and getting it fried up. I’m mixing cornmeal mush today. Then we can have it fried tomorrow.”
    Cassie stepped into the pantry and brought the ham in from the meat safe. This time of year, outside cold took the place ofthe ice that kept the icebox cool during the summer, and the pantry, because it was warmed indirectly off the kitchen, kept things from freezing solid in the long winter. What a delicate balance. Much of what Cassie must learn about this place was logical in its own way, but still it must be learned.
    She savaged the ham more than slicing it neatly like she’d seen Mavis or Ransom do. She couldn’t even slice ham right. Where was Chief, and more important, how was he? Her mind screamed that he was buried in the snow. Another picture flashed of him on his horse, plodding through the snow, his elk robe over his head. Where was all this coming from? He’d been the one to know what to do when they’d been stopped by the blizzard in October.
    â€œCassie, what is it?” Mavis laid a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œI’m worried about Chief. Would someone take him in?”
    â€œMost likely he would not ask. This isn’t a blizzard, just snow falling and cold. He knows how to take care of himself.”
    They turned at the stamping of boots on the back porch, and Mr. Arnett pushed open the door. “Sure is pretty out there.”
    Cassie stared at the old man. All she could see was danger, and he saw how beautiful it was.
    â€œThat ham smells mighty good. You want me to turn it? I can do that, you know.”
    Cassie handed him the long-handled fork. “I’ll set the table.”
    â€œMakes ya think of Christmas, don’t it?” He moved the pan off the hotter part of the stove and looked around.
    â€œWhat do you need, Mr. Arnett?” Cassie studied his grizzled beard and wondered if he’d trimmed it last night. Somehow it seemed less scraggly.
    â€œNo ‘Mr.’ I’m Arnett. There’s lotsa Dans out there. Only one Arnett. How about a platter to put in the warming oven?”
    Cassie dug one out from under the counter where the kettles and baking things were kept and handed it to him.
    He set it down on the back of the stove. “Ya need to warm it up first.”
    Cassie and Mavis shared a smile. Obviously something had happened to make him decide that this was really home now and he wasn’t a mere guest any longer.
    â€œSo, we’re havin’ a wedding here today. Right?”
    â€œThis afternoon, when the Brandenburgs get here.” Mavis turned at the boot stomping again, two pairs this time. “I’m setting the mush on the table. Cassie, bring that cream pitcher—oh, and the milk too.” She slid the platter of pancakes into the oven to keep warm.
    Gretchen blew in from down the hall, where she had been getting ready for school. “Thanks, Cassie, for helping in my place. Mor, I can’t find my school notebook.”
    â€œDid you look under my knitting basket?”
    â€œHow did it get there?”
    â€œYou’re asking me?”
    â€œNope, anyone in general.” She flew into the big room and came back waving her notebook in the