The schoolhouse was a barely-safe structure built quickly around the time Opal was first allowed to go to school. Weather invaded the room with ease. Opal and her classmates sat on split-log benches around a small wood stove. The first class chore was bringing a scuttle of coal to start the stove. Second, they would sharpen pencils while the stove warmed.
During the early mornings, if you sat too close to the stove, it was a hellish roast. Too far away and you were frozen to the bone. The roof leaked and weeds made their way up between the floorboards like attentive students.
Opal and her schoolmates were not allowed to attend the well-constructed red schoolhouse near the river dock. That was for white children only. Or rather, it had become that way after Pastor Worthington came to town.
There was a rumor that Beatrice Worthington, the pastor’s wife, had politicked to make these changes official. But it didn’t matter to Opal which schoolhouse was available—in school, she was bored out of her mind. She had read, at least five times over, every book the school could provide. She only went for one reason: she loved her teacher, Ms. Trudy Freeg.
Ms. Trudy was one of the most beautiful women Opal had ever encountered. She looked like a fairytale princess. She had a slim hourglass shape, rose-red lips, and long, wheat-colored hair that cascaded over her shoulders in shiny, wavy loops of gold. She was always dressed in immaculately ironed pink outfits and never wore the same dress twice. She smelled like fresh mint and honey and her skin looked like a newly baked loaf of bread, warm and toasty-tan. She was perpetually perfect.
Opal didn’t hold it against her that she was white. Ms. Trudy transcended this division with her passion for teaching the children. It was her firm conviction that all children, no matter their circumstances, color, or gender, needed education.
Ms. Trudy was also a mystery. She had come out of nowhere, with no one. She was never seen, except on her way to and from the rickety schoolhouse. There were rumors that she lived past the old wall, in the wilderness beyond Devil’s Alley, which was something few Ozarkers had the courage to do.
Opal was now the oldest student at the school, except for Mattie Riggs, Opal’s annoying friend. Mattie blabbered nonstop, mostly nonsense about how one day she was going to become a stage actress. Neither girl knew how that was even possible. Mattie fed her obsessions with copies of the Ozark Gazette, which Timerus McCaw, the riverboat captain, brought down the river. Mattie always had at least one of those newspapers with her. She had memorized every article about dramatic acting with such clarity that Ms. Trudy began enticing her to work on math and other subjects by making up examples about actresses.
If an actress has been hired for two plays per night, if she will be paid $7 dollars per hour and each play last 3 hours, how much will she earn?
She would do this all day long for Mattie, but it was a fruitless effort. Governor, Opal’s mule, had more sense than Mattie.
No one argued that school still fit Opal. Most of her contemporaries were off working with their parents, or had left a long time ago because book learning was just not as important as another hand earning an income. To survive, most black folk had to make sure everyone in the family gave all they could to the effort.
School was a luxury available to Opal only because of Bree’s job at the Worthington Estate. Beatrice Worthington made it a point to see that all her staff enrolled their children in school, and she paid extra to guarantee they would do it. It seemed to assuage her guilt over segregating the black and white children.
The Worthington Estate was the next stop in Opal’s monotonous daily routine. She would finish her time at school, exchange her homework lesson for the next one, grab a new book to read, and head off to check in on Bree.
When Opal was smaller, she would play with Abigail Worthington. Abigail was the Worthington’s angelic and luminous daughter. She was also the same age as Opal. Having her as a friend was a joy for Opal, and over time, despite their obvious differences, the two girls became very close friends.
When Abigail went missing one night and was never seen again, it was a terrible loss to the whole town. Opal cried for weeks. Abigail’s body was never found. Only a red hair ribbon was recovered. It was later cut into two pieces and worn by her parents as tribute to their lost treasure. Abner wore his section of ribbon tied to his pocket watch. Beatrice wore her piece woven into the links of a silver necklace that never left her chest.
After Abigail’s disappearance, Opal found waiting on Bree excruciatingly boring. Opal always claimed a spot near the horse barn that Jupiter Johnson managed. It was in sight of a tree that an old servant, Sugar Trotter, hung blue glass bottles on.
Opal waited for her aunt within earshot of the strange wind chime and read pirate books like Captain Amanda Ravenheart and the Adventures of The Hardscrabble.
Sometimes Bree had special dinners to cook, and in these cases Hud would rescue Opal and the two of them would walk down to Oliver’s General Store for her favorite candy: Blackband’s Legless Lizard Licorice, strawberry-flavored snakes of deliciousness.
Mostly the trip was window-shopping, but not always. Hud, like most adults who knew Opal intimately, took great care when challenging her willful spirit. The candy greased the gears of cooperation.
At the end of the day, Opal went home for early evening chores, like tending to their little menagerie, and other miscellaneous household details Bree needed done. There was the cooking of supper, the cleaning up from the cooking, and the preparing for the next day—at which time all the Summerfields would rise and repeat the cycle once again.
Opal longed for a more adventurous life but found no reason to expect it. She knew she would never explore the dark, dangerous seas like Captain Amanda Ravenheart. Nevertheless, she yearned to sail into undiscovered territories. When she settled into bed each night, she felt the weight of discontent like a heavy quilt. She knew there was something more, someplace else.
That was the usual day for Opal Summerfield.
Today was not a usual day.
Opal could feel fate pinching one corner of her soul, it hurt like an arthritic cramp brought on by a change in barometric pressure. A great reversal was rolling in like a rogue thunderstorm, and its dark clouds swirled in her mind.
Most importantly, it was her birthday, and it had to be the strangest one she had ever experienced. Kawa the hawk had protected her from the Elkins boys and given her the best birthday present ever: a beautiful gemstone necklace.
She looked down at it hanging around her neck. The astonishing gemstone seemed to have flakes and swirls of every known color. It was a black opal hanging from a silver chain. The stone was set in a metal lattice with symbols that she did not understand.
Opal thought the necklace was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She was so happy that she laughed out loud at her luck as she crossed the Main Street Bridge and strolled into the heart of Grigg’s Landing.
Of course, all of that changed the minute she heard the voices of Percy and Pitt Elkins several blocks ahead.
The magic of the Ozark Mountains was that way—around every corner another delight, another danger.
8
“Bree I think you’ve heard what I’ve been looking for. Seems everybody has.” Big Maggie Brown took a couple of aggressive steps toward Bree Summerfield. Her eyes squinted into a determined look.
“I know you are only looking for one thing most days, Mags.”
“Yeah? What is that?”
“Good money or a good time,” Bree chuckled. “Am I right, or are you getting at something else?”
Bree hoped her weak attempt at humor would lead the conversation in a different direction.
“Funny girl, you’re a real clown, but I think you know good and well what it is I’m after. Something I think you’ve known for a long time.”
“What would that be Mags? Just tell me plain.”
“A necklace!” Big Maggie said curtly.
Bree’s heart sank. “I wouldn’t
know,” she said, trying her best to hold her composure.
“You would and you do!”
Bree just gave Big Maggie an exasperated stare; she suddenly wanted to strangle the disrespect right out of her.
“I won’t tolerate people lying to my face, Bree,” Big Maggie blustered.
“I don’t have no necklace. If I did I’d sure as heck be wearing it for all to see,” Bree said.
“This is a very special necklace. I consider it a family treasure. It’s real, real important to me. I’d do about anything to get my hands on it, if you take my meaning,” sneered Big Maggie.
“Miss Maggie, I think our conversation is over for today,” Bree said pointedly. She could no longer conceal her anger.
“Not till I’m satisfied your clear about my intentions.”
“Oh, is that right? You stand on my land, a few feet from my home, and you think Big Maggie is big enough to tell me the way it’s gonna be? The good folk up in this here holler don’t abide that Miss Brown. Not sure where you learned your ways, but it ain’t the way of these hills. We look out for each other, and yeah, we know a bit too much of each other’s business, but we sure as heck don’t go around telling people how things are gonna be. Especially if you ain’t been raised up around here!” Bree felt anger she hadn’t felt in years. No one talks to her this way.
“Is that so?” Big Maggie said.
“That is damn sure so!” Bree said.
“Your sister had that way about her. Bree. Didn’t do her no good, now did it? I would hate to see anyone else in your family end up like that. That was a bad, bad thing child. Just awful,” Big Maggie said shaking her head, feigning concern.
“What do you know about my sister? You think cause you heard the story of how she died that you know her? That you know me or any of us?”
“Sometimes people think they’re strong, but when they get fixed in a corner and they know everything is going to get ugly, and things are going to be taken from them, that strength just doesn’t show up,” Big Maggie said.
“But if that strength shows, it’s going to be bad for those that stirred the pot. I can tell you that.” Bree was at her limit.
“Well broom me out, you got some spunk Summerfield.”
“And you got a rude mouth, and we are done talking!”
Bree grabbed her rusty little shotgun, which was leaning up against the porch frame. She broke the weapon open, saw that it was loaded, and snapped it back in place.
How did anyone other than Hud and Ms. Willis know about that necklace? What would someone like Big Maggie want with it anyway? Why now?
“I think you need to leave now,” Bree said through clenched jaw. She raised the gun level, pointing it straight at Big Maggie.
Ladybug neighed and kicked at her stall. Governor brayed. Devilhead even made a run toward Big Maggie, crowing in his greatest fury. The whole farm was ready for a fight.
“I have to agree. No need to take anymore time.” Big Maggie turned toward the road.
“Miss Brown.”
“Yes, Miss Summerfield?” Big Maggie said looking over her shoulder.
“Don’t ever let me catch you on my land again!”
Big Maggie Brown just laughed. She sniffed like a new scent had floated by on the wind. Her fingers felt the air as if she were touching some invisible wall. After a long last stare into Bree’s angry eyes, she turned and waddled down to the main road.
When Big Maggie was out of sight, Bree pulled out the mojo bag and pressed the bag to her heart.
Had it worked?
She fingered the cold steel of the shotgun in her other hand.
By guess or by God, she thought.
Whatever it took, mojo bag or shotgun shells, Bree would protect her family.
9
A horse drawn cart was waiting for Big Maggie at the edge of the Summerfields’ property. Two men who worked her stills sat leaning into the side swapping jokes and kicking stones under their boots. They saw their boss coming and went to work, swarming like worker bees trying to impress their queen.
I feel its power.
Big Maggie could sense the stone and the pulse of its magic, but it seemed very distant, like a beating heart at the bottom of a deep lake.
The Summerfields knew where the necklace was. They were hiding it for that old white witch, Jane Willis. It was obvious to her that Bree’s mojo bag had been meant to block her from sensing it. But her conjuring power was in full bloom, more powerful than Willis’s now, and the hoodoo spell was too weak. It was an annoyance, and she would soon take care of Willis and her feeble meddling.
She knew the necklace was closer than it had been in years. The Summerfield family was no threat. Everything was turning her way. All her preparation, all her waiting—now the time was upon her.
One more step, she thought. Before the old woman’s conjuring gets in the way.
10
“Nothing but devils,” muttered Ethel Johnson as Opal walked up the street to the cafe.
“Hi Miss Ethel,” Opal called out.
The frail, gray-haired black lady was on her knees sweeping up broken glass from the boardwalk.
“How many windows have those boys done broke?” she said, struggling to get back up.
Opal rushed to her aid. “Here you go Miss Ethel, let me help you.”
“Aw, thank you girl. Dang possumbelly hooligans,” said Ms. Ethel.
Opal could see Pitt and Percy hanging from the limbs of an old oak tree many yards away. They were snickering and pointing, admiring their latest handiwork. They immediately noticed Opal staring their way.
“Hey rummer, why you done broke that old lady’s window?” snickered Pitt.
Percy, who was hanging upside down from one tree limb, laughed so hard that a snort of snot flew from his nose. The wine-colored hawk-scratch across his cheek gave him a sinister new look.
“Don’t you pay them ingrates no mind, you hear me girl?” Ms. Ethel said. “Especially this day. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am,” smiled Opal.
“Oh, now look here, I’ve got something for you and your family,” Ms. Ethel said walking back into her café. “I’ll be right back!”
The Elkins boys made rude signs and yelled taunts in Opal’s direction. On the ground she could see the glint of a few bits of broken glass Ms. Ethel had missed. Next to one was a round stone the size of a robin’s egg. In seconds, Opal had sent it back to Pitt like a missile. It smacked him square in the nose. He fell from the tree, and when he finally stood back up, blood was trickling from his battered beak.
Now you’re both bleeding. Serves you right!
Opal tucked her slingshot back into her pocket just as Ms. Ethel emerged from her restaurant.
“Here you go dear,” Ms. Ethel said.
She held out a perfectly browned apple crisp in an ornate copper baking dish.
“For your birthday. Happy birthday young lady! Now take this to your family, they’re going to love every bite.”
“For sure. Thank you so much Miss Ethel. You gonna need this dish back?”
Opal took the dish while Ms. Ethel placed a thin piece of linen over the pie and tied it with a blue ribbon. She glanced over at the boys who were whispering and pointing at Opal.
“That old thing? No girl, let Bree keep it. Now you steer clear of those two. Nothing but trouble,” Ms. Ethel said. “Get yourself home and enjoy that treat.”
Opal took off down the street. The brothers had disappeared.
She walked through Rambrey Park. As she ducked under the limbs of a large pine tree, her friend, Mattie Riggs, ran up to greet her.
“Opal, happy birthday! I’ve got a present for you,” she said.
Mattie handed her a bundle of Blackband’s Legless Lizard Licorice.
“I know you can’t get enough of that stuff,” she said. Mattie drew a piece out and stuck it in her mouth.
“Yeah, help yourself,” giggled Opal. “Thanks Mattie.”
>
“What the heck is wrong with your eyes girl? Have you been crying?” Mattie asked. She leaned in, inspecting Opal’s eyes more carefully.
“No! What do you mean?” Opal snapped.
“They’re—well, they are kind of orange-like. You sick?”
“Aren’t they always freak-show weird?” said Percy Elkins.
The Elkins boys were hovering like starved ravens in the limbs of the pine tree.
“Yeah, blue eyes in a rummer girl—not right if you ask me. Some kind of dang birth defect,” said Pitt Elkins.
“Everybody in town knows it, brother,” Percy said. “You know they whisper, ‘You seen that Summerfield girl, just ain’t natural.’ Yep, I hear that all the time!”
Mattie grabbed Opal. “Come on,” she said just as Percy pounced. Mattie was kicked to the ground.
Both boys circled like wolves.
“You lose this?” Percy sneered. He dropped the rock, smeared with his brother’s blood, right on top of the apple crisp Opal was holding. The blood soaked into the clean white linen. Pitt circled up behind her.
Opal dropped everything and reached for her slingshot. Pitt batted it out of her hand. She lunged at him and they both fell into the dirt.
Percy just picked up the copper dish, leaned against the tree, and dug into the apple crisp, watching his brother and Opal roll around on the dusty park lawn.
Mattie was screaming. Percy ignored Mattie and just kept laughing, that is until he realized Opal was getting the best of his brother. She had pinned Pitt on his back and was popping him in the mouth with short, rapid punches.
Percy ran up and kicked Opal right in the ribs. The short fight was over. Pitt leapt to his feet, and Opal rolled over trying to suck air back into her lungs.
“Thanks for the treat.” Percy dumped the remaining bits of birthday crisp all over her.
The two boys ran off. Mattie was crying. Opal wanted to cry but steeled herself. She rolled back onto her feet. She tried to bend over to gather her things, but it hurt.
Opal Summerfield and The Battle of Fallmoon Gap Page 3