“The cow died?”
“In a water hole. Poor beast was too weak to pull her feet out of the mud. This young’un was bawling fit to be tied.”
She glanced at his pant leg, then raised an eyebrow, a slight hint of the girl he remembered in her eyes.
“Yeah, his mother didn’t have time to teach him good manners.”
“I’ll get some milk.” She waved as she headed back into the house.
Down at the barn McHenry dismounted, giving a grunt of pain when he put the weight on his right leg. He’d been too long in the saddle without a break, and now he was paying for it. Shame he’d not brought his medicinal flask along. A good pull or two and the whiskey dulled the knives ripping into his thigh muscles. When he got moving again, he lifted the calf down and carried it into the barn, where he found an empty box stall. He braced the calf while he fumbled for the latch, swung the door open, and laid the critter down with a grunt.
The baby bawled and thrashed his tied legs, struggling to get up in spite of the leather strings on his legs.
McHenry knelt and untied the knots, then rocked back on his heels as the calf aimed a kick at him and wobbled to his feet. The little one stood spraddle-legged to catch his breath, then tottered forward to inspect his surroundings, his plaintive calls for his mother echoing in the empty barn.
Opal eased her way in the door a few minutes later, a bucket with warmed milk in hand. She looked up at McHenry leaning against the stall half wall. “You know how to teach a calf to drink from a bucket?”
He shook his head. “The ones I knew all used their mother.”
“All right, then, let’s get a rope around his neck. I’ll braid him a halter or fashion a collar later, but for now you hold him, and I’ll see if I can get him sucking my fingers. Then I’ll lower my fingers into the bucket, and he’s supposed to start drinking.”
“Supposed to?”
“That’s the theory. Some learn faster than others.”
“Sort of like people, eh?”
“Right.”
Together they trapped the calf in the corner, and while McHenry held him there, she fetched the bucket and stroked the calf’s head and neck. “Easy now, baby, let’s get some milk into you, and then you can fuss all you want.” She stuck her fingers down in the milk, then held them in front of his nose. He reared back, but when she did it again, he sniffed, and when she eased her fingers into his mouth, he sucked. Keeping her fingers in his mouth, she lowered them into the bucket. He jerked back, almost knocking the bucket out of her hands, the milk sloshing.
McHenry grabbed for a more secure hold, winced when his weight landed full on his right leg, and muttered something that he apologized to Opal for.
“That’s all right. We’ll get this yet. Thought to use the milking stanchion, but his head is so small he’d probably pull right out.” She stood up and took a quieting breath. “Here we go, young sprout. Let’s try again. You’d think we were trying to kill you rather than feed you, the way you’re acting.” She dipped her fingers again, got him sucking them, then slowly lowered her fingers to the milk in the bucket. This time he followed her down and kept on sucking. His tail twitched like a metronome as he sucked and swallowed. He bopped the bucket, as calves do to get their mother to let down her milk. If Opal had not had lightning reflexes, she’d have had a milk bath. But with some fancy grappling, she managed to keep the bucket from flying away.
“You are good, my friend.” McHenry grinned at her. “Again?”
“Again. He’s learning.” Dip fingers, get him sucking, lower fingers, and sure enough, he drank again. Down to the last drop. Milk dripped from his mottled red-and-white muzzle as McHenry let him go and Opal set the bucket on the hard-packed dirt floor. The calf stuck his head back in the bucket, then bumped it over.
“And that’s your opinion on an empty bucket, eh, Sprout?” Opal actually smiled.
“Sprout? That’s his name already?”
“Sounds like a good one to me. Now to keep him alive without the scours.”
“Scours?”
Opal picked up the bucket and exited the stall. “The runs. Calves sometimes have a problem going from nursing the cow to bucket feeding. If we had a cow that had lost her calf, we’d see if we could get her to accept this one. You can skin the dead calf and wrap the hide around the orphan. The cow smells it and thinks it is her own. I don’t think we have any nurse cows this year.”
McHenry locked the stall door behind him and rested his crossed arms on the top. “He’s a cute little thing. Been through a lot already. Anything else we can do for him?”
“He’s too young to graze yet. If I had some straw, I’d throw it in here for him to lie on, but there’s no straw. No grass tall enough to cut either. Hmm, I wonder if Carl has some sawdust I could use.”
“I have some up where I’ve cut the trees but not enough to make a difference. I’ll check with Carl.”
“Thanks. You want to water Kentucky and turn him out in the corral?” She half smiled at McHenry. “You are staying for supper, aren’t you?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“If you need one. Ruby would skin you alive if you left without eating.”
“Since I need my skin, I’ll stay.” He glanced down at his manure-spattered leg. “I smell rather ripe.”
“You can wash that off at the pump. I’ll pump; you wash.” There it was again, just a hint of the girl who used to follow him, peppering him with questions about the West, about riding, fishing, the river. She had a sense of curiosity about anything and everything.
“Good.” He stopped at Kentucky’s side and began unlacing the cinch strap. “Opal?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s going to get better, I promise you.” He turned to catch a glistening in her blue eyes, then pulled his saddle off and, with a grunt, slung it over the corral rail.
“I’ll take Kentucky to the trough.” She flipped the horse’s reins loose from the rail and led him to the spring-fed water trough. “Not much, you know, but you feel pretty dry.” She stroked his shoulder. “That calf sure made a mess of you. I’ll clean you up after dinner.” After Kentucky took a few swallows, she pulled him away and led him to the entrance of the corral, where McHenry had pulled open the gate.
Once inside the corral, she slipped off his bridle and let him rub his forehead against her upper arm. “Good fella.” Slapping his neck, she stepped back and strode on out of the corral. Kentucky shook all over, snorting at the same time.
“You sure know your horses, young lady. Not too many people have taken care of him, mostly just me.”
“No matter that dent in his shoulder, he’s still a beauty. I remember that first Fourth of July celebration when you raced him. He’s some runner.”
“No more, but I might use him as a stud if I can find any mares. Be a good cross with range stock.” McHenry coughed. “Forgive me. I forget you are a young lady whose ears should not be soiled with such earthy talk.”
“Oh, for—” She glanced over her shoulder and he grinned at her. “You can treat me like a young lady when I’m dressed more like one, which is not often.”
“That evening at Pearl’s I could hardly believe it was you in that sapphire gown and your hair up. I wanted to go looking for the real Opal.” They stopped at the pump and made sure his pant leg and boot were washed until the water ran clear.
“Opa!” Per met them on the back porch where a gate had been closed so he couldn’t take off on his own. He raised his arms, and she swung him up on her hip. He stared at the visitor, one finger in his mouth.
“Per, this is Cap—ah, Mr. McHenry. He’s a friend of ours from a long time ago.”
“Pa?”
“He’s out on the range.”
She nodded her thanks as McHenry held the door open for her.
When they stepped into the kitchen, Ruby turned from the stove and smiled at them both. “Welcome. Make yourself at home.” She nodded toward the table. “Have a seat.”
“Rand said to tell you that he and Beans would not make it back for supper.”
“I’m not surprised. Thanks for passing on the message.”
McHenry took a seat and glanced around the room. This is what I want, he thought. I want what Rand has. A home with a wife and children. Lord, this is it. Not that I want his, for that is indeed coveting, but near as like it as you can manage.
“Did you see Belle when you went to Deadwood?” Ruby asked after they were settled at the table.
Jeremiah nodded without looking up. “I did.”
“She’s well?”
“Seems so. But she made it real clear she wasn’t happy to see me or anyone from up here.”
“That’s too bad,” Ruby said.
“Yes it is, and she looked pretty worn. Life’s not been easy for her. Not that she’d ever admit it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
From blizzard to burning hot and not much in between.
Jacob wiped the sweat pouring from his brow and wished he could do the same for the trickles down his back. Chopping wood did that to one, especially on a day like today. The bitterness of winter made spring even more of a delight to the senses. Since he had already repaired the wagon for haying season, sunk a new post in the corral, and replaced the shingles on the barn roof, he figured cutting wood would always be a priority. He was down to the last tree trunk that had been dragged in for firewood. Rand had told him of downed trees near the ranch, so one of these days he’d go out and begin stripping off the branches.
Opal was coming over this afternoon on her way back from the Heglands to give them all a refresher course in roping. While he’d asked for it for all of them, he meant it for himself. Ever since their talk, he’d been praying for her, that she would see God’s hand in all things and would trust that He would work good out of everything.
“I don’t know how you do it, Lord,” he said, swinging the ax down hard, “but I’ve seen you in action so many times that now I believe. ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”’ Sometimes it was good to declare the promises out loud.
You have to be looking to see me in action.
“I know. Please open my eyes that I may see. And, Lord, come to Opal in a special way. You know that I promised Rand I would not court her or let my feelings be known. Show me how to do that. Staying away hurt her, being with her—you know how I have to stay on guard in order to keep my pledge. And I will. I will not allow my desires to bring suffering again. God, give me strength.” He slammed the ax again, the shriek and slam of wood splitting, the thunk as the ax hit the block, all of it making a special kind of music, the bass beat of life.
“Jacob?” Cora no longer called him Mr. Chandler, which pleased him.
“Coming.”
“You don’t need to come now, but when you do, please bring in a load?”
“I will.”
“I’ll have fresh coffee on pretty soon, and the bread just came out of the oven.”
Such temptations. Jacob went back to his wood splitting and praying. The two seemed to go hand in hand.
“Lord, if I haven’t thanked you enough for your provisions for Joel and me in bringing us to this place, I’m thanking you again. Your Word says that you provide beyond our wildest dreams. And you even have a church here for me, one that needs a shepherd, and you prepared me to be that shepherd. You are bountiful beyond description, mighty God, king of kings.” He planted the ax down into the block and stacked his arm full of split wood. One of these days he planned to make a wheelbarrow so he could get wood to the house more easily, as could Joel, since the chore of filling the woodbox both morning and evening had fallen to him.
“I feel I should be out riding the range with Rand and the others,” he said after accepting his full coffee cup.
“Well, Rand said that with McHenry he had plenty of help, so I’d let it go at that. There’s enough work around here to keep three men and a boy busy, let alone one man, one boy, and a bunch of females.”
“That bunch of females, as you call yourselves, seem to accomplish about anything that needs doing. I’ll get to digging up the garden tomorrow.”
“Girls can dig and turn dirt over also. Many a garden I’ve dug up.”
Jacob smiled, thinking back to the mothers of marriageable daughters who had lived in his parish in Pennsylvania. Soiling their hands with garden work was not permissible. They would have worn gloves had they been forced into such servile labor. But then, most of his church members had lived in the town, a town that had pretensions of cityhood. Or at least dreamed of such. Now, cooking, baking, stitching, and sewing were much practiced, as were the wiles of snagging a good husband.
Things were certainly different out here.
Living here took a certain kind of ruggedness. Pearl, who came from a fairly wealthy family in Chicago, now ran the boardinghouse. And look how Medora de Mores rode out hunting with the men and was known as an excellent shot.
“Where did you live before you came here?” he asked, buttering the crunchy heel of the bread loaf.
“Ward and I came west from Missouri when our girls were young. Ada Mae was born here. We were some of the first settlers after the hunters and trappers. We liked the thought of living on the Little Missouri River, and when Ward came to check things out and saw the badlands, he lost his heart to the land. All he could see was grass so deep that cattle would surely fatten, and there was land for the taking. So he returned home, loaded us up in two wagons, and west we came. We had ten head of cattle, a milk cow, and a crate of chickens. That first year we lived in a dugout, what is now the cellar, then he cut trees for our house and the barn the next year. His brother came with us, but he didn’t care for the winters, so after three years he headed back home.”
“You’ve done all this work yourselves?”
“My Ward was the workingest man you ever did see. But he didn’t like his daughters doing a man’s job, so they excel in things of the house and garden. Now, thanks to you and Opal, they know how to work cattle too.”
“Will you stay?”
She tipped her head slightly to the side. “Why, Jacob, where would I go? I have all that I need right here. And my Ward is buried out there under that big oak tree. Someday they’ll plant me right beside him where I belong.” Her eyes glistened and her voice thickened. “Not a day goes by I don’t think on him and miss him.”
“You always are so composed, I thought…”
“That I’m not grieving?”
He nodded. “I suppose.”
“Oh, I could get married again if I chose. There are many men that have been around here, but when you’ve had the best…” Her voice caught. “I’ll see my daughters grown and married, and I’ll have grandbabies to enjoy. You watch, this land will come back. Might be a long time, but it will.” She reached over and patted his hand. “And God sent me you to help through this hardest part.” Leaning closer, as though she wanted to share a secret, she continued, “And I trust my heavenly Father to always provide what I need.”
“Thank you for telling me this. If I am to be the pastor for the church here, I need to get to know the people who will be the church.”
“True, and when you want to be doing that, you go ahead and go.”
“I have a favor to ask.” He took a deep breath.
“Of course.”
“I haven’t told you what it is yet.” Her smile made him think of his mother. “Would you pray for me? I mean, for me as the pastor of a church again. You know that I told God I wasn’t going to do this again, and yet here I am.”
“I promise to do so every day, and I already have been. All the women will pray for you, and I know some of the men will too. I want our church to be known as a praying church that loves one another. Like the church in Acts. I love the verse that says the people were awed at how they loved one another, and they were drawn to the church because of that. Wouldn’t that be an
amazing thing?”
Jacob stared at her. “I think I better study on Acts, then.” Could we have a New Testament church here in the middle of nowhere? He’d begun to think of Medora as miles from everywhere. The sound of horses’ hooves and laughter floated through the open front door.
“The girls are home. And Joel.” She patted Jacob’s hand. “Don’t you go worrying about all this. God will do what God will do. He promised. We just need to ask big.”
“You are so wise.”
“Thank you.”
“Ma!” Ada Mae burst through the door. “Someone put a mouse in Mr. Finch’s desk, and he made us all stay after school.” Pigtails flying, she threw her arms around her mother and giggled into her shoulder. “You should have seen him.”
“I do hope it wasn’t you.” Cora hugged her daughter.
“No.” Ada Mae looked up, the dusting of freckles across her nose bright against her winter-pale skin. “I can’t catch a mouse.”
“Which is a good thing.” Virginia followed her sister in, setting their saddlebags on the chair. “Hey, Mr. Chandler.”
“It wasn’t Joel, was it?”
“No. I don’t know who did it, but Mr. Finch was really mad. Wait until Opal hears this.”
“Who’s putting away the horses?” Cora asked.
“Joel.”
“You know better than to let him always do that. You girls take turns.”
“Take turns what?” Emily strolled in, untying her sunbonnet as she came. The others wore theirs on strings down their backs.
“With the horses.”
“He offered.”
“That’s because he is a gentleman.”
Ada Mae snorted at that and rolled her eyes.
“You girls go change your clothes and come have coffee and warm bread. I thought Opal was coming home with you.”
“She had something else to finish at Mrs. Hegland’s, so she’ll be along soon.” Virginia, the dreamer of the girls, smiled sweetly at Jacob. At fifteen, she was becoming a true prairie rose, with milky skin and pink cheeks. This would be her last year at the school, and since there was no higher school nearer than Dickinson, she would graduate in May.
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