Opal

by Lauraine Snelling

  After reading Psalm 139, Jacob continued. ‘‘Lord God, we commend our brother to your most merciful care, trusting that you have set the length of our days before we were even born. Believing in your divine goodness and your grace, which gives us the courage to go on living in a world gone awry with sin. Your grace sent your Son to die that we might live. Ward Robertson now walks with you in your kingdom of light. May we rejoice for him as we lay his earthly remains into the ground from which we came. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, until we meet again in paradise. Please pray with me. ‘Our Father which art in heaven . . .’’’

  The age-old words drifted upward as incense on the breeze, a sacrifice of faith through the veil of tears.

  After the amen Jacob lifted his arms. ‘‘‘The Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.’ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’’

  Silence reigned for a time as eyes were wiped. Finally Mrs.

  Robertson spoke. ‘‘Please come to the house for coffee and the food we have all prepared. Mr. Robertson was a quiet man, but he loved all of us and loved sharing what we had.’’ Cora Robertson wrapped her arms around her daughters and led the way down the gentle slope.

  Jacob took one shovel and, with a toss, dirt thudded down on the box. Rand took another, and the pile diminished swiftly.

  ‘‘I got a feeling there is more to you than an ordinary ranch hand.’’ Rand dumped another shovelful on the mound.

  Jacob leveled the dirt by standing on the edge now, the grave nearly filled. Was the hole within him being filled at the same time?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Opal’s fingers shook as she opened the letter.

  ‘‘Why are you afraid?’’ Penelope sat cross-legged on the grass, one of the baby bunnies nibbling a clover stem in her lap.

  Opal closed her eyes. I’m not afraid. Yes, I am. I am terrified Ruby will say I cannot come home, that I have to stay here.

  Guilt from her lack of gratitude weighted her shoulders. The Brandons had been nothing but good to her, and still all she could think of was home—and Atticus. He had not answered her letters. She pulled the paper from the envelope and unfolded it. All her tension released on a sigh.

  ‘‘You’re going home.’’

  ‘‘How do you know?’’

  ‘‘Your face. I haven’t seen you smile like that since you got here.’’

  Opal closed her eyes again, and with top teeth clamping her bottom lip, she shook her head. ‘‘I’m sorry I’ve not been a better guest.’’

  ‘‘You’ve been a fine guest. It’s just that I remember you laughing all the time and making me think anything could be all right if Opal thought so.’’

  ‘‘Thank you, dear sister.’’

  ‘‘You’re the same age as me, you know. But since you came back, you seem older than Alicia.’’

  Opal glanced back at her letter. Now that she knew she was about to receive a reprieve, she could well afford to wait.

  ‘‘Go ahead and read it. We all want to know what is happening in Dakotah Territory.’’

  Opal did, skimming the letter. ‘‘Oh no.’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘Mr. Robertson was shot and killed in a . . . a . . .’’ Her voice refused to work. The drifters. All my fault. Atticus beaten up, now Mr.Robertson killed. All my fault. She forced herself to finish reading. One of the drifters was dead, the other badly wounded but now in the Bismarck jail. And no news of Atticus. She let the letter fall in her lap, her initial joy overwhelmed by the tragic news.

  ‘‘Opal, what is it? Opal?’’ Penelope shook Opal’s hand.

  Opal heard her call as if from across the river or a butte. ‘‘II’m fine. Really I am.’’

  ‘‘Here.’’ Penelope handed her the pink-nosed bunny and leaped to her feet. ‘‘I’ll be right back.’’

  Opal cuddled the softest creature imaginable under her chin. The whiskers tickled, but she ignored that, concentrating on the little heart beating beneath her fingers. The baby sniffed her fingers and up the tender skin of her throat and chin.

  How will the Robertsons manage without their pa? They don’t have hired hands like Rand does. Haying must be starting now.

  ‘‘Opal, dear, what is it?’’ Mrs. Brandon knelt on the grass beside her.

  Opal slowly turned her head, blinking to make sure she recognized the woman backlit by the sun.

  ‘‘Mr. Robertson, our neighbor, was shot and killed when they cornered the two drifters.’’

  ‘‘The two drifters?’’ She laid a tender hand on Opal’s shoulder.

  ‘‘The ones who beat Atticus near to death.’’ The one who tried to attack me.

  ‘‘Oh, dear God.’’ Mrs. Brandon sank down and gathered Opal into her arms. ‘‘You poor darling.’’

  The comforting arms, the sweet-smelling headrest, and the stroking hands all combined, and Opal disintegrated in tears.

  ‘‘It’s all my fault. All of it is all my fault. Just because I went swimming.’’ She rambled on, half the time incoherent, other times the sobs drowning any words she tried to utter.

  Mrs. Brandon rocked her, murmuring mother things, bits of love and snatches of comfort that came from a well of mother love, ready always to bind up the brokenhearted.

  ‘‘Go get us something cool to drink,’’ she instructed Penelope.

  Penelope dashed away tears of compassion as she jumped up. ‘‘And a cold cloth?’’

  ‘‘Yes, dear.’’ Mrs. Brandon settled herself more comfortably and smoothed back the strands of hair that tears glued to Opal’s cheeks.

  The sobs lessened, tending more to sniffs and cries that caught in the throat.

  ‘‘Here.’’ Penelope handed her mother the cold cloth.

  Mrs. Brandon laid it across Opal’s eyes. ‘‘Just rest now, and then we’ll talk.’’

  Opal nodded and caught her breath on a leftover sob. The cushioning grass felt cool beneath her. ‘‘The bunny. Where’s the bunny?’’ She pushed upright, horror sending panic clear to her fingertips.

  ‘‘There, in your skirt. Penelope, take it.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I might have killed the bunny too.’’

  ‘‘Here, drink this.’’ Mrs. Brandon put the glass in her hands. ‘‘Drink.’’

  Opal gulped the tart lemonade. She set the glass down in the grass and used the cloth to mop her face. When a hankie appeared near her hand, she used that too.

  ‘‘Now are you ready to talk?’’

  ‘‘I-I guess.’’

  ‘‘I gather from what you’ve said and from what little Ruby wrote to me that you feel responsible for all the rough and cruel things that men have been doing in Medora.’’

  ‘‘Well, not everything, but . . . well . . . what has happened since I went swimming that day. If I’d—’’ ‘‘Opal, dear, we can say ‘if I’ did this or didn’t do that, things would be different, but what you did was an innocent thing, a—’’ Opal interrupted her. ‘‘Would your girls have gone swimming in a river all by themselves?’’

  ‘‘Would that they could have. How I envy the freedom you’ve had out there.’’

  ‘‘Really?’’

  ‘‘Really. When I was young, I would have gone to Africa or China had God called me there. I dreamed of adventuring in California or sailing the open sea.’’

  ‘‘You did?’’ Opal sniffed and stared at the same time.

  ‘‘I did, but life doesn’t always give us what we dream of, and we learn to enjoy what we have and are. That’s part of being the kind of Christian Paul talks about. Being content with what we have.’’

  ‘‘But I thought, I mean you . . .’’

  ‘‘Oh, I like nice things. I try to be the best mother and wife I can be. I like order and beauty around me. But life here can be very circumscribed, as you well know. Now, let’s get back to you.’’

/>   ‘‘But if I had stayed in school that day—’’ ‘‘Opal, dear. That was an innocent action. True, you might have been more careful, but that man chose to sin against you.

  That is where the fault lies.’’

  ‘‘I could have handled it differently. I goaded him.’’

  ‘‘Yes, you might have done differently, but we can never go back and undo what we did. We learn from our errors and go on. God does not want you to haul this burden of guilt around for the rest of your life.’’

  ‘‘But—’’ ‘‘Did you tell those men to go out and beat Atticus within an inch of his life?’’

  ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘Of course not. And the men went out to keep those two criminals from committing more violence. That too was beyond your control.’’

  ‘‘I still wish I had shot him at the time.’’

  ‘‘That, my dear Opal, is what is within your control.’’

  ‘‘But it is too late.’’

  ‘‘I know. And I will thank God for the rest of my life that you don’t have to carry the burden of killing a man.’’

  ‘‘So what do I do?’’

  ‘‘You go home, and you help the Robertsons deal with their grief. You comfort Atticus, if he will let you, and you strive to listen for God’s direction in everything you do.’’

  Opal sat up and turned to face Mrs. Brandon. ‘‘You think He’d tell me?’’

  ‘‘Oh yes. In His Word and in your heart. God our Father loves you, Opal dear. He always has, and He always will. On that I will stake my life.’’

  Mrs. Brandon leaned forward and cupped her hand around Opal’s cheek and jawline. ‘‘I will miss you, my dear. I was hoping you could learn to be happy here again and go to school with my children, but I know God has something special for you to do back home. I do see how much you love it there.’’

  ‘‘You’ll come to visit?’’

  ‘‘I would love to. Perhaps next summer.’’

  Mrs. Klaus came out and set a tray on the table between the two loungers. ‘‘I brought some more lemonade and cookies.’’

  Mrs. Brandon stood and helped Opal to her feet. ‘‘Come, let’s enjoy our treat, and then we will help you pack.’’

  The next morning the Brandons waved her off at the train. They were sending her home with an entire trunk of new clothes and gifts for the family.

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ Opal hugged Mrs. Brandon one last time. ‘‘I can never tell—’’ ‘‘Just let it all go, my dear. It is over.’’ She leaned back and cupped Opal’s face in her gloved hands. ‘‘There is always a place for you here, though I doubt Ruby will let you leave again.’’

  ‘‘No, with two little ones, she will really have her hands full. And besides, I need to teach Per to ride.’’

  ‘‘He just learned to walk.’’

  ‘‘Oh, he runs already, and you should see him on horseback. You’d think he could fly the way his arms get to going so fast.’’ Opal hugged Jason, or at least as much as he could stand. ‘‘Remember, you are spending part of next summer on the ranch. You might even get to meet your hero.’’

  ‘‘And you’ll send me a rope so I can practice up?’’

  ‘‘Yes. Wish I’d brought mine so you’d have a head start. If you see Mr. Roosevelt, greet him for me.’’

  Lastly she hugged Alicia and then Penelope, who burst into tears. ‘‘I so wanted you to stay and go to school with us,’’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘‘But I know how you love the ranch and need to go home. You’ll write to us?’’

  Her own eyes wet, Opal gave Penelope an extra squeeze. ‘‘Yes. And you write to me too.’’

  She looked over her shoulder and waved one last time before entering the railcar and finding a seat by the window so she could wave even more. Now that she was truly on her way home, she could feel sad that she was leaving. And appreciate more what the Brandons had done for her.

  But the train could not go fast enough to suit her.

  Several days later, on July 31, 1886, she stood in the doorway as the train pulled into Medora, brakes screeching and steam billowing. If she hadn’t had all those skirts in the way, she’d have leaped down before it fully stopped. Instead, she waited for the conductor to put the step in place and assist her down. Her teal blue traveling gown had a slight bustle with the front skirt in a straight panel falling just to the tops of her fine leather boots. She’d just put the jacket back on, since even moving, the train felt like an oven. The tiny boat-shaped hat nestled in the waves of her hair, and a feather swooped backward.

  ‘‘Opal, is that really you?’’ Rand held Per in one arm.

  ‘‘Per?’’ Opal stopped at the sight of Per hiding his head on his pa’s shoulder. ‘‘He’s forgotten me.’’

  ‘‘No. He just doesn’t recognize you dressed so lovely.’’ Ruby gave her little sister a long hug, then stepped back to look at her again. ‘‘We sent them a girl, and they returned a young lady to us. Opal, you look like you stepped right out of the pages of Godey’s Lady’s Book.’’

  ‘‘Wait until you see the rest of the things. I don’t know where I’ll ever wear them out here.’’ She dug in her reticule and pulled out a packet of peppermint drops. ‘‘Think this will bribe him?’’ She handed it to Per. ‘‘Candy. Put it in your mouth.’’

  He did so, then pulled it out again and waved it in the air, a grin buckling his cheeks. One swipe caught his father on the cheek.

  ‘‘Get that in my mustache, young fellow, and we will have a serious discussion.’’

  ‘‘That’s my trunk over there.’’

  Rand handed Per to Ruby. ‘‘You take him. I’ll get the trunk.’’

  Per on her hip, Ruby linked arms with Opal. ‘‘I’ll never be able to tell you how much I missed you.’’

  ‘‘They want me to come back. I think at least Jason will come here next summer. I have to send him a rope with instructions. I can see him roping Mr. Klaus.’’

  ‘‘No, Per.’’ Ruby kept him from grabbing Opal’s hat.

  ‘‘You should have seen the look on Alicia’s face when I told her I usually wear britches.’’ Opal held her skirt with one hand while Rand handed her up to the wagon seat. Ruby and Per climbed over the wheel and into the back. Rand stepped up on his side and unwrapped the reins from around the brake handle.

  ‘‘I should just let you drive them home. Get you back in the swing of things.’’

  Opal turned her gloved hands palms up. ‘‘I think I lost all my calluses. I’m going to have to start toughening them up again.’’ She paused and turned to look at Rand. ‘‘Did you sell the filly?’’

  ‘‘Yes. Mrs. de Mores bought her.’’

  ‘‘Medora bought the filly?’’

  ‘‘For four hundred dollars. All because you had trained her so well. She said you should come by and visit her if you like. She also said she would like you to go along on the next hunting trip.’’

  Opal leaned against the seat back. ‘‘I can’t believe you got that much.’’

  ‘‘I was some surprised. She asked how much, and off the top of my head, I said five hundred. She said three. I said four and she said sold.’’

  ‘‘Firelight’s a flashy mount and rides nice and easy.’’ Opal sighed. ‘‘You sold the gelding also?’’

  ‘‘Yep.’’

  ‘‘So I don’t have anything to work with.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’’

  ‘‘Why?’’

  Rand turned and looked over his shoulder and winked at Ruby. ‘‘Should we tell her or make her wait?’’

  ‘‘Tell her.’’

  ‘‘No. I think she should wait.’’

  ‘‘Rand.’’ Opal stopped for a moment and inhaled fresh, sweet Dakotah air. ‘‘All right, I’ll wait, but two can play at that game.’’

  Ruby laughed, and that set Per to laughing, which made Opal giggle. She reached up and unpinned her hat, then unbuttoned the pearl buttons going up the points from the slee
ve hems and those up the front of the jacket.

  ‘‘Getting warm?’’ Rand glanced over at her. ‘‘You do truly look lovely, young lady. Welcome home.’’

  ‘‘Thank you.’’ Opal nibbled her lip. ‘‘How are the Robert-sons?’’

  ‘‘The girls are waiting for you to teach them ranch stuff. Their pa never did want them helping at roundup or such. Other than the cooking and serving,’’ he added after a poke from Ruby.

  ‘‘I promised them you would go over as soon as you got home and settled.’’ Ruby reached up to take Opal’s hand.

  ‘‘You mean change my clothes?’’

  ‘‘Well, I didn’t exactly expect you to come home looking like a fashion plate, but then, I wasn’t surprised either.’’

  ‘‘There are some things for you in my trunk too. Although what you and I think of as serviceable and what they think don’t exactly match.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure.’’ Ruby unwound Per’s fingers from her hair. He’d used her as a standing post and grabbed whatever he could when the wagon hit a rut. ‘‘We have some more good news at home too.’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘We’ll be having another baby.’’

  ‘‘Twins?’’ Opal turned, shock turning eyes and mouth to Os.

  ‘‘No. Little Squirrel is in the family way too. She’s so happy.

  Linc is popping his buttons.’’

  ‘‘How wonderful.’’ And Atticus? How is he? ‘‘Thought I’d go see Atticus soon as I can.’’

  When neither of them commented, Opal turned to look at her sister. Rand had donned his poker face.

  ‘‘All right. What is it you don’t want me to know?’’

  ‘‘The Gradys are leaving the badlands.’’

  Rand’s words struck like tiny arrow points, each drawing blood.

  ‘‘Atticus too?’’

  ‘‘Yes. He’s still too weak to manage on his own, and though the fits seem to have tapered off, he has to use a crutch to get around.’’

  ‘‘His foot was broken too?’’

  Rand nodded. ‘‘We don’t see much of him.’’

  ‘‘Have you gone over there?’’