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Opal

Page 29

by Lauraine Snelling


  ‘‘She does, does she? Has she said what she thinks she is having?’’ ‘‘Didn’t ask. Did you know that human babies and calves take about the same time to grow big enough to be born?’’

  ‘‘And horses take another month. Rand informed me of that. I make enough trips to the outhouse now that I’m wearing a rut in the path.’’

  ‘‘Is that usual?’’

  ‘‘Yes. It was the same with Per.’’ Ruby made her way out the back door, carefully shutting it so the slam wouldn’t wake anyone.

  Opal read to the end of her chapter and replaced the bit of paper she used as a bookmark. She slid her books into her saddlebags so she would be ready to go in the morning and hung them up out of Per’s reach. He loved taking anything out of anywhere, but he failed in the putting things back department.

  The next morning after chores Opal finished her breakfast quickly and set her bowl and spoon in the dishpan on the stove. ‘‘I’m heading to Pearl’s now.’’ She turned to Ruby as she wiped her hands on the towel hanging on the hook for just that purpose.

  ‘‘Will you go by the store before you come home?’’ Ruby handed her a short list. ‘‘You should be able to fit these in your saddlebags or that tow sack there.’’

  ‘‘I guess. I’m stopping at the Robertsons’ too. I can’t let those young wranglers get too out of practice.’’

  ‘‘Tell Cora hello for me and that I’m thinking on the quilting bee Pearl suggested. We need to make that a regular meeting this winter. Sometimes I miss how easy we all had it at Dove House, the way we could sit and visit in the evenings on the back porch.’’

  ‘‘I never thought it was easy. We worked all the time.’’

  ‘‘Think of the taffy pulls and popcorn parties, the singing around the piano, taking turns reading. I was so proud of you, the way you taught the girls to read and write. Opal, dear, you are an excellent teacher. You know that?’’

  ‘‘I’d rather teach horses than people.’’ Opal slung her bags over her shoulder. She stooped down to give Per a hug, then tickled his tummy. ‘‘Don’t you go sticking out that lip. A bird will come and sit on it.’’

  ‘‘Bird. Opa, up.’’ He raised his arms, eyes pleading.

  She hugged him quick and beat it out the door before he started to cry. Ignoring his tears, like Ruby said she should do, tore at her heart.

  The morning passed like two blinks. Pearl even made geometry interesting.

  ‘‘Now, say you were going to build a barn. You need to know how many square feet you will need, how tall the walls, the pitch of the roof, the angles on the rafters, how to square all the corners.’’

  Opal shook her head. ‘‘I never thought of that.’’

  When her lessons were finished, she helped Pearl scrub the floors and bake cookies, wrote down her assignments, and then rode on into town.

  Waiting for Mr. Adams to add up her purchases took even more time because he was busy with another customer. So by the time she left town, school had already let out and the pupils gone on home. A glance over at the river reminded her of Atticus. If only they could go fishing again. Some days it seemed like that had all happened in a different lifetime. Other times, especially at night, it came back in a rush. Oh, Atticus, have you forgiven me? Do you think of me and remember the good times?

  The ride on south smelled like fall. Dry grass, dry earth, sunflowers, and blue asters. She puzzled on Atticus as her horse jogged up the hill. Would he ever write to her? Would he return?

  Off to the west, the grand house the marquis built crowned the hill, the orchard and garden closer down to the river. Mrs. de Mores had already left with the children, since they would attend school in New York.

  That thought brought on another. She could have been going to school in New York this year. She shuddered and inadvertently twitched the reins, causing her horse to pick up the pace. ‘‘Sorry.’’ She tightened the reins just a smidgen and settled back into a slow lope that ate up the miles. Some horses never got the hang of that easy gait, either pounding the rider to death on a hard jog or fighting the bit all the time to gallop. But riding Bay’s lope was as easy as sitting in Ruby’s rocking chair.

  She eased back when they crested the hill that led down to the Robertson place. No one was working in the corral or out in the pasture. Two saddled horses stood at the corral gate dozing in the sun.

  She rode up to the house and dismounted, flipping the reins over the hitching rail. ‘‘Anybody home?’’ She could hear a hammer pounding from the barn.

  ‘‘Opal, come on in,’’ Mrs. Robertson called. ‘‘I just poured the buttermilk, and the cookies are hot from the oven.’’

  ‘‘Smells good in here.’’

  ‘‘Emily, go on down to the barn and tell Mr. Chandler to join us.’’

  ‘‘I will.’’ Edith brushed past Opal in her rush to get out the door.

  Opal stared after her. And hello to you too.

  ‘‘Don’t mind her. She thinks Mr. Chandler is her own—’’ ‘‘Ada Mae.’’

  ‘‘Well, she’s all goggle-eyed over him.’’ Ada Mae shook her head in total disgust.

  ‘‘Someday you’re going to do the same thing.’’ Mrs. Robertson pointed to a chair. ‘‘Sit there, Opal. My goodness, girl, but it seems ages since you’ve been here.’’

  ‘‘Where’s Joel?’’

  ‘‘Out changing his clothes. He’s been practicing like you said to. Every day.’’ Virginia passed the cookie plate. ‘‘Me and Ada Mae too.’’

  ‘‘Ada Mae and I.’’ Her mother made the correction without a glance.

  ‘‘Ah, Ma.’’

  Opal rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. ‘‘Ruby corrected me all the time too.’’

  Ada Mae leaned closer. ‘‘It don’t matter, I don’t think.’’

  ‘‘You don’t want to sound uneducated, do you?’’

  Ada Mae shrugged and took a large bite of cookie.

  ‘‘The way you talk and your manners say a lot about the upbringing you’ve had. Your grandmother would choke if she heard you talking that way.’’

  Ada Mae sighed again. ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

  Opal heard Edith and Mr. Chandler talking before their steps echoed on the porch. At least Edith was talking.

  ‘‘Howdy, Miss Torvald.’’ Mr. Chandler removed his hat when he came in the door. ‘‘Good to see you.’’

  ‘‘You’re looking some better than the last time I saw you.’’

  ‘‘I imagine.’’

  ‘‘Ma’s finally allowed him up on the promise that if he gets dizzy he’ll take it easy again.’’ Emily reached for a cookie.

  Opal caught a look sent by the eldest sister that would fry an egg.

  He certainly is a fine-looking man. No wonder Edith is all goggle-eyed. The thought caught her by surprise. What difference did it make how he looked? What counted was what kind of cowboy he’d make come fall roundup. She studied the man as he sat down. He seemed a bit stiff yet, and he held his head as if he didn’t want it moving too much. He turned and caught her gaze, a slow smile warming his face. ‘‘I thought perhaps we could do some calf roping or something. I could use some more practice.’’

  Opal swallowed and took another bite of her cookie. One sip of buttermilk wasn’t enough to loosen up her throat, so she took another, this time choking on the cookie crumbs.

  ‘‘You all right?’’ Emily thumped her on the back.

  ‘‘I will be. Let’s get out there before I have to head on home.’’ She coughed again and patted her chest. ‘‘Just swallowed wrong.’’

  ‘‘Buttermilk too strong for you?’’

  Opal glanced up at the sting in Edith’s voice. Now, what brought that on?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘‘The way things are looking, I’m thinking we ought to start our roundup sooner than the rest.’’ Rand stared out the window at the frost-painted ground. Just what they needed—an early frost. Not even mid-September, and what little
green had been left from all the grazing was quickly succumbing to frost brown. ‘‘I’m thinking to keep the cows closer to home if we can. Sometimes fences are not a bad thing.’’

  ‘‘If we did it on a Saturday and Sunday, all my young ropers would be available to help.’’ Opal joined him at the window.

  ‘‘Good point. Let them, and you, see what a real roundup is like.’’

  ‘‘Let’s see, how many steers have we already helped bring in and ship out for both spreads?’’ The innocent look she gave him made him smile. Her students, all but for Mr. Chandler, who still got dizzy when he tried to sit a horse, had proven themselves adept at flushing the steers out of the brush, molding them into a herd, and not only bringing them home but driving them to the stock corrals in Medora.

  ‘‘You can be right proud of them.’’

  ‘‘I am.’’ Of that and of the horses I’ve trained, even though women aren’t supposed to be good at such things. The teasing she’d gotten at first still rankled at times. But the men had had to eat their words, dust and all, when the horses she’d trained outperformed the half-wild ponies they usually rode. Gentling a horse was proving a lot better than breaking one any day. Not that most of the men would admit such a thing.

  ‘‘Wish we had a few more horses to be worked this fall.’’

  ‘‘We?’’

  ‘‘Well, me.’’

  ‘‘Let’s get roundup over with and see what happens. I’m hearing rumblings that local beeves aren’t in good enough shape to earn top dollar. Sure glad most of ours are already gone.’’ Rand reached for his hat and shrugged into a wool vest. ‘‘If we’d get a good rain and a long Indian summer, there’d be something out there for them to eat this winter.’’

  The next morning they were on their horses by the barn as the sky paled from indigo to pale cream. Visible clouds of breath from both horses and humans hung on the still air.

  ‘‘We’ll work in pairs like we did before. Each of you men take a youngster under your wing. Mr. Chandler will drive the cook wagon. We’ll start west of the river. Most of the cattle are ranging on that side, heading south. Bring in anything, and we’ll drive the odds over to the Triple Seven.’’ He whistled for Ghost, and they all headed for the river.

  Opal held back, since she’d been assigned the job of horse wrangler for the day. They would all take turns wrangling or searching except for Mr. Chandler, who was filling in for Beans. When the horse herd reached the other side of the river, she whistled and swung her rope to keep them moving. The riders would ride a horse one day, then give it a rest the next, even though they planned to be home by dark on Sunday. She already wished she’d started with Bay but knew the horse she rode needed more experience to become a top cow pony.

  They rode five miles or so before Rand signaled the cook wagon to stop. ‘‘We’ll camp here tonight, so have supper ready just before dark. Opal, you come on with me. Virginia, you keep track of the horses. Don’t let them graze too far out. Keep in sight of the wagon.’’ He pointed them all in different directions and the hunt began.

  ‘‘Wish we had another Ghost.’’ Rand glanced over his shoulder. ‘‘The way that wind is picking up, we might be in for a downpour.’’ ‘‘Good and bad either way.’’ Opal pulled her hat down more snugly and slid the bead up the strings that often held the hat on her back rather than her head.

  Hours later, after dodging branches and the horns of angry cattle, soaked from the rain squalls that blew through, and feeling as though she’d been in the saddle for days rather than hours, Opal trailed the twenty head they’d found while Rand and Ghost searched the last coulee. A cow and her half-grown calf broke out in front of them, and her bawling made the others restless. Horns clattered as those in the herd shook their heads and bawled back. Opal eased up alongside the outer rim, ready to leap ahead and turn the leaders if necessary. Her heart thumped, pumping warmth into her arms and hands and down to her feet, feet that seemed without feeling from the long time in the stirrups.

  ‘‘Hold them!’’ Rand’s voice floated across the slow-moving herd.

  Opal looked down to see Ghost smiling up at her, as if to say, no worry, we’ll take care of this.

  When things settled down, Rand and Ghost took off again, leaving Opal a bit disgruntled that he wasn’t letting her have some of the action. She felt pretty sure the other kids were feeling the same way.

  ‘‘But you know this is equally important.’’ She’d caught herself talking out loud just to hear a human voice instead of only bawling cattle. Up ahead she saw another small herd heading back to the campsite. Joel turned and waved to her. At least the rain had tamed the dust. Lowering clouds hinted at more to come.

  By dusk all the drovers had their cattle in camp, and after a drink from one of the deeper holes of a mostly dried up creek, the herd settled down.

  ‘‘Come and get it,’’ Chandler hollered loud enough to be heard over the cattle and the wind.

  All but Joe, who’d been assigned first watch, loosed their horses into the remuda and stumbled back to camp. It took a while for the ground to quit coming up to meet their boot soles after being in the saddle all day.

  ‘‘I’m hungry enough to eat that whole pot.’’ Joel got in line behind Beans.

  ‘‘Chandler made plenty. Sure some different to ride herd all day rather than cook.’’ Beans bent his knees, which creaked a complaint. ‘‘Must be gettin’ old.’’ He took a tin plate off the stack and waited for Jacob to load on the beans, biscuits, and baked venison. ‘‘Looks mighty good, young feller.’’

  ‘‘I learned from a good teacher.’’ Jacob smiled at the older man. ‘‘Just don’t ask me to bake a cake on that thing.’’ He nodded toward the rack over the ripe coals. ‘‘You can thank Mrs. Harrison for the dessert tonight.’’

  ‘‘What did she send?’’

  ‘‘A big pan of gingerbread.’’

  Within minutes everyone had a plateful and found seats either on wood chunks or the wagon tongue. Opal grinned when Ada Mae squatted with her spurs on and nearly dumped her plate getting upright. Most people made that mistake only once. Halfway through the meal the rain started up again, blowing in sheer curtains across the land.

  ‘‘At least there’s no thunder and lightning.’’ Rand leaned against a wagon wheel, scraping the remains off his plate with a final biscuit.

  ‘‘That would spook the cattle?’’ Joel left off poking a stick into the coals.

  ‘‘Been known to. You young’uns did a mighty fine job today.’’

  Rand nodded and smiled at each of them. ‘‘Glad to have you along.’’

  Thank-yous echoed from around the fire. Raindrops sizzled.

  Opal fought to keep her eyes open, and she could see Ada Mae leaning against her sister. The thought of leaning against a shoulder brought her right awake. The shoulder she’d thought of belonged to Mr. Chandler.

  ‘‘Linc, you go relieve Joe so he can eat. There is plenty left for him, isn’t there?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir. I set some back.’’ Chandler turned from washing off the plates they’d all dropped into the dishwater.

  Opal twitched her mouth from side to side. Should she offer to help clean up? Why? None of the others did. Her eyes drifted closed.

  ‘‘You kids spread your bedrolls under the wagon. I reckon that’ll keep you some dry. Chaps, you take second watch, and I’ll do third. Beans, you can help Chandler with breakfast so we can hit the trail right early. You might all pray that we get no lightning and thunder tonight.’’

  Opal laid the canvas down first, than folded her quilt in half and folded the other half of the canvas over it so she had a snug cocoon that she hoped would stay dry. Never thought I’d be so tired I could sleep standing up. On one hand, she was grateful for the rain they needed so badly. On the other, she hated being wet, or at least sleeping wet, about as much as Cat used to. Under the covers she shucked off her wet britches and tucked both boots and britches, along with her sheepskin jacket,
under her quilt to make a crazy sort of pillow. She sighed. That was about as much as she could do to keep them from getting wetter. Whatever happened to singing around the campfire and swapping tall tales like the men said they often did on a long trail ride? Rain, that’s what. Knowing the answer didn’t help alleviate her feeling cheated.

  In spite of the dirt clod digging into her hip, she fell asleep before she could even ask how the others were doing. Sometime during the night something woke her. She lay listening so hard she held her breath. When it came again, shivers ran up and down her spine, all the way to tingling her toes. Wolves. Their plaintive howls echoed across the prairie. Songs without words. Or was it Indians? She’d heard that attacking Indians imitated animal noises. Go to sleep. There’ve been no Indian attacks around here. But her orders to herself failed. The eerie howls came again. Restless bellers came from the bedded-down herd. A horse whinnied and another answered.

  She started to peel back the covers from her warm nest when another sound settled her down again.

  ‘‘Jesus walked dis lonesome valley. . . .’’ Linc’s deep voice raised in the old songs of his people floated peace across the camp. ‘‘He had to walk it by hisself. Nobody else could walk it for him; he had to walk it by hisself.’’

  Another voice joined in. Rand’s.

  Did she believe that Jesus was indeed walking—riding—right beside them? She’d always said she did, and now in the wee hours of the morning, she clung to that faith. I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. One of the verses she’d memorized at Ruby’s insistence echoed in her mind. Lo, I am with you always. Sheltered under His mighty wings, held in the palm of His hand. The verses flowed like a spring that never ran dry, bubbling up comfort and peace that let her sleep again.

  ‘‘All right, cowboys, up and at ’em.’’

  Opal blinked in the darkness. Had the wolf songs been a dream? She could hear the others muttering as they dressed under the covers. Out to the west a star hung low on the horizon. Light lined the distant horizon on the east, a thin band that struggled to overcome the dark dome.

 

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