Opal (15 page)
Joel’s eyes flinched. No other part of him moved, but his lashes came halfway to his cheeks, giving him a pinched look. Just the tiniest motion indicated a no, but had Jacob not been watching so carefully, he would not have seen it.
‘‘Eat your sandwich. I’m not going to bite you.’’
Are you just
shy? Frightened with all this change? I know I would be. How, Lord, do I
decipher this puzzle?
By the time they’d slept another night, changed trains again in St. Paul, and chugged west, Jacob felt they might fall off the end of the world. At last the conductor stopped at their seats and announced, ‘‘Medora, next stop.’’ Joel had not uttered enough words to fill his hand should each word be the size of a dried bean.
No matter how often he looked up, he’d felt the boy’s gaze on him. Unless the child slept. How much of the time he’d been lying under the quilt had he really been sleeping? Or was he merely hiding?
When the train screeched to a stop, Jacob lifted his valise out of the overhead rack, folded Joel’s quilt up as small as possible, and stuffed it into the top of an already overloaded satchel.
God, I certainly hope I’ve made the right decision
. ‘‘Thank you.’’ He nodded to the man who’d answered many of his questions since St. Paul. Now to find out if the man had been spinning yarns or telling the truth.
‘‘Opal, what’s the matter?’’ Ruby asked.
Guess I didn’t do too good a job hiding my feelings
. Opal gritted her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides.
I am not scared
.
‘‘I thought you’d have such a good time this last day of school.’’ Ruby wiped her hands on her apron and came to Opal, who dropped her saddlebags and reached out for her sister. ‘‘What is it, dear heart? Opal, are you crying?’’
‘‘N-no.’’ Opal sniffed back the tears that burned so bad her eyes felt on fire.
‘‘Are you sick? Hurt? What is it?’’ Ruby clasped Opal’s shoulders and leaned back so she could look into her face.
‘‘We were riding through town to come home, and th-that drifter was riding toward us, along with another guy who looked about as bad.’’ There, she’d said it.
‘‘Oh, dear Lord.’’ Ruby hugged her again. ‘‘Did he see you?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I ducked between the buildings. How come he was so stupid as to come back?’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘I should have just shot him when I had the chance.’’ Opal glanced over to the gun rack. ‘‘I should have.’’
‘‘Opal, don’t talk that way! There’s a big difference between killing an animal and killing a man.’’
‘‘He’s worse than any animal I ever saw.’’
‘‘Yes, some men can be like that.’’
Opal stared out the window, then spun around, her face alight. ‘‘We could invite him out here to talk and go dump him in one of those quicksand places on the river.’’
‘‘Opal Marie Torvald, I don’t ever want to hear such words again. You know what the Bible says about killing.’’ Ruby set the stove lid aside with a clatter and picked two chunks of wood from the woodbox.
‘‘Ah, Ruby, I was just teasing. Besides, that way the river would get him, not us.’’ Opal gave her sister a sideways glance along with an appeasing grin.
‘‘Opal.’’ She stuffed the wood into the firebox and carefully set the lid in place.
‘‘A joke, Ruby, a joke.’’ Opal raised her hands halfway and let them fall to her sides.
I never should have told her he’s back. Now she’ll
be more after me than ever
. ‘‘Where’s Per?’’
‘‘Sleeping.’’ Ruby stared at the stove. ‘‘If I didn’t wake him.’’
‘‘Here.’’ Opal hefted her saddlebags. ‘‘Come see what I got. I could have brought home prairie chickens if I’d had my gun. A whole covey blew up along the road home. Fried prairie chicken would taste real good for supper.’’ She set her saddlebags on the table. ‘‘Where’s Little Squirrel?’’
‘‘She and Linc went fishing. Beans came back and took Rand and Chaps out to help rescue a couple of steers that got caught in a bog.’’
‘‘Here’s all my prizes.’’ Opal set her books, tablets, pencils, and blue ribbons on the table. ‘‘Pretty good, huh? I won the spelling bee. Virginia failed on
nihilistic
.’’
‘‘Good for you.’’
Opal could tell her sister was still distracted. ‘‘You should have seen Robert win the arithmetic bee. Atticus must be busting his buttons, he’s so proud.’’ Opal studied her sister. ‘‘It’s started to rain.’’
Ruby nodded.
She’s not listening at all
. The sun was glorious outside. Opal gathered her things together to carry to her room. No sense wasting time with Ruby. She should never have mentioned anything about the drifter. Here she felt better, and now Ruby was all worried.
Dumb bunny, why don’t you just keep some things to yourself or wait
and tell Rand? He’d know what to do
. Opal scolded herself as she changed into chores clothes—britches and her old boots. She buckled her belt back around her waist and rolled up the sleeves on her shirt. The filly was ready to take out to work the cows, although most cowboys refused to use a filly or mare, since they caused trouble when they were in heat. Firelight had good enough bloodlines to make a good broodmare, but if she was cattle trained, she might sell easier and for a larger profit.
Opal peeked into Rand and Ruby’s room and saw Per still sound asleep. She tiptoed back out and stopped at the table to cut herself two thick slices of bread to spread with butter and jam. Today she’d not even take time for buttermilk. Even though she was home earlier than usual, there was so much to do.
Ruby was sitting on the back porch, her Bible in her lap, eyes closed.
Opal started on by but stopped at Ruby’s pronouncement.
‘‘Stay within sight of the house.’’
‘‘But, Ruby.’’
‘‘No argument. Stay close to home.’’
‘‘But I was going to work Firelight with cattle today.’’
Ruby opened her eyes. ‘‘I said, no argument.’’
Opal stomped off the porch and down to the corral.
Wish I
had never told her. Dumb, just plain sheep dumb. That’s what you are
. At the moment she couldn’t think of anything dumber than sheep. Unless it was her.
She took her rope off the hook in the barn and headed for the horse pasture. While Bay always came when she whistled, the filly hadn’t learned that yet. She walked on down to where the horses grazed, dropped a loop over Firelight’s head, and led her back to the corral. ‘‘You’re next,’’ she warned the dark gelding. He really needed a name, but so far she’d not come up with a good one. He was low on personality, not nearly as smart as the filly.
‘‘All right, with no cattle nearby, I guess we rope the post.’’
She’d been working her on backing and standing. The first time the rope flew by her head, the horse leaped to the side. ‘‘Easy, girl. That’s no way to behave.’’ By the time Opal lassoed the snubbing post a dozen times her mount knew enough to ignore the whirl of the flying rope.
After about an hour Opal had forgotten all about the drifter, Ruby’s concern, and school being over, concentrating instead on freeing the filly and catching the gelding, only to start all over again on reining, leg work, and sliding stops. Soon sweat spots dotted the animal’s neck, and Opal took him out of the corral to cool him out. She patted his neck. ‘‘You did good, son. Maybe we should call you Will, short for willing. How’d you like to be called Will?’’ His ears swiveled back and forth, listening to her and keeping track of all else around them.
The sun was angling toward Chimney Butte by the time she let him go back into the fenced pasture with the broodmares, two of which should be foaling any time.
After putting away her gear, Opal checked on the sow, picked the eggs, and headed for the springhouse with the basket.
Ghost’s barking stopped her short. The drifter. She’d forgotten all about him. Could it be. . . ? But she turned to see Ghost dashing toward the river where the men and horses were swimming across the last stretch, Rand in the lead. At this time of year the Little Missouri was treacherous with shifting sandbars, holes, and quicksand. Not too many places were safe to cross, but the stretch that bordered the homeplace was blessed to be one.
Even the memory made her jaw tighten. That man had the ability to ruin an otherwise perfect day. Better to get this over with before Ruby talked with Rand.
‘‘You guys look like you been rolling in the mud.’’
‘‘You should see those steers. You’d think if one got caught, the others would stay out of the mud, wouldn’t you?’’ Chaps stepped from his horse and glared down at his leather chaps. ‘‘Shoulda swam across the river.’’
Rand dismounted and gave a jerk on the leather strap holding the girth of his saddle tight.
Opal gnawed on her bottom lip. If she didn’t talk quick, she’d be late milking Fawn and even later for supper.
Catching a movement out of the side of her eye, she looked toward the river where Linc and Little Squirrel were carrying their catch back to the house.
‘‘Looks like fish for breakfast.’’
Rand glanced over the rump of his horse. ‘‘Looks like we’ll be smoking some too. They really did well.’’
I’d rather have been fishing too
. Opal sighed.
While the others were teasing Joe, who had rode down from the buttes on the eastern side of the river and hadn’t had a mud bath, Rand glanced down at her, at the same time working on the rear cinch. ‘‘So what’s happened now?’’
‘‘The last day of school was great until we were riding out of town and I saw that drifter again. He had another man with him.’’
She watched Rand’s face but caught only a slight tightening of his jaw. ‘‘We ducked between two buildings. I don’t think he saw us.’’
‘‘I’d heard he was in town. He knows where you live by now.’’
‘‘Why’d he have to come back?’’
‘‘Plenty going on in Medora.’’
‘‘Not for his kind.’’
‘‘No, but Little Missouri still has an abundance of booze and gambling.’’ Rand swung the saddle off his horse. ‘‘Sure wish I’d been riding Buck today. This knothead doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.’’
‘‘So what do we do?’’
‘‘Nothing tonight. Give me some time to think on it.’’ He handed the reins to Chaps. ‘‘You take them out to the pasture, please.’’
‘‘Sure, Boss.’’
‘‘You told Ruby yet?’’
Opal nodded. ‘‘She’s some upset.’’
‘‘No doubt. You done milking yet?’’
‘‘No, sir. I was just getting to it.’’
‘‘Keep this under your hat for now, all right? I don’t want anyone going off half-cocked.’’
‘‘Yes, sir.’’
Rand gave a tug on her thick braid. ‘‘It’ll be all right, Opal.’’
‘‘I sure hope so.’’
‘‘Hope’s not good enough. We need to do some serious praying. God promised to be our protector, remember?’’
Opal didn’t answer but whistled for Ghost to bring Fawn in. Not that the dog was really needed, since the milk cow was standing by the gate waiting for them. Somehow she just felt safer with Ghost around.
She studied the buttes around the rim of their valley. Everything looked as usual. The blackbirds sang from the thickets; two crows flew overhead scolding each other or the dog below them. Fawn mooed gently; a horse snorted and then, knees buckling, dropped to the ground and rolled, legs kicking, his grunts of pleasure carrying on the cooling air. When he finally rolled completely over, he surged to his feet and shook, dust flying in a cloud around him.
Opal let down the bars on the fence, Fawn walked through, and she slid the bars back into their slots. She and Ghost followed the cow to the barn, where she dropped the block to hold the stanchion closed, then went for a scoop of grain. Fawn’s calf came into his stall from outside, announcing his impatience at the wait for his feeding.
The cats wound around her ankles, mewing for their share. Just a normal evening in the barn. A separate world of peace and dust motes. Would that all her life had the quiet comfort of a barn.
My first day of freedom
. Opal stretched her arms above her head and turned to look out the window. The sun had yet to come up over the buttes, but the world shimmered in that crystal moment, transparent, filled with birdsong. She slipped from the bed and knelt at the windowsill to peer through the window that could now be opened to the life outside after being sealed shut all winter. While each season had its own particular fragrance, Opal always said she loved the fresh, invigorating sip of spring the best. She caught a movement in the woods, and a doe with two spotted fawns stepped from the tree line into the clearing.
Ghost barked, and they disappeared as if they’d never been. Opal breathed in deeply again before rising to dress. Today she could go barefoot. It was time to toughen up her winter feet.
Rand was giving the day’s orders after breakfast when they heard a horse galloping toward the house.
Ghost flew off the front porch, barking her ‘‘it’s a stranger’’ announcement.
‘‘Stay here.’’ Rand’s order stopped Opal in midrise. ‘‘I’ll see who it is.’’
‘‘Mr. Harrison!’’
They heard the call before the horse stopped. ‘‘Mr. Harrison. Opal!’’
‘‘That’s Robert.’’ Opal was right behind Rand as they tore out the door.
‘‘What is it, son?’’
Robert, eyes running, gulped out, ‘‘It’s Atticus. Someone beat him so bad he might be dying.’’
‘‘Where? When?’’
‘‘We found him this morning. He crawled as close to home as he could. Mr. Rand, they beat him near to death.’’
‘‘Who?’’
‘‘Don’t know. He can’t talk, other than to say ‘Opal.’ Opal, you got to come. Atticus, he needs you.’’
Rand strode past Robert and headed toward the corral. ‘‘Go in and eat while we get the horses.’’
‘‘No, I ain’t hungry.’’
‘‘I’ll get my boots.’’ Opal ran down the hall. What a morning not to have put on her boots.
Oh, Atticus, hang on. We’re coming
.
Not Atticus. Why would anyone hurt Atticus?
‘‘Opal, stay with the rest of us.’’ Rand shouted to be heard over the pounding hooves.
Opal tightened her reins, bringing Bay back to a steady lope, the kind that a fit horse could keep at for miles. Bay pulled against the bit, always wanting to be the front-runner.
