Opal (21 page)
She stood. ‘‘I’ll go get more.’’
‘‘No, please. I’ll get a drink from the pump later. Where should I dump this?’’
‘‘Down the privy.’’ She spun on her heel so fast her skirt swirled.
Jacob watched her go. How to embarrass a lovely young woman without even trying.
Jacob Chandler, this certainly is not one
of your better days
.
He watched as a stranger on horseback approached the house. He appeared to be no stranger to the family as he visited with Mrs. Robertson and rode out the way she pointed.
Jacob returned to his digging.
‘‘You need some help setting those posts?’’ Ada Mae, his fellow milker, appeared at his side.
‘‘I got one more to dig; then you can hold them straight while I fill in the holes.’’
‘‘You dug ’em plenty deep. This ground sets up like rock once we water ’em in and the dirt dries.’’
Jacob slammed the posthole digger down, spread the two long handles, and pulled out the dirt to stack off to the side. It was about time to sharpen the digging end, but he wanted to finish first. Good thing the ground was still some wet, or he’d not have gotten near as far.
Robertson had shown him where the gate was to be and said they’d do six rails. That would make it too tall for a horse or a cow to be tempted to jump over.
He caught the sound of galloping horses and turned to see what was happening. The stranger and Mr. Robertson galloped across the meadow and slowed down as they neared the buildings.
‘‘Uh-oh,’’ Ada Mae said, looking at the riders.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Pa don’t look too happy. Mr. Harrison neither.’’
While his curiosity itched, Jacob ignored it and walked over to the pile of posts. He grabbed one end of the peeled post, raised it, and plunked the other end down in the nearest hole. A resounding thud rewarded his efforts.
‘‘Hold on to this, and—’’ He turned around to see his helper dashing up to the house. ‘‘So much for that.’’ He dumped a shovelful of dirt in the hole and, using a heavy metal rod, tamped it in. He repeated dumping and tamping, working his way around the post, eyeballing it straight as he worked. When he got within six inches of the surface, he brought a bucket of water from the pump and filled the hole. After repeating his actions on the next post, he returned to the first, filled in the remaining dirt, and tamped it down. When he leaned against the post, it never moved.
Ada Mae skidded to a stop beside him. ‘‘Pa and Mr. Harrison are going looking for those drifters that beat up Atticus.’’
‘‘I see.’’
Actually, I don’t see, but no sense asking too many questions
.
She leaned a rifle down against the first upright post. ‘‘Pa said to keep an eye out for any strangers skulking around here.’’ She nodded toward the rifle. ‘‘Just in case.’’
Jacob tamped the last shovelful in hard. Perhaps it was indeed important that he could shoot straight.
‘‘He said to tell you the nails are in the barn for the rails. I know where.’’ She waited until the next post thudded into a hole, then wrapped an arm around it to keep it straight. ‘‘Atticus near to died.’’
‘‘Shouldn’t the law take care of something like that?’’
‘‘The law?’’
‘‘You know, the sheriff, deputy, police.’’
She looked at him like he’d mumbled something in Latin. ‘‘There’s no law but the good men out here. Unless you go clear to Bismarck. But there’s no time for that.’’
‘‘I see.’’ So the stories he’d heard of the Wild West might be true? A posse did ride out after the bad guys? Who was Atticus, and what all had gone on before he arrived? ‘‘When will they come back?’’
‘‘When they catch them or lose them.’’
‘‘I see. Lean that a bit to the right.’’ He might not be much good in a posse, but he could build a solid corral. And keep an eye out. The thought of someone with violent tendencies watching the place raised the hair on the back of his neck. And he’d brought his son out here?
‘‘Opal, are you all right?’’
Opal brought her mind back from dreams of the sun setting over Dakotah Territory, the shadows thrown in bizarre shapes, the river musing with the willows. ‘‘What?’’
Alicia sat down beside her friend. ‘‘I asked if you are all right.’’
Opal attempted a nonchalant shrug, but her lower lip trembled, much against her will. She shut off thoughts of home and turned to smile at Alicia.
‘‘You are looking lovely, as usual.’’
‘‘Opal.’’
‘‘You sound much like your mother.’’
‘‘We care about you. You know that.’’
‘‘I know. And you have all done so much for me, the lovely clothes, seeing the sights. Taking me to the theater, the museums, our stay at the shore. I’ll never forget our week there, but here we are in July.’’
‘‘And you’re homesick?’’
‘‘Yes.’’ Opal wrapped her arms around her raised knees, sharing the bench beneath the weeping willow.
‘‘Tell me more of your ranch in the badlands. It’s such a strange name for a place that you see as beautiful.’’ Alicia brushed a leaf from her skirt.
‘‘The rocks are worn by wind and water into strange shapes, some like round houses with a capped roof, some like fingers pointing to the heavens. There are fires burning along underground coal deposits, and the rocks turn red like bricks where they’ve been heated. There’s a prairie dog town, with acres of holes and burrows. One sits up as sentinel while the others find grasses and grains to eat. When he sees danger he whistles, and they all dive down in their holes. They’re like fat chipmunks with skinny little tails that point straight up when they run.’’
‘‘You love it there, don’t you?’’
‘‘It’s home. I never had a real home before, and there I do.
Linc, one of our ranch hands, has taught me to train the horses, and I’ve never loved anything so much as that. It’s like I can read their minds, and they can read mine. Horses are willing creatures, when you understand them, and loyal too. About as much as a dog.’’
‘‘You have a dog too?’’
‘‘Her name is Ghost. She’s a cow dog. Mostly she likes to watch out for Per. Ruby depends on Ghost to help keep Per out of trouble.’’ Opal tipped back her head and stared up at the sun outlining the slender leaves in gold. ‘‘It’s a harsh land, but when you look across the grass flowing before the breeze, you’re sure it’s a green ocean topped by a huge bowl of blue sky, a blue so bright you are sure there can be no other blue just like it. When a meadowlark trills, no song on earth could be more beautiful or more fitting.’’
‘‘Is it hard for you to be here?’’
Opal started to answer but caught herself, her eyes popping open. ‘‘Oh, no. I mean, how can I ever thank you for being so generous to me?’’
Alicia, her eyes as gentle as the hand she used to pat Opal’s, smiled. ‘‘We had hoped you would stay and go to school with us in the fall.’’
Opal dropped her gaze to her hands that had unconsciously clamped together. ‘‘I . . . I thank you for the invitation, but . . .’’ She swallowed hard, trying to get the words out.
I want to go home.
Oh, dear Lord, I want to go home
.
‘‘But you’d rather be home?’’
‘‘Please don’t think me ungrateful.’’
‘‘Opal?’’ The call came from the veranda at the back of the house.
‘‘Back here, Jason, under the willow.’’ Alicia leaned forward and gave Opal a hug. ‘‘Thank you.’’
‘‘For what?’’
‘‘For giving me a glimpse of the land you love.’’
‘‘Opal, you got a letter.’’ Jason ducked through the trailing branches that hid them from the outside world. ‘‘Mother thought you would want it right away.’’
Alicia stood. ‘‘Come, Jason, let’s let Opal read her letter in peace.’’
‘‘It’s from Ruby. I’ll read aloud if you like. You’ll learn more about my home that way.’’
Jason sank down on the leaf-and-twig-strewn ground, legs crossed, and Alicia resumed her place on the bench.
Opal slit the wax seal on the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. So many times she’d watched Ruby write letters while at Dove House. She’d even written some herself to the Brandons.
‘‘Dear Opal,
I never realized how much I would miss you. No matter how busy Per is, I seem to be waiting always for you to call me from the porch and come bursting through the door. I hope and pray you are having a wonderful time. I’m sure you will have all kinds of stories to tell when you return.’’
Opal looked up with a grin. ‘‘Shall I tell her about Mr. Fur-stenburg?’’
Alicia turned pink, and Jason trapped his chortles behind his spread hands. ‘‘His ears . . .’’ Jason rolled his eyes, then cupped his thumbs behind his own ears and spread his fingers.
‘‘Jason, you are being rude. He can’t help . . .’’ Alicia dissolved into giggles along with Opal. Charles Furstenburg had called on Alicia to ask her to walk with him in the park. He’d called only once.
When the three of them got over making sport of Mr. Furstenburg, Opal continued reading her letter.
‘‘Per has grown inches in the weeks since you left. He tries to run, but his belly gets going faster than his feet, and he sprawls, usually over Ghost. That poor dog is so patient. She never growls at him, even when he pulls himself up by her ears.’’
‘‘Ghost, what a funny name.’’ Jason propped his elbows on his knees.
‘‘She got that name because she is such a mottled gray and black and brown that she disappears into the long grass or into a shady place, and you won’t even see her until she moves again.’’
Opal sighed. ‘‘She’s better than two cowboys at working the cattle.’’ ‘‘You weren’t fooling when you described branding and roundup?’’ Jason dreamed of becoming a cowboy like his hero Teddy Roosevelt.
‘‘Not at all. You should have seen Joe hustle when that old mama cow came after him. He let her calf go and ran for the fence. Took him three tries to get a brand on that baby.’’ Opal chuckled at the memory.
‘‘You ever been chased by one?’’
‘‘No, they won’t let me work the ground, but I’d rather be on a horse any day.’’ Opal returned to her letter.
‘‘In answer to your question, Atticus is recovering very slowly. He still has fits at times and scares his family half out of their wits, but he doesn’t have them so often now. We pray for his full recovery.’’
Opal cleared her throat.
Oh, Atticus, you have to pay for my foolishness
. She started to read again, stopped, cleared her throat, and sniffed.
‘‘Roundup went really well. Rand is pleased at the calf crop—we lost so few to the winter. I am feeling much better. Thank you for your concern. Just part of life.’’
‘‘Was Ruby sick?’’ Jason leaned forward.
‘‘Ah, morning sickness. That’s all.’’ Opal stopped. That wasn’t something young boys needed to know anything about. Having babies was not discussed in polite company. She glanced at Alicia for support.
‘‘No, she’s fine, like she says.’’
Opal turned the page over.
‘‘The Robertsons have a new hand. A man from the East with a seven-year-old son. Virginia plans on writing to you. Her tales of teaching Mr. Chandler to ride and rope rival your own for humor. I must get back to work. I hear Per stirring from his afternoon nap. Haying will start in a week or so, and the Juneberries are now canned and made into jam. The peas are ready, and tonight we will have your favorite, creamed new potatoes and peas with ham. Greet the Brandons from me and tell them how much we would love to share our western world with them.
With all my love,
Your sister, Ruby.’’
Opal looked up from the letter. ‘‘She means it too. Maybe next summer you can come stay on the ranch, Jason, and become a real cowboy.’’
Jason propped his elbows on his knees. ‘‘Tell me more about the badlands. I read that there are rattlesnakes there.’’
Alicia shuddered. ‘‘Ugh, snakes.’’
Opal shared a smile with Jason. ‘‘True, we have rattlesnakes, but we also have bull snakes that eat a lot of gophers, and a funny one called a hognose snake. When you startle him, he rears up hissing and puffs out like an adder. I was scared near to death the first time I saw one.’’ Opal shook her head at the memory. ‘‘But if you don’t run away, this snake falls to the ground, belly up, mouth open, tongue hanging out, playing dead. You push on him, and he flops back again. I heard that someone tied one in a knot when it was playing possum and never even got bit.’’
‘‘You’re making that up.’’
‘‘Nope. Cross my heart.’’ She crossed and raised her hand. ‘‘You’d like the fawns, Alicia. They run on matchstick legs and leap so daintily.’’
Penelope’s piano practicing floated out an open window. Opal thought back to Dove House and the piano she’d been learning on. One day she’d love to learn more. So many things had been lost in the fire catastrophe.
True, the new gown and short jacket were nowhere near as comfortable as her divided skirt and deerskin jacket, but since first Opal had no proper clothing, and then they’d gone to the shore, this Sunday morning all the family readied for church. Opal took an extra moment in front of the mirror to smile at the image she saw. The two tones of blue in the gored but full skirt reminded her of the bluebells that nodded in an early summer breeze across the prairie. The fitted jacket with leg of mutton sleeves and twin points on the lower front edge, all in a deeper hue, gave her a hint of womanhood. Her eyes seemed to sparkle more, and wearing her hair caught up on the sides with the wavy mass streaming down her back set off a tiny hat with a bit of a feather.
Was this really her?
‘‘Must be.’’ At the sound of her own voice, she knew for sure.
How I wish Ruby could see me now. She’d be pleased as punch
.
‘‘Oh, Opal.’’ Alicia and Penelope stopped in the doorway, then laughed at each other for saying the words at the same time.
‘‘We need to be leaving to get to church on time,’’ Mrs. Brandon called from the bottom of the stairway.
‘‘Do you have a hanky in your bag?’’ Alicia asked.
‘‘Now you really sound like Mother.’’ Penelope swooped up the blue reticule that matched the jacket and slipped it over Opal’s hand so that the drawstrings hid under the hem point that extended to the back of her hand. ‘‘You look just perfect.’’