‘‘You been workin’ her, what, a couple of weeks?’’ Beans asked.
‘‘About. Should have started earlier, but school takes up so much time.’’ Opal patted Firelight’s shoulder. ‘‘You still want to ride with us?’’
‘‘Nah, unless you want me to,’’ Chaps said.
‘‘You want me to open the gate?’’ Beans headed to do just that.
‘‘Thanks,’’ she called as she rode on through to work the horse in the open field.
As dusk blurred the land she rode her among the cows, cutting out first one, then another, all at a walk so as not to spook anyone. One long-horned mama shook her head at them, making sure she was between them and her calf. Others kept on grazing, ignoring both horse and rider. A couple of calves, tails in the air, raced ahead of them.
When Opal brought Firelight back to the corral, she stripped off the tack and let her loose in the corral again.
‘‘About time you hobble her to graze.’’ Rand now joined her at the wooden rails.
‘‘I suppose. I’ve had them on her.’’
‘‘You ready to start working that dark gelding?’’
‘‘I’d have more time if I didn’t have school.’’
‘‘Don’t even begin to think like that. Ruby would skin you alive, and me too.’’
‘‘I know.’’ She glanced at Rand, relaxed beside her. Should she say what she’d been thinking? Why not? ‘‘Don’t think I’ll go back in the fall.’’
‘‘To school?’’
‘‘Um-hmm.’’
‘‘Ruby will be right disappointed.’’
‘‘I know. But I’m going on fifteen now. What can Mr. Finch teach me about the stuff that’s really important?’’ She indicated the horse and ranch with a nod. ‘‘Besides, he doesn’t teach much of anything. I can read it out of a book myself.’’
‘‘You’re going to have to take that up with your sister.’’
‘‘Will you stand behind me?’’
‘‘I need to think on that.’’ The clang of the triangle echoed through the valley. ‘‘Supper’s ready.’’
And I should have been at the house to help. Good thing Little Squirrel
is such a good worker. Better not bring up school tonight. Best to wait until
after it’s out, anyway
.
Rand started walking to the house. ‘‘You coming?’’
‘‘Yep.’’ She pulled herself away from the fence and strolled beside him up to the wash bench along the west side of the house. Tucking her gloves in her belt, she washed her hands and dried them on the towel hanging from a nail driven into the log wall.
At the table Rand waited for everyone to settle down, including Per, who sat in a high chair with a wooden tray, tied in by the usual belly band, before he asked them to bow their heads for grace.
‘‘Heavenly Father, we thank you for the food you have given us, for our home and the work we all do. Thank you for sending us your Son to show us how to live. Bless the work of our hands and this food to our bodies. In Jesus’ precious name we pray.’’
Everyone joined in on the amen.
Linc had protested eating with them at first, saying he and Little Squirrel would be better off by themselves, but Rand had insisted. ‘‘No sense cooking two meals, and we have room here,’’ he’d said and repeated it until Linc finally gave in.
Opal still had a hard time understanding why there had been a problem. They worked here, they ate here. Everyone else did. One day after Ruby took her aside and explained how other people acted and felt, even in their own part of the world, Opal had gotten mad.
‘‘Just like with the ‘girls,’ right?’’
‘‘I’m afraid so.’’ Ruby’s apron had mounded over the soon-to-be-born Per at the time.
‘‘That stinks worse than polecat—a dead polecat.’’
‘‘I agree, but that’s the way the world is. The way some people are.’’ Ruby flinched.
‘‘Baby’s kicking again?’’ Opal stared at the mound, always fascinated by the thought of a real live baby living and growing inside her sister. ‘‘There, I saw it.’’ Delight had made her giggle.
‘‘That must hurt.’’
‘‘A bit.’’
‘‘Just like that cow Rand and I watched earlier.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’
‘‘Well, you know what I mean.’’
Opal was pulled from her thoughts as everyone at the table laughed heartily at a story Linc was telling.
They all feel like family—
including Linc and Little Squirrel
. She was quite certain life didn’t get any better than this.
Later, after the hands had left for the bunkhouse and the dishes were finished, Ruby took out her letter from Mrs. Brandon and read it to Rand and Opal.
Opal propped her chin in her cupped hands with her elbows on the table. ‘‘Sure would be fun to see them again. You think maybe they’d come out here this summer? They’ve talked about it before.’’
‘‘I think I read that they were inviting you to come back there and visit.’’
‘‘And not be here for summer?’’ Opal’s heart picked up speed like it might jump out of her chest. ‘‘I’d miss branding and haying. And who would finish training Firelight and the gelding?’’
‘‘I thought you wanted to see your friends again.’’
‘‘But not there—here. They can afford to come here.We could go camping and fishing and swim in the river. Oh, so many things we could show them and do. Wouldn’t that be the most fun?’’ She leaped from her seat and spun around the room. ‘‘Guess I better write them a letter and get it mailed.’’
‘‘But, Opal . . .’’ Ruby shook her head when Opal turned to look at her. ‘‘You go write your letter. You haven’t written them one for a long time.’’
When she described the afternoon’s visit that night to Rand, Ruby got the laugh she’d been expecting.
‘‘Typical easterner. They think you steer a horse rather than neck-rein. Arms straight out?’’
Ruby snickered into his shoulder. ‘‘And he says Opal spends her time daydreaming instead of listening to his lectures.’’
‘‘I assume he is a droner?’’
‘‘I suspect so. But I agreed I would speak with her. She has to be respectful.’’
‘‘That is easier to be with some than others.’’
Ruby sighed and laid her arm across his chest. ‘‘It would help if you did not encourage her in her wild ways.’’
Rand stroked her hair with one hand. ‘‘Ruby, she’s not like other girls. She wants to be outside. She loves this ranch as much as I do. She loves all the chores and has the skills to do them. I know that concerns you, but would you have her free and happy outside or miserable indoors?’’
‘‘Can’t she do both? Medora surely seems to have the best of both worlds.’’
‘‘I heard on that last hunting trip, she outshot the men every time.’’
‘‘And yet, she needs to learn the importance of being the perfect lady in dress, speech, and manners. She has to learn all that too.’’
‘‘Opal can do that.’’
‘‘I’ve been thinking about the letter from Mrs. Brandon— inviting Opal to come for a visit this summer.’’
‘‘You would send her away from the ranch?’’ His hand left her hair.
‘‘No. She would have to want to go. Please help me encourage her?’’
‘‘But she’d miss roundup and fishing and swimming in the river.’’ He locked his arms behind his head. After a deep sigh he turned to look at her in the moonlight streaming through the window. ‘‘That drifter is back in town. There are snickers going round.’’
‘‘About Opal?’’
‘‘I’m afraid so. The conversation stopped when I walked into the room, but I heard enough as I approached.’’
Now it was Ruby’s turn to sigh. ‘‘What are we going to do?’’
‘‘When the man saw me, he disappeared out the back real quick.’’
‘‘Where were you?’’
‘‘Stopped by Williams’ to hear the local goings-on.’’
‘‘Gossip, you mean?’’
His chuckle echoed in his chest under her ear, a comforting sound.
‘‘You didn’t drink any of his rotgut, did you?’’
‘‘Ruby, do you think I’m stupid, or what?’’
‘‘No, not stupid, but how can you bear to go in that disgusting place?’’
When he didn’t answer, she sighed again. His breathing had changed. A gentle snore confirmed it. He’d fallen asleep just like that. Men!
What was she to do about Opal?
Sunday morning they woke to the patter of rain on the roof.
‘‘The garden will sure appreciate this.’’ Ruby settled Per into his high chair and gave him a spoon to bang. Making noise kept him content for a few minutes, then a rusk would help hold him until breakfast was ready.
Little Squirrel came through the back door, a narrow blanket over her head. ‘‘Creek up.’’
‘‘I’m not surprised. How about you do the sourdough for pancakes? Rand, would you bring in the haunch of venison so we can slice that?’’
‘‘You want the milk strained in here or the springhouse?’’ Opal paused in the door on her way out to milk Fawn.
‘‘We’ll use yesterday’s, so do it out there. Let’s take some in to Charlie and Daisy. Their cow hasn’t calved yet, has she?’’
‘‘Got plenty cream for butter.’’ Little Squirrel took the haunch from Rand and set it on the table. After giving the knife a couple of licks on the whetstone, she sliced off steaks for frying.
Opal whistled her way out to the barn, bucket swinging in one hand, her hat keeping the rain off her head and shoulders.
If we
didn’t have to go to church, I’d take Firelight for a long ride upriver and
give her a real workout
. Satisfying as the thought was, she played with it more while she brought the cow in and threw a scoop of grain in front of her once she stood in the wooden stanchion. Fawn’s calf bellered from the pen. He’d not appreciated being weaned from his mother and let them know about it.
Opal tipped her hat back on its string and, after positioning the three-legged stool and sitting on it, leaned her forehead into Fawn’s soft flank. The good smell of cow, barn, and hay, the ping of milk in the bucket, and a cat twining about her ankles were all parts of early morning on the ranch. She could hear the rooster crowing. The calf bellered again, and the ping changed to two-part harmony rising from the bucket along with the rich fragrance of warm milk. She squirted a shot at the cat, one of Cat’s many descendants, who caught it openmouthed with minimal splatters.
When she’d stripped the cow dry, she rose, hung the stool on a peg on the wall, and poured enough in the other bucket for the calf to drink, poured some in the dish, and set the bucket for the house on the feed-bin lid.
‘‘Now, take your time. I’m not going to take away the bucket.’’ No matter what she said, the calf guzzled the milk as if starving. ‘‘Just think, as soon as we get that fence up, you’ll be running in the pasture and grazing like the others.’’ His tail switched from side to side like a metronome.
‘‘Scat, cat! Get out of that bucket.’’ She shooed the cat away before it got a paw down in the froth. The sow they’d raised last year snorted from her pen in the corner. She’d be having babies soon too. That was one of the great things about spring. There were all kinds of babies running all over the ranch.
She gave the calf a last pat, picked up her other bucket, and headed for the house. She’d have to get a move on if they were going to make it to church on time.
The rain had stopped by the time everyone came to breakfast slicked up and ready to ride to Medora. Ruby insisted that Opal wear a proper skirt for church, so much to Opal’s dismay she had to ride into town in the wagon.
Opal waved to the Robertson girls as the wagons arrived at the school now turned church. With the ten families that regularly attended their church, the school building bulged at the seams. Since Mrs. de Mores had had the Catholic church built, some people attended there, especially when the Marquis and his family were in residence during the summer. Ruby kept a tight hold on Per’s shift as his legs pumped and arms flailed in eagerness to get down.
‘‘Better watch him. He’s going to fly.’’ Rand halted the team and wrapped the reins around the brake handle. Beans dismounted, tied his horse to the hitching rail, and removed the bridles from the team, tying them with a rope to their halters instead.
Opal scrambled over the wagon side and used the wheel spokes as a ladder. ‘‘Hi, Cimarron.’’
‘‘Hi, yourself.’’ Cimarron, one of the former doves, who was now happily married to Jed Black, waited for her husband to help her down from the wagon seat.
Being careful not to stare, Opal appraised the growing bulk of her friend. This would be Cimarron’s first.
Cimarron tucked her hand around her husband’s bent arm and gave him a look from under the broad brim of her hat that made Opal feel a catch in her throat. Would she ever feel that way? She knew she cared a lot for Atticus. Was there a difference between friendship kind of love and the kind she saw in Cimarron’s gaze? The smile Jed gave his wife and the way he covered her hand with his other one made Opal swallow before looking away to answer a call from Ada Mae.
‘‘Coming.’’ She needed to get inside to run through the song the choir—if six people could be called a choir—would be singing. Rand could be heard tuning up his guitar, the signal to get going.
Times like this, when they were about to sing, she always thought of Belle, their former pianist and director, the first one who’d coached her singing.
Where was Belle? Had something happened to her, or did she just not want to keep in touch with her old friends? Perhaps she had never really thought of any of them as her friends.
Daisy joined them after handing her little girl to Ruby, and Charlie laid his Bible on the wooden stand.
‘‘Someday we’re goin’ to have a man of God leading our services.’’ Rand looked up from plucking guitar strings. ‘‘You saying you aren’t a man of God?’’
‘‘I mean someone who’s got some training.’’ Charlie shook his head. ‘‘My ma must be dancin’ on the clouds watchin’ her hell-bent son lead a church service.’’
‘‘Now, dear,’’ Daisy chided.
Charlie flinched at the sound of his wife’s gentle voice. ‘‘Sorry, but that’s what she called me.’’
The choir took their places, ready to sing. ‘‘All right, on three.’’ Rand strummed three chords, and the music burst forth.
Opal let her voice soar on the high melody notes while the others sang harmony. Singing was almost as good as riding. Either way she could forget about things like the drifter and Atticus and a meanspirited schoolteacher.