‘‘Buttermilk too strong for you?’’
Opal glanced up at the sting in Edith’s voice. Now, what brought that on?
‘‘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.
Getting her legs into pants still damp took a grunt or two, but before she stood to button them, she shoved her feet into her boots. At least it had quit raining.
‘‘Breakfast is about ready,’’ Mr. Chandler announced.
‘‘Come and get it before we throw it in the fire,’’ Beans added.
‘‘He wouldn’t.’’ Ada Mae sat up, forgetting to duck. ‘‘Ouch.’’
‘‘You got to remember that when you sleep under a wagon.’’
Joel rolled his quilt, then folded the canvas and rolled it around the quilt and stuffed it in the wagon along with the others. He clapped his hat on his head. ‘‘Were those wolves howling last night?’’
‘‘Sure were. They do a mighty pretty song.’’ Beans handed him a plate of mush with sausage and sprinkled brown sugar on top.
‘‘You want one biscuit or two?’’
‘‘Two.’’
Firelight flickered, thanks to the wood that had been kept dry under the wagon. Opal took her plate and sat on one of the logs close to the fire. How could she be so hungry so soon? Her whole body felt as if it had been a very short night. The eastern sky had lightened by the time everyone had caught their horse for the day and mounted up. Rand gave the instructions, and they headed out. Opal looked up. A dark V of honking geese was winging south, another reminder that winter lurked over the next hill.
By the time they’d driven the herd, doubled in size since morning, to the ford, deepening dusk hovered over the land, lightened by what light remained reflecting off the water.
‘‘It looks higher than when we came over. You want to wait until morning?’’ Beans looked from the river to Rand.
‘‘No. We can do it.’’ Rand checked the river again. ‘‘They’ve been through a lot worse than this.’’
Opal stared across the river. A lamp set a window to glowing. Now she knew what a comfort that sight could be. Almost as if to say, ‘‘Welcome. You are almost home.’’
‘‘Beans, you lead them out. Chaps, you take the upriver side. Joe, downriver. Let’s do this nice and slow so we have no problems.’’ Beans nudged his mount over the lip of the butte and down the well-used trail, a couple of the older cows following him as if they did this every day. The herd flowed after them, bawling, the calves floundering after their mothers. Joe and Chaps eased down the sides to keep the stock headed straight for the river, not allowing any to panic and run up and down the riverbank.
Rand left the young wranglers to keep order while he returned to the rear to give Jacob his orders. Joel and Virginia brought up the rear with the band of horses, many of which had stopped to graze what little grass they could find.
Opal sneezed at the dust raised by hooves cutting through the damp top layer. The rain had run off the soil more than soaking in, as they so desperately needed.
If only they could see better. Bawling cows, splashing calves frantic to find their mothers. The men’s voices floated back, encouraging the stock and one another.
With the stock over the edge, Opal headed on down to be ahead of the wagon. Bay sat back on her haunches when she started to slide, so Opal kept a tight rein to help her horse keep her feet. Joel caught up with her at the bottom.
‘‘They all across?’’
‘‘I think so. They’ve quieted down.’’
The river rushed by, as if in a hurry to get rid of the extra water and return to its summer somnolence.
‘‘Opal!’’
She looked up the butte at Rand’s call. ‘‘What do you need?’’
‘‘Help with the wagon. Come on back.’’
‘‘Sure.’’ She shrugged at Joel and nudged Bay back up the angled incline.
‘‘Put a noose over that pole and keep it taut going down. We’ll be the brakes to keep the wagon from running over the team.’’