‘‘Can I speak with you?’’ he’d asked.
‘‘Of course. How can I help you?’’ She drizzled dried beans from one flat box to another, letting the wind do its work blowing out the chaff.
‘‘It . . . it’s about Miss Edith, and um . . .’’ He sighed. ‘‘This is really difficult. Your daughter is a lovely young woman and will make some man a fine wife one day, but—’’
‘‘But not you.’’
‘‘Right. I mean, if I . . .’’
‘‘That’s quite all right, Mr. Chandler. I’ll have a talk with her.’’
‘‘I feel like a heel. Sometimes I wish I did care for her, but she seems just like one of my younger sisters.’’
‘‘Thank you for being honest with me. I know she thinks very highly of you and dreams young woman dreams. I would have been very pleased had you chosen her for your wife.’’
‘‘I’m sorry.’’
‘‘Me too.’’
And he still was. He was sorry for hurting her feelings. The house had not been the same since she went to her sister’s. Not that he’d wanted to change his mind, but everyone missed Edith.
His horse picked up the pace as they neared home.
And now the woman, or rather the girl, who had caught him so completely was off limits for a year and a half.
Lord, if this is all
part of your plan, I’m feeling a mite like that Jacob of long ago. At least
I only have to wait two years, not seven
.
In November winter arrived in a fluttery white dress, dancing on the breezes, hiding the browns and tans of fall, and capping roofs and fence posts in glittering blankets and tall hats.
While the men were out stringing ropes from house to outhouse, to springhouse, to smokehouse, and to the barn in preparation for probable blizzards, Opal got out the toboggan and took Per for a ride behind the horse. His shrieking glee made everyone laugh, and when Rand set him in front and slid down the hill, the child hooted even louder.
‘‘See, Ma.’’ He waved and tried to stand but for his father keeping a firm hand around his waist. ‘‘Opa!’’
Ruby stood on the porch, waving back and laughing too. ‘‘I want a ride,’’ she announced when Opal stopped by the porch.
‘‘Do you, I mean, should you. . . ?’’
‘‘No, I won’t, but I can want one, can’t I?’’
‘‘Whew.’’ Opal did a swipe of her brow. ‘‘I thought for a moment I was going to have to tie you to that post.’’
‘‘As if Rand would let me on that toboggan like this.’’ Ruby motioned to her rounding middle.
‘‘As if you could get on the toboggan like that.’’
‘‘I’ll have you know, young lady . . .’’ Ruby’s shaking her finger made Opal laugh again. ‘‘Someday you’ll be in this shape, and you won’t find it so funny.’’
‘‘If I have to give up horses and cattle to have children, I think I’d just as soon not. Besides—’’ she rested her crossed arms on the saddle horn and leaned forward, lowering her voice—‘‘what man will put up with his wife wearing britches?’’
‘‘A man who loves you enough to ignore them or . . .’’ She paused.
‘‘Or?’’
‘‘Or one you love enough to give them up.’’
Opal shook her head, eyes slitting just enough to make her point. ‘‘Never.’’ The picture of a certain man with wheat-colored hair and eyes like bits of Dakotah skies strode through her mind. Funny how he’d been acting like a friend but now managed to disappear whenever she came around. He’d begged off a day of roping too, saying he had too much to do right then. She, along with the Robertson girls and Joel, had had a merry time.
Over the next days, after the first snow melted, Opal surprised herself by discovering she actually missed all the kids she was used to seeing every day in school. Riding back and forth had always been fun, and there had been some pleasure in setting up Mr. Finch, like putting grasshoppers in his lunch box. When he’d opened the box, they jumped out and he jumped up, dumping his dinner on the floor and enduring the laughter of the children, several of whom also had grasshoppers in their dinner buckets and thought it a huge joke. Somehow Mr. Finch was not able to take a joke well.
Opal glanced up at the gray, low-slung sky. Looked like snow for sure, and Beans would be right again. The men needed to get back in off the range if it started coming down heavy.
She raised the collar on her sheepskin coat to keep the north wind from blowing down her neck. Maybe going riding wasn’t such a good idea after all.
But if she went back up to the house, she’d have to help with the sausage making. They’d ground up most of a deer and the remainder of the pork, and now Ruby and Little Squirrel were stuffing sausages to hang in the smokehouse along with the venison haunches. Pretty soon they’d let the fresh meat freeze instead of smoking or curing it all. Opal saddled Bay and rode back up to the house for the rifle. She’d seen two deer up the draw. Bringing in another one wouldn’t hurt.
Snowflakes were drifting down when she turned back for home, a four-point slung behind the saddle.
Perhaps she should take this deer over to the Robertsons’. Was Mr. Chandler a good enough shot to bring in game for the table? She knew that none of the girls had the stomach for it nor were they proficient enough with the gun. Given time and training, Ada Mae would be able to hunt. She’d dogged Opal’s every step and copied everything she did, even to the extent of wearing britches.
‘‘We can dress it tonight and take it over tomorrow.’’ The sound of her words made Bay’s ears twitch. She drew up to the springhouse to see Chaps unloading a deer too.
‘‘Hey, you. Two more hides for tanning, huh?’’ He hung his deer on the hook and turned to take hers.
‘‘If I’d known you got one, I could have stayed inside by the fire.’’
‘‘Sure, as if you ever wanted to stay in the house.’’ He untied one latigo holding the deer behind the saddle while she undid the other. ‘‘Where’d you get this one?’’
‘‘About a mile south, right along the game trail to the river. And you?’’
‘‘ ’Bout a mile north on the other side. Couple of them were still bedded down. Joe brought in grouse.’’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘‘We could be in for it.’’
While the first snow had been such a delight, it had all melted away, but now with December arriving, this could be the beginning of real winter.
‘‘I thought I’d take the deer I shot over to Robertsons’ in the morning on my way to Pearl’s,’’ Opal announced when she entered the house.
‘‘Sounds good. Give that gravy another stir, will you?’’ Ruby set Per in his high seat.
‘‘Where’s Rand?’’
‘‘He and Beans aren’t back yet.’’
‘‘But it’s almost dark.’’
‘‘Thank you, Opal. Surely I can tell dark from light too.’’
Opal blinked at the snap in Ruby’s tone.
What’s the matter with
you?
But she stirred the gravy without comment. ‘‘Where’s Little Squirrel?’’
‘‘I sent her off to rest. She’s just not doing well.’’
Opal waited a moment for more information to be forthcoming. When Ruby shut the oven door with more force than normal, she was sure something was wrong. But what?
‘‘Ma? Opa?’’ Per lifted his arms in supplication. He hated being tied in his chair almost as much as he hated waiting for anything. ‘‘Down.’’
Opal shook her head. ‘‘Sorry.’’
‘‘Down, pease?’’ He tugged at the towel tying him in.
‘‘Can he have the heel?’’ Opal asked.
‘‘Hmm? What? Oh yes.’’ Ruby stood still, listening. ‘‘That wind has picked up.’’
‘‘Is Ghost with them?’’
‘‘I guess. She’s not around here.’’
‘‘She’ll lead them home.’’ But Ruby’s worry was contagious, and fear for the missing men lurked in the corners and leaped aboard their shoulders when they passed by.
‘‘Is Linc with Little Squirrel?’’
Ruby nodded. ‘‘We better go ahead and eat while it’s hot. You go ring the triangle.’’
Wind-driven snow blasted her face when she stepped outside to clang the triangle. Ignoring the snow, she slammed the bar around the three sides, keeping it ringing as a beacon for those trying to find home.
‘‘Perhaps he stopped somewhere.’’ Opal hoped to sound casual and convincing. If the wind was driving this hard here in the valley, it would be really fierce up on the buttes. ‘‘Which side of the river are they on?’’
‘‘West.’’
No wonder Ruby was snappy. Fording the river in the dark and snow could be dangerous, especially if they missed the ford and slipped into a quicksand hole like Ada Mae had.
The four of them sat down at the table, bowing their heads for grace in the normal way, waiting for Rand to pronounce the blessing, only he was still out in the snow.
The silence stretched.
You can say grace, you know,
Opal’s inner voice chided.
She opened her eyes enough to see Ruby take in a deep breath, but before she could speak, Chaps cleared his throat and began.
‘‘Dear Lord, thou who hast control over the wind and the waves, please abate this storm long enough for Rand and Beans to get home. Give them a guiding star and safe passage across the river.’’
Opal swallowed tears and heard Ruby sniff.
‘‘We thank thee for this food prepared with hands of love and for this house that shelters us from the storms. Thank you for listening and hearing our prayers. Amen.’’
‘‘Men.’’ Per clapped once and grinned at those around the table.
‘‘Thank you.’’ Ruby picked up the platter of sliced venison haunch and passed it to Joe on her left. Rand’s chair at the other end of the table stood as a grim reminder of those missing.
Conversation consisted of ‘‘pass the butter,’’ ‘‘thank you,’’ and ‘‘please pass.’’ Ruby started to get up for the coffeepot, but Opal shook her head at her.
‘‘I’ll get it.’’ Watching Ruby push herself to her feet and waddle around the table was getting to be too much. Without Little Squirrel to help, Opal figured she should step into the gap.
‘‘Thank you.’’ Ruby held her refilled cup between both hands after adding cream and sugar, something she never did.
Opal fixed a plate of cookies and passed them around, giving Per the first one, which earned her a smile that made them all grin.
‘‘He’s some boy.’’ Chaps reached over and tickled the little guy’s tummy.
‘‘He sure is.’’ Opal picked up the slack when Ruby didn’t answer.
‘‘Don’t you worry none, Miss Ruby. They’ll make it home,’’ Joe assured her.
Ruby nodded, forcing a smile to answer.
‘‘I’ll go clang the triangle.’’ Chaps pushed back his chair. ‘‘I remember the time a clanging triangle brought me home. Leastways here, once in the valley, you know you’re goin’ wrong when you’re climbing a hill. Works kinda like a funnel, you know.’’
They all paused to listen when he opened the door. Had the wind died some?
The clanging triangle started up and continued on and on. Opal felt that her ears might keep on ringing. While the beat slowed, the metal rang on.
Opal started to clear the table, and Ruby rose to help her.
‘‘I’ll do it.’’
‘‘No, the busier my hands, the easier my mind.’’ Ruby took a cloth and wiped Per’s hands and face. She untied his belt and let him scramble down. Lifting him had become more difficult as her stomach protruded.
The silence before Chaps returned to the kitchen made them pause and then pick up conversation when he came back in, dusting snow from shirt and shoulders.
‘‘The wind dropped some. We’re not in a full blizzard.’’
‘‘That’s some comfort.’’
‘‘Ruby, why don’t you go sit in that chair and read to us?’’
Opal stuck more wood in the fire. ‘‘I’ll do the dishes. Oh, should we take food down to Linc and Little Squirrel?’’ ‘‘No, he took bread and meat.’’ Ruby took Per by the hand and led him to the rocking chair, where they settled into the circle of lamplight.
‘‘Where Pa?’’
‘‘Looking for cattle.’’
‘‘Dark.’’
‘‘Yes. He’ll be home soon.’’
Per snuggled against her side with his head on her shoulder.
‘‘Read, Ma.’’
Opal glanced over her shoulder. Funny how Per, who was always so busy, loved to be read to as much as any of them. She dipped another plate in the rinse water and set it in the wooden rack to drain.
Chaps opened the door, and the wind dusted snow inside, blowing a chill across the floor. The clanging started again. How could a triangle sound cheerful in the daylight and mournful in a snowstorm? Opal ignored the thought and paid attention to the story.
Mr. Chandler tells a really good story
. Ruby’s voice and even the three-tone clanging faded. Memories of waltzing with him, of his fighting with the lariat, of the terrible ride back to the Robertsons’ with him so wounded invaded her mind. He was a far better dancer than he was a rancher. That thought jerked her back to the room where the story fell from Ruby’s lips in a pleasing cadence.
Per lay against her shoulder, his long lashes brushing his rosy cheeks and his thumb and forefinger securely in his mouth.
Opal moved the coffeepot to the hotter part of the stove.
‘‘Surely they’ve bedded down somewhere by now.’’ Joe poured himself another cup of coffee, now blacker than a moonless night.
Chaps joined him. They turned back to listen to the reading, blowing on the surface before sipping from steaming cups.
Opal dumped the dishwater in the slop pail, wiped out the enameled pan, and hung it on a nail behind the stove. She laid the wrung-out cloth over it and moved the pan of rinse water to the top of the reservoir.
‘‘You want me to make cornmeal mush and set it for frying in the morning?’’
‘‘Yes, thank you.’’ Ruby stuck a piece of paper in place for a bookmark. She half covered her mouth to hide a yawn but gave up as it stretched her face.
‘‘Why don’t you go on to bed?’’
‘‘Because I’m waiting for Rand.’’
‘‘And will your worrying and waiting bring him home any sooner?’’
‘‘Now you sound like Bestemor.’’
‘‘No, I sound like Ruby, who needs her sleep.’’ Opal set a pot of water to boiling and brought the cornmeal out of the pantry, along with a pan of cracklings. ‘‘I’ll take Per.’’
‘‘Thank you, Opal. What would I do without you?’’
Opal took the sleeping child from Ruby’s arms and carried him down the hall to his room. She changed his diaper, pulled up clean soakers, and tucked him in bed. ‘‘ ’Night, little guy.’’ She kissed his cheek and headed back for the kitchen, stopping at Ruby’s room on the way. ‘‘He never even woke up.’’