Opal (16 page)

Oblivious to the beauty around her, Opal could think only of Atticus. The only one she could think of who would want to hurt Atticus was the drifter. And that made the beating all her fault.

All because she’d gone swimming. Why did such a simple and innocent thing cause such troubles? That foul and rotten man.
Why didn’t I just shoot him. I know God says do not kill, but had I known
what could come of that, his death would have been a gift to mankind. It
wasn’t Atticus’s fault. Please, God above, Atticus was just trying to save
me. My fault. My fault
. The words kept an even beat with the thud of hooves along the road.

The drifter—she didn’t even know his name. Why did he come back?

To get even
. The words still didn’t make sense. She knew Rand had threatened him with his life if he came back.

And he was back. She’d seen him.

They slowed to a jog through town, giving the horses a bit of a breather, and picked up a lope once past the cattle corrals now empty until the steers fattened again from the winter losses.

When they reached the Gradys’ log cabin, Opal let Bay out and skidded to a stop right at the door.

Mrs. Grady threw the door open. ‘‘Right this way.’’

Opal blinked in the dim interior, then followed Mrs. Grady into the lean-to on the back. She fell to her knees beside the wooden bed. If she hadn’t known this was Atticus, she would not have recognized him. His head looked like a misshapen ball with eyes swollen closed, a slash across one cheek, and bruises already turning colors. His right arm was bound to a board and that across his chest. While the rest of his body lay hidden under a sheet, one foot was propped on a pillow.

‘‘Atticus?’’ She took his free hand in hers, fear at the heat of it making her stutter. ‘‘A-Atticus, can you hear me?’’

A slight pressure on her hand was her only answer.

‘‘Do you know who did this to you?’’

Another squeeze. His breath rattled in his chest.

Opal glanced up when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Rand stood right beside her.

‘‘He can’t talk none,’’ Mrs. Grady whispered, tying her apron in knots.

‘‘He can hear, though.’’ Opal held his hand against her cheek.

‘‘Oh, Atticus, we have to know who did this to you.’’

‘‘Don’t make no difference. We just got to get him healed. Been praying ever since we found him.’’ Mr. Grady spoke from the corner of the room.

Rand squeezed Opal’s shoulder, the spot feeling cold when he withdrew his hand. ‘‘Let’s go outside, Grady.’’ He led the father from the lean-to.

Opal knew Rand would try to get as much out of the man as he could. How much did his family know of that day at the river? How could she ask Atticus questions without making things worse?

Opal fought back the tears that welled at the sight of his mangled body. She leaned closer. ‘‘Give me one squeeze for yes, two for no.’’

One squeeze. She breathed a sigh of relief. They could communicate.

‘‘I’m goin’ to fix coffee. You need anything, you just holler.’’ Mrs. Grady patted her shoulder. ‘‘Robert, you see if you can do anything for Miss Torvald here.’’

Miss Torvald? When did she cease being Opal? It wasn’t like they were strangers.

‘‘Ah, Robert, could you bring a basin of cool water and a cloth? Let’s see if we can make Atticus more comfortable.’’

‘‘Sure can.’’

As the boy left, she leaned closer to Atticus’s head. ‘‘Now, I must know. Was it the drifter?’’

One squeeze. A wait then another.

‘‘Was he alone?’’

Two faint squeezes.

‘‘I saw him with another skunk who didn’t look any better than him.’’

One squeeze.

‘‘I’ll kill them.’’ Rage bit the words off, and she almost missed his two rapid squeezes.

‘‘What do you mean, no? They tried to kill you. An eye for an eye.’’

His face worked, and a faint moan came from his closed mouth. His hand fluttered in hers, then tightened.

‘‘Easy, easy. I’m right here.’’ She forced her hand to gentleness and turned to thank Robert when he set the basin down beside her.

‘‘We found him about a mile from home. No idea how far he had crawled.’’

‘‘Where had he been?’’

‘‘Went to town to help out at the Blacks. Pa was out plowing. June and I went fishing. All came home but Atticus. We figured he stayed over to work late or start work early in the morning.’’ He sniffed. ‘‘I shoulda gone lookin’ for him.’’

Opal dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out some, and laid it across the broad forehead that looked like it had been scraped across gravel.

She took his hand again and felt a gentle squeeze.

After a time she changed the cloth. Bit by bit she saw him relax and realized he was sleeping. ‘‘You rest, my friend. That’s what you need to do to get better.’’

She could hear the others in the kitchen, the low murmur of their conversation indecipherable.

June, her gaze stuck to the cup she carried so carefully in both hands, made her way in the dimness, the candle by the bed the only light but what seeped between the chinks in the logs.

‘‘Here. There’s sugar in it.’’ She handed Opal the cup.

‘‘Thank you.’’

Just as she took the cup, Atticus groaned, then jerked as if struck by lightning. His back arched, arms thrashed, knocking the cup out of her hands, catching her on the shoulder, and nearly throwing her off the chair.

‘‘Rand, someone, help!’’ Opal leaped to get out of the way as her friend bucked and heaved on the bed.

‘‘Oh, my God.’’ Mr. Grady reached for Atticus and then backed off. ‘‘If I hold him down, I might hurt him more.’’

Opal knelt at the bedside again, crooning the same gentle song she used on the horses, no specific words but calming. She didn’t know where the song came from, but she knew the name of Jesus was laced through it.

Atticus, breath heaving like he’d run a mile, lay flaccid, sweat running, blood seeping from the side of his swollen mouth.

‘‘H-has he done that before?’’ Opal could scarcely speak, tears leaking down her face.

‘‘No. No one in our family has fits.’’

‘‘Probably from the beating on his head. I’ve seen it happen before.’’ Rand dipped the cloth back in the pan and gently wiped Atticus’s face. ‘‘You poor man. God, please bring healing here. Restore Atticus to his former self. Bring him back strong and able to breathe freely. Give him rest and peace. Amen.’’

Opal repeated the amen, as did the others. She had kept her gaze on Atticus during the prayer, had watched color come back into his face, but now she turned to stare at Rand and felt her jaw dropping in awe. Never had she heard him pray with such authority, as though God were standing right on the other side of the bed and they were having a discussion.

Please, God, make all that happen. Please, let me find the sorry animals
who did this to him
. Her insides heated up, as if preparing for branding. Branding would be too good for those two.
God, why do
you let people act like that? You could stop them. I know you could, but
you didn’t. Why? Atticus is good, and he loves you. Seems to me that if
you love someone, you take care of them. You protect them
.

She took Atticus’s hand again, but this time there was no answering squeeze.

He was indeed asleep.

Rand placed his hand on Atticus’s forehead. ‘‘He will most likely sleep for some time. If he starts to run a fever again, lay wet sheets over him. A fever can sometimes cause attacks like he had, especially if there is a head injury.’’

‘‘Thank you, Mr. Harrison.’’ Mrs. Grady shook his hand. ‘‘I’ll stay right by him. Please God that our son will live.’’

Opal followed the men out of the room. If they were going after the drifters, she was the only one who would recognize them. No, Rand saw him before. She stopped but didn’t return to the lean-to.

‘‘I can send Linc and Little Squirrel over to help you,’’ Rand said.

‘‘Why, that would be most kind of you.’’ Mr. Grady pushed his hat back on his head. ‘‘Rand Harrison, you sure do live by the Good Book. Not like some we know. Don’t know why anyone would beat on my boy like that. He never hurts no one.’’

Rand nodded. ‘‘Some things just can’t be explained. Little Squirrel is real good with caring for someone wounded.’’ He gathered his reins and mounted his horse, indicating for Opal to do the same.

They waved and rode away from the house.

‘‘Now, don’t you go getting any wild ideas.’’

‘‘Shooting those varmints is not a wild idea. I asked Atticus, using hand squeezes for yes and no, and he said it was that drifter, and I saw the other man with him. I’ll bet we could find them over at Williams’ or Maunders’. They don’t take to those kind in Medora.’’
Why did they go after Atticus? They should be coming for me.
I’m the one so stupid as to go swimming. None of this would have happened
if I’d gone straight home like I’d told Mr. Finch
.

‘‘We should get ahold of the army,’’ Rand said.

‘‘Right, and they’ll take care of it like they did for those guys who attacked Cimarron. No one ever caught them. Besides, the army is too far away.’’ Opal felt like screaming. Here he was so calm and Atticus lay back there suffering. Why, those sidewinders could be watching them right now, ready to shoot them from behind a rock or up on a butte.

Bay jigged and tossed her head.

‘‘Sorry.’’ Opal loosened her hand on the reins.

‘‘We’re goin’ straight home. No stopping to look for them, do you understand?’’

‘‘I know. We got to get the rifles.’’

‘‘No, we will not get the rifles. A young woman does not go on a manhunt.’’

‘‘But, Rand, I’m a good shot, and I . . . I . . . it’s my fight.’’ She zinged him a look that should have singed his hat brim.

‘‘I won’t discuss this, Opal, and if you are wise, you won’t bring it up when we get home.’’

‘‘But, Rand, I—’’ ‘‘Sometimes you have to leave things to others.’’

As soon as they cleared Medora, Opal let Bay have her head and left Rand far behind. If only she could leave her rage to blow in the wind also.

Soon as I get home, I’ll get my gun and be out of there before you get
to the house. Just because I’m a girl, you think I should stay home and
let the men take care of things. Or wait for the marshal. Like he’d come
for a guy getting beat up. He doesn’t care
. Her thoughts slammed around her head like Bay’s hooves slammed against the ground.

When she finally let Bay slow down, she realized tears were flowing. And it wasn’t just the wind making her eyes water.
Ah,
Atticus, this is all my fault. If you die, it’s all because of me
. ‘‘God!’’ She screamed at the air. ‘‘What are you doing about all this?’’ She shook so hard, she could have fallen out of the saddle. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around Bay’s neck and sobbed into her mane.

By the time she reached home she had herself under control. Rand wasn’t far behind her, but she didn’t wait for him. Let him deal with this. She headed for the barn and stripped the saddle off her horse, turning her loose in the corral so she wouldn’t go drink while she was so hot.

Taking her rope off the pegs, she shook it out and headed for the pasture. She’d start with the gelding today, then the filly.

Thoughts of ways to get the drifters woke her during the night. Nothing seemed better than cougar bait. Only shooting was faster. Once her breathing calmed she could hear the low murmur of Rand and Ruby talking. She got up and padded to their room.

‘‘Is Per all right?’’

‘‘Yes. Why?’’ Ruby asked from the darkness.

‘‘I heard noise and thought maybe he was sick or something.’’

‘‘Thank you, dear one, but all is well. You go on back to bed.’’

‘‘All right.’’ Opal stopped, then turned the other way. ‘‘I’m going to get a drink.’’ Out in the kitchen, she filled the dipper and drank from the edge. The cool water dripped from her chin but calmed the raw feeling in her throat. Had she been crying? That’s the way her throat felt. She made her way back to bed and snuggled under the sheet and light blanket. Compared to the heavy quilts of winter, her bed felt free, not smashing.

The rooster crowing was the next thing she heard. No school.
Ah, freedom. But Atticus
. The thought made her leap from the bed. If she hurried with her chores, she could ride over there before she started work.

‘‘I’ll milk. You help Ruby.’’ Rand met her in the hall.

‘‘What’s wrong?’’

‘‘Just the morning sickness, and Little Squirrel isn’t here to help. I’ll send Beans up too.’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Opal tiptoed into the bedroom. ‘‘What do you want me to fix?’’ She whispered so as not to wake Per.

Ruby moved ever so slightly under the bedcovers. ‘‘Bacon and eggs, pancakes.’’

‘‘Can I bring you anything?’’

‘‘No. I’ll be better in a little bit.’’

‘‘Coffee?’’

‘‘Oh, no.’’

A groan sent Opal scurrying.
If that’s what happens, I sure don’t
ever want to have a baby. Ugh
. She headed to the springhouse to get the eggs, slab bacon, buttermilk, and milk.

She’d never been left alone to do this, not that Beans wouldn’t take over as soon as he got to the house.

They made it through breakfast without a hitch, Joe taking care of Per, who greeted them all with a happy crow.

When they finished, Opal dumped all the dishes in the dishpan and started to wash. Per banged his spoon on the table.

‘‘I’m coming.’’
How does Ruby keep up with all this? At least she has
Little Squirrel to help
.

‘‘You want me to stay and help?’’ Beans came in with an armful of split wood.

‘‘No, I’m better now.’’ Ruby entered the kitchen, looking pale but with a smile, tying her apron as she came. ‘‘Thank you all for the extra rest.’’

‘‘Are you sure you’re all right?’’

‘‘Yes, Opal dear. Think I’ll just have a slice of bread, then we can get busy.’’

‘‘Busy?’’

‘‘Rand and I made a decision last night.’’

Opal took a step back. ‘‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?’’