Opal (32 page)

‘‘Thanks.’’

Joel loosened his loop and trotted out toward the horses, swinging the loop above his head, and when the horses broke into a trot, the loop floated out and settled over the head of the lead animal. ‘‘Horses are lots easier to rope than cattle with those long horns. They just shake their heads and get loose.’’ He planted his feet and leaned back against the rope to tighten it, and the horse stopped and turned to face him. ‘‘You need to throw a bit ahead of a moving target.’’

Jacob could hardly believe his son had so many words available.

Joel coiled his rope again as he approached the horse, patted his neck, and slipped the rope off his head. ‘‘You might find it easier to rope one of us first.’’

‘‘I see.’’
I’ll never get this. Why is it so difficult for me and easy for
you, a young boy?

‘‘I’ll run, then we’ll take turns.’’ His son took off running.

‘‘You have to figure a bit ahead of the animal’s head.’’ Ada Mae sounded just like Opal.

Jacob nodded again and shook out his rope. He made it on the third try. The grin from his son as he lifted the rope off over his head made every bit of effort worthwhile.

‘‘You did it.’’ Virginia clapped. ‘‘I’ll run next.’’ Virginia dodged through the gate rails and took off.

Edith made a one-woman cheering section as the others roped and ran and swapped places to run and rope again.

By the time the shadows lengthened toward evening chores time, Jacob had managed to rope a moving horse, the milk cow, the girls, and his dodging son. He laughed along with the others at the mistakes and the near successes, yelling ‘‘atta boy’’ or ‘‘atta girl,’’ as the case may be.

‘‘Sounded like you all had a right good time out in the pasture,’’ Mrs. Robertson said as she set the supper on the table.

‘‘Joel’s pa finally got it.’’ Ada Mae plunked into her chair.

‘‘Roping’s harder than anything else, I figure.’’

‘‘Harder than arithmetic?’’ Edith raised an eyebrow.

‘‘Don’t remind me. School starts on Monday.’’ They all groaned in unison.

‘‘And we have church this Sunday. Mrs. Hegland has invited us all to dinner at her house afterward.’’ Mrs. Robertson nodded toward Jacob. ‘‘I hope you’ll accompany us this Sunday, Mr. Chandler. That’s the best way for you to get to know your neighbors.’’

‘‘Thank you for the invitation, but—’’ He glanced at Joel to catch a look of hope and real interest instead of the shuttered blank look of the summer.

‘‘We’ll be glad to go along.’’ He nodded toward Joel. ‘‘Won’t we, son?’’
Now why did I say such a thing? I don’t want to go. How can
I not leave clues about my other life if I’m back in church?

‘‘Yes, sir.’’

Jacob fell asleep that night with real gratitude in his heart and on his lips.
I don’t know why you keep on caring for me, Lord, when I
ignore you like I have been. I know better. But thank you for your faithfulness
in spite of my actions. Although I don’t at all understand it
.

Saturday morning Opal arrived right after breakfast to work with her students.

‘‘May I be a part of your class?’’ Jacob joined them at the corral.

‘‘If you want. We’re going out to work the cattle—roping, cutting, and trailing. You sure you’re ready for that?’’

‘‘I have to learn sometime.’’

‘‘How’s your roping?’’

‘‘I roped a trotting horse yesterday.’’
And three running children.

‘‘And your riding?’’

‘‘I haven’t fallen off.’’

‘‘A cow pony?’’

‘‘One of the horses out in the pasture.’’

‘‘All right. But you haven’t been out with the cattle at all yet?’’

‘‘No.’’
I was too busy haying and fixing the corral
. He kept a pleasant look on his face in spite of the bite of her questions. After all, he wasn’t one of the children.

Once the horses were caught and saddled, Edith brought out the saddlebags filled with dinner and handed one pair to Jacob and one to Opal.

‘‘You all be careful now.’’ While her words were for everyone, her gaze never left Jacob.

‘‘You want to come along?’’ Opal asked.

‘‘No. Ma needs me and Emily in the house.’’ Edith glanced at Opal. ‘‘We can’t all be ranch hands.’’

‘‘As if you ever wanted to.’’ Virginia reined her horse around. ‘‘You can’t look pretty and work cattle.’’

‘‘That’s not . . .’’ But her words were swallowed up by creaking gear and pounding hooves.

Ada Mae and Joel followed Virginia up the lane toward the buttes and draws. Opal hung back, then caught up with Jacob, who was following the others.

I’m going to have to say something to Miss Edith,
Jacob thought as he settled into the jog of the other horses.
I don’t want to cause a
rift, that’s for sure. But it’s different when you live on the same place. Back
in Pennsylvania if I didn’t want to encourage someone, I could just not be
available. I didn’t eat at the same table every day
.

He glanced over at the young woman riding beside him. Now, why was it he found her far more interesting than Miss Robertson? He was even getting used to the idea of a young woman in britches. Work like this in a skirt would be even more dangerous than it already was.

When they reached the top of the rise, Opal shouted for the others to stop. After they gathered around her, she gave the orders. ‘‘Drive all the steers you find up on the butte. Let the cows and calves go. You can work in pairs. Virginia, you work with Mr. Chandler. One of you hold the herd, the other drive out the steers, then take turns. Joel, you and Ada Mae do the same. Any questions?’’

She turned to the man beside her. ‘‘I’ll show you what I mean.’’

Now, that’s a good thing. I don’t even know what to ask
. Jacob nodded.
I’d rather cut hay any day
.

‘‘Gather them over there by the spring.’’

Jacob looked to see where she pointed. He didn’t see any water. Where did she mean? Joel and Ada Mae took off up the trail.

‘‘Come on.’’ Opal headed off to a brush-and-tree-filled cut that led toward the buttes in a fairly steep grade. ‘‘Cattle like to lie in the shade after morning grazing and to hide there when they hear us coming. You have to look really hard for them, as they disappear in dappled shade. Fan out.’’

They drove their horses into brush that tore at their chaps. Jacob ducked under a tree branch, one hand clamped around the saddle horn. He leaned forward, hoping and praying his horse knew more about what to do than he did. When he found two cows or steers—how could he tell in all the brush?—lying down, they leaped to their feet and tried to run past him back toward the river. His horse spun to cut them off, and it was all he could do to stay on.

Virginia darted out of the brush and, using her coiled rope in one hand, harried one of the critters back the way they’d come. In spite of him, Jacob’s horse shouldered the other, and the two animals headed up the draw.

‘‘That’s the way.’’ Virginia grinned at him and pointed ahead. ‘‘You keep them on the right track, and I’ll find more.’’

By the time they’d reached the top of the draw and broke out onto the prairie, they had six head.

Opal joined them with two more. ‘‘Now we cut out the cows and let them go where they will but keep the steers moving northward.’’ She nudged her horse into the herd and eased a cow and half-grown calf out to the edge. ‘‘Okay, hold the others.’’

One of the steers broke for freedom, and Jacob’s horse drove after it, nearly jerking the man out of the saddle.

‘‘Just hang on,’’ Opal shouted loud enough to be heard above pounding hooves and bawling cattle.

Jacob did as she said, one hand, including the reins, clamped on the pommel, the other bonded to the saddle horn. Each time the steer shifted direction, the horse beat him to it and turned him back to the herd.

‘‘Keep them moving, but no hurry. We can let them graze along.’’

Jacob wanted nothing more than to get off and walk, but instead he ordered his fingers to let loose of the saddle horn and slumped in relief.

‘‘You did fine.’’

Sweeter words could not have been spoken.

‘‘I nearly fell off.’’ Admitting such a failure made his stomach clench.

‘‘But you didn’t, and that ornery steer is back where he belongs. You hold them now.’’

‘‘Right.’’

Before long his heart stopped trying to leap out of his chest through his throat and he could breathe normally again. The steers lowered their heads to graze, tails switching at the flies— not that the wispy stubs looked to be very effective.

Three steers bawled as they broke over the rise, Virginia and her swinging rope hot on their heels. The three newcomers barged into the middle of the grazing herd, sending them all scattering. Jacob’s horse took off like he’d been shot from a forty-pounder, and again he hung on for the ride. They settled down just in time for further additions by Opal.

‘‘Think you can cut out that cow?’’

Jacob stared over the moving backs and rattling horns.

Which one was the cow? They all looked the same to him.

‘‘The one with the broken horn.’’

‘‘I see.’’ He sucked in a breath and nudged his horse to a jog.

‘‘Take it easy. There’s no need to rush.’’

He nodded, concentrating on the right animal. He eased into the herd, came up beside the cow and slightly ahead, his horse already aware which animal he was to work. Within seconds the cow was out of the group, and when she whirled to get back into safety, his horse spun and headed her off. This time Jacob was ready and stayed right with his horse, balancing himself on the balls of his feet with only one hand on the saddle horn.

The cow gave up and, shaking her head, ambled back to the brush, her bellow echoing across the valley.

‘‘She’s calling her calf.’’

‘‘Or announcing we beat her half to death.’’

Opal chuckled. ‘‘You did much better that time.’’

‘‘I was ready for it.’’ He patted his horse’s shoulder. ‘‘Do these boys do this naturally, or is it all training?’’

‘‘Both, but some horses never get it. You might as well put those into harness, because the cows outsmart them all the time.’’

‘‘I never realized . . .’’

‘‘Most people don’t. Rand says that back east they keep the cattle in close pastures and feed them corn to fatten them. Ranging cattle is a far different proposition. You take the next draw.

Go on back down the one I just came up. During the real roundup, we’ll have Ghost along too.’’

‘‘Ghost?’’

‘‘Our cow dog. She chases those critters out of the brush, saves both us and the horses a heap of trouble.’’

Jacob reined his horse around and returned to the draw, letting his horse have his head on the way down. He leaned back against the cantle, his feet pushing the stirrups forward to the shoulders. Going up or down, neither was easy.

Once down to the fairly level trail—level as compared to the draws—he scouted for cattle in the brush pockets, pushing the two he’d found up into the next draw. He harried them along with his coiled lasso as the others did. But when two broke from under some trees, his horse saw them before he did and spun to stop their retreat. Jacob had no time to duck, and a branch caught him in the chest, sweeping him off the back of the horse. He hit the ground rear first, his head connecting with the dirt second.

The other two riders brought eight head to join the herd as they grazed along.

‘‘You’ve done well,’’ Opal called as the two groups merged and settled into grazing after a bit of horn rattling.

‘‘Where’s the others?’’ Joel studied the herd.

‘‘Your pa is behind us. Virginia’s ahead.’’ Opal checked the sun. ‘‘About time for dinner. We’ll eat after the others get here.’’

‘‘We found a bunch of cows and calves, not as many steers,’’ Ada Mae said, then rode off to the right of the spotted herd, hazing one wanderer back into the group before joining Opal and Joel.

‘‘They’re looking good. Some are about ready for market. Has your mother said anything about taking some in early?’’ Opal gazed out over the herd.

‘‘No, but I know we’re short on cash.’’ Virginia rode up beside her. ‘‘She wasn’t able to pay Mr. Chandler like she wanted to.’’

‘‘Let’s work these on back to your ranch then and see what she says.’’ Opal glanced over her shoulder at the sound of hooves behind them. ‘‘We’ve got trouble!’’ Opal shouted to the others when Jacob’s horse, empty stirrups clapping its sides, broke over the rise. ‘‘Ada Mae, you hold the herd. Joel, rope his horse. Virginia, let’s go find him.’’

They headed back the way the horse had come, dropping down over the lip of the butte and into the brush.

God, please don’t let him be hurt
. Visions of Atticus flashed through her mind. Was there another injury to be laid at her doorstep? After all, she’d given the orders.

CHAPTER THIRTY

‘‘Mr. Chandler!’’

Opal could hear Virginia calling when she paused herself.

They’d fanned out as they descended the cut, and with only about ten to fifteen feet between them, she expected to find him soon— hopefully walking up to greet them.

‘‘Please, God, don’t let him be hurt. Not another man hurt.’’ Opal muttered the phrases over with each step her horse took. ‘‘Mr. Chandler!’’

With all the noise of the horses, the brush scraping, and their calling, she might have missed him, but his hat snagged on a tree limb caught her attention.

‘‘Over here,’’ he called.

Her feet hit the ground before her horse stopped. At least he was not flat on the ground. Jacob was upright and leaning against the trunk of the tree, head in his hands, blinking against the light.

‘‘What happened?’’ She dropped to her knees beside him, her fingers gently probing the bleeding gash on the back of his head.

Her heart pounded so loud in her ears, she could barely hear his stumbling words.

‘‘T-tree caught me. I hit the ground.’’ He rubbed the back of his head and brought a bloody hand to spread in front of slightly glazed eyes. ‘‘Must have hit my head.’’ He spoke slowly, carefully, as if searching for words.

Not again. Not again!
The words screamed through her mind.