Opal (35 page)

‘‘He’s been right too many times to not believe.’’

The triangle clanged, announcing supper.

‘‘Oh no. I haven’t milked yet.’’

‘‘Guess you’ll do that after we eat. You know how Ruby hates holding supper.’’

‘‘Ghost, go get Fawn,’’ Opal commanded.

The dog left their sides with a leap and tore across the pasture, circled Fawn, and then walked slightly behind her as she made her way to the gate.

‘‘Leastways I’ll have her in the barn.’’

With Linc, Joe, and Chaps helping out over at the Maltese Cross Ranch, the meal would have been pretty silent but for Per.

‘‘Son, you need to eat and not talk all the time.’’ Rand laid a hand on his child’s shoulder. ‘‘It would certainly help if I could understand you at least somewhat.’’

‘‘He’s like a clock. You wind him up, and he never quits until the spring is loose. Then he just stops. No medium ground for that one.’’

‘‘Ma, mo bed. Mo bed.’’ Per pointed to the bread platter.

‘‘What do you say?’’

‘‘Pease. Mo bed.’’

‘‘That’s pretty clear.’’

‘‘He was telling you earlier about Ghost and the snake she brought in.’’ Opal buttered a slice of bread for her little nephew.

‘‘How do you know that?’’

‘‘He said Ghost and snake and dog and bad, mixed in with all the other. You just have to listen real carefully.’’

‘‘It also helps to have known what went on this afternoon.’’ Ruby passed Rand the bowl of rabbit stew.

‘‘What snake?’’

‘‘A big bull snake Ghost caught. How she knows to stay away from rattlers is beyond me. She dragged it up on the back porch, so proud of herself she wriggled all over.’’

‘‘She’s brought gophers and rabbits before but not a snake.’’ Rand handed the bowl to Beans. ‘‘You ever saw such shenanigans before?’’

‘‘Nope. Maybe she thinks we ain’t got enough to eat.’’ Beans sopped up the stew gravy with his slice of bread.

‘‘Or she’s not got enough to do. I should have sent her with the men.’’

Opal finished her supper and looked toward Ruby. ‘‘May I be excused? I need to go milk.’’

‘‘Of course. Do you have studies to do tonight?’’

‘‘Some.’’

‘‘Pearl said she thinks your arrangement is working out well.’’

‘‘I’m keeping up.’’ Opal picked up her plate and utensils and set them in the steaming dishpan on the stove. ‘‘I’ll do these after I get back.’’

‘‘Little Squirrel will do them.’’

‘‘Thanks, Little Squirrel. I’ve got some geometry to do. I don’t know why I have to learn higher mathematics.’’ She put a sneer on the word higher. ‘‘I can do multiplying and division, even fractions. What’s wrong with all that?’’

‘‘Nothing. But higher math teaches you to reason and figure things out. It makes you smarter.’’

Opal shook her head, muttering as she went out the back door. ‘‘Waste of time. What horse cares about the hypotenuse or the radius or diameter? Neither do I.’’

Milking was always a calming occupation. The sweet smell of hay and grain, the song the milk made in the bucket, starting with a ping and ending in a purr. The cat winding about her ankle was waiting for her to pour some milk in the flat pan for the barn cats, all descendants of Cat, who must have been taken by a coyote or an owl, since she disappeared one night. A ranch needed a lot of cats. The mortality rate was pretty high.

Opal released the stanchion and let Fawn amble out the door, then gave in to the cats’ pleas and poured milk in the pan. ‘‘You won’t be getting this much longer. Fawn is cutting back on her milk.’’

The three cats lined up around the dish, hunkered down, tails wrapped around their bodies, pink tongues making short order of the meal.

‘‘There was a mouse in the oat bin. You better get on the ball and earn your keep.’’

They ignored her now that she’d fulfilled their demands.

Opal whistled a tune on her way to the springhouse, then realized it was one of the songs the girls used to sing. That made her wonder about Belle. She had taught Opal to sing and play the piano, to dance too, but Ruby hadn’t been too happy about that. At least not the way the girls danced.
I wonder if I wrote to Belle if
she’d get the letter. Or if she’d write back
. The thoughts entertained her while she poured the milk through the two layers of cloth to strain out any dirt or grass seeds that might have fallen into it. Though she had brushed off Fawn’s udder first, some chaff still made it into the bucket.

‘‘You sound happy.’’ Rand spoke from the rocker on the back porch, the evening dusk deepening the shadows so Opal hadn’t noticed him.

‘‘I guess I am.’’ She ambled over and took the other chair. ‘‘Is Ruby putting Per to bed?’’

‘‘Um-hmm. He about fell asleep in his supper, but he still didn’t want to go to bed.’’

‘‘He might miss out on something.’’

‘‘Mr. Chandler was asking after you today.’’

‘‘He was?’’

‘‘Said he misses those roping lessons.’’

‘‘How’s he doing?’’

‘‘Up and around. He’s still not ready to get on a horse, but he’s working on something out in the barn. The man’s real good with a saw and hammer.’’

‘‘Like Mr. Hegland?’’

‘‘Pretty much.’’

‘‘He’ll do all right on horseback, given more time. When’s roundup going to start?’’

‘‘In a couple of weeks. Think we’ll bring in another fifty head or so if we can find them this week.’’

‘‘I better get on the homework. I still don’t think I need higher math.’’ Opal left him chuckling on the porch and went to her room to retrieve her books. At least she didn’t have Mr. Finch staring down his nose at her if she asked a question. Why was it he liked to make her feel stupid? Thinking about what fun she’d have if he came out to help at the ranch carried her through lighting a lamp and setting her books on the kitchen table. Little Squirrel had already finished the dishes and set a pot of beans on to soak. Sourdough for pancakes in the morning was rising on the warming shelf, floating a yeasty fragrance through the room.

Opal sighed. Might as well get the hard part over first. Greek or Latin were as easy as loping across the prairies compared to this.

By the time she’d done and redone her ten problems, yawns were chasing each other out her mouth. She moved over to Ruby’s rocking chair and set her lamp on the whatnot table beside it. Studying the history of France had caught her attention far better when she started reading
A Tale of Two Cities
. Studying American history the year before had bored her to distraction. It was all dates, memorizing dates. However, the collection of letters written by some of the signers of the Declaration of Independence had made her keep reading.

‘‘Isn’t it about time you blew out the lamp?’’ Ruby stretched her hands over her head, then covered a yawn.

‘‘How come you’re up?’’

‘‘This baby hasn’t figured out the difference between night and day yet.’’ She patted the mound pushing out her nightdress.

‘‘Little Squirrel says you are having a girl baby.’’

‘‘She does, does she? Has she said what she thinks she is having?’’ ‘‘Didn’t ask. Did you know that human babies and calves take about the same time to grow big enough to be born?’’

‘‘And horses take another month. Rand informed me of that. I make enough trips to the outhouse now that I’m wearing a rut in the path.’’

‘‘Is that usual?’’

‘‘Yes. It was the same with Per.’’ Ruby made her way out the back door, carefully shutting it so the slam wouldn’t wake anyone.

Opal read to the end of her chapter and replaced the bit of paper she used as a bookmark. She slid her books into her saddlebags so she would be ready to go in the morning and hung them up out of Per’s reach. He loved taking anything out of anywhere, but he failed in the putting things back department.

The next morning after chores Opal finished her breakfast quickly and set her bowl and spoon in the dishpan on the stove. ‘‘I’m heading to Pearl’s now.’’ She turned to Ruby as she wiped her hands on the towel hanging on the hook for just that purpose.

‘‘Will you go by the store before you come home?’’ Ruby handed her a short list. ‘‘You should be able to fit these in your saddlebags or that tow sack there.’’

‘‘I guess. I’m stopping at the Robertsons’ too. I can’t let those young wranglers get too out of practice.’’

‘‘Tell Cora hello for me and that I’m thinking on the quilting bee Pearl suggested. We need to make that a regular meeting this winter. Sometimes I miss how easy we all had it at Dove House, the way we could sit and visit in the evenings on the back porch.’’

‘‘I never thought it was easy. We worked all the time.’’

‘‘Think of the taffy pulls and popcorn parties, the singing around the piano, taking turns reading. I was so proud of you, the way you taught the girls to read and write. Opal, dear, you are an excellent teacher. You know that?’’

‘‘I’d rather teach horses than people.’’ Opal slung her bags over her shoulder. She stooped down to give Per a hug, then tickled his tummy. ‘‘Don’t you go sticking out that lip. A bird will come and sit on it.’’

‘‘Bird. Opa, up.’’ He raised his arms, eyes pleading.

She hugged him quick and beat it out the door before he started to cry. Ignoring his tears, like Ruby said she should do, tore at her heart.

The morning passed like two blinks. Pearl even made geometry interesting.

‘‘Now, say you were going to build a barn. You need to know how many square feet you will need, how tall the walls, the pitch of the roof, the angles on the rafters, how to square all the corners.’’

Opal shook her head. ‘‘I never thought of that.’’

When her lessons were finished, she helped Pearl scrub the floors and bake cookies, wrote down her assignments, and then rode on into town.

Waiting for Mr. Adams to add up her purchases took even more time because he was busy with another customer. So by the time she left town, school had already let out and the pupils gone on home. A glance over at the river reminded her of Atticus. If only they could go fishing again. Some days it seemed like that had all happened in a different lifetime. Other times, especially at night, it came back in a rush.
Oh, Atticus, have you forgiven me? Do
you think of me and remember the good times?

The ride on south smelled like fall. Dry grass, dry earth, sunflowers, and blue asters. She puzzled on Atticus as her horse jogged up the hill. Would he ever write to her? Would he return?

Off to the west, the grand house the marquis built crowned the hill, the orchard and garden closer down to the river. Mrs. de Mores had already left with the children, since they would attend school in New York.

That thought brought on another. She could have been going to school in New York this year. She shuddered and inadvertently twitched the reins, causing her horse to pick up the pace. ‘‘Sorry.’’ She tightened the reins just a smidgen and settled back into a slow lope that ate up the miles. Some horses never got the hang of that easy gait, either pounding the rider to death on a hard jog or fighting the bit all the time to gallop. But riding Bay’s lope was as easy as sitting in Ruby’s rocking chair.

She eased back when they crested the hill that led down to the Robertson place. No one was working in the corral or out in the pasture. Two saddled horses stood at the corral gate dozing in the sun.

She rode up to the house and dismounted, flipping the reins over the hitching rail. ‘‘Anybody home?’’ She could hear a hammer pounding from the barn.

‘‘Opal, come on in,’’ Mrs. Robertson called. ‘‘I just poured the buttermilk, and the cookies are hot from the oven.’’

‘‘Smells good in here.’’

‘‘Emily, go on down to the barn and tell Mr. Chandler to join us.’’

‘‘I will.’’ Edith brushed past Opal in her rush to get out the door.

Opal stared after her.
And hello to you too
.

‘‘Don’t mind her. She thinks Mr. Chandler is her own—’’ ‘‘Ada Mae.’’

‘‘Well, she’s all goggle-eyed over him.’’ Ada Mae shook her head in total disgust.

‘‘Someday you’re going to do the same thing.’’ Mrs. Robertson pointed to a chair. ‘‘Sit there, Opal. My goodness, girl, but it seems ages since you’ve been here.’’

‘‘Where’s Joel?’’

‘‘Out changing his clothes. He’s been practicing like you said to. Every day.’’ Virginia passed the cookie plate. ‘‘Me and Ada Mae too.’’

‘‘Ada Mae and I.’’ Her mother made the correction without a glance.

‘‘Ah, Ma.’’

Opal rolled her lips together to keep from laughing. ‘‘Ruby corrected me all the time too.’’

Ada Mae leaned closer. ‘‘It don’t matter, I don’t think.’’

‘‘You don’t want to sound uneducated, do you?’’

Ada Mae shrugged and took a large bite of cookie.

‘‘The way you talk and your manners say a lot about the upbringing you’ve had. Your grandmother would choke if she heard you talking that way.’’

Ada Mae sighed again. ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

Opal heard Edith and Mr. Chandler talking before their steps echoed on the porch. At least Edith was talking.

‘‘Howdy, Miss Torvald.’’ Mr. Chandler removed his hat when he came in the door. ‘‘Good to see you.’’

‘‘You’re looking some better than the last time I saw you.’’

‘‘I imagine.’’

‘‘Ma’s finally allowed him up on the promise that if he gets dizzy he’ll take it easy again.’’ Emily reached for a cookie.

Opal caught a look sent by the eldest sister that would fry an egg.

He certainly is a fine-looking man. No wonder Edith is all goggle-eyed
. The thought caught her by surprise. What difference did it make how he looked? What counted was what kind of cowboy he’d make come fall roundup. She studied the man as he sat down. He seemed a bit stiff yet, and he held his head as if he didn’t want it moving too much. He turned and caught her gaze, a slow smile warming his face. ‘‘I thought perhaps we could do some calf roping or something. I could use some more practice.’’

Opal swallowed and took another bite of her cookie. One sip of buttermilk wasn’t enough to loosen up her throat, so she took another, this time choking on the cookie crumbs.

‘‘You all right?’’ Emily thumped her on the back.

‘‘I will be. Let’s get out there before I have to head on home.’’ She coughed again and patted her chest. ‘‘Just swallowed wrong.’’