Opal (46 page)

Rand walked Charlie to the door. Opal played with Per, all the while keeping an eye on Atticus. What was different about him? He still looked a mite peaked. As if he spent too much time inside. And yet there was an air about him.

‘‘One day isn’t much of a visit,’’ she said to him.

‘‘I almost didn’t get off the train.’’

‘‘Oh, Atticus, you wouldn’t. I mean, you couldn’t just pass us by.’’
I mean, pass me by. You’re still my best friend
. ‘‘I-I’ve missed you a lot, a whole lot. I didn’t know if you were dead or alive. I kept praying God would make you all right again.’’

‘‘He did.’’ Atticus sat down on the stool beside her chair. He poked at Per with one finger, making the little one giggle.

‘‘Mostly. Anything ever happen to those two?’’ He looked up from entertaining Per, his eyes dark with—with what?

‘‘One’s dead. The other is in jail in Dickinson. A bullet ricocheted and killed Mr. Robertson.’’

‘‘Oh no. Not Mr. Robertson too.’’ He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. ‘‘That poor family.’’

‘‘Atticus, I am so sorry. Will you forgive me?’’ Opal swallowed the tears that threatened to gush.

‘‘For what?’’ His eyes clear again, he stared at her.

‘‘For all that. Everyone else has been paying for my stupid mistake.’’ Surely there was a better word than
mistake
for all the tragedy that had happened.

‘‘Sure I forgive you, if that’s what you want. But, Opal, I don’t hold no grudge against you.’’

‘‘I thought when you never wrote . . .’’

‘‘You know I can’t write.’’ He studied his hands. ‘‘Well, not much anyway.’’

‘‘You could have asked Robert to write for you.’’

Atticus sighed. ‘‘Yeah, I coulda. But it was like I couldn’t think clear for so long, and when I could, I didn’t want to think on it anymore.’’

Nor on me either?
But she didn’t ask that.

‘‘I wanted to put it all as far from me as I could.’’

‘‘If we don’t eat pretty soon, everything’s gonna be burnt to a crisp,’’ Beans said after banging a couple of pans around.

Per slid to the floor and headed for the kitchen. Opal watched him go.

‘‘I should be in there helping.’’ She stared at her twining fingers. She’d never been this uncomfortable with him before.

He stood and pulled her to her feet. ‘‘We can talk more later.’’

Rand returned from checking on Ruby. ‘‘They’re back to sleep again. I’ll take her a plate later.’’

When they gathered around the table for a long overdue dinner, Rand bowed his head. ‘‘Lord, we have so much to be thankful for—new life, safety, a snug home around us, Atticus’s return, that you are making Little Squirrel better and protecting her baby, that Linc and she are married, that we have food to eat, and that we have a chance to rejoice in the time you sent your Son as a baby here to us. Today I appreciate in a new way what that meant. Thank you for this bounty we have and for keeping Ruby safe through the birthing.’’ His voice choked. ‘‘I cannot say thank you enough. In your Son’s precious name, amen.’’

Opal sniffed and joined Beans in bringing the long-delayed food to the table. Roast goose, stuffing, mashed potatoes, leather beans with bacon and onion, gravy, applesauce, pickles, rolls, butter. ‘‘Is that everything?’’

‘‘Where Ma?’’

‘‘Sleeping.’’ Opal gave him a roll to hold him until she could dish up his plate.

‘‘Sick?’’

‘‘No. Resting.’’ Rand tousled his son’s hair. ‘‘You eat now.’’

They finished dinner and the men headed outside to take care of the chores and get Atticus situated in the bunkhouse. Opal was washing dishes when Ruby wandered into the kitchen.

‘‘Merry Christmas. I never dreamed I’d sleep this long.’’

‘‘Merry Christmas. Are you supposed to be out of bed?’’

Per saw her and came running to throw his arms around her legs. ‘‘Ma!’’ He pointed at the tree and jabbered a bunch of his own words.

‘‘I’m feeling pretty good, actually.’’ Ruby leaned down and kissed the top of her son’s head.

‘‘Up.’’

‘‘I’m afraid not. Where’s Rand?’’

‘‘He’s out making sure there is bedding in the bunkhouse for Atticus.’’

‘‘Atticus is here?’’ Ruby gingerly sat down on a chair and stood up again with a groan. ‘‘Well, that part’s not working so well. When did he come?’’

‘‘Sometime between Mr. Chandler’s performing the wedding for Linc and Little Squirrel and our finally eating Christmas dinner.’’ She set the last plate in the rinse water. ‘‘Beans is out doing the chores.’’

‘‘I see, I guess.’’

‘‘Ma, up.’’ Per tugged at her robe.

Opal dried her hands and scooped him up. ‘‘Can I fix you something to eat?’’

‘‘Whatever is left over. I’m starved. How is Atticus?’’

‘‘Looks good. Wait until you see.’’ Opal sighed. ‘‘But—’’ She cut off what she was going to say when she heard boots clumping on the porch and men’s voices. ‘‘He’s not a boy any longer, that’s for sure. And he’s on his way west.’’

Ruby put her hands to her tousled hair. ‘‘I’m not presentable for company. Bring my plate back to me, will you, please?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Opal watched her sister leave the room, moving pretty swiftly for a brand-new mother.

‘‘Ma?’’ Per put his head on Opal’s shoulder and stuck his two fingers in his mouth. His tiny sniff told her he felt abandoned. ‘‘Sorry, little guy, but one of these days you’ll think your baby sister is pretty special.’’ Opal held him on her hip while she put slices of goose, a scoop of stuffing, potatoes, and gravy on a plate and slid it in the oven to warm.

‘‘You’re hungry already?’’ Rand teased as he and Atticus came in the doorway.

‘‘No. That’s for Ruby.’’ Opal set Per down and he aimed for his father’s legs, looking up at him and jabbering a whole string of sounds.

‘‘I know you have lots to say, but I sure don’t know a thing you said.’’ Rand picked up his son and headed for a chair by the fire. ‘‘Come sit down, Atticus. Looks to me like we have some presents to open pretty soon.’’

Opal took the warmed plate in to Ruby, who had crawled back in bed. ‘‘Can you sit up?’’

‘‘Sort of, if you will help prop the pillows behind me.’’

Opal did and, after settling her sister, stopped at the cradle at the bottom of the bed to watch the baby sleep. ‘‘How come animal babies are cuter than human babies?’’

‘‘Opal!’’ Ruby spoke around a mouthful of potatoes.

‘‘Well, calves and colts would be running around, chicks would be feeding themselves, and baby pigs would be lined up nursing. She’s just laying here, waiting to be cared for.’’

‘‘Lying.’’

‘‘What?’’ Opal stared at her sister, then chuckled. ‘‘Oh, all right. She’s lying here.’’

‘‘You go on out, and when she wakes up, I’ll bring her out to introduce her to her brother.’’

‘‘You sure?’’

‘‘If I need help, I’ll call.’’

Later that evening, after the gifts were opened and the pumpkin pie devoured, along with most of the leftovers, and after Opal put Per to bed, she checked on Ruby, who had never made it out to show off her beautiful baby.

‘‘How are they?’’ Rand asked when she returned.

‘‘Sleeping. All of them.’’ She looked over to see Atticus smiling at her. For the first time, he looked like he used to. Mostly.

She tried to remember. Had he ever sat in their house before? Other than for a meal? ‘‘Can I get anything for you gentlemen?’’

Rand yawned. ‘‘Not for me, thanks.’’

‘‘I’d best be finding my way out the bunkhouse.’’ Atticus stood and held out his hand. ‘‘Thank you, Mr. Harrison.’’

‘‘I think you can call me Rand by now.’’ Rand stood too. ‘‘Good night.’’ He wandered down the hall.

Atticus lifted his jacket off the hook. ‘‘Good night, Opal.’’ He touched a finger to her cheek and headed out the door.

‘‘Good night.’’
Is this all? He stops here on his way west and this is
it? I know it’s not proper to sit here and talk by ourselves, but . . .
She thought of yanking the door open and yelling at him to come back. She thought of donning her jacket and boots and tramping after him.

But those were the actions of the early summer Opal. She leaned her forehead against the door.
I know I’ve learned something
through all this, but right now . . .
Her sigh made her sniff again. She banked the fire and blew out the lamp. For a change she couldn’t hear the wind howling or whining at the edges of the windows. All was silent. She tiptoed down the hall and, after making sure Per was snugly tucked in, went on to her own room.

With her pillows banked behind her, she wrapped her arms around her knees so she could sit up and think. If she lay down, she’d most likely be asleep before taking three breaths. Atticus had come to visit. He seemed well and pretty much restored. ‘‘God, you did hear my prayers, and I thank you for that. I truly do. In fact, I can’t thank you enough. For that. But what about the rest of it? Two men died and two were wounded. There’s no way to fix that.’’ She rested her cheek on her quilt-covered knees. The beginnings of her coyote blanket covered the end of her bed. Four skins did not a full cover make, but Ruby had sewn them carefully together as a beginning. ‘‘Your Word says you turn things into good for those who love you. Do I not love you enough?’’

She stroked the fur, feeling the richness, the depth of the pelt. She thought about the verse again. Romans 8:28. ‘‘I know, it says that in everything you work for good. So are you still working? In all this, I mean.’’ She snuggled back down and pulled the coyote pelts up over her.

‘‘Are you changing me into something different, as Ruby and Rand did with these pelts?’’ She waited. No sound, no answer. But inside, she knew there was an answer, for God had already changed her.

The next day Opal rode with Atticus and Rand to the train station. Her heart felt heavy as she stood on the platform waiting to say good-bye. Would she ever see him again?

‘‘I’ll be back.’’ Atticus looked into her eyes so deeply it made her shiver.

Relief flooded her. She nodded. ‘‘I’ll be here.’’

‘‘All aboard!’’ The call stretched out like the steam pouring from behind the train wheels. ‘‘Come on, young fella, if you’re going west.’’

Atticus squeezed her hand and strode off to mount the train stairs. He waved one more time and disappeared into the car.

Opal sighed.

The engine chugged. The train wheels squealed. Atticus appeared at a window and waved.

Opal looked at Rand. ‘‘I offered to marry him.’’
If he’d stay
. She turned and waved at Atticus again.

‘‘And?’’

‘‘He said I was too young.’’

‘‘You are.’’

‘‘I know. But I think God has something more for me than being a good horse trainer.’’

‘‘Oh, I’m sure he does.’’

‘‘Let’s go home.’’ She waved at the train until it was so far down the track that only the smoke showed where it had been.

Funny, but this didn’t feel as much like an ending as a beginning.

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