Opal (45 page)
‘‘Let us pray. Father God, creator of all things, especially of the love between a man and a woman, thank you for this union, for this couple here. We plead for your hand to intervene and bring healing to Little Squirrel. Bring comfort and peace; let her swallow the broth and keep it down so she can grow strong again and care for her husband and the child she carries. We thank you in advance. Give these two long years together and the joy of living as your children. Amen.’’
‘‘Amen.’’ The others echoed his words.
‘‘I take care of my wife. Ya’ll get on back to the house.’’ He clasped Jacob’s hand. ‘‘Thank you for comin’. That were a right nice ceremony.’’
‘‘I’ll fill out a paper to say this is real and legal. I’ll bring it by some other day.’’
‘‘Dat be good.’’
‘‘You have enough food in case the weather shifts?’’
‘‘We do. I laid some by, just in case.’’
‘‘Keep spooning her the broth, whether she likes it or not.’’
Opal pushed her arms into her coat sleeves. ‘‘I’ll make more with the goose carcasses.’’
‘‘You’re a good man, Linc. We’ll keep praying for Little Squirrel.’’ Rand shook Linc’s hand.
‘‘Thank you. God bless.’’
When they arrived back at the house, stamping the snow off boots and legs, Beans shut the door behind them. ‘‘Things all right out there?’’
‘‘Yes. Well, they are married. Now I hope she makes it through.’’ Rand shucked off his gloves and coat.
‘‘She’s tougher’n she looks.’’
‘‘You seen her since yesterday?’’
Beans nodded. ‘‘Stopped by this mornin’. Made sure they had enough wood and food.’’
Rand clapped his foreman and former cook on the shoulder. ‘‘You’re a good man, Beans. Remind me to give you a bonus.’’
Beans snorted. ‘‘Ain’t likely. I peeled the potatoes. The rolls is ready to go in the oven when those geese get some more done. Opal, you did a fine bit of work here this mornin’.’’
‘‘Thanks. Think I’ll go check on Ruby.’’
‘‘She and the little’uns are sleepin’ real peaceful-like.’’
‘‘Thanks, Beans. When she wakes up, we can have Christmas dinner.’’
Her smile caught Jacob right in the heart.
‘‘I better be getting on home. All right if I borrow a horse?’’ Jacob looked to Rand.
‘‘I’ll go saddle one up.’’ Beans reached for his jacket.
‘‘I can do it. You stay here. Just tell me which one.’’
‘‘You’re welcome to stay, but I know you want to spend Christmas with your boy. It’ll be a good surprise for him.’’ Rand shrugged into his coat. ‘‘Come on with me.’’
‘‘Merry Christmas, Mr. Chandler.’’ Opal held the door open for them.
‘‘A blessed Christmas to you too.’’ Jacob followed Rand out the door, wishing he could stay yet grateful he could see Joel today after all.
‘‘Why, Mr. Chandler, what a wonderful surprise.’’ Cora Robertson met him at the door.
‘‘They needed me over at the Harrisons’, so I came back early. I need to go out and get some things from the soddy and put the horse away.’’
‘‘We were just sitting down to dinner. We’ll wait.’’
‘‘Pa, you came back.’’ Joel peered out the door at him. His smile was all the Christmas present Jacob needed.
‘‘I’ll be back up as soon as I can.’’ Jacob touched the brim of his hat, his gaze meeting Mrs. Robertson’s. Her nod let him know she understood. He turned back to the horse, knowing his cheeks ached from smiling already.
He called me Pa
.
‘‘Oh, Mr. Chandler, there is a letter here for you.’’ Mrs. Robertson handed it out to him before closing the door.
‘‘Thank you.’’ Jacob glanced at the return address. Mr. Dum-farthing.
Ah, good news? I hope so
. He put the horse away, slogged to the soddy, and started a fire in the stove so the room would be warm later. While waiting for the wood to catch, he stood by the window to read his letter. The spidery writing told him the old man had written this himself. He had to be better, then.
Dear Reverend Chandler,
You cannot begin to imagine my delight at hearing from you. While many lamented your perfidy in leaving so abruptly, I knew there had to be something terrible that happened to drive you away. I thank you for entrusting your story to me. You can be assured that it will go no further.
Someone told me that forgiveness is an attribute of our God that never changes, as is mercy, and that our heavenly Father wishes we would be as merciful to each other and ourselves as He is. Today I extend that mercy to you in the hope that you will do so for yourself. We all do things in our lives that we are ashamed of, and often others suffer because of our actions. As I read the Word of God, I understand the consequences of sin far better than I ever did, but I also believe in His bounteous grace and forgiveness. I have you, my friend, to thank for that. Without your persistence, I might have died a mean and bitter old man before my time, for bitterness was eating away at my heart and soul.
While I am not robust, I am able to attend church when the weather is good—the cold air is just too hard on my chest. The new pastor is an older man, and we are grateful for him. He has not the
joie de vivre
of our young Pastor Chandler, but his sermons are sound, and he calls on me every week, since I requested that. We both enjoy a game of chess and discussing the political situation.
I have news for you also. I wish it were better. Two days after you left, they found the body of the young woman far downriver. They laid her to rest here in our cemetery. I wish there were a different, more pleasing end to that story here, but tell your boy to look no more. His mother is enjoying her new life in the heavenly kingdom, where she is now able to breathe without coughing.
I would be honored if you would continue in a correspondence with me, and if you like, I will extend your greeting to others who have asked after you. May our Lord richly bless you as you bless others in your new homeland. I have included a bank draft that could be used for the benefit of your new congregation when you decide to pick up the mantle again. I know God will be hounding you if you don’t.
Yours with joy in the service of our King,
Evan Dumfarthing
Jacob set the damper so the wood would burn longer and retrieved a tow sack of presents.
He wrote to me. Father God, what a
wonderful gift. And look where he is
. This promised to be both a joyful and a sad afternoon.
Perhaps I should wait to tell Joel until later
tonight
. He shut the door tightly behind him.
Oh, I forgot to tell them
about the new baby. What a day for news. Good news
.
That night, after an afternoon of feasting, exchanging presents, games, and laughter, followed by chores and more good food, Jacob and Joel returned to the soddy, both of them wearing the broad-brimmed western hats the Robertsons had purchased for them.
Joel fingered the brim, as he’d been doing since he first put it on, then hung it on a peg on the wall.
‘‘Pretty fine, aren’t they?’’ Jacob said, doing the same.
‘‘Thank you for the chaps.’’
‘‘You are most welcome.’’ Jacob had used his time in the line cabin to turn a tanned steer hide into chaps for his son. ‘‘Guess I better learn how to tan hides too. And make boots. You’re growing faster than a . . .’’ He started to say
weed
but changed it to
corn
.
‘‘Ada Mae gave me her boots. She outgrew them, but I got paper stuffed in the toes.’’ He sat down on his bunk and held out his boot, pushing his finger in at the end of his big toe.
‘‘Pretty big, all right.’’ Jacob put more wood in the fire. ‘‘Joel, I got some news in that letter today.’’ He sat down by his son, who froze in place like a rabbit hiding in the brush.
‘‘So?’’
‘‘Mr. Dumfarthing, a man from my Pennsylvania church, wrote and said that they found . . .’’ Jacob paused and sighed out his sorrow. ‘‘They found your mother’s body somewhere down-river. They buried her there by the church.’’
Joel nodded. ‘‘I figured she was dead, or she woulda sent me a letter.’’ He let out a long breath, and his shoulders rounded. He dashed his fists across his eyes and sniffed.
Jacob laid a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘‘I am so sorry to tell you that.’’
Joel leaned into his father’s hand, and Jacob gathered him close. ‘‘You and I, we’re a family now.’’
Joel sniffed again. ‘‘The girls don’t got a pa, and I don’t got a ma.’’ He didn’t say any more, though Jacob waited. After the boy snuggled down under the covers, Jacob patted his shoulder.
‘‘Good night, son.’’
‘‘ ’Night, Pa.’’ Joel cleared his throat. ‘‘Ah, my name is Joel Chandler now for real, isn’t it? I mean, not O’Shaunasy anymore?’’ ‘‘If you like, son.’’
‘‘I do.’’
Jacob thought of writing a letter back to Mr. Dumfarthing, but instead he banked the fire and blew out the lamp. So many changes in a year, in less than a year. He had so much to be thankful for. What would the new year bring? 1887. What joy it would be to tell the congregation they had a gift of five hundred dollars for the new church. And his son had called him Pa.
‘‘Company’s coming.’’
At Rand’s announcement Opal flew to the front door. That was one of the things she liked most about Christmas, friends coming by in sleighs with harness bells jingling. This year their family would stay home because of the baby, but others would come to the Harrison ranch. As long as the weather held.
‘‘Hey, Charlie!’’ She waved from the porch, recognizing his team before she could see his face. Who was that on the seat beside him? A man, not Daisy. That was for certain.
As the sleigh drew closer, her heart picked up the beat. Could it be? ‘‘Atticus! Rand, it’s Atticus!’’ She leaped from the porch as the horses trotted up to the hitching post. ‘‘Atticus. God does answer prayer.’’
He stepped from the sleigh and caught her as she threw herself in his arms.
‘‘Atticus. Welcome home, boy.’’ Rand waited on the porch, his silvered breath dancing on the frigid air. ‘‘Get back in here, girl, before you freeze to death.’’
‘‘Look what I found along the road, just passing our house.’’ Charlie stepped from the sleigh. ‘‘Merry Christmas, everyone.’’
Opal sniffed and stepped back to look up into Atticus’s eyes. ‘‘You’re all right now?’’
‘‘Pretty much.’’
‘‘Good.’’ She thumped him a good one on the chest.
‘‘What’s that for?’’ His jaw dropped.
‘‘For not writing, that’s what. We never knew if you lived or died or were crippled or what. What kind of friend are you?’’
‘‘A cold one if you all don’t get on in here.’’ Rand glanced back at the door where Opal could hear small fists banging.
‘‘Pa! Opa! Out!’’
Opal locked her arm through Atticus’s. ‘‘Come on in. Hurry, Charlie, we have news!’’ She matched her steps to Atticus’s, as he slightly favored one leg on the steps.
He’s here! He’s actually here.
Thank you, God. This is the best Christmas present ever. You brought him
home. Thank you, thank you
.
‘‘I just hope the coffee is hot.’’ Charlie threw a heavy blanket across each horse. ‘‘Can’t stay long, but what is the news?’’ He clapped his hands together to warm them and came through the door, stamping his feet.
‘‘We have a baby.’’
‘‘A baby? Ruby had her baby? Well, Merry Christmas.’’
‘‘Yes.’’ Opal looked into the eyes of the young man who, while so familiar, seemed a stranger. ‘‘Merry Christmas, Atticus.’’ She reached for his coat to hang it on the coat tree by the door.
‘‘Come over by the fire and get the chill out of your bones,’’ Rand invited. ‘‘Opal, you better move that coffeepot to the front.’’
‘‘Sure smells good in here.’’ Charlie sniffed the air like a hound dog. ‘‘Daisy will be tickled to hear the news. Mother and baby are. . . ?’’
‘‘Sound asleep, although I don’t know how, after all this ruckus.’’ Rand threw an arm around Atticus standing beside him, both with their backsides to the blaze in the fireplace.
Beans brought cups of coffee to the visitors. ‘‘You take cream or sugar?’’
Both men shook their heads and accepted the cups.
‘‘So, Atticus, what a surprise,’’ Opal said.
‘‘I thought to get here yesterday, but the train was held up east of Fargo by the snow.’’ He sipped from his cup. ‘‘I wanted to surprise you.’’
‘‘You did that all right.’’ Opal fought back all the questions she wanted to ask. Surely Atticus would tell his story. He never had liked her prompting him. He had a scar on his right temple, a limp. What else did he still carry from that terrible beating?
‘‘So where did your folks settle?’’ Rand took the initiative.
‘‘Back in Ohio where we were from. Pa’s workin’ for my uncle. He still has the wanderlust, but this out here took the starch right outta him.’’
‘‘How’s the rest of the family?’’
Atticus half shrugged. ‘‘The kids are in school. Ma . . . I think Ma is most grateful to be away from the . . . the mean . . .’’ He shrugged again and shook his head.
‘‘Cruel is the word, son. Your family was never treated decent here, and I’m sorry for that.’’
‘‘Not bad by any of you. There are good people here in Medora too.’’
‘‘So that means you are staying?’’ Opal picked up Per and held him on her lap.
‘‘Ah, no. I’m heading west.’’
Opal stared at him, shock dropping her jaw. ‘‘But . . . but why?’’
‘‘I’m scouting a new place for my family. Out in Oregon Territory, where land is good for homesteaders, for farmers, not just for ranchers.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
Charlie drained his cup and set it on the table. ‘‘Well, thanks for the coffee, but I better be gettin’ on home or Daisy will come after me. I promised her a sleigh ride before dark. She’ll want to make a beeline for here to see Ruby and the baby, but maybe we better wait until tomorrow.’’ He started for his coat. ‘‘Oh. I better know that baby’s name, or I’m in ice water up to my neck.’’
Rand chuckled. ‘‘Her name is Mary, since she was born on Christmas Day.’’ He turned to Atticus. ‘‘But you’ll stay for supper, right? And the night? That train west won’t be by until tomorrow. Unless you’ll stay a few more days.’’
‘‘Until tomorrow. And thank you for asking.’’
