Amethyst (36 page)

“Can you stay for pie and coffee?” Ruby asked when they reached the front of the house.

“Thank you, but I better be on my way. Is Opal still up?”

“She’s out on the back porch.”

Jacob thought a second. “I’ll go say good night, and I’ll be here ready to cut as soon as the dew leaves.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Ruby kept her rocking chair in motion, the child at her shoulder soundly sleeping.

“Yes.” Jacob untied his horse and led him around the end of the house. If he hadn’t known she was there, he’d not have seen her. But something inside him knew even before his eyes.

“Opal—er, Miss Torvald.”

“Here.” He could hear a smile in her voice. “Miss Torvald? Hmm. That sounds so formal, Mr. Chandler. Or should I call you Reverend Chandler?”

Was that a mocking tone he heard now? It would be easier to tell if he could see her face. But all he could see was the white glow of her waist.

“My friends call me Jacob.”

The rocking chair squeaked a private song.

“Funny, my friends call me Opal.”

“Good night, Opal.” He swung aboard his horse and turned to leave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Jacob.”

The sound of his name from her lips lent wings to his heart as he let his horse slow-jog home. He knew the horse could see better than he could. There was that trust thing again. He thought about his sermon for Sunday. Perhaps trust was a good topic for all of them—to know that perfect love from the heavenly Father and to trust Him to live up to His promises. Did one ever learn those lessons perfectly? Cutting hay would give him plenty of time for thinking.

It was perfect haying weather. Jacob pushed the lever on the cycle mower to lower the cutting bar, hupped the team, and started out, the clacking cutting blades laying the thick grass back over the bar in a steady stream. The team plodded around the field, now rounding the corners as the cut swath broadened. Midmorning Ada Mae and Joel came running across the field to bring him a jug of water and two slices of bread with meat in between.

Jacob stopped the team, raised the sickle bar, and motioned for them to come around on the offside. “Thank you. I’m about as dry as thistledown.” Looping the reins over one of the handles, he stepped from the machine, stretching muscles already weary from staying in one position.

“Mrs. Harrison said you would be,” Ada Mae said, holding out the water jug.

Joel eyed the rows. “Real straight, huh, Pa?”

“I try to be. The grass is looking real good. So what have you been doing?” He took the jug from Ada Mae and drank, the cold water easing his throat.

Joel rolled his eyes. “Stacking wood. Everywhere I go, I stack wood.”

“You could be splitting wood by now.” Jacob took a longer glug of water, letting some dribble down his chin. While the sun felt good in the earlier morning, by now, as it climbed higher, he’d call it hot. As he’d said, it was perfect haying weather as long as the rain stayed away. They needed lots of dry weather to let it dry, rake and turn it, and then haul it to the barns and stacks. After this last winter he didn’t think one could ever put up too much. The sandwich disappeared in four bites.

“We’re going to pick strawberries after dinner, Pa. Opal knows where a patch is ripe.”

“Good for you.”

When he finished eating, Jacob fetched the oil can from behind the metal seat and squirted drops of oil into the gearbox and along the cycle. “Watch what I’m doing, and next time you can do it.” With Joel watching carefully, he finished the job. “The oil helps keep the parts that move against each other from wearing out so quickly.”

“How much oil?”

“A couple of squirts. You don’t want to waste it, but machinery always needs oil to run well. Like horses need feed and water. One thing machinery doesn’t need is to rest like horses do. This afternoon I’ll take out a different team.” He set the can back in its place and looked at his son and Ada Mae. “So Opal is taking you two out strawberry picking?”

“Yep. Mrs. Harrison said we can have strawberry shortcake if we find enough.”

He’d not asked about Opal, just gone about his business but hoped he would see her. Dinnertime couldn’t come soon enough. He drained the water jug and handed it back. “Thanks again and tell Mrs. Harrison thank you too.” He watched the children run back across the field before he climbed back aboard the mower and let down the sickle bar again. Good thing he had an extra set of blades all sharpened and ready to go.

With everything running smoothly again, he let his thoughts play. Every time Joel called him Pa, his heart chuckled. What a difference this year from last. Back then Joel was surly, and he wasn’t much better himself. He’d been no more prepared to be a father than Joel had been ready to accept him as such. It hadn’t helped when Joel took to riding and roping like he was born to it, and his pa had two left hands and a rope that twisted out of sheer spite. Some sight that must have been. As Opal said, it was all in the wrist.

When the sun hit straight up, he drove the team back to the barn, let them loose in the corral, and joined the others at the washing bench.

“Watching you mow is like watching an artist at work.” Rand dried his face with one of the towels.

“Thank you. That grass is near to perfect. Thicker than last year.”

“I spread manure from the barn out there and on the garden. We’ll see how the grain field does.”

“Looks good so far. I read about a ride-on plow too. You got a lot done for using a hand plow.”

“Yes, and to think that some have farmed with no horses, just one man pulling the plow and another man or woman on the handles keeping that plowshare digging in.” Rand shook his head. “I’d much rather ride a horse than dig behind one.”

“You read about the Bonanza farms in the Red River Valley?” McHenry asked.

“Where’s the Red River Valley?” Jacob asked.

“Eastern edge of Dakotah Territory. I got the mower from a place in Fargo. That’s part of the Red River Valley.” Rand flipped the towel over one of the nails pounded into the springhouse wall for that purpose.

McHenry shook his head. “We should have talked about this sooner. You got the mower, so I’ll get the plow. All I could think on was getting that house going.”

“You want to do that, I won’t argue.” The three walked together up to the house. “Might be good if one of the rest of us took lessons from Jacob here on the mower, the upkeep and all. I tried sharpening those blades. It’s downright easy to put a nick in them on the grinding wheel. Sure wish Linc was here. He was a good one on the repairs. Had an eye for that kind of thing.”

Jacob automatically searched for Opal as soon as he walked in the house.

She turned from serving the meat onto a platter and sent him a smile, not quite the old Opal kind but better than being ignored.

“Pa!” Per banged his spoon on the table, his face lighting with a smile that made Jacob grin back.

One day. Someday.

“So how’s the house coming?” Ruby asked McHenry after all the food was on the table and grace said.

“I’m still splitting shakes. Got more than half the roof on.” McHenry buttered his slice of bread and raised it in appreciation. “You’ll have to teach me how to make bread. I do biscuits all right but not bread.”

“I’d be glad to.”

“I was lucky. I had Beans to do the cooking.” Rand passed the bowl of dandelion greens to McHenry.

“You know, Joel could learn to split shakes. I did it when I was his age.” Jacob smiled at his son.

“What about me?” Ada Mae sat up straighter.

“You sure your mother doesn’t need you at home?”

Ada Mae made a face. “She’s got Emily and Virginia. Joel and I picked all the dandelion greens and stacked wood. We’ll do the same at our house tomorrow, most likely.”

Jacob watched Opal taking care of Per while she ate, not taking part in the conversation. Not like his Opal at all.
What can I do? Lord, what? How can I help her?

Per chattered away, only some of his noises real words, but he seemed to think they should all understand him. Opal made sure he ate, didn’t throw half his food down for Ghost, and kept him from flying out of his chair.

The next morning Jacob woke earlier than ever, dressed, and left the soddy where he and Joel lived. He saddled a horse and rode up the road and followed a cut up to the eastern butte to watch the sunrise. Breaking over the lip of the butte just as the sun creased the horizon, he stopped and dismounted, letting his horse graze while he admired the heavenly artist at work. “Lord, such magnificence. I will exalt your name and sing your praises throughout the earth. You are my God, and I praise you.” He sank to the ground, resting his arms on his raised knees, hearing the horse crunching the grass, the bit clanking, a snort.

Dew glittered as the sunbeams struck each drop of water, meadowlarks sang their morning arias, and Jacob breathed in new life. Did Opal ever see this, living in the valley? He glanced over his shoulder to the treetops sticking above the butte lip, the greens of the grasses and prairie plants so many shades of green he couldn’t believe his eyes. Off across the prairie, the grass bent before the slight wind in shimmering grass waves. All around him, low to the ground, were blue blossoms, a field of reflected sky in miniature.

He mounted his horse, saluted the sun now fully climbing the sky bridge, and rode back down to the Robertson ranch. Time to get Joel up so he could milk the cow, unless Ada Mae had already done so.

Tomorrow
, he promised himself.
Tomorrow I will bring Opal up there
. “Thank you, Father. You answered my prayer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“You want me to do what?” Opal stood on the back porch looking down at Jacob.

“Ride up to the butte for the sunrise. I’ve already asked Ada Mae and Joel if they want to come.” Jacob tipped his hat back on his head.

She shrugged. “I guess so. But I need to be back to help get breakfast on the table.” Her heart giggled for the joy of riding somewhere, anywhere, early in the morning.

“Good. Be at Robertsons’ early enough to get up there. You know where we held the cattle last year before that branch took me off the horse? That’s where I was this morning.”