Amethyst

by Lauraine Snelling

  Jacob leaned back in his chair, disappointment chewing at the edges of his mind. While he enjoyed the arrival of the schoolchildren, he’d been looking forward to watching Opal as she caught up on the news from school. Though she’d disliked Mr. Finch, Jacob figured she must like learning when she continued working for Mrs. Hegland to pay for school lessons.

  Emily turned to her mother. “Do you think I could take piano lessons more often than once a week if I could figure a way to pay for them?”

  “I don’t know why not. Have you talked to Pearl about it?”

  “Not yet. Hey, Opal told me that she might not be working there any longer.”

  Jacob sat closer to the table and leaned his elbows on it. Disappointment took another bite. What was Opal planning now?

  Joel came in the back door as Opal came in the front. He’d stopped by the soddy where he and Jacob lived and had changed out of his school clothes already. He hung his hat on the wall peg and came toward the table.

  “Hey, Opal.”

  Jacob studied his son. Did he grow another two inches overnight? His pants were too short again, and his wrists were showing bone below his shirt cuffs. Granted these were his old clothes, but still he seemed to be shooting up fast.

  While Opal smiled at their mouse story, she didn’t break into laughter as she would have in the fall. Opal had always laughed so easily, her merry eyes inviting everyone to join her. Had she been there, she might have been the one to put the mouse in the desk. But not this Opal.

  “You all ready for a roping review?” Opal asked, shaking her head for a “no thanks” when Cora offered her coffee and warm bread with jam.

  “In a minute.” Ada Mae charged off down the hall.

  “Pa,” Joel said, standing by his father’s shoulder, “Auntie Colleen said to greet you. I’m glad she’s not going back to Pennsylvania.”

  “Yes.” Jacob nodded. “That was a wise move.”

  “She would be a good ma.” Joel took his chair and bit into the slice of bread sitting in front of his place.

  Jacob stared at his son. Where had that come from? If he didn’t know better, he’d think perhaps Joel was hinting, playing matchmaker. He glanced up to catch a gleam in Mrs. Robertson’s eye. She’d heard. He shook his head, one side of his mouth trying to pull the other into a full smile.

  If Joel still missed his mother, he’d never said so. But then, they never talked about the trip west or what went on in their former lives. That seemed to be a pattern with the people who landed in Medora, as if their lives began when they put down roots here in the badlands.

  Did this mean his son was growing up? Other than eyelashes long as a jackrabbit’s, he was all gangly boy with freckles and a gap between his two front teeth that made it easy to whistle. At nearly nine years old, he already showed evidence of gaining the Chandler height. Looking at him was like seeing his younger brother, Rob, when he was this age. Everyone had said that he and Rob looked enough alike to be twins.

  Jacob pushed back his chair. “I’ll be down at the barn when you’re all ready.”

  Before long they all trailed down to the barn, where he had their ropes set out on the corral posts and the milk cow loose in the enclosure. While she would most likely take offense at being roped and try to kick him when he milked her, there were no cattle close enough to the homeplace to use.

  “Ma said not to forget our chores.” Ada Mae rolled her eyes. “She says that every day.”

  “All right, everyone, shake out your rope and let’s begin.” Opal stood in the middle of the corral, the milk cow at the far side, watching them all carefully.

  Virginia, Ada Mae, Joel, and Jacob formed a circle and did as she said.

  “Now, one at a time, drop the loop over the snubbing post. Joel, you go first.”

  Joel’s loop swirled and floated over the post as if nothing else could be done. It took Virginia two tries, but she managed. Ada Mae’s slipped off the first time but settled the second.

  Jacob watched the others, his hand tightening, as did his stomach. Why? He could preach on Sunday morning, conduct weddings, baptisms, and funerals, visit the sick and dying, but right now he might as well be dying. His hand shook.

  “Mr. Chandler.” Opal nodded. “Your turn.”

  I know. Does she think I’m blind or something? All right, hand, rope, mind, let’s all get along. God, I really don’t want to make a fool of myself.

  “Go, Pa, you can do it.”

  Jacob looked over to see his son nodding and smiling, the wide kind of smile that said “I’m cheering for you.” He shook out his rope, spun the loop, and let it fly—to drop over the post on the first try.

  “Very good, Mr. Chandler.” Opal’s smile almost reached her eyes.

  Joel jumped and clapped. “You did it. See, you did it!”

  Jacob walked forward and lifted his rope from the snubbing post, coiling it back in his hand. Now, if only he could rope her heart like he had this post. “Thank you, Miss Torvald.” He kept his gaze on his rope, knowing his eyes would say too much.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Today they were raising McHenry’s house. What a way to celebrate May.

  Amethyst stared out the still-dark kitchen window. The sky lightened as she watched, and the rooster gave his first creaky crow. He tried again and by the third effort burst forth a full cock-a-doodle-do. With that, the sun painted the high clouds in shades of vermilion, streaks of persimmon, and patches of deep purple. She wished she were up on the butte to see the thin curve of live gold on the horizon. They had done just that a week ago and waited until the sun broke the bounds of night and threw itself into the heavens.

  She’d heard the men leave some time ago to be out at the site at the first hint of light. The women would bring the food in wagons later. The kitchen was already ripe with the aroma of the beans that had baked through the night, rising bread, and browning bacon. She’d not seen a house-raising before, so this promised a new adventure. She could already see the cabin in her mind, since McHenry had described it to her so clearly one evening when they visited on the porch until the mosquitoes drove them inside.

  How she loved to listen to his stories, the sound of his voice, his laugh.

  “Good morning.” Pearl entered the kitchen, as usual tying her apron on as she came. “I laid out a dress that I know I will never get back into because I refuse to any longer be laced into a corset. Having babies is detrimental to a slim waist. It should fit you with a bit of altering.”

  “But I—you have given me so much.” Amethyst ducked her chin and nibbled her lip. She knew that with few boarders, the house was not paying for itself.

  “Never enough for all you have done for us. And since I have no money for wages, this way I feel I am meeting my obligations somewhat.” She patted Amethyst’s shoulder as she walked by. “Besides, you are bringing in money for us with the sale of your cottage cheese. Mrs. Paddock was asking about more after church on Sunday.” Pearl shook her head. “If we could find another milk cow, I would buy it, as you suggested, but Carl says we can have no more cows than we can cut enough hay for, so I shall be content with two.”

  Amethyst thought to the cheese she had ripening in the press Carl made for her. Wait until they tasted that. The chickens were growing fat on the whey; if only they had a sow with piglets to use up the rest.

  “Ma?” Carly wandered into the room, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her nightshift dragging on the floor.

  Pearl picked her up and hugged her close, rocking from foot to foot in a way the little girl loved. “How’s Ma’s big girl this morning?” They waltzed over to the window and watched the swallows swoop to pick up mud from along the pump and build their houses under the eaves of the barn.

  “Birds. Pretty.” Carly leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder.

  Lord, will there ever be a baby in my life? Amethyst thought of the little gown she’d kept from those her mother had made. Was she foolish to have saved it? Would she ever ha
ve a chance to use it? Much as she loved living and working here at the Heglands’ boardinghouse, she dreamed of a man of her own, a home of her own, and children.

  She’d even written down the names for her children: David, Darius for a girl, Stephen, and Melinda. That last name she’d heard one night in a story Pearl was reading aloud.

  Lord, you are so good to me to bring me here. She could never thank Him enough. While she often prayed for her father, with the passage of the months she doubted he’d come looking for her. He would have done that immediately. Or so she reasoned. She no longer woke with nightmares of him walking off the train and showing up to drag her home.

  “You seem preoccupied this morning.” Pearl set Carly in her chair and kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

  Amethyst felt the heat start in her chest and flare upward. Here she was daydreaming when she should be preparing breakfast. Ach. Such laziness. She gave the porridge a good stir and held a spoonful up to see if it was done. With a nod, she filled two of the bowls on the warming shelf and dolloped one spoonful for Carly in another. She set the bowls on the table and heard a familiar “da-da-da” from the bedroom. Joseph had progressed to recognizable sounds, and he entertained both himself and them with his chuckles and finger plays and sounds.

  “You want me to get him?”

  “No.” Pearl pointed to a chair. “You sit down, and I will fetch him. If I gave you a chance, you would spoil me so rotten I’d never do a thing.”

  “Not much chance of that,” Amethyst muttered under her breath as she did as she was told.

  “And what time did you get up?” Pearl cocked her head and an eyebrow to make Amethyst shrug, then followed the sounds to her son, who crowed in delight as soon as he saw her.

  Morning sounds at the boardinghouse spoke peace and delight every day.

  They’d just finished cleaning up when a “Halloo” called Amethyst to the back porch.

  Cimarron and Daisy and their children laughed from the light wagon pulled by a single horse. “Good morning. We’re on our way out to McHenry’s and brought you some mail. Came yesterday, but I didn’t have time to run it over.”

  Amethyst walked out to get the mail and admire the doll one little child showed her. “Thanks. We’ll be leaving soon too, but we’re not loaded yet.”

  “Charlie took the coffeepot with him but forgot the coffee, so I figured we better get on out there and get the coffee brewing.”

  “Good idea. We’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Hup.” Cimarron pulled on the reins to back the horse and turned to leave, the children laughing and waving good-bye.

  Amethyst glanced up as a meadowlark spilled joy from overhead. Ah, what a glorious day. On the porch she glanced at the two letters in her hand. Her father’s spidery handwriting leaped up at her. Her heart skipped a beat, then fell, as if coated in lead.

  “What happened?” Pearl rushed toward her. “You’re white as a sheet.”

  Amethyst handed her one letter and held her own between two fingers. “My father.”

  Pearl sucked in a deep breath. “I see.” Bit by bit through the months, she’d pulled information from Amethyst about her family and life in Pennsylvania. “Okay, I’ll pour you a cup of coffee and you sit out on the porch, if you want to be by yourself, and read your letter. I’ll go ahead and finish packing the food.”

  Amethyst nodded. She glanced toward the stove, so tempted to drop the letter in the fire and pretend she’d never received it. But that was the coward’s way. Instead, she did just as suggested and retired to the porch. Slitting open the envelope, she dragged a piece of paper out and unfolded it. She closed her eyes. Please, Lord, help me to bear this.

  She read the first two lines, and a smile tickled her cheeks. The next line brought on a chuckle and the last a full-throated, bellybobbing laugh. She read the missive again and kept on laughing.

  Pearl burst through the door. “What is it? Are you all right?”

  Amethyst shook her head, nodded, and laughed some more, handing Pearl the letter at the same time.

  “He’s married?” Pearl read it aloud.

  “Dear Daughter,

  Thank you for yer letter of April. I am sorry Joel is not my grandson. I am married. Beulah takes good care of me.

  The best,

  Yer Pa

  P.S. Send back train ticket.”

  “Beulah takes good care of him. God give her strength.” Amethyst tipped her head back and chuckled again. “That poor, poor woman.”

  “This means you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Pearl handed the letter back. “You won’t send him the ticket, will you?”

  “Good heavens, not in this life.” Amethyst thought to the return ticket she had safely tucked away in the back of the family Bible. If she ever needed money, she could get some by cashing in the ticket. And she still had the gold pieces her mother had left for her should an emergency occur.

  She planted her hands on her knees and pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s get on out to the raising before it is all done. You do know how to get there?”

  “Carl said he’d tie flags on bushes for us to find the way.”

  “I’ll harness the horses and bring the wagon up.” Amethyst stared at the envelope in her hand. Burn it. What a waste of good paper. Tear it up in tiny pieces and burn it. Waste not, want not. Ignoring the clamor in her mind, she marched into the house, set the stove lid aside, ripped the letter, envelope, and all into tiny bits, and watched them flare into flames before even reaching the coals. She set the lid back in place, dusted off her hands, and headed outside to the applause made by Pearl’s clapping hands.

  Sunbonnets shading their faces, they followed the flags and, as they neared McHenry’s site, heard the sound of laughter, the thudding of axes, the shouting orders, and children calling to one another in a game. They smelled the smoke of a campfire and the fragrance of boiling coffee.

  “I thought you’d never get here.” Opal trotted over to tie the horses to a hitching post in the shade of a wide sheltering oak tree.

  Amethyst sat for a moment and looked around. “What a lovely place for a house.” Protected by the hills on either side, the house would face west to the river and to the buttes on the opposite side. Tall cottonwood trees shaded the house that now had log walls chest high. As two men kept the next log from rolling back down the ramp, two others pulled on the hoisting rope and dropped the notched log into place. The thud echoed in the valley.

  The children, along with the young girls minding them, clapped and cheered. The men wiped sweat from their foreheads with the backs of their hands and moved the ramp logs around to the next side.

  Off to another side others were building the trusses to support the roof.

  Amethyst’s gaze unerringly found Jeremiah McHenry. He was adzing a log to flatten the top and bottom so it fit more tightly. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, sweat darkening the shirt, and when he stopped for a breather, he pushed the brim of his hat back with one finger. As she’d heard someone say once, he was a fine figure of a man in spite of the black patch over his eye.

  She turned to see Pearl watching her, a knowing smile curving her lips.

  The flush Amethyst so despised roared up her neck and turned her face to fire. Was it that obvious? How could she not have come to care for him—no other man in her entire life had asked for her opinion or thanked her for every little service or told her stories into the late evening—in spite of the red warning flags of flask and temper?

  She shook her head both inside and out. She knew what kind of woman he wanted, one like Pearl or Ruby, who would know how to dress in stylish clothes, carry on a conversation, use the correct fork, and look fine on her man’s arm. Both Rand Harrison and Carl Hegland stood straighter and walked with pride when their wives laid a hand on their arms and smiled into their eyes.

  Instead of joining with the women who were sewing curtains for the windows and stitching a quilt for his new bed, Amethyst made sure the
tables were ready for the food they kept in the shade and covered against the flies. She carried the water bucket around and filled the dipper for each of the men to drink, laughing when they sloshed water over their faces.

  “Summer sure came by today,” Charlie said. “Thanks for the water. We’ll stop for dinner when the sun is straight up.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  She let her sunbonnet shade her face when she served McHenry and nodded when he said, “Thank you.” Did he suspect how she felt?

  At the cut of an expletive she turned, her water bucket sloshing on her skirt. She’d recognize his voice anywhere. McHenry was picking himself off the ground, muttering under his breath, yet she could still hear him. He’d never used that kind of language around her.

  “You all right?” Rand stopped on his way over to help when McHenry motioned him away.

  “I’m fine.” His growl belied the words.

  He tripped again. She’d known it immediately. That he tripped and misjudged distances so often made it no easier. She could understand that. But he gets so angry. She watched as he turned away, drew something from his shirt pocket, and tipped his head back. The sun glinted on the silver flask.

  He must have struck his bad leg in the fall.

  Lord, what do I do? I can understand why he does this, but I can’t stand the idea of being around a drinker who swears. She turned away, still wanting to go help him. Ach, such doings.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  June slipped into July, and no matter how hard Opal worked, the darkness only lightened once in a while, usually when she was playing with Sprout. Otherwise it never left.

  She’d overheard Rand and Ruby talking about her one night.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Ruby had said.

  “Nor I.”

  If I knew what to do, I would do it.

  “The laughter she always brought just isn’t here, and if I scold her one more time, I think I shall banish myself to the woodshed. Scolding doesn’t help, praying hasn’t helped, trying to get her to talk—that’s as hopeless as trying to wash skunk stink off Ghost.”