Opal Read Online Free Page B

that in the past. Or gone hunting. But her rifle stood in the gun cabinet Beans had made, along with the others. Even though guns were not allowed at school, she’d taken her revolver along, thanks to Rand, who thought she was much safer with a gun when she was riding alone. Surely Mrs. Robertson didn’t allow her daughters to wear a gun belt and holster. Not that any of them had shown any interest. Unlike Opal.
    ‘‘Ma?’’ One-year-old Per had finally learned to say her name.
    ‘‘Yes, dear, I’m coming.’’ A more tractable child would take a nap without being tied in bed, but not her son. Therefore, when he awoke she needed to be near enough to hear his call, or for sure there would be trouble to pay. She smiled at the sight of his red cheeks and four-tooth grin. ‘‘How’s mama’s big boy?’’
    ‘‘Get up?’’ He waved his arms, then pulled at the band she’d tied around his middle. She’d learned rather quickly that she must tie it in the back and without a bow. She untied the knot, blowing on his neck to make him laugh.
    ‘‘Pa?’’
    ‘‘Out with the horses. Are you wet?’’
    He shook his head. ‘‘Wet.’’
    ‘‘You are a parrot.’’ She checked his soakers and laid him on the table to change him. When she bent over to unpin his diaper, he pulled at the front of her waist, making sucking noises at the same time. ‘‘You’re hungry, eh?’’ He was always ready to nurse after a nap, even though he could drink from a cup, a slow and painful process that usually got more on him than in him. As soon as she had him dressed again in the loose dress that all small children wore, she sat down in the rocker and unbuttoned her waist. He nursed greedily for the first couple of minutes, then smiled up at her, milk dribbling from the side of his mouth, one fat little fist reaching for her mouth.
    ‘‘You tend to your business there, you little scamp.’’ She dabbed at his mouth with her apron. ‘‘Don’t waste the good stuff. The cow hasn’t come in yet.’’ Not long after their wedding two springs ago, Rand had come home leading a milk cow.
    ‘‘Wouldn’t it be just as easy to tame one of the seven hundred cows you have?’’
    ‘‘No. Beef cows and milk cows are two different things.’’
    ‘‘Look mighty close to the same to me—four legs, four teats, a head, and a tail. Color’s different, is all.’’
    Rand had assumed his patient look and tried to explain the difference. Finally he finished with, ‘‘You saw that long-horned mama take after me that day. You think she’d let me milk her? I’d get kicked clear to Dickinson if I tried.’’
    ‘‘If you say so.’’
    ‘‘Besides, milk cows give a lot more milk than range cows and for longer.’’
    ‘‘How do you know? Those calves out there look mighty fat.’’
    That evening he had called, ‘‘Ruby, come on out here so I can teach you how to milk.’’
    ‘‘Me?’’
    Ruby could still remember the shock she’d felt when she realized he was serious about her taking over milking Fawn, as they’d named her. Back at the hotel they’d bought milk and cream from their next-door neighbor. Learning to be a ranch wife took more training than running a hotel. She’d learned to milk but had drawn the line at butchering. At least so far. Between Rand and Beans, there was always someone around to dress out whatever game was brought in. The young chickens hadn’t grown big enough to eat, and all the hens were laying, so she’d managed to forestall that grisly job.
    The first time she’d tried gutting one of the prairie hens, she turned away to heave up the meager contents of her meal. That was about the time she realized she was in the family way. Talk about joy-filled. That she’d been.
    Good thing Opal didn’t mind doing the chores of milking, feeding the chickens, and gathering the eggs.
    ‘‘All right, young man, enough playing.’’ Ruby sat him on her lap, and while she fastened her buttons, he