Lord guide and keep you.
Captain Jeremiah McHenry, U.S. ARMY.
Ruby placed the letter on the table. What a wonderful man . She had enjoyed his company—rides to the river with Opal, quiet conversations on the porch. A good friend. So unlike Mr. Harr—
‘‘Ruby, come quick.’’ Opal burst through the swinging door so hard it slammed back against the wall.
‘‘Now what?’’
‘‘You’ve got to see this.’’
Ruby tucked the letter in her apron pocket. She’d read it to the others later. Following Opal, who was now tiptoeing and making shushing motions into the pantry, she saw Cat lying in her box, three kittens nursing, the sun making their fur shimmer. Finding the limp form of the fourth kitten pushed away from the others had been a shock, and many tears had followed—not all of them Opal’s. But now these three days later, Opal had recovered from the death and was once again savoring the miracle of the new lives.
‘‘Aren’t they pretty?’’
Cat had not liked the box behind the stove, and was constantly trying to move the kittens. She once moved one of her kittens into a linen drawer before they caught her and put it back.
The first time Opal caught sight of Cat carrying a kitten in her mouth, she had let out a shriek that brought them all running. ‘‘She’s killing the kittens. Cat is killing her kittens.’’
Charlie had burst through the door first. ‘‘Opal, where, what?’’
‘‘There.’’ Opal stood in place, pointing at Cat who’d started up the stairs.
Charlie picked up Cat with one hand and the kitten with the other. ‘‘No, she just wants some privacy. Think I’ll try moving her box into the pantry.’’
‘‘Opal, you scared me out of three Sundays.’’ Cimarron leaned against the doorframe to the stores and ironing room, fanning herself to restoration.
‘‘Sorry. I was scared to touch her for fear she’d kill it.’’
‘‘That’s how cats carry their kittens. It’s not like she can walk with one in her paws.’’ Daisy plunked a flatiron on the stove. ‘‘You come help me iron the napkins, get your mind on something else.’’
After that, Cat seemed to settle into contented motherhood.
As they now stood in the pantry admiring the new mother with her babies, Ruby laid an arm around Opal’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘‘I’m going out to Mrs. Robertson’s. You want to come along?’’
‘‘How are you getting there?’’
‘‘Charlie’s driving us in Rand’s buckboard.’’
‘‘Sure, I’ll go. Can Milly come too?’’
‘‘No, I got something else to do,’’ Milly put in quickly.
‘‘What?’’
Ruby looked over to see Milly turn fourteen shades of red. No need to ask. She only blushed like that when something involved Private Adam Stone, even to writing letters. ‘‘Now Opal . . .’’
Opal looked up at her sister, disgust splashed all over her face. ‘‘I’d rather go with you any day than . . .’’ Opal returned to the pantry to sink down by the box and stroke Cat.
‘‘We’ll be leaving in just a few minutes, so you better wash your face and put on a clean apron.’’
The sigh that came made Ruby smile. One day Opal would understand how Milly felt, but she hoped that day would be a long time coming.
Meadowlarks showered the earth with their golden tones as they flew up ahead of the team. A crow announced their coming, and another answered. Charlie kept the team at a trot where the track permitted and kept them pulling where the mud in a gully tried to trap the wheels.
Ruby was glad he’d volunteered to drive. She figured she could do it herself but now realized there was more to it than met the eye.
A basket at her feet contained a burnt-sugar cake and a still warm loaf of bread.
She took off her straw hat and let the sun warm her face. If only she could have invited the others to come along and see, hear, and feel spring. The sun, the birdsongs, the breeze lifting the tendrils of hair that insisted on
Captain Jeremiah McHenry, U.S. ARMY.
Ruby placed the letter on the table. What a wonderful man . She had enjoyed his company—rides to the river with Opal, quiet conversations on the porch. A good friend. So unlike Mr. Harr—
‘‘Ruby, come quick.’’ Opal burst through the swinging door so hard it slammed back against the wall.
‘‘Now what?’’
‘‘You’ve got to see this.’’
Ruby tucked the letter in her apron pocket. She’d read it to the others later. Following Opal, who was now tiptoeing and making shushing motions into the pantry, she saw Cat lying in her box, three kittens nursing, the sun making their fur shimmer. Finding the limp form of the fourth kitten pushed away from the others had been a shock, and many tears had followed—not all of them Opal’s. But now these three days later, Opal had recovered from the death and was once again savoring the miracle of the new lives.
‘‘Aren’t they pretty?’’
Cat had not liked the box behind the stove, and was constantly trying to move the kittens. She once moved one of her kittens into a linen drawer before they caught her and put it back.
The first time Opal caught sight of Cat carrying a kitten in her mouth, she had let out a shriek that brought them all running. ‘‘She’s killing the kittens. Cat is killing her kittens.’’
Charlie had burst through the door first. ‘‘Opal, where, what?’’
‘‘There.’’ Opal stood in place, pointing at Cat who’d started up the stairs.
Charlie picked up Cat with one hand and the kitten with the other. ‘‘No, she just wants some privacy. Think I’ll try moving her box into the pantry.’’
‘‘Opal, you scared me out of three Sundays.’’ Cimarron leaned against the doorframe to the stores and ironing room, fanning herself to restoration.
‘‘Sorry. I was scared to touch her for fear she’d kill it.’’
‘‘That’s how cats carry their kittens. It’s not like she can walk with one in her paws.’’ Daisy plunked a flatiron on the stove. ‘‘You come help me iron the napkins, get your mind on something else.’’
After that, Cat seemed to settle into contented motherhood.
As they now stood in the pantry admiring the new mother with her babies, Ruby laid an arm around Opal’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘‘I’m going out to Mrs. Robertson’s. You want to come along?’’
‘‘How are you getting there?’’
‘‘Charlie’s driving us in Rand’s buckboard.’’
‘‘Sure, I’ll go. Can Milly come too?’’
‘‘No, I got something else to do,’’ Milly put in quickly.
‘‘What?’’
Ruby looked over to see Milly turn fourteen shades of red. No need to ask. She only blushed like that when something involved Private Adam Stone, even to writing letters. ‘‘Now Opal . . .’’
Opal looked up at her sister, disgust splashed all over her face. ‘‘I’d rather go with you any day than . . .’’ Opal returned to the pantry to sink down by the box and stroke Cat.
‘‘We’ll be leaving in just a few minutes, so you better wash your face and put on a clean apron.’’
The sigh that came made Ruby smile. One day Opal would understand how Milly felt, but she hoped that day would be a long time coming.
Meadowlarks showered the earth with their golden tones as they flew up ahead of the team. A crow announced their coming, and another answered. Charlie kept the team at a trot where the track permitted and kept them pulling where the mud in a gully tried to trap the wheels.
Ruby was glad he’d volunteered to drive. She figured she could do it herself but now realized there was more to it than met the eye.
A basket at her feet contained a burnt-sugar cake and a still warm loaf of bread.
She took off her straw hat and let the sun warm her face. If only she could have invited the others to come along and see, hear, and feel spring. The sun, the birdsongs, the breeze lifting the tendrils of hair that insisted on
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