DAY 2
Opal's body ached from the weeding she'd done for the second morning in a row, and the long walks to the farm and then back to town had seemed even longer and hotter than they usually did. She swore the weeds were conspiring against her to take over the orchard. It was getting so that she couldn't even be away for a day. She desperately wanted to get to her little room and lay down, if only for a few minutes, to rest a bit. But she knew that was just wishful thinking, that there would be too much work in the saloon kitchen for her. Opal's head drooped as she sighed in exhaustion, but then she caught a sudden swirl of dark fabric out of the corner of one eye and jerked her head up again. Chris Larabee was only a few inches away, about to stride past her. A curt nod of the head was his only greeting for her. She nodded back meekly, watching him stride into the jail.
"You OK?"
The suddenness of the voice practically at her elbow startled Opal so that she nearly dropped her shotgun, but a friendly hand caught and stilled her trembling. Opal looked up in terror and then smiled in relief.
"Julianna!"
"Well, sure. Who'd you think?" The woman smiled at Opal and gestured towards the jail with a nod. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd guess you either just saw the Devil or Chris Larabee."
Opal laughed softly and began to walk towards the saloon. "Is there a difference?" She giggled slyly and Julianna laughed.
"I think so," she said. "At least, I HOPE so." The two women continued to giggle as they walked down the alley. "You've been out to your farm?"
"Yes, I have to keep the weeds from choking out my trees."
"You must be tired. Would you like to come over later for some coffee and a little something to eat?"
"I don't know. I have so much work to do. I have to clean out the ovens today." Opal made a wry face and then laughed at herself. "Maybe, if I'm not too tired." Julianna smiled and nodded.
The two women entered through the back door of the saloon, and their noses were immediately assaulted by the combined scent of whiskey and smoke. Julianna could tell by Opal's puzzled look that she didn't understand why Julianna was following her into the saloon.
"I'm picking up the linens they left to be taken over to the laundry." Julianna smiled. "I'll look for you tonight."
"Sure." Opal nodded in understanding and turned into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind her as Julianna passed through into the main room of the saloon. A large pile of dishcloths, aprons, and assorted linens lay on the floor at the end of the long bar, and Julianna had just bent to start scooping them into her arms when a rough hand grabbed her arm and swung her off her feet and against the wall behind her.
"Well, well. We meet again."
Julianna looked up into a leering face red with whiskey. The man's gaze was fixed on her face, but he tossed his voice over a shoulder to a companion leaning over the bar. "Looka' here, Red. I found me a old acquaintance."
"Let me go. I don't know you." Julianna's voice was low and desperate.
"SURE you do, darlin'! I know you, so you just GOT to know me!" The man laughed, showing cracked and stained teeth. He dragged Julianna to the bar and shoved her between himself and the man he'd called Red, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist so she couldn't move away.
"This just gets better an' better," he leered to Red. "Fust-off we find this dee-lightful saloon." He raised his other hand to catch Julianna's chin between rough fingers. She tried to shake loose but failed. He brought his face closer to hers. "An' THEN I find me an Atchison whore. Ain't that so, Sugar?"
"Atchison! Hey, Tucker, ain't that where you--"
"SHUT UP!" Tucker released Julianna's face to backhand Red, who stumbled several steps and then caught his balance to stand glaring at the larger man. He shrugged then and returned to the bar.
Tucker let his eyes leave Red finally, and rested them on Julianna. "Yeah, Atchison," he whispered. "Where I had me a GOOD time with one a' your girlie friends."
"You're mistaken, Mister." Julianna struggled with renewed energy to get out of Tucker's grasp, and he laughed coarsely and pinned her against the bar. Leaning his face closer to hers, he suddenly shoved his lips against hers and grabbed one of her breasts. Julianna shoved against him and kicked wildly, but Tucker was far stronger than she. Then, as quickly as he'd crushed her, he was gone and she was gasping for breath.
"I believe the lady told you that you were mistaken?" The soft drawl crept into Julianna's awareness and dragged out a piece of the memory Tucker had shaken loose. She looked up to see that Buck Wilmington had dragged Tucker away from her and was holding him fast by the collar, staring rather seriously into the shorter man's face as if puzzled by his stupidity. Julianna shook herself at the sudden connection of sound and mannerism. The mustache had thrown her, and it had been over six years now.
"She ain't no lady," growled Tucker, "That whore--"
The crack of Buck's fist colliding with Tucker's jaw was followed by the sodden thump of his body landing on the punch floor.
"You wanna' try that again?" Buck's voice was even softer and if anything almost gentle.
Tucker gazed up furiously at the tall gunfighter, his hand to the swelling lump on the side of his jaw and his eyes glittering with hate. He stood slowly, then, and picked his hat up off the bar. Buck let out a long breath and turned to look at Julianna, who nodded wordlessly to him and hurried through the kitchen towards the alley, her only thought of getting back to her room and safety.
"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Buck's hand snagged the back of Tucker's collar stopping the man from making a hasty retreat. "There's laws against assaultin' people, 'specially women."
Buck half dragged, half pushed the man to the jail. JD, who'd been reclining in his chair, sat straight up when Buck burst through the door. Tucker's foot caught on a loose board and he stumbled to the floor.
"What's going on Buck?"
"Trouble over at the saloon. Take his guns." Buck never let his eyes leave Tucker's form. JD didn't quite understand what was going on but he did what Buck said. "Get on in there." Buck pushed Tucker into an open cell. Tucker turned, fixing the two gunmen with sinister grin.
"I sure don't understand why all the bother over some whore." Tucker gasped in pain as Buck's hand shot out to catch him around the throat. Buck squeezed threatening to crush his larynx.
"You call her that again and I'll . . ." Buck didn't need to finish the threat. Tucker lowered his eyes and Buck knew he'd made his point. "Keep an eye on him, JD. I'm gonna go check on someone."
Julianna braced herself against the rear wall of the laundry, her breath coming in short rapid gasps. She slid down to sit on the back steps afraid her legs wouldn't hold her and closed her eyes trying to regain her calm. Tucker and then Wilmington! Good lord!
Once her heartbeat had slowed a little, she sighed. She knew she'd better get back to work and get the laundry in. Mrs. Lansing would give her a horrendous tongue-lashing if she caught her sitting out here doing nothing. Wearily she stood up, then, and took her basket to the far end of the lines. She reached out to catch the corner of a sheet she'd hung earlier, noticing that her arm ached where Tucker had grabbed it. She realized then that she could see someone moving on the other side of the white fabric. The shadowy figure moved closer till it was opposite her. She looked up and found Buck peering down over the sheets at her.
"It ain't polite to stare." Julianna lowered her eyes trying to avoid his gaze.
"I came to see how you were. Did he hurt you?" Julianna turned away shrugging her shoulders.
"No, I'm all right. Thanks to you."
"Just doin' my job ma'am." Buck pushed the sheet aside and moved behind Julianna. He reached out to lay a hand gently on her shoulder. Julianna's body tensed at his touch. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I . . . I know." Julianna's voice wavered and Buck wondered if she really believed him. She pulled away from him and continued to gather the laundry. Julianna tried to work quickly. The quicker she gathered the laundry, the sooner she could get away from Buck. She didn't fear him, only what his memory held.
"That man --" Julianna cut him off before he could finish.
"Was mistaken, like you said." Buck knew by her tone that Julianna was lying to him. He watched the way her hands trembled as she folded the laundry. "You're going to have to come over to the jail." Julianna spun around her eyes full of fear.
"Why? What did I do?" Julianna's heart began to race. The pounding in her head grew louder.
"Oh no, darlin'," Buck's voice was gentle, "you didn't do anything. But you're going to have to come and sign charges against Tucker."
Sign charges? Images began to form in her mind. If she made any charges against Tucker there'd have to be a trial. Julianna knew all too well what would happen if there was a trial. Tucker would be more than happy to get up in front of the whole town and tell them just how he came to know her. I can't let that happen, she thought to herself.
"No, no, no, no." Julianna shook her head furiously.
"If you don't I gotta let him go."
"Do what you gotta do, but I'm not gonna sign any charges against him." The laundry basket threatened to slip from Julianna's grip. Buck reached out to steady it, his hands holding hers.
"A man shouldn't be allowed to get away with treating a woman like Tucker did."
"Can't you just forget about it?" Julianna pleaded with him. "Can't we just say he made a mistake and leave it at that?"
"Damn, you're stubborn. Fine; we'll do it your way." Buck released her hands and Julianna walked away from him toward the back door. "I was just trying to help you." Buck's voice was low and Julianna almost didn't hear his words. "Hey, it doesn't matter to me. But he did know you." This time Buck raised his voice to make sure she heard him.
Julianna set the laundry inside the back door and turned around as Buck headed up the alley. "Buck?" He was going to ignore her but something in the tone of her voice made him turn around. Buck could see tears at the corners of her light eyes. "That man," Julianna took a deep breath, "is big trouble. And he never runs alone. If he's here, there's trouble brewing, and you'd better see to it."
Julianna closed her eyes to regain her calm. She opened them to see Opal standing in the open doorway of her little back room, her dark eyes gulfs of amaze and horror in her thin face. Julianna knew immediately, her heart sinking, that her new friend had managed once more to silently hear more than others had intended.
The summer evening had grown dark, the heat settling down over the thick fragrance of cut hay from the fields outside town. Ezra nodded toward a slight figure walking across the wide street towards the jail, and JD's gaze followed. The figure came closer and resolved itself into a small woman with a covered tray in her hands. She paused in the street immediately below the edge of the boardwalk and looked up at JD silently.
"Miz Jones?" He smiled absently, his eyes already wandering the street again.
Opal Jones cleared her throat nervously, and her voice was low. "Mr. Wilmington asked me to bring supper over to your prisoner." JD nodded to her and indicated the door with a slight gesture of permission.
"Supper sounds like a very good idea." Ezra rose to his feet as the woman slipped around the two men and went into the jail. "I shall take my leave of you, Sheriff Dunne, and partake of some victuals myself."
"Yeah, well you don't need to rub it in, OK?" JD scowled at the smile that flitted across Ezra's face at the comment.
"I assure you, I shall return to guard your prisoner while you eat, or send someone else to do the necessary task." He grinned and stepped off the walkway into the street as JD sighed and smacked his hat down lower over his eyes angrily, scooting lower in his chair. Leave it to Buck to think about sending over food for the likes of Tucker, but not for him.
Inside the jail, it was growing dark, the dusk seeping into the corners and along the walls like a gray dust. Opal set the tray on the desk for a moment and raised the wick on the small lantern nearby, then looked at the man reclining on the cot in one of the cells. She saw he was staring at her guardedly from beneath the brim of a dark hat. Opal picked up the tray and approached the door cautiously, her head slightly to one side.
"Mr. Wilmington sent you some supper."
"Didn't ask for any." The man's voice was gruff, indefinably hostile.
"You don't have to ask. Everyone eats." Opal set the tray on the floor and slid it quietly beneath the grating in the door, her gaze on the prisoner. She straightened up and stood there watching, her eyes dark with confusion. Something here was not as she'd expected. Opal didn't like the unexpected; it tended to be dangerous.
The man sighed and threw himself back onto the cot, his eyes staring angrily at the ceiling. "I didn't ask for any a' your slop, an' I ain't eatin' it." He hurled a black look at Opal without warning, and the malice in it slashed at her like a knife. She gasped and stepped back involuntarily. When he saw her reaction, the man grinned and rolled to a sitting position once more. He locked his eyes with her, and his voice dropped to a low hiss. "I'll tell ya' what, though. Why don't you just come in here with me, ya' little half-breed. I'll show ya' what I AM hungry for. C'mon. I'll--"
Opal whirled with a choking throat and burst out the door of the jail into the new darkness. She paused only long enough to realize that the sheriff had risen to his feet at the suddenness of her exit, and was starting towards her. She shook her head at him and hurried down the steps into the street, hearing the crash and clang of the hurled dinner tray striking the wall of the prisoner's jail cell behind her as she did so. The young sheriff's voice rose in immediate outrage, and sharp voices crossed each other behind her as she hurried even faster, nearly breaking into a run.
"Hey, Ezra! How about a quick drink before I gotta' go spell JD?"
The suddenness with which Buck lurched past Opal to greet his gambler friend nearly knocked Opal off her feet. She drew aside to get out of his way, realizing he hadn't even seen her. She was, she reminded herself, fairly small. And he wasn't. She stood in the street a moment near the walkway outside the saloon door and watched him boisterously clap his friend on the back.
The gambler stopped walking and looked back down the street. "I must say I'm surprised you haven't gone down there already, given all that commotion and your proclivity for mentoring young Mr. Dunne."
Buck stopped smiling and his gaze drifted towards the jail. "Yeah, I -- Good lord! What the HELL is goin' on down there?!"
"Sounds like a little trouble." Chris Larabee slipped out of the gathering night to join them, causing Opal to step onto the walkway and draw closer to the wall. The lean gunman scared her, and she had no intention of being noticed by him. His light eyes noticed people even as small as Opal was, and nailed them with looks that penetrated like lightning. Opal shivered slightly, waiting for the men to move. She went on only after they had turned with a single accord and headed back towards the jail, clearing the walkway.
Her steps led to the end of the walk, and then through an alley and around to the back door of the saloon. The kitchen door was propped opened and a sound of rattling dishes and sloshing water tumbled out of it into the alley. Opal hesitated as she passed it, the odor of frying bacon suddenly making her stomach squeeze painfully. She swayed a moment, her eyes shut against the longing, and then hurried past to the door that led to her own room. Once inside, she leaned against the wall and fought for control. Even the smell of the food she'd taken to Tucker hadn't affected her like the smell of that bacon. She thought of how he'd thrown it against the wall, all that good food, throwing it away to make a gesture of anger, and felt bitterness rise in her. But, she reminded herself, there was the bread.
Opal's eyes fell on the bread she'd tucked into a cloth that even now peeked from a fold of the blanket on her bed, and took it up gratefully. She sighed, broke a piece off and put it into her mouth. She let it sit there a moment, the flavor expanding to fill her senses, and then smiled. Bread was good. Opal sat down on the foot of the bed and ate her supper.
Note: THIS PART HAS THE "CUTTING SCENE" IN IT. Those who may be upset by that
should read it carefully or skip the next few paragraphs.
Julianna paced her small room. She sat down on the edge of the bed but only stayed a moment before jumping up and pacing again. The pounding in her head hadn't stopped since the altercation in the saloon. She sat down on her bed again and leaned back against the wall. Pulling her knees up to her chest she unconsciously rocked back and forth. She tried to focus on other things but her mind kept returning to Tucker and Wilmington.
Julianna stretched her arms out to her sides and shook them vigorously, as if shaking them could purge that tingly feeling flowing through her body. She hated this feeling but knew it all too well. That tingly feeling took over whenever things seemed to slip out of her control. She clenched her jaw not allowing the tears to fall. Tears would only make her feel worse. Crying made her feel weak. Julianna knew she could stop all this so easily. It would be so simple to end these feelings, at least long enough for her to sleep.
Her hand reached for a familiar bundle under her pillow. She pulled out a delicate pale blue handkerchief. She clutched it tightly in her hand. Julianna groaned aloud not wanting to continue down this path. She slowly unfolded the handkerchief revealing a piece of broken glass. Julianna held the piece of glass up so that it caught the light given off from the oil lamp next to her bed. Her fingers ran along the flat surface refamiliarizing them with its smooth feel. She tried to remember the last time she'd held the glass.
She pulled up the bottom of her nightgown revealing her upper thighs. Her eyes ran across her pale skin till she found the place. It was pinker than the rest, indicating it was the most recent. Her index finger ran up and down the two inch line feeling its slightly raised surface. The night before she'd left Atchison Julianna had been almost paralyzed by the panic of leaving everything and everyone she'd ever known. That's when she'd made this most recent cut on her thigh. Her upper thighs and arms were covered with numerous scars of varying lengths. She knew what had brought on each mark.
She hadn't cut since she'd been in Four Corners and she didn't want to start again. Julianna's breathing sped up as the waves of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. It only took a moment for her to decide where to do it.
She stretched her left arm out in front of her. Her right hand raised the glass to the inside of her upper left arm. She pressed the edge into her arm and drew it slowly across her skin. A trail of blood followed the glass as she drew it further across her arm.
Julianna sighed contentedly as the tingly feeling disappeared and a stillness swept over and through her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling for a few moments. When she opened her eyes again she watched the way the blood ran in thin jagged lines down her arm.
"Damn." Julianna cursed quietly when she saw the blood had dripped on to her pillowcase. She didn't care if the blood got on her nightgown but her pillowcase was a different story. If Mrs. Lansing saw this she'd be suspicious and Julianna didn't want to have to deal with her questions.
She stripped the pillowcase off and threw a shawl around her shoulders. Her feet padded quietly across the wooden floor. Julianna stepped out into the night and made her way in the bright moonlight to the water pump and pumped the handle repeatedly to get the water flowing. Her body shivered as she thrust her hands into the cold water and began to rinse the pillowcase. She rubbed the fabric violently to purge it of the reminder of what she'd done.
The moonlight threw milky trails of pearl across the undulating surface of the cold water as it tumbled over Julianna's fingers. She found herself transfixed by the movement and by the smooth feel of the liquid's coolness. It braided and plaited itself around her hands, drawing her into a calming embrace as it fell from the pump's dark mouth into the bucket below. She tipped her head back with a long shuddering sigh then, her hair cascading down her back in tumbling waves of its own, and closed her eyes, and felt the moonlight braid and plait itself around her and draw her more deeply into the crystalline moment that had somehow magically formed around her.
"Julianna?"
The voice was so soft, was itself threaded and braided into the night so deeply, that Julianna did not startle at it, but only raised her head and let her eyes draw opened slowly to see the dark-silvery form that she knew was Opal even before she saw her. The small woman took a single step towards her, shadows rippling across her dark features in a tumbling cascade of moonlight, and her eyes gleamed softly in it as she raised her face to the younger woman she'd approached.
"Julianna," she said again, "let me take that." She reached out and slowly drew the fabric from the woman's fingers. Julianna looked down as she felt the texture of the cloth sliding away, and opened her empty hands to the water that still fell upon them. She looked back at Opal to see the older woman looking slowly down at the cloth, then back up at Julianna with a steady expression. Looking at her eyes, Julianna found herself thinking of opals, of pearls and moonstones, of . . . she shook her head and took a step back from the pump.
"It's all right," said the small woman. And somehow it was. She put out one hand to lay it gently upon Julianna's forearm, and nodded back towards the building behind her almost imperceptibly. "Come inside with me. Tea is what you need." Julianna tried to shake her head no, but it didn't happen. Instead, she found herself going along with the small woman, her feet feeling the dust of the alleyway beneath her like silky powder. Everything was undulating tonight, she thought dully, her mind rippling, and the universe was braiding itself around her somehow and embracing her even with the dust of the street. How odd.
The plaintive creek of the wooden door on its hinges was followed by the birth of a soft yellow light as Opal struck a match and laid it to a single fat candle, almost burned down to the top of the crate it sat on in a bed of melted wax. Julianna looked around as she felt herself sink slowly to the surface of the little bed that was the room's only other furniture. She sighed and relaxed even further, and smiled gently at Opal, who had vanished and returned so swiftly and silently that Julianna had been almost unaware of it happening.
"I've put the kettle on in the kitchen," said Opal softly, "and we'll have some tea in a moment." She smiled mischievously then, and it took Julianna by surprise. "Wouldn't Mr. Cardiff be surprised," she said, "at a tea party in his saloon." Julianna chuckled with delight at this unexpected wryness, and Opal's face relaxed into a broader smile at the sound.
"What they don't know won't hurt them, I always say," laughed Julianna.
Opal nodded. "What they don't know might hurt you, though."
Julianna looked up at the older woman's face suddenly, the relaxing of the moment catching like a breath. But Opal was still regarding her with a peacefully open smile. The younger woman shook her head to herself and at Opal and looked back down at her own hands, folding and unfolding in the soft warm light of the candle, so golden after the cool light of the moon outside.
"You know," said Opal, "the people north of here do that when they mourn."
"What?" Julianna's brows knit in confusion.
"Cut themselves." Opal nodded slightly towards Julianna's arm. "The Lakota and others, north of here. We do not do that -- at least, not any longer, but they do. When they mourn." She looked very steadily at Julianna and the kettle began to whistle in the room behind her. "What is it you mourn, my friend?" She was gone suddenly, the shadows of the opened door behind her laced with the soft clattering sounds of teacups and spoons. The shrill whistle of the kettle dropped into silence. A moment later she was back, two cups in her hands, and she handed one of them to Julianna and then somehow folded herself gracefully to the floor at the other woman's feet and wrapped both her small hands around the cup and looked up into Julianna's face. "What is it you mourn?" she asked again.
Julianna stared into the warm liquid for several minutes trying to decide what to say. The stillness of the liquid was soothing. She wished she could feel that same kind of stillness in her life. Her pale eyes raised from the cup and regarded the older woman. Opal sat in front of her patiently waiting.
"My pa left when I was five. Mama wasn't the same after that. She had trouble taking care of us so my grandma came to live with us." Julianna paused taking a sip of her tea. "Grandma took real good care of us. It took a few years but Mama, she came back to us. She wasn't exactly like she was before but she was better than she'd been. But grandma was old, and when I was about nine she died." Julianna felt the burn of tears in her eyes. She dug her fingernails into her palm to distract herself.
"Grandma's death changed Mama forever. She hardly talked or slept, barely ate. About three months after grandma died, my sister Claire and I came home from school and . . ." Julianna's words trailed off as she fought back the memory of what she'd seen that day. She'd kept Claire from seeing their mother, sending her to play with a friend.
"Mama was dead. We didn't have any other family so Claire and I were sent to an orphanage. I stayed there till I was thirteen, then I ran away. I found a job working for a seamstress. It was a decent job. I had a bed and food. One day when I was fifteen I was sent out to do some work for one of the richest families in town. That night the police came and accused me of having stolen some jewelry from the home."
Julianna felt her anger growing as she remembered that night. They'd treated her like she was guilty even though she hadn't done anything. They believed just because she was an orphan and poor that she must also be a thief. "But I didn't do it. I'm not a thief, I never have been. My mother taught me better than that."
"I left during the night. I lived on the streets for a couple of nights. I begged for food at back doors. At one house an old negro woman let me come in and warm up by the stove. She was a kind woman. She asked the woman of the house if I could spend the night. Miss Lucy, the woman who owned the house, felt sorry for me and let me stay. She gave me a job, doing laundry, sewing, helping Mabel with the cooking."
Julianna chuckled lightly and regarded Opal. She couldn't read the older woman's expression. "It didn't take long to figure out this wasn't an ordinary house. It was a brothel." Julianna expected to see shock or disgust on Opal's face but saw only a quiet understanding.
"It was a good place to live. Everyone treated me real well. I was basically happy. After a couple of years Miss Lucy suggested that I . . . uh . . . change my duties. At first I was shocked by her suggestion but I started to see the reality of my situation. It wasn't like any boy was going to be courting kitchen help. I told her yes and worked there till a couple of months ago."
"Why did you leave?"
"My best friend, Amy, she got pregnant. She went to a man, who was supposed to be a doctor, he was gonna help her get rid of it. He butchered her. She died a few days later. After that I just couldn't stay any longer. I sold everything I had and bought fare as far west as I could go. I ended up here."
"What happened to Claire?" It had not escaped Opal that Julianna had not mentioned her sister after saying that they'd gone to the orphanage.
"Scarlet fever." Julianna's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "They wouldn't even let me see her when she was sick. I should have been there when she died. She died alone. No one should have to die alone."
Opal was silent for a long time in the dark shadows where she sat on the floor. Finally she spoke, with soft reluctance.
"What was it that man in the saloon was talking about?"
Julianna's slender frame jerked with surprise. She knew Opal had overheard her encounter with Buck, but not anything of what had happened between her and Tucker. She tried to make out the other woman's expression in the dim light but could see only the barest glimmer of the dark eyes and the planes of forehead and one cheek. She looked down at her own hands in sudden, burning shame, and her voice was choked.
"'Bout six years ago, that man, Tucker, came to the place I was working. He'd been there before. He was . . . an evil man. Got his pleasure from smackin' a girl 'round, makin' her cry." Opal could see in the dim golden light that Julianna's hand trembled slightly.
"That night he chose a girl who'd only been there a couple of months, Laura. I liked her a lot, we had a lot in common. Her parents were dead too. I was in the room next to hers. I could hear him. Hear the awful names he called her as hit her over and over. It seemed to go on for hours." Julianna stopped to take a deep breath.
"I tried to get Miss Lucy to stop him, but she was afraid of what he might do. Sometimes I can still hear the sound of her body hittin' the floor in my head. She and I were in the hall when he came out of the room. I suppose I made things worse, I tried to strike him. He hit me, knocked me against the wall. I told him that he'd never get away with what he'd done. He told us that if we said anything to anyone he'd come back and kill us all."
"If you'd seen the look in his eyes. We knew he meant it. Not that it mattered much, there wasn't anyone to tell. The sheriff didn't give a damn that some whore had been beat to death. The only one that seemed to care was one of his deputies." Opal thought she saw a hint of a smile on Julianna's lips. "I probably wouldn't have even recognized him now if it weren't for his eyes. He has such kind eyes." Julianna's voice had grown soft.
Opal thought about her words and what she'd seen earlier. "It was Buck, wasn't it?"
Julianna smiled slightly at Opal. Then her voice sank to a miserable whisper that guttered like the candle flame beside her. "I don't know why this feels so much worse to tell you, after all you already know now. But it does."
"You feel guilty, somehow?"
Julianna nodded silently, and her head remained bowed after she did. Opal pressed her lips together tightly a moment, then released them in a long sigh full of weary grief. She reached up a slender arm to lay one hand upon the other woman's knee.
"You must listen to me," she said softly.
Julianna looked up slowly, the candlelight swimming in her tears so that Opal's face was even more indistinct. She nodded.
"I know what this is, this guilty feeling that is not your own. I do not know why, but I know what it is. My husband. . ." Here the small woman paused and her voice caught a moment, but she squared her thin shoulders and pushed on even though now a slight tremor ran through her body. Julianna could feel it in the hand resting upon her knee, a frightened trembling that was like cottonwood leaves in a dry breeze. "My husband," said Opal again, " drinks too much whiskey, and when he does he is violent. He hurts people for no reason. One time he hit young Mr. Dunne very hard and no one knows why. One time he struck an old man many times, until he was nearly dead. He has hurt many, many people this way. He does not pay money for things he buys, although he promises he will. He --" The woman's voice broke more roughly this time, shattering on the words that barred her way like great rocks, and she lowered her own head in a gesture that Julianna recognized as shame. "He sometimes hit me," said Opal very softly from beneath her dark hair, "and he would have killed me had I not made him go away." She looked up again, and fixed luminous eyes filled with pain and fear on Julianna's face. "I feel ashamed that I made such a choice of a husband, that I was so foolish as not to see what he was. I feel guilty for being in this position at all, as if it is my own fault."
"Oh, Opal," breathed Julianna, "it is not your fault. Surely you know that."
"Yes, in my head," said Opal. "But my heart tells me I made certain choices, and that anything that happens after that is then also my choice."
"But you did not know he would be this way," protested Julianna, taking Opal's trembling hand into her own.
"As you," said Opal softly, "did not know that a woman in the house where you worked could be murdered without a second thought." Julianna caught her breath, surprised not to have seen the direction the conversation was going to go until this moment, and Opal nodded slowly to her as if reading her thoughts. "We both," she said softly, "mourn the loss of our self-respect."
"Even as we try to get it back again." Julianna swallowed, thinking about her job at the laundry and Opal's attempts to pay off her husband's debts.
"It is not easy," said Opal softly. "I have been afraid for a long time. And now you are perhaps afraid again, too. That makes it only more difficult." Julianna rose silently from the foot of the bed and walked to the doorway to pull it opened and stand in it silently, her arms wrapped around herself, to stare out into the dark alleyway. Opal stood up and remained in the middle of the tiny room, looking at the other woman. "What will you do?" she asked softly.
Julianna turned her head to look back at the smaller woman over one shoulder, and the moonlight caught glints of gold in her hair as she did so. A sudden smile laced her lips and she relaxed against the doorframe. "I think maybe I'll cut Tucker next time, instead of myself," she said with a deep and throaty laugh. Opal, surprised, joined in.
"Oh my!" she said, chuckling, "Oh my! I rather like that!" She came to the younger woman and took her two hands into her own. "You will teach me to be brave, perhaps."
"You are brave now," said Julianna, smiling.
Opal shook her head and ducked away shyly. "Not like you," she said. "Sometimes I cannot stop shaking." She raised one of her hands in the moonlight, and indeed it trembled as if it was a leaf in a windstorm. "You see?" she said. "All I have to do is think of my husband and fear returns to shake me in its teeth like a dog shakes a rat."
"Then why don't you leave? You could go someplace where he'd never find you." Julianna found her mind suddenly running over the possibilities. Austin? Denver? San Francisco?
"I love the little trees too much," said Opal. "It's foolish, I know. But I planted them, and I have cared for them as if they were my children. They are so beautiful to me! I know each one, by touch as well as by sight, and how it grows and is. But the trees are only now taking firm root and reaching the stage where they can begin to produce fruit. If I leave them, they will die." She looked up at the younger woman, and her eyes seemed to bear the warm, dusty night itself within them. "We will live or die together, they and I."