Chapter Seventeen
L
ong before dusk settled, the sound of a fiddle summoned the townspeople to the meeting room of the Golden Rule. To make room for dancing, the chairs had been lined up against the walls. At one end of the room stood a raised platform, on which were Farley Duke with his fiddle, Barney Healey wheezing out tunes on the mouth organ, and Nellie Cooper, playing the tinny piano. At the other end of the room the last of the desserts were set out on a long table, along with bowls of punch.
Some of the men disappeared from time to time, to sip from a jug supplied by Beau Baskin. Of course, Beau had to take a sip for every one taken by the others. And very soon Beau’s eyes started to cross, and he was walking like a sailor on a rolling ship.
When the music started, Pearl and Cal were the first to step onto the dance floor. Pearl, in the new pink gown supplied by Ruby, offered her hand to her handsome husband, and they began to move in a slow circle. Their two sons looked equally handsome in their new clothes, with their faces shining and their hair slicked back.
Daniel and some of his friends stood to one side of the hall, eyeing the platter of cookies. Whenever they thought no one was looking, they would snatch another cookie, or fill another cup with punch.
Fourteen-year-old Gil was too old for snitching cookies and punch. Besides, the minute he laid eyes on Birdie Bidwell, wearing her new frilly white dress, with her hair tied back in white ribbons, all he could think about was getting closer to her. And the only proper way for a boy to get close to a girl was to ask her to dance. So he did. And she floated around the room in his arms. It was the first time anyone in Hanging Tree had ever seen Birdie look anything but clumsy. In truth, she looked absolutely graceful, blushing and smiling up into Gil’s eyes, being held in his arms.
Jade and Dan, on opposite sides of the hall, were still busy directing the social. Jade was folding the quilts that would be raffled off. Dan was trying to keep the men from slipping away to drink. But at the first strains of music, they looked across the room, then drifted toward each other and came together in a dance.
Adam searched the crowded room until he located Diamond sitting with a cluster of women. Judging by the look on her face, it was the last place she wanted to be. Taking pity on her, he approached and said, “Want to dance?”
She accepted his hand and got awkwardly to her feet. As soon as they were out of earshot she hissed, “You know I don’t dance.”
“Want to go back and gossip with Lavinia and Gladys?” he muttered.
She put a hand on his shoulder and allowed him to lead her to the floor.
“Oh,” she said between gritted teeth, “I’ll be so glad when I can walk without waddling.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
For a moment she merely stared at him. Then she said, “How can you say that? I’m fat and clumsy and ugly.”
He drew her as close as her swollen middle would allow, and pressed his lips to hers. “Diamond, you’re so beautiful, you take my breath away.”
She had to blink back the tears that sprang to her eyes. But she was flushed and radiant as she allowed him to lead her slowly through the dance.
Ruby, watching from across the room, felt tears in her own eyes, as well.
Beside her Patience said, “All three of your sisters look so happy. They’re positively glowing. And their husbands are so handsome, and so in love.”
“Oui.”
It was all she could manage over the lump in her throat.
At a little gasp from Patience, Ruby turned to where her young friend was looking. Making his way across the room was Neville Oakley. His hair had been neatly washed and combed. And he was wearing a clean shirt and trousers.
“Good evening, Miss Ruby, Miss Patience,” he said.
“Good evening, Mr. Oakley. My, you look fine,” Ruby said with a smile.
“Thank you.” His big hands hung at his sides. He was staring at Patience with hungry eyes. “You look as pretty as a sunflower.”
Ruby glanced at the young woman beside her, who was blushing clear to her toes.
“Will you dance with me, Miss Patience?”
She nodded, too overcome to speak. He took her hand and led her to the floor. And as they started to dance, Ruby felt the lump in her throat getting too big to swallow. To some in the crowd, Neville Oakley probably looked like a big, clumsy giant, and Patience like a small, helpless waif. But to Ruby they looked like a happy, perfectly suited couple.
“Beau Baskin had better watch himself now,” came the voice of Arlo Spitz. “Here’s the marshal. And he looks mad enough to spit bullets.”
Ruby tore her gaze from Neville and Patience.
Quent Regan stood framed in the doorway, studying the crowd. The anger his deputy had mentioned was evident in the frown line between his brows, and the tight set of his jaw.
When he spotted Ruby he started across the room. She felt the pull of his dark gaze, and her heart started doing somersaults. Several times Quent was stopped by friends and neighbors. Though he paused to shake a hand, or offer a word, he continued making his way toward her.
Mon Dieu
. He was going to ask her to dance. Her heartbeat accelerated. She reached for a fan and began waving it frantically, in the hope of cooling her heated flesh. And all the while she watched him, feeling her cheeks growing more flushed with every step he took in her direction.
“May I have this dance, Miss Ruby?”
For a moment Ruby was too distracted to hear. But when the voice came again, louder, she turned her head. And felt a stab of bitter disappointment. Byron Conner was standing directly beside her.
“Mr. Conner.” The fan slipped from her hand.
The handsome young banker gallantly bent and retrieved it. She closed it and set it aside, just in time to see Quent, still watching her, pause beside Millie Potter.
“Well, Miss Ruby? May I have this dance?”
“Oui.
Of course.” Flustered, she allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.
As they began to move together, she peered over his shoulder in time to see Quent take Millie’s hand and lead her onto the floor.
Moments later they danced by, and Ruby heard the lilt of Millie’s laughter. And the deeper sound of Quent’s chuckle.
It cut, sharp as a razor.
“You’re a very good dancer, Miss Ruby,” Byron said. “And easily the prettiest lady in the room.”
“Merci.”
She forced a smile to her lips. But her voice lacked conviction. And she thought her heart was surely breaking. In fact, as she moved in Byron’s arms, she was certain she could feel the sharp, brittle shards as her heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.
The dance floor grew more crowded as the music became livelier. There were bursts of laughter as the musicians broke into jigs and reels, bringing even the most reluctant dancers to their feet. Even the frail widow Purdy, who seemed constantly at death’s door, lifted her skirts and set her feet flying through a jig. Afterward, she collapsed into a chair, laughing and blushing at the wild applause.
Through it all, Ruby was forced to dance with nearly every man in Hanging Tree. All except one. Quent Regan, she noticed, had danced with every woman in the room. But he had steadfastly managed to avoid coming near her.
Now, as another song ended and Arlo Spitz escorted her to a chair, he said, “How about some punch, Miss Ruby?”
“Yes, please. That would be nice.”
She picked up her fan, but before she could use it, Adam caught her hand. “Come on. They’re playing a reel. And Diamond says she’d rather sit this one out.”
Ruby and her brother-in-law joined the other couples, clapping their hands, moving through the steps. But as the reel ended, the music began again, and Farley Duke announced that every man had to change partners and dance with the lady on his left. Adam turned to his left, Ruby turned to her right. And found herself face-to-face with Quent Regan.
For a moment neither of them moved. Quent scowled, looking as if he’d been caught in a trap. Then, stepping closer, he reluctantly opened his arms. Ruby hesitated, and thought about running from the room. But everyone would see. And she would be the topic of discussion for a very long time to come.
She could get through this, she told herself. It was, after all, just a dance. Lifting her hand to his shoulder, she began to move with him.
At first their movements were stiff and awkward.
“Looks like you’re having fun tonight.” Quent had never before noticed how small her hand was. And how cold.
She lifted her head in that haughty way. “I am having a marvelous time. And you?”
“Great. Just great.”
Someone bumped them, and Quent felt the quick press of her body against his before Ruby managed to pull back. Heat jolted through him. God in heaven. His body was on fire.
Ruby wished she had her fan. A moment ago she’d been cold. Cold and rigid with anger. Now she was far too warm.
She struggled to think of something simple to say. Something impersonal. “I saw Beau Baskin passing a jug earlier.” The hand at her waist tightened. A barely perceptible move. But she felt it through every pore of her body. She could remember a time when that same hand had stroked, and aroused.
Mon Dieu,
she was nearly jumping out of her skin.
“Beau’s probably lying in the street by now, dead drunk.” Without meaning to, Quent pressed his lips to her temple.
Ruby’s hand tightened at his shoulder as she absorbed the tremors that exploded through her.
“I’ll take Beau over to the jail in a while. Lock him up till morning so he can sleep it off.” With his lips in her hair, Quent could smell the sweet, earthy scent of her. It always did something to his brain. And his body. Right now his body was reacting in the worst possible way. The whole damned town could see him. And he couldn’t stop himself. Now that he was finally touching her, he could feel himself slipping.
It had been so long. So damned long.
The music ended, but Quent continued holding her, standing so still he looked like a statue.
Arlo hurried up, holding out a cup. “I got that punch, Miss Ruby.”
She seemed not to hear. She didn’t even look at him. And when he tried again, Quent growled, “The lady doesn’t want punch right now, Arlo.”
“Well, yes. I can see...I guess...” The deputy gave them both a long, puzzled look, then drained the cup and hurried away for more.
The music started again. A slow waltz. But though the couples around them circled and twirled, Quent and Ruby stood, barely swaying, just holding on to each other.
“Ruby...”
“Quent...”
They spoke each other’s name in unison. Each stopped, flustered, waiting for the other to finish.
Ruby’s face colored.
Quent’s jaw clenched.
He swallowed and tried again. “Would you like some air?”
“That...that would be nice. Some other time. But I don’t think it would be proper to leave since Jade and Dan—”
“For God’s sake, Ruby.” The words were wrenched from him. “Won’t you, just this once, take pity on me? I want you away from all these prying eyes. I want you alone. Now.”
Her eyes widened. She looked up into his and could read a slow, simmering fury there. And something more. Something she hadn’t recognized until this moment. Anguish. Torment. The same torment she’d been suffering all these long agonizing weeks.
She wanted to touch a hand to his cheek. But she dared not. One touch, and they’d both be lost. Instead, she lowered her head, avoiding his eyes.
“
Oui
.”
It was all she said.
All he needed to hear.