Ruby (11 page)

“Would you answer that?” she whispered to Opal. Dipping the cloth in the now warm water, she buried her face in it and, water slipping down her arms, inhaled the dampness and washed the grime from her face and neck.

“Ruby, it’s Jasmine. Shall I tell her to come back later?”

“No.” Ruby huffed a sigh. Why was it so difficult to get time to even wash? Why couldn’t they have come earlier?

She dried her face and shoved her arms into the sleeves of her wrapper, belting it as she came around the screen.

“Sorry to bother you.” Now Jasmine leaned against the door. “Would all the stuff you told Cimarron be the same for me?”

“If you want to stay.”

“I do.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning at six, ready to scrub.”

“I only got my wrapper and fancy clothes.”

“Wear your oldest and most decrepit.”

Her eyebrows turned into question marks. “I’ll see if Cimarron has anything.”

“Can you sew?”

Jasmine shook her head, her dark hair catching glints in the lamplight.

“Guess you’ll be learning then. What can you do besides . . . you know.”

“I can sing and dance.”

“I know that, but what about cooking, ironing—”

“I can do that—ironing, I mean. But other stuff, I learn quick.”

“Good. I’ll see you at six.”

“I can stay, then?”

“Yes.”

Jasmine turned to leave, then stopped. “Ah, can I change my name back to my real name?”

“I don’t see why not. What is it?”

“Daisy, like the flower. Daisy Whitaker. Belle said daisies are common old weeds, and she wanted something fancy for her girls.”

“Daisy sounds quite lovely. Oh, and there’ll be no face painting. Tell Cimarron too.”

“ ’Night.”

I hope so
. Ruby returned to tepid water and her ablutions. “You have to wash before you can get in bed, Opal.” She came from behind the screen, hairbrush in hand.

“I’ll brush your hair for you.”

“Wash first.”

“Ah, Ruby, I’m clean enough.”

Ruby held up Opal’s hand and showed her the streaks of dirt on her arm. “Down to your drawers.”

While Opal splashed behind the screen, Ruby took out her writing case and uncorked the bottle of ink.

Dear Mrs. Brandon,

We are settling in here. My father died the same night we arrived, but we were able to talk with him, weak as he was. Our inheritance is a hotel called Dove House located in Little Missouri. We are in the process of cleaning it from attic to basement so that we can offer travelers both clean beds and good food.

Since there was no way she could describe what things really were like, she chose her words carefully.

Some of the people who worked here before are leaving, but some will stay. How I wish I had asked Cook for some of her recipes. If you would be so kind as to do that, I would be even further in your debt.

The country has a certain wild beauty, but we have not had time to go riding out in it like Opal wants. I have yet to see any other children here, but all she asks for is a horse.

Oh, you would have laughed when she learned how broody hens act. She said the hen attacked her, and the scratch on her hand proved it.

I will write more later. Please know that we miss all of you dreadfully. While I would rather get back on the train heading east, I have promised my father to give this a try.

Faithfully yours,
Ruby Torvald

She closed up her case and let Opal do her one hundred nightly strokes for healthy and shiny hair, something Ruby had learned at her mother’s knee.

“Now I’ll brush your hair while you read our verses for today.” She handed Opal the Bible she kept on the stand by the bed.

“Where should I read?”

“How about from the Psalms? I think we need to be reminded how important it is for us to praise God.”

“You didn’t praise Him for the mouse today.”

“No, I most surely didn’t.” She flinched at the memory. A chuckle started. “I didn’t know anything could move so fast.”

“Scared me too.” Opal giggled as she flipped pages.

Ruby leaned her forehead on the top of Opal’s head as they laughed softly. “I wonder what will happen next?”

She found out the next afternoon when a furious pounding came at the front door. “Open up!” The man’s voice sounded anything but friendly. And he wasn’t begging.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Can’t you read the sign?”

“Yes, I can read, and if you don’t open this door, I’m going to break it down.”

Where are you, Charlie, when I need you?
“If you want to talk with me, you may come around to the back. This door is locked, and I don’t have the key.”

The heels of his boots thudded against the porch floor all around the building, accompanied by a jingling sound.

“That’s his spurs,” whispered Milly at the question Opal didn’t get to ask. “Spurs is what they wear on their boots to make the horse go faster.”

“Oh.”

Ruby tucked a strand of hair up in her bun and smoothed the sides. Stubborn little strands refused to lie down, something like the way she felt right now. Who did this man think he was anyway, giving orders like that?

Most likely one of the girls would know him, but she’d seen Belle leave early in the morning, all togged out in the styles sure to catch a man’s eye. Cimarron and Daisy were up in the attic scrubbing it down so they could move all of their beds up there in preparation for reopening the hotel.

That left her, Milly, and Opal, whose eyes danced in delight at this interruption.

Ruby knew with every sense in her body that this was not going to be pleasant.
So, do what Mrs. Brandon would do: straighten up, put a smile on your face, and speak softly and gently
. Straighten up was the easy part. Smiling was more difficult because her lips trembled, and speaking softly? Well, getting any words out at all might be part and parcel of a good miracle.

If only Charlie were here.
You better learn to handle these men, Ruby Torvald, or you will be run right out of town. Or they’ll run your hotel into the ground, whichever comes first
.

He stepped through the door, and her breath caught in her throat. Their hero from on the train. The cowboy who took all the bluster out of the man who’d been so angry at Opal. Took it out so much that the drummer didn’t even look their way when he left the train.

She felt Opal’s hand seek a home in hers.

“Ruby, it’s him,” she whispered.

“I know.” Ruby stepped forward, a smile in place.
“A soft answer turneth away wrath. A soft answer turneth away wrath.”

“Good afternoon, sir. How may I be of help to you?”

“Who in blazes are you?” He looked her up and down, then obviously dismissed her as being of no account. “Where’s Belle?”

“One question at a time, please.” Ruby clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt. The nerve of the man. “I am the new owner of Dove House. Per Torvald was my father.”

He narrowed his eyes, studied her first, and then glanced at Opal beside her. “I’ve seen you before—I know, on the train.” His jaw clamped. “What are you doing in a place like this?”

A soft answer . . .
“As I said, I am now the proprietor of Dove House, and we are closed for several more days while I—we put things in order.”

“My men came to town for their normal—” He clipped off his words and belatedly removed his flat-brimmed hat.

“When we reopen, we will serve three meals a day, have rooms to let, and there will be card playing in the west salon.”

“Salon? Lady, this is Little Missouri. We don’t have salons here, only saloons, where the liquor flows, and in Dove House the—” He stopped and glared at her. “How come you have your little sister in a place like this?”

“I assure you, Mister. . . ?” She waited for him to answer.

“Rand Harrison of the Double H.”

“Double H?”

“A ranch southwest of town. Now see here, Miss Torvald, Dove House has been a good clean place for my men to come and let off steam. They come home in a good frame of mind and ready to work again. I can’t say what’s going to happen next payday if they get riled and—”

“Are you threatening me, Mister Harrison?” Ruby kept her voice at a tone that might have said, “would you like a cup of tea?”

“Where did you say Belle went?”

“I don’t know. She no longer works here.”

“Works here? She was half owner.”

“Not really.”
She just acted like it
.

“What about Cimarron and Jasmine?”

“They’ll be serving food in our dining room.” She put the emphasis on food.

“Food?” His dark eyes narrowed again.

Her attention was drawn to that line that bisected his forehead, leaving white to his hairline and suntan to his shirt collar. Even after winter the line was still there.

“I’m sure your men would like a real meal. I invite you to bring your wife to supper here. She might enjoy not cooking for all of your men.”

“We have a first-rate cook out at the ranch, so you can forget about any customers from the Double H.” He slapped his hat against his thigh, settled it back on his head, and spun on his heel to head back out the door.

“Good day, Mr. Harrison.”

The slamming door was her answer.

Her knees, softening like jelly in the sun, forced her down on a chair at the table. Her heart felt as if it would leap clear out of her chest.

“Water, please?” How the words got past the rock in her throat she had no idea.

Opal took a cup to the bucket, used the dipper to fill it, and set it next to Ruby’s hand.

“He was so nice on the train.”

“I know. Shows he does have manners when he wants to use them.” She swallowed half the cup at a gulp, wiping off the bit that dribbled on her chin.

He was better looking than she had remembered.

Rand Harrison glared one more time at the sign that barred the front door. Closed! Whatever convinced a young woman like her that she could run Dove House? And not only run it, but change it completely around? He would bet his last dollar that, when he saw her on the train, she’d not had any idea what went on in a place like Dove House. Dove House, home for soiled doves and the comfort they provided for lonely single men, men like most cowboys on the western range and the military and railroad men. Hadn’t someone explained it to her? He swung aboard his horse and reined him around to head down the street. Now, where would Belle be holing up? Perhaps she planned on starting another place of her own. But where?

He tipped his hat to Mrs. McGeeney as he rode alongside her boardinghouse. “Good day, ma’am.”

Hair bound under a kerchief, she looked up from sweeping her front porch. “Howdy-do, Mr. Harrison. You wanting something to eat?”

“Not right now, but thank you. I may be back later.” He crossed his arms on his saddle horn. “Can you catch me up on what’s gone on around here?”

She left her broom leaning against the wall and came closer. “You know that Per Torvald died? Buried him several days ago.”

“I do now. I would have come to the funeral had I known. He was a good man.”

Mrs. McGeeney rolled her eyes. “If you’re meaning he weren’t violent, you’d be right, but the goings on over to that place . . .” She shook her head, setting her third chin to wobbling.

“Leastwise, there weren’t too many shootings there, and the cards were dealt straight. Charlie keeps things pretty much under control.”

“You heard about the new owner? Torvald’s daughter? Now what kind of man would bring his daughter into a situation like that, unless of course, she’s one of them.” Mrs. McGeeney dropped her voice on the last word as if afraid to soil her lips.

Rand Harrison looked over his shoulder to the three-storied Dove House and back at the pug hound woman near the shoulder of his horse. “Oh, I think a real lady has come to town, and we’re all goin’ to pay the piper.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good day.” His horse twitched his tail and moved forward at the touch of the spurs.

His thoughts returned to the encounter in the kitchen of Dove House.
Spunky little thing
. But then he’d noticed that on the train too. Just never in a million lifetimes had he thought to see her again—and least of all at Dove House.
Have to admire her— for doin’ what’s right—but I’m gonna have my hands full keepin’ the men in line
.

At each of the next places he asked if anyone had seen Belle. She’d been to Johnny Nelson’s store but had gone on. No, he hadn’t noticed where. There weren’t that many places in town. The cantonment? Perhaps McHenry knew where she was.

He found her at Bill Williams’ dingy saloon, sitting with Jake Maunders, one of the first unsavory characters to settle in town. She was having a drink and looking like she owned the world. That was Belle all right.

“Howdy, Bill. Maunders.”

He joined her at the table, setting his hat down first. “I’ll have a cup of coffee, Bill.”

“Coffee?”

“Unless you got some good stuff?”

“I do. Bought it off Charlie this morning. Got a good deal on it too, but only going to offer it to my best customers.” Williams’ long teeth glinted through his bushy red beard, giving him the appearance of a fox with a swollen nose.

“What was Charlie doing peddling whiskey?”

“You want some or not?”

“Yeah, I do. Now you didn’t go mixing it with that rotgut you usually serve, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” Bill Williams looked aggrieved, as if Harrison had hurt his feelings doubting him like that. Aggrieved was a look he did well. “That’ll be fifty cents.”

“Fifty cents?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Only place in town you can get it now.” He held out a hand that had needed a good scrubbing for as long as Rand could remember.

“So now you know.” Belle tapped Rand on the arm with her closed fan. “Just give us a couple of months, and that high-and-mighty girl will be hightailing it east again, back to where life is easy. Maybe only weeks.”

“So what are you going to do in the meantime?” He glanced around the long narrow room with its unpainted walls darkened by smoke. “No piano here. Can’t be room for more than one card table. And no upstairs. Besides, Belle, you ain’t been a workin’ girl for all the years I’ve known you.”

Belle blinked several times and looked toward the low ceiling. “Might as well’ve been married to that man. Never thought Per’s going would leave such a hole.” She sniffed. “My land, but we had good times before he went and took sick.”

“The two of you sounded real good singing together. Like the shows I’ve seen sometimes in the big cities.”

“He had the voice and the smile of an angel. Never could tell him no when he got to really wanting something.” Her jaw tightened. “And then he up and deeded our place to them two girls of his. Guess he had an attack of conscience or something. Rand, Dove House was supposed to be mine.”

“So what are you going to do?” He took a swallow of his drink and nodded to Williams, who’d gone behind the bar.

“I thought to bring the girls along and open up a place of my own, but there’s nowhere in town to do such. I ain’t going back to living and working out of a tent. Did that back when I was younger, and I ain’t goin’ to do it again.” She took out a slim cigarillo and set it into a holder.

“Hey, Bill, the lady needs a light.”

“Be right there.” In a minute or so the man brought a spill from the kitchen and lighted the cigarillo.

Belle drew in a deep breath and released the smoke in a thin stream, her eyes slitted like a contented cat’s. “That fool girl has no sense what is needed here. We was doing just fine, even after Per took sick. Went on with business as usual. Even if she just came and left things alone, she’d a had a good living. And the rest of us too.” She knocked the ashes of her cigarillo off onto the floor. “What are our regulars going to do?”

“They can gamble here.” Williams brought the bottle over, but Rand waved it away.

Yeah, so you and your reprobate partner, Hogue, can cheat ’em clean to their teeth
.

“I got to get back to work.” Rand rose and pushed his chair back in to the table. “Let me know what you decide, Belle. If’n it were me, I’d lay low and play the waitin’ game.”

“Easy for you to say. What am I supposed to do? Pay for my room and board there?”

“That’s not a bad idea, you know.”

“If you was the southern gentleman you claim to be, you’d invite me out to your ranch to stay.”

“My ranch, as you so grandly put it, is a two-room log cabin, and I know you wouldn’t want to bunk with the boys.”

“Teach ’em some manners, maybe?” The glint in her eyes told him she was teasing.

Rand touched a finger to his forehead and headed out the door, settling his hat on his head as he went. Change was coming to the Little Muddy, and a certain young blond woman was at the heart of it, whether she wanted to be or not.

Grass is comin’ up so fast, you can watch it grow,
he thought as he rode out along the river toward the Double H. He glanced up as an eagle’s scree echoed from high above where the big bird lazily drifted on the winds. Spring was coming to Dakota Territory, and no other place on earth equaled it, least not the places he’d been. Spring in Missouri held a place in his heart, but the violence of a Dakota winter made warm breezes and sprouting grass and wild flowers even more appreciated. And the amazing thing was it could change overnight. Go to sleep with the north wind trying to freeze your nose off and wake to the icicles dripping off the roof and the chinook wind inviting you to leave your coat behind.

Restless and unable to settle at home in Missouri after the destruction of the war, Rand had followed what he heard about the abundant grass for hay and cattle in the last frontier. Range land, wild and free, and a place to start over with no laws to speak of and no one inquiring into your past was just what he had been looking for. Though he was fairly certain some of his men had plenty to be hiding from in their past, he had nothing to hide.

Unless, of course, someone reminded him of Isabelle. The eagle cried again, a primal sound that, like the bugling of a bull elk, ate its way into a man’s heart and soul to take up permanent residence, unlike those of the female gender who promised and left.

He stopped at a slow shallow pool to let his horse drink and stared off across the river to where a flock of Canada geese grazed on the sprouting grass, the honking of the guard goose letting the others know there was danger in the area. Shame they weren’t on his side of the river, where he could bag a couple for supper. Something other than venison and rabbit would be a welcome change.