Ruby (4 page)

“And I am sure she would not approve of you accosting a lady with that noxious weed hanging out of your mouth.” The words could have set fire to the tip of said cigar had it been necessary.

With his cigar now clenched between two fingers of the hand also holding his hat, he started again, disgruntlement bristling from his walrus mustache and gray-shot beard. “That . . . that . . .”

“Child.”

“That child was . . . I was sound asleep, minding my own business—” He hawked and spat a glob on the floor— “when . . .”

Ruby closed her eyes, at the same moment putting a hand to her throat. “I am sure there are spittoons for such as that”—she shuddered—“oral excrement, and I demand that you use one. I can tolerate your crudity no longer. I will speak with my sister to ascertain her part in this.”

“You are dismissing me?” His voice skidded on gravel and cracked midword.

“Yes, she is.” A male voice, steely with menace, coming from the regions of the roof of the car whipped Ruby’s attention toward her left.

Her rude assailant turned as well. “Why . . . why, you . . . you are butting into business that is none of—”

“Anytime I see someone mistreat a lady, I make it my business.”

Ruby catalogued her would-be rescuer in a swift glance. Dark hair that swept back from a broad forehead bisected by a line dividing tan from white skin, eyes that flashed daggers or perhaps arrows. Nose, cheeks, and chin seemed carved in stone, and his mustache brushed the top of chiseled lips. Shoulders that reached from seat to seat filled out the black coat that hung open to reveal a gold watch fob dangling flat in the loop from pocket to pocket. If this was what she’d heard called cowboy, no wonder the Indians always lost.

He flicked a glance her way as if asking if she was all right, and she nodded in return.

“Thank you, sir, but I believe I am capable of handling this gen—” She started to say gentleman, but changed her mind since he in no wise resembled any of the gentlemen she had ever known and finished, “—ruffian.”

“As you say, miss.” But instead of leaving, he took a step forward, his gaze never leaving that of the loudmouth.

The offensive man took one step back, then another. “This ain’t over yet.”

“Oh, I think it is.” His voice kept an even beat, reminding Ruby of Mrs. Brandon when she was making a point with one of her children over a behavior that had been less than mannerly.

Ruby watched as the gentleman stalked the scoundrel with an easy grace that made her think of the cat she used to watch on the prowl for bird or mouse. At a sound from the other seat she glanced over to see Opal, eyes round as her mouth, watching the men.

“Is he a cowboy?” Opal whispered.

“Why do you ask?”

“Look at his boots.”

Ruby glanced toward the floor. Sure enough, he wore boots with heels and pointed toes, exactly as she’d seen in a magazine. She watched as the once-attacking man backed into his seat and sat. While she couldn’t hear what transpired between them in their brief exchange, she was grateful not to be on the receiving end. When the cowboy returned, she rose from where she had seated herself by Opal.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He nodded to her and then to Opal. “Much nicer for young girls in here than . . .”He nodded toward the car behind them, the one where the men played cards and smoke turned the air gray. Without another word, he strode on back.

Ruby chanced a peek around the seat back, then turned her attention to her sister, who shrank into the corner.

“I didn’t do anything bad.”

“Opal, I . . .” Ruby took a deep breath and sat back against the seat. “Just tell me what you did and why, and let me be the judge of that.”

“Well, I was sitting here minding my own business when I heard a lady up there”—she pointed toward the front of the car—“say that a man was dead.”

“Opal.”

“Well, something like that . . . So I went up to make sure he was still breathing. I was looking at him when his mustache moved, so I was sure he was all right, but then he woke up and . . .”

“And?” Ruby considered what her sister had said. “And how close were you to him when you saw his mustache move?”

Ruby closed her eyes to think better, create the picture in her mind. She could feel her own hands moving, two feet apart, eighteen inches? She opened her eyes as Opal held her hands about twelve inches apart, then cut the distance in half.

The inner picture made Ruby flinch. She rolled her eyes.
Lord preserve us
. “Wouldn’t you say that was a bit rude?”

“But what if he had been dead?” Opal threw her hands out wide and gave her sister a pleading look. “Or dying and no one paid any attention?”

Ruby leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Always an excuse came for which she had no answer. Opal had a heart of gold that always got her into trouble when she acted out her inherently good intentions. The thought of that man waking up to Opal peering into his face made Ruby smile, nay, nearly laugh out loud. What a shock that must have been. She peeked at Opal, who was watching her with all the intensity of one about to be shot for her transgressions.

Ruby tried to keep from laughing. She ordered her lips to narrow into rigid lines, but instead they turned up at the corners. She ordered the chuckles bubbling up to cease and desist, but instead they seeped out and floated around like iridescent soap bubbles. As the bubbles popped, the laughter invited more, and when Ruby, shaking her head, finally could keep from looking at Opal no longer, the two of them laughed together, hands over their mouths to stifle the hilarity.

“I really didn’t mean to offend him,” Opal finally said when they could catch their breath.

“I know. But Opal, dear sister, you must learn to think things through before you embark on them. I’m afraid that one of these days something serious will happen. Then what will we do?”

“I’ll try, Ruby, really I will.” Opal slid over in the seat to cuddle next to her sister’s side. The two rocked together for a time, Ruby with both arms around her charge and resting her cheek on Opal’s soft hair.

When Opal’s stomach announced it was past a meal time, they dug into the basket at their feet. Bread, cheese, and cookies were all that remained.

Ruby wished for a cup of coffee or tea, but she’d tried the sludge on the stove and found it totally unpalatable, even with the addition of water. Shame there wasn’t a teapot or a plain kettle to heat water to go along with the packet of tea Cook had provided.

As they settled down to sleep, Ruby thought ahead. What was waiting for them at the end of their journey? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if their loving care could bring their father back to health?

CHAPTER FOUR

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Brandon,

We are still on our train trip west, and I must thank you for your generosity. I could not believe my eyes when I counted the amount you included in my pay envelope, not only paper money but a gold piece too. I shall sew that into the lining of my coat so that it is safe for an emergency, as you suggested.

We have changed trains for the final time in St. Paul and are nearing Fargo. There is still snow on the ground in places. April here on the frontier is not as warm as April in New York. We have in fact seen snow flurries, although green grass is covering the land, land so flat that I’m sure God spread it out with a giant-sized rolling pin.

We had a bit of excitement a few minutes ago, and this time it was not of Opal’s doing. Two men got in a fight in the men’s car and came bursting through the door into our car, grunting and pounding on each other. One of the lady passengers in our car let out a shriek that jolted some sense into them, and they returned to the other car with arms over each other’s shoulders and laughing like they’d just shared the best joke. One was wiping blood from his nose and the other wiped a cut near his eye. I shall never understand the male of our species.

Ruby went on to describe Opal’s brush with the mustached sleeping man, all with the intent of entertaining her New York family who had provided for them so generously.

I cannot thank you enough for the years we enjoyed so safely and lovingly cocooned at the Brandon mansion. I will write more when we know more.

Your loving servant,
Ruby

PS: Opal too sends her love and wishes the children were here to play with. R.

The train left the station at Bismarck when the sun slipped behind the horizon, setting the clouds and sky on fire.

“Oh, look, Ruby, have you ever seen such colors?” Opal sat with her nose flattened against the windowpane so as not to miss a moment of God’s glorious display.

Ruby leaned as close as she could without encountering the coal-dusted glass. She dug out a cloth and wiped the window clean, then spit on the corner of the cloth and, clamping Opal’s chin in one hand, firmly scrubbed the black off Opal’s nose and chin with the other.

“I hate that,” Opal squeaked when finally freed.

“Then keep your face clean.” Ruby put the cloth back and watched the changing hues as more lavender and purple overlaid the flaming vermillion and orange.

“How I would love to have a dress just that pink on the second layer of clouds.” Opal’s wistful sigh tugged at Ruby’s heart. Her young sister wished for things so seldom that she tried to bring them about when it happened. Wishing for a dress of a certain color, now that was almost in the miracle category. How would she ever find lovely or even serviceable dress goods in this wasteland? As each turn of the wheels took them farther from New York, then Chicago, and finally St. Paul and Minneapolis, she felt that civilization as she knew it might never be seen again. Fargo had brick buildings, some of which surely housed sewing supplies, millinery, unmentionables, and boots for when Opal outgrew hers, which she was wont to do on a regular basis. But after leaving Fargo, not only were there no business establishments, she’d not seen the friendly roofline of house nor barn for more miles than she cared to speculate. Even the most glorious of sunsets could not begin to settle her unease. What in the world were they getting into? What had possessed her to leap to her father’s bidding without exploring the ramifications? What had possessed him to ask them to come to this barren land?

But he sent the tickets,
she consoled herself.
And he mentioned Dove House
. Even the name brought forth pictures in her mind of a more prestigious building than some of the hovels she’d seen along the way. Why some of the people out here lived in houses made of dirt—soddies, she’d heard them called. Someone else talked about dugouts, and when she asked what dugouts were, only through extreme strength of will could she keep from shuddering. A dugout was just that, a room-sized hole, if she understood right, dug into the side of a hill or a rise and faced with logs or bricks of sod. The speaker’s description of building a soddy or a dugout had been graphic indeed. Opal’s squeal in delight at no floors to polish had not elicited the same response from her sister. And when she learned what was used to create a hard surface on a dirt floor, she’d had to fight the gagging and had hurriedly retired to the necessary. The two women had been discussing the merits of blood and water over fresh cattle dung, called manure, also mixed with water and then made into a slurry with local clay if available, otherwise with local dirt, and then spread over a hard-packed surface.

Just the thought brought bile up from her stomach.

Surely Dove House had wooden floors and walls, at least. But by that time she was afraid to ask for any more details.

At least her cold was on the wane and she could sleep without feeling she was either drowning or smothering.

“Dickinson, next stop Dickinson,” the conductor called, stopping at their seat. “We’ll soon be crossing the river to Little Missouri. You positive someone will be waiting for you there? It’s mighty primitive.”

Ruby nodded. “Though my father is very ill, I am sure he will have someone there to meet us.”

“I certainly hope so, for there ain’t no real station there. Just a shack. We shoulda been there hours ago but for that herd of cows that didn’t care to move. Sometimes we get stopped by snowdrifts, but what’s coming down now won’t stick.” He peered out the window into a sea of black with white swirling dots hitting the glass pane. “I’d feel a whole lot easier if we knew for sure your telegram had gone through.”

“They said they would try again later.”
Please, Lord, let it be so
.

He straightened. “Sometimes something takes out a pole for the telegraph line, and then they have to go out looking for the problem afore they can repair it. Telegraph is mighty amazing, but give me a plain old handwritten letter any day.” He touched the hard bill of his hat and swayed on up the aisle. This conductor had joined the train in Fargo and been real generous in answering Ruby’s and Opal’s questions. He’d said that
all
children here in the West, what few there were, did not have horses but indeed some did.

Ruby still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t asked him about Dove House, but something kept her from doing so.

Opal leaned against Ruby’s shoulder. “Tell me another story of Papá.”

Ruby closed her eyes in thought, clicking through memories, sorting for a new one that was appropriate for young ears. She couldn’t tell Opal that their father was an accomplished gambler. She’d not learned that herself until one time they had to move rather quickly because he’d lost their house in a poker game. That little escapade had really made their mor cry. Mor never liked to play cards after that, not even whist. Through the years Ruby had regaled Opal with memories of their mother, but because Far had often been away from home—working or some such thing—she hadn’t as many memories of him.

“I remember when he brought me a kitten, a lovely soft gray-and-white kitten.” Ruby thought back to the rumbling purr that came from that tiny body. “I named her Misty, for she reminded me of the fog that came in, sneaking over rooftops and around corners.” They had lived in Baltimore then, before the final move to New York City. “She loved to play, batting at strings. Far brought me a leather string with a bit of fur to the end. Misty would play with that by the hour.”

“What happened to her?”

“She ran away after we moved in with Bestemor. I called and called, searched and searched, but she just disappeared. Bestemor thought sure someone else took her in, but . . .” Ruby’s shoulders lifted and dropped in a sigh.

“Perhaps Papá will give me a kitten, and I will share it with you.”

“Perhaps.” Ruby pointed under the seat. “Will you be a good girl and make sure we have left nothing under there?”

Opal did as asked and came up with only a paper wrapper, which she put in the trash container by the door.

“All right, you read your book, and I shall write in my journal. It won’t be long now.”

The train stopped and started again in Dickinson, leaving behind the warm lights of the station and buildings around it. She could hear the change in sound when they crossed the trestle and finally slowed to a stop.

“Little Missouri, miss. Here, let me help you with your things. Your trunk will be waiting for you on the ground.”

Ruby and Opal picked up their satchels, and with Ruby also carrying the now empty food basket, they followed the conductor to the exit and allowed him to assist them to the ground.

“There you go, miss, but I don’t see any wagon here to meet you.”

Another man came up with their trunk on a handcart and set it down beside them.

Ruby took several steps, still feeling as though she were on the swaying car. She put out a hand to the trunk to steady herself.

“It won’t take you long to get your land legs again.” The conductor reentered the train and brought out their final box to set on the trunk.

Ruby stared around. As he’d said, there was only a dark shack for a station building, but she could see lights not far off. However, there were no streetlights to lead the way and, as the conductor had feared, no one to meet them.

“I sure hate to leave you like this. Even snowing a bit. Just not right.”

“We’ll be fine, sir. As you said, the town isn’t large.”

“If you could call it a town. More like a settlement.”

The train whistled twice, calling the man back aboard. He took up his red lantern and, with one last worried “good-bye,” put the stool back up and mounted the train.

Ruby and Opal watched the train pull away, leaving them there all alone in the darkest night she had ever seen.

Snowflakes drifted down lazily, as if they couldn’t make up their minds whether to settle or scamper off.

Opal sneaked her hand into Ruby’s. “What are we going to do?”

I wish I knew, Lord. I wish I knew
.