Ruby (6 page)

She brought it back to the bed, only to find him sound asleep with Opal curled up like a kitten at his side, sleeping like the innocent she was, her father’s hand still resting on her head.

Ruby leaned over to kiss his forehead, something he used to do for her every night when he’d been home to tuck her into bed. His eyes fluttered open.

“Take . . . care . . . of . . . the . . . girls.” He grasped her hand.

“I always do.”
Who does he think has been taking care of Opal all these years, and I learned early how to take care of myself
.

“The girls, take care of the girls.” He strained to add emphasis to his words.

“Yes, Far, you rest now, and we’ll talk again in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. I . . . I . . .” He looked directly into her eyes, as if searching her soul. “I love you, datter.”

“I know and I love you.”

“For . . . give . . . me.” The words were barely discernable, as if he’d used his last ounce of will. He mumbled something that she leaned closer to hear. “
Buksbom
. See . . . the . . . buksbom treasures.”

“Yes, I forgive you.” But she wasn’t sure if he heard her or not, for a slight snore puffed his lips. And had she heard right? Buksbom. What did that mean? She thought hard for a moment. Oh, that was the word for box. Box? What box, and what treasures?

She sat in the chair she brought over from the desk and watched them both sleep, fighting the weariness that descended upon her, weighting her down in the chair as if her bones had turned to mush. As she felt her eyes close, she heard the tapping of high-heeled shoes in the hall, and Belle entered the room.

“How is he?”

“Sleeping again.” She watched as Belle laid the back of her hand along his cheek, then adjusted the sheet, smoothing it across the once broad chest. “Did he talk with you?”

“Yes, although strained.”

“Good. He wanted to.” Belle turned. “If you bring your sister, I will show you to your room. Do you have any more baggage than that?”

“A trunk and boxes down at the train stop.” Ruby pushed herself to her feet, not sure for a moment if she would make it.

“I’ll send Charlie down for them first thing in the morning.” Belle picked up the two valises. “Come along.”

Guiding Opal with one hand and carrying the remainder of their things with the other, Ruby followed Belle down a hall that seemed to lengthen as they walked. Would they never reach the end?

“Here, this one is yours. You better not go wandering around in the night. There’s a pot under the bed.”

“Where is the bathroom?”

Belle snorted. “The outhouse is out back. We haul in a tub for bathing. Anything else?”

Pot? Outhouse? Ruby’s mind refused to function. “You will call me if my father needs me?”

Belle planted her hands on well padded hips. “Look, I been taking care of him for months now. I can make do another night.”

“Oh. Of course.” Ruby rubbed her forehead with weak fingers, too tired to argue. “Thank you, then, and good night.”

Belle left with a nod that seemed curt rather than courteous.

Ruby turned to find Opal flopped on the bed. She pulled a nightdress out of the valise and, after undressing her sister, settled the garment over her head. Folding back the cover, she rolled Opal over to the side and tucked her in.

Once in her own nightclothes Ruby belted her wrapper and crossed to the draped window. While this room was sparsely furnished compared to her father’s, the drapes kept out the cold. She parted them to look outside into total blackness. It was never this dark in New York City, where gaslights lined the streets, and even with a foot of snow on the ground, the streets of New York were never this silent. The only sound she heard came from the saloon downstairs, and even that was muted. Dark, quiet, what else had she to learn of Dakota Territory? She cupped her hand around the glass chimney on the lamp and blew out the flame. The acrid smell of smoke followed her as she climbed into bed and snuggled under the quilt. Sleep overtook her before she had time to adjust the pillow or say her nightly prayers.

Something pulled her awake from a deep sleep. Had someone called her name? It seemed so. But Opal breathed the gentle sleep of a child. She had not called.

A cry rent the night air. Ruby threw back the covers, snatched her wrapper, and headed for the door, stumbling in the blackness.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“My father! Is it my father?” Ruby met a strange young woman in the hall.

“I’m ’feared so. ’Twas Belle what cried out.” The two rushed on down the hall, and Ruby entered the room first.

Belle knelt beside the bed, her head resting on Per’s hand as it lay at his side. He looked only as if he’d fallen asleep and was resting peacefully.

Belle’s sobs rocked her entire body. She reached with one hand to caress his cheek, then glanced up when she sensed Ruby beside her. “I . . . I didn’t get to tell him g-good-bye.” Black trails of kohl streaked her cheeks, and her hair hung in loops. The combs that had been holding it piled high on her head now dragged and drooped. She’d changed from her fancy dress to a wrapper, belted loosely over her corset and camisole.

Ruby ordered her attention away from the sobbing woman and onto her father. She didn’t need to listen for his breathing. She could tell he was gone by the immobile way he lay. Even when sleeping, he had been moving, an eye twitch, a hand restless on the quilt.

Ruby closed her eyes and thought back. One of the things that stood out in her memories of her father was his energy, a force of life that picked up those around him and swirled them along with him. Even as ill as he’d been earlier this evening, that force had caught her, both her and Opal, and had made her love him all over again.

And now he was gone.
Lord, will I see him again in heaven?
The thought snagged at her breath. Surely her father knew the Savior. Hadn’t he gone to church with them, nay,
taken
wife and daughter to worship on Sundays?

But if he believed, how could he have deserted us like he did?
She caught the change in her thinking. Rarely had she used the word deserted, instead she had made herself think of him as leaving them, but only for a time. She had told herself that any day he would come striding and laughing back into their lives. She’d hoped he’d come and make Opal love him as she once had, by tossing the little girl in the air, telling her stories about a tiny girl named Opal who could live in his pocket. A tiny playmate who loved secrets and giggles and who would sneak over into her pocket if she wanted.

Ruby almost checked her own pocket to see if that tiny Ruby of long ago still lived there.

Tears rained unchecked as she thought back, wishing for what might have been but now had no chance of becoming. Their tie with him had made her hope grow again.

But now all was lost.

She laid a hand on Belle’s shoulder. While she didn’t like her much, Ruby recognized grief and realized that Belle had loved Per.

How fortunate you were, Far, to be loved by three women, your two wives and me. Opal, too, would have loved you had she known you
.

Ruby turned to see two women, also in wrappers, and a man who looked to have risen from bed as a result of the crying. Perhaps he was the man she’d seen behind the counter in the saloon downstairs. Her quick glance at the premises when she followed Belle up the stairs seemed burned on the back of her mind. Had one of these women been playing the piano?

If the amount of tears was any indicator of the esteem these people had held for her father, he was deeply loved. But who would be in charge now? Was it her duty to take responsibility for getting her father buried? Surely, as his wife, that duty belonged to Belle. But grief affected some people so as to make them ineffective, like Per when his wife died. Was Belle like that? Somehow it didn’t seem to fit the picture she’d formed of Belle.

She glanced back to find the others staring at her, not at Belle, but at her. She wiped her eyes with the pads of her fingers and took in a deep breath.

Letting it out, she straightened neck and shoulders and began. “It seems to me that, since there is nothing to be done here tonight, we should all return to bed and see to things in the morning. I . . . I . . .” She rolled her eyes upward to stem a new onslaught of tears. “I thank you all on my father’s behalf for . . . for your friendship and . . .”
Did you all work for my father or were you his friends?
Who could she ask the many questions bubbling just below the surface of her mind?

The older of the two women came and put an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “You come and spend the night in my room, honey.”

Belle melted into her arms, and between the two of them, the women got her on her feet and out the door.

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief at the silence that grew as the others moved farther down the hall.

“What do you want I should do, miss?”

“I wish I knew. What is your name?”

“I’m Charlie, miss. Charlie Higgins. I tend bar and do whatever else needs doin’. Me and Per go back a long way.” He took a few steps closer to the bed. “He been holdin’ on just for you. Said he wanted to see his girls before he took the train to glory. Good thing you come when you did.”

“He’s been sick a long time.” Just looking at the skin-wrapped bones that had once been a vibrant man told her that.

“I knew he was ailin’ long before he told us.”

“I see.” While the thought of pumping this man for information since he seemed willing to talk was a strong one, her need for sleep won out. “Thank you for talking with me, but I’d best return to my room before Opal wakes up and becomes frightened in a strange place. I’m sure I will have many questions in the morning.”

“Yes, miss.” Charlie leaned over and pulled the sheet up over her father’s face. “Rest in peace, my friend.” His voice choked, and he turned away to blow his nose. Finished, he motioned for Ruby to precede him out of the room, blew out the lamp, and shut the door behind himself.

“Thank you again.” Ruby nodded and made her way down the hall. She could hear two women talking behind one door on the way down and assumed it to be Belle and . . . She shook her head. How rude not to have asked for their names, to have introduced herself. But then, they all knew who she and Opal were if Per had talked about them, as it seemed he had from her conversation with Mr. Higgins.

After nudging Opal over to her own side, Ruby climbed back in bed, certain that she would lie awake wondering about the group of people she’d met here at Dove House, about her father and the life he’d lived since he came west, about when she and Opal could return to New York and their life with the Brandons. Instead, she remembered no more of her prayer than “Please, God.”

She awoke with the same thought, but “Please, God,” what? And where was Opal? Throwing the covers back, Ruby dressed more quickly than she ever thought possible, bundled her hair into a snood, and rushed out the door.

The empty hall stretched dark but for the windows at either end. All the doors were closed, and she heard no sound. Surely others were up and about, not just Opal. Gray clouds obliterated the sun that surely must have been up for hours. It felt like midmorning. How had she ever slept so late?

As she drew closer to her father’s room, she could hear someone moving around in there, opening and closing cupboards and drawers. She knocked, waiting for a response, and when the noise didn’t abate, she pushed open the door. Belle, wrapper-clad and with hair flying every which way, was searching for something. Clothing dangled from half-open drawers, as if the searcher was in too much of a hurry to put everything back—or didn’t care.

Ruby cleared her throat. “May I help you?” She glanced over to see her father’s body lying where they’d left it.

Belle spun and took a step back, hand to her throat. “You ’bout scared the wits right outa me.”

“I’m sorry. I was looking for Opal and heard someone in here. I could help you look for whatever it is you are not finding.”

“What I’m looking for is none of your business.”

The snarl caught Ruby totally by surprise. “Pardon me.” She kept her voice even with effort. “I just thought to be helpful.”

“Best help you can do is get back on that train and head east to whatever life you lived before . . . before . . .” Belle glanced at the bed and dissolved into a sobbing, grief-stricken woman. She sank down into a chair, crushing the pile of petticoats that had been thrown there.

Ruby fought the tears brought on by seeing Belle’s. “I have to go find Opal.” She left the weeping woman and, resisting the urge to open every door along the hall, made her way down the stairs. Windows covered by thick drapes left a gloom broken only by slivers of light from around the curtains and from two open doorways. The saloon reeked of cigar smoke, spilled liquor, and cheap perfume. She wished for a handkerchief dipped in rose water to hold to her nose. The miasma hung thick enough to chew. She followed the light and a tinkle of sound down a painted hallway that opened into a kitchen where Charlie presided over a cast-iron stove that was providing both welcome warmth and the aroma of frying ham.

Ruby’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“Opal Marie Torvald, you scared me out of two years’ growth.” Ruby rounded on her little sister who was sitting at the table, spooning applesauce.

“But you were sound asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you. You looked terrible tired.” She smiled at the man who grinned back. “Charlie asked if I was hungry and I sure was and you say not to lie and so I didn’t and he said he would make me something to eat and so I came down here and. . .” She took a deep breath, and her smile grew beatific as she finished. “And you found me and so all is well.” She sucked the sauce off her spoon. “Charlie is a real good cook too.”

“Mr. Higgins. You call him Mr. Higgins.”

“But when I asked him his name, he said Charlie, that I was to call him Charlie and I like that, so I did.”

Ruby felt like taking a step back before the wall of words pummeled her.

“I did tell her that, Miss. No one ever calls me Mr. Higgins.” He hefted a cast-iron skillet. “You want some ham and eggs? They be ready in a jiffy. You could start with applesauce like Miss Opal there.”

Ruby sank down on a chair and nodded. “Yes, I’d love some breakfast. Is there something I can do to help you?”

“Help me? Why whatever for? Per, he would take a hunk outa my hide if I didn’t take good care of his darlin’ daughters.”

Ruby thought back to the conversation with this man the night before. He’d said he did whatever needed doing, and obviously at this time of the day, putting food on the table fell under his jurisdiction.

“Do you cook for the hotel guests also?”

“Hotel guests?” Confusion darkened his already deep brown eyes even further.

“You know, the people who stay here?”

“Oh, you mean the girls? They don’t usually want breakfast, you know. They pretty much sleep until noon. We don’t open again until about two. Then there’s Milly. She does the laundry. You got anything that needs washing, she’s out back.”

Take care of the girls
. Her father’s words echoed those of Charlie Higgins. Why did she feel as though she’d come in on the second act of a play and everyone else knew the lines but her?

“Here you go.” Charlie slid a slice of ham and two fried eggs onto the plate in front of her, then did the same for Opal. “Hot biscuits coming right up.” He returned to the stove, drew a pan of biscuits from the oven, brought it over, and set it on the battle-scarred pine tabletop. “There’s butter and jam here and honey in the jar there.” He pointed to a squat round jar filled with gold. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Coffee, please?” Right now her system needed a dose of something strong and hot.

“I’m sorry. Shoulda brought that first. Your father always wanted his coffee first too. Said it got the juices flowin’ in the morning. Not that he was an early riser either.”

Pleased on one hand that she had something in common with her father and sad on the other since he was no longer with them, Ruby laid a hand on Opal’s arm. “Did you say grace?”

Opal laid her fork back down. “No, sorry.”

“Well, just because we are living on the frontier now, doesn’t mean that we will change the things we know to be proper. Is that understood?”

“I guess.” Opal bowed her head. “Thank thee, Lord, for these gifts which we are about to receive, for food and strength to do thy will. Amen.” While hurried, the words could be understood if one listened with intense concentration.

Ruby glanced up to see a look of confusion on Charlie’s lined face. The light in his eyes and friendly smile beneath his brushy mustache made her feel she might have a friend in this world. And he had helped her during the night and was now treating young Opal like a princess. Who and what was this man?

“I’ll take care of the boss when we’re done here. The others most likely won’t be up yet.”

“Belle is. I saw her tearing the bedroom apart, looking for something, I presume.”

He stopped and turned, holding a pancake turner in the air. “How’d she seem?”

Ruby paused before answering. A strange question. She thought back to the scene in the bedroom where Belle had had no respect for the dead man and then torrents of grief. “Undone, I believe.” Snappy, she’d been, before the tears. But what would she know? How many people had she ever known who’d just lost someone they loved?

“Had they been married long?”

Charlie spun around. “Married? Who?”

“Why my father and Belle. I assumed—” She stopped at the look of consternation that made his mustache twitch. She glanced over at Opal who was taking in every nuance while eating healthy bites of eggs and ham.

“We will talk of this later.”

“Ah yes. Good idea. Can I get you more to eat?”

Ruby stared down at her half-finished plate, wondering where her appetite had suddenly disappeared to. She finished off a biscuit that now needed dunking in her coffee, its dryness making swallowing difficult. Or was it her throat that was dry? She drank several swallows to alleviate the distress. What was going on here? The saloon was bad enough, but undercurrents seemed far more dangerous than the serving of liquor and men playing cards. Why, Mr. Brandon had sometimes gone to his club for the same pleasures. Were things any different here on the frontier?

“Will you contact the minister then for the funeral?”