Ruby (7 page)

“Minister? Funeral?” Charlie’s eyebrows joined the twitching of mustaches.

“We are going to bury my father, are we not?”

“Ah yes. I’ll get someone to dig the hole over in the graveyard. Then whoever wants can say some words over him. That’s about all we do out here. And put some big stones on top so the wild critters don’t drag ’im off.”

Ruby schooled her face to keep from the grimacing and shuddering that threatened to overcome her. “There is no man of God to . . . to conduct a proper burial, then?”

“No. Sorry. We do the best we can.” Charlie wiped his hands on the dish towel he had tied around his middle, untied it, and tossed the stained article on the back of a chair.

“I’ll be back.” He took his bowler hat off the peg on the wall by the door. “Oh, and I would stay out of Belle’s way for a while.”

Ruby didn’t bother to ask why, certain she really didn’t want to know the answer.

The more copious Belle’s tears as they laid Per in his grave, wrapped only in a blanket, no box having been made, the drier Ruby’s eyes grew. Opal clutched her hand, bonding herself to her sister’s side.

Other than those from Dove House, only men joined with the mourners. One of them was the grave digger, who leaned on his shovel handle and waited for them to leave so he could finish his job. Others wore the blue uniforms of the U.S. Army, one in full dress, including shiny gold buttons and a saber at his side. Some men looked as if they’d been dragged through a dirt bank.

Charlie took off his hat. “Per Torvald was a good man, he took care of his own and reached out a helping hand to those around him.”

Took care of his own?
Ruby kept her eyes straight forward.
What about us?
Across the mound of dirt rose a hill striped in the wildest colors she’d ever seen, most of which she would not normally apply to dirt or rock. Tan, dark brown, gray, purple, and a shading from orange to red that usually one saw only in a sunset. The cliff rose straight up as if someone had carved it out with a gigantic cake knife. Rocks at the bottom attested to continual change, unless they had been there for millennia. What kind of world had they come to? The train trestle stretched back across the river, a sign that man had indeed arrived and put his stamp on the land. Ruby planned to put that trestle to use as soon as possible, heading east.

“You got anything you want to say, miss?” Charlie’s voice cut into her reverie.

“Ah no, I don’t think so.” She bit down on her quivering lower lip, almost losing her control when she heard Opal sniff and whimper.

“Belle?”

Belle removed her soaked handkerchief only long enough to shake her head.

“I do.” An army officer stepped forward, his voice as commanding as his uniform. “Per Torvald was a good friend. His building of Dove House has been good for the town. He had a friendly smile for everyone, and if someone was in need, Per would be the first to offer assistance. We will miss him. Rest in peace, my friend.”

“Anyone else?” With no other volunteers, Charlie nodded to the man with the shovel, shepherded the women in front of him, and headed back toward Dove House.

“Whether they came to the buryin’ or not, they’ll show up for the wake,” Charlie offered.

“The wake?” They used so many terms that she did not understand.

“We’ll be servin’ drinks on the house.”

“Why?”

“In honor of Per Torvald. As you heard, he has friends here.” Ruby glanced down to see Opal’s chin quivering. Knowing how her little sister hated to have anyone see her cry, Ruby picked up the pace, and instead of going in the front door like the others, she took Opal around to the back. Once they were in their room, she held her little sister until her sobs subsided.

“H-how c-come we finally get to meet our f-father, and he goes and d-d-dies?”

“I wish I knew, dear one. I wish I knew.” Ruby stroked the damp hair back from Opal’s face. “But I’m glad you were able to meet him and talk with him. Now when I tell you stories of life when I was a little girl, you will know whom I am talking about.”
Lord, I hope she doesn’t always remember that skeleton in the bed. Our father was so handsome when he was younger and in good health
.

“What are we going to do?” Opal asked when she finally quit crying.

“Go down to the kitchen and prepare us some dinner, I expect.” Ruby went to the window and stood overlooking what could barely be called a street. At least the dirt track between the scattered buildings had none of the silver gray bushes that covered the rest of the land. Every once in a while men would ride up, get off their horses, and enter the saloon. Mostly they wore flat-brimmed hats and leather gloves. Some wore long coats open halfway up the back so it would split when they sat on their horses.

A faint sun tried to scare off the clouds, but the wind that kicked up just moved more in. The wind sneaked in around the ill-fitting window frame, causing Ruby to cup her elbows in her hand and wish for a shawl. Mostly she wished for the newly leafed out trees that bordered the streets of New York, the wagons, buggies, and carriages that clattered by on the cobblestones, the huge houses set back from those streets and fronted by green grass and bulbs already blooming through the neatly tended soil. She would take the children to the park to swing or watch a ball game. She closed her eyes to remember better times, and when she opened them, she nearly cried.

Now then,
she ordered herself,
there will be no more weeping here.You will learn what your inheritance is, take it, and be gone. You will be back in New York before the month is out. So think how Mrs. Brandon would act and do the same
.

Opal came to stand beside her. “Everyone has a horse here.” She looked up at her sister. “I sure hope there is a horse here for me.”

“Opal, we can’t stay. As soon as I find out what our inheritance is, we are taking the next train east.”

“Oh.” Opal sighed a huge sigh that took in her entire body. She stared at the floor, her brows knit in thought, her chin starting to jut out. But when she looked up at Ruby, a smile sent the jaw back and unknit the brows. “Maybe I can ride a horse while we are here. I’m going to ask Mr. Charlie.” The door slammed behind her before Ruby could do more than stutter.

“His name is Mr. Higgins!” Ruby called after her. Hand on the knob, she stopped, took a deep breath, thought of Mrs. Brandon and, chin lifted, back straight, soft smile in place, opened, passed through, and closed the door gently behind her. When she reached the end of the hall, she turned left toward the back staircase, since the loud music, laughter, and clinking of glasses told the tale of what was happening at the wake in the saloon below her. Smoke drifted up the stairs.

“Hey, little girl, what you doin’ on these stairs?”

Opal
. She’d not gone down to the kitchen after all. Ruby whirled around in time to see one of the women she’d seen at the graveyard coming up the stairs, a man right behind her.

“I was . . .” Opal had no time to finish her comment before she was snatched by the shoulder of her pinafore and almost dragged up the three stairs.

“Opal Marie Torvald, you come with me
now
.” Ruby hissed the words, kept her eyes from those of the other woman, and hustled her sister toward the backstairs.

“But, Ruby, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“You were to go to the kitchen.”

“But—”

“And we are going to the kitchen now, and you will not look down into that den of—that room again. That is no place for women.”

“But Belle and the others are there, and—”

“March.” Ruby clamped her lips together and placed her hand on Opal’s shoulder.

They’d just finished eating their meat and cheese sandwiches when the door swung open and Charlie stepped inside.

“I’m hating to bother you, miss, but did your father give you an envelope?”

Ruby finished chewing the food in her mouth before replying, “Yes, why?”
Actually, he gave me two
. “Belle gave it to me.”

“Well, you remember you said you saw Belle tearing the bedroom apart and seemed to be looking for something?”

“Yes.”

“Well, perhaps it was another envelope. You read Per’s letter she gave you yet?”

“No. But it is here in my pocket.”

“Ah, good. I think you better read it and do whatever it says before you go to sleep tonight.”

“But—”

“Miss, we ain’t got no law here in Little Missouri, but we try to do what is right. At least some of us. So, please, listen to what I say and—”

“You are saying Belle would—”

He held up a hand. “I didn’t say nothing, you understand. But please . . .”

Ruby nodded. “I will. You want to come back in a bit and—”

“No. Just do what it says.”

Ruby and Opal exchanged confused glances after Charlie slipped out as quietly as he slipped in.

Ruby felt the crackle of paper from both envelopes in her pocket. Whatever could be so important as to cause consternation like this? And no law officers? What kind of man had their father been to have brought them to a land so wild? Whatever had he been thinking?

CHAPTER EIGHT

My dearest Treasures,

If you are reading this, either you made it to Little Missouri before I died and I gave it to you, or Belle lived up to her word and mailed it. Knowing Belle as I do makes me seriously doubt it was the latter. I couldn’t wait any longer to write this, as my strength has been fading each day. Forgive me that my handwriting looks like that of an old man. Each day I feel older, and the pain is no longer tolerable, so I take the morphine when I can no longer stand the pain without screaming. But then I sleep all the time. Nothing kills that which is eating at me.

I know you must be shocked at what you found here, but Dove House is a thriving business. There are always military men, railroad men, and cattlemen who appreciate a good drink and an evening’s entertainment. We don’t serve rotgut like Williams does up the street. I heard he uses old cigar butts, sulphuric acid, and firewater. Amazing the men don’t die from it.

I know this isn’t the kind of business a young woman of your sensibilities should be running, Ruby, but short of selling out and sending you the money, there was nothing left for me to do. I plumb ran out of time.

The second sheet is the deed to this place, made out to you and signed by me while folks could still read my signature. More folks will be moving west, and these rich bottom lands will become settled. Dove House is well built and will make a fine hotel.

I do ask, though, that you take care of the girls. Belle will most likely try to take this from you. That is why I have transferred this title legally. But the other girls need a break. Life hasn’t been kind to them.

Charlie will be a big help to you, a kinder man I’ve yet to meet. There are some scoundrels here in town but also some fine men and a few women.

I had hoped to leave Dove House to you free and clear, but there are some accounts that need to be settled. The business ledgers are in my room. Charlie has what cash we take in, and there is an emergency stash taped to the back of the second drawer in the tall chest and, of course, what is in the box. Charlie will explain how we run the business here.

God bless you both, my dear daughters. I know I don’t deserve it, but thanks to Jesus I am going home soon to see my beloved Signe.

Your Far,
Per Torvald

Ruby wiped her eyes with the edge of her apron. If only she had taken the time to read this while he was still alive.

“Is it bad?” Opal stared at her sister with sorrow-filled eyes.

“No, really it is very good. Far has deeded Dove House to us.”

“So we will stay here?”

“Until we sell Dove House.”

“Who will buy it?”

“I don’t know.” Ruby read the letter again.
Take care of the girls
. He’d extracted that promise from her before he died. Why would she have to take care of the girls, and what had happened in their lives that made him request that of her? After returning the slim envelope to her pocket, she removed the other—it was Far’s last will and testament. She sucked in a gasp and quickly put it back in her pocket. Where would she keep it?

Feeling she had more questions than answers, she washed up their few dishes and set the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea. Thanks to Mrs. Klaus’s provision she could at least enjoy a good cup of tea. But maybe there was tea in the storeroom. Did people drink tea out here in the West?

With her cup in hand, she and Opal made their way back to the room they’d first entered upon their arrival at the hotel. Raucous laughter and the song of a hard-used piano played a backdrop all the time, sometimes swelling louder, then almost quiet but never silent.

They set a kerosene lamp on a table in the middle of the room and, starting in the right-hand corner, set to exploring. They found whiskey, sugar, flour, other staples, more bottles with corks, a box of glasses, one of candles, two broken-down chairs, and boxes that she didn’t take time to look in.

Opal dusted off her hands. “Dirty, that’s for sure. Mrs. Brandon would make us all help clean this place like she did the attic, but I still don’t think cleaning up a mess builds character.”

“Be that as it may, we will be cleaning so we know what is here and what we need. Come on. Right now we need to look upstairs.” Together they mounted the backstairs, and when Opal glanced with longing at the other stairs that led down to the saloon, Ruby steered her on around the corner and down the hall.

The door to her father’s room was closed, so she tapped on it before entering.

“What a mess.” Opal stared around the room. “Doesn’t she know how to put her things away?”

“I think Belle was distraught.” Ruby remembered the look on her father’s face when her mother died, like the life had gone right out of him. But then, as Mrs. Brandon once said, grief attacks some folks differently than others.

“Let’s try to be real nice to Belle, help her through her grieving.”

“I guess.” Opal fingered an ostrich feather that curved over the center of the three-paneled screen. “I don’t think Belle likes us much.”

Ruby pulled out the second drawer of the tall chest drawer and felt under it. Nothing. But when she pulled the drawer all the way out and felt behind it, sure enough, there was another envelope there. She quickly pulled it loose and stuck it in her pocket, ever mindful that Belle could come in any minute. She quickly looked around to determine where the ledgers might be stored. No matter that this was her father’s room, she felt like a sneaky thief. Should she take her father’s things out of the room? No, that was a wife’s duty. Wasn’t it?
Should I be kind and clean up the mess?
She sighed.

Yes, they should be kind. After all, Belle had taken care of their father. But she was Per’s wife, wasn’t she? So of course she should have taken care of him.

The thoughts dove and zipped around her mind like bees on the attack.

Far as she knew, Belle had not slept in here since Per’s death. So . . .

“Help me fold these things and put them away. Then we’ll scrub the bed and remake it if Milly has the laundry done.”

“I saw her take stuff out back where there’s a big pot on a fire. You think we have to wash our clothes that way?” Opal stroked the underthings she was folding. “These sure feel pretty.”

“Humph. You hang up the dresses, and I’ll do that. Put them in that armoire.”

“But Papa’s clothes are in here. How come they have such fancy clothes?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Ruby lifted a pile of drawers, camisoles, and petticoats off the top of the screens. Who’d ever heard of unmentionables being black silk? With so much lace they had a life of their own. And that life did not want to be imprisoned in the remaining drawer space. She smashed the rioting masses down and slammed the drawer.

“There aren’t enough hangers.”

“Then put the remainder on hooks.” Ruby stared around the room, looking for a row of pegs or hooks along the walls. “There must be some in the armoire.”

“I can’t even see in there.”

Ruby made a sound of disgust or frustration, the two emotions being so intertwined it was hard to tell the difference, and joined her little sister in front of the carved walnut doors that hung wide open and looked to never making it closed.

“See?”

Ruby huffed a sigh. “You sure Far’s clothes are in there?”

“In the back.”

“If we push them in, they’ll be all wrinkled.” Visions of the closet space at the Brandons’ shot her with a pang of homesickness. She fingered a wine watered-silk dress and frowned at the stains along the hem and the lace at the sleeve hanging loose. Belle might have beautiful things, but they wouldn’t last long without better care.

“What won’t fit in there we will leave draped over the screen. At least things look tidier.” Her gaze kept returning to the bed where her father had drawn his last breath. How long had he been bedridden? She followed an urge to draw back the velvet drapes and open the windows. This room needed a good airing. The rugs begged for a beating and the floor a scrubbing. Near as she could tell, the entire place needed housecleaning from top to bottom. Who would do that?

Milly, the chambermaid, looked to have her hands full already. Ruby stared down at her own, fingers spread. Capable hands, she had always called them, with fingers squared off, palms broad, not lovely and tapered like her mother’s, but with a notable lack of calluses.

“Aren’t we done now?”

“I guess so.” They made for the doorway only to meet Belle coming in.

“What are you doing in my room?” Belle, hands on hips, arms akimbo, took up the doorway.

“Cleaning it up some, looking for the ledgers Father said were here.” She laid a hand on Opal’s shoulder to keep her quiet.

“How do you know—” Belle cut off her sentence. She took a step forward, her eyes slitting. “I’m telling you only once, stay out of my things.”

“We were only trying to—”

Ruby tightened the hand on her sister’s shoulder, cutting off her words. “If you will tell me then where the ledgers are.”

“Don’t know. Suppose Charlie has ’em.”

“I see.”

“How’d you know about the ledgers?”

“My father’s letter.”

“Oh.” Belle slumped slightly, then gathered herself for the attack. “You two better be thinkin’ on leavin’ soon. After all, this is my place now, and I got no truck for freeloaders.”

“But, Ruby. . . .” Opal stopped at the look on her sister’s face and the pinch at her shoulder.

Ruby wanted to duck and run. But instead she pulled herself up by sheer will. “I will read my Father’s final letter to everyone this evening.”

“No way can we close the doors this evening, nor any evening. Men around here expect Dove House to be open for business, and open it will be.”

“Surely they can go without drinking for one night.”

“Honey, it ain’t only the drinkin’ that pays the bills here.”

“But there are no meals—”

“ ’Course not. We got the best doves in the county. That’s what brings the men in.”

“Doves?”

“You know, us workin’ girls. You’re welcome to join us.” Belle’s laugh hooted her derision. “Dress you up in some color, you might not look too bad.” She reached over and fingered Ruby’s cream waist with leg of mutton sleeves. “Not this drab—”

Ruby jerked back as if stung by a wasp. “I’ve been working all my life, or most of it, and . . .”

She slowed to a stop when Belle burst out laughing as if she’d just heard the funniest joke of her life. She waved to a man coming out of the room across the hall.

If Ruby remembered right, that was the room belonging to Cimarron, the redhead. Whatever was he doing in her room?

“See here, Slade, these two youngsters are Per’s daughters. You think the older there could be a workin’ gal?”

He finished tucking his shirt into his pants as he studied Ruby.

Ruby wanted to clap her hands over Opal’s ears and eyes and hustle them both from his scrutiny. She’d read once how men inspected the slaves in the south before they bought one. Right now she was sure she knew how they felt.

“Ah, Belle, honey, she most likely could if’n you took her under your wing and made a real woman out of her.” He dodged the elbow Belle aimed at his ribs and ambled on down the hall, his laughter floating over his shoulder.

“We shall discuss this later.” Ruby glanced down at Opal, who had yet to close her mouth, and back to Belle, hoping her sister got the message.

“Anytime, honey. Anytime.”

Why did the glint in Belle’s eyes make her doubt the sweetness of her words? Honey. Cloying sweetness but made by bees with a real sting. What had her father said about Belle’s principles?

“I better get on back to work. Someone needs to start dealing down there before a fight breaks out. Hard collecting for the broke-up tables and chairs and such when a brawl cuts loose.”

Ruby snapped her mouth closed. “They have brawls in Dove House? Down there?” Ruby clamped her hands on Opal’s shoulder. “Excuse us, please.” She’d mind her manners no matter what.

“Of course.” Belle stepped aside to let them pass and chuckled as she entered her room.

“What was she talking about, Ruby?” Opal plopped down on the edge of their bed. “I really don’t think she likes us at all.” She rubbed her chin with one finger, a motion Ruby remembered their father doing. “But then, I don’t think I like her much either. Charlie is nice and so is Cimarron.”

“How do you know that?”

Opal shrugged.

“Opal . . .”

A crash sent them both running to the window to see a man take a header from the porch of Dove House and out into the street. He lay in the muddy ruts for what seemed like forever.

“You think he’s dead?”

The young girl headed for the door. Ruby missed Opal’s shoulder, but caught her pinafore. “No, Opal, you may not go down and check his mustache. Stay right here.”

“But, Ruby, I . . .” Opal’s lower lip stuck out, but she returned to watch at the window, arms locked across her chest.

Ruby fought to keep herself from charging down the stairs. Far as she could see, there was no blood, and she’d not heard a gunshot. “Oh, Lord above, I hope not.” She felt her heart hammering in her throat.

The man finally pushed himself to his knees and staggered to his feet, swaying as if the ground shook beneath him.

“He looks hurt bad.”

Or drunk
. Ruby couldn’t remember ever seeing a person sway like that unless they were terribly sick. Vomiting did that to one or a bad case of
la grippe
. Or getting hit on the head real hard. Did any of those things apply to the man below?