After a while, the fiddler brought his warmup music to a close and conferred with Ruby’s father and Mr. Jepson who were standing close by. Mr. Jepson, the owner of the mercantile and post office, called the dances. He shook his head now, as though perplexed about something. Ruby’s father walked over to where Charlie helped at the food table, and spoke to him. Charlie took off out the front door in a sprint.
“Mr. Banks makes that fiddle sing,” Ruby said, sighing. Her toes tapped out part of the last tune he’d whipped through in his warm up. Her blue eyes sparkled. “And he’s so cute.”
“He’d be cuter if he smiled,” Belle said. “He’s the only stone-faced fiddler I’ve ever heard of.”
Ruby shrugged and tucked an errant blond curl behind her ear. “He’s serious about his music.”
“You’re serious about your music,” Cora argued, “but you glow when you play the organ. You’re never gloomy like Mr. Banks.”
“His fiddling isn’t gloomy,” Belle said. “Only his face. His fiddling is wild and fun. Makes me want to dance all night. You’d think he’d be grinning all over the place when he picks up the bow and fiddle.”
“His fiddling takes my breath away.” Ruby sighed, and leaned up on the tips of her toes. The townsfolk who had crowded into the schoolhouse were blocking her view of the fiddler. “Mr. Banks is simply divine, and I adore his music.”
Belle waved to one of her friends who had entered the building, motioning for her to come and join them. “I wish Mr. Banks would hurry and start,” she said. “I’m ready to dance!”
It was then that Ruby noticed the reed organ player hadn’t taken his place at the organ. Where is that man? The fiddler wasn’t the only one who created lively music that made people want to dance, clap, and stomp their feet. Mr. Jones, the older gentleman who played the reed organ like it was an extension of himself, was missing. Ruby adored Mr. Jones. He was the one responsible for her love of playing the organ with gusto, as he had coached her for the past ten years.
Charlie reentered the schoolhouse, a somber look on his face. He walked straight to Ruby and placed his hands on her shoulders. “It’s your turn, little sis,” he said. “Mr. Jones isn’t feeling well. He said that if there’s going to be organ accompaniment tonight, it’s up to you.”
“Me?” Ruby squeaked. She took note of the only exit where more townsfolk streamed in. Ruby loved to play the organ, more than anyone in her family, but not for the dance.
Sometimes her mother and father excused Ruby from family chores to play fast-paced music while they and the others worked. Everyone said they worked twice as fast when Ruby played the organ, and the chores were done in no time.
Charlie winked at Ruby, and then walked across the floor to where their father, Mr. Jepson, and the fiddler stood waiting for him. Ruby could see them conversing and looking her way. She loved playing the organ at home, but she had never played in front of so many people. And besides, Nathan Banks, the fiddle player intimidated her. It wasn’t just his superb fiddling or his dour expression. It was his kindhearted manner in school with her younger siblings, his dignified presence in the community, and his dangerous-looking dark eyes. For the past year and a half, since the schoolteacher had first come to Clover Creek, Ruby had wondered why a man who had to be nearly ten years older than her wasn’t married. She had secretly thought he would make a splendid husband for someone who loved music.
Someone like her.
Also by Vicki Hunt Budge
Contemporary Women’s Fiction
Hope & Healing Series
Intercession
Renewal
Deliverance
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to you, the reader. You make the whole process worthwhile. I often get lost in time when working with my characters and telling their stories because I enjoy writing about them so much. But nothing thrills me more than to have someone say they loved the book and/or the characters.
I am indebted to Lou Ella, Angie, Mark, and Michelle. Their insights and suggestions were invaluable and greatly improved this book.
A special thank you to Malary Bartholomew for editing this manuscript, and to Erin Dameron-Hill of EDHGraphics for the amazing cover art!
I’d like to express my love and gratitude to my husband and best friend. His devotion and encouragement mean everything to me.
I want to acknowledge the help and guidance I received to countless prayers about my writing. When I prayed, the answers always came. The joy of writing increased tenfold during these moments.
About the Author
Vicki Hunt Budge grew up in southern Idaho with a mother who read to her and a father who taught her to golf and swim. She attended Idaho State University and the University of Utah. Vicki and her husband raised four children on a small peppermint farm in Central Oregon. She has always loved history and the settling of the west because years ago her ancestors broke up sod and sagebrush in southern Idaho to farm and raise their families. In addition to her family, Vicki enjoys reading, family history, long walks along the river trails, writing sweet historical western romance and contemporary women’s fiction, and not cooking. Nothing makes her happier than beating her grandchildren at the game of Aggravation, or their wild celebrations when they beat her.
Her Believing Heart (The Surveyor's Daughters Book 1) Page 10