[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby

by Lauraine Snelling

  Ruby screamed, flailed at the mouse, and shuddered, glaring at her sister, who nearly dissolved in giggles.

  “What happened?” Charlie burst through the half-closed door.

  “Ahh! Another mouse.” Ruby brushed off her shoulders and shook all over.

  “A mouse jumped from me to her, and . . .” Opal, still laughing, pointed to the floor.

  “Opal Marie Torvald, I do not find this funny in the least. Ooh.” Ruby shuddered again.

  “You want I should do this?” Charlie waved a hand to indicate the remaining cupboards.

  “No. We will manage, thank you.” Ruby drew herself up straight. No mouse, or rather most likely mice in this case, was going to intimidate her. It wasn’t exactly that she was afraid of mice; she just didn’t like them to surprise her.

  And that one had definitely surprised her. Her heart still hammered in her chest.

  “We need a cat!” Opal looked down at Charlie. “You know anyone who has one to give away?”

  “Not right offhand, but let me think on it. But I’ll warn you, cats are at a premium out here. Breeding cats might be a good side business.”

  Ruby could tell Charlie was fighting to keep a straight face. “You ever had a mouse jump almost in your face?”

  “Nope. Can’t say that I have.” He backed out of the pantry without laughing, but she was sure she heard a snort as the door swung shut again.

  “Good thing it was me up here and not you, huh?”

  “Good thing.”

  “You would have fallen down to the floor, huh?”

  “Opal, just clean the next shelf.”

  “What if another mouse jumps out?”

  “What if I make you wash dishes for a week? Or perhaps a month?”

  Opal groaned.

  They wiped and dusted in silence for a whole shelf before Opal squealed, “Ooh, lookie.”

  “Now what?”

  Opal carefully pulled out a pile of what looked like torn-up paper and cloth. She held it carefully in both hands and lowered her burden for Ruby to see. “Baby mice. Look how tiny they are.”

  “Ugh, won’t be long before they can jump and run too. Throw them in that box of trash.”

  “But, Ruby, they’ll die.”

  “Yes.”

  “You think that was their mama who jumped out?”

  “Opal, I don’t have the time or desire to figure mouse lineage.”

  “But, Ruby . . .” Opal touched one of the hairless little creatures with the tip of her finger. “How can we get them back to their mother? Leave the nest in here?”

  “No!”

  “But we can’t just let them starve to death.”

  No, I can think of a much swifter demise than starvation. But the look of awe and delight on her little sister’s face prevented her from saying what she thought.

  “What if the mama mouse comes looking for them?”

  Ruby picked up a bowl from the counter. “Put them in here, and we’ll think on what to do.”

  As they finished the cupboards, they saw plenty of evidence of mouse habitation but no more actual encounters. Ruby called Charlie to bring hammer and nails and cover a hole they found at the back corner. Now surely, if the doors were kept closed, they would have no more mice in the cupboards.

  “They can get through a pinhole, I declare,” Charlie said after he finished hammering.

  “I don’t care if they live outside, that’s where they belong, but not in my cupboards and kitchen.”

  “You want I should put these outside?” He indicated the nest. He glanced at Opal. “I’ll put them in a box right under this window, and most likely the mother will find them there.”

  Opal looked from the nest to Charlie and then to her sister. “I hope so. Or maybe we could pry off that board and put them in the wall. That’s where she went. She’ll be awful sad without her babies.”

  Lord, help me. Ruby patted Opal’s shoulder. “A tender heart is a good thing to have.” But does it have to apply to mice? “Put them outside, Charlie, and thank you.”

  Ruby set the leftover beans to heating and sent Opal up for the girls. She’d had to argue with herself over what to expect from them. If they didn’t help out with the cleaning, why should they eat? After all, even the Bible said that if people were too lazy to work, they shouldn’t expect to eat.

  Opal came back down. “They said they aren’t hungry.”

  “That answers that.” Ruby scooped out bowlfuls for the four of them and set them on the table where a stack of sliced bread already waited. Simple fare but filling. And quick.

  At about the usual time for the saloon to open, they heard a pounding on the front door. Ruby and Charlie exchanged looks and shrugged. Whoever it was would go away.

  Sometime later, the pounding started again.

  “Can’t they read the sign?” Ruby wiped the perspiration off her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “Most likely not.” Charlie rolled a barrel of flour into place. “You want I should go tell them? Word will get around real quick.”

  “They can go do their drinking down at Williams’.”

  “But . . .”

  “I know—the girls.”

  “Not only that, but he don’t have room for them to play cards. Men hereabouts like to come over in the evening to play.”

  “Fine, you go tell them we are closed now but we will be open for meals and cards in three days. You said you knew someone who hunted and might get us a deer? If you see him, will you please ask?”

  “Sure enough.”

  That night Ruby was so tired she could hardly climb the stairs to her room, let alone carry the bucket of hot water. Opal helped her.

  As she looked down at the washbowl, nothing sounded more wonderful than the bathtub they’d had at the Brandons’, where she could sink down in hot water with bubbles up to her neck. They’d just poured some of the water into the washbowl when a knock came on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Cimarron peeked around the door. “It’s me. Do you have a minute?”

  Ruby stifled a sigh. “Of course. Come on in.”

  Cimarron closed the door and leaned back against it. “I just want to ask if . . . you know . . . talk about . . .” She clutched the sides of her skirt with shaking hands.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, did you really mean it that there won’t be any more, ah . . .” She glanced over at Opal who smiled back at her.

  Ruby thought longingly of the hot water in the washbowl. “We will be serving food and coffee. If you stay, you will be a waitress and at times a maid, depending on where the work is most needed. We will close all but the cardroom, where we will serve coffee only, until ten or so. No more late nights, but we will serve breakfast starting at six.”

  “I see.”

  Ruby waited until she saw indecision replaced by relief.

  “Can I stay?”

  “Can you sew?”

  “Somewhat. Actually yes, I just haven’t in some time.”

  “Good, we’ll all need new dark skirts and waists. I’ll have Charlie bring back dress goods from Dickinson.”

  “So that means I’ll still be working at Dove House. Oh, I mean . . . well, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, and if someone you serve leaves a tip, that will be yours to keep.”

  “All of it?”

  “All of it.”

  “Belle’s going to be spittin’ mad.”

  “That’s up to her.”

  “She wants me and Jasmine to come with her.”

  “We’ll see you downstairs, ready to work, in the morning at six.”

  “What should I wear?”

  “Something to scrub in because getting this place clean is our first order of business.” Ruby refrained from asking about Jasmine and nodded when Cimarron said good-night.

  Ruby slipped behind the screen and had disrobed down to her drawers and camisole when another knock came at the door.

  “Would you ans
wer 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?