[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Miss Torvald, you are a chip off the old block, only a lot prettier.”

  “Do I have your agreement?”

  “You’d turn down business?”

  “Yes. I would.” She straightened her shoulders. “You’ve already spoken with Charlie about the repairs to the cardroom?”

  “Oh yes. Paid him up, though his prices were a mite steep.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what all she was thanking him for, other than for courtesy’s sake, but he didn’t seem a bad sort when he was sober.

  Ruby glanced up, hoping Charlie would go speak with Mr. Harrison, but instead she saw his back as he returned to the kitchen. Back to smiling, she crossed to the rancher’s table.

  “Good morning, Mr. Harrison, what would you like this morning?”

  “Coffee and some breakfast.”

  “How many eggs with your pancakes?”

  “Two, three.”

  “Very good.” Ruby turned his cup upright and returned to the kitchen. She gave Daisy the order, grabbed the coffeepot, and headed back out.

  “I hear you had a bit of trouble here last night,” Rand said as she filled his coffee cup.

  “How did. . . ?”

  “Small town, things get around fast. You’re livin’ in a dream world, you know.”

  “Pardon me?”

  He gestured around the room. “All these changes. Might do in Dickinson but not here in Little Misery.”

  She’d heard Little Missouri called by that name before and liked it even less now. So was this the man behind the conspiracy? He sure did act like it could be true.

  “Mr. Harrison.” She clipped off each sound as if she’d just finished a lesson with an elocution teacher. “I don’t tell you how to run your ranch, and I’d appreciate the same courtesy from you.”

  “But you’re a woman. What do you know about running a business?”

  “I may not know a lot, but I’m learning, and it is my business.” If I can keep the doors open. She clamped her teeth, smiled in spite of the tight jaw, and took her coffeepot over to the other table. She’d rather serve the two louts than serve him.

  “I swear I’m going to learn to shoot, and he’ll be my first target,” she muttered back in the kitchen as she plunked the coffeepot back on the stove.

  “Who?” Opal looked up from buttering the tops of the rolls lined up on the table.

  “Mister Harrison.”

  “Ah, is Rand here?” Cimarron started toward the door, then stopped herself.

  “Here’s his plate.” Daisy set the plate on a tray that already had a syrup pitcher and a dish of jam.

  Ruby picked it up and backed through the swinging door. She turned to see Charlie talking with Harrison and made her way to the table after dropping off extra pancakes for the drummers.

  “Mornin’ again, Miss Ruby,” Charlie said, “that will work much better.” His emphasis on “that” made her sure he meant the change of clothing rather than the serving of food.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Ruby didn’t quite manage to keep the resentment from her voice. She set the food in front of the man at the table.

  Rand looked from one to the other. “Thank you, Miss Torvald,” he said with a slight emphasis on her last name.

  “You are welcome.” She paused, “Will there be anything else?”

  “I’ll take care of him.” Charlie set his cup down on the table and his rear in a chair. “So you’re on your way for a bull, eh?”

  Ruby turned away but not before hearing the man’s response. Where would he have to go for a bull? She glanced back to see his carpetbag by the door. Obviously he was taking the train. She shook her head. What she knew about ranching would fit in a teaspoon.

  The dining room had emptied, and they’d cleaned up again with Milly and Opal setting up the tables for dinner when Charlie asked if she was ready to go.

  “We’ve packed the rolls in three baskets. That should give you plenty.” Daisy tucked a cloth over the tops of the bread.

  “Has anyone seen Belle yet?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “You want to use my straw hat?” Cimarron asked. “That sun is heating up.”

  “Thank you.” Ruby accepted the broad-brimmed straw with green ribbon around the crown and trailing down the back. Good thing she had fashioned her bun down lower. She used the hatpin to best advantage and took a basket over her arm.

  Is this what Daniel felt like when stepping into the lion’s den?

  “I’m going to introduce you as Ruby Torvald, owner of the newly redone Dove House.” Charlie picked up the other two baskets.

  “And I’ll invite them to come for a meal in the new dining room to see the many changes I have made. And that there will be no charge.”

  “Good.”

  “And I will offer them our special rolls that have become so popular with the travelers on the train.”

  “Right.” They walked up to the first house, the one that Ruby was sure had been her first to visit that dreary night.

  Charlie rapped on the open door.

  “Come in.”

  Charlie motioned for Ruby to go first. They stood for a moment before the woman came from the rear of the house.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald, I brought Miss Ruby Tor-vald to meet you.”

  “Aye.” Doubt blossomed on the woman’s worn face. “Pleased.”

  “I brought you a sample of the sweet rolls we are baking. Folks on the train are really enjoying them, and I hope you like them too.” Ruby held out the napkin-wrapped parcel. “And I want to invite you and your husband to come for dinner, at no charge, and see all the changes we’ve made. Dove House is a real family place now.”

  “Dining room, you say?”

  “We redid the saloon. No more liquor served.”

  “What about the . . .”

  “No more.”

  “Humph. Well, I’ll be.”

  “I hope you’ll be my guest very soon. My sister, Opal, and I are looking forward to meeting all the people of Little Missouri.”

  Holding the rolls in both hands in front of her like a shield, Mrs. Fitzgerald looked from Charlie to Ruby. “You sure don’t look like one of them fancy ladies.”

  Ruby reminded herself to thank Charlie for his advice on changing clothes. While her traveling dress was appropriate for calling, it was far too fancy for this home. The large room was combination kitchen, parlor, and most likely bedroom, if the stack of pallets in the corner was any indication. The upstairs was most likely all one room too. Only difference, the large porch on the back of the first floor.

  “Thank you for the rolls.”

  “You are welcome. I hope to see you soon.” Ruby turned to leave, grateful they hadn’t been asked to sit down for coffee.

  Once they were out the door, she sucked in a huge breath of clean, fresh air.

  “Friendly, isn’t she?” Ruby allowed the bite of sarcasm to say what she really meant.

  “She didn’t throw us out.”

  “True. Thank God for small favors.”

  The man in the next house was glad for the rolls but disgusted that he could no longer drink while playing cards at Dove House.

  “That swill over at Williams’ nearly killed me.” He glared at Ruby as if she had forced him to pour the drinks down his gullet.

  Ruby didn’t bother to invite him for a free meal.

  Her basket lighter, they walked up to Mrs. McGeeney’s boardinghouse.

  “Since she serves meals, do you think she’ll take affront with a gift of sweet rolls?”

  “No, she’s smarter than that. She likes good bread as well as anyone. Her biscuits are real good, but sometimes her bread better not be dropped on anyone’s foot.”

  “That bad?” Ruby chuckled, glancing at him from under the brim of her hat just in time to catch his wink. “Charlie, I do believe you have a talent for storytelling.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  The
smell of the next place attacked them before they took the first step on the three treads to the porch.

  “What is that horrible odor?”

  “Oh, Bill must be mixing up his red-eye brand whiskey.”

  “With rotten eggs? No wonder people get sick.” She blinked against the eye-burning stench.

  “You get used to it after a while.”

  Ruby took a handkerchief from her reticule and held it to her nose. “Do we have to go here?”

  “Can’t leave anyone out. Come on around back. That’s where he mixes it.”

  They walked around the corner of the slab-wood sided building to find the proprietor pouring ingredients in a large washtub. He stirred, tasted, grimaced, and added another bottle of cheap whiskey.

  “Brought someone who wants to meet you,” Charlie called as they stood a ways back from the concocting.

  Williams let his wooden stirring stick bang against the side of the tub and came around to greet them.

  After Charlie’s introduction, Ruby held out the wrapped rolls and went into her invitation.

  “Why thankee, miss. I been wantin’ to come by and thank you for sending so much business my way. Full every night now.”

  “Miracle half of Little Muddy ain’t in the graveyard if they drink that stuff regular-like.” Charlie motioned to the tub.

  “When I get that bottled up, I’m set for a time again.” Bill Williams nodded toward the mess. “Have to fix up a batch every week. I serve that good stuff only when someone’s willing to pay extra.”

  “I heard tell you been accused of highway robbery.”

  Ruby held her ground with a smile, all the while wishing she were anywhere else.

  “They don’t have to drink it.” He set the rolls on the porch, then cussed at the dog who came over to sniff. “You got any more of that hooch you brought by before? I can afford some more now.”

  “I’ll bring it over. You want one case or two?”

  “Or three, four, whatever you got.”

  “It’s cash, Mr. Williams.” Ruby interrupted firmly.

  “I know that. Hear you had a bit a ruckus last night. Hee hee. That drummer . . . told him he’d never get by with that flask. Man can’t hold his liquor nohow.”

  At Charlie’s look of insistence, Ruby reiterated her invitation to come to Dove House for a meal, and after enduring a minute or so of small talk, they left.

  Back on what could be called a street only through a flight of imagination, Ruby took a deep breath of clean air and stared out at the sparkles on the river. All I’d like to do right now is go take a bath, a long bath. She shook out her skirt and looked longingly back at Dove House. “I sure hope this is all worth it.”

  “Me too.”

  Mrs. Paddock at the livery promised to come for supper that night. Two houses, if one could call them that, were empty, so they left a package on each table after Charlie assured her that someone did indeed live there.

  “What are those shacks over there?”

  “Ah, you don’t want to go there.”

  “They’re vacant?”

  “No. Trust me, Miss Ruby, you don’t want to go over there. We’re tryin’ to get you a good reputation in town, and goin’ there won’t do that.”

  “Charlie.”

  “Those are the cribs, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter. Let’s get back on to Dove House.”

  What are cribs? But at the look on Charlie’s face she decided not to ask.

  “There are six of us females at Dove House and four women in town. Are there any women out on the ranches?”

  “Mrs. Robertson and her girls. You’ll like her, and then there’s one north of here, I think. Don’t believe I know her name.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Well, Little Missouri weren’t here at all until the railroad went through.”

  “Oh. And the cantonment?”

  “Built to protect the railroad.”

  “Oh.” They needed more women here to civilize this place. Though it might have a name, it seemed impossible to call it a town.

  They got back in time to help with dinner, at which they served two guests and Mr. and Mrs. Paddock from the livery.

  “Best meal I’ve had in a long time,”Mr. Paddock said, patting his middle and earning a glare from his wife.

  “I always wondered what it looked like in here.” She glanced around the room.

  “Some different than it used to.”

  His wife glared at him once again. “Well, you should know.” She pushed her chair back. “Thank you, Miss Torvald. I hope you can make a go of it here.” She started for the door, and her husband followed suit.

  “Please come again.” Ruby watched them go. Obviously the wives in town had not appreciated Dove House.

  When the train whistle blew east of town, Milly and Opal took their baskets of sandwiches and cookies over to sell to the passengers while the fireman filled the engine boiler with water.

  When they came back, Opal handed Ruby the money along with a letter from the bank in Dickinson. “We could have sold more food. And they want coffee. What if we set up a table instead of bringing baskets? A lady said at most stops they get off to buy food. But since there’s no platform here . . .”

  “But they would get off. And they do want coffee or even fresh water,” Milly added.

  “We could set up a table. That is a very good idea.” Ruby nodded and smiled back at the two excited girls.

  “I’ll build us one,” Charlie said. “A bench or two might be a good idea too.” He glanced out at the pile of lumber left over from building Dove House. “Going to run out of wood pretty soon.”

  “I hope not. I was thinking about flower boxes for along the front. Lots of places in New York have them.”

  “This ain’t New York, Miss Ruby. We’d do better gettin’ a milk cow.”

  “Really?” Opal spun around from sneaking a bite of dough from the molasses cookies Daisy was making. “A cow of our own?”

  “We could sell milk.” Cimarron took a pan of cookies from the oven. “And we’d need a churn.”

  Opal cocked her head. “For what?”

  “Churning cream into butter. We could serve sour cream on pancakes or bread, along with chokecherry jelly or syrup. Bet we can find us some chokecherries come August.”

  Ruby listened to the plans and thought again how much things had changed. Now if she could only get Belle to cooperate. About the time she thought they were getting somewhere, a situation like last night happened. Trouble was, Belle really didn’t see anything wrong with the drinking, so turning a blind eye was not difficult.

  “I’m going to talk with Belle.” And explain to her that any breakage from now on would come out of her pay. Now that ought to get her attention.

  Ruby headed up the stairs to confront Belle before she lost her nerve. When she rapped on the door, she could smell cigarillo smoke. Of course, while the rest of them were working themselves to dead tired, Belle could sit in her room and smoke. She knew the feeling was unjust; after all, Belle did pay for her room and board, so Ruby clamped her jaw. Be polite. Be gentle. A soft answer . . .“Uff da,” she muttered to herself, wishing she dared say something stronger.

  Belle opened the door enough to let a wave of smoke out. “What?”

  “I would like to speak with you, if you have a moment.” And if you don’t, I’ll speak anyway.

  “Sure, why not?” Still in her wrapper, Belle opened the door and stepped back with an entering motion with her other hand, the lighted cigarillo trailing smoke as she fanned the air.

  Ruby cleared her throat. If only she could open a window. “I want to talk with you about the damage in the cardroom last night.”

  “Sorry, but that varmint caught me by surprise.”

  “You had no idea he’d been drinking?”

  “No.” Belle slitted her eyes. “Poured it in his coffee. Why? You think I let him?”

  Ruby pictured the cardroom. They kept the coffee hot
over a low candle on another table. It would be easy enough for a man to sneak liquor into his coffee cup. The sigh escaped before she could stop it. Now how could she demand Belle pay for damages?

  “Me and Charlie are just going to have to watch ’em closer. Locals know Charlie will toss them out, so they get theirs before they come here. Drink enough coffee, play enough cards, and they are pretty sober before they leave.” Belle waved to a chair. “Have a seat.”

  Do I ask her about the conspiracy? No, that might get Cimarron in trouble. Ruby rubbed her forehead. Things were so complicated.

  She sucked in a huge breath of courage. “I would appreciate it if you were more careful. We . . . I cannot afford to make continual repairs to tables and chairs. Therefore, if—”

  “What a minute, honey.” The word did not sound like an endearment. “If you think to blame the breakage on me—”

  Ruby took a cue from the other woman and interrupted her, something that went against all her precepts of good manners. “I am telling you that if there is more breakage, I will charge it to your account.”

  “My account! Now listen here—”

  “No, Belle, you listen.” She gentled her voice. “We offer the room for card playing, and since you run the room, it is up to you to convince our guests to leave their liquor at the door if they want a clean place to play cards where no one cheats them. The coffee and desserts are on the house.” She had refused to stop at Belle’s snort and plowed right through to the end.

  Belle glared at her through the smoke haze, her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight.

  “Is that all?”

  “No, the night my father died, he mentioned a buksbom, which is Norwegian for box. I wondered if you had any idea what box he might have been referring to.”

  “And if I know, you think you can just waltz in here, threaten to charge me for the broken furniture, and then ask for my help?” She blew smoke directly toward Ruby. “Little girl, you just ain’t got no sense a’tall.”

  Ruby ignored the voice that counseled quiet and leaned forward. “And I suppose you are not only planning on my failing, but doing all you can to make sure it happens. Ripping out signs, warning people to stay away.” Ruby inhaled and almost choked on the smoke. “We will make a success of Dove House, and you have the choice to join us or take yourself elsewhere.” She rose to her feet and gave her skirt a twitch. “You let me know what you decide.”