[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby

by Lauraine Snelling

  The laughter of small children rang like music on the skittish breeze. Several of the young soldiers were playing mumblety-peg with a pocket knife, their expert tosses sticking the knife blade in the grassy bank. Several of the young boys were down wading in the shallows for crawdads. If she didn’t know better, Ruby might have believed this was a real community.

  A young drummer beat the cadence as six soldiers marched onto the parade grounds, squaring off the corners as they marched half the perimeter and then straight into the circle around the flag pole, where the Stars and Stripes fluttered in the evening breeze. At a barked command one man unwrapped the lanyard and lowered the flag in cadence to the bugler blowing the haunting notes of Taps. Another soldier caught the flag, keeping it from touching the ground, and once it was unsnapped, two men folded the flag in half the long way and in half again, then starting at one corner, folding the triangles over, back and forth until the final end was tucked into the packet. Following more orders, they traversed the same pattern out of the parade grounds and took the flag inside the office.

  “Dismissed,” barked the officer of the day, and the crowd relaxed again, a pleasant buzz echoing around the grounds as children darted and laughed and adults visited while they gathered up their belongings.

  When the last notes of the bugle had drifted off, Ruby cleared her throat and blinked, hoping the tears that threatened would stay put. “My, that was beautiful.”

  “It always chokes me up too, and I see it every day.” The captain settled his hat back in place and offered her his arm. “We’ll start the folks back up that way, and as soon as they hear Belle on the piano, they’ll know the dancing is about to begin.”

  “Belle already left?” How strange it felt to have one’s hand imprisoned between a man’s elbow and chest. She glanced up from under the brim of her hat and saw him studying her, a slight smile on his smoothly shaven face. Hopefully her hat hid the beat warming her neck. Had her heart skipped a beat also?

  The other officers gathered their families and followed suit. They passed Williams’ Saloon, which seemed to be doing a brisk business, if the laughter and shouting were any indication.

  Ruby hoped that anyone too drunk to behave properly would not bother to come to the dancing but stay inside that vile place and drink to their heart’s content.

  “A fiddle.” Ruby glanced up at her escort. “Did you know about that?”

  He nodded. “It’s one of my men. Rand plays a guitar, so I imposed on him to join the musicians.”

  Opal caught up with them. “Sure is pretty.”

  “You didn’t ride long,” Ruby smiled back.

  “I didn’t want to miss out on anything. Hasn’t this been about the best day ever?”

  “You said it just right.”

  “Come on, folks . . . find your partners and Virginia reel.” Charlie stood on the porch step, his voice carrying above the music, his bowler hat pushed back on his head.

  “Shall we?” The captain bowed slightly and motioned toward the couples lining up, men on one side, women in a line about eight feet in front of them. Feet tapping, they waited for the signal for the first couple to sashay out and do-si-do. The captain’s smile when she met him again to promenade made her heart skip a beat.

  With so few women present, the men lined up to dance with them. Ruby had never danced like this in her entire life. She waltzed and reeled, two-stepped and polkaed. She learned some names and forgot others. Even Mrs. McGeeney danced to near collapse. When Belle struck a couple of resounding chords, the music stopped, and everyone collapsed on benches, railings, porch steps, and chairs brought out from the dining room. More food and a huge bowl of punch waited on a table.

  “Charlie, is that your doing?” Ruby nodded toward the table.

  He just grinned at her and shrugged as if he didn’t know what she might be referring to. “Help yourself folks,” he invited, as if he were the host and all those in attendance his personal friends. No wonder people frequented Dove House, Ruby thought. I never realized how charming he can be. He and my father must have been quite a pair.

  Little children were carted off to bed before the music began again, and whether her feet thought it a good idea or not, Ruby danced with the rest of them. The moon rose, changing from orange to silver, shedding enough light for the dancing to continue.

  “Did you order this all up?” Captain McHenry asked when he got a turn to dance with her again.

  “Of course, I waved my magic wand, and presto, we had light.”

  He swung her around, and her feet hardly touched the ground.

  “No, I said it, and I meant it!”

  Ruby stopped in midskip. Cimarron’s voice. McHenry turned at the same time, searching for the culprit.

  Ezekiel Damish, one of the faithful customers at Williams’ Saloon, had Cimarron by the arm. She jerked back, her jaw clamped, enough fire flashing from her eyes to light up the area without the moon.

  At the captain’s nod, two of his men grabbed the offender by the arms and hauled him off behind Dove House. Someone else stepped into his place, and the music picked up again as if nothing had happened.

  As the final chord drifted away, swaying skirts settled back primly about weary ankles, and people thanked the musicians for playing, Rand for the meat, and Charlie and Ruby for all they’d done. Within a few minutes the street was empty but for the military detail cleaning things up and putting the chairs back where they belonged.

  “That was some to-do.” Belle let them carry her stool back inside. “Best thing that happened to this town since it came into being.”

  Ruby followed her inside. Late as it was, they would still have to have breakfast ready for their guests by seven. And all those dishes to wash. They trailed back to the kitchen to find everything cleaned up and put away.

  Ruby stared at Charlie.

  He shrugged. “They must have taken turns. I thought every soldier from the cantonment danced tonight.”

  Milly smoothed her hair back from a brow still damp from all the dancing. “I never . . .”

  Cimarron draped an arm over her shoulders. “Me neither.” At Ruby’s questioning look, Cimarron shrugged one shoulder and tipped her head slightly to the side. “It was bound to happen. Several gave me a hard time, but one of ’em just got too insistent. I was about to deck him myself, but the men in blue saved his hide and his pride.” She raised an eyebrow and rolled her bottom lip to be smoothed by her upper teeth. “I do know how to protect myself. Never fear.”

  While her words sounded brave, Ruby felt sure she saw a hint of fear in Cimarron’s eyes, or was it rage?

  “Hey, Milly,” Cimarron called, “did you dance with that young private? The cute one?”

  Milly turned fourteen shades of red, and the others laughed and teased her as they made their way up the steep stairs.

  Opal was sound asleep, toppled over on the top of her pallet wearing all but her shoes, when Ruby entered their room.

  Ruby drew the sheet over her sister and undressed in the moonlight silvering a square on the floor. She pulled her sheet up and listened to the others settle down. All in all the day went better than she had hoped, not that she’d really had any idea what to expect. And as Daisy had commented, the captain surely had been attentive. There was something to be said for an attentive man who treated one like a lady.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “We got the last section cut.” Joe leaned against the doorframe.

  “Good. That first cut is ready to turn.” Rand pulled his leather gloves back on. Haying at the Double H could have used a couple more hands, but other than the riffraff that hung around town, he knew of no one to ask. So they’d been trading off on using scythes to cut the field and wooden rakes to turn the drying grass. Up to now Rand had pastured the horses near the cabin during the winter, but putting up hay would keep them in better shape in case of deep snow. The cattle ranged all winter, using the draws and small meadows as protection when the wind and storms g
rew too fierce. He planned to build a shed and corral for the bull, so he’d need hay too.

  If he wasn’t careful, he might turn into a farmer like his family back in Missouri. Ranching appealed to him far more, but cattle needed to be fed.

  He followed Joe on out to the corral where Beans was working on a new bed for the wagon, one with a tall frame in front for hauling hay. “Lookin’ good there, old man.”

  “Now don’t you go old mannin’ me.” Beans drove another nail home before looking up. “Goin’ to get this done just in time, you’ll see. If’n the rain holds off, that is.”

  Rand glanced up to see only cerulean blue above them. “Sun addling your brains? There’s no rain in sight.”

  “You just get that hay dry fast as you can. My right knee ain’t never wrong. Says it’s gonna rain, so you better dig out your slicker.”

  Rand settled his hat lower to shade his eyes and shook his head. “Contrary old man.”

  “But, Boss, he’s always right.” Joe kept his voice low so that Beans couldn’t hear, not that he’d hear anything above the pounding of the hammer.

  “I know, but he’ll be on us from now till the first snow if we give him a chance.”

  The two men laughed as they headed back to the field where Chaps was swigging from his canteen. “Better put your shirt back on, we’re turnin’ that first cut.” Joe took a sneak peek at the sky, arching his back like he wasn’t checking for rain clouds.

  Rand chuckled to himself. Those two hated to admit an old guy like Beans might know more than they did. “Best we get at it.”

  The bats were out on their nightly insect foray by the time the men turned the last fork. The hay lay in rows, snaking across the field like long strings of giant proportions. “Two days and we can haul it in. I marked out the new corral and shed for the bull. We’ll stack it right to the north, give him some extra protection.”

  “And close so we don’t have to pitch it so far.” Chaps was always one for saving on labor, but he’d ride a horse dawn to dark with nary a complaint.

  “Thought I was gonna have to come lookin’ fer ya,” Beans muttered when they slumped through the door after washing up. He took the lid off the pot on the back of the stove, and the aroma of stewed grouse perked up all three of the men.

  “Fresh bread too?” Joe took a chair and propped his elbows on the table. “I used muscles I didn’t even know I had, and now every one of them is yellin’ at me.”

  “You young pups don’t hardly know a real day’s work. You oughta try settin’ train rails. Now, poundin’ spikes, that’ll wear you out some.”

  “How’s the wagon bed coming?” Rand dished up a plateful from the kettle Beans set in the middle of the slab table. Like most of the other furniture in the cabin, Rand had fashioned it from cottonwood logs he felled during the winter and whipsawed into planks. He’d laid them for flooring and the interior wall that separated the living quarters from his bedroom. The hands bunked in the other cabin he’d built. Shelves of cottonwood held books, baskets he’d learned to make from an old Indian woman, and extra clothing. He’d built the cupboards on the wall near the stove this last winter. A wolf pelt in winter prime lay thrown across the chair he’d fashioned and put in front of the fireplace, his only heat source and place for cooking until he had brought home the cast-iron stove with an oven.

  By local standards, he had a fine home and was known as a man who did things well.

  Conversation not only lagged but was nonexistent while the men ate, shoveling the food in quickly so they could sleep long enough to repair their bodies for the next day. After the others left, Rand banked the stove and, taking the kerosene lamp with him, headed for bed, hoping to read for a bit. If he could keep his eyes open.

  The rain held off until they had the first section stacked where Rand had indicated and the final section windrowed.

  “Now we’re gonna have to turn that section again.” The four of them sat on the cabin porch and listened to the rain drumming on the shake roof. Water running off the eaves sang its own tune as it bounced on the gravel below.

  “Quit yer grousin’, Chaps, and go find us a deer. I got a hankerin’ for liver tonight.” Beans took up his carving knife and the piece of dry wood he was turning into a spoon or fork. One couldn’t tell since he was still working on the handle.

  “I’ll do just that.” Chaps rose and stretched, then reached inside the door for the rifle and deerskin bag that held the bullets, both hung on pegs over the doorframe. As he headed for the horses, Rand nudged Joe.

  “Come on, we can sink some of those corral posts, holes are easier to dig with the ground soaked.”

  “And here I thought I might go on into town.” Joe yawned and, arms over his head, pushed against the slanted porch beams.

  “Guess you thought wrong.” Beans held his carving up to the gray light. As usual, an intricate design was taking shape under the sharp point of his knife.

  “We’ll all be goin’ into town once the hay is up.”

  Five days later Beans drove the wagon to haul back supplies, and the other three rode alongside.

  Rand nudged Buck into an easy jog. “You guys playing cards tonight?”

  “Well, we sure as fire ain’t goin’ home before dark.” Chaps patted his pocket where he’d stuck his monthly pay. “I’m feelin’ real lucky. Belle better be lookin’ out.”

  “Anyone hear of a dog for sale? I’m thinkin’ on getting one.”

  “Cow dog would be good,” Beans said.

  “Yeah, take Joe’s place.” Chaps slapped his thigh and hooted as if he’d just made the funniest joke of all time.

  “I wasn’t the one tied to a tree.” Joe eased over and shoved Chaps’ shoulder, nearly knocking him off his horse.

  The two galloped off, their laughter floating back on the breeze.

  “Them two ever grow up, be an outright miracle.”

  Rand chuckled and nodded. “But you got to admit they’re entertaining.”

  Rand was still smiling when he flipped the reins over the hitching rail on the east side of Dove House.

  “Hey, Mr. Harrison.”

  “Hey, yourself, Miss Torvald.”

  Opal scrunched up her face. “That’s my sister, not me.”

  “All right, then, Opal. But you’re growin’ up mighty fast. Why I heard tell that you can ride right well now, and so I thought maybe you’d like to try out Buck.”

  Opal leaped down the steps. “You really mean it?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “I’ll be right back.” The girl dashed out toward the garden.

  Rand shook his head. “She never walks when a run will do.”

  “That’s our Opal, all right.” Daisy leaned on the porch railing. “How ya doin’, Mr. Harrison?”

  Opal leaped over the rows of beans, waving two carrots. “Does Buck like carrots?”

  “Buck likes anything that smells like food. He’s even been known to eat leftovers.” Rand glanced back at Daisy. “I’m doin’ good, Miss Daisy. Things sure look different around here.” He tipped his hat back. “By the way, I’m sure you have a last name.”

  “Daisy Whitaker.”

  “Fine, Miss Whitaker.”

  Daisy ducked her head, and he was sure he saw a tear amble down her cheek. Now what did I do?

  Daisy sniffed and looked back at him, the tears making her eyes glitter like sapphires in the sun. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. No one ever called me that before.”

  Opal skidded to a walk before getting close to Buck.

  “You are most welcome. Good girl, Opal. You didn’t spook him at all.” You’d think she’d been around horses all her life, when I know for a fact that she hasn’t, and if her sister has her way, most likely won’t.

  Opal broke off the carrot tops and palmed the orange treat for Buck, who whiskered her palm as he lipped the carrot. She giggled and scratched her palm before offering him the other.

  “He’ll take the tops too. He’s not choosy.” The
green feathery tops disappeared as fast as the bottoms, and Buck sniffed Opal’s hair, down her arm, and her hands again.

  “He wants more.”

  “Buck always wants more. Here, I’ll give you a boost up.” He cupped his hands and nodded for her to put her foot in them.

  With a question on her face, she paused. “My foot’s awful dirty.”

  “So are my hands. Come on.”

  Opal reached up for the latigos that hung from the leather conches on the saddle, put her left foot in Rand’s cupped hands, and giggled as she slapped into the saddle. “You almost threw me right on over.”

  “Shortening my stirrups would take too long. You’re all right without them?”

  Opal shrugged. “Guess so.”

  “You’ll have to squeeze your legs harder to be felt through the leathers.”

  “I will. Can I go now?”

  “Yep. Rein him around and ride on down to the ford and back.”

  Rand and Daisy watched as Opal did exactly as he told her.

  “What’s Opal doing on—” Ruby came through the door in a rush, stopping when she saw Rand. “Oh. It’s your horse.”

  “Yup. Buck’s been mine for nigh on to four years.” Why was teasing her so much fun? He smiled as he watched her dither between good manners and telling him off. He hadn’t found her good side yet, that was for certain. And the way other folks talked about her, she was all good. Not prickly at all.

  “Oh.” Ruby nibbled her bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you’d like a drink of ginger fizz.”

  “Why that sounds right good. Thank you, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat.

  “I’ll get it.” Daisy brushed past Ruby, the screen door slamming behind her.

  Rand checked to see how Opal was doing before returning his attention to Ruby.

  She was still fidgeting. “I haven’t thanked you yet for playing your guitar at the Fourth of July celebration.”

  “Everyone had a fine time—that they did. I heard tell the whole thing was your idea.”