The Promise of Forgiveness

by Marin Thomas

  “Seat yourselves.”

  Mia picked the booth near the air conditioner, and they shoved their bags beneath the table.

  “What’s up with that guy’s hair?” Mia whispered.

  “He’s impersonating a singer from the fifties.”

  “Weird.” Mia popped her chewing gum while she perused the menu.

  The diner walls were plastered with Elvis memorabilia—a framed TV Guide, an artist’s rendition of Graceland, album covers, signed posters, movie photographs, and a display case filled with Elvis bobblehead dolls. The black-and-white-checkered linoleum floor was covered in scuff marks, and the old-fashioned jukebox gave the motor home a teenage malt-shop feel. The place stuck out like a sore thumb in the spaghetti-western town.

  “I’m ordering dessert and a soda pop.” Mia glared defiantly and tapped a neon-green fingernail against the sparkly tabletop.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Fine. I will.” Mia dug out her iPod and stuck in the earbuds.

  Ruby had to pick her battles with Mia, and keeping her from turning into a slut trumped concern over a poor diet. Ruby wished her daughter understood that the choices she made now would impact her for the rest of her life.

  After Mia had had sex with Kevin, Ruby had forbidden her from seeing the boy. She’d considered speaking with Kevin’s father, but Biggs Walters was an unemployed alcoholic who had nothing good to say to anyone—especially women—after his wife had left him a year earlier.

  Ruby had resorted to one of her lectures on the dangers and consequences of having sex at such a young age, but Mia had shut her out and would never say why she’d slept with Kevin.

  If there was one upside to Mia’s rebellion, the timing couldn’t have worked out better for a move. Ruby had split with her boyfriend a week before catching Mia and Kevin in the act. She and Sean had been together nine months—the longest she’d lived with a guy before handing him his eviction notice.

  A month earlier Ruby had begun growing uneasy when Sean had ignored several of her text messages. She’d feared that he was losing interest in her, and with each passing day she’d become more anxious. Then one night he hadn’t come home—his reason: he’d stayed at a buddy’s house after drinking too many beers. Ruby hadn’t bought it and had asked him to move out. Sean had begged and pleaded with her not to break up with him, insisting he hadn’t done anything wrong. That the reason he hadn’t returned her texts was because the guys at work had made fun of him for having to answer to her for everything he did. Ruby wanted to believe Sean, but if she let him stay, his buddies at work would keep badgering him until they convinced Sean he could do better than Ruby. So she’d stood her ground, insisting he pack his bags and vamoose. She’d barely caught her breath after he left before Mia had blindsided her.

  Elvis delivered glasses of water to their table and Mia removed her earbuds. “Everyone ’round here calls me Jimmy,” he said. “Or you can use my Osage name, Ha-Pah-Shu-Tse. Means ‘red corn.’” He flashed a gilded-toothed smile.

  “Is that real?” Mia asked.

  “Solid gold.” He dipped his head toward Ruby. “We don’t get many women passing through Unforgiven. Where’re you ladies headed?”

  “Kansas. I’m Ruby Baxter and this is my daughter, Mia. We stopped in town to visit Hank McArthur.”

  “He’s my mom’s real dad.”

  Ruby shot Mia a stern look. She knew not to tell strangers their personal business. “Is the Devil’s Wind Ranch nearby?”

  “West of here. ’Bout a half hour by car.”

  Ruby should phone Hank and warn him that she’d arrived, but the call could wait until after lunch.

  Coward. Okay, she was delaying the inevitable. So what? It wasn’t like she had places to go and things to do the rest of the day. “I didn’t notice any motels in the area.”

  “If you want a room, you’ll have to go to Guymon.” Jimmy pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I got a pop-up trailer out back you can sleep in for twenty bucks a night. I’ll let you use the bathroom in here before I open in the mornings.”

  Ruby ignored Mia’s groan. “We might take you up on the offer.” If Hank turned out to be a schmuck, they’d bunk down in the King’s trailer while they waited for the next bus out of town.

  The diner door opened and in walked a pair of dusty jeans, a faded red Oklahoma Sooners T-shirt and a matching baseball cap. The newcomer glanced Ruby’s way, startling her with his empty brown-eyed stare. He nodded, although it sure didn’t seem like he saw her, and then walked up to the counter, choosing the stool farthest from the others.

  “This is your lucky day,” Jimmy said. “You might be able to hitch a ride to the Devil’s Wind with Joe.”

  “Joe?” Ruby asked.

  Jimmy nodded to the man with the vacant gaze. “Joe Dawson. He’s the foreman of the ranch.”

  Chapter 2

  Joe Dawson looked more like a cotton farmer than a cowboy. “Can you vouch for him?” Ruby asked the diner owner.

  “He’s been working for Hank ’bout a year and never caused any trouble that I heard of. You gals know what you want?”

  “Apple cobbler and a root beer.” Mia stuck her earbuds in and lip-synched to a song.

  “I’ll have a cheeseburger—no onions—and a Diet Coke,” Ruby said.

  Before Jimmy went into the kitchen, he set a glass of water in front of the Devil’s Wind foreman. Ruby ogled Joe. If he felt her eyes on him, he didn’t care, because he never glanced her way. After a minute she lost interest in the granite statue and gazed out the window while Mia pretended she didn’t exist.

  Ten minutes later Jimmy delivered their food. Ruby chewed her burger and recalled the dream she’d had the night after opening the lawyer’s letter. The scene had unfolded in front of a white clapboard house with a lush green manicured lawn and a pot of yellow daisies by the front door. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the periwinkle sky as butterflies fluttered in the air. Hank McArthur stood on the porch, his arms open in welcome as he shared a sad tale of how he’d been forced against his will to give Ruby up for adoption. She’d woken before she’d learned whether she’d forgiven him or not. She shoved a fry into her mouth, then froze when a shadow fell across the table.

  “I hear you’re looking for a ride.”

  “I’m Ruby Baxter.” She wiped her fingers on her napkin before offering her hand.

  “Joe Dawson.” His grip was firm, and she appreciated that he didn’t break eye contact to check out her boobs the way most men did.

  “My daughter, Mia.” She nodded across the table. “We don’t want to get in the way of your business in town, but we could use a lift to the Devil’s Wind.”

  “I need an hour.”

  “That’s fine. As soon as we finish our lunch, we’ll go over to the mercantile and look around until you’re ready to leave.”

  After the door closed behind him, Mia spoke. “He’s got sad eyes.”

  Not sad—haunting.

  Someone at the counter told a joke and the others guffawed. It was time to leave. “Finish your cobbler.” Ruby rummaged through her purse for money.

  “He keeps staring at you.”

  “Who?”

  Mia tilted her head. “The cop.”

  There was nothing memorable about the lawman’s face or neatly trimmed brown hair, but when their gazes connected, his mouth curved into a nice smile. Even if she hadn’t put dating on the back burner, the boy next door wasn’t her type. She’d celebrated her thirty-first birthday last month, but the crow’s-feet fanning from the corners of her eyes had cropped up years ago—each line representing a bad choice, mistake, or regret. She was way more than the fresh-faced officer could handle.

  “Let’s head over to the mercantile and wait there for our ride.” Ruby signaled Jimmy for the bill.

  “I don’t take credit cards or persona
l checks.” He set the ticket on the table. “Cash only.”

  “Who are the cowboys?” Ruby asked.

  “They ride for the Bar T. Roy Sandoval’s ranch borders the Devil’s Wind.”

  “Is Mr. Sandoval a friend of Hank McArthur’s?”

  “Just neighbors.” Jimmy took the twenty-dollar bill Ruby held out. “You want change?”

  “We’re good.”

  She and Mia removed their belongings from beneath the table.

  “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  She turned and came face-to-face with the boy next door.

  He tapped a finger against the brim of his Stetson. “Deputy Paul Randall.”

  “Ruby Baxter.”

  “What brings you to Unforgiven?” he asked.

  “Hank McArthur.”

  “You related to Hank?”

  “He’s my father,” Ruby said.

  The deputy’s lips stretched until his smile vanished into his cheeks. “Didn’t know Hank had a daughter.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She urged Mia toward the door, but the lawman followed them outside.

  “Must have been something important to keep you away from home all these years.”

  “Unforgiven isn’t home.” Ruby watched Mia’s retreating back. “I’m in a hurry.”

  “If you need anything during your stay, feel free to call on me.”

  “Thank you, Deputy—”

  “Paul.” The nice-guy smile returned. “We’re a close-knit community.” He got into his patrol car and sped off.

  “The deputy’s nosy,” Ruby said when she caught up with Mia outside the mercantile.

  “Is he joining your boyfriend-of-the-month club while we’re here?”

  Ruby squeezed the suitcase handle until her fingers grew numb. Before Ruby’s breakup with Sean, Mia had never voiced an opinion about her mother’s numerous relationships.

  “We’re not buying anything.” Ruby opened the door and ushered Mia inside the musty-smelling store.

  The sun streaming through the front window illuminated the dancing dust fairies around their heads. Wall-to-wall shelving displayed a variety of goods—canned food, cleaning products, fishing tackle, camping supplies, and boots. Three circular clothing racks held an assortment of men’s shirts, lightweight jackets, and hoodies. Jeans stacked two feet high sat on a table next to a shelf of white undershirts and BVDs. There wasn’t a stitch of female clothing in the entire store.

  Mia wrinkled her nose at the stuffed critters mounted on the wall above the checkout counter. Ruby identified the deer head, raccoon, possum, and fox, but the animal with a tubelike head and a bushy tail perplexed her.

  “That there’s a South American anteater.” A little person stepped out from behind a display of fishing tackle. The miniature, short-limbed senior couldn’t have been more than four and a half feet tall. Grizzled beard stubble covered his face, and a large bald spot on the top of his head gleamed beneath the fluorescent lights. The remaining ring of snowy hair stuck up at angles, and tufts of fuzz sprouted from his ears. His Roman nose, wide mouth, fleshy lips, and dark eyes hinted at a Greek heritage. Taken separately, his features were much too large for his small stature, but together they created a compelling face.

  “You two got off the bus.”

  Had it been this man’s eyes that she’d felt on her earlier? “I’m Ruby Baxter, and this is my daughter, Mia.”

  “Folks call me Big Dan. Name’s a keepsake from my days as a carnie.”

  “What’s a carnie?” Mia asked.

  “Someone who works for a traveling carnival,” Ruby said.

  Mia wandered over to a display of tourist trinkets and examined the key chains, snow globes, and magnets.

  Big Dan climbed onto a stool behind the register. “If you need something, say so. I’ll tell you if I have it. If you’re killing time until your ride comes, I got week-old newspapers you can read.”

  “How did you guess we were waiting for a ride?” Ruby asked.

  He opened a can of Kodiak chewing tobacco and placed a pinch between his cheek and gum. “I know everything that goes on in this town.” The statement was so matter-of-fact that she took him at his word.

  “Bought the store in eighty-three. Seen thousands of roughnecks pass through Unforgiven.”

  “Are there any women here?”

  “The ranchers’ wives shop in Guymon.”

  “What about the wives and girlfriends of the oil workers?”

  “Most of the men live near the drilling sites. And the married ones leave their families back home.”

  “I want this.” Mia held up a magnet of the state of Oklahoma.

  “That’ll be two sixty-eight,” Big Dan said.

  Mia shoved the trinket into her pocket, then sat on the bench by the front window and listened to her iPod.

  Ruby’s daughter had been testing her ever since Sean packed his bags. As much as she wanted to refuse to pay for the souvenir, she forked over a five-dollar bill in order to avoid a public spat.

  Ignoring her open hand, he placed the change on the counter. “Enjoy your stay at the Devil’s Wind.”

  How did he know where she was headed? She hadn’t mentioned the ranch. Big Dan’s gaze fixated on something over her shoulder, and Ruby spun to see what had caught his attention.

  Joe.

  His bootheels thunked against the plank floor, the warped boards popping beneath his weight. He stopped a good distance from the checkout.

  “Our ride’s here,” Ruby said. “It was nice meeting you, Big Dan.”

  “See you next time.”

  Ruby and Mia followed Joe to the black Dodge pickup parked in front of the mercantile. He opened the passenger-side door for Ruby, then slid behind the wheel and waited for Mia to buckle up before backing out of the space. He cruised through the four-way stop at the end of the street and then pressed on the gas when he hit the open road.

  She waited for him to make conversation or flip on the radio. He did neither. After a mile of silence, Mia fell asleep. Ruby’s eyes drifted to Joe. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other arm resting on the door.

  “What kind of ranch is the Devil’s Wind?” she asked.

  “Cattle and oil.” He shifted toward her. “I manage the cattle.”

  “Who handles the oil?”

  “Petro Oil leases the pumps, and Hank spends most of his time caring for a few abused horses.”

  The sympathetic rancher seemed at odds with a man who’d give his daughter up for adoption. But if neglected horses were willing to trust Hank McArthur, then maybe Ruby shouldn’t write him off too soon.

  “Does anyone else live on the property with you and Hank?”

  “It’s been just the two of us since he hired me a year ago in May.”

  She turned her attention to the giant grasshoppers bobbing across the land and wondered what kind of reception she’d receive from her estranged father.

  As a young child Ruby had been the apple of her adoptive father’s eye. Every Friday afternoon when Glen Baxter returned from his weekly truck route, he’d take Ruby fishing, to the movies, or bowling. On occasion they’d stop at Charlie’s Place and she’d eat cheese popcorn while he drank draft beers with his buddies. When she reached the age of sixteen, their relationship changed overnight. Her father began working extra hours and stayed away from home. Even though he’d been dead for years, his behavior still haunted Ruby. To this day she’d never been able to figure out what she’d said or done that had caused her dad to pull away from her.

  That Hank McArthur had turned his back on Ruby, too, left her with little hope he’d be a better man than Glen Baxter. His summons had ripped open an old wound, and the only way to stop the bleeding was for Ruby to find out why she’d been left behind.

  “You’ve probably figured it out by
now, but in case you haven’t, I’m Hank’s biological daughter.”

  “I heard.”

  “I’m surprised. Usually men don’t wag their tongues like women.”

  He chuckled.

  “I’m nervous about meeting Hank. Care to share any insight into the man?”

  “He keeps to himself mostly. Doesn’t have a whole lot to say.”

  “Neither of you have to worry about us girls invading your territory. This will be a short visit.” If she could coax the man who didn’t have much to say to talk to her.

  Chapter 3

  Joe steered the Dodge over to the shoulder of the road, then turned onto a dirt path and drove across a cattle guard. The vibration jarred Mia awake.

  The entrance to the ranch was hardly special—two lodgepoles held up a third log spanning the top. The name Devil’s Wind had been etched into the wood. Ruby pointed to an outcropping of jagged rock that resembled the bony plates of a petrified stegosaurus. “What’s that over there?”

  “Fury’s Ridge,” he said.

  Appropriately named—the rocky mass looked angry.

  Cumulus clouds dotted the heavens, the puffy cotton balls casting giant shadows over the land. Off to the west the skies grew ominous. Gusts of wind moved the buffalo grass in giant waves across the ground, forcing the bleached utility poles and their sagging wires to bend against their will. The desolate scenery belonged in a sci-fi movie.

  The truck whizzed by an antique wind pump, its rusted blades spinning fiercely. Not far from the pump sat a water tank and a lean-to for cattle, which were nowhere in sight. The road sloped upward, and at the top of the incline a two-story house, barn, corral, and shed came into view.

  The ranch house looked nothing like the residence in Ruby’s dream. Years of incessant wind and sandy grit had peeled away the white paint, leaving behind sun-bleached gray boards. The once emerald roof had faded to mint green, and hailstorms had left fist-size divots in the asphalt shingles. The structure had no gutters, and only a few blades of grass poked through the dirt. The yard would turn into a mud bog after a downpour. A pair of rusty shell-back chairs sat on the porch beneath the overhang, which provided shade from the sun and protection from an air-conditioning unit balanced precariously on a second-floor window ledge. The red flowering rosebushes in front of the porch were the only sign of life in the otherwise depressing scene.