by Marin Thomas
When Mia opened her arms wide, Ruby expected her to hug Lonesome—but she hugged Hank. His skinny arms patted her awkwardly on the back.
Ruby turned away from the poignant scene.
Chapter 9
“What are Hank and Mia doing this afternoon?” Joe steered the pickup west toward a sky full of dark clouds.
“I imagine they’ll hang out at the corral.”
“Has Mia always been interested in horses?”
“Nope. Just since we got here.” She stared out her window.
Joe could take a hint. Ruby didn’t care to talk about her daughter’s infatuation with the ranch’s equine boarders. Fine by him. He had other questions for her, which kind of surprised him, considering he’d become antisocial after Aaron’s death.
“What made you decide to relocate to Kansas?”
She turned, her shoulders squaring off with him. He got the feeling just about everything in Ruby’s life was a touchy subject.
“A job,” she said. “I worked for the past three years as the assistant manager for the Booneslick Lodge. I told my boss that I needed a new challenge.” Ruby faced forward in the seat. “She used her business contacts to help me land a position at the Red Roof Inn in Elkhart.”
“Why transfer to another small town and not a city like Saint Louis or Chicago?”
Ruby pressed her fingertips into her thighs until the skin around the nail turned white. “I don’t like big cities.”
It wasn’t any of his business what had driven Ruby and her daughter out of Pineville, Missouri. Whether a person remained in one spot or moved from place to place, everyone was running from something.
“Who named the rock Fury’s Ridge?” she asked.
“The Osage Indians. It’s rumored to be an ancient burial site.”
“It looks like a final resting place for damned souls.”
The pickup hit a bump and Ruby bounced off the seat. “Part of me wants to snub my inheritance.”
He opened his mouth to tell her not to make any rash decisions but changed his mind. He didn’t want to give her the impression that he came with the ranch. He’d already said too much at the Possum Belly. And because he’d opened up about Aaron, the choke hold his son’s death had had on him loosened and he almost felt human again. He had Ruby to thank for the change in him.
He veered left, taking a fork in the road that led away from the churning sky. The wind blowing through his open window carried the scent of ozone from the lightning show miles away. He pressed on the accelerator and the speedometer edged toward sixty. Then he slammed on the brakes and put his arm out when Ruby flew forward. The truck skidded to a stop next to a stock tank riddled with bullet holes. Whoever’d used the metal reservoir for target practice had done so recently, because the ground was still damp.
“Wait here.” He shifted into park, then got out of the truck. The wind roared in his ears and a violent gust pelted his skin with stinging bits of dirt. Thunder rumbled and the dark clouds overhead boiled and churned. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe the Devil’s Wind was a portal to hell—a fitting place for damned souls like his.
He crossed the soggy ground and peered inside the tank. Less than a foot of water remained. Shell casings littered the dirt. He picked one up and then returned to the truck and tossed the souvenir to Ruby before removing a pair of binoculars from beneath the seat.
“What’s in that direction?” She wagged a finger at the barbed-wire fence stretching across the land.
“The Bar T.”
She studied the bullet casing. “Maybe Hank’s neighbor did this.”
Joe surveyed the area before getting back into the truck and driving off. “After Hank returned from the hospital with his pacemaker, Sandoval showed up at the door and offered to buy the Devil’s Wind.”
“Hank wouldn’t sell.”
“No. A few days later a section of fence between the two ranches came down and cows went missing.”
“Is Sandoval trying to intimidate Hank into selling?” she asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Are you going to contact the deputy and report the damaged water tank?”
“It won’t do any good.” Joe closed his window. “Sheriff Mike Carlyle is Sandoval’s cousin. Unless Hank has concrete proof—which he doesn’t—that the Bar T cowboys are vandalizing the Devil’s Wind, the sheriff won’t investigate.”
“You haven’t caught anyone trespassing?”
“No.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by the sheriff’s office before I leave town.” Ruby shouldn’t care about Hank’s problems—he’d never been there for her to lean on through the years. Still . . . the little girl inside her, who badly wanted a father’s love, couldn’t leave Oklahoma without conveying her concerns to the lawman. Besides, Mia would never forgive her if she didn’t do everything in her power to help Hank.
“I don’t see any cattle. Where’s the herd?”
He pointed to a group of cows taking shelter in the underbrush.
“How large is the Devil’s Wind?”
“A thousand acres—about one and a half square miles.”
If Hank had had such a rough childhood and had run away as a kid, how had he ended up owning a ranch?
“Storm’s getting close.” Joe turned the truck around. “We’d better head back.”
“Does Hank have a shelter?”
“There’s a dugout on the side of the house.”
Hopefully Hank and Mia had run for cover. By the time Joe parked next to the barn, the wind had picked up and Ruby had to use her shoulder to push the truck door open.
“Get in the shelter.” Joe jogged to the corral, where Hank was attempting to rope Pretty Boy.
Ruby went in the opposite direction, toward the underground cellar. “Mia,” she called into the dark hole.
“I’m down here, and so is Friend. Get Hank, Mom!”
Ruby wasn’t surprised that Mia was more concerned with her grandfather’s safety than her mother’s. Shielding her eyes, she squinted into the blowing dust. Joe was guiding the horse to the barn, but Hank struggled to walk, the tempest shoving his old bones sideways. He stumbled and fell to one knee.
Ruby rushed to his side. “Give me your hand!” He pushed her away. Ignoring his protests, she hauled him to his feet. By the time they made it to the shelter, her mouth and nose were clogged with dirt and her eyes watered. Hank wanted her to descend the steps first, but she forced him through the opening.
“Hurry, Hank.” Mia’s voice spurred him forward.
The shelter door banged closed behind Ruby, and the roar of the wind faded to a loud hum.
Mia pointed the flashlight at her grandfather and laughed. “Your hair’s standing up on your head.”
Hank patted his shirt pocket.
“Don’t you dare,” Ruby said. “I didn’t drag you down here so Mia and I could breathe in secondhand smoke.”
“Sabrina smokes,” Mia said. “She offered me a cigarette after PE class.” Sabrina had been a best friend until she’d made the drill team and quit hanging out with Mia.
“Kids shouldn’t smoke.” Hank coughed, either to reinforce his point or because the dank air in the shelter hurt his weak lungs.
“Have you tried to stop smoking?” Mia asked.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a good reason to stop.”
“What about me? Aren’t I a good enough reason?”
The door above their heads opened, saving Hank from answering Mia. Ruby caught a glimpse of black sky before Joe descended the stairs.
“Are the horses gonna be safe in the barn?” Mia asked.
“Should be,” Hank said.
Joe stood with his back to Ruby. She breathed in the scent of musty earth and hardworking male, then swal
lowed a moan at the rush of warmth pooling between her thighs. She shifted her feet, trying to ignore the tingling sensation.
Seconds turned into minutes, and just when Ruby thought she couldn’t take the dark confined space any longer . . . silence.
“Is the storm over?” Mia whispered.
Joe climbed the steps and opened the door. “Coast is clear.”
Friend bolted from the cellar first, and by the time she and Mia helped Hank navigate the stairs, Joe was halfway to the barn. Ruby surveyed the damage. The big cottonwood had lost a limb but remained standing. Smaller branches littered the yard. And the screen door from the back porch rested inside the corral. Ruby groaned at the thought of all the dirt that had blown into the house.
“I’m gonna check on—”
Ruby blocked Mia’s path. “Let Joe take care of the horses. I don’t want you getting near them until they’ve settled down.”
“But—”
“Listen to your mother,” Hank said. “The animals are spooked. Best leave ’em be for now.” He walked off.
“Why don’t you see what we can make for supper,” Ruby said. For once Mia didn’t argue. After she went inside, Ruby caught up with Hank in the front yard. She surveyed the house. “Looks like you lost a few roof shingles.”
“Don’t care about the roof.”
He should. She eyed the puddles on the porch. There wouldn’t be enough pots and pans to catch all the drips if it rained for hours.
Hank placed his hand against his chest.
“Are you feeling poorly?”
Ignoring her question, he took the pack of cigarettes from his shirt and crammed them into his pants pocket, then knelt on the ground in front of the raped rosebushes. In a trancelike state, he scooped up handfuls of the red petals and dropped them into his shirt pocket.
The man exasperated her. He nurtured abused and abandoned horses. Took in stray dogs. Treated his granddaughter kindly. And mourned battered shrubs.
Why couldn’t he have found the strength and courage to take care of his own daughter instead of giving her away?
Hank called you home, didn’t he?
Three decades later and with the threat of poor health hanging over his head. Even so, he looked feeble and small hunched in front of the thorny perennials.
The door to Ruby’s heart inched open a little wider as she dropped to her knees and helped him gather the silky petals.
Chapter 10
“What are you going to do with these?” Ruby handed him the rose petals she’d gathered, and he slipped them into his shirt pocket.
“Save ’em.”
She envisioned a heaping mound of shriveled petals hidden inside a shoe box stowed at the back of his closet. “Why?”
“They remind me of Cora.”
That he doted on the stupid bushes after the woman had left him and his daughter was pathetic and touching at the same time. He eyed the petals that had blown out of reach, and she crawled across the ground to retrieve them. “How old are the bushes?”
“A couple of years older than you.”
“I don’t have a green thumb,” she said. “Maybe you can share your secret on how you’ve kept them alive in this”—bleak—“climate.”
Listening to Hank impart gardening tips wasn’t how Ruby had envisioned her visit with him, especially when he hadn’t said he was sorry for giving her away or waiting to contact her until after his health had grown frail. But the reality of his mortality weighed heavily on her. She curled her fingers over the petals in her palm. She could remain angry and resentful or . . . She unfurled her fingers. She could give Hank a chance to earn her forgiveness before he withered away and ended up in a box. She had to try, not for her and Hank’s sake, but for her and Mia’s.
“Looks like we got them all.” Hank crawled to his feet. He stumbled, and Ruby grabbed his arm to steady him.
“Think I’ll go rest.” He climbed the porch steps, then stopped to catch his breath on the landing.
“Hold up.” Ruby plucked a petal from the bottom step. “This one fell out of your pocket.” He took the petal and disappeared inside the house. Assuming Mia would want an update on the horses, Ruby headed to the barn. “Joe?”
“In the storage room!”
The sound of his muffled voice sent a tingle racing down the back of her neck. She hurried her steps, then stopped when her conscience spoke.
What do you think you’re doing?
She wasn’t doing anything.
You’re supposed to be focusing on Mia, not targeting your next boyfriend.
Just because she enjoyed Joe’s company didn’t mean she was looking to hook up with him before she left for Kansas. Right now he was the only one at the ranch who gave her the time of day. She felt sorry for him because he’d lost his son, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him. The only way that would happen was if she let things go too far between them. And there was no chance of that.
Ruby had already been burned twice—the first time by Glen Baxter and the second time by Dylan. Any idiot knew there were three strikes in baseball. The only way to protect herself was to run at the first inkling of trouble. So that’s what she did—she left men before they could leave her. As long as she remained just friends with Joe, neither one of them would get left behind.
“Ruby?”
His voice jolted her back to the present.
“What’s wrong?” He walked toward her, carrying a small chain saw in his hand.
“Sorry. I was lost in thought.” She smiled. “Have the horses calmed down enough for Mia to visit them?”
“She can fill their grain feeders while I clear the debris out of the corral.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“If you’re not used to storms like this, they can be unnerving.”
“Believe me,” she said, “I’ve weathered worse storms than the one today.” She went back to the house and surveyed the mess on the porch. Resisting the urge to stop and shake out the bedspread, she entered the kitchen and found Mia feeding Friend.
“When can I see the horses?” Mia asked.
“That’s what I came in to tell you. Joe said you can fill their grain feeders if you want.”
Mia made a dash for the back porch, then stopped. “You want to help me?”
Caught off guard by the invitation, Ruby was speechless.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”
“No, no. I’d love to go with you.” She followed Mia back outside. Cleaning the house could wait.
“Is Hank okay?” Mia asked.
“Yes, why?”
“He acted like he didn’t hear me a while ago when I asked why he was going upstairs.”
“The storm tired him out. He’ll feel better after he takes a nap.”
Once they arrived at the barn, Mia went straight for Pretty Boy’s stall. “He’s your favorite, huh?” Ruby stood in the aisle and watched Mia pat the gelding’s rump and then flip open the feeder attached to the side of the stall.
“Pretty Boy looks me in the eye. I think he can read my mind.”
Ruby wished she could read her daughter’s mind.
Mia walked over to a large blue barrel across from the stalls, grabbed the scoop sitting on the lid and filled it, then dumped the grain into the feeder. “You want to do Lonesome’s?”
“Sure.”
Ruby shoved the scoop into the barrel and poured the kernels into Lonesome’s feeder. “You want me to fill Sugar’s, too?”
Mia nodded, then slipped a grooming brush over her hand and gently worked the bristles across the jagged scars that marred Pretty Boy’s hide. The frown that was usually present on Mia’s face vanished. Her daughter seemed at peace around the horses. With Hank napping and Joe cleaning up the property, Ruby intended to tak
e advantage of their privacy and Mia’s calm disposition.
“Before we left Missouri you refused to talk about what happened between you and Kevin Walters. I think it’s time, Mia.”
The brush froze against the horse’s neck. “It’s not a big deal.”
But it was. “Losing your virginity at fourteen is a really big deal.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “It’s not like other kids aren’t having sex.” Then she added, “At least I knew enough to use a condom and didn’t get pregnant like you did.”
Ruby pressed her hand to her warm face. Just once she wished her daughter would act like her age and not ten years older. “You were lucky you didn’t get pregnant.”
“No, I was lucky I listened to all your safe-sex lectures.”
Ruby had begun talking about the birds and the bees when Mia had gotten her period at age eleven. At least she’d done one thing right in her daughter’s eyes. “You’re still too young for sex.”
“Everyone’s doing it, Mom. If they aren’t taking their clothes off, then they’re going down on their boyfriends beneath the bleachers in the football field.”
Usually grown children complained that they didn’t want images of their parents making out in their heads, not the other way around.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were dating Kevin?”
“We weren’t dating.”
OMG. “So you don’t even like Kevin?”
Mia dropped her gaze.
“Did Kevin pressure you into—”
“No. It was my idea.”
“Did he know it was your first time?”
Mia wiped a finger across her eye, and Ruby’s heart broke. “I wish you would have come to me first. We could have talked about it.” I could have talked you out of it.
“There’s no point in talking, Mom. You don’t understand me. You don’t even know me.”
“Oh, c’mon. You’re being unfair.”
“I can’t believe you even care.”