by Marin Thomas
“You’re my daughter. Of course I care.”
“Seriously?”
Ruby opened her mouth to protest, but Mia threw the grooming brush on the ground. “When are you going to call Hank ‘Dad’? ’Cause he is, you know. Your real father.”
She’d call Hank Dad if and when he earned the right to the title.
“And why are you so mean to him?” Mia asked.
How had this conversation become about Ruby? “I’m not mean to Hank.”
“You never say anything nice to him.”
That isn’t true. “Hank and I are adults and—”
“You hate him ’cause he didn’t want you when you were a baby.”
Ruby hadn’t thought there was anything Hank could say to convince her that he’d made the right decision in putting her up for adoption, but she understood now that he’d been in no position to raise a child on his own after Cora had run off. And Hank had never asked Ruby’s parents to keep her adoption a secret. Maybe she was angry with the wrong person. But accepting Hank as her father was asking a lot when she’d already been let down by one father in her short lifetime.
“I don’t hate your grandfather.”
“He thinks you do.”
“Did he tell you that?” When Mia looked away, Ruby knew her daughter was fibbing. “Hank might be my father, but he’s still a stranger to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mia said.
“What doesn’t matter?”
“You’ll never let us be a real family.”
Hank and his dusty ranch were hardly the symbol of home and hearth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Because you don’t listen.” Mia’s upper lip quivered. “You only care about what you want. It’s always been about you.”
“That’s not true. I took the job in Kansas because I was worried about you, not me.”
“No, you’re making us move because you’re embarrassed by what I did.”
Now Ruby couldn’t look her daughter in the eye. She had been worried about people blaming her for Mia’s poor judgment. They’d claim Mia didn’t know any better because her only role model preferred live-in boyfriends to marriage.
“You’re wrong,” Ruby said, even though her daughter was right. She cursed when Mia ran from the barn. What good would leaving Pineville do if their problems followed them all the way to Kansas and wiped out their fresh start?
Chapter 11
“Feeling better?” Ruby eyed Hank closely as he shuffled into the kitchen.
“Are the horses okay?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“They’re fine.” But she was exhausted. Her confrontation with Mia had left her raw. When she’d returned to the house an hour ago, she’d made a fresh pot of coffee, needing a dose of caffeine before she tackled the dust that had blown into the house.
“I forgot to mention earlier that your stock tank is ruined,” she said.
“Which one?”
She was terrible with directions—couldn’t tell north from south or east from west. “It’s near the area where your fence was torn down.”
“What’s wrong with the tank?”
“Someone peppered it with bullets.”
The caterpillars above his eyes rippled across his brow.
“I put a frozen pizza in the oven for supper.” The freezer was stocked with frozen meals, but there were no fresh fruits or vegetables in the house.
Hank removed paper plates from the cupboard, his crooked fingers trembling as he struggled to separate the stack.
“You need to report the damaged tank to the sheriff.”
“Tomorrow,” he said.
He didn’t appear too concerned that his property had been vandalized again. “Why not now?”
“The sheriff’s busy dealing with emergencies after the storm.”
Ruby conceded that a damaged water cistern probably wasn’t a priority after a major weather event. “Will your insurance cover the cost of a new tank?”
“Don’t have insurance.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You shouldn’t cuss, daughter.”
Ruby wanted to remind him that she wasn’t his daughter in any true sense of the word, but she let it pass. “Why don’t you carry insurance on the ranch?”
“Canceled my policy last year. Didn’t see a point in spending the extra money.”
Hank probably figured he’d be dead sooner rather than later, so why waste the money. “Do you have enough savings to replace it?”
“If you want to know how much money I have, why don’t you ask?”
Fine. “How much money do you have?”
“Petro Oil owns the pump jacks on my property, and their leases bring in ten thousand dollars a month.”
Hank earned $120,000 a year? “If you have that much money”—she gestured to the run-down room—“why do you live like this?”
“What’s wrong with the way I live?”
Ruby wouldn’t be human if she didn’t admit that she’d love to get her hands on some of Hank’s cash. She’d buy a new car and a two-bedroom house for her and Mia, so they wouldn’t have to rent a trailer or a dumpy apartment in Elkhart.
“Tomorrow we’ll drive into town and speak to the sheriff.” Ruby’s cell phone went off, and she recognized the Kansas area code. “I’ve got to take this.” She retreated to the parlor, then a few minutes later returned to the kitchen.
“That was my new boss,” she said. “The Red Roof Inn is opening two weeks ahead of schedule. I need to report early to the management training class.” At least she had a legitimate reason to give her daughter for leaving the ranch sooner rather than later. “Mia and I will have to catch the Greyhound bus to Elkhart on Tuesday.”
Hank’s face turned pasty. The paper towel he was folding into a napkin fluttered to the countertop and then his legs buckled. Ruby sprang forward, catching him by the waist. They tumbled to the floor, her body cushioning his fall.
“What’s the matter?” She pushed him onto his back and shook his shoulders. “Hank? Is it your heart?”
Mia waltzed into the kitchen, eyes widening when she saw her grandfather struggling to breathe.
“Get Joe. Hurry!”
Mia raced from the house.
Less than a minute later the back door crashed open. In one glance Joe assessed the situation. He removed a medication bottle from a cabinet and stuck a pill in Hank’s mouth.
“What are you giving him?” Ruby asked.
“Valium.” Joe grasped Hank beneath the armpits and hoisted him into the chair Mia had pulled out from the table.
Ruby got to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot through her tailbone. She dampened a clean dishcloth with cool water and placed it across Hank’s forehead. He swatted her arm, but she held the rag in place.
“What does the Valium do, Hank?” When he remained mute, Ruby shifted her gaze to Joe.
“The pacemaker’s rhythm can be disrupted if he becomes anxious. The pill calms him down.”
Mia planted her hands on her hips. “What did you say to upset him?”
That Mia was accusing Ruby of causing her grandfather’s collapse hurt like hell. She might not have formed a bond with Hank like Mia had, but that didn’t mean she wanted something to happen to him. “I told him that you and I are leaving on Tuesday.”
Mia gasped. “We are?”
“I have to report to my new job early.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” Ruby narrowed her eyes, warning Mia not to challenge her decision and upset Hank further.
Mia left the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
Ruby removed the cloth from Hank’s forehead, relieved the color had returned to his face. She brought him a glass of water, but he pushed it away. Not in the
mood for his orneriness, she said, “Drink it, or I’ll pour it down your throat.”
While he guzzled the water, she eyed Joe. The fact that he knew right where Hank kept his pills and what to do with them proved he was more invested in his boss and his job than he pretended to be. She set the empty glass in the sink, but when she turned around, Joe was gone.
The timer dinged and Hank shifted in the chair. “Stay right where you are.” She grabbed a dish towel and removed the hot baking sheet from the oven, then cut the pizza into slices and placed one on a paper plate for him.
“You gonna shove this down my throat, too?” he asked.
She fought a smile. “Damn right.”
“Your mother never swore.”
“I wouldn’t know that about her, because you don’t talk about Cora.”
“Fetch me a fork ’n’ knife.”
She’d forgotten about his missing teeth. She handed him the silverware, then opened the back door and poked her head outside. Mia had put Pretty Boy in the corral and was sitting on the top rail, gesturing wildly with her arms—probably bitching about her mother to the horse. No sense telling her supper was ready—she’d eat when she grew hungry. Ruby joined Hank at the kitchen table. “What time should we leave in the morning?”
“Don’t matter to me.” He got up from his chair, tossed his half-eaten meal into the garbage, and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the hallway and up the stairs. Then another door slammed.
The pizza in Ruby’s mouth tasted like cardboard, and she forced herself to swallow. Hank acted as if he didn’t want her to leave. He’d claimed he didn’t have any regrets giving her up for adoption, but maybe he’d had to convince himself of that in order to live with his conscience all these years. But if he really wanted her to stay, why didn’t he just say so?
She hadn’t answered his summons because she’d wanted him to embrace her as his long-lost daughter. Well, maybe she had a little. But she’d come mainly because she’d wanted to learn who the real Ruby Baxter was. She’d never expected to want to know more about the real Hank McArthur—the man hidden beneath layers of dust and grit.
She stored the leftover pizza in the fridge, washed the dishes, then filled a bucket with cleaning solution and carried it into her and Mia’s bedroom—she’d saved the worst mess for last. A half inch of grime coated the bed and rug. Once she wiped down the furniture and washer and dryer, she removed the comforter and went outside to shake the dust free. Joe had been busy. He’d reattached the porch door, then collected the fallen tree branches and piled them next to the barn. Dusk descended on the ranch, but Mia’s backside was taking root on the corral rail.
Ruby grabbed her pajamas and went upstairs to shower. When she returned to the kitchen, she let Friend out in the yard to do his business. The dog came back in and settled down for the night on his pillow. A short time later Mia came into the house, sat at the end of the bed and pretended to watch the rotisserie oven infomercial on the TV.
“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge, if you’re hungry.”
Mia ignored her.
“You were the one who said you didn’t want to stay here after we got off the bus.”
“That was before,” Mia said.
“Before what?”
“I knew about the horses.”
Ruby shoved a hand through her damp hair. “Mia, I—”
“And we can’t leave Hank.” Mia popped off the bed and paced across the carpet. “He’s got a sick heart. Who’s gonna help him if he has another attack and Joe’s not here?”
Ruby envisioned Hank lying unconscious on the floor with Friend’s head resting on his leg. It was possible his heart could give out at any moment, and once she and Mia left the ranch, it might be the last time they ever saw him alive.
“You go,” Mia said. “I’ll stay until school starts.”
If Mia thought she could push Ruby away that easily, she’d misjudged her mother. But how could she take her daughter away from Hank and his horses when the Devil’s Wind was the one place that made her happy? On the other hand, Ruby had to support them. If she didn’t show up in Elkhart, her new boss might give her job to someone else. Then what?
But . . . maybe after another week or two at the ranch the shine would wear off Hank and the horses and then Mia might be open to moving on. Exhausted by the day’s events, she decided to stew over the consequences later. “I’ll notify my supervisor that I can’t make the training session.”
“Really?”
“I’ll call her in the morning.”
Mia’s mouth curved into a genuine smile, and for once Ruby felt like she’d done something right in her daughter’s eyes.
Chapter 12
When Ruby opened her eyes Saturday, she was alone in bed. Funny how a few horses had turned Mia into a morning person. Usually her daughter slept until noon on weekends.
Ready for whatever the day held in store for her, Ruby threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, slid her feet into her flip-flops, and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, then gulped it down before going upstairs to comb her hair and brush her teeth. Five minutes later she grabbed her purse and went in search of Hank. She found him in the backyard, staring into the branches of the cottonwood.
“Did you love my grandma?” Mia sat on a limb, her legs dangling.
“Your grandmother was the prettiest woman this side of the Mississippi.”
“What color was her hair?”
“Blond like yours.”
“If she was so pretty, why’d she like you?”
Hank chuckled. “Are you saying I’m ugly, missy?”
“You don’t have a lot of teeth.”
“Had all my chompers when I was courting your grandmother.”
“Do you think she would have liked my mom?”
“Cora loved everybody.” The hollow ring in Hank’s voice ached with tenderness. Thank God Ruby had ended things with Sean when she had. If this was what a person had to look forward to when they fell in love . . . No, thank you.
“Hang the feeder on the branch to your right.” He pointed above Mia’s head.
“I need help.”
Ruby wasn’t about to let her daughter fall and break her neck. She dropped her purse to the ground, climbed the stool next to the trunk, then snagged the lowest branch and hoisted herself into the crotch of the tree.
“Hold my leg,” Mia said.
Ruby clutched the calf inches from her nose. “Be careful.”
“How’s that?” Mia asked.
“Good,” Hank said.
“Move, Mom.”
Ruby shimmied out of the tree, and when Mia’s feet touched the ground, she said, “How would you like to go into town with me and Hank?”
“What are we going to Unforgiven for?” Hank asked.
Maybe his mind was growing as frail as his body. “We’re reporting the damaged water tank to the sheriff.”
“I wanna stay here,” Mia said.
No surprise. “We’ll be back soon.” Ruby pulled Hank’s truck keys from her pocket, then picked up her purse. “Ready?”
Hank patted his thigh, and Friend crawled to his feet from his spot in the shade.
“Stay.” Ruby put her hand in front of the dog’s face.
“He likes to go for a ride,” Hank said.
“Friend stinks. And it’s too hot for the dog to wait in the truck while we speak with the sheriff.”
When they got to the front yard, Hank held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”
“I’ll drive,” she said.
“I’m not an invalid.”
She took the bottle of Valium out of her purse and shook it. “If your pacemaker goes crazy, I don’t want you running us into a ditch.”
He swiped the medicine from her hand, then got in on t
he passenger side.
Once he buckled his seat belt, she pulled away from the house. “No smoking,” she said, when he made a grab for his Winstons.
He grumbled but left the cigarettes alone. The drive into Unforgiven took a half hour—plenty of time to interrogate him. “Where were you born?”
“Dumas, Texas.”
“Never heard of the place.”
“’Bout fifty miles north of Amarillo.”
“Did you grow up there?”
“You gonna ask me questions all the way into town?”
“Yes.”
“My father left when I was ten and my mother—” He coughed up phlegm, then unrolled his window and spit. “She moved us into a rent-by-the-week motel, and I hung out at the pool while she entertained men in our room.”
“For money?”
Hank nodded.
How sad that Hank’s mother had sold her body to support herself and her son.
“Were you an only child?” she asked.
“I was when my mother took off with one of her regulars.”
Ruby’s relatives were a bunch of losers. The fact that she shared their genes didn’t bode well for her. “Did you ever see your mother again?”
“No.”
She pictured a teenage boy returning to the motel after school and discovering his mother had vanished. At least Hank had spared Ruby that kind of hurt. A newborn couldn’t know she’d been cast off. “You said you were on your own at fifteen. Wouldn’t Social Services have—”
“I wasn’t going to let them put me in a boys’ home.” He drummed his fingers against his thighs. “I worked odd jobs for food.”
“What about school?”
“Dropped out.”
She was surprised Hank didn’t have a high school education. “How’d you end up with the Devil’s Wind?”
“I’m tired.” He slouched in the seat, then tipped his hat, shielding his face from view.
She’d hit a nerve when she’d asked about the ranch, which made her even more suspicious about how he’d come to own the Devil’s Wind. She turned on the radio. Static poured from the speakers, so she shut it off and mulled over their brief conversation. Everyone who’d ever mattered in his life had left him. Maybe he’d turned his back on her not only because he couldn’t take care of a newborn, but also because he didn’t know any other way.