The Loves of Ruby Dee

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  The roan colt stood in the middle of the pasture and eyed Will. Will leaned against the fence and enjoyed his smoke. The little collie sat at his foot, and together all three of them watched the red sun disappear and lights come on in the windows of the house. Will could see Ruby Dee and Lonnie pass in front of the window above the sink. Once it looked like they were dancing again.

  Will resented Lonnie highly during those minutes. And he resented Ruby Dee, too. Both of them having a good time, no matter that Will was dog tired and the old man was set on dying.

  He resented Lonnie and resented being the older brother and the son of a woman who’d run off and the son of an obnoxious old man. He resented the hard-rock place he found himself in, wanting to leave and yet feeling his insides tearing at the thought of doing it.

  As Will saw it, he was in his middle years and had very little to show for his living. All the guys he had grown up with had families and places of their own. Keith Clarke had four children by a second wife and a big spread with his brother and was selling bull semen for twelve thousand a pop. Red Markham had married Kathy, and they were teaching school and raising three boys, doing Little League and scouts and all that stuff. Jon Leedy was building houses down in Amarillo, was on wife number four and had about seven kids, which made him pretty messed-up, but at least he had something to show for the past twenty-plus years.

  Looking out across the fenced pastures and the lengthening shadows, Will thought how he might have been married and had kids out there now, playing in the evening, if he could have gotten past the old man.

  Will couldn’t say he had ever been in love, but he’d been close with Georgia. He guessed one of his big problems was that he couldn’t forget what had happened to his dad when his mom had walked out.

  He’d been in the hallway that morning, had heard the final words that passed between his parents.

  The old man had said, “Don’t go, Lila... I love you."

  And his mother, in a tired, sad voice, answered, “Love don’t water roses, Hardy. I’m witherin’, and I just can’t stand bein’ dry no more.”

  Will knew very well that his mother was speaking of their bed being dry. Hearing that cut a pain through him the same as a double-bladed knife would.

  Will tossed his cigarette butt into the dirt and rubbed his eyes. They were tired after the day in the bright, hot sun.

  He thought then how his life wasn’t the old man’s fault, any more than his eyes burning was the sun’s fault. Every man made his own life as a result of his decisions. Will didn’t like sunglasses sliding down his nose, so he wouldn’t wear them. And it had been his own decision all along to be a stand-in dad for Lonnie and to stay and try to help the old man. It had been his own decision all along to cling to a place he’d always felt was his by right and virtue of his work. His decision, for a thousand and one reasons, to stay on at this dead-end place and to take what the old man gave.

  Knowing it was all his own fault did not improve his mood at all.

  It was fully dark now. A faint sound came to him—the squeaking of the back screen door. Ruby Dee’s husky voice called out, “Will?” She said it only once.

  “Yeah?” he hollered back, feeling a strange anticipation. Ruby Dee wanted him for something.

  “Georgia Reeves is on the phone.”

  His anticipation faded. “Okay...comin’.”

  He strode toward the house. Halfway there, he realized the little collie was walking along beside him. A tiny spark of pleasure sliced through him, but when he opened the back door and the dog raced inside ahead of him, he realized the only reason the dog had come along was to get inside.

  Ruby Dee was alone in the kitchen, bent over, writing something at the table. The radio on the counter played low—a country tune.

  She looked over at him.

  “I’ll get it in my office. Could you hang this one up?” Will pointed to the wall phone.

  She nodded, and he went on through the alcove, closing the door behind him. He switched on the green-shaded desk lamp, plopped down into the cushioned oak chair and paused to catch his breath. He wondered about Georgia coming by and calling.

  The last time Will had been with Georgia, she had yelled at him, “You only come around here when you’ve had a fight with your daddy. I’m tired of you using me for a comfort station.”

  He could have pointed out that she used him just as much, for home and car repairs and an occasional horny night. By the time he had thought of that, though, he was already outside and trying to find his boots in the dark yard, where she had pitched them. He’d cooled off a lot by the time he found them, and throwing her words back in her face had come to seem more trouble than it was worth.

  Two weeks later Georgia had married Frank Reeves and become the proud mistress of a brand-new double-wide manufactured home with a huge redwood deck, and co-owner of the thriving Reeves’s Quick Stop in Harney.

  When Will picked up the phone, he would be speaking to a married Georgia, and he didn’t know if he was up to that just then. The day had been tough enough. But that wasn’t Georgia’s fault, and he saw no call to be rude. And he guessed he wanted to talk to her.

  He said hello, and Georgia’s voice came back at him across the line: “Hello, stranger.” She could have a sexy voice, when she wanted. He squeezed his eyes closed, memories racing through his mind. Georgia said, “I came by today...Did that girl tell you?”

  “Yes, she did. I’m sorry I missed you.” That wasn’t exactly the truth. He had enough of his own problems right that minute and didn’t care to add Georgia to them. Still, he felt called upon to be polite.

  He regretted saying it, though, when Georgia said, “Are you, Will? I always had the feelin’ you never missed me one bit. That you’d just as soon be out there with your cattle and horses.”

  Now, that was a lie. “I missed you, Georgia, lots of times. And I told you that, too.”

  “You came to my weddin’, and you didn’t say a word, didn’t even stay to kiss the bride.”

  Will wondered right then how this subject had gotten started. He and Georgia were arguing, and they weren’t even together anymore—and she was married, by damn!

  “You married a fine man, Georgia, and the day you did, I didn’t see any reason to cause talk that could come back to haunt you and Frank later.”

  The line hummed for a few seconds before she said, “You know I would have married you, Will, if you had ever been willin’ to move off from your daddy.”

  It was an old song between them. He didn’t like the way she was making him feel guilty. He didn’t have anything to feel guilty for.

  She said, “We were always good friends.” There was hope in her voice.

  “Yes, we were,” Will said, and regrets washed over him like big ocean waves.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you...but I didn’t see any future in just waitin’, Will.”

  He closed his eyes again. “There wasn’t, Georgia. And that’s my regret.”

  He thought she might be crying. “Well, I just want you to know that just because I’m married to Frank doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Will. I really want you to know that.”

  “I’ll always be your friend, Georgia.”

  Again the line hummed. “Come ‘round to see me sometime, Will. Come for a visit, not just to get a Moonpie at the store.”

  Will didn’t have to say anything to that, because she hung up.

  He replaced the receiver and sat thinking about Georgia, wondering where Frank was that night. Likely hauling cattle up to Kansas. Frank was a trucker who hauled cattle. Will wasn’t certain why he did, because Frank was a wealthy man. That was why Georgia had finally married him. She had told Will she was tired of scratching day to day, while she got more lines on her face.

  Georgia didn’t have to worry about her looks; she was a handsome woman. But she was forty years old this year, and she hadn’t taken that well.

  Will felt disappointed, for himself and for her.
She would have been a good wife. She liked the country and knew about cattle. Georgia had been married once, and she knew the realities of a marriage. That was her word—”reality.”

  “Marriage gets boring, that’s the reality of it. I don’t expect fireworks anymore, Will. You don’t run around on me, and I won’t run around on you, and we’ll do okay.”

  Will knew there was no such thing as fireworks, that it was a myth, but Georgia saying it like she did made him depressed. He downright hit bottom when he thought of Georgia calling him up, when she was a newly married woman.

  Shoving himself to his feet, he went out to the kitchen. He was hoping Ruby Dee was still there, sort of holding his breath, until he saw her still at the table, the little dog lying at her feet.

  Will felt strange, self-conscious. He cast her a nod and went to the refrigerator. There was no more beer. He glanced over and saw the light burning on the coffee maker, the pot about half full. He poured himself a cup, then thought to ask Ruby Dee if she wanted one.

  “No, thank you. I’m about ready for bed.” She stretched her arms high above her head, causing the fabric of her dress to bunch and lift her breasts.

  Will felt himself grow warm. He leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. He tried to think of something to say, but he didn’t think asking her why she had never been married would be considered casual conversation.

  He said, “You’ve had one full day. Ready to quit yet?” And he guessed that wasn’t casual conversation, either.

  But she sort of grinned and shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

  Again they were quiet. After a moment, he remarked how good her coffee was, and she said she put a little baking soda in the grounds.

  “It helps sometimes, when the water is hard.”

  “We have a water softener,” Will said. “It broke last month, though, and I just haven’t seen to it. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Then he added, “But my coffee never did taste this good, even with the softened water.”

  After another minute of silence, Ruby Dee rose. “I guess I’ll go on upstairs. I like to get to bed early.”

  Disappointment stabbed Will; he felt aggravated that he couldn’t be more glib, so she might have stayed and talked with him. He wished her good night and stood there, watched her slow, swaying walk and listened to her quiet footsteps recede.

  Pouring himself the last of the coffee, he turned off the machine and went back to his office. He sat stiffly, downed several big swallows of coffee, then flipped open his address book, found the number for Ambrose Bell and dialed.

  The ring came five times before Ambrose answered in his slow, craggy drawl. “You got Bell here.”

  Will exchanged pleasantries and heard about Ambrose’s latest heart problems, and then he said, “I went by the old James place today, Am. Do you still want to sell it and the quarter section with it?”

  “Why, yes, I do. You thinkin’ to add it to the Starr?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about buyin’ it,” Will said, not truly answering the question. He wasn’t ready for people to know his business yet. “I’d like to see about leasing some range land from you, too. How about if we meet sometime in the next couple of days?”

  Chapter 11

  Sitting in the ugly old overstuffed chair, Ruby Dee tugged off her boots. For half a minute she admired them. She removed her socks and wiggled her toes. The wood floor felt deliciously cool to her bare feet when she stood to remove the rest of her clothes and slip into a cotton robe. She hung up her dress, then gathered her panties and bra, along with the clothes she had earlier tossed on the chair, when she had showered and changed before supper, and put them in the laundry bag hanging in the closet. Ruby Dee had a habit of orderliness.

  A light rap sounded on the door. She hesitated a minute, knowing it was Lonnie. Then she turned the glass knob and pulled the door open.

  Lonnie was bare from the waist up and rubbing a towel over his thick, dark hair. Ruby Dee, of course, was used to bare bodies, but bare, healthy bodies in this form—hard-muscled and tanned—were rare for her, especially only a couple of feet from her nose. His body also came with a heady scent of masculine cologne.

  She looked up and found his eyes observing her intimately, while his expression remained innocent. Oh, Lonnie Starr had a way about him, and Ruby Dee couldn’t help but return his grin.

  He said, “Boy, nothin’ like a shower to bring a body back to life.” He flicked the towel over his hard-muscled shoulder and leaned against the doorjamb. “It’s a clear night. Why don’t we sit out on the front porch? The lights out back won’t bother us there, and we can really see the stars.” His eyes regarded her intently.

  Ruby Dee shook her head. “I don’t think so, Lonnie. I’m goin’ to bed with a book.”

  “A book?” He arched his eyebrow and cast her a teasing grin. “Now, you can’t really rather go to bed with a book than look at the stars.” He said the word “stars” as if it had a double meaning.

  Ruby Dee gazed at him and felt a familiar sweet stirring in her belly. A woman would have to be dead not to be stirred by Lonnie Starr and his hazel eyes.

  “Come on, Ruby Dee," he cajoled, saying her name like the soft ringing of a bell. “The stars are a sight out here, like nowhere else on earth.”

  She wanted to. Badly. She wanted to see the stars and flirt with him and touch him, too, God forgive her; it was all His fault anyway.

  Ruby Dee stepped backward and cast him an amused grin. “I appreciate your offer, Lonnie, but I’m an early-to-bed person.” Gripping the knob, she slowly began to close the door.

  He searched her eyes. His easy grin faded, and his eyes darkened. “That’s right...you said that. Good night.” He flashed her a small grin, and then turned away.

  Ruby Dee shut the door and leaned back against it. Pressed against it and breathed deeply.

  Well.

  She heard his door close with a hard click. She felt the cotton fabric of her robe lying against her thighs, and she saw again his hazel eyes.

  Tears blurred her vision as she thought of the confusion and hurt that had crossed his face.

  Pushing from the door, she moved across the room and put an Elvis tape in her little stereo. Her gaze fell on Miss Edna’s urn, and she took it up and held it close.

  Miss Edna would put her warm hand on Ruby Dee’s head and say, “Child, this, too, will pass,” and Ruby Dee would always feel better.

  But the urn was cold and hard, and brought so little comfort.

  “You know, if it wasn’t for you decidin’ to die,” she said to the urn, setting it back on the dresser, “I wouldn’t be here, havin’ to make these kinds of decisions.”

  For a moment her gaze lit on her dream paper. She had the thought that she surely could get Lonnie to father her children and not even know what he was doing. Perhaps the thought was a little naughty, but it was the truth.

  But she heard Miss Edna saying, “Build the nest, first, Ruby Dee, then have the chicks.”

  Turning her thoughts from nonsense, she hauled out her tiny portable typewriter and dictionary, got herself settled on the bed and set to work transcribing her notes on Hardy Starr. The rosy glow from the scarf-covered lamp made the print easier to read. When her back began to hurt, she took the pillow Sally laid her head on and tucked it with the others behind her back.

  Sally did not appreciate the removal of the pillow and cast Ruby Dee an accusing look.

  A short time later Ruby Dee heard Lonnie Starr’s boot steps coming down the hall. She heard him hesitate at her door, then was relieved to hear him go on down the stairs.

  She lay back against her pillows. “Miss Edna, I just don’t know how life can get so empty and so full at the same time.”

  * * * *

  Will stared at the green screen, transferring the information to the computer from his scribbled notes for that day. He intended to have all the ranch records up-to-date when he left. He didn’t want to feel any guilt ab
out leaving. He ignored the voice that told him not feeling guilt would be impossible.

  He heard Lonnie’s footsteps approaching through the kitchen and sat back in the oak chair, expecting him to come to the office. But the footsteps passed, and Lonnie went out the back door. The screen door banged. Half a minute later pickup lights illuminated the black night.

  Will rose and stepped to the window. Lonnie’s truck came shooting down the hill from the barn, and the tires slung gravel as they hit the drive and headed for the road. Lonnie appeared to be a little peeved. Most of the time Lonnie drove fast, though.

  No doubt he was headed into Harney to have a couple of beers at Reeves’s Quick Stop, play a bit of pool and flirt with the women. He had been seeing Georgia’s sister, Crystal, occasionally that summer, and Will really didn’t like that. Crystal was way too young and had no sense where Lonnie was concerned.

  Will turned off the computer and the office lights.

  Suddenly, he felt oddly lost...as if he should be doing something. For the better part of two days he had been running on high, and now he’d dropped to a pit. Wanting a cigarette, he considered going out to his truck, but this time the strategy of keeping them out there won out. Will was tired and wanted a shower more than he wanted to walk all the way to his pickup.

  The old man was snoring when Will passed his room. Will stopped and looked in. The old man, still on top of his covers and fully dressed, had turned on his side.

  At the top of the stairs, Will saw the crack of light at the bottom of Ruby Dee’s door. He could faintly hear music...and what sounded like the clicking of a typewriter, which was curious.

  For a couple of seconds, he paused there, thinking about knocking on her door and asking her if she needed anything. He felt sure he would luck out and get to see her in her nightgown, which was a really juvenile hope.