The Loves of Ruby Dee

by Curtiss Ann Matlock

  He gazed down at her. “It makes me feel better,” he said, his voice low and heavy, “to know we could offer you somethin’ more than headaches.”

  His steely-blue eyes were on her, straight and strong. And Ruby Dee felt something shift deep inside and set her off balance.

  Suddenly nervous, she pushed away from the fence. “I’d better get back, or you’re gonna be havin’ your dinner at suppertime. I’ll set it out in fifteen minutes.”

  She walked quickly, only vaguely realizing she was doing so, keeping her face straight ahead, while all the time her mind was back there beneath the cottonwood tree with Will Starr and looking up into his intense, brilliant eyes. And wanting to touch him, too.

  Entering the kitchen, she found Lonnie gone and Hardy, still in his wheelchair, slamming cabinet doors and cursing. He glared up at her.

  She went to the top shelf of the corner cabinet and pulled out the amber pint bottle. “Is this what you are lookin’ for?” She gave it to him.

  He looked at her in surprise, but she just went about getting the meal on the table. He swiveled his wheelchair and went off to his bedroom. The wheelchair was electric and took some getting used to. He bumped into the door frame going through, and she heard him hit the one into the hallway, too.

  Ruby Dee squeezed her eyes closed and prayed to God that she had done the right thing, that Hardy Starr wouldn’t end up drinking himself into an early grave. How would she explain her actions, should that happen? Could Will Starr possibly understand that she felt Hardy’s pride and dignity were far more important than her own or anyone else’s judgment about how he should live his life?

  Thankfully, though she smelled whiskey on Hardy’s breath on occasion, he did not get drunk. She told him a few days later, “It’s a good thing you aren’t gettin’ drunk, because you can’t drive that wheelchair even when you’re sober.”

  And one quiet evening after Will Starr had eaten a big supper topped off by two pieces of apple pie, she explained what she’d done. He didn’t say anything, only nodded.

  * * * *

  They took Hardy to the doctor in Cheyenne on Wednesday, which was the earliest appointment Will could get. Ruby Dee knew Will was worried about his daddy and that he saw taking him to the doctor as his responsibility to do all he could for Hardy’s well-being.

  But she thought he was also trying to force his daddy into capitulating. He was gambling that Hardy would hate the idea of going to the doctor so much that he would get out of the wheelchair.

  Hardy was made of stern stuff, though. He hung in there and went to the doctor.

  Ruby Dee did not hold a very favorable opinion of doctors in general. She had seen too many doctors who considered themselves as very near holy and who treated elderly people as if they were either children or stupid and either way were of little use, except to keep handing out money. She also abhorred the practice of prescribing a pill for every ill, when so many problems could be controlled by proper diet, exercise and soul searching. Of course, doctors weren’t all to blame for the pill-popping; most people wanted to take a pill to cure them, since it required the least amount of effort on their part.

  Dr. Maybrey, however, treated Hardy with respect and care. After a thorough exam, he pronounced him in very good overall health. After speaking with Ruby Dee, he even decided to reduce his blood pressure medicine. The doctor could find no reason why Hardy shouldn’t be able to use his ankle. Arthritis showed up in all of Hardy’s joints, severely in his crippled knee, but it was no worse than it had been the previous year. The doctor proceeded, since he was thorough and respectful of Hardy’s mental faculties, to bring up a host of theories, from nerve damage to bone cancer. He suggested Hardy see a neurologist in Oklahoma City.

  Poor Will, he had expected either something to be found or for the doctor to say absolutely nothing was wrong with him. He wasn’t prepared to have to face a standoff, which was what Hardy gave him by staying in the wheelchair and insisting he couldn’t use that ankle, and the only way he was going to see a specialist was to be dragged feet first.

  Chapter 15

  “Come on, Ruby Dee...come down to Harney with me. I’ll treat you to a hot fudge sundae down in Cheyenne.” Lonnie parked himself in her way as she came up the stairs and gave her his best grin. “Have mercy on a poor boy.”

  She didn’t smile—Ruby Dee didn’t smile much with her lips—but there was a spicy gleam in her eye, and she put her hand on her hip in that way she had that was sexy as all get-out. If Lonnie had dared, he would have laid his hand over hers right there. But Ruby Dee drew a line, and he wouldn’t doubt she’d smack him right down the stairs if he crossed it. He liked that about her. He liked seeing how close he could get to that line.

  Her right eyebrow curved upward. “All right, cowboy—your Justins are shined, your Wranglers starched, and you smell good enough to eat. Is that all for me, or for some other girl?”

  “You, sweetheart,” he said smartly.

  She eyed him, and he experienced a nervous flutter inside.

  “What will you do someday, Lonnie Starr, if I take you up on your flirtin’?”

  “Is that a promise?” For the space of a heartbeat, the nervous flutter flew high.

  The next instant he saw the spice fade from her eyes, and she shook her head. “I was on my way up to tell you that Crystal just called and said she won’t be ready until near six. She’s been held up in Cheyenne.”

  Lonnie, feeling easy again, said, “Then I guess I’m all yours,” and opened his arms wide.

  Ruby Dee swished at him with her hands. “Oh, Lonnie, get out of my way—go on and make the women of the county happy.”

  “Somebody’s gotta do it,” he said, sounding serious. He moved aside, but as she started past him, he boldly caught her and kissed her neck.

  She pushed him away. “Lonnie! I’ll call your daddy, and he’ll come run you down with his wheelchair.”

  Lonnie’s sparkling eyes tugged at Ruby Dee’s heart. “Go on,” she said again, gazing down at him now, “but I want to tell you somethin’ that Miss Edna used to say: ‘Passion can carry a person down river but not bring them back.’”

  “On a river such as that, who wants to come back?”

  He gave her a wink and sauntered away.

  Poised there, her hands on the banister, Ruby Dee watched him go and said a small prayer for him. Lonnie Starr had a great need inside of him for feminine attention, needed it as strongly as a person bleeding to death needed a transfusion of blood.

  Ruby Dee guessed that her need was to give him attention, so the arrangement was satisfactory, although she sometimes had the fearful feeling that he might suck her dry.

  Just then, she lifted her head and saw Will Starr, standing at the top rail, gazing at her.

  She felt his tug, the fluttering in her belly.

  He had just come from the shower. His hair was wet and shiny, and he was slipping on a shirt and straightening its collar. He quickly covered his bare chest, hard muscled from wrangling calves and hay bales and feed sacks. Will never came around her without his shirt, and he always made Lonnie put his on around her, too.

  Her steps slowed. What did he think about her and Lonnie and their teasing? His expression revealed nothing.

  Over the past weeks, Ruby Dee had come to feel that Will Starr could hear her with his eyes, without her saying a word. She often found his gaze on her, but she never could read his expression. He kept his emotions bound and gagged, except for his anger, which often broke loose.

  “Are you still plannin’ to drive up to Woodward later?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.

  “Yes.” Ruby Dee nodded. “Do you want me to pick up anything for you?” Her gaze remained on his thick shoulders.

  He shook his head. “No. I told you I’d change the oil in your car. It’ll take about fifteen minutes.”

  “I won’t be ready for nearly an hour.”

  “Okay.” He nodded a good-bye and went on down the stairs in hi
s socks. His work boots would be at the back door.

  Ruby Dee’s gaze followed Will’s back until he disappeared into the dining room. She went into her room, closed the door and leaned against it.

  How odd it seemed now that she had never realized what it would be like in this household of men. She had believed this job would be no different than any private care she had done, except she had counted on it not being quite as intense and draining, since Hardy was not on his deathbed. She had often lived in and taken care of a single man. Often the household would have other perfectly healthy men living there, too. Ruby Dee did her job, and that was all.

  But this situation was proving quite different. These men were so very healthy and so very available. And she was so very vulnerable.

  Crossing to the window, she lifted her arms, straining to unbutton her dress in the back. She had the playful thought that she could have asked Will to unbutton it for her. He would have blushed blood-red.

  That was his charm and attraction, she thought. His reserve about sexual feelings made them all the hotter, same as filching a fresh-baked cookie made it all the sweeter.

  She paused at the window, looked down and saw Lonnie in his pickup stop to speak to Will. Then Lonnie went racing away, which was the only way he could drive. Or move, for that matter. Lonnie was always moving in a hurry.

  Will walked on toward the tractor barn, and Sally joined him, her silky tail swishing. Sally had taken a shine to Will Starr. That said something about the man, because Sally was a shy dog. Will walked slowly, as was his fashion. He wasn’t a man to hurry. He had a lazy, sexy way of walking, and Ruby Dee liked to watch him. She watched until he disappeared inside the barn.

  Still she stood at the window, holding her dress now, waiting to see him come out, get in the Galaxie and drive it into the shade of the tractor barn.

  It was Will who took care of Lonnie and Hardy, and of Ruby Dee, too.

  Will made certain she had cash in the drawer for groceries or anything else she might want. He never questioned her. Sometimes she found Sally’s food bowl full, and she knew it was Will who’d filled it. He wouldn’t let her take out the trash, said it was too heavy for her to lug. According to Will, the iron Dutch oven was too heavy for her to bring out of the oven. He made certain the gas tank of her car was full, and he had gotten so concerned over the state of her tires that he had exchanged them for some he had in the barn.

  He had contacted a friend at a bank in Elk City about getting a loan to buy land. Ruby Dee had overheard the telephone conversation. He had never said anything to Hardy about it, though. He worked hard, rode the roan mustang a lot and kept to himself. It was as if a No Trespassing sign hung around his neck. He did bring his daddy a new bottle of Jack Daniel’s, though, when his daddy ran out.

  Now, watching him out at the tractor barn, bending over the car engine, Ruby Dee pressed her hand to the window pane. Oh, sometimes she ached to touch Will Starr!

  The thought startled her, and, clutching her dress to her chest, she whirled from the window and the sight of him, as if she could whirl away from the thought.

  She showered, lotioned and powdered her body and slipped into a black chemise and over that a thin rayon peach-and-black-flowered dress. Leaning toward the mirror, she carefully applied Ripe Apricot lipstick, which exactly matched the flowers in the dress. Her boots were taupe, with black stitching. Standing in the middle of the room, she checked herself in the full-length mirror she had propped against the wall.

  She knew good and well she had dressed to catch Will Starr’s eye.

  “He looks at me, Miss Edna,” she whispered. “He looks at me, and I like it.”

  Not wanting to hear anything Miss Edna might tell her, she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs.

  Hardy was in the kitchen, still in his wheelchair. Oh, what a stubborn man!

  He had pulled his wheelchair up to the table, and had his leather and tools spread out on it. He had taken to braiding, weaving and carving leather pieces, since he could easily do that from the wheelchair. He was supremely talented, a real artist, although he only grunted when she told him that. Hardy Starr was a prideful man but not a boastful one. He could carve leather and weave it into bridles and reins and even bracelets. She wore a bracelet he had woven for her.

  Of course, he hadn’t wanted to appear to give it to her. What he had said was, “Here...go on an’ take it. I’m tired of lookin’ at it.” As if he hadn’t been making it for her the whole time.

  Any hint of tenderness set Hardy on edge. It seemed to Ruby Dee that Hardy Starr was not afraid of anything on earth—except warm feelings, his own especially. She tried not to press in on him too much, because she sensed that somehow he hurt when she did, the same way getting too close to a flaming wood stove hurt.

  Now his eyebrows went up when he saw her, and he stared.

  “Well, thank you, sir,” she said and did a pirouette, making the dress swirl around her legs.

  “Where you goin’? Got a hot date?” he said. His voice betrayed emotion, even though he went back to splitting leather on a board across the arms of the wheelchair.

  “I know you’ll miss me terribly, but I’m goin’ out for a drive. If there’s a fire you’re gonna have to save yourself.”

  He eyed her and then said very sourly, “Then you’d better bring me a bucket of water.”

  She got a little plastic bucket from the back porch, filled it with water and set it on the table. That made his eyebrows shoot up again.

  Chuckling, she couldn’t resist kissing his cheek. “Oh, Hardy, you sure know how to look at a gal and make her feel lovely.”

  “Yah...get off me.”

  But she knew his pleasure. Her heart squeezed. She was becoming much too fond of him.

  The fading heat of a summer day hit her when she stepped out the back door. The sun was far to the west, and the sky above forever clear. To Ruby Dee, Oklahoma had the most beautiful evenings in the world. Of course, she had never been anywhere else. She didn’t much care to go.

  Will had brought the Galaxie up into the shade of the elm and put the top down for her. Turning, she saw him over at the training pen, saddling the mustang. Every morning or evening, Will worked that horse for at least an hour. Sally was there, too, lying in shade. She wagged her tail as Ruby Dee came but didn’t bother to get up.

  Carefully, Ruby Dee climbed up on the tall fence. Will gave her a small nod and swung into the saddle. She thought she detected a spark of male admiration when he looked at her, but she couldn’t be certain. Not being certain was disappointing.

  “He’s sure gettin’ quiet,” she said, and nodded at the horse.

  “He’ll do,” Will said.

  His steely-blue eyes met hers, and then his gaze slid over her. She thought she saw a flicker of male interest...but only a flicker, and it was quickly gone, hidden behind indifference.

  “Thank you for seeing to the Galaxie. Thank you for takin’ care of me, Will Starr.”

  His gaze met hers. “No problem,” he said.

  “Your daddy’s in the kitchen, watchin’ television and workin’ with his leather.”

  A few seconds went by before he said, “I’ll check on him.”

  “You might want to just holler at him from the door. I don’t want to come home and find one of you killed the other. Could be you that’s dead—Hardy’s laid up, but he’s strong.”

  He grinned in the way that had become familiar—a twitching of his lips and a flicker in his eyes—and tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be good.”

  She climbed off the fence and headed away, then stopped and came back. He watched her the whole time, quietly, sitting there on the horse. “Do you suppose I could ride sometime? I haven’t ridden in a long time, but I do know how.”

  “Okay. Let me have time to tune a horse up for you.”

  “I can ride pretty good. You don’t have to worry.”

  He didn’t say anything to that.

  She headed to h
er car, feeling his gaze on her every step of the way. When she casually looked back, he was still sitting there, atop the horse, watching her.

  Sally came running and jumped over into the seat. Ruby Dee slapped her brown hat on her head and headed the car down the drive, waving at Will as she passed. Dust billowed up behind, and she ignored it and flew over the ruts of the drive and the washboard of the dirt road all the way to the state blacktop. She turned north, away from Harney and toward Woodward, an hour’s drive through rolling grassland.

  It was a wonderful evening for riding in a convertible, but Ruby Dee wished she weren’t alone. She talked to Miss Edna some: “Isn’t this beautiful country? Why didn’t we ever come out this way on our drives? It’s higher up here, isn’t it? I think I’ll get some house plants at the Walmart. You know I gave all of yours to Mrs. Gleason, all except the philodendron in the little boot. I kept it. The Starr house could sure use some plants.”

  At the Walmart, she bought a new Revlon lipstick and fingernail polish to match. From the book section, she chose a Louis L’Amour western and a big splashy one by an author named Johnny Quarles, because it took place in Oklahoma. She thought Hardy might especially enjoy that one. For herself she got a new western romance by Genell Dellin. Maybe she’d even read it to Hardy. It might do him good.

  Over in the garden shop, she picked up a big green peace plant, a deep blue African Violet and a lovely cactus garden made up in a painted terracotta dish. On her way out, she went by the lingerie section and happened upon a good sale. She bought three sets of panties and matching bras. She had a real weakness for colorful lingerie. Near the checkout there was a display of packaged socks, and she bought some for Will and Lonnie. Theirs were getting awfully ragged.

  Afterward she stopped at the IGA and picked up some canned staples and packages of chicken, chips and Coca-Cola on sale. She kept a little cooler in the car, in which she put the chicken to keep it from spoiling in the heat.

  Over at the Sonic drive-in, she got a corn dog and cherry-limeade. Whoever made her cherry-limeade put six real cherries in it. She sat there, fishing them out and plucking them off the stems, while young teens drove by, admiring her Galaxie. That was fun, but it made her feel lonely.