Feeling she had more questions than answers, she washed up their few dishes and set the kettle on the stove to heat water for tea. Thanks to Mrs. Klaus’s provision she could at least enjoy a good cup of tea. But maybe there was tea in the storeroom. Did people drink tea out here in the West?
With her cup in hand, she and Opal made their way back to the room they’d first entered upon their arrival at the hotel. Raucous laughter and the song of a hard-used piano played a backdrop all the time, sometimes swelling louder, then almost quiet but never silent.
They set a kerosene lamp on a table in the middle of the room and, starting in the right-hand corner, set to exploring. They found whiskey, sugar, flour, other staples, more bottles with corks, a box of glasses, one of candles, two broken-down chairs, and boxes that she didn’t take time to look in.
Opal dusted off her hands. “Dirty, that’s for sure. Mrs. Brandon would make us all help clean this place like she did the attic, but I still don’t think cleaning up a mess builds character.”
“Be that as it may, we will be cleaning so we know what is here and what we need. Come on. Right now we need to look upstairs.” Together they mounted the backstairs, and when Opal glanced with longing at the other stairs that led down to the saloon, Ruby steered her on around the corner and down the hall.
The door to her father’s room was closed, so she tapped on it before entering.
“What a mess.” Opal stared around the room. “Doesn’t she know how to put her things away?”
“I think Belle was distraught.” Ruby remembered the look on her father’s face when her mother died, like the life had gone right out of him. But then, as Mrs. Brandon once said, grief attacks some folks differently than others.
“Let’s try to be real nice to Belle, help her through her grieving.”
“I guess.” Opal fingered an ostrich feather that curved over the center of the three-paneled screen. “I don’t think Belle likes us much.”
Ruby pulled out the second drawer of the tall chest drawer and felt under it. Nothing. But when she pulled the drawer all the way out and felt behind it, sure enough, there was another envelope there. She quickly pulled it loose and stuck it in her pocket, ever mindful that Belle could come in any minute. She quickly looked around to determine where the ledgers might be stored. No matter that this was her father’s room, she felt like a sneaky thief. Should she take her father’s things out of the room? No, that was a wife’s duty. Wasn’t it? Should I be kind and clean up the mess? She sighed.
Yes, they should be kind. After all, Belle had taken care of their father. But she was Per’s wife, wasn’t she? So of course she should have taken care of him.
The thoughts dove and zipped around her mind like bees on the attack.
Far as she knew, Belle had not slept in here since Per’s death. So . . .
“Help me fold these things and put them away. Then we’ll scrub the bed and remake it if Milly has the laundry done.”
“I saw her take stuff out back where there’s a big pot on a fire. You think we have to wash our clothes that way?” Opal stroked the underthings she was folding. “These sure feel pretty.”
“Humph. You hang up the dresses, and I’ll do that. Put them in that armoire.”
“But Papa’s clothes are in here. How come they have such fancy clothes?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Ruby lifted a pile of drawers, camisoles, and petticoats off the top of the screens. Who’d ever heard of unmentionables being black silk? With so much lace they had a life of their own. And that life did not want to be imprisoned in the remaining drawer space. She smashed the rioting masses down and slammed the drawer.
“There aren’t enough hangers.”
“Then put the remainder on hooks.” Ruby stared around the room, looking for a row of pegs or hooks along the walls. “There must be some in the armoire.”
“I can’t even see in there.”
Ruby made a sound of disgust or frustration, the two emotions being so intertwined it was hard to tell the difference, and joined her little sister in front of the carved walnut doors that hung wide open and looked to never making it closed.
“See?”
Ruby huffed a sigh. “You sure Far’s clothes are in there?”
“In the back.”
“If we push them in, they’ll be all wrinkled.” Visions of the closet space at the Brandons’ shot her with a pang of homesickness. She fingered a wine watered-silk dress and frowned at the stains along the hem and the lace at the sleeve hanging loose. Belle might have beautiful things, but they wouldn’t last long without better care.
“What won’t fit in there we will leave draped over the screen. At least things look tidier.” Her gaze kept returning to the bed where her father had drawn his last breath. How long had he been bedridden? She followed an urge to draw back the velvet drapes and open the windows. This room needed a good airing. The rugs begged for a beating and the floor a scrubbing. Near as she could tell, the entire place needed housecleaning from top to bottom. Who would do that?
Milly, the chambermaid, looked to have her hands full already. Ruby stared down at her own, fingers spread. Capable hands, she had always called them, with fingers squared off, palms broad, not lovely and tapered like her mother’s, but with a notable lack of calluses.
“Aren’t we done now?”
“I guess so.” They made for the doorway only to meet Belle coming in.
“What are you doing in my room?” Belle, hands on hips, arms akimbo, took up the doorway.
“Cleaning it up some, looking for the ledgers Father said were here.” She laid a hand on Opal’s shoulder to keep her quiet.
“How do you know—” Belle cut off her sentence. She took a step forward, her eyes slitting. “I’m telling you only once, stay out of my things.”
“We were only trying to—”
Ruby tightened the hand on her sister’s shoulder, cutting off her words. “If you will tell me then where the ledgers are.”
“Don’t know. Suppose Charlie has ’em.”
“I see.”
“How’d you know about the ledgers?”
“My father’s letter.”
“Oh.” Belle slumped slightly, then gathered herself for the attack. “You two better be thinkin’ on leavin’ soon. After all, this is my place now, and I got no truck for freeloaders.”
“But, Ruby. . . .” Opal stopped at the look on her sister’s face and the pinch at her shoulder.
Ruby wanted to duck and run. But instead she pulled herself up by sheer will. “I will read my Father’s final letter to everyone this evening.”
“No way can we close the doors this evening, nor any evening. Men around here expect Dove House to be open for business, and open it will be.”
“Surely they can go without drinking for one night.”
“Honey, it ain’t only the drinkin’ that pays the bills here.”
“But there are no meals—”
“ ’Course not. We got the best doves in the county. That’s what brings the men in.”
“Doves?”
“You know, us workin’ girls. You’re welcome to join us.” Belle’s laugh hooted her derision. “Dress you up in some color, you might not look too bad.” She reached over and fingered Ruby’s cream waist with leg of mutton sleeves. “Not this drab—”
Ruby jerked back as if stung by a wasp. “I’ve been working all my life, or most of it, and . . .”
She slowed to a stop when Belle burst out laughing as if she’d just heard the funniest joke of her life. She waved to a man coming out of the room across the hall.
If Ruby remembered right, that was the room belonging to Cimarron, the redhead. Whatever was he doing in her room?
“See here, Slade, these two youngsters are Per’s daughters. You think the older there could be a workin’ gal?”
He finished tucking his shirt into his pants as he studied Ruby.
Ruby wanted to clap her hands over Opal’s ear
s and eyes and hustle them both from his scrutiny. She’d read once how men inspected the slaves in the south before they bought one. Right now she was sure she knew how they felt.
“Ah, Belle, honey, she most likely could if’n you took her under your wing and made a real woman out of her.” He dodged the elbow Belle aimed at his ribs and ambled on down the hall, his laughter floating over his shoulder.
“We shall discuss this later.” Ruby glanced down at Opal, who had yet to close her mouth, and back to Belle, hoping her sister got the message.
“Anytime, honey. Anytime.”
Why did the glint in Belle’s eyes make her doubt the sweetness of her words? Honey. Cloying sweetness but made by bees with a real sting. What had her father said about Belle’s principles?
“I better get on back to work. Someone needs to start dealing down there before a fight breaks out. Hard collecting for the broke-up tables and chairs and such when a brawl cuts loose.”
Ruby snapped her mouth closed. “They have brawls in Dove House? Down there?” Ruby clamped her hands on Opal’s shoulder. “Excuse us, please.” She’d mind her manners no matter what.
“Of course.” Belle stepped aside to let them pass and chuckled as she entered her room.
“What was she talking about, Ruby?” Opal plopped down on the edge of their bed. “I really don’t think she likes us at all.” She rubbed her chin with one finger, a motion Ruby remembered their father doing. “But then, I don’t think I like her much either. Charlie is nice and so is Cimarron.”
“How do you know that?”
Opal shrugged.
“Opal . . .”
A crash sent them both running to the window to see a man take a header from the porch of Dove House and out into the street. He lay in the muddy ruts for what seemed like forever.
“You think he’s dead?”
The young girl headed for the door. Ruby missed Opal’s shoulder, but caught her pinafore. “No, Opal, you may not go down and check his mustache. Stay right here.”
“But, Ruby, I . . .” Opal’s lower lip stuck out, but she returned to watch at the window, arms locked across her chest.
Ruby fought to keep herself from charging down the stairs. Far as she could see, there was no blood, and she’d not heard a gunshot. “Oh, Lord above, I hope not.” She felt her heart hammering in her throat.
The man finally pushed himself to his knees and staggered to his feet, swaying as if the ground shook beneath him.
“He looks hurt bad.”
Or drunk. Ruby couldn’t remember ever seeing a person sway like that unless they were terribly sick. Vomiting did that to one or a bad case of la grippe. Or getting hit on the head real hard. Did any of those things apply to the man below?
He reached down, stumbled forward, picked up his hat, and slapped it against his leg before settling it back on his head and striking off to what constituted the remainder of the town.
Ruby closed her eyes. Lord, what have we gotten into here? Is all of this indeed your will for us? Or are we wandering in some desert? She shoved her hands in her apron pockets and felt the envelopes she’d hidden there. Her father’s letter and his will and testament in the left and the envelope of money in the right.
They couldn’t just stay in their room. She had to find the ledgers and make some sense of all this. But when she thought of leaving Opal in the room alone, she almost laughed.
What would Mrs. Brandon do in a situation like this?
Mrs. Brandon would never be in a situation like this. Ruby most certainly agreed with that thought. Think, Ruby, think. What is it I must do first? Crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head? Take the gold piece Mrs. Brandon gave us and buy return tickets to New York City? After all, what was keeping them here? She could just take the money in the envelope and call that their inheritance.
“Take care of the girls.” Her father’s voice rang in her ears. “You promise?” And she had. She had given him her word that she would see to the girls. But if one of “the girls” was Belle, she certainly didn’t want or need any caring for, and it didn’t look like the others did either. Except for Milly, the chambermaid, who didn’t look old enough or strong enough to be taking care of anyone.
“Ruby, I’m hungry.”
“All right. Let’s go prepare something for supper.” She started to put the envelopes in one of their carpetbags but stopped when she remembered how her father’s room looked when she and Opal went searching for the money. But surely no one would come in our room. You are getting far too suspicious.
Ha. She made sure the envelopes were secure in her deep pockets and guided Opal ahead of her out the door, a door to which, while it had a lock, she had no key. She’d ask Charlie where to find it when she saw him.
“Ah, Milly?”
“Yes, miss?”
They’d met her just going into Per’s room with fresh sheets and a quilt in her arms.
“Do you want some help with that?”
“What?” Milly stared around, then glanced from the bundle in her arms to Ruby. “I’m just going to make up the bed like Belle told me. I washed everything real good.”
“I’m sure, but an extra set of hands always makes a job easier.”
“You would help me?” If dumbfounded had a look, the girl wore it.
“Why not?” Ruby reached for the quilt, a lovely crazy quilt done in velvets, with intricate overstitching. The jewel tones glowed in the light from the lamp on the hall wall.
“Opal, you put on the pillowcases.” She turned to Milly. “Do you usually iron these first?”
“Iron pillowcases?”
“I see.” Life had indeed been different at the Brandons’. She went on around the bed so as to let Milly set the pace. Together they spread and tucked the sheets before Ruby asked another question. “How long have you been working here?”
“Two years or so.”
They smoothed the top sheet in place.
“Do you have any idea how long my father and Belle were married?”
“Married?”
Ruby stopped in centering the quilt and stared across the bed at the young woman. “Yes.”
“They wasn’t married. Belle talked about it some, but . . .” She shook her head and jerked on the quilt.
Not married? So that’s what Charlie was hinting about. Ruby kept from looking at Opal, who she was sure had plenty of questions. “I see.” Perhaps that explained some of her father’s comments in the letter.
“But my Papá’s clothes and Belle’s things are—”
“Opal.”
“But—”
“That is enough.” Ruby came around the end of the bed and took her sister by the arm. “We’ll be in the kitchen making supper, Milly. Please come down as soon as you finish here.”
“Ah, there you are, Miss Torvald.” Charlie greeted her with a smile when she entered the kitchen. “I have someone who wants to pay his respects.”
“Oh, well, of course.” Ruby’s hands automatically went to smooth back the tendrils of hair, and she wished she had glanced in a mirror before coming down.
The door swung open and Charlie ushered in the officer she had seen at the graveside.
“Miss Torvald, Captain Jeremiah McHenry.”
Even in the dim light from the kerosene lamp, his buttons gleamed as if lit from within. She followed the button trail upward to a cleft chin and a smiling mouth bracketed by deep grooves. His hazel eyes smiled easily, the lines radiating from the edges, a mute testimony to a man that saw far distances and enjoyed the journey.
“Miss Torvald, I just wanted to offer my personal condolences on your father’s death. I know coming here must be a shock, and I hope you will let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay easier.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your offer. My sister and I have a great deal to become accustomed to here.”
“Do I take it that you will be staying?”
“For a time, anyway. Would you like t
o sit down?” Ruby glanced toward the table to see Opal standing just inside the door to the staircase. “Captain McHenry, this is my sister, Opal.”
“I’m glad to meet you too, miss.” He turned back to Ruby. “Remember, if there is anything I can do to—”
“Do you have horses?” Opal crossed to stand by her sister.
“Why, yes. At least I have access to army horses. Why?”
“Opal has always wanted to ride and was hoping she could while we are here.”
“Now that is an easy wish to grant. As soon as we return from patrol, I will bring a horse for you to ride.”
“You really will?” Hero worship wrapped Opal’s sigh in awe.
“Yes.” He turned back to Ruby. “If you will excuse me now, I need to return to the cantonment.”
“Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” He clicked his heels and, with a slight bow, left via the swinging door that led to the saloon.
“Opal, that was not very mannerly.”
“But he said to ask if there was something he could do, and so I did.” Opal squared her shoulders. “I said please and thank you.”
“That you did. Let’s see what we can find for supper.” Perhaps one of us will get a wish come true out of this . . . this . . . She couldn’t think of an adequate word.
Ignoring the sounds from the saloon, Ruby found a bag of potatoes and set Opal to peeling them while she sliced some of the ham she had discovered in the pantry. When Milly joined them, Ruby set her to making biscuit dough.
“Who does the cooking here?”
“Mostly me and Charlie.”
“And the others?”
“By the time they take care of themselves and their clothes and things, there ain’t a lot of time left. That’s what your pa hired me for, and that’s all he hired me for.”
“I see.” But she didn’t see at all.
When supper was ready, the three of them sat down to eat.
“What about the others?”
“I usually leave some things out, and they help themselves when they want.”
“I see.” I’m beginning to sound like an echo. What is going on here?
“Do you have a horse?” Opal looked up from cutting her potatoes.
[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby Page 8
