[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I know you do, Charlie, and I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am. We couldn’t manage without you.”

  “Thank you. We might have more customers soon. I talked to one of the drummers heading west, and he said he’ll pass on the information. Rumor on the line was that Dove House was closed up permanent-like, so I told him different. Got a new sign up too.”

  “And the garden plot spaded up?”

  “Not all of it but enough to get more seeded. Cimarron’s been making noodles to go with the venison roast. And Milly is doing the biscuits. We’ll put out a good spread, not like fancy hotels back east, but if they aren’t happy, they can try down to Mrs. McGeeney. Three in a room and no clean sheets. Or sleep on the floor at Williams’.”

  “Why, Charlie, you make a right good salesman.”

  “Now for the bad news.”

  Ruby sighed. “Why would I ever think we could have all good news in one day?” She glanced down at her clothing. “Tell me what it is so that I can go change before I help with supper.”

  “We got a letter from the mercantile in Dickinson.”

  “Letter or a bill?”

  “Since it was addressed to you, I thought I better not open it. No way it can be good though. We owe them a lot of money.”

  “I know.” She took the letter and slit it open with her fingernail. Unfolding the sheet, she read swiftly, then went back to the top to read it aloud.

  “Dear Miss Torvald,

  “I am sorry to be forced to these desperate measures, but unless I receive a sizable payment on your account by the end of May, we will be forced to operate on a cash-only basis. I hate to lose the business of Dove House, but with the changes you have implemented, we believe that your hotel will soon be bankrupt.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Boyd Rumsford,

  Proprietor”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie. I just don’t know.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Ready to go, Boss.”

  Rand looked up from filling his tin canteen, one of the few useful mementos of his father’s time in the war. Riding the arroyos and buttes looking for cows was a hot and thirsty business even in May. He checked the cinch on his saddle and mounted. Buck waited for the signal and moved forward as Rand gave final instructions to his men.

  “Joe, you and Chaps cross the river. You, Joe, take the south, and Chaps, you go north. Bring in any cows you find. You can leave the steers and heifers out there. Beans, you go north on this side, and I’ll go south.”

  “Sure, Boss, but I got to cook supper too.”

  “I know.” One more hand would sure be a help. Someone to keep the fire going under the stew. “Let’s bring ’em in.”

  He watched as the other three headed out. For the two crossing the river, the river was belly deep on the horses, so the cows and calves would have to swim a short way. However, most of the stock would be on his side of the river. He hoped.

  By the time the sun was straight up, he’d found fifteen cows, only one without a calf. He started them back toward the ranch, riding down into the arroyos, checking out the shade where the cows could lie to chew their cud during the heat of the day. He stopped at a tumbling creek to wet his bandana and give Buck a quick drink. Other than the bellowing of the cows as they called their calves and the laughter of the creek, sounds seemed swallowed up in the immenseness of the prairie. He remounted and swung the loop of his rope to get the now grazing animals moving again. One calf bawled at his mother when she started walking before he finished nursing.

  He heard a rifleshot and waited for the second one of a distress call, but none came. Not like just days earlier when Mrs. Robertson sent out the call and they went to help her find her youngest daughter. The little girl had wandered away, and if it hadn’t been for a snag of blue fabric on a stick, they might not have found her, having tumbled down into a gully as she did. Mrs. Robertson said she was going to put a leash on the girl and tie her to the clothesline for the summer.

  Rand picked up two more head and drove them all into the home valley as the western shadows started to paint the valley floor. Beans had found only eight but carried the carcass of a yearling buck tied behind his saddle, and Joe and Chaps were nowhere in sight. Rand drove the cattle over to the river to drink and then let them spread out and graze. He sat easily on Buck, one leg crooked around the saddle horn as he studied the cows for signs of injuries or illness. With hides varying from red to white to black and all variations of spots in between and their horns lengthening by age, the cows made a good showing against the green of the meadow. By keeping all his heifers, his herd had doubled in the last two years. The Hereford bull he hoped to bring back from Missouri soon would make a big difference in the quality of the steers he would have for market over the next years.

  When he heard whistles and calls from across the river, he rode back down to the bank in case some of the calves needed help. The older cows knew enough to swim downriver from their calves, but the younger ones could easily lose a calf in the current, even lazy as it was.

  “Lookin’ good,” he shouted as Joe and Chaps hupped the cows into the Little Missouri. But sure enough, one calf started drifting downstream, bawling for his mother and half drowning in the effort.

  Rand flipped his loop larger and nudged Buck into the water. Swinging the lariat above his head, he tossed it over the bobbing little red head. His noose landed with a splash, right on target. He tightened the rope and dragged the calf until he got his feet back on the ground. But as soon as the calf could stand, he tried to run for his mother and slammed against the length of the rope. Buck followed the calf so Rand could get close enough to loosen the rope and let the scared little fellow go running back to his mother, who bellowed and shook her horns in her disgust at the rude way her calf had been handled.

  Rand shook his head. “You’ll really be mad day after tomorrow, old girl, so rest up good tonight.”

  “You’re going fishing? Ugh.” Cimarron made a face.

  “Have you ever gone fishing?” Opal stood at the dry sink washing the breakfast dishes while Milly tidied up the rooms of their guests.

  “No, but my brothers used to. You can believe they scaled and cleaned them too—I wouldn’t touch them.”

  “But you like to eat fish?”

  Ruby looked over to her sister. What was going on in that head behind the innocent face?

  “If I go catch the fish, can we say I am repaying you for making my skirt a divided one?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “And if I caught lots of fish, you might be willing to fix another skirt?”

  Cimarron laughed, an unmistakable laugh with half a horse whinny in it. “Opal, you don’t have to pay me for sewing for you. Your sister is doing that.”

  When she can. The thought sent Ruby’s mind off on the track of trying to figure out a way to bring in enough money to stay in business.

  Cimarron glanced out the window overlooking the hen house and garden. “I see Charlie is hard at it. Since you came, Ruby, he’s been going like a barn a’burning.”

  “You mean he wasn’t always this way?”

  “Nope.” Daisy flipped the bread dough over and kneaded from the other side. “He did a garden last year but not with all the hummin’ and whistlin’ I hear goin’ on.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?” Ruby asked.

  “No idea, unless he feels like all of us do. You make us feel needed, even important.”

  “Oh.”

  “Whole place feels different.”

  Yes, it feels empty. But the men had played cards until long after she went to bed and seemed to be having a good time, even without the liquor. Charlie had dealt at the second table.

  Opal took her dishpan to dump the water in the barrel outside. “Charlie is ready to plant, and I’m going to help him.” She clattered the pan onto its nail on the wall behind the stove. “Milly, you want to come help me?”
>
  Milly glanced at Ruby to catch her nod.

  Cimarron watched the girls leap from the porch, calling to Charlie. “You know, I think that Milly likes Charlie.” She raised her brows to indicate her meaning.

  “Nah.” Daisy shook her head as she thumped the bread over again. “He’s too old for her.”

  Ruby looked up from her writing to catch Cimarron’s raised eyebrow. “She’s too young to be interested in men.”

  “She’s fifteen.”

  “But that’s . . .” Ruby stopped to think. Back east Milly would still be a schoolgirl, but out here, she’d heard of girls marrying by fifteen. “You think Charlie realizes it?”

  “Nope, he’s been eyeing me for the last two years.” Cimarron snipped the thread with her scissors. “He hides it well but a couple of times I caught a look in his eyes. Shame, ’cause I don’t feel that way about him at all.” She held her needle up to the window to see the eye better.

  Daisy was silent but was kneading the bread with a little more gusto than Ruby thought was necessary. And Daisy has feelings for him too. Oh, for the wisdom to handle all this.

  Daisy set the bread to rising. “I’ll go clean out that cardroom now. You’d think those men could hit the spittoon more often, wouldn’t you? It’s not like we don’t have enough of them around.” She picked up a bucket, dumped hot water in it, shaved in some soap, and with broom and wash rags, headed out the door.

  Ruby caught the look Daisy daggered at Cimarron. One more place to watch out for trouble. As if money, or the lack thereof, wasn’t enough of a headache.

  At the same moment, the bell tinkled from over the front door.

  “Good morning, Captain,” Daisy greeted.

  “And to you, miss.”

  Ruby rose and followed Daisy out to the dining room. “Good morning, Captain. Would you like a cup of coffee? It will be ready in a minute.”

  “That would be just fine, unless of course there are any of those delicious rolls left.”

  “You make yourself comfortable, and we’ll rustle up something.” My land, she thought, I’m beginning to sound like the others around here. Rustle up, indeed.

  “I hear you have some guests.” He pulled out a chair.

  “Yes, they’re out settling things with Frank Vine. Planning their hunting trip. Does he do that a lot?”

  “Frank does anything that will earn him a dollar.”

  “Are you saying that he is . . . ah . . . shady in his dealings?”

  “You might put it that way.” He laid his hat on the table. “Frank hasn’t let too many scruples grow under his feet. But then, that’s not too unusual for the folks of Little Missouri.”

  “I see.” As she returned to the kitchen she wondered if the captain had included her father in that none too savory assessment. Would Frank Vine have enough money to buy Dove House? Could he be in league with Belle?

  She left Cimarron to serve the captain and hurried upstairs to change, grateful all over again for her soft leather riding skirt and jacket. That she had hat and boots also was certainly providential, even though they came by way of Belle, who had claimed more rent-free days as payment. She dressed quickly and returned to the kitchen.

  “That surely does become you,” Cimarron said, setting the coffeepot back on the stove. She raised her now full cup in salute. “Go forth, have fun, and bring home plenty of fish.”

  Ruby glanced into the dining room where Captain McHenry had made three rolls and two cups of coffee disappear. “I’m ready when you are,” she called out to him.

  “Good, I’ll bring the horses around to the back.”

  Moments later, Opal charged through the door. “The captain’s here.”

  “Yes, so you better go wash your hands.”

  “To go riding?” Opal held up dirt-crusted fingers. “We got worms for fishing too. And I planted the beans.” She ducked around Ruby, sloshed her hands in the pan of soapy water on the reservoir, and hit the door, wiping her hands on her skirt.

  Ruby pulled on her gloves as she went out the door. “Oh, I forgot the picnic.”

  “Not a problem. I brought what we need.” Captain McHenry stepped to the ground in such a fluid, easy motion that Ruby sighed. Would the day ever come that she didn’t feel like a top about to tumble when mounting and dismounting?

  She stopped at the steps. Charlie was setting a box down by the hitching rail. “What’s that?”

  “Your mounting block. It will make getting on and off much easier.”

  “Charlie, you think of everything.”

  “McHenry asked me to build one.” He stood back. “Opal, you want to bring your horse over here? Makes mounting a long sight easier.”

  Opal did as Charlie showed her and was on her horse in a twinkling. “Thanks.”

  Having seen how to do it, Ruby took the reins from the captain, led her horse over to stand in the right spot, stepped up on the block, put her left foot in the stirrup, and with hands only half strangling the saddle, got her leg over the horse’s rump and half sat, half fell into the saddle. But at least she made it with her dignity intact and her legs decently covered.

  “Very good,” said the captain. “Now, I suggest you dismount and mount again. Each time will be easier.”

  “But I . . .” She gave him a disgruntled look and dismounted. The mounting block definitely made a difference. By the third remount, while Opal was being taught to post, Ruby settled in the saddle comfortably. She picked up her reins and, after giving Charlie a pleased wave and smile, nudged her mount forward. Why don’t they make these saddles with some padding? A pillow would be a welcome addition.

  “Comfortable?” Captain McHenry rode up beside her.

  Well, endurable. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good. Let’s go fishing.”

  They rode out along the west bank of the river, following the same trail as the day before. A birdsong rose and danced in the air like the sound of an opera singer practicing her scales.

  “That’s a meadowlark. We have a lot of them around here.” The captain turned in his saddle to tell her. Another answered from across the river. “There, he’s flying. See that flash of yellow?” When he pointed out the bird, Captain McHenry dropped back to ride beside Ruby. “You’ll find lots of new birds out here. You’ve seen the flocks of ducks and geese heading north? They look like long V’s in formation.”

  “I thought I heard quacking.”

  “And honking. That’s the geese. Easy out here to have plenty of goose down for pillows and bedding. You could most likely get one of the local men to hunt anything you’d like. Although I wouldn’t recommend rattlesnake. Some like it, but I don’t much.” He glanced over and chuckled at the look of horror on Ruby’s face.

  “Surely you are teasing me.”

  By the time they’d ridden about a half mile up the river, the captain announced they would stop and fish there. They tied their horses under several cottonwood trees, and McHenry slung his saddlebags over one arm.

  “First thing we need to do is cut three willow branches for poles.” He handed Opal the saddlebags and drew a knife out of the scabbard attached to his belt. Then choosing a long straight branch from willow brush, he cut the first one and handed it to Ruby before cutting the other two. After trimming the branches off them, he handed them around. “There you go. Opal, do you have the worms?”

  “Yes, sir.” She drew a pouch made from one of Charlie’s handkerchiefs out of her pocket. “We gave ’em some dirt so they wouldn’t dry out.”

  Ruby knew Opal was quoting Charlie again. According to her, Charlie knew everything worth knowing about life in the badlands. However, even the thought of carrying a pouch of worms in her pocket made Ruby shiver.

  The captain opened the flap on one of the leather saddlebags and pulled out three corks with a fishhook imbedded in each, a ball of string, and three round peas of lead.

  “What’s that for?” Ruby eyed the lead.

  “The cork is for a bobber and the lead is
a sinker to take the worm down to fish-eye level. Watch.” He pulled some line off the ball of string and tied one end to the top of the pole. About two feet from the other end, he tied the string in the groove cut in the cork. Another eighteen inches down he did the same with the lead, then tied the hook on the very end. “Now, Opal, you do just as I do, and we’ll get the other two ready. In this country you always travel with a hook in a cork and some string, and you’ll never starve to death.”

  “How would you find worms all the time?” Opal was tying her string to the pole as she questioned.

  “Wait. Let me show you a proper knot.” He demonstrated a half hitch and a slipknot, which Opal copied quite deftly on the second attempt. “Very good.”

  “What would you use if you didn’t have worms?” Ruby’s curiosity got the better of her.

  “Oh, grasshoppers, most any bugs, grubs from under rocks. The fish are so thick here I think you could throw out an empty hook and snag something.”

  He took a worm from Opal’s pouch. “Now, you thread it on like this.”

  Ruby turned away.

  “You need to know how.” Opal looked up from copying every move the captain made.

  “I’ll learn that part another time.” Ruby took the pole handed to her.

  “Then you choose a rock to sit on, always watching out for rattlers—”

  “Out here?” Ruby shivered.

  “They like the sun in the spring like this. Snakes are cold-blooded creatures and need a warm rock and the spring sun to get them going.”

  Ruby stared at all the rocks around them. “If I’d known we could see a snake, I’d have stayed at Dove House,” she muttered as she looked for an empty rock to sit on.

  “You sit here, and I’ll show you how to toss your line out.” The captain flipped his line out gently, and the cork landed with a slight plop, sending concentric circles rippling out. “I like fishing in the pools like this. Some like—” His cork disappeared and with a flip of the wrist he jerked the pole and a fish went flying out behind them and landed smack on the bank.