[Dakotah Treasures 01] - Ruby

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Oh, did you see that?” Opal’s eyes were as round as her mouth.

  While his fish flopped around, the captain motioned to Opal. “Get your line out there, the next fish is yours. Miss Torvald, you can’t catch fish unless you throw your line into the water.”

  Ruby tossed out her line, enjoying the circles waving out. She turned to look at Opal’s shriek and missed her own cork go under. But she felt the tug on her line and automatically jerked it. The fish flew up, missed the captain’s head by inches, and landed with a resounding smack.

  “I nearly got kissed by a fish there. Better watch out for the two of you.”

  Ruby clung to her pole. I caught a fish! She wanted to whoop like Opal, but whooping was definitely not on the list of ladylike things to do. So she giggled instead.

  “Come on, you got to take the hook out of the fish’s mouth so you can fish again.”

  Ruby stopped all forward motion. She watched as McHenry showed Opal how to grasp the fish in one hand and slip the hook out with the other. Then he strung a line through the gill and tied the line to a stake he stuck in the bank, sliding the tethered fish back in the water.

  “That’s to keep them cool so they don’t spoil before we head back to town. Unless you’d like to cook them out here. I brought fire starter.”

  “I think I’d rather take them back for everyone to enjoy.”

  Ruby shuddered as Opal threaded another worm on her hook and returned to the riverbank. She turned back to catch the captain staring at her.

  “What?”

  “Do you know, Miss Torvald, how lovely you are?”

  Ruby wished she could pull her hat down to cover the fire burning up her face. “Th-thank you.” Catching her breath took a moment. Now she didn’t dare even look at him. Oh, my. What do I say now?

  “Would you like to fish again?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you bait the hook?”

  She shook her head, accompanied by a shiver that ran clear to her fingertips.

  Another of Opal’s fish flopped at their feet. Ruby stepped back so it wouldn’t smack her boots. She took the rebaited pole offered and returned to her rock.

  Within an hour they had three strings of fish. The captain dismantled their poles while Ruby set out the sandwiches, cookies, and a jug of water from the saddlebag.

  “Not very fancy I’m afraid, but I was really planning on having fried fish.”

  “I had no idea we would catch so many so fast.” Ruby unwrapped her sandwich. The first bite told her how famished she was. “Are there other places like this for fishing?”

  “You can catch fish about anywhere on the river and in most creeks, but this is one of my favorite spots. Sometimes if you are real quiet in the early morning or the evening, you can see deer come down to drink. I’ve seen fox and coyote. And cattle too.”

  “You ever see any buffalo?” Opal swallowed quickly when Ruby caught her talking with her mouth full.

  “I’ve seen them, but there aren’t very many anymore.”

  “Indians?”

  “Of course, but they’re on the reservations now.”

  “See out there on the water where the circles are?” He pointed toward the middle and slightly upriver where the water eddied and quieted below the rocks. “That’s a fish come up for a bug.”

  “They’re hungry, huh?”

  “They sure are, especially in the spring like this. They hide on the bottom of the deep pools during the winter.”

  “All winter without eating?”

  “That’s right.”

  Ruby picked up a piece of wood and tossed it into the water to watch it float downstream. One of their fish on the string flopped, tail flapping the water. A horse stamped and snorted.

  How easy it would be to lean back against the log, close her eyes, and let the sun soak deep into her bones.

  The voices seemed to come from afar off.

  “Miss Torvald!”

  “Ruby.”

  She blinked to find both Opal and the captain staring at her. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, but we need to get going before you two get sunburned out here.”

  “You fell asleep,” Opal whispered.

  Sunburn or not, her face flamed again, and she scrambled to her feet.

  “When the water warms up, this is a good place to go swimming.” Captain McHenry finished packing his saddlebags and turned to smile at Ruby. “You know how to swim?”

  She shook her head.

  “You could learn.”

  “I—I—we better be getting back, like you said.” Substituting a convenient log for the mounting block made getting into the saddle easier than she expected.

  Captain McHenry handed her one string of fish. “Loop it over the front of your saddle or tie it to one of those rings.” He waited while she looped it in place. “Good. You two are quite the fisherwomen.”

  After Ruby had dismounted back at Dove House, this time with somewhat relative ease, the captain said, “I’ll be leaving on patrol again in a couple of days. I hope you had a good time.”

  “We had more than a good time. We had an adventure we’ll never forget.” Ruby nodded toward the three strings of fish he’d handed to Charlie, who immediately set to cleaning them for supper. “I should be back before Opal’s birthday. Perhaps we can ride again?”

  “I’d be pleased. Thank you, Captain. You made one little girl happy beyond measure.”

  “And her older sister?”

  Ruby looked up at him from under her hat brim. “Why, Captain, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me.” As if I know what flirting is.

  “Would that be such a terrible thing?” His voice deepened.

  Surely just getting off the horse wouldn’t speed up her heart rate so. “Good-bye, Captain McHenry. I hope you have a good trip.” She dropped her voice. “And that you get back in time for Opal’s birthday.” If she took the steps a bit faster than necessary, it wasn’t because she was running away—at least that’s what she told herself. When she entered the kitchen and caught Cimarron watching her with one eyebrow cocked and a knowing smile, her face flamed yet again.

  “Must have been too much sun.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Chaps wiped his mustache clean with the back of his hand as they sat around the table replete with the stew and biscuits Beans had made. “Saw a carcass out there, or what was left of one after the vultures took their fill.”

  “How many with other brands?”

  “Oh, ten, fifteen.”

  “The men from the other ranches will be here day after tomorrow for the branding.”

  “The steers look pretty good for so early in the season.” Chaps dug at something caught in his teeth.

  “Winter wasn’t bad.” Rand looked to Joe. “You see any sign of predators?”

  “Only that one I told you. Might be some missing, but we won’t know that till the branding’s all done.”

  “Turner said the Indians took some of his.” Beans looked up from sopping the last of the juice off his plate with a biscuit half.

  “If they’d let ’em off the reservation to hunt elk and deer, the Indians might not take the beef.” Joe pushed his tin plate back.

  “Well, if the beef range on Indian land, they got a right to take ’em, far as I can see.”

  “So how you gonna tell a cow, ‘There’s the line. Don’t go no further’?” Chaps shook his head. “ ’Course, why don’t the Indians range their own cattle?”

  Rand poured himself more coffee and raised the pot. The others shook their heads. “Because they’re hunters, not farmers.”

  “You wasn’t a rancher before you came out here, was you?”

  “Nope.”

  “So if you could learn, why can’t they?”

  “Good question, and I’m sure if the government could figure that out, it might make some difference.” Rand tossed the last of his coffee grounds out the door. “Chaps, you take first watc
h. I’ll do second. Joe, you take the last tonight. Beans, you watch what we already brought in during the day, and tomorrow keep ’em from heading out again.”

  “Sure, Boss.”

  Joe stood and stretched. “Guess I’ll get me some shut-eye.” He ambled out the door toward the bunkhouse.

  Chaps followed him to go saddle his horse, and Rand leaned against the doorframe. The cry of nighthawks hunting bugs in the starlit sky, the lowing of cattle as they settled down for the night, and the whisper of wind in the pine tree by the front porch sang of evening, a song that called to his very soul. Other than sunrise, this was his favorite time of the day.Work was done and the world was settling down for rest. The clatter of tin dishes as Beans washed them up blended with all the other night sounds.

  Shame he didn’t have someone special to share all of this with. The thought brought on another. Would he ever?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They had set out again at first light, ranging farther in all directions, and after finding another fifty head of cows, Rand headed home to add them to the herd in the valley.

  He’d just unsaddled Buck when a riderless horse galloped up to the other side of the river and splashed through.

  “Hey, that’s the horse Chaps was riding today!” Beans yelled from the porch.

  “Saddle up.” Rand swung his saddle off Buck and headed for the corral to catch another horse. When Chaps’s horse came to a halt at the corral gate, Rand caught him and stripped off the saddle before sending him out in the corral.

  Within a few minutes he and Beans, saddled up and leading a spare horse, headed back across the river. As they reached the western bank they met Joe and his cattle coming down the draw.

  “You seen Chaps?” Rand yelled to be heard over the cattle.

  “Nope, not since this morning. Why?”

  “His horse came back without him.”

  “You want me to help look for him?”

  “No. Stay with the herd.”

  As soon as they topped the butte, Rand stopped. “One shot means he’s okay, two we need help.”

  “Okay.” They kicked their horses into a gallop and spread out.

  Every so often Rand stopped to holler for Chaps, listened, then picked up the pace again, watching for any sign that Chaps had been this way today. He saw a pile of horse manure from the day before, cow pies crusted over, all signs of the herd from yesterday.

  “Chaps! Can you hear me?”

  Dusk blurred the landscape. He rode on.

  Hoping for a miracle, fearing a tragedy, he stopped to call again.

  “Here.” The voice was faint.

  “Where?” Joy leaped as did the horse at the prod of spurs. Rand scanned the terrain, called again, and waited for an answer. The voice had been faint. He rode forward a hundred yards and, hand cupping his mouth, called again, “Keep hollering.”

  “Here.”

  While the voice was louder now, no matter how slowly he scanned the terrain, he couldn’t see Chaps anywhere.

  The next time he called, the voice came from slightly behind him. “Where in—?”

  “The tree!”

  One cottonwood tree stood higher than those around, but even as he drew closer, Rand saw no sign of his hand. “Chaps?”

  “Over here. I’m tied behind the tree.”

  Now Rand could see the rope that banded the tree. He rode on up and dismounted, shaking his head as he stepped on the ground. “What happened to you?”

  “How’d you know to come lookin’ for me?”

  “Your horse came home without you.”

  “I knew I liked that horse. Some sidewinder said he was hurt and asked if I would help, but when I dismounted, he conked me one, and I woke up tied to this tree. He and my horse were gone.”

  Rand took out a knife, but Chaps shook his head. “No, don’t cut the rope. It’s my lariat. You can untie it, can’t you?”

  “If I hadn’t come along, you woulda been buzzard bait.” Rand used the point of his knife to dig the knot loose.

  “You ain’t tellin’ me something I don’t know. How I let myself get into a fix like this . . . If’n I ever see that varmint again, I’ll make sure he can’t walk for a long time, if ever.” With the upper rope loosened he shook his arms free and helped Rand finish the job.

  “Thank God, I found you.”

  “Been doin’ that ever since I heard your voice. Something like this tends to make a believer outa even as tough a cowpoke as me.”

  Rand pulled his rifle from the scabbard and shot once in the air. He handed Chaps his canteen for a long drink, and the two of them mounted up to head on home.

  “You ever seen the man before?”

  “No, but he looked like he hadn’t seen civilization for some time. Squinty-eyed, he was, on the left side, and had a cough that didn’t sound too good.”

  “Did he say why he was on foot?”

  “Thought he had a broken leg, but he sure turned spry real quick as soon as I got off my horse. Thanks, Boss.”

  “Yeah, well, couldn’t afford to lose a good man, not right before branding.”

  Chaps barked a laugh.

  “How many cows did you have?”

  “Had eighteen, twenty head. They all scattered. I’ll set out in the morning and bring ’em in.”

  Ruby watched as Frank Vine and his brother finished loading the three pack horses.

  “I told you to bring only what you needed, you . . .” His words that followed turned Ruby’s cheeks red. It seemed Frank couldn’t say three words without swearing, no matter who was around.

  “I only brought one bag,” the taller of the three easterners said, handing a tooled-leather valise to Frank’s brother to tie on.

  “I meant the size of a saddlebag.” Frank stamped around as if he were doing the world a favor by taking these men out. But Ruby knew they were paying handsomely for the privilege.

  She handed Frank the last packet of food, including the rolls that the men had pleaded for.

  “Should just tie it on their backs. Never seen so much useless gear. Had to teach ’em to ride first. Most likely will have to tie up the buffalo so they can hit it.”

  At his last muttered comment, Ruby had covered her mouth behind her hand to keep from snickering. If what she’d heard about the riding lessons was true, she had done better in the saddle than the short paunchy one who had told her he knew of Mr. Brandon. And she wasn’t heading out across the prairie in search of buffalo.

  “You might say an extra prayer for us, Miss Torvald,” the taller of the three said. “Frank says we have to watch for rattlesnakes too. Life is certainly different out here than in New York City, but I expect you know that far better than we do.”

  Ruby nodded, his request sending a pang of guilt right through her. How long had it been since she or Opal had read their Bible verses or prayed or written to the Brandons? Since she was young, because Bestemor had insisted, she’d read her Bible daily, and prayer had become as natural as breathing. But out here . . . She sighed and shook her head. How could time get away so fast and the work be so continuous that such important things went by the wayside? What did she intend to do about it? And what could she give Opal for her birthday?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They had the fire burning hot in the morning when four men rode in from the Ox and the Triple Seven ranches and laid their branding irons in the fire along with the two from the Double H.

  Soon as everyone had downed a cup of coffee from the pot steaming off to the side of the fire, the men mounted up and rode easy into the herd to rope a calf and bring it, bawling and fighting, to the fire. One of the hands would reach over the calf’s back, grab a flank and front shoulder, throw the calf to the ground, and pin it with one knee to the neck while another hand shoved the white-hot brand against the calf’s haunch. The stench of burning hair and flesh filled the air, and the calf was allowed up again. Once the rope was removed from its neck, it was released so it could run back to its frant
ic mother.

  The team settled into a rhythm of roping, dragging, flanking, slapping on the brand, then letting the cow and calf head on out to pasture again as soon as they were finished.

  Rand roped a calf and started him back to the fire, but this time its mother followed right along. “Hey, chase that old lady away,” he yelled at one of the other riders.

  “Sure enough.” The rider came in and swung his rope to haze the cow off, but she dodged around him and headed for the branding pit.

  One of the men from another ranch had just flanked the calf when the cow made a beeline for him. Seeing the cow charge, he leaped to his feet, the calf scrambled to escape, and Rand swung the brander up behind him on the horse.

  Another rancher chased the cow off, and they started all over again. The brander tipped the calf on its side, the calf bawled, and the cow came after him again.

  “You fools, quit laughing and get in here to help me.” The brander ran for a horse again as the cow, shaking her rack of horns as if she would skewer him, dodged around the horse and came for her calf that was, of course, back on his feet and running toward her.

  “She been at this too long!” someone shouted.

  “Will one of you rope her so we can get this calf branded?” The man slid back off the horse, picked up the branding iron he’d dropped in the dirt, and stomped over to ram it back in the fire. “If you fools think it’s so funny, you come work this end, and I’ll ride the horse.”

  “Shame letting that old cow get the better of you.” Beans looked up from adding wood to the fire, keeping the coals hot enough to heat the brands.

  “Keep it up and I’ll—”

  “That’s the trouble with you Ox hands, no sense of humor.”

  “Ready to try again?” Rand crossed his arms on the saddle horn, the calf still on the end of his rope but standing next to his mother, who hadn’t quit alternating between sniffing her calf and raising her head to eye the riders. She shook her horns as if daring them to try again.