My Heart Belongs in Ruby City, Idaho

by Susanne Dietze

  “Yes. I think it’s best.” Rebecca resumed her schoolmarm pose. There wasn’t a trace left of the blushing bride he’d kissed not ten minutes ago. “Mr. Orr?”

  The justice waved his hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m no judge.”

  “Then let’s find one.” For some reason, Rebecca looked to Tad, not Theodore.

  “He’s in Wyoming for some government meetings.” Tad rubbed his forehead. “Won’t be back for a full month.”

  “July.” Theodore’s head tipped.

  “Then let’s go to another judge. Or to Wyoming.” Rebecca’s lips pressed into a grim line.

  Tad laughed. “Wyoming’s a ways, ma’am. I won’t stand in the way of the annulment, but we’re going to have to be patient.”

  Theodore moved to Rebecca’s side, at last. “I hate to admit it, Miss Rice, but he’s right.”

  “And in the meantime?” Had she looked so stiff when she’d stood by Tad?

  Orr took his hat from the peg by the door and set it atop his head. “I’d better head out but I think I can trust you fellas to see to Mrs. Fordham.”

  “I’ll care for Miss Rice, thank you,” Theodore corrected as Orr took his leave.

  “Why don’t you both call me Rebecca? I think it’s acceptable to use our Christian names under the circumstances.” Engaged to one, married to the other. Tad nodded his agreement but then noticed Rebecca’s pale face. She must be exhausted.

  And hungry. If she’d been on the stage all day, she’d had nothing to eat but cold hog meat and hominy at the station. “Come on, Theodore. Let’s talk this out while we get a warm meal.”

  He’d been not-really-married for only five minutes, but it still felt wrong to let Theodore escort her out the door.

  A fine howdy-do. Rebecca shuddered.

  The gentle beginnings of a cool rain pattered her shoulders as the small party exited out the front of the building, where she turned to catch the sign: COUNTY OFFICES. Under the listings for the JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, SHERIFF, and ASSESSOR was the name T. FORDHAM, DEPUTY.

  If she and Tad had come in through the front, she’d have seen the sign and none of this would have happened.

  They strode three across, back up the street. Pity she hadn’t donned a larger-brimmed bonnet this morning, but she’d wanted to wear the finest of her hats to meet her intended. She stifled the urge to snort. Some story this would make for her brother Johnny, if she found him again. Lovely wedding day, she imagined writing to him. One wee thing. I married the wrong man.

  She’d imagined retiring to the mercantile after the wedding, but now, where was she to go? “Will I stay at the hotel?”

  “I know for a fact it’s full up.” Tad rubbed his brow. “I’ve got an idea, but let’s eat first.”

  She wanted to protest, but the smells of meat, onions, and coffee wafting from the restaurant lured her like a trout to a baited hook. She might not have been able to resist going in if she tried.

  Lit by glass-globed kerosene lamps, the restaurant lacked decor, except for the red-checked tablecloths spread over square tables, a third of which were occupied. Not a single female joined the menfolk sitting for their meals.

  “Deputy and—oo-wee, Mr. Fordham! Both of you together, now, isn’t that a wonder?” A gray-haired woman with a stained apron over her ample midsection waved a dish towel. “Sit on down. Who’s your friend?”

  Theodore held out Rebecca’s chair. “This is Miss Rice, from Missouri. Rebecca, this is Mrs. Croft, owner of Ruby City’s best restaurant.”

  “How do you do, Miss Rice? Hungry for supper?”

  “Oh, yes.” An understatement if she’d ever uttered one. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Croft lumbered off, leaving an awkward silence, and not just at their table. The other customers turned in their chairs to stare. Was it because she was a woman, or did they stare at the feuding cousins, sitting together to dine? Whatever had caused bad blood between Theodore and Tad was deep-rooted, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for them. Curiosity, too.

  But when Mrs. Croft returned bearing a jug of milk and steaming plates of food, Rebecca’s appetite superseded her curiosity. Pot roast, simmered with carrots and potatoes in thick gravy, had never tasted so rich. Tender peas and onions were a mild contrast to the plate of pickles, and the hot yeast rolls warmed her hand and melted in her mouth.

  Be dainty eating. Your intended is watching you.

  And so was her husband. Her gaze caught Tad’s over her milk glass. He looked away before she did, releasing a deluge of embarrassment in her chest. There had been that crackle of something with Tad, and their kiss was—oh, it didn’t matter. He was a deputy. And more important, she’d agreed to marry Theodore. It was he who deserved her attention now.

  She turned toward him. Everything about her fiancé seemed tidy, from the crispness of his starched collar to the way he cut his meat, into precise squares. His mercantile was probably neat, too. In looks, he resembled Tad, although his eyes were rounder, his build softer, and he wasn’t as tall.

  “Are you two the same age?” The question blurted out.

  “Theodore’s eight weeks older.” Tad’s tone was clipped, as if surprised Theodore hadn’t told Rebecca of his existence. “We went through every milestone together, it seems, including the loss of our mothers in a wagon accident when we were four.”

  Rebecca had lost her own mother when she was eight, and she was about to express sympathy when Theodore grunted. “Speaking of regrettable incidents, I behaved poorly earlier. Responding with violence, well, it’s unconscionable. I beg your forgiveness, Rebecca. Tad. I just—it was not what I expected to see when I walked in.”

  His tone turned strained when he said his cousin’s name, but at least he’d apologized for his behavior. Rebecca nodded. “None of us anticipated things to turn out as they did.”

  A handful of men entered the restaurant. From the smell of them, they’d already consumed a quantity of whiskey. One, a good-looking fellow, loudly ordered steaks for the table.

  “We need to decide where you should live until we see the judge.” Tad sat back in his chair, a picture of contentment, except for his fingers, which were tight on his coffee cup. Though he spoke to Rebecca and Theodore, his gaze fixed on an older man whose tiny frame was dwarfed by an enormous gray beard. The fellow’s mouth worked, like he was speaking or chewing, but he was alone and Mrs. Croft had just cleared his plate.

  Tad spared Rebecca a glance. “I think the boardinghouse is just about the only proper option in town.”

  “A boardinghouse.” Rebecca could have clapped. Except—how would she pay for it?

  “Absolutely not.” Theodore glared at Tad. “You live there, and I’ll not let my intended live with you.”

  Rebecca’s supper clustered into an indigestible lump in her stomach. Even the delectable cinnamon smell of the apple pie Mrs. Croft brought to their table didn’t tempt her. God, please let me end this day somewhere safe.

  “Be sensible, Theodore.” Tad’s words might be for his cousin, but his gaze returned to the bearded man across the room. “She needs a decent place to stay for an entire month until Judge Harris returns, and I can’t think of a better spot. Besides, the boardinghouse is full, so she can have my room and I’ll sleep on the cot in the county offices. I could take advantage of Pa being in Idaho City and sleep at the livery, but he’ll be home within the week and I don’t cotton to being relegated to the hayloft when he comes back.”

  Theodore leaned toward her. “You may recall Tad and his father run the livery business that brought them, and my father and me, to Ruby City three years ago.”

  She nodded, but her mind whirled with the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight. The situation was so awkward, though, it was hard to accept Tad’s offer. Theodore seemed none too pleased, either. Still, where else was she to go? She peeked at Tad. “Are you certain I can stay at the boardinghouse? The proprietor won’t mind?”

  “She’ll be delighted to have an
other woman around the place.” Tad chuckled, but then his face fell.

  She recognized the look. Her Pa had worn it far too often. “What is it?”

  Theodore crooked his neck to look behind him. “Bowe Brown is at one table and ‘Longbeard’ Pegg’s at another. They get along like oil and water.” He turned back to his pie.

  Rebecca chewed her lip. Feuds seemed rather frequent in Ruby City. She glanced at each of the fellows. “Does Longbeard have a real name?”

  “Nobody knows it.” Theodore forked another bite. “He doesn’t talk to folks much.”

  Tad dropped his napkin onto the table. “Take her out, Theodore. Quick.”

  “What for?” Theodore’s fork hovered over the pie. “There’s no trouble.”

  “There will be in a minute.” Tad scooted back his chair. “Longbeard isn’t drinking his coffee with his gun hand. I’d say that fight he’s promised Bowe Brown might be brewing tonight.”

  Theodore’s brows knit, but he didn’t move. When Tad stood, Rebecca did, too. If Mr. Longbeard Pegg’s left hand was around his cup, there was only one place for his right hand to be—around a pistol.

  A flash of lightning lit up the dim room, but Rebecca didn’t want to stick around for whichever followed first: thunder, or the report of gunfire.

  “Let’s go, Theodore.” She tugged his sleeve. “Now.”

  She didn’t like the skeptical look in his eyes when he dropped his fork and took her hand, following her out.

  Rebecca hurried to the restaurant exit, stumbling on an uneven patch of flooring. Theodore’s hold on her hand didn’t lessen, nor did he falter in gripping her arms and pulling her upright—

  That wasn’t possible. Theodore couldn’t grasp her fingers and at the same time secure both her arms in his two hands. That meant someone else had hold of her.

  She twisted, coming face-to-face with the object of Longbeard Pegg’s grudge, the one Theodore called Bowe Brown. She wrenched her arms, but he held fast. Green-eyed and young, he had the sort of square-jawed good looks that would make her school friends back in Missouri swoon. But the telltale odor of alcohol seeped through his pores, and the gleam in his eyes seemed more roguish than friendly.

  “Howdy, ma’am.” He grinned as if he were flirting. Or comfortable being on the business end of a gun.

  Neither appealed to her. “Unhand me.”

  His smile didn’t falter. “In a minute. You just stand here in front of me until Longbeard holsters his gun, an’ then we can part ways.”

  Bowe used her as a shield? What a coward.

  This was monstrous. Why didn’t Theodore do something? She followed his gaze, which fixed on Bowe’s free hand, resting over the Arkansas Toothpick sheathed at his waist. It would only take an instant for Bowe to pull the straight blade. So that was why Theodore held still and kept his mouth shut.

  Her supper crawled up her insides.

  She’d wanted a safe haven. Security. No more fear or want. I thought You told me to come to Ruby City, Lord. Well, somebody had been wrong, either her or the Almighty. Her head knew which, but it didn’t stop her weary flesh from accusing Him. You should’ve stopped me, Lord. At least in Missouri, I was safe.

  Well, that wasn’t true. Her safety there was debatable. But at least in Missouri, no one had used her as a buffer against being shot.

  Longbeard boggled, looking at her as if for the first time. “I don’t know you. You’re new.”

  “She sure is.” Tad’s tone was gentle, as if he spoke to a child.

  “Welcome, ma’am.” Bowe squeezed her arm. Oh, this one was trouble.

  “You could welcome me fine from over there a ways.” Rebecca tipped her head toward the far side of the room.

  “I ain’t moving till the deputy tells me Longbeard’s gun is holstered. He won’t shoot me if I’m standing by a pretty lady.”

  Ha. Pa had called her sweet in spirit and face, but she was no beauty. Aside from her crooked bottom teeth, she was too lean and freckled. Her brothers insisted she was built like a bird and speckled as an egg.

  Maybe they didn’t have high standards of attractiveness here in Ruby City.

  “Bowe.” Tad didn’t turn around but kept his gaze fixed on Longbeard—the greater threat, since he seemed to hold a gun under the table. “Let the lady go.”

  “Not yet.” Bowe’s breath was hot on her neck.

  Would he let her go if she stomped on his foot? Every fiber of her being was taut, ready for some action she couldn’t take, caught as she was by Bowe’s firm grasp. Theodore’s grip tightened, too. She felt like the flag tied to a rope’s center in tug-of-war. No matter who yanked the hardest, she’d end up bruised.

  “Do something for me, Longbeard.” Tad held up his hands at the miner with the waist-length beard the color of ash. The peaceful gesture was the one he’d used when facing Theodore at the county offices. “Show us your hands and we can all go home.”

  “Just do it so we can get back to supper.” The proprietress, Mrs. Croft, held a platter to her midsection like a breastplate.

  Longbeard’s watery eyes blinked. “If’n someone shot that ne’er-do-well, the world’d be a better place.”

  Tad inched closer. “And if that someone was you, you know what’d happen.”

  One of Bowe’s friends slashed at his throat with his forefinger.

  “He stole my ma’s fur collar, and now he’s tryin’ to jump my claim.” Longbeard’s waist-length beard wiggled as he spoke.

  “I didn’t steal your stupid, mangy pelt. I borrowed it to see what all the fuss was about with you and that thing, and I can’t help it if the Gang of Four took it when they robbed me.”

  Borrowed, her eye. Rebecca had seen her share of bullies. Bowe no doubt took the collar to upset Longbeard Pegg, who clearly had a strong attachment to it.

  Bowe pulled her closer. “Come to think of it, Longbeard, you should be mad at the deputy over not getting it back yet, not me. And while we’re at it, Fordham, I want back the other stuff that Gang stole from me. An eagle coin and a carte de visite of my dear old ma and grandmammy. Can’t replace that.”

  “They must be proud of you, using a woman as a shield.” Rebecca tugged again.

  “I want my collar back and you off my claim.” Longbeard seethed.

  “I don’t have your collar, and I don’t want your stupid claim,” Bowe insisted. “I walked into it in the dead of night. A body can’t see where he’s goin’ with a new moon. Looked just like my spot.”

  “A fool story.” Spittle flew from Pegg’s mouth.

  Theodore squeezed her fingers. With the hand that didn’t have hold of her arm, he reached behind him, slowly, for the door. All the while Tad crept closer to Longbeard, his motions fluid as a cat’s.

  Tad took another step. “Bowe didn’t dig on your claim, did he?”

  “Not yet.” Venom shot from Pegg’s glare.

  “You’re a simpleton,” Bowe said, laughing.

  Tad’s body was now between the old miner and Bowe. And Rebecca, too. Her heart filled her throat.

  “Why don’t I come out tomorrow with some rope and stakes?” Tad suggested. “We can set up a perimeter around your claim. Then nobody can wander in by mistake.”

  “Sounds fair,” Theodore announced.

  Mrs. Croft harrumphed. “Never thought you’d agree with anything the deputy had to say.”

  A few of the men seated at tables chuckled. Rebecca felt a frown pull at her lips. The feud between the Fordham cousins was grave, indeed.

  But Theodore was right. Tad’s idea was a good one. Simple, effective, and kind. Tad could have overpowered the frail, older Longbeard Pegg, but he’d weighed the cost and determined to try compassion first. Something wasn’t right with Longbeard, and he needed help—she didn’t need to spend more time with the miner to comprehend that. But Tad took it into consideration and found a way to settle the matter peacefully.

  Her opinion of her accidental husband rose.

  After a minute, L
ongbeard nodded. His right hand lifted, revealing a flash of metal in his fist.

  A fork.

  Longbeard hadn’t held a pistol. He’d thought to defend himself against a bully with a utensil.

  A whoosh of breath left Rebecca’s parched lips. Bowe released her arm, and Theodore yanked. They were outside, dashing through sheeting rain, before she could take another breath.

  Gratitude filled her chest when Theodore pulled her under an overhang and unlocked a door, ushering her inside a storefront and setting off a bell over the doorjamb with a ding-a-ding. The odors of kerosene, wood shavings, and damp met her nose, and she shuddered as the warmer temperature hit her wet skin. “Your mercantile?”

  “Soon to be ours.” With the strike of a match and a whiff of sulfur, Theodore lit a lamp, brightening the space and illuminating shelves of goods. To the right of the door spread a display of buckets, ropes, pickaxes, shovels, and boots—good sellers here, no doubt. To the left of the door, fancy glass and crystal glittered in the lamplight, expensive items that might not sell as well out here, but they were certainly lovely. Fabrics and premade items were at the back, but near the squat wood-burning stove to her right stood neat rows of canned goods, food sacks, and barrels. She may have just eaten a full meal, but her mouth watered at the thought of their contents. Crackers? Oats? Sweet pickles?

  Once she married Theodore, she’d cook the most wonderful things for him. They’d eat like royalty, and she’d never be hungry again.

  He watched her, a tiny smile playing at his lips. Her cheeks heated. Perhaps instead of admiring the goods in the store, she should have been admiring him. Her gaze dropped in embarrassment, which only heightened when she caught sight of the puddle encircling her as her skirt dripped onto the floor. “I’m sorry. Have you a rag?”

  “I’ll get it.” He reached behind the counter for a cloth. Then he knelt at her feet and mopped the wood planks, but not her skirt. He must think dabbing her clothing to be too personal, even if he was her intended.

  They’d be married right now if things had gone the way they were supposed to, but she couldn’t help feeling Theodore was a stranger. As if she didn’t belong here.