My Heart Belongs in Ruby City, Idaho

by Susanne Dietze

  “Corny lost her balance, and once I righted her, lace from her sleeve snagged my collar.” Theodore chuckled good-naturedly. Corny, the employee Rebecca had assumed was a man, glared. Who wouldn’t be embarrassed, though?

  Theodore’s introduction of her by her first name indicated that she was still a child, but despite her dainty build, thin frame under a dress that fit her like a sack, and the youthful look of the looped braids pinned over her ears, it was obvious Theodore’s employee was no longer a schoolgirl. Rebecca strode toward the young lady and started to extend her hand, before realizing she still held the jasper. She slipped it into her bag. “Nice to meet you, Corny. I’m Rebecca Rice.”

  “My name isn’t Corny. I prefer Cornelia.” The scowling redhead’s handshake was limp as a rag.

  Cornelia may not be a child, but she still acted a little like one. Why the hostility? Did she expect to lose her job now that Rebecca was able to help in the store? Rebecca would have to mention it to Theodore so he could set his employee at ease, reassuring her he still needed her or informing her of changes to her schedule or status.

  “How long have you worked at the mercantile, Cornelia?”

  “Since my pa started mining on War Eagle Mountain.” However long that was. Cornelia disappeared through a gray curtain to a room off of the store, giving Rebecca a glimpse of crates, a desk, and a broom stacked against the far wall before the curtain fell again. She spun to chat with Theodore, but he gestured toward the lone customer in the store, Jeroboam Jones, who stood staring at two brands of coffee with a confused look on his face. “Pardon me.”

  “Of course.” There’d be plenty of time to talk later. He had a job to do. But it might have been nice to swap pleasantries, at least.

  Well, this was to be her store, too. Perhaps she should become better acquainted with it. She sauntered behind Jeroboam and Theodore, who pulled down a tin Jeroboam hadn’t been scrutinizing. “This one here is from the Pioneer Steam Coffee and Spice Mills in San Francisco. Costs a little more, but get a gander at the beans.”

  He opened the tin and Jeroboam peeked inside. “They ain’t beans at all.”

  Theodore chortled. “These are beans, in fact, but they’re not green. They’ve been roasted and ground for your convenience.”

  Already roasted and ground? Amazing. The coffee smell wafted around Rebecca’s nose, making her mouth water for a cup. With cream and sugar, something she hadn’t had since Pa was alive.

  “How much?” Jeroboam’s eyes went wide at Theodore’s answer. “I don’t got enough, Mr. Fordham.”

  “That’s what credit is for.” Theodore’s arm went around Jeroboam.

  Rebecca bit her lip. Theodore knew his job, and by selling more to his customers than they needed, he’d make money and keep a roof over her head for the rest of her life.

  But the look on Jeroboam’s face tugged at something in Rebecca’s chest. Had she borne the same forlorn expression when she was on the journey from Missouri, counting coins before she ordered meals? Or when she worked for that old pinchpenny Mrs. MacGruder and went to bed hungry, fantasizing about her employer’s food?

  She stepped closer and smiled up at Jeroboam. “The Pioneer coffee will be here next time you come in. Maybe by then you’ll be ready to give it a try.”

  Smiling, Jeroboam pointed to a different tin. “I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Fordham, sir, but I’ll jus’ take this today.”

  Theodore’s smile was strained. “Need a new grinder? This one here is a beauty.”

  “No thanks, sir. Not on credit, anyway.”

  Theodore didn’t smile anymore. His hand waved at Cornelia, who must’ve slipped out of the storage room. “Corny? Mr. Jones is ready for payment.”

  “Sure thing.” Cornelia was all smiles for him and Jeroboam.

  Rebecca turned to Theodore. Maybe now they could talk. “How are you today, Theodore?”

  “A little upset, to be frank.” He didn’t make eye contact. “I was about to make a larger sale, but you talked the customer out of it.”

  Her lips popped apart. “He couldn’t afford that ground coffee.”

  “You don’t understand the business, Rebecca. Folks wheedle and fib to get a lower price. If I lower my standards, I won’t make a living.”

  When he put it that way, hot shame welled in her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked at her then. “You didn’t know. But best leave the workings of the store to me, until you learn how it’s done.”

  She was about to nod when the hairs at her nape lifted, and she turned. Tad paused at the threshold, removed his hat, and strode toward her and Theodore.

  “Tad.” Theodore’s tone was crisp.

  “Theodore.”

  So much for a thaw between them. Then again, maybe this was an improvement in their relationship, if they hadn’t spoken in months.

  “Shopping for Longbeard?” Rebecca smiled and indicated the front window where the rope was before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to help sell products yet. Her hand fell.

  Tad held up a letter, as if unsure what to do with it. “I heard from Rebekah Rhys.”

  “Wonderful.” Theodore sounded friendly now. “When’s she coming?”

  She wasn’t. It was obvious in Tad’s hollow-looking eyes. Rebecca’s chest ached for him. “What happened?”

  He held out the letter to her. “Maybe you’d better read it.”

  Rebecca didn’t want to, and at the same time her fingers itched with curiosity about his Rebekah. What had made him propose to her? Her charm? Her wit?

  Her penmanship was stunning, to be sure. But Rebecca couldn’t read past the first line.

  Mr. Fordham, please do not hate me, but I find I am of a changed mind.

  She read ahead, just to be sure. Then felt her jaw go slack as she gazed up at Tad.

  “Rebekah married someone else?”

  Tad laughed at himself. Rebecca grasped in thirty seconds what it had taken him several read-throughs to comprehend. “That’s what she says.”

  One line of information amid repetitive apologies—Rebekah met a banker on the train two days after she started her journey west.

  “Impossible.” Theodore snatched the letter.

  Clearly it wasn’t. “Maybe she felt more confident marrying a stranger she’d seen in person than one she’d never glimpsed.” Either way, she’d gotten off the train with the banker, married, and had the courtesy to tell Tad she wasn’t coming.

  Rebecca’s hand hovered midair, hesitant, but at last she patted his bicep in a gesture of comfort. “You must be devastated.”

  Was he? To be truthful, he was more aware of the warmth of Rebecca’s palm through his sleeve than his disappointment over Rebekah. Sure, he’d made plans. Sure, he’d committed to her. But he didn’t love her, not yet. “I’m relieved she’s well. I worried something had happened to her, since she hadn’t yet arrived. I expected her days ago.”

  “You’re a generous man, Tad.” Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears. For him? Her heart was as big as the territory. It wasn’t hard to smile at her.

  Theodore thrust the letter against Tad’s chest, breaking the connection of his gaze with Rebecca’s. “Maybe you can check the advertisements for another bride. Need a copy of the newspaper? I have a few on the counter.”

  Did his cousin try to encourage him or make a sale? Tad’s laugh was mirthless. “It’s a little soon, Theodore. Besides, I’m a married man at the moment.”

  He shouldn’t have said it. It was like rubbing salt in the gaping wound of their relationship, reminding Theodore he was legally married to Rebecca. But it was true. Tad had no business reading the matrimonial papers in search of a wife when he hadn’t settled his current state of affairs.

  Rebecca nodded. “It’s sensible to wait. The heart needs time to heal, too, of course.” Her glance flicked at Tad.

  So it did, and now it had to heal from his minute-long marriage to Rebecca, too. Learning she wasn’t his Rebekah hurt, more than he h
urt right now. Strangely, losing Rebecca after that minute had hurt him even more than when he and Theodore drove Dottie away—

  No use thinking such maudlin things. He pocketed the letter and forced a smile. “Just thought you all should know.”

  “You’re still going to get the annulment promptly, aren’t you?” Theodore folded his arms.

  “Yes, Theodore.” But right now he didn’t want to talk about it. “I’d best get that rope for Longbeard’s claim. Pardon me.”

  He glanced at Rebecca again and his heart gave a little flip over the expression of pity on her face. Corny and Jeroboam watched with ill-concealed interest from the counter as he selected and paid for the rope. There was no use thinking about Rebekah or Rebecca or anything but his job right now.

  When Tad returned to the county office, Orr sat in Tad’s chair, his feet propped on Tad’s desk. “You look comfortable, Orr. Problem with your desk?”

  Orr chortled. “I like the view from yours.”

  Funny. Tad’s desk faced the room that served as their jail. He repaid the favor by leaning against Orr’s desk. To think, yesterday afternoon he’d signed paperwork on it, just after marrying Rebecca. The spot where they’d swapped vows was lit up with a beam of sunshine from one of the front windows.

  He forced his gaze away. “Bowe eat yet?”

  “I’m hungry!” The cry carried from the jail. “Ham and eggs ain’t enough for a man like me.”

  “He ate.” Orr rolled his eyes.

  “Then let’s escort him out of town.”

  “Is it true he punched you and took your wife hostage?”

  “She’s not my wife.” He realized a beat too late Orr teased, because of course, he already knew. “I’d keep him in there until the judge comes back, but Sheriff Adkins’s instructions were clear. Unless we have a murder or armed robbery, I’ve got to send ’em out of town. Now if Bowe comes back again, that’s another story.”

  Letting Bowe go went against everything Tad stood for, though. Not because Bowe had struck out at him, but because he’d laid hands on Rebecca. Just thinking about it made Tad’s fists curl.

  Escorting Bowe to the edge of town didn’t take long. “You’re free to go, but if you return, the sheriff won’t hesitate to lock you up until the judge comes back.”

  “Fine.” Bowe held up his hands. “Sorry I touched your woman.”

  “She’s not—” Tad mentally kicked himself. “Go on, Bowe.”

  Once the deed was done, Tad jogged back to the livery. To his surprise, a handful of mules clustered in the front paddock—including two he didn’t recognize—and the OPEN sign hung on the door. Who’d opened the livery?

  He strode inside. Finding no one, he poked into the small office. A familiar lean figure with a cowlick at the back of his head of salt-and-pepper hair bent over the scratched desk, entering information in the stock ledger.

  “Pa, you’re home early.” Tad embraced his father. Gifford Fordham clung hard to his only child, thumping Tad’s back in such a way that communicated both affection and strength—and almost made Tad choke. Pa might be of slender build, but his shoulders and arms were as strong as a young man’s. He could hoist and toss feed bags as easily as Tad.

  Or tease like a young fellow, which he did often. At the embrace’s end, Pa flicked Tad’s hat off his head to the floor. “That fancy hat of yours still making you smile, Deputy Dandy?”

  Tad scooped up his new hat, brushed it off, and hung it on a peg by the door. “It’s called a Boss, Pa. And you’d order one for yourself if you’d try this on.”

  Pa put the hat on his head. “Nope.” He replaced it on the peg, laughing.

  “You come home early to poke fun at my Boss?”

  “I came home early because I found what I wanted right away. Did you see the new mules? Sure-footed and fair.” Pa pointed in the direction of the paddock, beyond the wall.

  “I didn’t get a close look.”

  “I didn’t look close in the house, either, but I could tell you cooked in my kitchen.” Pa’s bushy brows rose. “Isn’t Mrs. Horner feeding you anymore?”

  Tad took a deep breath. “About that.”

  “Hmm?” Pa gathered a clean rag and brushed past to the main barn.

  Tad followed, wondering how to start. Maybe the end of the story would be best. “Rebekah isn’t coming, Pa. I got a letter this morning. But yesterday, a gal named Rebecca got off the stage and I thought she was my Rebekah, and, well, we got married.”

  The rag fell from Pa’s hand in time with his gaping jaw. “Beg pardon?”

  Tad related the whole story. “So Theodore’s still none too friendly—”

  “Nothing new there, since Dottie.”

  “—and I’m bunking at the office until the annulment gets worked out and Rebecca can marry Theodore.” Tad picked up a curry comb. Patches, the gentlest horse in the stable, needed a good brushing, and it was easier to focus on something so he wouldn’t have to look at the pity in Pa’s eyes right now.

  Pa clasped his shoulder in a kind gesture. “I’m sorry, Son. I know you had high hopes for your Rebekah, and, well, I was looking forward to having a daughter. But it wasn’t meant to be, and now we’ll be two bachelors, starting fresh in Silver City.”

  Tad’s brushing stopped. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Silver City attracts more newcomers than Ruby City.” Pa squatted with a jar of grease beside the wagon. “It’s a mile closer to the mines and it’s out of the winds. I’d settle there, if I was new to the Owyhees.”

  “But we’re not new.”

  “The folks who run the Avalanche newspaper are talking about moving to Silver City. Not just the paper but the literal building, walls and all. They asked me about renting mules and sledges. I said we’d be delighted—and as Ruby City’s only livery, they don’t have much choice but to give us business, eh? Looks like we’ll make some money when others move their buildings before we have to move ourselves.”

  Pa had come back this morning and heard gossip about the newspaper moving to Silver City but not about Tad’s mistake of a marriage? Huh. Tad wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or offended. “Doesn’t mean we need to leave Ruby City, too.”

  “We’re businessmen, Son.” Pa worked grease into the wagon’s axles. “We follow the crowds.”

  That’s how things had been done with the Fordhams since Tad was young. When Gifford and his brother, Theodore’s father, Stanley, lost their wives in the carriage accident outside Sacramento, they determined a change of scenery would help them and their boys, Tad and Theodore. Giff and Stan started a livery business in a neighboring mining town, and when it dried up, they moved to another California town. Then Nevada. Now here, where Uncle Stan died and Theodore decided he’d had enough of mules and wagons and started a mercantile.

  If business was the driving factor, Theodore would probably move to Silver City, too. But Tad had no desire to follow. “I’m tired of moving, Pa.”

  “Not like you to complain, Son. You’re just plum tired, is all.” Pa chuckled. “I was thinking, if most of the businesses make the trek, the county seat will probably move, too, and you’re the deputy. Maybe you’ll be sheriff with one of these elections.”

  “That’s never been my aspiration, Pa. You know that.”

  “It could be. You’ve got leadership potential, Son. A good sense of vision, folks listen to you, and you’re always one to lend a hand, like you did during the war. Then when you came home, you agreed to help the sheriff, and he relies on you so much that he leaves town with you in charge. I know I can leave, too, and the livery will be in good shape when I get back.”

  “Thanks, Pa.” The praise felt good, but at the same time, Tad couldn’t help feeling his pa was not proud as much as he was trying to steer Tad in a particular direction.

  And like a mule seeing a rocky path ahead, he wasn’t sure he liked this course.

  Pa nodded. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t be sheriff and continue to be a partn
er in the business, until you take over.”

  But Tad didn’t want to be sheriff, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to take over Pa’s business—

  The realization pierced him like an arrow, ripping through his chest with excruciating speed. Tad’s fingers shook when he put the comb back in its place. Of course you want to stay in business with Pa. You wouldn’t betray him by leaving the livery.

  And that’s what it would be. A betrayal. He stayed turned away from Pa, the better to hide his conflicting thoughts.

  “Rebekah’s news has shaken you,” Pa said from behind him. “Lick your wounds today, and tomorrow you’ll be as eager as I am to start fresh.”

  Tad led Patches outside to the corral, thinking and praying. Maybe his wild thought about leaving the livery business was no more than fatigue after sleeping on a narrow slab of a cot and pain over Rebekah, and Rebecca. But maybe it was something more. He returned inside with a pain in his gut and more questions in his head than bees in a hive.

  “I’ve—if you don’t need me, Pa, I should go make a cursory look for the Gang. They’re long gone, but I want to see if they left any tracks.”

  “Of course, Son. Everything’s fine here.”

  Tad retrieved his Boss hat and saddled Solomon, his favorite riding horse. He wouldn’t take a posse with him, since it was unlikely he’d come across the Gang. Besides, he was going out to think and pray as much as to look for signs of the Gang.

  “I’ll be home by dusk, Pa.”

  Pa didn’t look up from greasing the wagon’s axles. “With a clearer head over Rebekah and ready to start fresh in Silver City, I’d bet.”

  Not likely. Tad rode off, grinding his teeth over Pa’s remark. It wasn’t fair of Tad to be upset with Pa, who only wanted the best for him: a stable job with family, and a position in the community among people he cared about. That was what made a town a home, wasn’t it? The people, not the place? If all his friends relocated to Silver City, then that would be where home was.

  He didn’t want to relocate there, though. The knowledge stiffened his spine and worked its way out through his grinding molars. He desired to please his father and his community, but he sure felt like he wanted something different than what they wanted.