My Heart Belongs in Ruby City, Idaho

by Susanne Dietze

  Dottie’s warning rose fresh in his thoughts and he ran, pushing past folks until he reached the bank. The door was ajar, a pungent smell hung in the air, and a lit oil lamp illumined the twisted remnants of the safe. Banker Bilson tugged his gray hair by the roots.

  Rebecca dashed past Tad. “Oh, Mr. Bilson!”

  Jeroboam followed her. “See, I told you.”

  “Go get the sheriff. He’s at the jail.” Tad crossed to the banker. “Did you see anyone, Bilson?”

  “No, I found the lock picked open. How could they blast open the safe without me hearing it?” Mr. Bilson’s hand covered his mouth.

  Rebecca helped him sit behind his mahogany desk. “The fireworks were loud enough to cover it.”

  The thieves weren’t too long gone, though. Tad examined the rubble surrounding the destroyed safe. Bills, coins, and bags of what might be gold dust lay strewn about the floor in tantalizing enticement. Anyone could scoop them up in a few seconds. “There’s a lot of valuables still on the floor. Do you think your return startled them?”

  “What’s this?” Sheriff Adkins pushed through the gathering crowd into the bank. “Aw, Bilson.”

  “What’s the hullabaloo?” Ulysses poked his head in the door. “Howdy, Miz Rebecca.”

  “Where’s my money?” Donald Evans shoved inside, followed by Eb Cook.

  “I’m back.” Jeroboam puffed out his chest. “Make way for the deputy’s deputy.”

  Sheriff Adkins shooed the crowd back out the door. “Everything will be fine, folks.”

  “I want my money,” Donald grumbled.

  “Me, too.” Eb folded his arms.

  Tad gestured to the door. “You know Bilson’s good for it. Now, everyone out.”

  “Not me, too?” Jeroboam’s face fell.

  “You guard the door.” Tad shut it and turned back to Bilson. “Anyone suspicious come in recently?”

  “All those mining ne’er-do-wells are suspicious.” Bilson’s shoulders slumped. “But it could’ve been anyone.”

  “We’ll find them.” Tad clapped the banker’s shoulder. Then he turned to Rebecca. “Get back to the boardinghouse and stay there where it’s safe.”

  Rebecca, disobedient creature, poured Bilson a glass of water from the pitcher in the corner. “Where’s your broom, Mr. Bilson? I’ll get this tidied up in a jiffy.”

  Mr. Bilson pointed to the back room. Tad’s jaw clenched. “Rebecca—”

  She disappeared without a glance to Tad. Insufferable. For all her talk of wanting to be safe, she didn’t hide behind a locked door like a sensible person. Well, there was one good thing about her being in the other room. She wouldn’t hear what he was about to say. “Sheriff, Dottie warned us the Gang was going to turn to bank robbery. It seems she was right. I suggest we form a posse, now, before they get too far.”

  “Even if it wasn’t the Gang, a posse is a good idea. Bilson, clean up as best you can and get yourself a new door lock.”

  Rebecca returned, a brush and dustpan in hand. Bilson stood, and she waved him back to his seat. “You relax, Mr. Bilson.”

  “All them people gawking in here, wondering about their money.” Bilson’s voice held a panicked edge. “Even Bowe Brown, and he don’t even got any cash in here.”

  Rebecca dropped the dustpan with a clatter to the floor. “Bowe’s out of jail? But I thought—Tad?”

  “We didn’t release him.” Tad ran to the window. Sure enough, Bowe craned to get a gander at the fuss inside, but once he met Tad’s gaze, he vanished. It sure looked like the Anderson brothers chasing after him, too. Tad swung the door open, startling Jeroboam, and ran.

  Long-legged Jeroboam caught up at once. “Hey, you fellers there! Stop in the name of the law!”

  The youngest Anderson spun to laugh at them, but he’d made a critical mistake. Running backward through the streets normally wouldn’t be difficult, but tonight, tables blocked the street. The fellow rammed into a table and flew over it.

  “Take him back to jail, Jeroboam.”

  “Will do, Deputy!”

  Tad ran on, following Bowe and the other two fellows around the corner of the street, past Pa and Mrs. Horner at Theodore’s table. “Stop ‘em!”

  He didn’t pause to watch but chased Bowe over the thick grass. Tad lunged, getting a mouthful of grass and a fresh stab of pain in his shoulder wound, but he caught Bowe, gripped his wrists behind his back, and hauled him to his feet.

  Within moments, half the town surrounded him. Ulysses, Wilkie, and Eb lent assistance as he, Pa, Jeroboam, and Theodore—tie askew—pushed the fugitives along. Mrs. Horner walked alongside, wielding a ladle like a weapon. And then there was Rebecca, her fingers clutching her arms so hard her knuckle bones were white.

  “I told you to go home.”

  “And I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Ain’t she your mail-order bride?” Bowe snickered. “I’d send her back.”

  Tad spared a hasty glance for Theodore, who’d gone red. But it wasn’t any use rising to Bowe’s bait, so Tad just shoved him into the county offices. “Speaking of being sent back, breaking out of prison is plain stupid. The judge won’t view it too kindly.”

  A sense of dread prickled the back of his neck. He hauled Bowe inside. Sure enough, the back door swung wide, its lock blasted off. Inside the jail, the cell doors hung open, the key still in one of the locks. Over at the closet, the new lock was blown apart by a gun.

  The clamor of the fireworks had covered a lot more than the dynamite.

  Rebecca looked around, eyes wide. “Where are they? Where’s Johnny?”

  “The Gang broke Dottie out and set the others free as a distraction, so we’d have work to do before we went after them.” He turned back to Rebecca, hating the words even before he spoke them. “And it looks like they took Johnny as a hostage.”

  Rebecca didn’t say a word, not when Mr. Orr thumped her shoulder and said it would be fine. Not when Uncle Giff jerry-rigged locks to keep Bowe and his cronies behind bars. Not when Theodore said he was sorry about Johnny, or when Cornelia hugged her, or when Mrs. Horner suggested they go back to the boardinghouse to wait. But when Tad and the sheriff announced the posse would be riding out in ten minutes, she found her voice.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Tad, who was issuing orders to Ulysses to guard the prisoners here, turned. “No, you’re not.”

  “It’s my brother out there. I can and I will.” She spun to Uncle Giff. “I need a horse.”

  Uncle Giff’s mouth opened, but Tad slashed the air with his hand. “Do not give her a horse, Pa.”

  She waved off Tad’s hand. “I know how to ride, Tad.”

  “This isn’t about whether or not you can. It’s about whether or not you should, and I say you shouldn’t. Everyone does.”

  But nobody said a word. Not Uncle Giff, not Mrs. Horner, not Cornelia, who pressed her lips together, and not Theodore, who merely watched her. Rebecca’s hands fisted on her hips. “I won’t slow you down.”

  “You will, dressed like that.” He pointed at her full skirt like it was offensive.

  “I’ll wear Dottie’s trousers.” Rebecca lifted her chin.

  Cornelia gasped. “Really, Rebecca? Trousers?”

  Mrs. Horner hushed her.

  Rebecca glared at Tad. “Are you going to waste time arguing, or are we going after them?”

  Tad glanced at the sheriff, who shrugged. “Five minutes,” he announced. “Have your horses and supplies ready. Even you, Miss Rice.”

  That wasn’t much time. Rebecca paused in the doorway to glower at Tad. “You will not leave without me, Tad Fordham.”

  Bowe Brown laughed from his cell. “Sounds like a wife to me.”

  Rebecca rushed to the livery. Dottie’s trousers were where she’d left them, at the bottom of the valise. Rebecca stuffed them under her arm and ran out again, passing Uncle Giff as he tossed a saddle over the dappled horse named Patches. He looked up at her. “She’ll be gentle fo
r you, but you’d best hurry. Don’t forget a canteen and a blanket.”

  She paused long enough to kiss his stubbled cheek before running to the boardinghouse. By the time she’d grabbed her medical bag and donned her shirtwaist, coat, bonnet, and Dottie’s trousers—an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one—Mrs. Horner stood at the foot of the stairs, holding a mass of objects. “Food in the dish towel. Canteen’s full, and the blanket’s thin but enough to lay on if you’re out that long.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Horner—”

  “Thank me when Johnny comes home. Now go before the deputy leaves without you. And don’t feel bad about going. I’d go, too, if it was my brother.”

  Several men gathered at the livery, some kissing wives and children, and others already mounted and ready to go. Rebecca recognized a few, like Jeroboam, but didn’t pause to greet anyone as she hurried inside, where Patches waited beside the mounting block. Two feet away, Tad tightened a cinch on Solomon’s saddle and scowled. She wouldn’t dare ask him for help climbing into the saddle. If she did, he’d say she wasn’t fit to come along.

  She didn’t need his help, anyway. She secured the blanket, her medical bag, and food, and then planted her foot in the stirrup. Swinging the rest of her body up and over was easy in trousers. Riding was still awkward, however. It had been nearly six years, and she’d never ridden astride. She bent and patted Patches’s neck. “Let’s be friends, shall we?”

  Tad climbed on Solomon and left the livery without a glance.

  Well, she wasn’t happy with him, either. Now she knew what people meant when they said rage boiled under their skin. Heat suffused her from her bones and lapped in waves from her chest to her head.

  Theodore paused outside, and a fresh wave of something unpleasant washed over her: guilt, because she hadn’t even thought to tell him good-bye. She pulled Patches to an abrupt stop. “I’m sorry, Theodore. I have to go—”

  “I know. I’ll help with guard duty at the jail until you all come back.”

  To her shame, she’d assumed he’d be working at the store. “Thank you for helping, Theodore.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She clicked her tongue to Patches and hastened after the men, who’d already ridden away. Her mind stayed on Theodore, though. They’d exchanged no tender words of good-bye, no squeeze of hands. She was left with nothing but remorse, because the truth was, she hadn’t wanted more than a hasty, cordial good-bye from him.

  Don’t feel guilty. After you get Johnny back, you can focus on Theodore. Love will come after you’re married. Isn’t that what you’re always telling everyone?

  She had plenty of other things to feel guilty about that were more pressing, though. Like Johnny. He should never have been involved in this mess. Rebecca spurred Patches onward.

  They’d traveled a short distance when Tad dismounted to study something on the ground by torchlight. “Broken shoe, just like before.”

  Mr. Orr nodded. “It’s them, all right. No animal comes out of Fordham’s with a broken shoe.”

  “Good. I want my money back.” Mr. Cook shifted in the saddle.

  Rebecca spun. “We’ve got people to be concerned with, too.”

  Cornelia’s pa had the good sense to look abashed.

  The following hour, Rebecca’s molars ground together as she prayed and fumed, angry at everyone. Dottie. The Gang. Even Tad for not wanting her to come along. And at God, too, to be honest. How could You let this happen to me again? To Johnny? Losing Pa this way scattered our family and left me fatherless.

  God had been her Father, she remembered. But she also remembered being hungry.

  As the first glow of pink tinged the eastern sky, Tad turned Solomon and cantered back toward her. “This is the direction Dottie told us to go, and the broken-shoe tracks are still fresh,” he announced. “We’ll be at the mine shortly.”

  She appreciated the news but didn’t acknowledge it. Instead she stared straight ahead. Tad positioned Solomon alongside Patches and bent toward her, adjusting his Stetson and giving her a view of his furrowed brow and his low-drawn brows. “There are still tracks for five horses. That means the Gang and Johnny. They haven’t hurt him.”

  “Oh, he’s hurt all right.” The words flapped out, noisy and clumsy, like birds escaping from a cage. “They must’ve incapacitated him somehow, because he wouldn’t have gone without a fight.”

  “You know what I meant, but you’re right. The sooner we get to Johnny, the better.”

  “And Dottie? Is she a captive, too? I doubt it sincerely.”

  Tad sighed. “I just hope she hasn’t told them we know about the hideout’s location.”

  “If she did, they’ll be waiting to ambush us. Or they’ll hurt Johnny.”

  “The sheriff and I have already worked out a plan so they won’t know we’re coming. We’ll go around the side of the mountain. There are plenty of trees to hide us, but we’ll have to be careful because it’s on a steep cliff face. Don’t worry, though. There’s a sheltered spot in the rocks a quarter of a mile from the mine where we can leave you.”

  “I will not be left behind. You heard Mr. Cook. The others care more about their money than saving my brother.” She spurred Patches onward.

  Tad trotted to catch her. “Be sensible.” His voice was low, so the others couldn’t overhear. “You have no experience bringing in fugitives, and the Gang is unlike anything most of us have ever dealt with.”

  She stopped then, fully, making Tad bring Solomon around. “Johnny is my brother. No one else cares as much as I do what happens to him.”

  “I care,” he whispered.

  Not like she did. How could he? “But this is my fault, Tad. I should’ve thought of the consequences when I gave Dottie time to turn herself in. If I’d just told your pa before you got home, told everyone in town, there might have been more time to secure her in jail.”

  “She was plenty secure.”

  Rebecca tugged off her right glove with her teeth and swiped her damp palm on Dottie’s trousers. “Don’t try to make me feel better. I’m still angry, Tad, both at myself and at you for wanting to leave me behind.”

  “I know.” It sounded almost like an endearment.

  The sheriff wheeled his enormous black gelding around and trotted back toward them. Rebecca took a ragged breath. The time for talking to Tad was over, and just in time. She was angry, so angry, and at the same time—oh, she couldn’t deny she was drawn to Tad, too. Relied on him when she felt weak, like right now.

  This can’t go on, Lord.

  Sheriff Adkins pointed. “The hideout is half a mile thataway. Should we make some plans, Fordham?”

  “Sounds good.” He cast her a parting look as he trotted away on Solomon. “You’re still hiding while we round them up.”

  She shook her head. “If someone needs medical care, I can help.”

  Just like Johnny helped, by putting Dottie in jail for Tad. Just like Pa helped by serving as a sheriff, even though it cost him his life. Just like Tad helps by risking life and limb for the folks of Ruby City. Folks help one another. You’re no different.

  Rebecca’s hand fisted over her mouth. What she did was completely different. Stitching was not the same as what Tad did. What her father had done.

  But she held back and prayed while the others formed their plan to sneak up to the hideout.

  Fifteen minutes later, after leaving the horses below and directing the group, Tad led the small posse up the slope, around the back of the mine. His feet were steady, but his innards writhed like rats in a meal sack. He was glad for it; fear kept him sharp. Johnny was in danger. Dottie might be, too. The Gang of Four wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Tad or anyone else, not even Rebecca. She shouldn’t even be here, and when she refused to wait in the protected alcove, he’d wanted to smack something.

  She might be stubborn, angrier than a wet hornet, and bound and determined to marry someone else, but he loved her. He’d be the first to throw the ri
ce at her wedding to Theodore if it meant she’d be safe and sound forever, though.

  Tad tiptoed through the brush around the hideout, shoving his emotions down to his boots. He had a job, and right now it entailed a lot less moping about Rebecca and a lot more awareness of his surroundings.

  Scrinch. Somebody behind him stepped on a twig. Tad turned back, his forefinger over his lips. Jeroboam mouthed sorry.

  Tad needn’t have worried about being overheard, though. Or about coming to the wrong place. Voices carried from around the curve of the hill, from the direction of the mine’s entrance. The Gang of Four was having one beaut of an argument.

  Tad couldn’t make out the words, but the Gang’s distraction offered the posse a distinct advantage. Preparing to wait for the sheriff’s signal, the group crept behind the junipers and thickets that overlooked on the abandoned mine. There’d be good cover there, but Tad took Rebecca’s elbow and held her back. “Stay here. Please.”

  The words were mouthed more than whispered.

  Rebecca shook her head. He had no choice but to progress into his hiding spot, and she followed after him to crouch behind a scraggly evergreen. He sighed and sidled around her, shielding her with his body. “Could you please try to not get killed?” he whispered.

  “I could say the same to you,” she whispered back, straining to see over his shoulder.

  All four members of the Gang gathered around the entrance of the mine, which was positioned dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Dottie sat against the rock at the mine opening, resting her head. Near her hunched pock-cheeked Skeet Smucker, who shook his head although nobody looked at him except Johnny, who was bound, hands and feet, beside Dottie.

  Thank God he was alive.

  Ralph White hadn’t changed in looks. Still as burly, endowed with the sort of build and face that turned ladies’ heads, Ralph positioned himself between his wife and Flick, the fourth member of the Gang. “I should kill you here and now for shooting Dottie, Flick.”

  Flick Dougherty’s head was a little too small for his big shoulders, and his eyes were small, like peppercorns in a large, doughy face. His thick fingers clenched close to his gun holster.