Ruby

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  “The room smells like you. Sweet, dusky, wonderful. What is it?”

  “In the bayou we call it potpourri. I keep it in a dish in each room.”

  “Um. Sounds mysterious. What does it mean?”

  She laughed, and he thought how much he’d missed the sexy, throaty sound of her laughter. “It sounds much better in the French than in the translation. It means rotten pot.”

  He grinned. “You’re right. I like the sound of potpourri better. What is it?”

  “It is a mélange, chéri. A mixture of many things. Flowers, herbs, spices. But mostly roses. I love the fragrance of roses.”

  “I never gave much thought to it. But now I love it, too.” He breathed it in, then pressed a kiss to her hair. “It reminds me of you. It will always remind me of you.”

  She moved, shifted, until her lips found his. Against his mouth she whispered, “We feel right together here in my room.”

  “We are right together, Ruby. Not just here. Everywhere. I’ve had a long time to think things through. There’s so much—”

  His head came up at the sound of a gunshot. He swore softly as he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “Probably nothing more than some damn fool rancher who can’t hold his liquor. But I have to see to it.”

  “Don’t go, Quent. Let Arlo take care of it.”

  He pulled on his pants and slipped into the shirt, idly noting the missing buttons. “Arlo couldn’t shoot fish in a barrel.” He sat down on the edge of the chaise and pulled on his boots, then strapped on his holsters and checked his pistols. “Want to walk back with me? The social should be winding down soon. Then all I’ll have to do is pick Beau Baskin out of the dust and lock him up for the night.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You go. I think I’d like to wash up and repair the damage to my gown.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at the heap of clothes that littered the floor.

  “I’m not.” She stepped naked from the chaise and walked to him, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes go dark with the quick flare of passion.

  Quent felt his throat go dry, and wished he’d never heard that gunshot, especially when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a thoroughness that had him straining against her.

  “Are you sure you have to leave?” she whispered.

  “Oh, God.” He’d known there was an imp in her. He’d seen it in her eyes. Tasted it on her lips.

  “I’ll be right back. As soon as I...” He kissed her once, twice, three times before he managed to turn away and stagger to the door. “As soon as I can take care of a couple of obligations.”

  He pulled the door open and cautioned himself not to look back, or he’d be lost. Outside, he took several deep breaths, then started up the street.

  With a satisfied smile, Boyd Barlow stood in the shadows and watched until the marshal disappeared.

  It had been even easier than he’d expected. He’d seen Quent Regan leave the hall with the woman, had followed them here to this little shop. He’d seen their silhouettes in the darkened window, knew exactly what they were doing. That’s when the idea had come to him. He had the perfect way to avenge his brother’s murder. And it had been Quent Regan himself who’d given him the answer.

  The damned fool marshal had gone soft on a woman. What better way to get to him than through her?

  He’d waited until the lantern was shining inside the shop. Then he’d run to the end of the street, behind the livery, where he’d fired off a shot. He knew his quarry well. Knew that Quent Regan wouldn’t neglect an obligation to the town, even if it meant sacrificing his own pleasure.

  And Marshal Regan had done exactly as he’d expected, hurrying away within minutes of the gunshot.

  The outlaw took the badge out of his pocket and pinned it to his shirt. Then, with a confident grin, he sauntered up to the shop and knocked on the door.

  Ruby tied up her hair and washed in a basin. Then, humming a little tune, she slipped into a clean gown and brushed her hair long and loose before picking up the remnants of her clothing scattered around the floor.

  “Oh, my,” she said with shaky little laugh. She was still dazed at what had happened between her and Quent. It had been...magic. There was no other explanation for it. One minute they were ignoring each other, or trying desperately to. The next they were caught up in a wild dance of desire that had left her breathless.

  “I’d better get these things mended before Patience sees them and asks for an explanation,” she muttered aloud.

  She padded barefoot into the shop and located her needle and thread. But before she could return to her sitting room, there was a knock on the door.

  Her lips parted in a smile as she hurried to answer it. “That didn’t take you as long—”

  She arched a brow. The man standing there was a stranger.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she said. “My shop is closed until morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Boyd gave her his best smile. “I hate to bother you. But I’m just in for the town social. I have to leave first thing in the morning. And since I’m an old friend of Quent Regan’s, I thought maybe you’d make an exception.”

  “A friend of Quent’s?” She stared at the badge pinned to his shirt. “I see you’re a lawman, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Homer Johnson. And you are...?”

  “Ruby Jewel.”

  “Yep. That’s what Quent said.” He glanced beyond her, his gaze sweeping the room. “Quent said you could probably help me with a—” he caught sight of the gowns hanging along one wall “—a dress for my wife.”

  “Oui. A dress.” She stepped aside, permitting him entrance. “I suppose, since you are a friend and fellow lawman, it wouldn’t be polite to turn you away.” She started toward the row of gowns. “Do you have an idea of size and color?”

  When he didn’t answer she turned. He was leaning against the closed door. In his hand was a very deadly looking gun.

  “We won’t worry about size and color,” he said with a chilling smile.

  “I don’t under—”

  “You just worry about doing what you’re told. Come here.”

  Ruby began backing up until she felt the cool wall behind her.

  “Damn you! I said come here.”

  He was across the room in quick strides. Using the butt of his gun, he hit her so hard she staggered to her knees and fought a wave of pain and nausea.

  “Now you’ve learned that I won’t tell you twice,” he shouted as he hauled her to her feet. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do what you’re told the first time.”

  “Who—” she felt a trickle of blood along her cheek “—are you?”

  He caught sight of himself in the tall looking glasses. The twin images made him laugh. With his face clean shaven and his hair cut short and darkened with boot black, even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

  “An old friend of your lover boy. With an old score to settle.”

  Still laughing, he dragged her into the back room.

  Spying the rumpled quilt on the chaise, his lips curled in a sneer. “Well, isn’t this cozy? The town marshal thought he’d keep his harlot all to himself.”

  He tossed her down onto the lounge, then stood over her, brandishing the gun.

  It pleased him to see the fear in her eyes. They were all alike. When they saw that he meant business, they always started crying and wailing and begging for their lives.

  It gave him a sense of power. He liked seeing how far he could push them.

  And this time it was Marshal Quent Regan who would beg. If not for his own life, then for the life of his woman.

  When the outer door was suddenly opened, he spun around, his gun at the ready.

  “Miss Ruby. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Ruby recognized the voice of Patience. But before she could call out a warning, Boyd dragged her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her throat. His other hand held
a gun to her temple.

  “We saw the light and—” Catching sight of Ruby in the grasp of the stranger, Patience swallowed back whatever else she was about to say.

  Ruby’s eyes were wide with terror when she saw both Patience and Neville Oakley, standing hand in hand, wearing identical looks of astonishment.

  “Well, well. Looks like you just changed my plans a little,” Boyd said.

  “What...? Who...?” Patience couldn’t find her voice.

  Beside her, Neville glanced from Ruby to the man holding her hostage. He seemed taken aback by the badge. “Are you a lawman?”

  “A lawman?” Boyd threw back his head and gave a chilling laugh. “I make my own law. At the end of this gun.”

  “You let go of Miss Ruby,” Neville said. “She’s too fine a lady for you to hurt her.”

  “Would you like to be her hero?” Boyd taunted.

  In one quick movement Neville shoved Patience out of the way and lumbered forward, unmindful of the danger to himself.

  “Big dumb fool,” Boyd shouted as he fired at point-blank range.

  Ruby screamed. Patience let out a piercing cry.

  Neville’s face registered shock, then pain. But, though he staggered, he continued forward.

  Boyd fired a second shot and Neville stiffened, before crumpling to the floor.

  “Oh, dear God,” Patience shouted as she dropped to her knees beside Neville. “You’ve killed him. You monster, you killed him.”

  The outlaw grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet.

  Tears streamed down her face, and hysteria bubbled dangerously close to the surface.

  He slapped her hard, then snapped, “Now, you listen, girl. Listen good, ’cause I’m only going to tell you once. You know where the marshal is?”

  In a state of shock, she nodded.

  “You find him, you hear? And you tell him Boyd Barlow has his woman. And unless he comes here alone, unarmed, Ruby Jewel won’t live to see the morning. You got all that?”

  She sniffled and struggled to pull herself together. But all she could see was Neville’s body, and the ever-widening pool of blood.

  “Get going, girl.”

  Through the layers of pain and shock, Patience looked up to see Ruby in the clutches of this madman.

  The fear was gone from Ruby’s eyes now. In its place was a slow, simmering fury. Her teeth were clenched, her jaw set. And despite the blood that ran from the wound in her temple, she looked every inch a queen. It gave Patience the courage she needed to pull herself together.

  Boyd brandished the gun.

  With a final glance at Neville’s still form, Patience fled.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Lots of people heard that gunshot, Marshal.” Arlo’s face was flushed as he shuffled into the jail to make his report. “But nobody saw the shooter. Haven’t found anybody hurt, so I have to believe it was just some drunken cowboy shooting at the moon.”

  “Maybe.” Quent lowered the unconscious Beau Baskin onto a cot, where he’d sleep off his liquor until morning. “Still, I think we ought to take another turn around the town, just in case.”

  “Okay. Where would you like me to start?”

  “Why don’t you head on over to the Golden Rule, and work your way back. I’ll take the other end of town and work my way toward you. Between us, we ought to cover everything.”

  Arlo nodded and checked his gun before heading out.

  Quent did the same. But as he was leaving he nearly collided with Patience Carter.

  “Marshal.” Her breath was coming in short gasps. She couldn’t seem to find her voice. And it seemed that at any moment her legs would fail her.

  “Take it easy. Are you hurt?”

  “No. No.”

  Quent caught her in his arms and led her inside the jail. He helped her to the seat behind his desk, then knelt and took her hands in his. He’d had years to hone his skill in offering comfort, security, a sense of calm authority to the citizens of his town, and getting them to move beyond shock to reveal necessary details. “Now, what seems to be the problem, Patience?”

  “It’s Ruby.” Her voice trembled, and the tears started again.

  “Okay. Easy, Patience. What about Ruby?”

  “There’s a gunman in her shop.”

  He felt the first quick jolt of fear. The gunshot. A trick? God in heaven, why hadn’t he stayed with her? What if...?

  “He said he’ll kill her unless you come to her shop alone and unarmed. Oh, Marshal, he means it. He’s already shot Neville Oakley.”

  Another stab of fear, but he pushed it aside. “Is Neville dead?”

  “I don’t know. The gunman wouldn’t let me go to him.”

  “And Ruby? Has he...” He couldn’t seem to form the words. “Is she all right?”

  “There’s blood on her face.”

  He thought, for the space of a moment, his heart might stop.

  “But it doesn’t look too bad. Just a cut and bruise.”

  He clamped down on his feelings.

  “All right now, Patience. You’re going to have to hold yourself together. You’ve got to be brave. I need you to find my deputy and have him wait, with as many armed men as he can find, near the edge of town. Then you need to fetch Doc Prentice. Tell him to get close to Ruby’s shop, but not to show himself. Think you can do that?”

  She swallowed, then nodded.

  “Good girl. Now think, Patience. Did this gunman tell you his name?”

  She nodded again. “Boyd Barlow.”

  She saw the instant change in Quent’s face. Shock. Anger. And then something so dark, so frightening, she shrank from him.

  He stood and began unbuckling his gun belt. Alone and unarmed. That’s how Barlow wanted it played out.

  There was no room for fear now. Or for what-ifs. The only thing that mattered now was Ruby. He would do whatever he had to. And if it meant his life for hers, he’d give it gladly. His life wasn’t worth a damn without her.

  Ruby knelt beside the still form of Neville Oakley. There was a pulse. Feeble, thready, but a faint heartbeat. Enough to assure her that for the moment the gentle giant was still alive. She wrapped the quilt around him, then shot a hateful glance at the gunman who stood at the window, watching the street.

  “Your lover boy will be here soon,” he said with a shrill laugh.

  Quent would come, she knew. And because of his feelings for her, he would do as this monster ordered. He would come alone. Unarmed. And risk his life for hers.

  She blinked away the tears that threatened and touched a hand to the rope of gold at her throat. “Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “What shall I do? Please help me. I can’t bear the thought of Quent sacrificing his life for mine. What shall I do?”

  Almost at once she remembered something her father had told her when she was young.

  It was on one of his infrequent visits. She had confided, tearfully, about the cruel taunts of classmates and teachers.

  “Then it’s time I shared this secret with you, Ruby,” her father had said. “In my dealings with ordinary people I try to be a gentleman. In my business dealings I try to be an honorable man. But in my dealings with bullies I have a secret weapon.”

  “What is it, Papa?” she’d asked, eager to hear the secret that would end these acts of cruelty.

  Onyx Jewel had smiled. “I never let them see my fear. Because bullies are cowards who hide behind cruel words, or behind a stick, or a rock, or a gun. They prey on those who can be hurt by their words, or their weapons.”

  “But I am afraid, Papa. I don’t know how not to be.”

  Seeing that she still didn’t understand, he’d said gently, “It isn’t that I have no fear. Every man is afraid of something. But fear must be put aside for the moment, so that energy can be put to better use. In your battle with a bully, you have to fight like the bully does. Whether with words or guns or even tricks. Never let him see your fear. That way, he’ll never get the best of you, Ruby. That way,
the bully can never win.”

  Those words had kept her sane when Sister Clothilde had locked her in the box for over an hour. And through the years those words had kept her going, despite the cruel taunts of others. She’d learned that there would always be another bully. But she would never let him get the best of her.

  And now, remembering her father’s words, she experienced a strange sense of calm. Thank you, Papa. I remember. I’ll fight like he does. This bully won’t win. I promise.

  This was not a time for tears or weakness. What was needed now was courage. Fearlessness. Defiance.

  She would watch and wait. And if even a single moment’s opportunity presented itself, she would seize it.

  The sky was awash with stars. Clouds scudded across a full moon. The main street was deserted, except for a few lovers taking advantage of the night to linger in each other’s arms. Most of the townspeople had made their way back home, or to their wagons. The lights were going off at Millie Potter’s boardinghouse.

  Quent walked alone.

  He loved this town. He knew every person in it. Knew their history, their secrets, had shared many of their joys and sorrows.

  He’d never questioned why he did what he did. Had never given much thought to the fact that he was willing to step forward and fight their fights, risk his life for theirs. Oh, he’d seen the respect in their eyes for his father. But he hadn’t stepped into his father’s role just out of a need for respect. It had gone much deeper. He’d realized, when his father was shot dead by an outlaw, that a shining light had been extinguished.

  Tonight, another shining light was threatened. Another outlaw had a need for vengeance.

  Not this time, he vowed. Not while he still had a breath left in him.

  He strode up to Ruby’s shop.

  From inside came Boyd Barlow’s voice. “That’s close enough, lawman. Lift those hands.”

  Quent raised his hands, then waited until the door was thrown open. He stepped inside.