Pearl (48 page)
Atticus was last and no more willing, but when Pearl refused to back down, holding out clean clothes for him too, he finally entered the pantry. A couple minutes later, he tossed his dirty clothes out the door.
‘‘Now that’s a miracle if I ever saw one.’’ Cimarron gave the boiling clothes another stir. ‘‘I just hope this can help that family. Poor is hard enough without dirty too.’’
Pearl thought about that as she tucked the two younger children into bed that night. She’d never known poor. She’d never known dirty. Her skin felt like something was still crawling on it when she recalled the morning. While she knew the saying ‘‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’’ was not scriptural, it wasn’t a bad precept to live by.
She thought back to the story hour, as they’d taken to calling that evening time. She had read with a little girl sitting on her lap, a boy at her feet, and Carl behind at her shoulder, where she could sense every move he made.
‘‘What’s that on your neck?’’ June asked the next morning during school.
Pearl’s hand flew to her collar. Sure enough, the collar had slid down. ‘‘I-I have a scar there from when I was a child.’’ She’d never said the words in public before. They stuttered and scraped over the gravel in her throat like a body drug along the riverbank.
I didn’t starch my collar enough
.
‘‘Does it hurt?’’
‘‘No, not now.’’ She tried to tug the material back up, but it wouldn’t stay.
I have to go put a different waist on
.
‘‘I am sorry you got hurt.’’ June brushed down her dress with a gentle hand. ‘‘Thank you for my new dress.’’
‘‘You are welcome.’’
That afternoon she let the three go home early because a storm looked to be heading toward them. June had not been horrified at the sign of the scar. Of course she’d not seen the entire ugly mass, pinched and bubbly like cooking oatmeal. No one had seen it since she grew old enough to take her own bath and dress herself.
She rubbed the outline of the shape with one finger. Surely no one could love someone with a disfigurement like that. Her father hadn’t. Could any man—ever?
Would Carl Hegland go to all
the trouble to make a desk like that for someone he didn’t care about?
The thought brought a warmth to her entire being. But caring and loving were two different things, weren’t they?
Even though February was the shortest month of the year, sometimes it seemed like the longest.
Rand saddled Buck and laced some things in a roll behind the saddle.
‘‘Why don’t you just marry the girl and get her out here so you don’t have to keep ridin’ into town?’’ Beans handed him a deerskin-wrapped package.
‘‘What’s this?’’
‘‘You just give it to her. You’ll see.’’
Rand shook his head at his friend’s shenanigans. ‘‘See you tomorrow.’’
‘‘Don’t hurry home. Ain’t nothin’ goin’ on here anyways.’’
‘‘Need anything from Johnny Nelson’s?’’
‘‘Plug a terbaccy if yer feelin’ generous.’’
‘‘If he has any.’’ Leastways the snow was frozen hard enough that Buck didn’t sink through. They’d kept a trail clear this year, mostly because he used it so often.
Beans was right. It was time to ask her—again. Only this time he knew how to do it right, and if she didn’t feel the same way he did when they were together, then he’d been misreading all the signs and he deserved no better than he got.
She’d leaned against him of her own accord. She smiled at him for no good reason. She sought him out when she used to just want to scream at him. He could tell by the way her jaw had tightened and her voice got real clear. She was not a screamer, but you sure knew you’d been screamed at. All in such perfect ladylike tones, albeit with flashing eyes.
The snow-covered roof of the Chateau, with tendrils of chimney smoke etched against the blue, was always visible now as he came around the last bend and before he could see Dove House, other than the two matching chimney smoke trails.
He nudged Buck into a gentle lope. The northern sky looked pregnant with more snow.
After unsaddling Buck in the shed, Rand stomped his boots on the porch and used the round broom by the back door to sweep snow off his boots and pant legs. North wind was kicking up. Good thing he’d not waited until later.
‘‘Where’s everyone?’’ He stood by the door to take off coat and hat. He’d never heard this place so quiet.
‘‘In here.’’ Cimarron called from the storeroom.
Rand followed her voice.
‘‘Hey, cowboy.’’ She turned from her seat at the sewing machine. ‘‘Ruby is upstairs with Opal, who has the measles, like most every kid in the territory, or at least this part of it. Daisy is feelin’ puny, so Ruby sent her up for a nap. Pearl is in the schoolroom without children because they are all home with the measles. She’s been doing the ironing but wanted to finish a letter to go out on the eastbound train.’’
‘‘Is Opal really sick?’’
‘‘She’s better now, but still needs to stay in a dark room, and that frustrates her out of her skin.’’
‘‘She’s feelin’ better then.’’
‘‘You had the measles?’’
‘‘Yep. One winter we all had the measles one after the other.
Ma was beginning to think we’d have permanent spots.’’
‘‘Go on up. They’re in the Red Room.’’
‘‘Red Room?’’
‘‘Belle’s room, but don’t you say that. It’s a surefire way to light her fuse. What you got in that package?’’
‘‘Don’t know. Beans sent it along for Ruby.’’
‘‘And you didn’t peek?’’
‘‘Would you?’’
‘‘A’ course.’’
‘‘How’s Jed?’’
Cimarron turned red as woolen long johns. ‘‘He bought us a piece of land just south of town.’’
‘‘On the river?’’
‘‘No, but a creek runs through it. It’s just beyond that first hill.’’
‘‘Ah, that will be a good place to live.’’ He waved with the package. ‘‘See ya. Oh, got a room free?’’
‘‘Got a bed in that four bunker empty.’’
‘‘Good. I’ll throw my roll on it.’’ Rand jingled his way up the stairs, took off his spurs, tossed his bedroll on the empty bunk, and returned to knock on the door of the Red Room. What kind of fit would Belle have if she knew about this?
‘‘Come in.’’ It was Ruby’s voice.
‘‘Rand!’’ The joy in Opal’s voice matched the smile on her sister’s face.
‘‘Hey, with a welcome like that, maybe I better go out and come in again.’’
‘‘I hope you brought some good stories along, because I’m about storied out.’’ Ruby stood and stretched her shoulders.
‘‘I brought you something.’’ He handed her the package.
‘‘What is it?’’
‘‘How should I know? It’s from Beans.’’
And he said I should
just marry you and bring you home. What do you think of that?
He knew what
he
thought of it. His whole insides leaped at the sight of her. He watched her stroke the soft deer hide. Would her hands be soft on his face? At the catch of her breath, he tore his gaze from her face to look at the gift.
Beans had outdone himself this time. The dim room did not do the necklace justice, so Ruby moved toward the window where a chink in the curtains let in a beam of light. Beans had braided horsehair to make the chain between beads formed of horn and burnished to a gleam. On the large ones he’d etched a looping design like the scrimshaw Rand had seen once, made by the Eskimos in Alaska.
Ruby held the necklace flat across the back of her hand so the dark horsehair gleamed and the beads shone against it. ‘‘Such intricate work. How does he have the patience for this?’’
‘‘I don’t know. I wouldn’t.’’ He inhaled, a scent of roses and summer floating past. She glanced up and met his gaze, a slow smile lighting her face.
‘‘Tell him thank you for me.’’
‘‘I will.’’
Ruby Torvald, I love you
. He wanted to shout it from the tops of the bluffs, holler it down the valleys, whisper it for her ears alone.
He swallowed.
‘‘Ruby, let me see,’’ Opal called from the bed.
‘‘Come over here then but don’t look into the light.’’
Opal stopped and breathed a sigh. ‘‘Ooh, how lovely. Beans made this?’’
Opal, much as I love you, why don’t you go take a nap?
‘‘Yep. He’s made earbobs too. Don’t see how his old beat-up fingers can get around all this fine work, but they do.’’
‘‘All right, Opal, back to bed. Rand, if you will be so kind as to tell her a story or two while I go check on things below, I’d be most obliged. You are staying, aren’t you?’’ At his nod, she added, ‘‘Good.’’ She tapped Opal, now back in bed, on the end of her nose. ‘‘And you, missy, if you behave, you can come down tonight for the story hour.’’
‘‘Pearl has been reading the story to me, so I didn’t get behind,’’ Opal confided to Rand.
Ruby started to scold her for calling the teacher by her first name, but sometimes keeping Opal in line on the manners thing grew too burdensome.
‘‘Ruby,’’ Rand asked after supper, ‘‘could I talk with you a bit?’’
If I wait any longer, I’ll be worse than a landslide—all rocks and
dust and destruction
.
‘‘In the schoolroom?’’
‘‘Good a place as any.’’
Ruby led the way, lamp in hand. She set the lamp on the desk, the pool of light burnishing the wood golden. She nearly bumped into him when she turned around, but he didn’t step back.
‘‘Ruby, Miss Torvald . . .’’
Why can’t I speak beautiful words?
‘‘I love you.’’
‘‘Oh.’’ She breathed the word.
Her eyes took on even more of a shimmer. He could drown in them.
‘‘Is there any chance that you have come to feel the same way?’’
‘‘By the same way, do you mean does my heart leap when I hear your voice? My knees go soft as limp dough when I stand next to you?’’
‘‘You want to reach out and touch my hand?’’ He took both of hers in his, his thumbs stroking the backs, soft like the kisses of Cat’s whiskers.
‘‘Or lean my head against your chest so I can hear if your heart is thudding like mine?’’
‘‘Is this love?’’ he whispered into her sweet-smelling hair.
‘‘I’m afraid so.’’ Ruby nestled against him.
‘‘Ah, Ruby, I’ve wanted to say this for so long now.’’
She tipped her head back to see his face. ‘‘Then why didn’t you?’’
‘‘Well, after that last time, I was scared you’d say no again.’’
‘‘No to what?’’
‘‘I want you to marry me.’’
‘‘Oh, Rand.’’ She might as well have stepped back a mile, the gorge widened between them so immediately. ‘‘I can’t leave Dove House. I promised Far—’’ ‘‘To take care of the girls?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘I know that, so I figured we could live both places. And besides, the only one left is Daisy. Ruby, we can make this work. I know we can.’’
‘‘Would you give up living on the ranch for here?’’
‘‘No, as I said, we can do both. I’m not asking you to give up Dove House. Do you hear me?’’ He took her by the shoulders and pulled her against his chest once more where he didn’t have to look into her stricken eyes. ‘‘I’m not asking you to give up Dove House.’’ He kept each word gentle but distinct. ‘‘We can manage. I know we can.’’
‘‘I just don’t see how.’’
I’m not giving up. Not this time
. ‘‘Do you truly love me like you said you do?’’