acquainted.
Nash had taken his share of girls to local dances, but the idea of marrying one had made his future at the mill less and less appealing. If he had a wife—and most likely a young family—he’d be stuck there forever.
One evening he had shared with Pearl his hopes for having a ranch. After talking to her mother, she’d approached him a few days later with the offer of turning the Dearing farm into a ranch. The land was there, the buildings, even fertile fields for hay and alfalfa. Everything he needed for a start. He’d set aside some savings, which he could use to buy horses.
Nash let himself out of the stall and checked on the mares as he made his way toward the front of the stable.
As he’d pondered it over, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted that land, he’d considered his father’s reaction. Nash had thought about their future living arrangements—and how everything would be more suitable and proper if he and Pearl married. His father would likely be more tolerant of Nash’s choice if love was involved.
And so he’d proposed, and Pearl had cheerfully accepted. They’d made the best choice for everyone concerned, and Nash had his ranch.
It had been easy to love Pearl. She was kind and loving and never complained, even when he worked long hours and spent nights in the barn with foaling mares. She had Laura for company, and later the children kept her busy.
In his heart, though, Nash sometimes feared he’d cheated her. He’d always planned that there would be time to make it up to her, time when they could take trips and he could lavish attention on her as she deserved.
But the horses always needed his attention. And then Laura had become ill, and Pearl had devoted more of her time to her mother. Nash recalled one evening in particular, when he’d entered the house after dark and Pearl had still been in the kitchen. The sweet smell of peaches hung heavy in the air. A dozen Mason jars sat cooling on the table, and his wife was washing an enormous kettle. She set it on the stove when she’d dried it, and turned to greet him with a weary smile.
“Are you hungry?”
“I ate with the hands.”
“Maybe a dish of peaches then?” One slender strand of hair had escaped the neat knot she always wore, and touched her neck. She tucked it back in place.
“You need your rest.” He stepped close and reached behind her to untie her apron. He hung it over the back of a chair. “Go on upstairs. I’ll bring water.”
The image faded in Nash’s mind. He had more and more trouble remembering their exchanges, especially with Ruby here. Ruby’s vibrant presence overwhelmed his senses.
Was that why he had so much trouble accepting her? Because she made him feel as though he was losing another part of himself? Just by being here she pointed out things he didn’t want to admit.
Ruby had been making a visible effort to ingratiate herself. She had taken some pretty harsh news and done her best with it, all things considered. He couldn’t argue about her right to be here. He didn’t have to approve of what she’d done in the past.
When he thought about the situation like that, he went back over his decisions. What would Pearl want him to do? What would Laura expect? He extinguished the last lantern and looked toward the darkened house.
He owed it to Pearl to give Ruby a chance.
The following morning, she was awakened by Nash’s voice shouting up the stairs. “Ruby!”
“What did I do now?” she grumbled, climbing out of bed and tugging on a wrapper. She padded to the head of the staircase and looked down. “Good morning.”
He stood in the entryway, looking upward. “Dugger and I are ready to move furniture before we head out to check stock.”
She darted back the way she’d come. “I’ll be right down!”
She had no idea what had changed his mind, but she was thankful. A glance in the mirror made her laugh. Her hair had a life of its own, and mornings weren’t her best. She could only imagine what Nash had thought.
She pulled on one of her mother’s brown skirts and a lightweight shirtwaist, found her shoes and tugged her obstinate hair into a tail.
Dugger handed her a cup of coffee as she landed at the bottom of the staircase. “Nash made a pot. Didn’t know if you like it sweet or not, so it’s black.”
She noted the front door had been propped open with a length of wood. “Black is perfect, thank you.”
She blew on the steaming cup, took a sip and steadied the coffee as she followed him to the parlor.
“How many rooms do you want to do?” Nash asked. “We can carry out the dining room furniture, too, if you like.”
“I would appreciate that. I’ll go take dishes out of the china cabinet.”
He nodded and set to work. Within forty-five minutes, two rooms of furniture had been moved to the porch and the front yard. Her mother’s dishes sat in neat stacks along one wall of the hallway.
“Is there a wagon I can use to bring supplies from town?” Ruby asked Nash before he could leave. “I’ll hitch up my own horse.”
He gave her a hesitant nod. “I’ll move the buckboard out where you can get to it. Might want to introduce your mare to the big bay in the corral. He’s good as the other half of a team. Doesn’t spook easily.”
Because Pearl’s death had occurred when a wagon turned over, Ruby’s question probably stirred up those memories.
“What’s his name?”
Nash gave her a surprised look. “Boone.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded, and he and Dugger headed out.
All morning, Ruby scrubbed and dusted and polished windows. While the wax dried on the floors, she washed up, changed into clean clothing and headed for town. She would much rather have saddled the Duchess and ridden her, but that left the problem of getting things back to the farm. Ranch, she corrected herself.
Fences were in good condition, and the horses in corrals were handsome and healthy. She could see the results of Nash’s hard work everywhere.
Butterflies attacked her stomach as she reached the outskirts of town. She hadn’t been this nervous about going home. There would be a lot of people who remembered her from years ago, and most folks had known her mother and Pearl. As far as Crosby was concerned, Ruby already had a reputation.
One other buckboard sat in front of the mercantile, so she stopped behind it. The bell over the door rang as she entered the store.
“Be right with you!” a man called.
A combination of smells assailed her senses, bringing back vivid memories. Coffee, kerosene, leather and brine combined to transport her to her childhood,
