He never knew whether Ruby was going to kiss him or hit him over the head with a frying pan. Raising his collar against the chill, Lucas wondered what she would be like this time.
“Reckon I’ll find out soon enough,” he thought.
A white picket fence circled what Lucas called her dollhouse. Since he was here the last time, she’d painted her home butter yellow. A man would go insane in an over-decorated house like hers. Lucas unsaddled Lady, tied her to a tall pine out front, and gave her some water from the nearby well.
As he started up the stepping stones leading to Ruby’s front porch, the door flew open. Ruby burst out onto the porch, arms outstretched, and waited for him. Her laughter, like music, floated toward him. Ruby had never lost her sense of grace or her ability to pull in the sun with one of her smiles.
“Oh, Lucas. I’m so glad you stopped by. I haven’t seen you in ages and ages.”
Since he didn’t see a frying pan in her hand, he moved forward.
Ruby had been a dance-hall girl until she’d inherited the farm from a great-aunt. Though almost forty, she looked younger. Dressed younger, too. Ruby was one of those women who refused to grow old—always trying to turn fall into early springtime. She almost got away with it.
She probably expected Lucas to marry her now that Harriet was gone. They’d been keeping company for almost ten years. But marriage to Ruby wasn’t in his plans.
Yet already, the sweet scent of her floral perfume drew him closer and closer. Around her, he always felt like a hooked trout on a short line.
Ruby’s smile evaporated, and she sent him a sorrowful look. “I regretted hearing about Harriet’s death. You have my deepest sympathy, Lucas.”
“Thank you.”
Just as suddenly, her grin reappeared. “But, as they say, life must go on.” She grabbed his hand. Pulling him forward, she opened the door. “Hurry now. We have a lot to talk about.”
“I need a drink first.”
“Later.”
Lucas stopped as soon as he walked into the house, and then he coughed. An overpowering odor of perfume choked him. The air reeked. His eyes watered. He wished for a handkerchief.
The parlor had been rearranged since the last time he had seen it. New yellow chintz curtains hung on all the windows. Orange and yellow paper flowers in white vases were everywhere. He took a moment to absorb it all.
“Like it?” she asked.
“Maybe. Now, about that drink—”
“Please, Lucas.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what you really think. It’s important.”
Breaking free of her grasp, he surveyed the rest of the room. “Where’s that there chair I always sit in?”
“Over there.” She pointed to an overstuffed chair near the fireplace.
“It used to be blue.”
“Now it’s yellow.”
“I can see that.” He looked around again. “Where’s the cabinet that you keep the liquor in?”
“I’ve rearranged a little. I’ll explain more in a minute. We should discuss a few things first.”
Here it comes, he thought.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked.
He looked down at his dusty clothes, then at the yellow chair. “I ain’t sitting in no chair like that. I might get it all dirty.”
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable if you washed up before supper. The kettle has enough hot water left to warm the tub, and the clothes you left last time you were here are clean and ready for you to put on.”
“I reckon I’d be more comfortable if you gave me a drink.” He looked around again. “Now, where did you say that cabinet was? I don’t mind helping myself, if you’ll point the way.”
“I said I’d explain later. I’m going to get the kettle. There’s already a big bucket of cold water upstairs. Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
She floated from the room on the balls of slender feet like the dancer she’d always been.
Lucas moved across the room to the china closet and opened it. He saw only white dishes.
“Looking for something?” Ruby’s voice came from behind him.
He whirled back around. “The whiskey. I was looking for the whiskey.”
“I—I don’t happen to have any down here right now.”
“Don’t have none? Why not?”
“I told you. I’ll explain after a while.”
“Well, you’re sure taking your sweet time about it, ain’t ya?”
Ruby wore a white apron edged with ruffles over her green dress. A dark green ribbon tied back her long brown hair. At hardly more than a hundred pounds, she looked like a doll herself. Except for a few wrinkles around her chocolate-colored eyes, she appeared almost as young as Honor. Regardless, she was a long way from nineteen. Lucas intended to keep that in mind when selecting a mother for his future child.
“So if you would like to go upstairs now and take a bath,” Ruby said, “you’ll find cloths for washing and drying next to the washtub.” She handed him the kettle. “I’ll have supper ready by the time you finish, and then we can talk.”
Ruby was up to something. He’d seen that look before. Still, a hot bath appealed to him. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find me some whiskey up there, he speculated.
Lucas took the stairs to the guest bedroom. Like the downstairs rooms, everything had been changed since his last visit. Sheer, yellow curtains replaced the blues ones he’d seen on the windows before, and a lacy, white bedspread covered the double bed. A tub for bathing stood in the middle of a circular rag rug. The bucket of cold water waited near the rug. Lucas put the kettle next to it.
His feet hurt from walking his horse a mile or so back, and he wanted to sit down and take off his boots. The only chair looked as fancy as the bedspread. Seated on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his boots, and Harriet’s warning filled his mind.
Don’t empty your boots on the floor, she’d always said.
Old, naggin’ women are all alike, he told himself. That’s why I’m gettin’ me a young one—like Honor.
Lucas poured dirt from his boots onto the floor until nothing more came out. Then he let them drop. Thump. Thump.
Now where would Ruby have put the whiskey? She must have a bottle or two hidden somewhere.
A chest of drawers stood against the north wall. He pulled out the top drawer and threw out what was inside, tossing everything on the
