Chapter 4

R obert retreated to his solitary camp in a grove behind the trading post. Hiram had invited him to share the small quarters in the back of the store, but the man snored like a mad bull. No thanks. Better to be out in the open, enjoying the star-dotted sky and his own thoughts.

Ruby's family seemed nice. Warm, welcoming. The whole place was full of love. Of course, as they'd told him, four marriages had taken place since they'd started out. And Dobie had been found orphaned and welcomed into their midst. You could rightfully say love lived in their midst.

Ruby was fortunate to belong to such a family.

He chuckled. He'd enjoyed the time he'd spent with her, and tomorrow promised more of the same.

His smile lingered as he woke the next morning. He stayed between his covers, savoring the promise of sunrise and, even more, the plan to show Miss Ruby the wonderful things Cypress Hills offered. Soon, it was time to start the day, and he hurried to dress and put away his things. Before he took time for coffee, he meant to patrol the place. The Millers and Woods were stirring. Sunlight flashed off coppery-blonde hair. He paused long enough to see Ruby go to the fire with a large coffeepot. Stood a moment, smiling at the sight and letting pleasure warm his insides.

In minutes, the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky. A gentle breeze sifted across the treetops. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and grass. It was going to be a good day. Made all the more gratifying by sharing it with a pretty young gal.

He moved on.

One camp of men concerned him. Tough-looking riders, they'd ridden in midday yesterday, their horses coated with sweat and dust. As soon as they'd seen his red serge, they'd stared and then developed a sudden, intense interest in preparing their campfire. Of course, some men were unaccountably nervous around a Mountie. It might signify a guilty conscience. But they'd done nothing he was aware of, and until he knew otherwise, he would simply keep an eye on them.

Today he'd put aside his red coat, choosing instead his favorite gray shirt with the black trim. After all, he wasn't here on assignment, though as a Mountie, he was always on duty. But today, he wanted to be Robert Davis. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But even without the bright jacket, the four men studied him with narrowed eyes and then turned their backs as if the fire they cooked over needed emergency tending. Their actions were certainly not welcoming. His scalp tingled. What were they hiding? Or were they afraid of him?

He slowed his steps. Considered joining them and making friendly conversation. But no doubt they'd find his friendliness something else. His gut twisted. Were they up to something or just a no-good bunch always on the brink of bad news?

At the other camp, one of the six friendly men called to him to join them for coffee. An invitation he was only too glad to accept. He'd already learned the men were planning to file on homesteads. They hadn't decided if they should choose near here or go further west and asked his opinion. No need of telling them he had his eye on the best spot in the West. Just as soon as he finished with his contract as a NWMP in a few weeks, he'd file on it.

Instead, he gave his opinion. "If you're wanting good farmland, I'd suggest looking for a flat area with only a few trees."

He downed the rest of his coffee and moved on, following the trail to the barn. He saddled his horse and rode to a spot that allowed him to see for miles.

No dust rose in the distance. No smoke trailed upward signaling a camp.

Yesterday, he'd have been disappointed the horses weren't arriving.

Today, he was grateful. It gave him time to show Ruby around.

He rode on another half mile, then turned back, satisfied he'd done his duty and there was no reason for concern so far as he could tell. He returned his horse to the barn and ensured he had food and water. The would-be homesteaders waved as he strode past. The other camp watched him without a word of greeting.

Before he turned aside at the trading post, Bertie called.

"Mr. Mountie. Hi." He trotted over in a lopsided gait, his dog and goat following.

Robert waited. "Good morning, Bertie." The goat butted Robert. "Good morning to you too, Alice."

"Alice like you."

The dog, called Limpy for obvious reasons, lowered his hindquarters to the ground. His tongue lolled out in a way that said he would like to be greeted too and maybe petted.

Robert patted the dog's head. His fur was surprisingly soft. "Hi, Limpy."

"Limpy like you." Bertie tipped his head from side to side, assessing Robert. "I like you too."

What had he seen that he liked? Or maybe Robert's friendship with Carson gained him approval.

Bertie nodded. "Ruby like you."

Robert couldn't say if it was a question or a statement. Before he could find an answer that satisfied both possibilities, Bertie asked another.

"Why you not wear your red shirt today?"

"Decided against it." Across the distance separating them, Ruby watched Robert. Curious? Interested? Eager? To see him or only to have him reveal more surprises in the hills?

Bertie shook his head hard. "You Mountie. You wear red shirt. Like Carson."

"Is it all right if I don't put it back on right away?"

"You not like it?"

"I like it fine. But it gets hot."

"Oh."

Gabe watched them. "Bertie, come for breakfast. Robert, please join us."

Robert welcomed the invitation but didn't want to appear too eager. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Gabe waved him forward.

"Very well. And thank you." With Bertie at his side, the dog at their heels, and Alice bouncing up and down like her legs were full of springs, he joined those gathered at the camp. "Good morning." The greeting was meant to include them all, even if his gaze lingered longer on Ruby. Long enough for her to duck her head as pink stained her cheeks.

He waited until Ruby chose a spot to sit and then sat beside her. The look she gave him could be regret or reproach. But it certainly wasn't gratitude that he'd chosen to sit there.

Not that he meant to let it affect him, and he sure wasn't going to move to another spot. Instead, he bowed his head while Gabe asked the blessing, accepted the plate of food Hazel offered him, and ate, taking part in the conversation, mostly because they continued to ply him with questions about Carson until he plumb ran out of information. Thankfully, they then turned to other things.

The meal was good. Much better than he would've made for himself. The coffee was excellent and the company even better.

Ruby refilled his coffee cup. But she said little while the others talked about their plans. However, she laughed softly as Petey wrapped his arms around Limpy's neck and kissed the dog. Amusement rounded her cheeks and then lingered in her eyes. She must have felt Robert's gaze on her, for she glanced at him from under her dark lashes. Then, she found the red coals interesting to study.

The meal over and done with visiting, he pushed to his feet. "I'll go tidy up my campsite. Ruby, when would you like to go look at more flowers?" Though he had many other things to show her.

"I—" She shook her head.

Mrs. Miller patted her daughter's hand. "She'll want to help clean up and prepare food for the next meal. Why don't you come back in an hour?"

An hour? He only needed ten minutes to take care of his chores, but fine. He could wait an hour. "I'll be back." He strode away without a backward look.

It indeed took him ten minutes to tidy his camp. He'd safely stowed his service revolver beside his saddle and slung his pack of supplies over a high branch where it wouldn't tempt wild animals.

He hung his red serge from a branch and brushed it clean and then stepped back to study it. Bertie thought he should wear it all the time. He ran his finger along the sleeve. Rubbed a shiny button. It wasn't as if he objected to wearing it. In fact, he kind of liked the respect it garnered. But not today. Today, he was simply Robert Davis, taking a pretty gal out, hoping she'd enjoy herself. Today might be all they had to enjoy each other's company. He'd be moving on as soon as the horses arrived. And the wagon train would resume its journey once they decided they were ready.

Today was for enjoyment. Tomorrow he'd put on the red, carry the revolver, and return to being Constable Davis of the NWMP.

He hunkered down beside the cold coals of yesterday's fire to wait.

Until finally… "Time to go."

Ruby was ready and waiting before Robert returned, though she did her best to appear busy so no one would think her anxious or eager. Her sketchbook was stowed in the cavernous pocket of her favorite dress. A simple style in blue-gray. She wanted it to say she was serious about her drawing and that others should take her seriously. Not that they ever did. They always saw her as Ruby, the little sister. Always would be just as Ma said.

Robert headed in her direction, and she hurried out—without going fast enough to draw attention to herself.

"Just in time to rescue me." What about this man made her want to confess things she'd never before voiced? And she couldn't blame his scarlet tunic because today he wore a gray shirt a shade darker than her dress. A fondness for that color? Another thing they had in common? "Why aren't you wearing your red jacket?"

He shrugged. "Are you going to be like Bertie and tell me I should?"

"No." But she was curious as to why not.

"We'll blend into the woods better without it."

"Fine." It made sense, in a way.

"And what did I rescue you from?"

"From myself." When he indicated the direction they should go, she fell into step with him while he shortened his stride to match hers. Could she also hope he would drop the subject she'd inadvertently introduced?

"What were you going to do to yourself that you didn't like?"

Seemed he didn't intend to ignore how she hadn't answered him. At least, not honestly and fully. "Did I say I didn't like it?"

"Not in so many words." They reached the trees and ducked under branches. She plucked off a leaf when it caught her attention. "Look at this. The leaf is orange. The veins are green. Oh, how I wish I could do this in color." She turned it back and forth, then lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Such a rich scent." Avoiding looking at Robert, not wanting to see the disbelief in his eyes, she pressed the leaf between her sketchbook pages. She'd draw it later and make notes regarding the color.

He stretched high over her head for something. A leaf. Like hers, only bigger. He brought it to his nose and inhaled. "It does smell good. Like growing things."

Like growing things? She'd once said something smelled green and been laughed at. But seems if you're big and tall and normally wear a red tunic, you can say things like that, and no one will jeer.

He held the leaf toward her, and she sniffed. "I have to agree. It smells like life. It smells green." What would his reaction be to her use of words?

"Green. I like that." He drew in a deep breath. "The woods smell green. Shall we move on?" Taking her agreement for granted, he swept aside a branch, and they went further into the woods of knotty aspens and sturdy poplars.

Bemused by his agreement as to the smell of a color, she followed him to a clearing. She didn't need to ask why they'd come to this particular spot, for she spied the lavender-and-white orchids nearby. Her breath rushed in and stalled. Her heart ticked against her ribs. Forcing herself to release her air, she eased forward and fell to her knees. "So beautiful." Her fingertip grazed the blossom, and then she opened her sketchbook, took up her pencil, and set to work. The sepals were easy to draw, and she sketched them in place, then turned her attention to the more demanding details of the frilly petals. Her attention riveted to the task.

Robert sat nearby, out of her way and quiet.

She glanced at him. "This must bore you half to death."

"Gives me time to think. And wonder."

"Oh?" What would the man have to wonder about? Except perhaps when the horses he waited for would arrive.

"Still wondering what I saved you from earlier."

Was he never going to let the subject drop? Did she have the petals frilly enough? Her mind only half on her answer, she said, "It was nothing really. I was only thinking of how I am always treated like the little sister." She used her pencil to measure the width of the lip and compare it to her drawing. "I once complained to Ma about it, and she said I would always be the little sister even when I'm old and gray." Lifting her head enough to glance at him, she smiled. "How fair is that?"

"I guess it's true. Did you mind being the youngest?"

Bent over her sketch, she was distracted by the need to get the shading correct. "Not really."

"You have a nice family."

"I know." She drew another petal. It looked good. With a sigh of relief, she sat back. "Tell me about your family."

"There's just me and my sister, Henrietta."

"Is she older or younger?"

"Older by three years."

"Then I guess that makes you the youngest as well. Something else we have in common." Like flowers and soil and gray clothing.

"In a way, yes. But I had three younger brothers. Only Timmy lived past being a baby. He made it to three."

Although his voice was even, his depth of pain echoed in her chest. She pressed her hands to the spot to calm it. "Robert, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it was hard on my parents. Pa started drinking heavily after Timmy died. And he—" He shrugged. "Well, things changed."

Satisfied the orchid's details were correct, she made notes in the margin about the colors. Then she closed the sketchbook and edged back until she sat close to Robert. "Where are your parents now? And Henrietta?"

"Ma and Pa have both passed on. I haven't heard from Henrietta since this past Christmas. She sends a note every year, and I do the same."

"Goodness, you are very much alone, aren't you?"

"Pretty much so."

"I can't imagine."

"I haven't seen Hennie in twelve years." He stared into the distance. Perhaps thinking of the past. Maybe even regretting parts of it.

For sure, she'd have regrets if she hadn't seen one of her family members for twelve years. "I haven't seen Carson in three years, and that's about more than I can bear, even though he writes often."

"Like I said, when Timmy died, our whole family kind of fell apart. That's when Hennie stopped moving with us. I might have, too, but I was concerned about Ma. Pa wasn't always nice to her."

Ruby sorted through the things Robert told her and the things he hadn't said. "I'm guessing your pa wasn't nice when he was drinking."

"That's for sure."

"Where were you living?"

"Timmy's buried in a place called Whitmore. And that's where Hennie lives."

"What an odd way to inform me that's where you lived."

Robert sat up and leaned over his knees. "We only stayed there long enough to bury Timmy."

"And then what?"

"We moved on. We always moved on—from the time we docked in Halifax after the trip across the ocean from England. We lived in Everlast, Chester, Digby, Benton, Red Rock, Newtown. The list outgrew my memory by the time I was eight. About the only thing I cared to learn about any town was where the store was. And the school, though I seldom attended. Ma taught me to read and write."

Did Robert know how much pain edged his words? All she could offer were weak whispers of comfort. "Robert, I am so sorry." And a gentle touch. She rested her hand on his back. His muscle rippled beneath her palm. His spine rose as if his lungs had expanded.

"I learned a lot, and most of it helps me every day." Her hand fell from his back as he scooted against the tree closest to her. "I know how to deal with a drunk. How to offer help to his wife. How to read people. How to confront those set on doing evil. And?—"

His sudden movement as he turned to face her sent a start through her veins.

"I learned the importance of home and family." Conviction flared through his eyes before he eased back. "You are fortunate to have such a large, caring family."

"I realize it."

"Why would you ever want to leave them?"

"Leave them? Oh, you mean to go to Banff?"

He nodded.

"Because my work is important." She couldn't keep the hurt from her voice. Didn't even try. "I want to be part of something big."

"Guess you wouldn't be anyone's little sister there."

"I suppose that's true, though I've never thought of it."

His gaze bore into hers. And then he shook his head. "I want to have a home. Rather than wander like my pa. I aim to put down roots like a big old oak tree."

"As a Mountie? Seems they get sent hither and yon."

"I finish my contract in six more weeks. I have my eyes on a beautiful quarter of land. As soon as I'm free, I intend to file on it." His eyes lit up. "You should see the spot. The mountains to the west. Open land to the east. A gurgling stream to one side. I plan to put my house on top of a rise that gives me spectacular views."

His smile rivaled the brightness of the sun as he eased back.

For several moments, neither spoke. Then he gestured toward her sketchbook. "Are you finished with your drawing?"

"I think so. I'm never completely happy with the results. Black and white doesn't do the flowers justice."

"I suppose not." He shifted to see her face. "What will your ma say when she learns you plan to go to Banff? Won't she be disappointed?"

"Because I don't stay with them?" Ruby shrugged. "She'll have Bertie to take care of. And Petey to enjoy. And then I expect there will soon be babies." She pushed to her feet. "Is there more to see?"

And less talk. Especially talk that suggested she was being—"It's not selfish to plan to put the talent God has given me to good use. Teaching others about the flowers. Helping them see beauty."