Chapter 8

R obert smiled at the idea of sending Hennie a drawing of him. Except… Wouldn't it mean letting Ruby study him with the same concentration she gave the flowers as she transferred their likeness to the paper in quick, sure strokes? Wouldn't their gazes continually collide? Or would she see him with total disinterest? Simply a subject to be drawn? Ah, well. It would allow him the opportunity to study her without worrying about being caught staring.

A tiny sparrow fled from the grass as they passed. His horse whinnied from the corrals. No doubt wondering why his owner chose to walk, leaving a perfectly good horse standing idle.

Robert might not be wearing his uniform today, but he was still a Mountie. As such, he needed to be aware of his surroundings, perhaps even more so with a young woman in his company. The only group of travelers still there besides the Millers and the Woods was the rough-looking men.

Robert switched sides, so he walked between her and those men. He couldn't miss the way they leered at her and nudged each other. They barely stayed on the side of being law-abiding citizens.

"Hey, Mountie," one called, his mocking tone grating up and down Robert's spine. "Where's yer red coat?"

Robert curled his fists into knots but passed on without responding.

All too soon, they reached the wagons. Joe and Cecil had returned with a deer, and everyone was busy taking care of the meat.

"I have to help." Ruby brushed his arm to say goodbye, then dipped her voice to a whisper. "I'll get that picture drawn for you." She paused. "I'll need to see you in order to do that."

They were not close enough for her remark to be heard by the others. Gabe called out an invitation for Robert to join them for fresh venison steaks at supper.

His answer required no consideration. "Don't mind if I do." He joined the men cutting the meat as Ruby, casting a look over her shoulder to check on him, went to help the women pack the meat into jars and set them in a boiler of water over the fire. The family would have a supply of meat for the rest of their journey.

Bertie hovered nearby, begging for scraps for his dog and cats.

Alice must have felt neglected, for she bleated and bumped at him.

Robert stole a glance at Ruby to see if she found the sight as amusing as he did. Their gazes connected over the distance. Her lips barely moved, but the deepening at the corners of her mouth suggested she enjoyed watching her brother and his pets.

He turned his attention back to his task. He instantly liked Joe with his quiet ways, Cecil with his sense of humor, and Walt with his obviously deep sense of duty—something Robert understood and admired. And Gabe, the eldest…

How could he describe the man? Robert's throat tightened. Gabe was quiet-spoken and encouraging. As they took turns telling Robert their stories, in Gabe, Robert saw a man who worked hard to care for his family after his first wife's premature death.

How often Robert had wished for a man like Gabe for a father. A verse his mother often quoted comforted and encouraged him—Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." She'd always added, "God plans your good. Your part is to trust Him."

Just knowing such men as Gabe existed was reassuring. And from what Ruby told him, her father had also been such a man. Thank You, Father God, that she has such a family.

They soon dispatched with the carcass. The aroma of venison roasting over the coals made Robert swallow hard. By the time Mrs. Miller announced the meal was ready, his stomach rumbled a constant complaint.

Ruby tipped her head toward the stool closest to her, and he sat at her side.

Gabe stood to ask the blessing. "Lord God, thank You for Your generous provisions. Thank You for family and friends. May we honor You in all we say and do. Amen."

The food was every bit as good as it smelled. Not only were there generous portions of venison, but there were also boiled potatoes, cooked turnips, and warm biscuits. To complete the meal, Ruby handed around mouthwatering plates of gingerbread topped with a sweet sauce.

Irene paused between mouthfuls. "Ruby made the dessert."

"Gingerbread is my favorite." He smiled at Ruby as he said it, and then, lest anyone misinterpret his look, he spread his smile around the circle.

Supper ended, and everyone scattered to their tasks.

Robert took a step after the men, but Ruby called softly, "Robert, about the picture."

"Yes?"

She sidled up to him. "Meet me at the corner of the corrals in ten minutes."

"Very well." He'd go there this very minute and wait but didn't want to appear too eager. So, after thanking Gabe and Mrs. Miller for the meal, he sauntered away. He reached the trail when he realized the rough men had moved out. Strange that they left so close to nightfall. Was there a reason they liked traveling under cover of darkness? What was it the Good Book said? Men loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil .

Robert shook his shoulders. Thanks to his father, he was well acquainted with the reasons for fleeing under cover of darkness. He detoured to the trading post.

"Hiram, you have any trouble with those men?"

Hiram scowled. "Only that they was rude. I see they left. Good riddance ta bad rubbish if ya ask me."

"I hear ya." But the tension in Robert's spine didn't depart. However, he was to meet Ruby, and he hurried out.

They arrived at the corrals at the same time. She perched on an upturned bucket and began to draw on a clean sheet of paper.

"Can I watch?"

"I guess."

She drew a covered wagon with a campfire nearby and a three-legged dog. Then she shifted. "I need you to stand by the fence. Lean on the post."

He would have liked to watch her, but as that was impossible under the circumstances, he patiently stood as directed and observed how her pencil flew over the page, and her gaze went back and forth from him to her drawing.

Dusk was closing in on them when she finished. "There." She handed him the drawing. "What do you think?"

Speechless, he stared at it. There he was, leaning against the back of the wagon, his eyes watchful, his stance relaxed. "Ruby, it's perfect. I can't wait to send it to Hennie."

"You're welcome."

The men had said they would be staying one more day, and seeing as the horses hadn't yet arrived, he hoped he could spend the time with Ruby. "I could show you around some more tomorrow if you'd like."

"I would."

"After breakfast?" The fading light cast shadows around them, and yet her features remained sharp and clear…at least in his memories. He smiled at his foolishness.

"Or you could join us. You'd be welcomed by everyone."

Her hopeful tone allowed him to believe he'd be welcomed by her, and for some reason, that far outweighed the rest. "If you're sure?"

"Very sure." The whispered words deepened his smile.

"I'll walk you back to the camp." The ground was cloaked in darkness, giving him the perfect excuse to take her arm and hold it close to his side as they made their way back to where her family gathered around the campfire. Gabe held his guitar.

Didn't every eye turn toward Robert as they stepped into the flickering light? He stiffened his spine and prepared for Gabe or Ruby's mother to voice a protest at their daughter being out after nightfall, especially with a fella.

"You're just in time." Gabe nodded toward the two rough stools.

Robert released Ruby's arm but didn't proceed forward.

She took one step, realized he hadn't moved and turned around. "That's your invitation to join us."

"Of course." But it wasn't Gabe's invite that propelled him forward. It was the soft, pleading note in Ruby's voice.

Gabe and Mrs. Miller sang a duet as they had yesterday evening. Ruby murmured close to his ear. "They do this every night. I consider it their love song."

He flicked a smile at her and nodded. "That's sweet." His words barely reached a whisper.

The song ended. The couple looked at each other with such love that Robert struggled to swallow. Could he dream of having that kind of love in a home of his own? He coiled his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for Ruby. Not that she'd sprung into his mind as the one he would share his dreams with. Of course not. They'd part ways within a day, possibly two.

Gabe played a tune, and everyone joined in a song, diverting Robert from his foolish thoughts. He had always enjoyed music and added his voice, though not so loudly he couldn't hear Ruby beside him. Her voice was surprisingly deep. He listened more closely and realized she sang a different tune from the others, but it was in harmony. What did they call it? Parts? She was singing a part that bypassed every barrier around his heart and made itself right at home.

Robert shook his head. When had he ever been so silly in his thinking? But the music again caught him and carried him away. Until Gabe put aside his guitar and people began to get to their feet, bidding the others good night.

With a burst of energy, Robert was on his feet. "Good night," he muttered to the air. He made four steps toward the darkness when Ruby caught his arm.

"Tomorrow?"

Her touch, her soft reminder, brought him back to rights. "Tomorrow." The joy of the music wound around his heart as he crossed the trail and passed the trading post. He paused there to listen. From the wagon train came sounds of goodbyes and wagons creaking. In the distance, a coyote howled, and another answered. Assured none of those sounds indicated danger of any sort, he made his way to his camp. He stowed Ruby's drawing in his pack. With no need to start a fire to cook food, he unrolled his bedroll and settled into the comfortable hollow in the ground he'd created over the past few days and prepared for sleep.

First, he would say his prayers as Ma taught him and as he'd done since he was a child. A quiet chuckle escaped. He had much to be grateful for. "Dear heavenly Father, I'm glad for the chance to spend time with Ruby and her family. When I settle down and get married, I want a family like theirs." The wagon train still had a distance to go to reach their destination. He reviewed the land they'd have to cross. There was dry prairie, some steep coulees, and a couple of rivers. At least the water wouldn't be at its highest this time of year. "Keep them safe. Keep Ruby safe as she goes to Banff."

Banff—he'd heard about the place— how some fellas discovered the cave with the sulfurous-smelling hot springs. About the people—men and women both—who climbed the steep mountain slopes and explored beyond what white man had seen and recorded. Many loved the idea of exploration and discovery. But it didn't appeal to him. Nothing would satisfy him but a home with, as he'd told Ruby, roots like an oak tree.

He listed a number of things in his prayer he was grateful for besides Ruby's family—the beautiful hills and the secretive flowers he'd discovered for Ruby to draw, the magnificent cliffs with their conglomerate of gravel. The pleasant weather that enabled him to show Ruby around in comfort.

His last thought before he fell asleep was of the drawing she'd made for him to send to Hennie.

Sunrise was but a promise when he awakened. He lay staring at the fading stars. Today might be the last he and Ruby could share, and he meant to take advantage of every minute. Of course, he'd have to wait until the camp stirred and Ruby and her family gathered around the fire.

As soon as he could make out the shape of trees and rocks in his surroundings, he rose, rolled away his bedding, and washed and shaved in cold water. No doubt it would leave his face blotchy, but he didn't want to wait for water to heat.

He shook his gray shirt. He'd noticed Ruby looking at it. Perhaps because, as she said, it wasn't his red serge but maybe because it matched her dress in color. Should he wear it again? His gaze shifted between the shirt and the tunic. He was still a Mountie. Best he act like it. He donned the red jacket, hung his holster around his waist, and buckled it in place. Digging into his supplies, he found the cloth he wanted and polished his boots. Everything was put away, the campsite tidy as he moseyed to the corner of the trading post and leaned there to watch the camp across the way come alive.

Ruby was already up and held her hands out to the fire. But her gaze went beyond the flames as she scanned the area. Looking for him?

He eased from the shadows. Her gaze found him. Her hands stilled while his heart did a double take at the welcome he believed he saw. Of course, it could be his imagination or a trick of the light. Perhaps the reflection of the flames.

Not that it mattered. He clamped his Stetson tighter to his head and began the trek across the dusty trail and tramped grass. Not once did he leave off holding her gaze, not even when his toe caught on a clump of something.

The men, except for Gabe and Bertie, were with the animals. Alice bounced out to greet Robert, butting playfully at his hands until Robert patted her. Even then, Robert's gaze did not shift. When he stood across the flames from Ruby, close enough to see the spark of the fire reflected in her eyes, he smiled.

"Morning." Then, lest anyone think he only meant Ruby, he added, "All."

Ruby reached for a thick china mug, filled it to the brim with steaming coffee, and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He gulped the hot liquid and burned his mouth, which served the purpose of bringing him back to reality. Venison fried on the griddle, filling the air with a succulent aroma. He concentrated on the food and Bertie's questions. He listened to the conversation between the men and answered reasonably—he hoped—when he was expected to make a comment. But his mind stalled somewhere between that first glance across the distance and the sparkling smile as Ruby handed him the cup of coffee.

Someone placed a plate of food in his hands. Gabe prayed. Why did it all feel as if a thin curtain hung in bunches around him? When Ruby sat beside him, he sucked in air, and the curtain vanished. Not that he cared to explain what he meant by that.

His empty plate was removed, leaving him only the mug and a final mouthful of coffee.

"Ma." Ruby's voice pulled him toward her. Well, not really. It simply felt that way. "The constable has offered to show me more of the place while we're here. Unless you need me for something?"

Knowing there was always work to be done around a camp, Robert held his breath. It would likely be the last day they could enjoy together. Although, since Joe said one of the oxen still favored a foot, Robert allowed himself a thread of hope that they might be granted tomorrow. But they'd have no more after that. He would take the horses to the fort and, in a few weeks, file on his chosen piece of land. It was what he must do to fulfill the deep longings of his heart. Until he did, he'd continue to be a restless man with a deep hollowness inside.

And she would also follow her dream to her chosen task.

But in the meantime…

If she was asked to stay, he could help her do whatever chore she was assigned. For he did not want to waste one minute.

Ruby felt Angela watching her as she waited for Ma's answer. If Irene had been there, she'd have protested that Ruby was trying to get out of work, but she'd gone with Walt to check on their horses. The others were busy with other things and didn't pay any attention to Ruby.

"I don't mind if you do some exploring. At least you have a Mountie with you, so I can feel you're safe."

"Thanks, Ma." She hurried to the trees, Robert staying at her side. When they were out of sight, she hugged herself and laughed. "I was afraid she'd say no."

"If she did, I'd decided I would help you."

The idea tickled her clear through. "Even if I was washing out unmentionables?" She tried to contain the teasing smile but couldn't hold back the way her eyes squinched at the corners.

He searched her face with such intensity she lowered her gaze. "I can tell you're teasing. No, I might not have helped wring out something like that, but I can scrub shirts and trousers as good as anyone."

She waved away his claim. "So you say."

He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. "I'm a Mountie. We are required to be spit-polish clean. I'll have you know I haven't once been reprimanded for my uniform being less than perfect."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Mountie." Saluting, she stiffened her lips to keep from grinning and ran her gaze up and down his length as if inspecting his outfit. Taking in the yellow stripe on the navy trousers, the polished holster, and the red serge he wore today. Her inspection ended at the clean Stetson. Her gaze slid to his and stopped. She swallowed hard. "How do you keep so clean?"

He roared with laughter. When he was able to talk, humor still lingered in his eyes as he leaned closer. "I'll tell you the secret, but you have to swear not to repeat it to anyone."

She pressed her palm to her chest. "I solemnly swear to never repeat this awe-inspiring secret."

He studied her, then nodded as if satisfied. "We always carry some special equipment with us." He craned around as if checking for someone eavesdropping, then whispered close to her ear. "A brush and a polish cloth."

As his breath warmed her cheek, she forgot what the conversation was about. Then the truth of what he'd said hit her. Amusement began deep in her chest and exploded upward in a shout of laughter that sent the birds from the trees squawking and scolding.

Still looking serious, he caught her hand and led her through the branches. By the time they emerged on a grassy hill, they were both laughing so hard they stopped to catch their breath.

"Remember, it's a secret."

His words brought on a fresh burst of amusement. The feeling lingered in her heart as they walked along the crest of the hill overlooking a tree-studded valley that drifted away to open prairie.

They paused where the trees parted, leaving an open view.

Beside her, Robert stiffened. She glanced toward him, his attention riveted to the distance, and turned to see what held his interest. At first, she didn't see anything, and then she squinted.

"Is that a tent in the trees?"

"It is. And there's a horse tied almost out of sight." Concern deepened his voice, and he eased forward. "There's someone there. See him?"

"He's sleeping." She waved skyward. "Kind of late in the day to be asleep."

"Unless he isn't. Stay here while I check it out." He began to ease down the slope.

She had no intention of being left behind nor of letting him head into trouble while she stood by watching, so she followed.

He stopped. "Ruby, it might not be safe."

Drawing abreast of him, she looked into his face. "I won't rush in, but I don't want to be that far back." Seeing the protest mounting on his face, she touched his arm. "You don't know what you'll find. You might need help."

Perhaps sensing that she didn't mean to change her mind, he huffed. "Promise you'll stay out of sight until I assess the situation."

"Fine. I will." But if he needed help…

He must have wondered why she smiled, so she explained what she'd thought. He grinned and then, signaling her to be quiet, moved forward.

They were close enough to discern a man stretched flat out on his stomach. The smell rising from where he lay almost made her gag.

"Stay here."

She nodded at Robert's command. With no desire to get any closer to that stench, she clamped her hand over her nose.

Robert slipped his gun from the holster and edged forward. He reached the body and nudged it with his foot.

Ruby couldn't make out any movement. Was the man dead?

Still holding his pistol, Robert squatted and touched the back. He shook the person—or was it a body? It took some effort, but he turned the body over, twisting his face away from the odor.

Robert grunted. He straightened, surveyed the area, and then returned to her side, holstering his gun. "He's drunk as a dog, passed out, and lying in his own vomit and soil. I'm going to fetch some water and wash him up a bit. Maybe he'll come to, and I can find out who he is."

"Does it matter?"

"I'll report it. If he's found deceased later, at least someone will know his name."

She heard so many things in his tone—pain, sorrow, and tenderness. This had to be an unwelcome reminder of his father. He shouldn't face it alone. "I'll help you."

"Ruby, it's awful down there."

She moved up two steps so she gained some height advantage. "I am not too weak to deal with realities." The protest vanished. "I sat with Pa and washed his face and hands." Ma wouldn't let her do anything more. "There was an unpleasant odor toward the end."

"Not like that." He tipped his head toward the man in the trees. "You sit here and wait. Look, you can draw those flowers over there." He returned to the campsite, caught up a pail, and jogged downhill to the river.

Ruby waited until he returned to swallow hard, breathe shallowly, and join him.

Before he could protest, she held up a hand. "I don't feel like drawing flowers." Which had to be a first. "What can I do?" She could barely bring herself to look at the man but did so. He was unshaven, his hair and beard full of vomit. He lay in a puddle that could be a mixture of things.

"You might not want to watch this," Robert warned and waited, giving her a chance to leave.

She stayed where she was.

Robert lifted the bucket and dashed a good portion of the cold water over the man's head and then scrubbed his hand over the dirty face and matted beard.

She expected to see the man rear up in protest. But all he managed was a groan.

"Good. At least he's responding. I need to move him to a clean spot." Robert took the man's arms and dragged him away from the filth. He tossed the rest of the water on the ground, washing away some of the stench, though most of it came from the man himself.

"Stay back while I get more water." Robert jogged to the river and returned with long, hurried strides. He left the pail far enough away that the man wouldn't accidentally tip it over. Then he peered inside the tent. He picked up a whiskey bottle and shook it. Nothing came out. "Not much here." Leaving the tent, he went to the horse, untied it, and led it to water. When the animal had its fill, he tied it where it could graze. "We've done what we can. Let's go." He reached for her hand, then withdrew. "I'm dirty."

She followed him to the river. They walked along the bank until they could no longer smell the man, and he stopped.

"I have to wash. Do you mind waiting over there?" He indicated a thicket a distance away.

Did he mean to take off his clothes? Heat rushed up her neck and stung her cheeks.

Already, Robert was unbuttoning his jacket.

"Robert, are you…?" The words stuck in her throat, and she couldn't finish.

Correctly guessing what she meant, he chuckled. "Just my tunic."

She crossed her arms. "I do have brothers, you know."

He slipped out of the red serge. Underneath, he wore a white cotton undergarment. He rubbed his chest. "The thing gets hot and scratchy." He held her gaze for a moment. His throat worked. "Seeing that man reminded me of my father."

"I guessed as much." Which was why she didn't mean to abandon him as long as he was decently dressed.

"It makes me want to wash." A careless shrug. "Not just the smell of that man up there, but the many memories embedded in my skin."

"I'll wait."

With a slow, considering nod, he turned, knelt at the stream, and plunged his hands in up to his elbows.

The tension seemed to ease from him. His ribs expanded as he sucked in a deep breath. Her tension eased out as well.

Could she do something to make him forget the awfulness of dealing with the drunk and the memories it triggered?

An idea sprang into her mind.