Chapter 9

R obert hated letting Ruby see him at his worst, his most vulnerable. What could he do to erase the horrible scene and accompanying smell she'd experienced? To convince her he wasn't wallowing in self-pitying memories? One way to show her he knew how to play popped into his thoughts. "Ruby?"

"Yes?" The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she edged closer.

He waited, hoping she'd kneel beside him. He sat back on his heels and prepared.

She sprinted to his side faster than he expected and dipped her hands into the water. "Yes?" She turned and flung water at him.

Just as he flung it at her.

The surprise on her face likely matched his own.

"I can't believe you did that." He managed to sound hurt, but it soon gave way to chuckles.

"Believe it." Another dash of water. "Besides, you did the same thing." Her laughter bounced along the water.

"You mean like this." He scooped water over her, soaking her hair so it fell in strands around her face. Seeing that, he sat back. What was he thinking, drenching her like that? At least he'd been careful not to wet the pocket holding her sketchbook, but a drop of water ran down her nose and hung there before she shook her head to set it free.

She continued to splash him until he caught her hands and stilled them. Rising, he pulled her to her feet. Slowly, tugging her with him and snagging his tunic as he did so, he backed away from the water and up the grassy slope, where he urged her down to sit beside him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She shifted to face him. "I only wanted to make you think fun and happy thoughts. I know your past can make you sad."

"It's hard seeing a man in that condition. Such a waste. But I wanted you to know those feelings don't last long. I was ready to get back to enjoying life."

"Good." She jolted, her eyes widened, and she reached into her pocket and slid out her sketchbook. "I forgot about it. But it's dry." She pushed aside the tendril of hair clinging to her cheek.

"Unlike your hair."

"It doesn't hurt hair to get wet." Clutching her notebook, she lay back on the grass.

He lay back as well. "Too bad we can't stay here longer."

"You mean here here or here at Cypress Hills?"

"Yes."

She laughed at his answer, then sobered. "Won't we see you at the fort?"

"We will both be moving on. You to Banff and I to that homesite waiting for me." He'd be lonely at first. Maybe he'd write to Hennie and ask if she'd find someone to marry him. The idea didn't brighten his mood. "How long do you expect to help The Society?"

She propped herself up on one elbow to consider him. "I don't know. It's not something I ever thought of. You see, I was just so happy they wanted me."

He caught the hair that hung down, thinking to push it back. Instead, he rubbed it between his fingers. "It's a pretty color."

The color in her cheeks deepened, but she didn't look away.

"I have half a mind to kiss you." His words seemed husky to his ears.

She didn't move. Did that mean she'd welcome a kiss? Then she shook her head and settled over her knees. "I plan to save my kisses for the man I'll marry."

"Very noble and right." And very disappointing.

They sat together as the warm sun dried her hair. She scooped it back, fixing it in place with a few hairpins.

"How long do you think that's going to stay there?"

"Long enough." Her words were airy.

His mouth grew strangely dry, making it impossible to ask long enough for what? "Hey, there's more to see." More than a passed-out drunk and a stream of water. He stood and helped her to her feet. She waited while he slipped his arms into the tunic and buttoned it. He ran his finger around the neckline. The thing sure did get hot.

They wandered by trees with leaves already showing the promise of autumn. He plucked a bright yellow one and offered it to her.

"Thanks." She tucked it between the pages of her book.

Spying a patch of orange flowers, he guided her in that direction.

She showed no eagerness as she opened the pages and began to draw. But soon, she bent forward, the tip of her tongue touching her upper lip.

He waited, enjoying watching her work.

When she inhaled a deep breath and looked up, he knew she'd finished the drawing. Already, the sun was high overhead.

"Time to get you back before Gabe sends out a hunting party."

She laughed just as he'd hoped she would. "You don't fool me. You're thinking of your stomach."

He might have denied it except for the loud rumble it made. She caught his hand and ran with him at her side. "We better get you back before you faint away."

He didn't bother to protest. Why should he? This was far too much fun.

Before they reached a place where they could be seen by the others, he freed his hand, and they walked sedately side by side. Realizing how cautious they were now, he chuckled.

"What?" Her look demanded an explanation.

"Us? Who'd know we were the same two who helped a drunken man and played in the water? By the way, your hair is falling down."

She bunched it up at the back of her head and jabbed in what was left of her hairpins. "I'll never convince them I am grown up if I let my hair hang down like a child."

"If I recall correctly, Irene leaves hers down."

"Which proves my point. Irene has never abandoned her wild streak." Ruby waved her hand, her expression sad, maybe regretful. "I don't understand how sedate, careful Walt ended up marrying her."

"They say love is blind."

"I'd say it's also patient and willing to overlook flaws."

"Yup. In fact, love is ready to make sacrifices." He'd expected her to have a retort. Maybe say that proved it was blind. Or something. But she walked on without another word on the subject. Not that he could fault her on that. Why were they talking about love anyway? Except as it related to Walt and Irene? Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he accompanied her to the campsite.

Without a backward look, she hurried to her mother's side to help with meal preparations.

No one spoke to Robert. He'd go to his campsite and make himself a pot of coffee, but before he'd gone two steps, Mrs. Miller called.

"Robert, I hope you're planning to share our meal. It's the least we can do after you've spent so many hours showing Ruby around. It gives me peace of mind to know she's not wandering around by herself."

Robert stopped and gathered his thoughts together before he turned. Ruby's ma made it sound like he was doing a chore, fulfilling a duty. When it was nothing like that at all, he darted a look at Ruby. Read surprise, longing, and recognition in her face. What could he say to make it clear how he felt? Something that didn't make her uncomfortable.

"It's been my great pleasure." With the way Ruby ducked her head—but not before he saw her pleased smile—he must've said the right thing. "Thank you for the invitation to share your meal. I gladly accept." He adjusted his hat. "I'll go see what the men are doing."

They stood near the oxen in serious discussion, and he joined them. Gabe was anxious to resume the journey.

"We'll need to restock our wood supply and make sure the water barrels are topped up," Joe said.

"Food is ready," Hazel called, and the men hurried to the campsite. As usual, Gabe offered up grace. As usual, the food was abundant and delicious.

They filed past the table and helped themselves. And Ruby, following him, sneakily added scoops to his plate after he'd taken what he wanted.

He rolled his head back and forth.

She muffled her amusement, though maybe not as successfully as she wanted, for several people looked at her.

"What so funny?" Bertie asked, his gaze going from Ruby to Robert and back again. "I not see anythin'."

"Nothing," Ruby murmured, keeping her head down so she didn't see the others.

Normally, it seemed to Robert, they gathered around the fire on log stools to eat. But today, perhaps because the heat was unwelcome, the family spread out, finding grassy spots where they could sit. He folded his legs and perched his plate over his knees, Ruby doing the same at his side. They could hear the others talking back and forth, but he felt like they were almost alone.

Gabe raised his voice enough to make it clear he spoke to everyone. "We need to get moving as soon as possible. That means we need to be ready once Joe deems the oxen can be put to work."

Murmurs of agreement came from the others. No doubt, they were all anxious to arrive at their new home and get settled. Did Ruby share those feelings or, like him, did she wish for a few more days enjoying each other's company? He couldn't bring himself to look at her because he knew her reasons for being eager to get there were different from the others' but no less real. No less in conflict with his. Maybe, though, they could have one more day before the oxen were sufficiently rested.

Ruby stared at the food on her plate. Why had she taken so much? Knowing her time with Robert would soon end, she was unable to swallow it. How foolish to be surprised. She'd always known it was only for a day or two. She'd have sweet memories of her time here. And drawings of beautiful flowers. And one of Robert.

Gabe's voice brought her back to the plans for leaving. "We need a good wood supply and the water barrels refilled. Food prepared for the trail. If you have letters to send, get it done." He listed several other things.

"Gabe," Ruby called. "I don't mind gathering wood."

"I'll help her." Robert's offer was what she'd hoped for.

As soon as the meal ended, Gabe handed Robert an ax, and Robert and Ruby set out. He also borrowed a tarpaulin to carry wood back in.

The woods nearby had been picked clean of deadwood, forcing them to move to higher ground.

Ruby smiled as she admitted she didn't care if they needed to go miles away.

"You're looking mighty pleased," Robert said.

"Maybe because I am."

"You enjoy gathering wood that much?"

She tapped her lips as if considering an answer, which she was. Her enjoyment came from being with him, but she wasn't so bold as to say so. "You know I prefer to be where it's quiet." She tipped her face to the sun. "Where I can enjoy nature."

"Me too."

She checked out of the corner of her eyes. He wasn't looking at the sky or the nearby trees or the distant hills. No, his gaze was on her, his eyes warm and—she gulped—full of invitation. Whatever she meant by that. "Wood." The word exploded from her without any context to give it meaning. "Firewood." Slightly better. "We need to get firewood."

"Right." His swallow was audible. "How about over there?"

"Sure." There were trees. What else did they need? She followed him. In the shade of the trees, there was scattered deadwood, though having been picked through by many travelers, the selection was down to thin branches. "Not the best selection."

"Agreed." He turned full circle, his expression thoughtful. "We could go further. Maybe back to the cliffs."

"That's a good idea." Not only was it a good distance away but also it was full of pleasant memories shared with Robert. How impossible to believe she'd known him such a short time. She'd told him more secrets, more fears, more experiences than she'd ever told anyone else, and yet she felt safe trusting him with them. They'd become good friends.

"We don't want to make too many trips back and forth," Robert said. "We should get a horse to carry the wood."

"Sounds good."

They returned to the camp to inform Gabe of their plans. He approved, and they went to the corrals and caught up Robert's packhorse.

"I'd like to stop at my camp." Robert indicated the direction they should go. They passed the trading post. Behind it, in a hollow surrounded by rocks, he'd built a fire. Tucked away in the trees were his saddlebags and a pack. "I'm going to leave my red serge here." He slipped from the jacket and pulled on the gray shirt he'd worn the day before.

"Something else we have in common," she murmured, though she hadn't meant to say it aloud.

"What's that?"

"I like gray." She swept her hand over her skirt to illustrate. "Seems you do, too."

He hung his tunic, adjusting the lapels so it retained its shape. "I have to say it looks better on you than on me." His hands stilled. Slowly, he turned. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why? Isn't it true?"

"Oh, it's true." His voice deepened. His eyes darkened.

"Then please don't apologize." Her gaze never faltered. "I don't mind a compliment from time to time."

"Good." He caught her hand. "Then let's be on our way." The horse following them, they set off for the cliffs under a warm afternoon sun, the heat relieved by a gentle breeze.

What a perfect day for an outing. How nice that having a chore to complete provided an acceptable excuse for spending the afternoon in his company.

A question occurred to her. "It seems you weren't able to attend school much."

"True."

"What about church?" Before he answered, she hurried on. "I lived all my life at Bruffin, Manitoba. Attended the same church every Sunday since I can remember. Went to box socials, Christmas concerts, and teas there. Not only was it the center of religious instruction but also where most of our social life took place. I'm trying to imagine not having that."

"We attended church, though not many Sundays at the same one." He guided the horse through a maze of rocks. "Ma had a book of lessons for Sunday school. It was big." He held his hands apart to suggest a book perhaps twelve inches high and eight wide. "There were fifty-two lessons, each with an illustration depicting a scene from the Bible along with a Bible reading and a lesson on how to apply it." The way his voice warmed made her realize how precious the memories were to him.

"What happened to it?"

"I don't know if it got lost in our frequent moves. Or—" He brightened. "Maybe Ma gave it to Henrietta."

"Have you ever asked?"

"No."

"Why not?" They reached the stand of trees at the foot of the cliff.

"You have to understand that we lost many things in our flights." His gaze sought the distant horizon. "I had a new coat that got left. Hennie was brokenhearted because she lost a book she loved." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I expect Ma lost many things."

"That's sad. I'm sorry." If only there was a way to comfort him. She settled for patting his arm.

"Maybe it helps you understand how important it is for me to have a home…a real home."

"I guess it does, and you deserve it."

"Thanks. There's some wood over there." They picked their way through the knot of trees to a spot where they could lay out the tarp. She gathered in the smaller pieces while he chopped longer logs into a size they could carry.

Their work kept them from talking.

When they had as much as Robert thought they could carry, they began the return journey. Perhaps he'd missed conversing as much as she for he spoke as soon as they were out of the trees.

"Do you know where you'll live in Banff?"

"I haven't given it much thought. I suppose they'll have a room for me where I can work and sleep." She'd thought of trips into the backcountry—her belongings on a horse. She was riding one as she wore a split skirt. She'd never gathered up the nerve to mention to her mother that she wanted to obtain one. But it would be the first thing she bought when she received payment for her pictures. But now, the idea of spending the spring discovering new flowers held less appeal than it had only days ago.

"You'd be happy in a little room?"

She laughed. "Do you forget I've spent the last months in a covered wagon? Anything else will seem almost extravagant." She'd make new friends. Perhaps not ones she enjoyed as much as Robert, but she'd be fine.

They talked about the work she'd do. About his plans for his homestead. What outbuildings he'd construct. Which places he planned to break to grow crops. Back at the camp, they unloaded the wood, stowed it under the wagons, and then returned for more.

They went deeper into the trees in search of more deadfall. Some of the logs were overgrown with vines, and he chopped them free.

"This one doesn't want to come with me." Robert bent over, grunting as he yanked. The muscles on his back corded with the effort.

"I'll help." She moved to a place in front of him and added her weight to the effort. "I felt it move. It's coming." It sprang free, throwing her off her feet. She crashed into Robert. They toppled in a tangle of tree branches and vines. His air rushed out in a blast.

She didn't move—no, wait. She couldn't move. A limb on the log pinned her in place. "I can't get up."

An ominous creak jerked her attention to the dead tree jutting up at a precarious angle. Something snapped, and it shifted.

"It's going to fall on us." Fear thinned her words.

Robert wriggled. "I'm going to get out of here."

She didn't see how but wasn't about to admit it.

He freed his arms, lifted them above his head. His chest expanded as he grabbed a nearby tree and pulled. Inch by inch, he wormed out from under her.

The tree dipped closer. Something snapped.

"Don't move." His words were sharp.

She wasn't sure she should even breathe. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw one navy-blue-clad leg move toward her.

He gripped the log, leaned into it, and gave a mighty heave. Branches snapped, shredding the air. A vine slapped across her face, but she could do nothing about it. The branch pinning her rose as the log rolled away.

Robert scooped her into his arms, backed away, and sank to the ground, holding her to his chest. His heart pounded against her arm.

"That was too close for comfort." He pressed his cheek to her hair.

A soft breath carried out her thank you.

His arms tightened around her. Not that she protested. She was safe and sheltered there and not eager to stand on her own. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

Neither of them moved. But her breathing returned to normal, and she could no longer feel the pounding of his heart. Now. Now was the time to move. Now.

She eased away from his chest.

His arms lowered to her elbows.

And then they both scrambled to their feet.

She dusted off her skirt while he looked for his hat.

He picked up the ax. "I am going to take home every inch of this tree and smile to think of it burning."

Her mouth softened into a grin. "I'll rejoice, too." Though perhaps for a different reason. Her memories would be of him rescuing her and, even more, of him holding her.

They laughed as they carried the chopped lengths to the tarp, secured it on the horse, and returned to the wagons.

The afternoon had drawn to a close. The storage area was full. She might have been distracted by a dozen wayward thoughts as she ate the evening meal. Thoughts of being held and feeling secure stood in opposition to knowing he would soon leave. Or they would.

Every minute became precious.

As soon as the dishes were done, she spoke to Ma. "The evening is so pleasant I think I'll take a walk."

"Don't be long."

"I won't." Ruby dared not glance at her sisters for fear they might read more into her plans than they had a right.

"I'll make sure she's safe." Robert followed her.

They sauntered past the barn and the corrals and up the hill, where they paused. Perhaps to watch the western sky turn pink and orange, though her thoughts weren't there.

"It seems you're ready to leave." His voice deepened. He must be as reluctant for their time together to end as she.

"No one has given a departure time. I guess it depends on how the oxen are doing." She didn't want the animals to be nursing a wound, but would it hurt for them to be tired for another day? Or selfishly two?

They stood on a hilltop looking down at the wagons and a sweeping view to the east. Dust tailed up in the distance, signaling travelers.

"I believe that's my horses being delivered."

Not already.

She managed to keep from speaking the words aloud. But she failed to keep them from stinging her heart.