The Promise of Forgiveness (7 page)

“Cases like this take time.” His smile slipped. “If we come up with a promising lead, I'll be in touch.” The deputy drove off.

What the heck had gotten into Ruby—she'd acted like a mama bear protecting her cub. So what if Hank had lost a few bovines? “Were you kidding about leaving me the ranch?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“It's all I've got to make up for the past.”

Damn Hank McArthur. Ruby didn't want his stupid ranch. She'd answered his summons because she'd needed to know more about her birth parents and their medical histories. Accepting the house and property would mean that she forgave him for not raising her. And she didn't want to forgive him.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

J
oe spotted the patrol car speeding away as he pulled up to the barn and got out of his pickup. As soon as he finished mucking the stalls he'd find Hank and ask if Randall had any new information on the missing cattle.

“Where were you?”

He stopped midstride and glanced to his left, where Mia stood, holding a pitchfork. The fact that he'd walked into the barn and hadn't felt a presence proved Ruby and her daughter were interfering with his concentration. “What are you doing in here?”

“What does it look like?” Mia tossed a pile of soiled hay into the barrow. “I'm getting used to the poop,” she said. “The barn smells like our old yard when the Lil' Stinky truck pumped out our septic tank.”

“I'll finish up. You can go back to the house.” He removed the pitchfork from her hand and stabbed the pronged tool into the dirty hay.

Mia jumped aside when horse dung sailed through the air, missing the barrow. “I picked out names for the horses,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?” Apparently his boss had passed on his stubborn streak to both his daughter and his granddaughter.

“The black one is Pretty Boy, the gray one is Sugar, and the brown one is Lonesome.”

Mia sprawled across the hay bales stacked in the corner. “Do you have any kids?”

Joe braced himself for the sharp pain that always pierced his heart when he thought of his son, but this time there was only a twinge. Until last night when he'd unloaded on Ruby, Joe hadn't spoken about Aaron to anyone—not even to Hank. “I don't have any children.”

“I wish I had a brother or a sister,” she said.

Joe had wanted more children after Aaron was born, but Melanie had said one was all she could manage. Would a second child have held their marriage together after they'd buried Aaron? Maybe not, but he'd have had a reason to wake up each morning. Another son or daughter wouldn't have erased the pain of Aaron's death, but it might have prevented Joe from shutting himself off from others. Having someone who depended on him would have encouraged him to at least give a damn.

“Have you ever been married?”

“Yes.” Joe set aside the pitchfork, then broke open a fresh hay bale and spread it in the stall.

“I wanted my mom to marry Sean, but she broke up with him for no good reason.”

So Ruby had been involved with a man before leaving Missouri.
It's none of your business
. Maybe not, but he'd spilled his guts in the bar, so he got a free pass to be nosy. “What happened to Sean?” When Mia didn't answer, Joe turned and came face-to-face with Ruby.

She struggled to keep a straight face. “What happened to Sean what?”

His gaze darted past Ruby—Mia had snuck off. “Sorry. Your daughter mentioned him, but it's none of my business.” He pushed the barrow to the next stall, which had already been cleaned.

“Sean and I were together for nine months before I ended the relationship.” Ruby stared into space.

“Regrets?” he asked.

“Not really.”

That wasn't exactly a
no.
“What happened with Mia's father?”

“We never married. I gave him a lot of chances to do right by me and Mia, but he blew us off.”

“Hold still.”

“What?” Ruby's eyes rounded.

Joe brushed his fingers against her shoulder. “Spider.”

“Did you get it?” She swatted her hair and jumped around. “I hate spiders.”

“You're going to break your neck if you keep flinging your head like that.” He grinned at her antics.

She was halfway through the barn before she stopped and faced him. “I came in here to tell you that Hank made tuna sandwiches for lunch.”

“What did Randall want?”

“The deputy was more interested in why I'm at the ranch than in finding cows.”

“I figured as much.”

“Are you busy later?”

“No.”

“Would you mind giving me a tour of the ranch?” She spread her arms wide. “Apparently I'm going to inherit all this when Hank dies.”

Joe hoped that day wasn't coming anytime soon. He liked working at the Devil's Wind—it was the first place that had felt a little like home since he'd left Tulsa.

“Sure. I'll show you the property.” Joe stood by the doors and watched Ruby cross the driveway, then veer toward the corral, where Mia sat on the rails talking to Pretty Boy.

Maybe it was a good thing Ruby intended to leave next week. Since she'd arrived yesterday Joe swore the sun shone a little brighter and the air tasted a little less dusty.

And
he
felt a little more guilty because he'd noticed.

•   •   •

“
Thought you were going inside to eat, Mia.” Ruby stopped at the corral.

“She ate already.” Hank ambled toward them. “This one is yours.” After handing off the sandwich, he climbed the rails and sat next to Mia.

Ruby took a bite of tuna fish, perplexed when Hank and Mia just stared at the horse. “What's going on?”

“Shhh . . .” Mia pressed a finger to her mouth, then whispered, “Hank says the best way to make friends with a horse is to be quiet and wait him out.”

Hank slid his fingers into his shirt pocket, but Mia nudged him in the ribs and he left the cigarettes alone.

“So all you have to do is sit there and the horse becomes your friend?” Pretty Boy answered Ruby's question when he moved within touching distance of Mia.

“Put your hand out,” Hank said. “Nice and easy. Let him sniff.”

Mia followed his instructions, and Pretty Boy dipped his head, bumping his nose against her palm.

“He's telling you it's okay if you touch him.”

Mia rubbed her fingers over the gelding's nose. “I won't hurt you, Pretty Boy.” She smiled at Ruby. “He likes me.”

“I can see that.” It had been forever since her daughter had smiled at her, and the sweet expression brought a lump to Ruby's throat.

“Look who's coming over.” Hank stuffed his hand into his pants pocket, then handed Mia two sugar cubes.

The horse head butted Pretty Boy out of the way, and Mia giggled. “You're spoiled.” She held out her palm, and Sugar lapped up the cubes. Then Pretty Boy bumped his nose into Mia's chest. Mia giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“He likes the way you smell,” Hank said.

“I know, Pretty Boy.” Mia closed her eyes when the horse blew in her face. “You don't like Hank 'cause he stinks like cigarette smoke.”

Hank chuckled. “You might be right about that, granddaughter.”

“Go get Lonesome, Pretty Boy,” Mia said. “He looks sad standing by himself.”

“Maybe Lonesome just wants to be left alone,” Ruby said.

“No, he doesn't.” Mia tugged Hank's shirtsleeve. “Can I go over there with him?”

“Wait here.” Hank climbed down off the rail. Lonesome stamped his front hoof, kicking up a cloud of dust as his owner drew close. When the horse stepped toward Hank, Mia's face broke into a wide grin.

Feeling like a third wheel, Ruby went into the house and finished her sandwich in front of the kitchen window. After several attempts, Hank got Lonesome to follow him over to Mia.

When Mia opened her arms wide, Ruby expected her to hug Lonesome—but she hugged Hank. His skinny arms patted her awkwardly on the back.

Ruby turned away from the poignant scene.

“W
hat are Hank and Mia doing this afternoon?” Joe steered the pickup west toward a sky full of dark clouds.

“I imagine they'll hang out at the corral.”

“Has Mia always been interested in horses?”

“Nope. Just since we got here.” She stared out her window.

Joe could take a hint. Ruby didn't care to talk about her daughter's infatuation with the ranch's equine boarders. Fine by him. He had other questions for her, which kind of surprised him, considering he'd become antisocial after Aaron's death.

“What made you decide to relocate to Kansas?”

She turned, her shoulders squaring off with him. He got the feeling just about everything in Ruby's life was a touchy subject.

“A job,” she said. “I worked for the past three years as the assistant manager for the Booneslick Lodge. I told my boss that I needed a new challenge.” Ruby faced forward in the seat. “She used her business contacts to help me land a position at the Red Roof Inn in Elkhart.”

“Why transfer to another small town and not a city like Saint Louis or Chicago?”

Ruby pressed her fingertips into her thighs until the skin around the nail turned white. “I don't like big cities.”

It wasn't any of his business what had driven Ruby and her daughter out of Pineville, Missouri. Whether a person remained in one spot or moved from place to place, everyone was running from something.

“Who named the rock Fury's Ridge?” she asked.

“The Osage Indians. It's rumored to be an ancient burial site.”

“It looks like a final resting place for damned souls.”

The pickup hit a bump and Ruby bounced off the seat. “Part of me wants to snub my inheritance.”

He opened his mouth to tell her not to make any rash decisions but changed his mind. He didn't want to give her the impression that he came with the ranch. He'd already said too much at the Possum Belly. And because he'd opened up about Aaron, the choke hold his son's death had had on him loosened and he almost felt human again. He had Ruby to thank for the change in him.

He veered left, taking a fork in the road that led away from the churning sky. The wind blowing through his open window carried the scent of ozone from the lightning show miles away. He pressed on the accelerator and the speedometer edged toward sixty. Then he slammed on the brakes and put his arm out when Ruby flew forward. The truck skidded to a stop next to a stock tank riddled with bullet holes. Whoever'd used the metal reservoir for target practice had done so recently, because the ground was still damp.

“Wait here.” He shifted into park, then got out of the truck. The wind roared in his ears and a violent gust pelted his skin with stinging bits of dirt. Thunder rumbled and the dark clouds overhead boiled and churned. If he didn't know better, he'd believe the Devil's Wind was a portal to hell—a fitting place for damned souls like his.

He crossed the soggy ground and peered inside the tank. Less than a foot of water remained. Shell casings littered the dirt. He picked one up and then returned to the truck and tossed the souvenir to Ruby before removing a pair of binoculars from beneath the seat.

“What's in that direction?” She wagged a finger at the barbed-wire fence stretching across the land.

“The Bar T.”

She studied the bullet casing. “Maybe Hank's neighbor did this.”

Joe surveyed the area before getting back into the truck and driving off. “After Hank returned from the hospital with his pacemaker, Sandoval showed up at the door and offered to buy the Devil's Wind.”

“Hank wouldn't sell.”

“No. A few days later a section of fence between the two ranches came down and cows went missing.”

“Is Sandoval trying to intimidate Hank into selling?” she asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Are you going to contact the deputy and report the damaged water tank?”

“It won't do any good.” Joe closed his window. “Sheriff Mike Carlyle is Sandoval's cousin. Unless Hank has concrete proof—which he doesn't—that the Bar T cowboys are vandalizing the Devil's Wind, the sheriff won't investigate.”

“You haven't caught anyone trespassing?”

“No.”

“Maybe I'll stop by the sheriff's office before I leave town.” Ruby shouldn't care about Hank's problems—he'd never been there for her to lean on through the years. Still . . . the little girl inside her, who badly wanted a father's love, couldn't leave Oklahoma without conveying her concerns to the lawman. Besides, Mia would never forgive her if she didn't do everything in her power to help Hank.

“I don't see any cattle. Where's the herd?”

He pointed to a group of cows taking shelter in the underbrush.

“How large is the Devil's Wind?”

“A thousand acres—about one and a half square miles.”

If Hank had had such a rough childhood and had run away as a kid, how had he ended up owning a ranch?

“Storm's getting close.” Joe turned the truck around. “We'd better head back.”

“Does Hank have a shelter?”

“There's a dugout on the side of the house.”

Hopefully Hank and Mia had run for cover. By the time Joe parked next to the barn, the wind had picked up and Ruby had to use her shoulder to push the truck door open.

“Get in the shelter.” Joe jogged to the corral, where Hank was attempting to rope Pretty Boy.

Ruby went in the opposite direction, toward the underground cellar. “Mia,” she called into the dark hole.

“I'm down here, and so is Friend. Get Hank, Mom!”

Ruby wasn't surprised that Mia was more concerned with her grandfather's safety than her mother's. Shielding her eyes, she squinted into the blowing dust. Joe was guiding the horse to the barn, but Hank struggled to walk, the tempest shoving his old bones sideways. He stumbled and fell to one knee.

Ruby rushed to his side. “Give me your hand!” He pushed her away. Ignoring his protests, she hauled him to his feet. By the time they made it to the shelter, her mouth and nose were clogged with dirt and her eyes watered. Hank wanted her to descend the steps first, but she forced him through the opening.

“Hurry, Hank.” Mia's voice spurred him forward.

The shelter door banged closed behind Ruby, and the roar of the wind faded to a loud hum.

Mia pointed the flashlight at her grandfather and laughed. “Your hair's standing up on your head.”

Hank patted his shirt pocket.

“Don't you dare,” Ruby said. “I didn't drag you down here so Mia and I could breathe in secondhand smoke.”

“Sabrina smokes,” Mia said. “She offered me a cigarette after PE class.” Sabrina had been a best friend until she'd made the drill team and quit hanging out with Mia.

“Kids shouldn't smoke.” Hank coughed, either to reinforce his point or because the dank air in the shelter hurt his weak lungs.

“Have you tried to stop smoking?” Mia asked.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don't have a good reason to stop.”

“What about me? Aren't I a good enough reason?”

The door above their heads opened, saving Hank from answering Mia. Ruby caught a glimpse of black sky before Joe descended the stairs.

“Are the horses gonna be safe in the barn?” Mia asked.

“Should be,” Hank said.

Joe stood with his back to Ruby. She breathed in the scent of musty earth and hardworking male, then swallowed a moan at the rush of warmth pooling between her thighs. She shifted her feet, trying to ignore the tingling sensation.

Seconds turned into minutes, and just when Ruby thought she couldn't take the dark confined space any longer . . .
silence
.

“Is the storm over?” Mia whispered.

Joe climbed the steps and opened the door. “Coast is clear.”

Friend bolted from the cellar first, and by the time she and Mia helped Hank navigate the stairs, Joe was halfway to the barn. Ruby surveyed the damage. The big cottonwood had lost a limb but remained standing. Smaller branches littered the yard. And the screen door from the back porch rested inside the corral. Ruby groaned at the thought of all the dirt that had blown into the house.

“I'm gonna check on—”

Ruby blocked Mia's path. “Let Joe take care of the horses. I don't want you getting near them until they've settled down.”

“But—”

“Listen to your mother,” Hank said. “The animals are spooked. Best leave 'em be for now.” He walked off.

“Why don't you see what we can make for supper,” Ruby said. For once Mia didn't argue. After she went inside, Ruby caught up with Hank in the front yard. She surveyed the house. “Looks like you lost a few roof shingles.”

“Don't care about the roof.”

He should. She eyed the puddles on the porch. There wouldn't be enough pots and pans to catch all the drips if it rained for hours.

Hank placed his hand against his chest.

“Are you feeling poorly?”

Ignoring her question, he took the pack of cigarettes from his shirt and crammed them into his pants pocket, then knelt on the ground in front of the raped rosebushes. In a trancelike state, he scooped up handfuls of the red petals and dropped them into his shirt pocket.

The man exasperated her. He nurtured abused and abandoned horses. Took in stray dogs. Treated his granddaughter kindly. And mourned battered shrubs.

Why couldn't he have found the strength and courage to take care of his own daughter instead of giving her away?

Hank called you home, didn't he?

Three decades later and with the threat of poor health hanging over his head. Even so, he looked feeble and small hunched in front of the thorny perennials.

The door to Ruby's heart inched open a little wider as she dropped to her knees and helped him gather the silky petals.