The Promise of Forgiveness (9 page)

W
hen Ruby opened her eyes Saturday, she was alone in bed. Funny how a few horses had turned Mia into a morning person. Usually her daughter slept until noon on weekends.

Ready for whatever the day held in store for her, Ruby threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, slid her feet into her flip-flops, and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, then gulped it down before going upstairs to comb her hair and brush her teeth. Five minutes later she grabbed her purse and went in search of Hank. She found him in the backyard, staring into the branches of the cottonwood.

“Did you love my grandma?” Mia sat on a limb, her legs dangling.

“Your grandmother was the prettiest woman this side of the Mississippi.”

“What color was her hair?”

“Blond like yours.”

“If she was so pretty, why'd she like you?”

Hank chuckled. “Are you saying I'm ugly, missy?”

“You don't have a lot of teeth.”

“Had all my chompers when I was courting your grandmother.”

“Do you think she would have liked my mom?”

“Cora loved everybody.” The hollow ring in Hank's voice ached with tenderness. Thank God Ruby had ended things with Sean when she had. If this was what a person had to look forward to when they fell in love . . .
No, thank you
.

“Hang the feeder on the branch to your right.” He pointed above Mia's head.

“I need help.”

Ruby wasn't about to let her daughter fall and break her neck. She dropped her purse to the ground, climbed the stool next to the trunk, then snagged the lowest branch and hoisted herself into the crotch of the tree.

“Hold my leg,” Mia said.

Ruby clutched the calf inches from her nose. “Be careful.”

“How's that?” Mia asked.

“Good,” Hank said.

“Move, Mom.”

Ruby shimmied out of the tree, and when Mia's feet touched the ground, she said, “How would you like to go into town with me and Hank?”

“What are we going to Unforgiven for?” Hank asked.

Maybe his mind was growing as frail as his body. “We're reporting the damaged water tank to the sheriff.”

“I wanna stay here,” Mia said.

No surprise. “We'll be back soon.” Ruby pulled Hank's truck keys from her pocket, then picked up her purse. “Ready?”

Hank patted his thigh, and Friend crawled to his feet from his spot in the shade.

“Stay.” Ruby put her hand in front of the dog's face.

“He likes to go for a ride,” Hank said.

“Friend stinks. And it's too hot for the dog to wait in the truck while we speak with the sheriff.”

When they got to the front yard, Hank held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”

“I'll drive,” she said.

“I'm not an invalid.”

She took the bottle of Valium out of her purse and shook it. “If your pacemaker goes crazy, I don't want you running us into a ditch.”

He swiped the medicine from her hand, then got in on the passenger side.

Once he buckled his seat belt, she pulled away from the house. “No smoking,” she said, when he made a grab for his Winstons.

He grumbled but left the cigarettes alone. The drive into Unforgiven took a half hour—plenty of time to interrogate him. “Where were you born?”

“Dumas, Texas.”

“Never heard of the place.”

“'Bout fifty miles north of Amarillo.”

“Did you grow up there?”

“You gonna ask me questions all the way into town?”

“Yes.”

“My father left when I was ten and my mother—” He coughed up phlegm, then unrolled his window and spit. “She moved us into a rent-by-the-week motel, and I hung out at the pool while she entertained men in our room.”

“For money?”

Hank nodded.

How sad that Hank's mother had sold her body to support herself and her son.

“Were you an only child?” she asked.

“I was when my mother took off with one of her regulars.”

Ruby's relatives were a bunch of losers. The fact that she shared their genes didn't bode well for her. “Did you ever see your mother again?”

“No.”

She pictured a teenage boy returning to the motel after school and discovering his mother had vanished. At least Hank had spared Ruby that kind of hurt. A newborn couldn't know she'd been cast off. “You said you were on your own at fifteen. Wouldn't Social Services have—”

“I wasn't going to let them put me in a boys' home.” He drummed his fingers against his thighs. “I worked odd jobs for food.”

“What about school?”

“Dropped out.”

She was surprised Hank didn't have a high school education. “How'd you end up with the Devil's Wind?”

“I'm tired.” He slouched in the seat, then tipped his hat, shielding his face from view.

She'd hit a nerve when she'd asked about the ranch, which made her even more suspicious about how he'd come to own the Devil's Wind. She turned on the radio. Static poured from the speakers, so she shut it off and mulled over their brief conversation. Everyone who'd ever mattered in his life had left him. Maybe he'd turned his back on her not only because he couldn't take care of a newborn, but also because he didn't know any other way.

When Ruby had decided to answer Hank's summons, she'd had no intention of establishing a relationship with him that went beyond a onetime visit. But learning about his unfortunate childhood changed everything. Now, when she left for Kansas, she'd be just one more person who'd deserted him.

How the hell was that fair? Her biological father was supposed to be the bad guy, not her. She should have thrown the lawyer's letter away. It would have been easier to live with her conscience if she'd never met Hank McArthur.

“We're here.” Ruby applied the brakes at the four-way stop on the outskirts of town.

Hank popped into an upright position—the old fart had only been pretending to snooze. She pulled into a parking spot in front of the jail, then ushered him inside.

There wasn't much to the law office. A desk in the middle of the room with Deputy Randall's nameplate front and center. The placard on the door a few feet away identified the office as Sheriff Michael Carlyle's. And a man wearing nothing but boxers and cowboy boots snored off his drunk on the cot in the small holding cell.

“Hello?”

“Be right there,” a muffled voice answered from behind the closed door.

She nudged Hank toward the chair across from the deputy's desk, then stood by his side.

The door opened and the sheriff stepped into view. If the lawman grew tired of chasing bad guys, he could pursue a career in the movies. A strong jaw, a jet-black mustache, and ebony hair threaded with silver would land him a role on a cop show. “'Morning, Hank.” His smooth baritone voice added to his sex appeal. “You must be Ruby Baxter.” He showed off his movie-star teeth. “I hear you're visiting Hank.”

“News travels fast in a one-horse town,” she said.

The sheriff sat in the deputy's chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “What brings you two by this morning?”

“Nothing,” Hank muttered.

“The hell it isn't.” Ruby ignored his grunt. “Someone shot up a livestock tank at the Devil's Wind.”

The sheriff sat forward. “I'm listening.”

Ruby recited an abbreviated version of her and Joe's tour of the ranch.

“Probably drunken cowboys firing off a few rounds for kicks,” the sheriff said.

“A few rounds? The tank was riddled with holes, and most of the water leaked out.”

“Were any cattle injured?”

“No. All the cows were accounted for except the ones Hank already reported missing.” The sheriff didn't blink an eye at the mention of the ongoing investigation. “Your deputy stopped by the ranch yesterday and said he still has no idea who stole Hank's cows.”

“These cases take time.”

Ruby nodded to the holding cell. “If you're too busy rounding up drunks, maybe the police in Guymon would be willing to help with the investigation.”

The lawman's mouth quivered—he found her amusing. “I'll advise the local ranchers to tell their wranglers to steer clear of the Devil's Wind.”

“Will one of those phone calls be to Roy Sandoval? Maybe the person who took down the section of fence between the Bar T and the Devil's Wind is the same person who used the stock tank for target practice.”

“I assure you, Ms. Baxter, that Deputy Randall is chasing every lead.”

More like chasing his tail in circles
. She placed the bullet casing found next to the tank on the desk. “You should ask your cousin if he owns a weapon matching this.” The sheriff narrowed his eyes, but Ruby ignored the warning. “You and Roy Sandoval are related, right?”

Hank made a beeline for the door, but Ruby stayed put. “Were you aware that after Hank got his pacemaker, your cousin asked if he was ready to sell out?”

“Careful, Ms. Baxter. I don't care for what you're implying.”

“And I don't like how you're investigating Hank's missing cows.”

The jail door opened and closed, leaving Ruby to face off with the sheriff alone. Someone had to protect Hank from being bullied. She'd do it for Mia, because her daughter was worried about her grandfather, and for herself, because . . . well, just because.

“I'll discuss the case with—”

“Deputy Randall mentioned that someone else is interested in buying the ranch. Any idea why the Devil's Wind is so popular?”

The lines bracketing the sheriff's mouth deepened. “'Fraid not. Now, if that's all you came to discuss . . . I have work to do.”

“Hank will need a copy of your report so he can settle with his insurance company.” The report would be useless, since Hank had canceled his policy, but at least he'd know the complaint had been officially recorded.

“I'll see that Hank gets one.” The sheriff walked across the room and held the door open for her. “When do you plan to leave town?”

“A week, give or take a few days.” She held his gaze. “By then you'll have tracked down the owner of that bullet casing.”

“Good day, Ms. Baxter.”

Ruby joined Hank in the truck, and neither said a word as she drove to the mercantile. “You coming in?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“You'll suffer heatstroke if you sit out here.” She walked around the hood and opened his door, then waited for him to unsnap his seat belt. He took his dang-tootin' time getting out. No wonder he and Mia got along—they were both ornery. She clutched a fistful of his shirtsleeve and dragged him inside the store.

She and Mia had visited the mercantile two days ago, yet none of the clothing racks or products on the shelves appeared disturbed. How did Big Dan make a profit if he wasn't moving inventory? Hank helped himself to a seat on the bench by the window.

“I'll be quick.” She weaved her way across the floor to the shelf with personal hygiene products, then perused her two choices of sunscreen. “This is a rip-off.”

“What is?”

She glanced down at the top of Big Dan's shiny bald head. “The cost of this sunscreen. Twelve dollars. Really?”

“Hello, Ruby.”

Ignoring the greeting, she asked, “Do you have any body lotion?”

“Bottom shelf. How's your visit going with Hank?”

“Fine.” Everyone seemed interested in her business with the cranky rancher.

“Are you planning to stay awhile?”

“I don't think so.”

“A lot could happen to change your mind.”

The man talked in riddles. “Change my mind about what?”

“Leaving.”

Ruby examined the lotion bottle. “This is a rip-off, too.” She called out to Hank, “Do you need anything?” When he didn't answer, she led the way to the checkout. “I didn't notice any damage in town from yesterday's storm.”

Big Dan didn't ask if the Devil's Wind had survived the bad weather. Maybe all old men were grumpy on Saturdays. “What's the problem between you and Hank?”

“Don't know what you're talking about.” He slipped the sunscreen and lotion into a plastic bag, then took Ruby's money.

Maybe she'd imagined the tension between the men. “In case I don't see you again, it was nice meeting you.”

He ignored her outstretched hand and set her change on the counter. “You'll be back.”

Not likely. If Hank missed her and Mia, he could visit them in Kansas.

“W
hat's your beef with Big Dan?” Ruby asked Hank after they left the mercantile.

“Don't know what you're talking about.” That's exactly what Big Dan had said. There was definitely
something
going on between the men.

“Crap.” Ruby stared at the flat tire on the truck. “Do you have a spare?”

“Nope.”

“C'mon.” She guided him across the street. “While I talk to a mechanic, you can wait in the air-conditioned diner.” She stopped outside the Airstream. “How do you want to pay for this?” One of them had to cough up the money to fix the tire, and Hank had more cash in his bank account than she did.

He removed a credit card from his wallet and handed it to her.

When he didn't go into the diner, she asked, “What's wrong?”

“Waiting for you to leave so I can have a smoke.” He tapped the pack of cigarettes against the back of his hand.

If she continued to argue with him, he'd stand in the hot sun and smoke all twenty cancer sticks and then pass out from heat exhaustion. And her daughter would accuse her of bullying him. Mia blamed Ruby for a lot these days, but it hadn't always been that way between them.

“I quit cold turkey,” she said.

“That right?” He pulled a BIC lighter from his pants pocket and lit the lung dart, then took a deep drag.

The sun glinted off the end of the lighter, reminding Ruby of the past and better times with Mia . . . Saturday mornings clipping coupons and then laughing when they couldn't figure out what to cook with all the mismatched bargains they'd hauled home from the store.

“Where's my chocolate cake?” Mia dragged a chair across the floor to the kitchen counter and climbed on, then began unpacking the groceries, lining the items up in front of her. A package of BIC disposable lighters, Bisquick mix, spaghetti sauce, green grapes, Wisk detergent, a bag of marshmallows, cheese puffs. She moved the box of chocolate cake closer to her. Her eighth birthday was two weeks away, but she'd been adamant that they buy the cake mix today because the coupon expired before her birthday. Ruby had allowed her to put it in the cart even though she'd already ordered Mia's cake—her first-ever bakery cake.

“What are we gonna make for supper?” Mia's blue eyes stared at Ruby.

“I was about to ask you the same question.” The checkout lady had congratulated them on saving more than twenty-five dollars, but there was nothing in the four bags they could use to put a meal together.

“We can have pickles and some crackers.” Mia lifted the can at the end of the counter. “And sloppy joes.” They hadn't bought any hamburger. She used both hands to move the liter of soda in front of her. “And this to drink.”

If one of them came down with the flu, they'd have Sprite and soda crackers on hand.

Mia peeked up at her mother and giggled.

“We saved all that money and we have nothing to eat.” Ruby laughed.

“I know what we can do,” Mia said.

Ruby read her mind. “Put your coat back on.”

“Yeah, McDonald's!” Mia jumped off the chair, hugged Ruby's legs, then raced from the room.

“You going to stand there grinning until I finish my cigarette?” Hank tapped the toe of his shoe against Ruby's sandal, and she blinked until he came into focus.

“At least take a break between cigarettes and cool off inside,” she said, then left him to enjoy his vice. When she entered the gas station, she called out, “Anyone here?”

A grease monkey in gray coveralls pushed his creeper out from beneath a beige sedan and crawled to his feet. He was several inches taller than Ruby but stick thin. His round face was covered with acne. He couldn't have been older then twenty-one.

“Name's Kurt.” He wiped his hands on an oil rag. “What can I do for you?”

“Hank McArthur's truck has a flat tire.” She pointed down the block. “It's parked in front of the mercantile.”

Kurt's gaze flicked between Ruby's face and her breasts. Years ago she'd given up objecting to men staring at her big boobs, because her complaints had only gained her more leers.

“Does he have a spare?”

“No, but would you mind taking a look to see if you can repair the leak?”

When they arrived at the truck, Ruby stood aside while Kurt examined the tire. “Did I drive over a nail?”

“The tire's been slashed.”

“You mean like with a knife?”

“Yep.”

First the missing cows, then the water tank, and now this. Someone had it in for Hank.

“It'll take me a week to get a new tire,” Kurt said.

“You wouldn't happen to have a spare Hank could use until then?”

“I'll check.”

After Kurt walked off, Ruby went back to the jail. If the sheriff was startled to see her again, he didn't show it. “Would you mind adding a slashed tire to the list of vandalism against the Devil's Wind?”

His eyes widened.

“The tire was fine when Hank and I arrived in town, but someone took a knife to it while we were in the mercantile.”

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“The mechanic at the garage is putting on a spare.”

“I'll find out if there were any witnesses.”

“I wasn't joking when I suggested you contact the authorities in Guymon,” she said. “This might be too much for your small department to handle.” She left, slamming the door behind her. It was high time a woman stirred up a little dust in the Oklahoma outpost.

Kurt hadn't returned from the garage, so Ruby went into the air-conditioned mercantile to wait.

“Something wrong?” Big Dan stepped into the open.

“The tire on Hank's pickup was slashed. Did you see anyone loitering outside when we were in here earlier?”

“How would I see anything? I was helping you.”

“You said you know everything that goes on in this town.”

Big Dan peered at the wall of animal heads as if communicating with the stuffed beasts.

“Have you heard about the trouble out at the Devil's Wind?” she asked.

He wobbled over to a clothing rack of perfectly hung shirts and moved a hanger sideways a half inch. “I predicted you'd shake things up in town, but I didn't expect you to be so fearless.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” The blasted men in Unforgiven were so frustrating. The sooner she left, the better. “Are you always this pleasant to newcomers, or do I get special treatment because you've got a grudge against Hank?”

He bent over and picked up a pebble off the floor. “Kurt's back.”

Ruby glanced out the window. Sure enough, the mechanic stood next to the pickup. Forgetting about the miniature thorn in her side, Ruby went out to keep Kurt company.

“The spare's in decent shape.” He jacked up the front end of Hank's truck. “You shouldn't have any problem with it.”

A pickup with the Bar T logo on the passenger-side door passed by and parked in front of the jail. A tall, distinguished-looking man with gray hair entered the building. Maybe her threat had spurred the sheriff to have a chat with his cousin.

“Hank can pay for the new tire when he picks it up,” Kurt said.

“What do we owe you for the spare?”

“It's on me.” He packed up his tools. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”

“What?”

“Are you really Hank McArthur's daughter?”

“Yes.”

He checked over his shoulder as if he was worried they were being watched. “Everyone knows the Devil's Wind is worth a fortune.”

“Really?”

“They say there's millions in natural gas under Fury's Ridge.”

Interesting how Joe had left out that fact when he'd talked about the Indian burial ground. “And you think I'm trying to swindle Hank.”

“Seems like a coincidence . . . you showing up right after he had a pacemaker put in.”

“Rest assured, I'm legitimate,” she said. “If you need proof, talk to Hank's lawyer. He's the one who tracked me down.”

Kurt's chin poked out. “You sticking around?”

“All you men in town can relax. I won't be calling Unforgiven home.” She cut across the street to the diner. Hank was the only customer in the place.

“Hey, Ruby.” Elvis lifted his hand in greeting. “We've been swapping cowboy and Indian stories.”

She handed Hank his credit card. “Kurt had to order a new tire for your truck. In the meantime, he loaned you a spare.”

“What happened?” Jimmy asked.

“I ran over a nail,” Ruby lied. She didn't want to upset Hank after his pacemaker had shorted out yesterday.

“The offer still stands on the trailer out back.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.” She ignored Hank's puzzled expression and said, “Let's hit the road.” He placed his cowboy hat on his head, and Ruby followed him outside. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Quit nagging me.”

She managed to refrain from conversation for the first five miles, but then the silence got to her. “Tell me what's going on between you and Big Dan.”

Hank's lips flattened.

“You don't like him and he doesn't like you. Why?”

He squeezed his knee until the bulging veins that crisscrossed the back of his hand turned dark blue. “Big Dan and Cora were friends.”

Jealousy would definitely explain the testy looks between the men.

“Cora was lonely living on the ranch. She'd go into town when I was busy with chores.”

When Hank didn't elaborate, she wondered how good of friends her mother and Big Dan had been. “That must mean women were once welcome in Unforgiven.”

“Ladies used to come to town all the time until Guymon got the big Walmart and a fancy beauty spa.”

It was reassuring to know the female population hadn't been chased out of town. Hank closed his eyes, and his shoulders hunched forward. He sure needed a lot of rest. It was a good thing Joe helped around the ranch; otherwise Ruby would have to battle her conscience when she said goodbye.

“Hank?”

“Hmm?”

“You told Deputy Randall that you were leaving me the ranch. Were you telling the truth, or did you just say that to piss him off?”

“I meant it.”

“What if I don't want the place?”

His eyelids rolled back, and he looked at her. “Why wouldn't you want the land?”

Ruby might have been born there, but . . . “The Devil's Wind isn't home.” She didn't have any ties to the property. And if she accepted her inheritance, Hank would assume she'd forgiven him for not keeping her after Cora had run off.

“I'll be dead,” he said. “You can do what you want with the ranch; just find the horses a good home.”

If Mia had her way, Hank's beloved four-legged misfits would end up in Ruby's backyard.

Once they arrived at the house, she offered to make lunch, then went inside to check on Mia, but her daughter was nowhere to be found. Ruby walked out to the barn. “Mia, are you in here?”

“She's with the horses in the corral.” Joe stepped from a stall, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a blue bandanna.

“No, she's not.” Heart pounding, Ruby left the barn. “Mia! Mia!” She stopped in front of the storm shelter and opened the door. “Mia? Are you down there?”

Hank came outside. “What in tarnation's got you all fired up?”

“I can't find Mia.”

Joe jogged across the yard. “Pretty Boy's missing.”

“Oh God.” Ruby's voice shook. “I bet Mia took the horse for a ride.” Channeling her fear into anger, she pointed a finger at Joe. “How could you not know she took off on one of the horses? Mia doesn't even know how to ride. She might have been thrown.”

Miles of hostile emptiness stretched between the house and the horizon. This was Ruby's fault—not Joe's. She should have made Mia go with her and Hank into town.

“I'll find her.” Joe got into his truck and backed it up to the horse trailer behind the barn, then hopped out and secured the hitch before speeding off.

“Mia will be okay.” Hank's fingers curled around Ruby's arm, pressing into her flesh until they hit bone.

A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she covered Hank's hand with her own. She had to believe Mia would be fine. Nothing mattered but getting her daughter home safely.