Cheryl St.John - Sequins and Spurs

“I’m a little out of practice in the kitchen.” Ruby located a pitcher and a few glasses. “These might need washing. Everything’s still dusty. I’m working on it.”

She was a strong-looking young woman, competent, not frail or delicate as her sister had been. Her strength had nothing to do with size, though she was taller. Her appeal was in her complete lack of guile or airs.

Claire was obviously reluctant to release her grandmother’s hand, but Georgia gave her an assuring smile and gestured for her to take a seat.

“Where’s the other chair?” Claire asked, calling attention to the missing piece of furniture. Georgia glanced at the spot where it had been.

“It got broken,” Ruby replied simply. “How old are you, Claire?”

The child looked first to Georgia, her hesitation obvious. Georgia gave her an encouraging nod.

“Six,” Claire answered.

“And Joel?” Ruby asked. “How old is he?”

“He’s three,” Georgia replied.

“Still just a baby.” Sadness tinged the young woman’s voice.

Georgia had visited Laura and Pearl often, and they had been to her home many times. She knew they hadn’t been able to reach Ruby, so had to assume the new arrival had only just learned of the deaths of her mother and sister. Georgia didn’t understand her motives, but was sure coming back to this news had been shocking.

“The children have been staying with Nash’s father and me, so Nash can run the ranch. I bring them to see him as often as I can, and he comes to dinner on Sundays.” She paused, realizing she had no idea what this woman’s plans were. “You’re welcome to join us this Sunday.”

Ruby appeared surprised at the invitation. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

Georgia was curious to know what had brought Ruby here now, after all these years, and whether or not she planned to stay, but she didn’t want to bring up a sensitive subject in front of Claire. She touched the little girl’s shoulder. “Why don’t you run up and get the doll you wanted from your room?”

“Oh, yes’m.” Claire darted from the kitchen.

Ruby had heated water and was washing the pitcher and glasses. Georgia took a clean towel from a cupboard shelf to dry them.

Ruby gave her a cautious, but straightforward look. “You must be surprised to see me.”

Georgia nodded. “More than a little.”

“Your son doesn’t want me here.”

Georgia could only imagine how Ruby’s sudden arrival had surprised Nash. They had all wondered about her, but he had been here with Pearl and Laura all along, so undoubtedly he had more questions than anyone else. “The last few years have been difficult for him. He has strong feelings about all of it. About you.”

Ruby paused with her wrists over the enamel basin, suds dripping from her fingers. “All I wanted to do was make things up to my mama and Pearl. I came back to ask Mama’s forgiveness and to start over.” She shook her head, sending curls swaying. “Nash hates me for making things harder for them—especially harder for Pearl.”

Georgia was aware of her son’s resentment. “Hate is a strong word.”

“But it’s the right word in this case.”

Georgia had no idea what was going on inside Ruby’s head, but she knew her son well enough to know he’d directed a lot of anger toward the woman who’d unknowingly left all the care of her mother to his wife, and later to the kindness of his neighbors. “He’s going to need some time.”

The back door opened and closed, and Nash set the bag of lemons on the table. “We’re gonna wash up at the well.”

Joel rode his father’s hip as Nash headed out again.

Ruby took the lemons from the bag and found a cutting board. “He told me you called on my mother. Were you friends?”

Georgia nodded, not wanting to reveal more than Ruby was ready to hear. “We became good friends, yes.”

“Do you hate me, too?”

“Of course not. I barely know you.”

“You know what I did.”

Her frankness was surprising. “You headed out on your own and you sent money home.”

Ruby met her gaze with penetrating blue eyes, eyes like her mother’s, but more full of life and expression. “Mama told you that?”

Georgia nodded. “We spent a lot of time together. She told me many things.”

Claire returned clutching a rag doll. “The sheets aren’t on my bed.”

Ruby appeared flustered and brushed hair from her face with the back of a wet hand. “I didn’t realize that was your room when I chose a bed last night. I used to sleep there when I was your age.”

“You did?”

Ruby dried her hands on a length of toweling. “I washed all the sheets today, though, so I’ll leave them clean for the next time you sleep in your bed again.” She turned to Georgia. “I’d like to talk more when there’s time.”

Georgia gave her a long, considering look. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Ruby wasn’t sure what to make of the older woman’s lack of animosity, compared to her son’s, but she was thankful. No doubt Ruby would run up against a lot of people with the same negative opinion of her, so she might be smart to develop an even thicker skin.

It took a few minutes, but Ruby found a glass juicer and washed that as well. She then set to squeezing the lemon halves. “I have no idea how much sugar to add. I don’t even know if there is any.”

Georgia carried a chipped cup to the pantry and returned with it full. “This should do it.”

Nash came back and set a ragged square of ice near the sink. A few pieces of straw stuck to the surface. Georgia rinsed it off, found a mallet and chipped ice for their drinks.

When the lemonade was ready, they carried their glasses to the front porch. Ruby waited until the family was seated in what she assumed were their usual places before taking a seat on a nearby bench. An awkward silence followed.

“When did you get here?” Georgia finally asked.

“About dusk last night.”

“She slept in my bed,” Claire said to her father.

Nash didn’t look at any of them.

“How did you arrive?” Georgia asked.

“I rode in.” Ruby gestured to the corral, one end of which was visible from where they sat. She’d let her mare out that morning. “The Duchess is in the corral.”

“What about your belongings?”

“I had a couple of trunks shipped to the station in Crosby. I don’t own much that’s of use on a farm, though.”

“Ranch,” Nash corrected.

“I saw the mares ready to foal,” she replied. When he didn’t respond, she turned to Georgia. “Are your family all ranchers?”

“My husband owns a grain mill.” She glanced at her son, and Ruby picked up on something between them that made her wonder about his own family relationships. “Our daughter’s husband works there, too. Nash is the only horseman.”

When Joel got up and headed for the porch stairs, Nash followed. “Want to go see the horses, buddy?” He turned to his daughter. “Come to the barn with us, sweet pea.”

Claire glanced at her grandmother.

“Go with your father,” she encouraged. “We’ll be leaving shortly, and he wants to spend time with you.”

Claire set her doll on the porch swing beside Georgia and joined her little brother.

“She reminds me of Pearl,” Ruby said.

Georgia picked up the rag doll and absently smoothed its yarn hair. “She’s definitely the spitting image of her mother.”

“Not only her looks,” Ruby said softly, “but the way she’s so hesitant about everything.”

Georgia studied her. “Pearl was a good wife and mother. We all loved her.”

Ruby still heard no accusation in her tone or the appreciative statement. She glanced at the horse in the shade. “She was a good daughter, too, I guess.”