The Loves of Ruby Dee (25 page)

“Well, how are you, Hardy?” Cora Jean looked at him until he replied. The woman was not put off by Hardy one bit.

“I’m old but I’m still breathin’,” he said tersely.

“Well, goodness, we’re all old. Half the time I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. I pass by and think: who is that old woman?” She laughed that lovely laugh. “You’re lookin’ well, Hardy, and here with your sons and all.”

With a great sigh, Cora Jean ran her gaze over the men again. “Yes, I’m an old friend of these fellas, honey,” she said to Ruby Dee. “Hardy and I are among the dwindling number of folks whose parents came out here to make farms and ranches out of land stolen from the Indians and Mother Nature. I’ve known Hardy all of my life, and these two since they were born. I taught each one in school.”

She gazed at Will. “Why, I was there the night Will was born at Dr. Anderson’s clinic.” Then she explained to Ruby Dee, “I was helping out my sister-in-law, who was Dr. Anderson’s nurse. We did such things in those days; weren’t so many laws like today.

“I got to hand Will to his daddy,” she said, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder, “and little Will promptly did his business right in Hardy’s hand. Hardy wouldn’t let go of him, though. He was so proud. He said he’d cleaned up after cattle, he guessed he could clean up after his own son."

Will’s eyes went to his daddy, who was staring at his plate.

Miz Vinson went on without missing a beat. Inclining her head toward Lonnie, she said, “When Lonnie was born, I was right down the hall, where I’d delivered Camellia. Me and Johnny, God rest his soul, only had girls—five of them. It’s hard to believe now, but Lonnie was the puniest, ugliest baby. He could hardly suck, and formula made him sick. I remember three nights after Camellia and Lonnie were born, I got up and there was Hardy rocking Lonnie right in the hall and feeding him goat’s milk from a bottle. Hardy kept two goats tied up back of the hospital until Lonnie could be taken home.”

“You always could talk a blue streak, Cora Jean,” Hardy said.

Lonnie was staring at the table, a curious expression on his face.

“And you used to tell me that often enough. One time he gave me a whole dime to go talk somewhere else.” Her eyes danced. “He was sparkin’ my sister.” There came that musical laugh. “Oh, baw, I didn’t mean to go on so. Y’all have just brought back the memories. Remember that time you threatened to beat up Mr. Irwin?” She tapped Hardy’s shoulder. “I won’t forget that, because I had to work at liking that man, and I never did it very well. He even made the teachers call him Mr. Irwin. Oh, gosh, I’m started again. Well, that’s enough.”

She squeezed Hardy’s shoulder in a familiar way. “It is good to see you, Hardy. Y’all enjoy your supper. They have the best guacamole here.”

Then she leaned over behind Hardy, toward Ruby Dee, and spoke in a loud whisper. “That time Will pooped in his hand, Hardy said he could never again eat guacamole and not think of it. No...I really am going now. Here comes the girl with your food, and Eugene needs to get home to watch ‘Murder, She Wrote.’ I got a little fruit stand west of Harney. Y’all come see me sometime. I know you won’t, Hardy, but maybe the rest of you will.” She left them with a smile and a wave.

“She’s quite something,” Ruby Dee said, feeling as if they had been visited by a whirling dervish.

Then the waitress was setting their food in front of them. Everyone except Hardy agreed their meals were delicious. When Ruby Dee asked Hardy what he thought of his food, he said it was okay. Then he asked if anyone wanted his helping of guacamole, which made them all chuckle.

After a few minutes, Ruby Dee asked, “Who was Mr. Irwin and why were you gonna beat him up?”

Hardy glanced at her, then looked at his plate and forked his food. Will said he didn’t remember, and then Lonnie said that Mr. Irwin had been the school principal in Harney for a couple of years.

“He gave me licks one time.” He looked at Hardy. “Fifth grade. I could hardly sit down that night. Dad, you went up to school and got into it with him.”

Hardy cleared his throat. “Huh...I guess I did.” He nodded slightly, and acted as if that were all he was going to say, but then he added thoughtfully, “He was a mealy sort of fella, from up north, too. I didn’t threaten him, though. I just told him that if he felt the need to use that board again on my son, I was gonna come up there and stuff it down his throat.”

Will cracked a smile. “Dad gave us whippins, but he didn’t want somebody outside the family doin’ it.” Then Lonnie was chuckling, and even Hardy smiled, almost.

Reaching for his beer, Hardy said, “How were you gonna do your chores, if that fool kept takin’ a board to ya? ‘Sides, the whole thing was over a gal sayin’ you said somethin’ dirty to her. There’s two things I know about this boy: he wouldn’t ever say somethin’ ugly to a gal, even then, and if he says he didn’t do somethin’, he didn’t do it.”

Well. Hardy saying that mouthful surprised them all.

He said hardly another word during the rest of the meal, but still Ruby Dee felt that this evening the men had made a connection they had not felt for some time. A connection that had been beat down and covered over by years of hurt and resentment.

When they came out of the restaurant, Will put his hand on Ruby Dee’s back. Oh, how she felt that casual touch. He guided her to the front seat of the pickup, then helped his dad get into the back seat. Lonnie stopped at her window to say good-bye, explaining that he would be home a little later, but it was Ruby Dee he looked at the whole time. When he walked away, Ruby Dee looked over to see Will’s intense gaze upon her.

It was dark when they got home. Will suggested sitting on the front porch, and Ruby Dee got them ice tea. She was always thirsty after Mexican food. Hardy sat in his wheelchair, Ruby Dee got the only porch chair, an old rocker, and Will sat at the edge of the porch floor, his back against the post, with Sally’s head lying on his thigh.

It was nice and quiet, and for once the sense of anger wasn’t vibrating between Will and Hardy.

Ruby Dee suspected that Will was recalling some of the memories from supper. Cora Jean had been like an angel coming to them, she thought.

“What happened to the swing?” she asked Hardy, looking up at the ceiling, where she could just make out the hooks in the dim light coming through the window.

He shrugged. “Darned if I remember. I don’t rightly recall there ever bein’ one. That Cora Jean would probably know. She has one of those photo memories, I guess.”

Not a half hour later, Lonnie was home, and he came to sit out on the porch, too.

For the next hour, while the moon rose in the sky, they all sat there. Every once in a while someone would say something, about the weather, about fireflies, about the coyotes—which each of the men called ki-oats, in the old way—and how they were getting awfully thick again.

Will explained to Ruby Dee that when the coyotes started attacking the calves, the men had to get together to hunt them or call in hunters. As a warning to other coyotes, they would hang a coyote carcass on the fence.

“That works?” Ruby Dee asked, surprised.

Will nodded. “Coyotes are smart.” He stroked Sally’s head. “They know enough not to challenge men or dogs straight on, but they’ll tease and lure a dog out from his own yard and then kill him. Not hounds, though. Coyotes won’t mess with hounds, at least that’s what I’ve always heard.”

And Hardy said, “No, coyotes won’t mess with hounds. Coyotes don’t like a hound’s foghorn bark. Don’t need to worry about this little collie, either. Coyotes only get
the stupid dogs.” Then he added, “I always did like coyotes, though.”

Ruby Dee, rocking in the creaky chair, talked about Miss Edna’s porch swing and how sometimes when a person swung in it, the hooks would start making this god-awful squeal, and the best thing she’d ever used to quiet it was Crisco shortening. “I guess Crisco wouldn’t work on this chair, though.” She didn’t realize she’d said something funny until Will and Lonnie laughed.

Lonnie brought up the subject of Cora Jean’s daughter, Camellia, and how he had heard she was down in Fort Worth, making a fortune shining shoes. She owned several chairs and had people working under her, too, down at Billy Bob’s and the hotels and the rodeos and horse shows.

“Camellia bought Cora Jean that champagne Cadillac she drives, from shining shoes.” After a minute he added, “All Cora Jean’s girls were named after flowers.”

They sat on the porch until nearly eleven, when Ruby Dee rose to go upstairs. She felt that if she wasn’t the first to get up, they might all just sit there until morning.

Lying in her bed with the sheet spread over her, she listened to the men as they each settled in for the night. She heard Lonnie’s boot steps come along the landing first. He had a jaunty way of walking, even when he was being quiet. Then she heard Will’s footsteps, in his sock feet, but heavy. Slow.

She heard them stop outside her door! She closed her eyes and hardly breathed and tried not to think about how much she wished he would come in and make love to her.

His steps went on to the bathroom, and the door closed. After several quiet seconds, Ruby Dee rose and turned on the bedside lamp. She reached for her dream paper, and looked at it for a long time. Re-folding it, she tucked it beneath the lamp, turned out the lamp and settled back down.

She knew she could not put Will’s face to the picture on the dream paper. She just kept thinking:

HELL TO PAY.

She clutched one of her feather pillows, because she ached so badly to have Will make love to her.

* * * *

Fully clothed except for his boots, Will lay stretched out in his bed, watching cigarette smoke twirl upward in the moonlight and thinking about Ruby Dee, only five strides down the hall. Not a sound came from her room.

He thought, too, about what had been said at supper. He’d heard the story about Hardy holding him as a newborn, of course, but not in at least twenty years...not in twenty-five years since his mother had left. His dad had let his mother take away a lot more than just herself and their marriage. For a minute he felt angry, but then he felt sad, and then he felt a sort of wonder, because it seemed like now that Ruby Dee had come, his dad was returning to what he’d once been.

He sat up and raked his hand through his hair, the sense of wonder turning to a cold, knowing chill. He wanted Ruby Dee for his own. But how could he take her from the old man now?

He slept little and fitfully, was up early the next morning and went out to take a walk. Right after breakfast, he told Lonnie to take Wildcat and start baling the alfalfa they had cut the week before. “Anything that comes up, Lon, you handle it. Like as not, I won’t be back until afternoon. Don’t set a lunch for me, Ruby Dee.” Not wanting to give Lonnie time to go asking questions, he was already heading toward the door.

His gaze touched Ruby Dee’s, though, for just a second. Her quick look was enough to make him feel excited.

Will met Ambrose Bell over at the old James place, and together they walked for two hours around the surrounding land, until they struck an agreement. Will would buy the house and surrounding quarter section, because he just had to own some land of his own, and would lease six sections of range. He would also work for Ambrose part-time in exchange for a small salary and the use of Ambrose’s equipment.

“I guess we have a deal, Ambrose.” Will stuck out his hand, and the older man took it in a firm grip.

Hefting up his pants, which sagged beneath his paunch, Ambrose said, “It’s more than I started with at your age.”

“Things are a lot different now,” Will said.

Ambrose nodded. “You got that right. A man can’t hardly start a place these days. But I guess it was always a chancy thing.” He cast Will a curious look, but he didn’t ask why Will was leaving the Starr. “That’s why I sent J.R. to chiropractor school. I never wanted him to be a rancher...and I have a bad back,” he added with a grin.

Ambrose was making plans for selling out his operation in another couple of years, getting ready for retirement. His only son was a chiropractor down in Clinton. Will thought a man was lucky when he felt he could do any number of things. For himself, he only wanted to ranch. He was like so many men these days, trying to make a bygone way of life fit into a computer-driven century.

Ambrose said, “Might be easier to just move a mobile home up here and forget about the house. The only good thing about it is that it’s brick. That’s why it’s stood here so long. Me and my Rosie used to talk about fixing it up ourselves, but we just never got to it. Seemed like one thing after another came first. And once we moved in with Rosie’s mama, I couldn’t get her loose.”

Will nodded in understanding.

Together, they headed for their vehicles. Will said, “I’ll go on to the bank and get this deal goin’, Ambrose. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks, three at the most, for the appraisal and legalities.”

Ambrose nodded. “I’m glad it’s you gettin’ this place. And like I said, I have three more sections you’re welcome to lease, if you come to need it.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping I will eventually.” Will stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Ah, Ambrose, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep our deal to yourself. I’d rather not have a lot of people know just yet.”

Ambrose said, without raising an eyebrow, “I’ll sure do that, Will. People around here are nosy as hell, aren’t they? Gets on my nerves. I don’t like a lot of people knowin’ my business all the time. Good luck to you, son,” the older man added, waving as he opened the door to his black Lincoln, a big boat from twenty years ago that was still going strong.

Will stayed there, looking out over the rolling hills for a few minutes after Ambrose left. A quarter section wasn’t much, not in this part of the country, but he had bought it outright just because he had to have land to call his own. It had a good tank on it, too, that held water at least half the summer.

He walked on to the house, up the two steps and in through the back porch door that hung crooked, through the kitchen and on through the other rooms, with their peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster. The house was forty-five years old, and had sat empty for the past eighteen years.