Sequins and Spurs

Ruby set down the tub and wiped her hands on her skirt. Then she walked to the stairs and descended, heading toward him.

He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to see her. She stirred up too many feelings he didn’t want to deal with.

She approached to within several feet and stopped. “How’s your head?”

“I’ll live.”

“I said I was sorry.”

He said nothing.

“I was wondering about something. I noticed a couple of men coming and going from the stable and the barn.”

He narrowed his gaze warily. “Yeah?”

“Could they help me for a short time tomorrow, so I can move out the furniture to clean the rugs and wax the floors?”

“My hands aren’t maids,” he replied. What was she trying to prove by cleaning the house? It was a little late to show up and pitch in now.

She set her hands on her hips and fixed him with an exasperated glare. “I didn’t ask for a maid. I asked for strong backs.” She glanced toward the barn. “Never mind. I’ll handle it on my own.”

She turned and headed toward the house. The sun caught in her crazy hair and set the golden curls ablaze. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Everything about her made him ache. His heart, his head...

A sound caught his attention.

* * *

Ruby shaded her eyes and discovered a black buggy drawn by a single horse moving toward them. Behind it a trail of dust rose into the air. “Company?” she asked.

Nash had turned to view the approaching conveyance as well. He slid his hat back on his head, revealing a strong profile and lean jaw. Ruby glanced from him to the buggy. His expression didn’t give away his thoughts.

“Do you know who it is?”

“I know.” He moved toward the lane.

She followed at a distance, straining to see the driver, who turned out to be a woman in a blue dress and a wide-brimmed hat with matching silk flowers and ribbons. She guided the horse to a stop.

Nash took the reins, pulled the brake and wrapped the leather around the handle. The woman gracefully accepted his help and he lowered her to the ground.

She wasn’t alone. Two children crowded forward to be lifted down, but instead of placing the little girl on her feet, Nash enveloped her in a hug. With a gleeful cry, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her stockinged legs around his waist.

The smaller child, a boy in a pressed shirt and suspenders, jumped up and down impatiently.

Finally, Nash placed the girl on the ground and the boy leaped into his arms. “Papa! Papa!”

His cheerful cries penetrated Ruby’s confusion.

Papa?

The woman turned toward Ruby, her expression curious. She was lovely, with dark winged brows, high cheekbones and glowing olive skin. She took in Ruby’s hair and clothing before settling her attention on her face. Recognition dawned in her warm brown eyes and she asked, “Are you going to introduce us, Nash?”

“This is Laura’s other daughter.” He glanced at Ruby. “My mother, Georgia Sommerton.”

“I thought so.” Georgia extended a slender hand. “I remember you, Ruby.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course. You were an adventurous child, as I recall.”

“I suppose so,” she said, still distracted by the boy’s exclamation. Now the woman’s resemblance to Nash jumped out at her: her black hair and dark eyes...her defined cheekbones. Ruby studied the sturdily built little boy in Nash’s arms. He had the same dark hair and winged brows.

The girl, however, was fair and slender, with radiant skin and shining pale ringlets that hung to her shoulders. She lifted her curious gaze, and Ruby’s heart stopped.

Studying the child was like looking at her sister years ago. Her eyes were the same bright cornflower blue, her expression solemn and wary. With a small hand, she reached to grasp her grandmother’s fingers. Apparently the doll and the clothing in the drawers in Ruby’s old room belonged to this child.

Captivated, Ruby stared. Unexpected tender feelings brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back and retained her composure. The oppressive ache that had been a weight on her heart since the day before eased, and an unfamiliar joy rose inside her.

She tore her gaze back to the smaller child, keen to recognize a similarity to her sister. Nash’s hair...his eyes....

“Who is she, Papa?” he asked.

There it was. The shape of his lips...the tilt of his nose. Elation lifted Ruby’s spirits. She shot her attention to the surly man holding the little boy and pierced him with a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Chapter Four (#ulink_f6df971f-a66a-5af4-a63b-9599a1078ad9)

Nash scowled at her over his son’s shoulder. “Tell you what?”

“That my sister had children?”

“Didn’t know that you’d care.”

Was this what Ruby deserved? She took a deep breath and composed herself. Why would he think any differently? She hadn’t shown concern until now. His mother hadn’t made any cutting remarks yet, but there was still time. Ruby cast her a cautiously apologetic look, but her anger at Nash’s callousness simmered.

“Ruby, this is Claire,” Georgia said, and raised the hand that the girl held. “That’s Joel. Children, this is your aunt Ruby. She’s your mother’s sister.”

Ruby couldn’t have been more surprised at the matter-of-fact introduction.

Nash turned and headed for the buggy, with Joel looking back at her over his shoulder.

* * *

Georgia didn’t miss the tension between her son and her late friend’s estranged daughter. Nash had set his jaw in that stubborn way he had.

“There’s a bag with lemons under the seat, Nash,” she called after him.

He waved a hand in acknowledgment, and set the boy on the horse’s back while he unharnessed it and led it to a spot in the shade of a tree.

“I’ll make us lemonade and we can chat,” Georgia suggested.