The Winter Pearl

“Looking for something?” Ruby’s voice came from behind him.

He whirled back around. “The whiskey. I was looking for the whiskey.”

“I—I don’t happen to have any down here right now.”

“Don’t have none? Why not?”

“I told you. I’ll explain after a while.”

“Well, you’re sure taking your sweet time about it, ain’t ya?”

Ruby wore a white apron edged with ruffles over her green dress. A dark green ribbon tied back her long brown hair. At hardly more than a hundred pounds, she looked like a doll herself. Except for a few wrinkles around her chocolate-colored eyes, she appeared almost as young as Honor. Regardless, she was a long way from nineteen. Lucas intended to keep that in mind when selecting a mother for his future child.

“So if you would like to go upstairs now and take a bath,” Ruby said, “you’ll find cloths for washing and drying next to the washtub.” She handed him the kettle. “I’ll have supper ready by the time you finish, and then we can talk.”

Ruby was up to something. He’d seen that look before. Still, a hot bath appealed to him. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find me some whiskey up there, he speculated.

Lucas took the stairs to the guest bedroom. Like the downstairs rooms, everything had been changed since his last visit. Sheer, yellow curtains replaced the blues ones he’d seen on the windows before, and a lacy, white bedspread covered the double bed. A tub for bathing stood in the middle of a circular rag rug. The bucket of cold water waited near the rug. Lucas put the kettle next to it.

His feet hurt from walking his horse a mile or so back, and he wanted to sit down and take off his boots. The only chair looked as fancy as the bedspread. Seated on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his boots, and Harriet’s warning filled his mind.

Don’t empty your boots on the floor, she’d always said.

Old, naggin’ women are all alike, he told himself. That’s why I’m gettin’ me a young one—like Honor.

Lucas poured dirt from his boots onto the floor until nothing more came out. Then he let them drop. Thump. Thump.

Now where would Ruby have put the whiskey? She must have a bottle or two hidden somewhere.

A chest of drawers stood against the north wall. He pulled out the top drawer and threw out what was inside, tossing everything on the floor.

When he didn’t find any bottles, Lucas jerked out the second drawer and repeated the process. Then the third drawer and, finally, the fourth.

Heat warmed his face. His muscles tensed and anger welled inside him. Now he really needed a drink.

Crouching down, Lucas looked under the bed. Nothing. His jaw tightened as he got to his feet again. He snatched the covers and threw them on the floor.

“Where’s that whiskey?” Lucas bumped his toe on the iron bedpost. “Ouch!”

Hopping on one leg, he reached down, grabbed his toe and held it. He’d thought his feet hurt before, but nothing compared to what he felt now.

A yellow trunk, decorated with painted flowers and vines, stood at the foot of the bed. He threw back the lid and removed dresses, petticoats and delicate undergarments. Near the bottom, his hand touched a hard object under a frilly, pink nightgown. He pushed the gown to one side. A dark-colored flask, flat on both sides, caught his attention.

He grabbed it and unscrewed the top. The smell of whiskey filled the room. Lucas lifted the flask to his lips and swallowed. The golden liquid burned its way into his stomach. He sighed deeply and took another gulp.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Ruby called from downstairs.

“Be there in a minute,” he shouted back.

Lucas dropped his dirty clothes on the rag rug. First, he poured cold, then hot water into the wooden tub. At last, he climbed into the warm water, carrying the flask with him.

Ten minutes later, Lucas, in tan trousers and a fresh blue shirt, came downstairs. He felt better after bathing and putting on clean clothes. Just not as good as he would feel after he had a few more drinks.

The dinner table was covered with a blue linen cloth. Ruby set out her best white china. Lucas sat down and reached for the platter of fried chicken.

“Not yet, Lucas.”

“Why not?”

“We haven’t said the blessing.”

“Blessing? When did you start that?”

“A few weeks ago. I go to church every Sunday. You should, too. I was baptized.”

“Baptized? You?”

She nodded. “I’m a saved Christian now.”

He wondered if she still drank, but didn’t ask.

Ruby folded her hands like she was about to pray. When Lucas didn’t fold his, she sent him a scolding glance—like his mother used to do when he was a child.

Lucas groaned and folded his hands.

“Thank you, Lucas,” she said.

After Ruby said grace, she handed him the chicken.

“What am I getting to drink?” he asked.

“Did I forget to give you your tea?” Casually, she pointed to the steaming cup by his plate. “Oh, there it is.” Her smile held a hint of amusement. “Drink up while it’s hot.”

“Tea ain’t what I want, and you know it.”

“Sorry. It’s all I have on hand. Now, will you please pass the mashed potatoes?”

After lunch, they moved into the kitchen for apple pie and coffee. Lucas enjoyed her desserts, but he would like some alcohol better.

Did Ruby intend to pour him a shot of whiskey or not?

“Have you finished your pie yet?” she asked.

He took the last bite and swallowed. “I have now.” He wiped his mouth with a blue-and-white checkered napkin.

Ruby got up and stood by her chair. “I would like to go out and see your mare before we have our talk.” She pulled a carrot from a bowl on the kitchen table and held it up for him to see. “This is for Lady. I remember how she likes carrots.”

She gathered several other things and placed them in a wicker basket. None was a bottle with liquid in it. So he didn’t pay much attention.