Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (2 page)

Ruby Mae shook her head regretfully. “Truth to tell, Preacher,” she said, “you weren't even close. When the good Lord was passin' out feet, he musta given you two left ones.”

“Don't listen to her, David,” Christy said. “I still have all the feeling in most of my toes. Now, what is it, Ruby Mae?”

“I was wantin' to ask you private-like first,” Ruby Mae hesitated.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say to Mr. Grantland, too.”

Ruby Mae twirled a finger around a long lock of hair. “Actually, it do sort of involve Preacher. It's just that I was a-hopin' you could . . . well, my mama always says you can get a man to take the bitterest medicine, if'n you sweeten it first with honey.”

David crossed his arms over his chest. “Come on, Ruby Mae. Miss Christy's not going to sweeten me up. I can't be sweetened.” “Oh, is that right?” Christy asked, fluttering her eyelashes at David.

David ignored her. “Out with it,” he said to Ruby Mae.

Ruby Mae took a deep breath, then let the words tumble out. “I want to race Prince 'cause I just know I can beat the pants off'n the rest of the men 'cause you know he's plumb faster than the wind when I'm a-ridin' him. But I can't less'n you say so 'cause he belongs to the mission and please, please, please say it's all right, Preacher.”

She took another deep breath, smiled wide and batted her eyes. “So I reckon the answer's yes?”

David shook his head. “Assuming I understood you correctly, I'm afraid the answer's no.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Too bad they're not having a talking race. You'd be sure to win, Ruby Mae.”

Ruby Mae groaned. “But, Preacher—”

“No buts, Ruby Mae.”

“But wouldn't you just burst with pride if'n Prince won? Everybody in Cutter Gap would be a-sayin, ‘That preacher owns the finest horse in these here mountains!'”

“To begin with, I don't own Prince. He belongs to the mission.”

“You may as well own him,” Ruby Mae said. “Everybody thinks of him as your horse. You're always ridin' Prince here and there when you minister to folks, sittin' proud and lookin' all fine and fancy.”

“The answer is still no, Ruby Mae.”

“But why?” she persisted, turning her pleading gaze on Christy.

“Are you sure she can't, David?” Christy asked. “After all, Ruby Mae's been riding Prince every day since he was donated to the mission. And she is a wonderful rider.”

Ruby Mae tugged on David's arm. “Miz Christy's right,” she said.

David gave Christy a skeptical look. “What Miss Christy doesn't realize is that when the mountain people throw a race, the prize is usually a bottle of illegal liquor.”

“Moonshine?” Christy cried.

Just then, the music came to a stop and the dancers parted, panting and laughing.

“Now look,” David pouted. “We missed our dance.”

“Next time,” Christy promised. “Now, Ruby Mae, tell me the truth—is David right? Is this a race for moonshine?”

“I don't care none about the prize,” Ruby Mae said. “It ain't about that.”

“I think maybe David's right, Ruby Mae. Besides, it might be dangerous.”

“Ain't dangerous,” Ruby Mae said. “Just flat-out racin' in the field over yonder. No jumpin' or turnin', Miz Christy. Easy as pie.”

“Still, it's Mr. Grantland's decision. He's the one who takes care of Prince.”

“But like you say, Prince is the mission's horse,” Ruby Mae argued. “And besides, I'm the one what's been muckin' out his stall and givin' him baths and kissin' him goodnight.”

David grinned. “She has a point. I never kiss Prince goodnight.”

“And it is true she's been spending a lot of time with Prince,” Christy added. She rolled her eyes. “Some might even say too much time, judging from the way she's been shirking some of her chores and schoolwork.”

“I promise I'll do better on my chores and homework, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae said. “But you just gotta let me race. For all us gal-women in the Cove.”

“What do you mean?” Christy asked.

“I mean none of them smarty-pants men thinks a girl can win.”

One of the musicians nearby laughed loudly. Christy looked over to see Duggin Morrison, Ruby Mae's stepfather, spit out a brown stream of tobacco. He looked old enough to be her grandfather, with his long white beard and wrinkled skin. Ruby Mae and her stepfather had been having trouble getting along, so she was staying at the mission house with Christy and David's sister, Miss Ida.

“No gal-woman can beat the Taylors' horse, Lightning,” Duggin said. “'Specially no spoiledrotten, trouble-makin', no-good stepdaughter o' mine.”

“Hush up, Daddy,” Ruby Mae said. “I can
so
ride better than any man in Cutter Gap.”

“You hear how she sasses me?” Duggin cried. “Talkin' like that to her own step-pa!” Christy pulled Ruby Mae away from Duggin. There was no point in starting up a family feud, right in the middle of Miss Alice's party.

Christy and David led Ruby Mae over to the schoolhouse, which also served as the church on Sundays. Miss Alice was sitting on the porch steps, calmly watching the festivities with her deep gray, gentle gaze. She was wearing a long, green dress, and her slightly graying hair was swept up in a bun. Her right arm was in a sling. She'd sprained her wrist last week when she'd slipped on a muddy incline on her way to help deliver a baby in a remote cabin.

“What do you think about Ruby Mae riding in the race?” Christy asked.

“Well, she's a fine rider, no doubt about that,” Miss Alice said. “And Prince has incredible speed. Not like my Goldie,” she said fondly. Miss Alice's sturdy palomino was getting on in years.

“Oh, Prince do have speed, Miss Alice, he do,” Ruby Mae cried. “One day last week I ran him straight over Big Spoon Creek, and he jumped so high I thought I'd touch heaven—” She glanced over at David, who was frowning. “Oops. Don't get me wrong. It were just a little jump, Preacher, I promise—”

Doctor MacNeill joined them. He was eating one of the gingerbread cookies that Fairlight Spencer had brought for the celebration. “I watched you two dancing,” said the doctor with a grin. “That was some fancy footwork, David. All ten seconds' worth.”

“We were interrupted,” David grumbled.

“Probably a good thing,” the doctor joked. “How's that wrist of yours, Miss Alice?”

“Still swollen,” Miss Alice said. “But I'll be fine soon. Wish it had been my left hand. I can't even write my name. And it makes my nursing duties difficult.”

Ruby Mae tugged on David's sleeve. “You heard Miss Alice, Preacher. Can I ride Prince?”

“Not if there's moonshine involved,” David said firmly.

“I hate to think there's illegal liquor here at your birthday party,” Christy said to Miss Alice.

“Oh, it's here, whether we like it or not,” said the doctor. “Moonshine's a part of mountain life.”

“I'm afraid the doctor's right,” Miss Alice said. “Bird's-Eye Taylor appears to have consumed quite a bit already.” She nodded over toward the lattice-covered springhouse where Bird's-Eye was dozing, snoring loudly. His dirty felt hat covered one eye.

Christy shook her head. Bird's-Eye was the father of her most difficult and troublesome student, seventeen-year-old Lundy. Lundy was big and mean, a constant bully with a chip on his shoulder. From what Christy had seen of his father, it was easy to see why Lundy was so difficult.

“So is the answer no?” Ruby Mae pressed again. “Or yes?”

“I can't let you ride in a race for moonshine,” David said. “As a matter of fact, I won't let a race like that take place here at all.”

“I've already taken care of that,” Miss Alice said with a grin. “I put up two of Miss Ida's apple pies as a prize for the winner of the race, instead of liquor. As much as liquor is prized in this Cove, Miss Ida's pies are even more coveted.”

David laughed. “My sister does make a fine pie.”

“For my part, David, I think you should let Ruby Mae enter the race,” Miss Alice said. “She has as good a chance as any of the men.”

“And it would teach them a lesson,” Christy added. “Sometimes I'm amazed at the way men treat women here in Cutter Gap.”

“Miz Christy is right,” Ruby Mae said. “These men got no respect for womenfolks.”

“I don't know,” David said, rubbing his chin.

Just then, Ruby Mae's stepfather sauntered by. He was weaving a little, as if he might have been drinking, too. “Don't you bother racin', gal,” he yelled. “You ain't got a chance, Ruby Mae.”

Christy spun around. “Mr. Morrison, I think you're going to have to eat your words. Ruby Mae on Prince can beat any man.”

David rolled his eyes. “I didn't give permission yet,” he reminded her.

“But you were going to, weren't you?” Christy asked, giving him a nudge.

David shook his head and sighed. “I can tell when I'm outnumbered. Come on, Ruby Mae. I'll help you get Prince saddled up.”

Two

R
uby Mae stood next to Prince, stroking his glossy neck. They were waiting by the starting line for all the other riders and their horses. “You and me, boy,” she whispered to the beautiful black stallion. “We're a-goin' to show them others.”

“Don't count on it.” Lundy Taylor strode up on Lightning. The big gray stallion gave a hard nudge on Prince's shoulder.

Ruby Mae rolled her eyes. It figured. Even the Taylors' horse was mean. Meanness just plain ran in the family. Maybe it was because Bird's-Eye, Lundy's pa, was a moonshiner. Of course, Ruby Mae's own step-pa had done his share of moonshinin', too.

“You ain't got a chance, Ruby Mae Morrison,” Lundy said with a sneer. “Womenfolk is good for two things—cookin' and jabberin'. Lord knows you know how to talk. I don't know what kind of cook you is, but one way or t'other, you ain't got a chance, you and that preacher-horse.”

“Just you wait and see, Lundy,” Ruby Mae shot back. She ran her hand through Prince's mane, soft and long as the silk in an ear of corn. “Prince is faster'n a fox on fire. You'll see.”

She gazed around at the other entrants. Jake Pentland—nephew of Ben Pentland, the local mailman—was there with a stocky little chestnut mare. Elias Tuttle—the owner of the general store in El Pano, a town about seven miles from Cutter Gap—was riding up on a fancy bay gelding with a wonderful leather saddle, all shiny and tooled. Elias often donated food and supplies to Miz Alice for the mission.

Just then, someone rode up on the other side of her. It was Rob Allen, a tall, slender fourteen-year-old who was one of the best students at school. Miz Christy had even appointed him a Junior Teacher who got to help the other students. Rob was riding a piebald mare named Pegasus, a name Rob had gotten from one of the books he liked to read. Of course,
Pegasus
was such a mouthful that most folks just called the horse “Peg.”

Rob wanted to be a writer when he grew up. Ruby Mae thought that was a grand idea. She wished she wanted to be something, too, but she hadn't quite figured out what it was. She knew she wished her hair wouldn't act like it had a mind of its own on humid summer afternoons. She knew she wished her freckles weren't so darn . . . well,
freckle-y
. And she knew she wished she had two whole pairs of leather shoes as fine and fancy as Miz Christy's.

But those things didn't nearly seem as good as wanting to be something bigger than all outdoors, like a writer. Ruby Mae thought Rob was very special for wanting something so huge and impossible and fine. She also thought he had the cutest little bitty dimple in his cheek when he smiled just so, but of course she'd never told him
that
. And he looked mighty tall, sitting astride his horse and gazing down at her.

“You going to race Peg?” Ruby Mae asked Rob.

“Why, Pegasus is plumb fast, when she puts her mind to it.” Rob smiled shyly. “Course, she's got a mind of her own. Never do know when she's in the mood to run.”

“I s'pose you're goin' to tell me how I ain't got a chance of winnin',” Ruby Mae said.

“Nope. I seen you ridin' Prince. For a girl, you handle a horse fine. Even for a man, I reckon.” He gave a cockeyed grin, then shrugged. “Truth is, you ride like you was part horse yourself, Ruby Mae.”

Ruby Mae could hardly keep from hollering, she was so thrilled at Rob's words. No man or boy had ever admitted to her she was a good rider before. But all she said was, “Well, then, may the best man . . . or gal . . . win.”

By now, quite a crowd had formed to watch the race. Everywhere Ruby Mae looked, it seemed like she saw happy couples. It must be because spring was in the air. Lizette Holcombe was holding hands with Wraight Holt, who'd stopped playing the piano to come watch the fun. Bessie Coburn, Ruby Mae's best friend, was whispering to John Spencer, a boy Bessie had a crush on for what seemed like forever and a day. And as for Miz Christy—well, she seemed to have two fellows sweet on her—the doctor and the preacher. Miz Christy said Ruby Mae was imagining things, but Ruby Mae had an eye for romance. She could tell the doctor and the preacher both liked Miz Christy, all right. Question was, which one was Miz Christy hankering after?

Of course, Ruby Mae was in love, too—but not with any fellow. She was in love with a horse. Since Prince had come to the mission, it was all she could do to think about anything else. Before school, after school, sometimes during school, if she could find an excuse—Ruby Mae spent every waking moment thinking about Prince. She'd always loved animals, from the little three-footed squirrel she'd nursed back to health after he'd been attacked by an animal, to the old owl who lived in the sycamore near her cabin. But Prince was different. When she was riding him, she felt like anything was possible.