Ruby (Dakotah Treasures Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Lauraine Snelling

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193 pages

English

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A New Dakotah Territory Saga From Bestselling Author Lauraine Snelling!Book 1 of Dakotah Treasures. Author Lauraine Snelling once again takes readers west to the untamed land of Dakota Territory, introducing new characters both unique and appealing. Ruby Torvald and her young sister, Opal, have received an inheritance from their long-lost father who left home years ago to seek his fortune in the Black Hills. When they leave their comfortable situation in Chicago and arrive at the mining town of Medora to claim their inheritance, the sisters discover that rather than the legacy of gold they expected, their father has left them a shocking bequest. Ruby's bold determination in the face of scandal leads the reader on a journey both heartwarming and inspiring.

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 août 2003
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441203236
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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COVER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
© 2003 by Lauraine Snelling
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan. www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2012
Ebook corrections 5.30.2012, 06.06.2019, 01.30.2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-0323-6
Cover design by Dan Thornberg Cover building photo: Nebraska State Historical Society Photograph Collections
Dedication
Friends can make a life richer, push one to higher accomplishments, keep one from making mistakes, and pick up the pieces when one does make errors in judgment. Friends can also trigger books. Ruby is dedicated to my writer-friends, the Round Robins, Chelley, Kathleen and Kitty.
Thanks in bunches.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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About the Author
Books by Lauraine Snelling
Back Cover
Acknowledgments
Historical societies are great research places for historical writers, and for this new series I thank the North Dakota Historical Society at Bismarck and Diane Rogness, the curator at the Chateau de Mores in Medora, for information and early pictures, of which there are few, of Little Missouri. Doug and Mary at the Western Edge Bookstore in Medora added bits and pieces to this series and directed me to the most helpful books and maps.
I am blessed with the most able and helpful assistant in Cecile, who has learned she is part brainstormer, part editor, part encourager, and part researcher. When she came to work for me, she didn’t realize she would lose sleep over the characters in these books.
Thanks to husband Wayne for becoming more expert in the care and feeding of a writer under deadline and for all the research, reading, and remembering he contributed. It sure helps to be married to a man who can pull historical dates out of his mind without looking them up and who enjoys being a partner of this writing life of ours.
My editor, Sharon Asmus, and all the staff at Bethany House Publishers did their usual fine work, for which I am extremely grateful. I waited a long time for an agent, and Deidre Knight has helped make my writing life both simpler and more diverse. Thanks all of you.
CHAPTER ONE
New York, April 1882
Scolding never did any good.
Ruby Torvald, hands on her hips, glared at her nine-year-old sister. No, of course Opal had not meant to break the Dresden shepherdess. Of course she had only been looking at it.
But how often had she been told to look, not touch?
“Opal, you knew better.”
Strawberry curls flying rampant about her freckled cheeks in spite of the French braids Ruby had plaited so carefully that morning, Opal refused to meet her sister’s frowning gaze.
“Uff da! What am I going to do with you?” What am I going to tell Mrs. Brandon, and more importantly, how am I going to pay for that? Ruby picked up the pieces, halfheartedly fitting the full skirt onto the upper body, along with the head. As if any shepherdess would really wear a flouncy skirt like that and full petticoats too. Only the lamb at her side and the shepherd’s crook gave an inkling of the purpose of the figurine.
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
Ruby tried but failed to trap the sigh that seemed a continuation of many others.
“I really am.” With the toe of her shoe, Opal traced the rose blossom woven into the Aubusson rug on which she stood.
“I know you are. But you need to think of how sorry you might be before . . .” Ruby laid the broken pieces in the trash basket at her feet. Perhaps if she rearranged the bric-a-brac on the whatnot table, Mrs. Brandon would never notice the shepherdess was missing. “Go back to the schoolroom and write fifty times on the board, ‘I will not touch other people’s things.”’
“But, Ruby, I already did all my lessons, and you said we would go to the park after Bernie’s nap.”
Ruby closed her eyes to steel herself against the beseeching looks from the young girl in front of her. She’d had to be more mother than sister in the five years since Bestemor died. How much easier life had been when they had lived with their grandmother.
You mustn’t go around feeling sorry for yourself, she scolded. No one wants to attend a pity party, even though you’d be the guest of honor . She pointed in the direction of the stairs, ignoring the last pleading look thrown over Opal’s sturdy shoulder.
Ruby took the basket back to the kitchen and dropped the pieces in the garbage.
“Not another one.” Mrs. Fleish, the head housekeeper of the Brandon mansion, gave Ruby a pitying glance.
“Ja, and now I have to tell the missus.”
“That shepherdess was one of her favorites.”
“I know.” Ruby exchanged a look with the woman who had taken her under her wing those five years ago when Ruby and her small sister, Opal, had joined the staff at the Brandon house. Ruby had started out as a maid but, because of her love for children, had moved up to nanny’s helper and had often filled in when one of the many governesses parading through had left—or been dismissed.
She was the only one who could handle twelve-year-old Miss Alicia, the eldest of the Brandon children, who was far too bright for her age. Penelope, at ten, was a willing pupil, until she and Opal got their heads together, a sure sign that mischief would soon show a face. Jason had spent much of his eight years with his nose in a book but had little regard for the demands of a teacher, unless she was presenting a topic of interest to him. Ruby knew how to charm him into being interested in anything he needed to learn, so Mr. and Mrs. Brandon had finally given up looking for a new governess.
“Don’t worry, miss, she won’t fire you, not even for that bit of fancy clay.” Mrs. Klaus, the cook, looked up from peeling potatoes, the skins curling into the bucket kept for compost in the garden. “She knows you are the only one who can manage her children.”
“She won’t think I’m managing very well today. She caught Jason sliding down the banister. He said he was studying the properties of friction between wood and cloth at high rates of speed.”
Cook coughed to cover a chuckle. Her favoritism of the eldest son was a well-documented fact. Ask any of the children who it was that always got the biggest cookie or the choice of puddings.
Might as well get this over with so it isn’t hanging over my head like the scimitar in the story we read this morning . Ruby dusted her hands off on her apron, raising a slight cloud of chalk dust since this was her schoolroom apron, then hung it on the hook. “Is she in her sitting room or the sunroom?”
Mrs. Klaus glanced at the carved walnut clock on the wall. “Most likely the sunroom now. She’ll be calling for tea any minute. If you want to wait and take the tray with you, might be a good time for you to talk with her.”
“I promised to take the children to the park, so I need to get this over with.”
A bell chimed three times as they spoke.
“The sunroom.” Cook set a plate of lemon bars on the silver tray already waiting on the table, along with bone china cups, a pitcher of milk, a sugar bowl with tongs for the sugar cubes, and slices of lemon on another plate. Napkins lay folded on the side and teaspoons gleamed on the white damask. Three golden daffodils made a splash of color in a crystal bud vase.
“Here ’tis.” Cook set the cream-toned teapot on the tray. With hands across her ample front, she studied the tray to make sure all was in perfect order. Mrs. Brandon loved to have her afternoon tea just so. But then Mrs. Brandon liked to have most things just so. She would have liked ‘just so’ to have included her children, but they constantly disabused her of that notion.
Ruby picked up the tray and, turning, backed out the swinging door that led from the kitchen to the butler’s pantry and thence to the walnut-paneled hall leading to the living quarters.
“Is it teatime?” Alicia, the eldest Brandon daughter, leaned over the regal carved banister and stage-whispered down to Ruby.
“Yes. But isn’t it Penelope’s turn today?”
Alicia shook her head and, with shoulders back, paraded down the stairs. “I traded with her.”
“And who might you be this time?”
“Queen Victoria.” The girl held out a limp hand. “You may kiss my ring if you like.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Nay, and I shan’t curtsy either. Sorry, Your Highness. Please follow me or lead the way, as you prefer.” She took a few steps and paused. “Why did Penelope agree to exchange tea days with you?”
“She was indisposed.” Again the regal tone.
“Oh.” I have a feeling I should ask what she means by that, but . . .
They entered the sunroom, its rich gold tones burnished by the westering sun. Pots of palms, schefflera plants, and ivy topiaries brought in touches of green, and a pudgy pot covered with waxy gardenia blossoms leant a fragrance all its own. Ruby set the tray on the low glass table in front of the rattan sofa where Mrs. Brandon leaned against the gold-and-orange-flowered cushions.
“Thank you, my dear, that looks lovely. Alicia, you may pour today. Ruby, you will join us, will you not?”
Now I won’t be able to make my announcement and a hasty retreat . Dutifully she responded in the affirmative and took the chair indicated.
“Milk or lemon, Mother?” Alicia looked up from pouring steaming tea into one of the cups.
“Milk today, please, and one lump.”
Ali