Ruby by Ruth Langan

“Millie Potter always sends a breakfast tray over. It should be here any minute.”
    Then he was gone. And Ruby was left to stare around the room. It was sparsely furnished, with little more than a bed, a dresser and a bedside table on which rested the basin and pitcher of fresh water.
    Why would a man settle for this life? Was he so wedded to that gun at his hip and badge at his chest that he would accept such puny rewards? A tiny, cramped room in the back of a jail?
    She slipped from bed and stared down at herself with dismay. Her gown was wrinkled, her hair in disarray. She set about making herself presentable.
     
    She washed her face and combed her fingers through her hair. There was nothing that could be done about her gown, but she smoothed the skirt and pulled on the fine kid slippers that had been set neatly beside the bed. She couldn’t recall Quent removing them, but then there was much about the previous night that she couldn’t recall. But she seemed to remember hands tucking the covers around her, and brushing her hair from her face. Hands that were rough and work worn. And surprisingly gentle.
    As she made up the bed, she breathed in the lingering scents of horses and leather and tobacco. Scents she recalled from her father’s infrequent visits. All through the night she’d found them somehow soothing.
    How could this be? How could a man who earned his living with a gun be gentle and soothing? She shook her head, dispelling such foolish thoughts.
    When she opened the door she saw Beau sitting on his bunk, enjoying coffee and biscuits. Quent was at his desk, frowning over some papers. A tray, covered by a linen towel, rested on his desktop.
    “You’re just in time,” Quent said. “The coffee’s hot, and Millie baked cinnamon biscuits.”
    “It’s kind of Mrs. Potter to provide breakfast.” Ruby accepted a cup from Quent’s hand and began to sip strong, hot coffee.
    “It’s her job. The town pays her to provide meals for the prisoners.”
    Ruby almost burned her tongue. For a few minutes she’d managed to forget why she was here.
    “Speaking of which...” Quent glanced up at the sound of horses. “That’s probably your sisters come to take you home.”
    At the chorus of female voices outside the door, Ruby braced herself for what was to come.
    “Quent Regan, what have you done with Ruby?” Diamond, huge with child, dressed in her usual buckskins and dung-caked boots, strode into the jail, ready to pick a fight. At the sight of her sister calmly drinking coffee, she came to an abrupt halt.
    “Oh, thank heavens you’re all right.” Pearl, trailing Diamond, pressed a hand to the bodice of her shell-pink gown and sniffed as she looked around the dingy room.
    Jade, who strode in behind her sisters, shot the marshal an angry look. “You gave us quite a fright, sending that message with your deputy. We thought Ruby was actually in jail.”
    “She was. Is,” he corrected.
    “Make up your mind, Quent.” Diamond made no effort to mask her impatience. “Is Ruby in jail? Or isn’t she?”
    “She is. But I’m releasing her to the three of you. And you’d better make sure she doesn’t have reason to be back here.”
    “I think you’d better explain, Marshal.” Pearl’s tone was cool and polite. “Why did you arrest Ruby?”
    “Because she helped herself to things that didn’t belong to her.”
    “You stole?” Pearl turned to her sister, her brows lifted in stunned surprise.
     
    “I didn’t exactly steal.” Ruby shot a furious look at the marshal.
    “What did you do? Exactly?” Pearl demanded.
    “I...was practicing Mama’s petit vengeance.” Embarrassed by her explanation, Ruby sloshed coffee over the rim of her cup.
    Jade, looking cool and composed in green silk, took the cup from her sister’s hand and placed it on the marshal’s desk. “Perhaps,” she said in her slightly accented voice, “we should discuss this back at the ranch.” She glanced knowingly at Beau