Ruth Read Free Page B

took her to the orphanage when his wife died, he’d left Ruth with a glowing promise that he would soon return. To a ten-year-old, soon meant “not very long.” She remembered crying and holding on to his leg, begging him not to leave her. She didn’t see how she could live without Paws—that’s what she called Edgar—to greet her when she came home from school each day.
    But Edgar Norris had lied to her.
    He didn’t come back; Ruth never saw the man again. Five years had gone by, and she didn’t know if Edgar Norris was dead or alive. She made herself believe that she didn’t care, but the Bible said she was to honor father and mother. Her real Mama and Papa died when she was four, and she had been adopted by the Norrises. But she had no idea how to honor a man who had deserted a child he’d promised to raise.
    “What say, little missy? Is this our dance?”
    Ruth froze when she recognized Oscar Fleming’s feisty intonation. Rats. She’d been on the lookout for Oscar all afternoon, terrified he would seek her out. He’d tried to dance with every woman in attendance, including poor Mary, who had finally begged off and slumped down in the nearest chair to catch her ragged breath.
    Summoning a pleasant smile, Ruth whirled, confronting the nuisance. “Why, Mr. Fleming—here you are again.”
    The old man’s eyes twinkled. He opened both scrawny arms and extended them wide. “What say? Saved the best for last?”
    “Oh, Mr. Fleming, I know you must be worn-out—”
    “Oscar! Call me Oscar, my beauty.” He moved in closer. “They’re playing our song!”
    Before Ruth could invent an excuse, Oscar swung her onto the platform and waltzed her around the wooden deck in a breakneck fashion. The old prospector certainly had oomph!
    Ruth hung on to the squatty miner as pins flew out of her hair and landed beneath other dancers’ feet. She flashed a smiling apology to couples who slipped and stumbled when their feet encountered the shiny hair fasteners. One man whirled to denounce her as he helped his partner up from the dance floor.
    “Hee, hee, hee,” Oscar hooted as he cut between two jigging couples, nearly tripping them with his wild maneuverings. “I knew I’d found me a ringtailed molly!”
    This ring-tailed molly was about to break her neck! Ruth, not accustomed to dancing, struggled to keep her slippers on her feet and her tangled hair out of her eyes. She caught a brief glimpse of Patience, Lily, Harper, and Mary on the sidelines, holding their hands over their mouths, amusement flashing in their eyes. She managed to get off a silent, beseeching look before Oscar gave her a couple of swift turns and then jumped in the air and clicked his heels.
    “By gum, but you’re a filly!”
    Ruth lamely smiled, anxious for the dance to end. Instead, guitars and banjos shifted into a slow waltz. It took Oscar a couple of beats to make the physical adjustment. He jigged, then jagged, and then grasped her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. His breath was stale and his clothes smelled of sweat. Ruth closed her eyes, praying for deliverance. She opened them again, instinctively searching for Dylan. She found him surrounded by a captive group of women as he leisurely ate a piece of wedding cake and exchanged friendly banter. Typical. Where was the courtly gentleman when she really needed him?
    “You’re one of them orphans Wyatt sent for, aren’t you?”
    Ruth’s thoughts snapped back to Oscar, and her feet tried to keep time with his stomping boots. “Yes—I was on the Montgomery wagon train.”
    “Pity.” The old fellow shook his head. “Wyatt’s a known polecat around these parts. I could have told you him and his boys was up to no good.” He swung her around, then propelled her roughly back into his arms—highly irregular for a waltz, as even Ruth knew.
    “I like your name, Ruthie.”
    “Ruth,” she corrected. “Nobody calls me Ruthie. My name is Ruth.”
    “Like in the Bible.”
    “Like in the