Tracking ruby, p.1
Tracking Ruby, page 1
Tracking Ruby
Jessica Greyson
Tracking Ruby
Jessica Greyson
Published by Jessica Greyson, 2017.
Tracking Ruby
Copyright ©2017 by Jessica Greyson
jessicagreyson.com
Published by Createspace
Cover design by Greyson Graphics
This book was inspired by a person of the past, any similarities or likeness to anyone else living or dead is coincidental and unintentional on the authors part.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored by a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written authorization from the author. The only exception is brief quotations in written reviews.
All scriptures are taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible, public domain.
All Pride and Prejudice quotes are taken from Jane Austen’s work Pride and Prejudice in public domain.
ISBN-13: 978-1979739276
ISBN-10: 1979739277
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
TRACKING RUBY
First edition. December 16, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Jessica Greyson.
ISBN: 978-1386980384
Written by Jessica Greyson.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Copyright Page
Tracking Ruby
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Also By Jessica Greyson
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to pick up this book, I hope you enjoy it.
This book at the point of publishing has been sitting on my shelf for nearly five years waiting to be noticed. You see this book didn’t go as planned.
I met the inspiration for this book, in a picture on the wall of a stairway landing.
Such an interesting story too.
A girl who had been deputized!
My novel writing mind went wild, and I stored it away for someday. I did some research and had a difficulty finding what I was looking for, maybe I just wasn’t looking in the right places...who knows.
So, I decided to “Disney-fy” the story, base it on a real person in a real time and place and tell a cute, quaint story about a deputy who helped her pa. Because that was just fascinating and had so many possibilities.
However, in waltzed my protagonist, he didn’t entirely go with the little town idea, he wanted to go places and dragged my deputy off to where she wasn’t really a deputy at all.
I huffed and puffed and away went the story on its own steam of imagination as Jesse took over the plot, which wasn’t what I had planned.
The story has sat sorry and punished for its behavior on my shelf for many years now, I’ve decided to forgive it and let it see the world.
In the future, I might revisit the deputy, and investigate her story, and pull together a more faithful to life tale, under the title Daughter Deputy or something along those lines...I hope I get to do a sixteen-year-old girl who was deputized in the Dakota’s justice someday.
However, this book was bound to be as it is, and I hope you will enjoy and love it for its own sake.
I hope you find that old tincture and warmth you see in those delightful vintage and Victorian writers (maybe even some of their, now considered lousy punctuation and grammar? I only learned from the best you know) far gone but still treasured, within these new pages, perhaps tainted by my modern vocabulary.
This isn’t a historical novel as I had hoped, but it leans in that direction, and I hope it gives you that sense that you’ve been somewhere and met old friends and made new and enjoyed your trip along the way.
Thanks for Reading,
Jessica Greyson
Table of Contents
Letter from the Author
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 1
Sophie Brown sighed and pushed away from the last of the papers that were in front of her. It was another good day’s work done, at least for now. She glanced at the clock, it was only six. Her father would hopefully be home before it grew dark in a few hours. He’d come striding through that door and tell her all the details of the cattle rustling that had gone on at the McFadden Ranch; it would be her duty to be interested, she was the town’s only deputy and her father would want her help in drawing up a report. Her mother had taught him how to read and write, but it still didn’t come easily to him. However, he insisted on keeping records.
With a rueful smile, Sophie looked down at the six-sided star pinned to her blouse. She had been deputized on her sixteenth birthday, presented with that badge and the heavy, shiny silver handcuffs that hung in a holster of her own invention at her waist along with a Colt revolver. At that thought she couldn’t help but smile and brush her fingers over the smooth handle, it was an elegant piece of work. Most girls would have been disgusted by such gift on their birthday, and Sophie had to admit that she had barely kept back the disappointment she felt when she opened her gift to discover a gun, a pair of handcuffs and a silver star. But, her Pa needed the help, and with Aunt Martha living with them she could let go of her household responsibilities. Besides she and Aunt Martha weren’t always on the best of terms.
Best of terms, perhaps that is an understatement.
Sophie couldn’t help but sigh heavily; she knew her aunt meant well, but her father’s sister was just so different from her mother.
Mother, I miss you. I miss you so much.
Opening a drawer Sophie reached inside and pulled out one of the few things in her life that could make her smile.
She ran her hand over the cover, her fingers pausing at the small indented upper right corner of the book. Memories swirled around her, and she closed her eyes.
“You know who made these marks?” Sophie was grateful she could still hear her mother’s voice and the British accent she had carried with her from England. She had giggled and shook her head, knowing full well but wanting to hear the story again, it was one of her favorites
“You did. One day you were playin’ so nicely on the floor with your own toys while I was readin’ a book when Mrs. Higs called. You were always such a good baby I left it on the table to ans’er the door, an’ when I came back, you know what I sawr?”
Her mother had a way of putting r’s on the end of words like saw.
“Wouldn’t you know it, there was my little girl sittin’ on the floor chewin’ on my book. You were teevin, and that brown leather must have looked pretty good to you.”
Her fingers ran over the gilded imprint of the title. It has been her mother’s prize position, she was twelve when her mother gave it to her.
“You are a young lady now, and I think you should have it. Besides you’ve already put your mark on it.”
She must have known she was dying and didn’t want to taint the book’s memories with her illness and death.
“Hello, Miss Austen how are you today? Anything lovely going on in your world?”
Of course, there was no reply.
Opening the books, she began reading. Pride and Prejudice was about the closest things she had to friends. True, Carol Gingham; was having a party tonight, but she didn’t feel like getting all gussied up only to dance half the night away and have sore feet from prancing around in the slender pair of French heels Aunt Martha had bought for her. They were just a bit too snug for comfort and blisters usually resulted from prolonged use. There had been reasons she had left some paperwork for after din
Sophie shut it and stared at the golden letters that spelled out Jane Austen.
“You know Miss Austen, I must beg to differ with you, perhaps it was: “A truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Back in your day, but out here it must be that a single girl must be in want of a good man of any fortune.”
Opening the book once again she smiled and began to read losing herself in the world of her dear friend Elizabeth Bennet.
Time passed, and as Sophie put her book down and reached for the matches, she glanced at the clock and bit her lower lip. She picked up the book once again.
“Well, Lizzy, until tomorrow, but you can thank your stars for something. Your mother didn’t call you an infidel like Aunt Martha did when you turned down the preacher, I didn’t want to marry a man who could almost be my father. He’s a good man—unlike your Mr. Collins—but he was a rather disappointing first proposal. I suppose he is my first because he is the only one not afraid of the law.” Sophie giggled, then sighed and tucked Lizzy and Miss Austen carefully into her drawer, setting her papers with their dried ink in order for her pa.
It was half-past eight as she scuttled out of the front door, locking it behind her. Dusk had settled, and the sun was waning in the western sky, only a hint of gold hovered on the horizon. If she hurried, she’d be home just before dark and in time to tuck Simon into bed with a story.
The April wind was brisk, and as it bit into her blouse, she wished she’d brought her shawl or at least worn the Zouave jacket, Aunt Martha had made it for her. Hideous as it was, it was made of serviceable wool the shade somewhere between yellow and brown that made her think of mustard plaster. She hated mustard, the very thought brought back memories of her mother’s deathbed the and scent seemed to fill in her nostrils. Sophie shoved her memories aside trying to think of something else. At least the coat was fashionably cut, even if the color was an eyesore.
Sophie shivered and rubbed her arms to keep warm. She let her mind wander to the swishing sound her skirt made, and did an impromptu twirl in the middle of the sidewalk. Smiling, she watched for her shoes to peep out from under her petticoat and skirt as she walked. She hummed a little ballad her mother had always sung in the long-ago days, she loved the old ballads, Pa didn’t care much to hear them. Her reverie was broken by rising voices coming from down the street at the saloon. Pausing, she turned. It was her duty as a deputy to make sure peace was kept.
As she hesitated, wondering if the fight was just the beginning or if it would squelch—though, the latter thought was wishful thinking. There was the glittering sound of shattering glass as a man came bodily through the window rolling onto the street outside. Another followed him a moment later a few men hurried outside, followed by a mass was exodus through the swinging doors.
Gathering her skirt in one hand she ran towards them, whatever was going on; needed to be stopped.
The group circled a man, and she could hear the sound of beating and swearing.
“Stand back!” she shouted pushing herself forward through the throng who parted at the demand of her hands.
At last she made it to the inner ring, where they were beating up a single man.
“Stop!”
They didn’t heed her. Other men stepped forward to help, and they were pulled into the brawl. Taking out her pistol she cocked and fired it into the air.
The men paused.
“I said stop. Now, what is going on here?”
“This man here was disturbing the peace ma’am.”
“Really, because it looks like to me you’re the ones breaking the peace.”
“He’s a good fur nothin’ outsider.”
There was a chorus of agreements.
“Get lost all of ya, I’ll take care of this mess.”
Soon only five men and the man on the ground were still standing there.
“I said get lost; I have it under control.”
“He’s a wild man. Miss you better let us take care of him for you.” The twilight had dwindled the men into shadows. She couldn’t see any of their faces, but she knew who was speaking. It was the voice of trouble; Twist, head hand of a Mr. Brand’s ranch was known for his back and highhanded dealings.
“I said he’s my problem, Twist,” she reiterated.
“A girl like you shouldn’t have to deal with the likes of him.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t, but thanks to the likes of you. He is mine. Now, I said get lost.”
Twist came and stood directly in front of her. Sophie could hear him moving the chaw of tobacco in his mouth, he turned his head and spat.
“I have a proposal for you. One of my fellows escorts you home, and we’ll take care of this rogue for you. Nobody the wiser.”
The word proposal, put a wrinkle in Sophie’s spirit and she twirled the pistol, stopping it as it pointed at the ground and fired.
“Watch what you are doing girl!” Twist yowled as he stepped back.
“Deputy, if you don’t mind. You, watch it next time I might aim for your foot instead of the ground.” Sophie spat back.
“Come on men, we’ve got better things to do,” said Twist turning.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, hidin’ behind the skirt of the law,” one man sneered as they walked away.
“It seems I am here facein’ it, you’re the ones runnin’,” said the victim of the fight, speaking for the first time. His voice cracked with hidden laughter.
“Put your arms out,” commanded Sophie, taking the cuffs from their holder and removing the key from the small pouch. She slipped the cuffs around his wrists and tightening them with the key.
“Follow me, and don’t give me any trouble,” she said cocking and un-cocking her gun with the proficiently of an experienced gunman, which she was. At least in target practice.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, miss.”
Sophie glanced at him in the dark but could see none of his features distinctly. She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or if he was being truthful. He didn’t sound shifty, but anyone dealing with Twist’s gang could be into anything.
He’s probably some suave cheat, lucky to be alive, don’t be swayed by the honest sound of him. “You all right to get on your feet?”
“Yeah.”
“Anything broke?” Maybe I shouldn’t have turned down their help so quickly if he can’t move, but I can’t risk them finding out my secret and perhaps...he’s okay?
“Maybe, but it’ll mend. Otherwise I am well body and soul.”
Sophie took a sigh of relief, she would be okay. There would be no fainting spells tonight.
He grunted as he rose to his feet. “Where are we going?”
“Jail.”
“I didn’t know you’d done something worthy of jail too.”
Sophie rolled her eyes, No wonder he got himself in trouble with Twist and his gang, with a smart mouth like that.
She didn’t bother replying, and he followed her obediently into the dark. Taking out another key from her pouch, she undid the door she had locked several minutes before. Stepping in Sophie reached for the matches, the room was now in complete darkness. Striking a match, she lifted the glass of the oil lamp and lit the wick, as it caught flame she turned it up for more light. Lamp in hand, she turned to face her prisoner so he could see she was serious as she questioned him. But a moment later she was undone, a tingle rushed up to her neck as everything in her body plummeted into complete darkness.
AT THE SOUND OF HER voice, he had been surprised to find he was rescued. Her quick fingeredness with her gun worried him a little, but was there really anything to worry about? He nipped back the questions that came budding after that thought.
She had placed the cold metal around his wrists tightening it with the little key. Her voice seemed worried as she asked him how he was feeling and other than the fact he was sure he had bruised ribs from their steel-toed boots. He would be fine, at least that is what he told himself as he rose to his feet. Every movement cried in pain, but he couldn’t let anyone know he was hurt if he could help it. He winced as they walked, the movement and gravity caused a rush of blood from his nose, and he growled under his breath, but he’d be all right until he could take care of it.
