Ruby clasps Virgil’s hand. It’s bigger than hers now. A large sign picketed in the ground in front of the newly-remodeled hotel reads THE MIRACLE. Ruby will never refer to the inn as a roadhouse again.
“You were right, Virge. The perfect name. Didn’t Wink do a swell job on the sign?”
Ruby and Virgil walk the perimeter of the hotel, painted white now from eaves to foundation. Each floor has two new water closets, no more outhouse. A telephone sits in the parlor, waiting for the new exchange. The front verandah and the back porch are fortified. But what Ruby is most excited about is the new icehouse, adjacent to the kitchen.
Ruby and Virgil cross the large flagstone patio to the edge of the three-hole golf course carved into the back plot, the flattest place in Jericho.
“Still think it’s a waste of time,” Ruby says.
“You’ll thank me for it, Ma. That, and the tennis court.” He motions to a tidy dirt court off to the right. “One day, we’ll put in a pool.”
“That will be the day, Virge. I’ll be working until I’m a hundred and ten to pay this off as it is—”
“The bank?”
“And Sheldon. Again. But it’s worth it, by God, it’s worth it.” Ruby strides to the riding stables between the hotel and the new Burton’s General Store. A large paddock holds a stallion, a gelding, and two mares. The large black stallion has a white diamond on his forehead and a white snip on his muzzle; the gelding is at least fifteen hands high, a handsome buckskin with a thick, dark mane. A palomino mare with a white blaze on her nose cozies up to the fence. The other, a stunning bay, shies away as Ruby enters the corral.
“Hello, Sunny.” Ruby greets the palomino, strokes her neck. Sunny lowers her head and Ruby rests her forehead against the mare’s. The bay, tentative, whinnies. “Shh, it’s alright, girl.” Ruby reaches for Lady and strokes her as well. Clucking for the gelding, Ruby waits for the large horse to nicker. “Fine boy, aren’t you.” Bright nudges his face toward Ruby; she finds that sweet spot under his mane and scratches there. Is he favoring one foot? She’ll keep an eye out. The stallion paws the ground. He’s the only one tethered. “One minute, Jake.” She nuzzles the gelding again and turns toward the stallion with a hand outstretched. “I didn’t forget about you.” How could she forget that name? Blow job, knife in the back, shovel? Faster than a deacon takes up a collection will Ruby find a new name for Jake. George, now there’s a fine name. Like my pop.
“Here, George.” In her hand, a lump of sugar, like Big Burl used to give her when she was learning to talk. Ruby scratches the stallion’s forehead as he lowers his head to smell her hand. His warm lips snatch the lump and leave Ruby’s hand wet.
Back in the kitchen, Ruby takes a pitcher of water from the new icebox and pours a glass. The new icehouse is only steps away, lined with large stones and drain hole for blocked ice to melt. Now if she can only figure out how to make ice in the desert instead of ordering it in large blocks from Tucson, she’ll be a rich woman.
She won’t have paying customers until next week so Ruby invites her usual guests to supper. Sheldon, Doc, Wink, Virgil, and Sam are already here. She has yet to invite Mae Burton. Neither Mae nor Ruby has made good on their threat to out the other. It’s an uneasy silence, like either of them could pull the trigger on it at any time.
Margaret arrives, giving Ruby a brief hug. A hugger, Ruby is not, but she did institute it, that day in the schoolroom. They’ve gotten into the habit. Margaret is wearing white today, a change from her usual brown. Ruby remarks that it becomes her.
Dog arrives late, his hat askew. It looks like he hasn’t changed clothes in a week. He barges into the dining room, a notebook in his hand. “Big quake in San Francisco,” he says. “News just in on the telegraph.”
Gasps, all eyes riveted on the newshawk.
“Early reports say the city is flattened.”
“My God,” Swendsen says.
“Tell us more, Dog,” Sheldon says.
Webber reads from a notepad. “This from the Call-Chronicle-Examiner: ‘Earthquake and Fire: San Francisco in Ruins.’”
Margaret gasps and reaches out instinctively to touch Ruby’s arm.
Dog keeps reading. “And this from The Evening Times: ‘A Thousand Persons Reported to be Dead. City is in Flames … Firemen Helpless …Water Mains Burst, Leaving Buildings at Fire’s Mercy …’” He looks up over his spectacles. “The San Jose Mercury and Herald says it all: ‘San Francisco Annihilated.’”
Dog shakes his head. “Gone. The whole city.”
Ruby’s face goes cold. Perce. Maybe he’s in Stockton or Sacramento. That’s far enough from San Francisco, isn’t it? But please, please, don’t be in San Francisco.
“When will you have more news, Dog?” Swendsen asks.
“Maybe later tonight. I’ve got to get back to the telegraph.”
“Come, sit a minute, Dog. Food’s going cold,” Ruby says.
“You aren’t the first one to command this old Dog to sit, Ruby.”
“Good one, Dog.”
“We’ve had enough trouble here in Jericho, nearly burned to the ground three times now,” Wink says.
Damn Mae.
“My money’s on Burton setting that fire himself,” Sheldon says. “The way he lit out of town.”
What you don’t know, Sheldon …
He continues, seemingly unaware of Ruby’s furrowed forehead. “Although it’s quite the handsome shop Mae Burton has there, now. I don’t know how she does it without a husband.”
Ruby glares at Sheldon. “Give a woman credit.”
“Not you I’m talking about, Ruby.”
Ruby’s face softens, but just a bit. “She won’t be on her own for long, that’s my bet. Husbands are easy to come by, if you have enough money.”
“Ruby …” Margaret says.
“Don’t be ‘Ruby’-ing me, Margaret. That woman is a conniver. She’ll have a new man in that new shop before you can skin a cat.”
“If there’s a new man in town,” Dog says, “I’ll notice.”
“And write him up?” Margaret asks. “Regardless of whether it’s true?”
Dog places his hands over his heart. “Dagger, Miss Stern. Straight to my heart.”
“Am I right? Not everything we read in the Courier-Journal is true?”
“I’ve been known to find a way to get everything worth reading in Hellicho into the paper.”
“Have I told you how much I loathe you, Dog?” Ruby sticks her tongue out. That man can get her all riled up in no time.
Dog snickers. “You love me, Ruby. I know it.”
“Don’t go getting your hopes up.”
For tonight’s menu, Ruby has pulled out all the stops: Pork roast with mint jelly, potatoes, cabbage salad, carrots, and applesauce. Restaurant style, Ruby dishes up from the sideboard and serves. She doesn’t have much of an appetite. Thank goodness her boys do. They are skinny as rails.
“Last supper here, you might say,” Ruby says. “First guests to The Miracle coming Tuesday, a couple from Philadelphia, a rancher’s wife and her sister, and a mother and daughter from Memphis.”
“Tennessee?” Swendsen asks.
“Virgil put a notice in every paper east of the Mississippi,” Ruby says. She smiles at her son. “‘All-inclusive resort prices.’ What is it that you said, Virgil? ‘The most attractive spa in the Southwest for Health, Pleasure, Food, and Company.’”
Sheldon whistles. “Spa?”
Virgil answers. “I wrote, ‘If you are looking to book a week, month, or season for rest and recuperation, look no further than to The Miracle, Arizona Territory’s newest resort spa.’”
“Well, what do you know. You’re a genius, Virgil,” Sheldon says. “Your ma here can charge resort prices. Pay me back faster.”
“Twenty-five dollars a week for rooms now, meals included. And liquor on the side,” Ruby says.
“Thought you said, ‘all inclusive,’” Sheldon says.
“Read it again, Virge. About the most attractive spa in the Southwest for …”
“‘… Health, Pleasure, Food, and Company.’”
“See, Sheldon. It doesn’t say anything about ‘Drink.’”
Sheldon winks at Ruby. “More for you then.”
“Money or drink?”
“Both.”
“Some might call that highway robbery,” Sheldon says.
“Hmph,” Ruby says. “I call it smart.”
“Are you worried at all about guests coming with consumption, Ruby? Like up at Acadia Ranch?” Margaret asks.
“Acadia Ranch has tent houses for lungers. If we get too many of them, we might build a row of tent houses out back. With patios, mind you. All looking at the Catalinas. Doc Swendsen could make house calls each day for an added fee, couldn’t you, Doc.”
“Good idea, Ruby,” Swendsen nods.
“Best be careful, though,” Margaret says. “And you too, Doc. This consumption is highly contagious, I hear.”
“Of course, we’ll be careful. I boil all the sheets and towels in between customers, and it’s not like we’re sharing sheets with them.”
“I’ve an idea, Ruby,” Dog says.
“And?” Ruby arches her eyebrows.
“Give you a year’s free advertising for all the dirt you’ve provided me over the years.”
“I haven’t given you any dirt!”
“The what-all that goes on at your roadhouse—”
“Inn.”
“—inn, yes. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Sold a lot of papers writing me up.”
“High time for some tit for tat. I’ll write to all the Arizona papers. You’ll need a steady clientele of locals—Tucsonans, especially—to keep you afloat in the hot months. We can tout the good Jericho air, and it’s cooler here than down Tucson way. ‘Good for whatever ails you,’ I’ll say.”
“Have I told you how much I love you, Dog?” She winks at the gruff newspaperman.
“Told you so.”
“When they taste your cooking …” Wink begins. “… and that pie, they’ll be back.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
“Fortune right under your feet here, Ruby,” Sheldon says. “Pun intended.” He turns toward Virgil. “Should think of printing up postcards, son, like The Mountain View does. Send them all over the territory. Give the Neals up in Oracle a run for their money. Your take? The Miracle is closer to Tucson by eight miles and has the newest and best amenities, not the least of which is your mother, right here. Best damn cook in Arizona Territory.”
“I like your thinking,” Ruby says. She loads up heaping portions of Ruby Pie and saves the last piece for herself. She pours a last round of coffee, sets the coffeepot on the sideboard, and snitches a piece of crust. “Time for a tour before we get any more bad news.”
Webber pushes his chair back from the table and loosens his belt. “Back to it.”
Chairs scrape away from the table and Roger noses underneath to snoop for scraps.
“Now, go on. All of you,” Ruby says. “At your own pace. Upstairs, downstairs, out back. I’ll get nightcaps.”
Sheldon brushes Ruby’s arm as he heads for the parlor. “I’m proud of you, Ruby.”
Ruby gets on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Couldn’t have done it without you, mister. Again. And I’ll pay you back, Sheldon. Every penny. Even if it kills me.”
THE NIGHT DARKENS AND GUESTS depart one by one, until it’s just Ruby, Sheldon, and Margaret on the back patio under the great canopy of stars. Sheldon’s arm is casually draped over the back of Margaret’s chair. Don’t think I don’t notice, Ruby smiles to herself. After a third nightcap, she bids Sheldon and Margaret goodnight as they leave together. Is her plan working? Even if it’s taken a damn long time? Ruby has herself to blame for that, lapsing twice over the past year—or three times, if you count the time Ruby and Sheldon met at the pools and made love on a boulder under the stars, their passion feral.
Under the full moon, Ruby thinks of Perce. If only she could take Perce by the arm and walk him around The Miracle. Show him all the improvements she’s made to the inn and the property. Oooh and aaah over the new kitchen, the icehouse, the rooms. Laugh over the fact that yes, you can put in a resort in the middle of the goddamn Arizonan desert and yes, they will come. If only things were different, Perce beside Ruby with his arm draped over her chair, casual talk, laughter. Fingers entwined on liquor-laced nights like this. And then, slow dancing under the moon, his hands on the small of her back, the promise of ecstasy. But that’s like asking a lizard to sing.
As Ruby settles beneath her covers, she takes her hand to herself. It’s damn lonely in that hole in Ruby’s heart. No warm dimple in the bed. No one to share secrets with, or laughs. No one to jabber with about who-said-what-and-when. Ruby has fought the loneliness in any way she could. She has screamed from her guts, railed, broken down in sobs to rock a rowboat. She’s gone numb with it, slapped herself into getting used to it, to learn to carry it, because, at the bottom of it, there’s no other way around it.
Ruby’s hand moves faster until she arches her back in the darkness. What does Shakespeare say about this, she thinks, this pain of love? The ache is so real she cries out, but the night doesn’t answer, it never does, does it?