Chapter One

 

 

         Unforgiven, Oklahoma, was as ugly as it was hot.

 

         There wasn't a soul in sight, but Ruby Baxter's skin prickled. Someone was watching.

 

         A gust of blistering July heat plastered her over-processed blond hair to her face. Accustomed to Missouri's lush green foliage and high humidity, she wouldn't be surprised if the panhandle's harsh sun, blowing soil and never-ending wind sucked the life right out of its Okies.

 

         She fondled the gemstone dangling from the gold chain around her neck and studied the only paved street in Unforgiven. The side alleys consisted of sparse gravel and packed dirt. The buildings to her left listed slightly—kind of like her single-wide after a fierce storm had blown through Pineville, Missouri, and almost shoved the tornado magnet off its cinder blocks.

 

         "Not much of a town, is it?" Ruby reached out to brush a strand of hair from Mia’s face, but her daughter jerked away. Lately everything she did or said made Mia angry, leaving a sick feeling in Ruby’s gut that never went away.  

 

         "Enjoy your stay, ladies." The bus driver set their bags in the dirt then the Greyhound drove off, farting black exhaust in their faces.

 

         Mia kicked a stone, sending it sailing through air where it pinged off the No-Parking sign ten yards away.

 

         This pit stop had been a bad idea. Her relationship with Mia was in shambles and the last thing Ruby needed was to lose focus on what mattered most—her daughter. There was no guarantee anything positive would result from Ruby meeting her biological father but the instant she'd opened the certified letter from a lawyer representing Hank McArthur—a man she hadn't known existed until a few weeks ago—the fresh start in Elkhart, Kansas, that she'd promised Mia had taken a detour.

 

         Hank McArthur had summoned Ruby home to her birthplace to claim her inheritance—whatever that was—and a five-hundred-dollar cashier's check had been included with the note.  Ruby glanced at her daughter. "Maybe I should have bought a used car with the cashier’s check instead of bus tickets." If Ruby had a set of wheels, they could leave this hole in the wall whenever they wanted. But she doubted a clunker would have made the four-hundred-fifty-mile trip, so she'd opted for reliable transportation—bus tickets to the Sunflower State with a layover in Unforgiven.

 

         Ruby wished she and Mia were on better terms, because she had no one to confide in about her reasons for meeting Hank McArthur. Aside from wanting medical history information, which was also important to Mia, Ruby wished to know if she shared any traits with her biological parents. After she discovered she’d been adopted, she’d fantasized that the McArthurs were important people and that she hadn’t yet lived up to her potential.

 

         That life had more in store for her than barely scraping by.

 

         "Are we just gonna stand here and look stupid?"  

 

         "Give me a minute to think." The sweltering mid-July temperature might as well have melted the heels of Ruby's cowboy boots to the blacktop, because she couldn’t have moved her feet if she'd tried. All these years she’d believed she was the biological daughter of trucker and self-taught hairstylist. Her parents had gone to their graves in a head-on car crash without ever having told her she'd been adopted.

 

         The answers to her questions were here, but what if she ended up not liking the real Ruby Baxter? Then again Mia would argue that the adopted Ruby Baxter was nothing to brag about, either.

 

         "We won't stay long," Ruby said, whether to reassure herself or Mia she

had no clue. Only two buses a week stopped in Unforgiven—Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today was Thursday. Unless they wanted to hitchhike to Kansas, they were stuck for a while.

 

         "This place is lame," Mia said.

 

         Annoyance mixed with fear crawled up Ruby's throat, but she flattened her lips, trapping the F bomb inside her mouth. It wasn't as if Mia hadn’t heard her mother swear before. F-u-c-k had been one of her daughter's first baby words. Ruby had taken her then eighteen-month-old to Dollar Island and when she'd refused to buy her a stuffed animal Mia had blurted "Fuck you, Mommy."

 

         Ruby had put the blame for that one squarely on her own shoulders. She'd been seventeen when Dylan Snyder had knocked her up. She'd expected him to do right by her. He hadn't. Rather than say I do, he came and went as he pleased—his visits ending in slamming doors and fuck yous. She should have ended things between them after Mia had been born but she’d let Dylan come and go in her life because she’d been afraid to be alone. He’d been her first bad boyfriend decision and he wouldn’t be her last.

 

         One afternoon when she'd returned home from her hostess job at Carmen's Chicken Fry, she’d found Dylan passed out naked on the bed with a condom hanging off his ding dong. Realizing he'd never be the kind of father Mia deserved, or boyfriend she deserved Ruby decided Dylan had used up his last second-chance. With great pleasure and a whole lot of satisfaction she'd planted her pointy-toed Dingo right up his lily-white ass. From then on Dylan had steered clear of the Shady Acres Mobile Home Park.

 

         "Give it a chance. The town might grow on us."  

 

         Mia snorted.

 

         At the end of the month Ruby began a new job as the night manager for the Red Roof Inn in Elkhart. The late hours wouldn't be easy but she'd be home when Mia returned from school and spending more time with her daughter was part of Ruby's plan for a fresh start.

 

         She shielded her eyes from the sun's glare and stared down the block. The ramshackle buildings looked as if they'd been abandoned during the Dust Bowl era then reclaimed years later. The wooden sidewalks and false storefronts were straight out of an Old West film set. A life-size cigar-store Indian wearing a black-and-blue war bonnet stood outside the Trading Post Mercantile. The faded outline of a Castor Lube Motor Oil emblem decorated the brick exterior of Dwayne's Billiard Hall, where a giant cue stick served as the handle on the front door. Hidden in the shadows of the pool hall sat the Possum Belly Saloon, its windows spray-painted black—either to represent the color of oil or conceal the shady dealings of its patrons.

 

         A pair of rusted antique Chevron gas pumps with their hoses ripped off baked in the sun across the street in an empty lot littered with trash and weeds. A newer station with a repair bay sat adjacent to the abandoned one. The sheriff's office was located at the end of the block, sandwiched between Panhandle Realty and Petro Oil. No bank—hopefully there was an ATM inside one of the businesses.

 

         "I don't see any place to eat unless the pool hall has a grill," Ruby said. They'd boarded the bus at six-fifteen in the morning and it was now after one o’clock.

 

         Mia motioned to a silver 1960s Airstream with Jailhouse Diner written in black cursive along the side. A handful of dusty pickups and a patrol car sat parked out front. Yellow plastic ribbons tied to the A/C unit in the window flapped in the air, reminding Ruby they stood baking in the sun. She picked up her luggage. "Let's give the diner a try."

 

         As they approached the Airstream, a Chevy truck cruised past and the driver stuck his head out the window to get a look-see at Ruby. Yeah, you think you're gonna get lucky, fella. She’d hitched enough rides with handsome rednecks to leave her with a lifetime of brief relationships.

 

         Mia waved at the drive-by cowboy.

 

         “Knock it off. He’s too old for you.” At fourteen Mia showed signs of inheriting Ruby's generous bust size. Her blossoming bosom, coupled with honey-blond curls drew attention from men who had no business looking at girls her age.

 

         A little over two months ago Ruby had walked in on her daughter and a high-school freshman naked in bed. After all of their chats about boys and sex, she’d never expected Mia to lose her virginity at such a young age. Ruby had been no saint in high school but she’d waited until she’d turned seventeen to get naked with a boy.

 

         Not that it had mattered how long Ruby had waited to pop her cherry. Everyone in Pineville knew she test drove men faster than an Indy 500 car circled a racetrack. It shouldn’t have surprised her that people would assume like mother like daughter, making Mia an easy target for boys like Kevin Walters.  The only way to give Mia a fighting chance to save her reputation was to move out of town and enroll her in a new school where her classmates wouldn’t know she’d lost her virginity in eighth grade or that her mother had a history of failed relationships.    

 

         “Maybe someone in here will tell us how to get to your grandfather's ranch."

 

         "He's not my grandfather. He's your father."

 

         Not as far as Ruby was concerned. Hank McArthur had forfeited his fatherhood rights when he'd given her away. She could have done the same with Mia after she'd been born, but she hadn't. Ruby wasn’t a perfect parent, but she loved her daughter.

 

         When they entered the Airstream, the men seated at the lunch counter—four cowboys and a lawman—spun their red-leather stools and sized them up.

 

         Ruby smoothed a hand down the front of her peach sundress and straightened the belt at her waist. The outfit hadn’t been comfortable to travel in but she’d wanted to look nice when she met Hank McArthur for the first time. Not to impress him but to show him what he’d tossed away.

 

         Before the stare-down between her and the group at the counter grew uncomfortable, the kitchen door swung open and out strolled Elvis—the Native American version. Tall and thin with a wide forehead, flat nose and tan skin, he wore jeans cuffed to the ankles and his black T-shirt sported an image of the infamous icon. One rolled sleeve held a pack of cigarettes and he'd combed his jet-black hair into the famous pompadour style complete with wet locks falling onto his forehead and mutton-chop sideburns.

 

         "You ladies lost 'n' looking for directions or are you here to eat?" he asked.

 

         Aware the men at the counter continued to eyeball them, Ruby said, "We're eating."

 

         "Seat yourselves."

 

         Mia picked the booth near the air conditioner and they shoved their bags beneath the table.

 

         "What's up with that guy's hair?" Mia whispered.

 

         "He's impersonating a singer from the '50s."

 

         "Weird." Mia popped her chewing gum while she perused the menu.

 

         The diner walls were plastered with Elvis memorabilia—a framed TV Guide, an artist's rendition of Graceland, album covers, signed posters, movie photographs and a display case filled with Elvis bobble-head dolls. The black-and-white checkered linoleum floor was covered in scuff marks, and the old-fashioned jukebox gave the motor home a teenage malt-shop feel. The place stuck out like a sore thumb in the spaghetti-western town.

 

         "I'm ordering dessert and a soda pop." Mia glared defiantly and tapped a neon-green fingernail against the sparkly tabletop.

 

         "Go ahead." Ruby had to pick her battles with Mia and keeping her daughter from turning into a slut trumped concern over a poor diet. Mia dug out her iPod and stuck in the ear buds. Ruby wished Mia understood that the choices she made now would impact her for the rest of her life.

 

         After Mia had had sex with Kevin, Ruby had forbidden her from seeing the boy. She’d considered speaking with Kevin’s father, but Biggs Walters was an unemployed alcoholic who had nothing good to say to anyone—especially women—after his wife had left him a year earlier.

 

         Ruby had resorted to one of her lectures on the dangers and consequences of having sex at such a young age, but Mia had shut her out and would never say why she’d slept with Kevin.

 

         If there was one upside to Mia’s rebellion, the timing couldn’t have worked out better for a move. Ruby had split with her boyfriend a week before catching Mia and Kevin in the act. She and Sean had been together nine months—the longest she'd lived with a guy before handing him his eviction notice.

 

         A month earlier Ruby began growing uneasy when Sean ignored several of her text messages. She’d feared that he was losing interest in her and with each passing day she’d become more anxious. Then one night he hadn’t come home—his reason: he’d stayed at a buddy’s house after drinking too many beers. Ruby didn’t buy it and had asked him to move out. Sean had begged and pleaded with her not to break up with him, insisting he hadn’t done anything wrong. That the reason he hadn’t returned her texts had been because the guys at work had made fun of him for having to answer to her for everything he did. Ruby wanted to believe Sean but if she let him stay, his buddies at work would keep badgering him until they’d convinced Sean he could do better than Ruby. So she’d stood her ground, insisting he pack his bags and vamoose. She’d barely caught her breath after he’d left before Mia had blindsided her.

 

         Elvis delivered glasses of water to their table and Mia removed her ear buds. "Everyone 'round here calls me Jimmy," he said. "Or you can use my Osage name, Ha-Pah-Shu-Tse. Means red corn." He flashed a gold-toothed smile.

 

         "Is that real?" Mia asked.

 

         "Solid gold." He dipped his head toward Ruby. "We don't get many women passing through Unforgiven. Where're you ladies headed?"

 

         "Kansas. I'm Ruby Baxter and this is my daughter, Mia. We stopped in town to visit Hank McArthur."

 

         "He's my mom's real dad."

 

         Ruby shot Mia a stern look. She knew not to tell strangers their personal business. "Is the Devil's Wind Ranch nearby?"

 

         "West of here. 'Bout a half hour by car."

 

         Ruby should phone Hank and warn him that she'd arrived, but the call could wait until after lunch.

 

         Coward. Okay, she was delaying the inevitable. So what? It wasn't like she had places to go and things to do the rest of the day. "I didn't notice any motels in the area."

 

         "If you want a room, you'll have to go to Guymon." Jimmy pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I got a pop-up trailer out back you can sleep in for twenty bucks a night. I'll let you use the bathroom in here before I open in the mornings."

 

         Ruby ignored Mia’s groan. "We might take you up on the offer." If Hank turned out to be a schmuck, they'd bunk down in The King’s trailer while they waited for the next bus out of town.

 

         The diner door opened and in walked a pair of dusty jeans, a faded red Oklahoma Sooner's T-shirt and matching baseball cap. The newcomer glanced Ruby's way, startling her with his empty brown-eyed stare. He nodded, although it sure didn’t seem like he saw her, and then walked up to the counter, choosing the stool farthest from the others.

 

         "This is your lucky day," Jimmy said. "You might be able to hitch a ride to the Devil's Wind with Joe."

 

         "Joe?" Ruby asked.

 

         Jimmy nodded to the man with the vacant gaze. "Joe Dawson. He's the foreman of the ranch."