The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness (9 page)

Clara set her bread aside and brushed the crumbs off her dress. “I think we need to have an official-like meetin' of The Princess Club. Right here and now. We need to take a vote.”

Ruby Mae sat up. “Vote on what?”

“On givin' back the gold,” Clara whispered harshly. “What do you think? All for it, raise your hands.”

Bessie's hand shot into the air. So did Clara's.

Ruby Mae couldn't believe her eyes. “Are you crazy? What about your education? What about your frilly dresses? Have you forgotten all our plans?”

“Don't matter havin' plans,” Clara said, “if you got no friends to share them with.”

“Besides,” Bessie added, “I'm tired of all the fussin' and feudin'. Like with my pa and your pa. Craziness, all of it.” She gave an embarrassed smile. “And to tell you the truth, it just don't feel right, spendin' money that ain't rightfully ours. Even if we haven't
really
spent any of it yet.”

“But . . .” Ruby Mae threw up her hands in exasperation. “What's got into you two? Some silly story about a flute, and all of a sudden you want to give up your future? We all agreed that if'n the money was Mr. Halliday's, he shoulda owned up to it.”

Bessie and Clara just stared at her blankly. “We took a vote, Ruby Mae,” Clara said. “Fair and square.”

“All right, then,” Ruby Mae said. “How about this? How about we give it a day to sink in? You know, think about it longer. You love to think about things, Clara. You can fret over this for another day for sure. Then, we'll vote again tomorrow. And whatever the club decides, that's what we'll do.”

Clara chewed on a thumbnail. “Well, I s'pose one more day wouldn't hurt. But that's all.”

“Deal?” Ruby Mae turned to Bessie.

“I don't have to think any more on it, do I?” Bessie asked. “My head already hurts from all this frettin'.”

“No, Bessie. You don't have to.” Ruby Mae stood, arms crossed over her chest. “Then we're decided. Tomorrow we vote. Till then, no matter what, the gold's still ours.”

Sixteen

M
ay I be excused?” Ruby Mae asked at dinner that evening.

“I suppose,” Christy said. “But you barely touched your chicken.”

“Just ain't hungry, I reckon. It was fine chicken, though, Miss Ida.”

“I'll second that,” Mr. Halliday said heartily.

“As a matter of fact,” the preacher said, “I'll eat that last piece on your plate, Ruby Mae. Unless you'd like it, Mr. Halliday.”

“All yours, Reverend. Eat any more, and I'll burst.”

Ruby Mae pushed back her chair and carried her dishes to the sink in the kitchen. She slipped upstairs without a sound.

At the top of the stairs, she paused in front of Miz Christy's room. Her heart was hammering inside her chest.

All afternoon, she'd known she was going to end up in this spot. But now that she was really here, she wasn't sure if she should go through with her plan.

Downstairs, the grownups were laughing and talking. Mr. Halliday had spent the whole dinner talking about his trips to faraway places. He'd even told them how he'd had dinner at the White House after he took the President's photograph. A fine meal, he'd said, but not as fine as Miss Ida's fried chicken.

The more he had talked, the more Ruby Mae had realized he didn't need the gold, even if it
was
really his. He was a man with a camera and a fancy catalog and lots of white handkerchiefs and a gold pocket watch. What did a little gold matter to him? If he needed more money, he could always take more pictures of fancy people.

With trembling fingers, Ruby Mae eased open Miz Christy's door and slipped into her bedroom. The setting sun had turned everything golden. The room smelled of lilac talcum powder, the way Miz Christy always did. Unlike Ruby Mae's room, everything was in its place, neat as a pin.

On the dresser was a picture of Miz Christy's family, smiling at the camera. Ruby Mae looked at it. Even though she'd seen it a hundred times before, tears suddenly spilled down her cheeks.

Miz Christy had a happy family. So did Bessie and Clara.

They could talk all they wanted about silver flutes and such, but the gold meant far more to Ruby Mae. She didn't have anyone she could really depend on. She
didn't have the kind of family they did.

Sure, she'd talked about horses and mansions and dozens of kids. But what she truly wanted was a way to feel safe. What if Miss Alice and the preacher decided they couldn't let her stay at the mission any longer? What if her pa and ma wouldn't take her back in? Her pa had kicked her out once already. Where would she go then?

Ruby Mae wanted this gold. She wanted it just the way Mountie wanted that silly doll. Only worse.

She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She hated all this thinking. How did Clara stand it?

Taking a deep breath, Ruby Mae ran over to Miz Christy's bed, slipped her hand under the mattress, and found the trunk key. It took two tries to get it open, but finally the lock clicked.

Carefully, Ruby Mae opened the wooden jewelry box. There it was. Hope.

She scooped up all the nuggets and put them in her pocket. Her hands were shaking like leaves in the wind. Just as she started to lock the trunk, she heard voices on the stairway.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Leaving the key in the lock, Ruby Mae slid under Miz Christy's bed just as the door opened.

Miz Christy took another step, and another. Ruby Mae could see her teacher's shoes. They were close enough to touch. She feared she would scream from the awful waiting.

“That's funny,” Miz Christy murmured. “I could have sworn I heard something.”

“Coming?” the preacher called from downstairs.

“Just a minute, David. I'm getting my shawl. It's cool tonight.”

Step. Step. Ruby Mae heard a drawer slide open. Step. Step. Step.

The door closed.

For the first time in what seemed like hours, Ruby Mae took a calming breath. She waited under the bed a long time, until, through the window, she heard the sound of Miz Christy and the preacher talking outside in the yard.

Ruby Mae eased her way out from under the bed. Her pocket bulged. There was something she needed to do, but what? Her head was still buzzing with fear.

Find a place to hide her gold, maybe that was it. Somewhere in her room where no one, not even nosy Miss Ida, would ever find it. Stuffed deep in her feather pillow, maybe.

Ruby Mae went to the door and peeked outside. It was safe.

She headed for her room, whistling softly.

A tune as pretty, she thought, as anything you might hear on a silver flute.

That night, Christy couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the full moon, lighting up the room. Or maybe it was the fact that David had thought he'd heard noises that evening around the mission house. He and Mr. Halliday had done a thorough search and hadn't found a thing, but still, it was hard to relax with the gold right here in her room.

It was a relief to know that Mr. Halliday was staying here. And David was in his bunkhouse, close enough to come if help were needed.

She went to the window and listened. Crickets thrummed noisily. A branch cracked. An owl hooted, soft and low:
HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOOO.

Nothing. She was just jumpy. She closed her window and returned to bed. But as she pulled the sheets over her, something glimmering in the moonlight caught her eye.

Her key. The key to her trunk.

For a brief moment, she thought maybe she'd left it in the trunk latch by accident. But no, she distinctly remembered putting it under the mattress.

Christy rushed over to the trunk and opened it. The jewelry box was in its usual place. But when she opened it, just as she'd feared, the gold was gone. Not a nugget was left.

With a sigh, Christy sat on her bed, clutching the key. Who knew about the key? Miss Alice, David, Neil, Miss Ida.

And Ruby Mae.

No. She couldn't let herself think that way. Ruby Mae wouldn't, she couldn't . . .

Perhaps someone else had found out about the trunk. Rummaged through her room. Found the key.

But Miss Ida was almost always here. It didn't seem very likely.

Still, the alternative was more than Christy could bear to think about.

With a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, Christy tiptoed to Ruby Mae's room. Gently she knocked on the door. When there was no answer, Christy eased it open a few inches.

Ruby Mae lay there asleep, snoring lightly. Asleep like this, she had the face of an angel.

Christy closed the door. She was going to try to remember that angelic face. And she was going to try very hard to think of some other way the gold might have disappeared.

Seventeen

P
enny for your thoughts.”

Christy looked up in surprise. Neil was standing in the doorway of the classroom, holding another bouquet of violets.

He handed them to her. “Not wilted this time. I'm improving.”

“Thank you, Neil. They're lovely.”

He leaned on the edge of her desk. “You looked about a million miles away just now.”

“I was. I let school out half an hour ago, and I've been sitting here ever since.”

“No problems with Lundy, I hope,” he said, clearly worried.

“No. He hasn't shown up for school since the incident at the creek. From what I understand, he's probably out prospecting. A lot of the children are.”

“What is it, then?” Neil touched her hand tenderly.

“It's the gold. It's been stolen. Right out of my trunk.”

“That's all we need. Any suspects?”

“I'm afraid the most likely one has very red, very curly hair.” Christy rubbed her eyes. “I told Ruby Mae and Bessie and Clara today about the missing gold. Clara and Bessie almost seemed relieved, believe it or not. I think the pressure was getting to them. But Ruby Mae . . . well, she didn't even blink. She was just a little
too
calm.”

“Maybe she didn't take it.”

“Maybe. But I can't see who else could have.”

“Give her some time. Maybe she'll ‘'fess up' all on her own.”

Christy went to the blackboard and started to erase the day's work. “Who'd have ever dreamed a handful of rocks could be so much trouble?”

“That's what they said in 1849 in California.”

“Well, we're having our own Gold Rush of 1912.” She sighed. “What am I going to do, Neil?”

He gave her a hug. “Pass me an eraser,” he said.

“This here,” Clara said that same afternoon, “is the last official meeting of The Princess Club. What with us not being princesses no more.”

Ruby Mae sat on a bale of hay near the stable. The three girls had already fed Prince, Old Theo, Goldie, and Clancy. Now they were watching the animals munch contently on fresh grain and hay.

“Clancy looks to be gettin' much better,” Ruby Mae said. “I wonder if'n Mr. Halliday will be movin' on soon. You think?”

“Ruby Mae!” Bessie cried. “You
sure are takin' the news about the gold awful well. We ain't princesses anymore. Don't that bother you?”

“Sure it bothers me,” Ruby Mae said quickly. “But ain't nothin' we can do about it.”

“Still,” Clara pressed, “don't you wonder who took it? Right out from under Miz Christy's nose like that? Who coulda done such a thing?”

Ruby Mae stroked Prince's warm, silky coat. She could feel her face heating up. Was Clara looking at her funny? Or was Ruby Mae's guilt getting the better of her?

“Anybody could have sneaked into the mission house,” she said. “Ain't like it's locked up or nothin'.”

“Still, they would have had to know where to look,” Clara persisted.

“Easy enough to figure out where it was hidden,” Ruby Mae pointed out. “There's only one thing with a lock on it in that whole house.”

“But then they had to find the key,” Bessie added.

“What does it matter?” Ruby Mae blurted. “Me, I'm plumb tuckered out, talking about that gold. If'n we ain't goin' to be princesses no more, let's just start actin' like plain ol' regular people!”

“Ruby Mae!” Bessie grabbed her by the arm. “Hush! Look, over yonder!”

Bessie pointed a trembling finger at a stand of nearby trees. There stood Lundy Taylor. In the crook of his arm was a long hunting rifle.

Bessie gulped. “H-he's got himself a gun!”

“Don't pay him no never mind,” Ruby Mae said. “He's probably just out huntin' squirrels.”

Suddenly, as quickly as he'd appeared, Lundy vanished into the woods.

“See?” Ruby Mae said. “Don't mean nothin'.”

“Still and all,” Bessie said, breathing a sigh of relief, “I'm just as glad to be rid of that gold. I didn't need the likes of Lundy after me the rest of my days!”

“Yep,” Ruby Mae said, frowning. “I s'pose maybe you're right about that.”

I thought I'd reached Ruby Mae.

Christy wrote in her diary that night. She paused, pen in hand, when she heard a howl coming from far off on the mountain. The woods were full of noises tonight. Even more than usual.

She turned to a fresh page.

Neil says to give it time, but how much time can I give it? Mr. Halliday will be leaving soon, and I'm more convinced than ever that the gold is his. But if I push Ruby Mae, I'm afraid she'll deny what I'm all too certain is the truth: she took the gold. I suppose all I can do is pray. Perhaps the answer will come to me if I am patient.

When she finally set her diary aside and tried to sleep, Christy tossed and turned, just as she had the previous night. Every now and then she awoke to a sound from the outside. But eventually, she somehow managed to fall asleep again.

Her dreams were full of flutes made of silver and red-haired angels . . . There was something cold in her dreams, too, something cold, pressed against her temple. There were people with her, but these weren't red-haired angels anymore. These people were dangerous. These people meant her harm . . .