Dark Reflection

Chapter 47

"Chicken Bristle"

by Lilyjack

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"…Chicken Bristle…." A slow smile spread across Ruby's face as she spoke. "Chicken Bristle, Kentucky."

"Chicken Bristle?" Chester chuckled in disbelief. "Aw…yer pullin' my leg, Miss Ruby."

"Nope, I be tellin' you the gospel truth. It a little bitty town with jes' black folks. Freedmens wantin' t' start a new life."

"Is that a fact? Well, I'll be." Chester scratched his head in wonder and shifted his weight in the chair. He'd been sitting there for a considerable time having an enjoyable conversation with Miss Ruby, and his legs were gettin' stiff. Well, one of his legs was always stiff, but it felt a mite stiffer than usual. He inquired, "Did ya' live there yer whole life?"

"Oh, no," she responded. "My mama, she brung me there when I was a little girl. Mama had a new man, and I guess I was jes' in her way. Left me with my granny. Other folks, they call her Pearlie Mae, but I call her Mama Mooney."

Chester curiously questioned, "Mooney?"

"Yeah, Chester, that my real name."

"You mean t' say, Ruby Moon ain't yer real name?"

"Nuh-uh. I changed it a little bit."

"What is yer real name?"

"Now, I ain't a' gonna tell you, Chester. I don't want ever'body in these parts knowin' my real name. 'Ruby Moon', that a bid'ness name."

"Well, Miss Ruby, I won't tell nobody. Yer real name, that ain't none a' their…uh, bizness, so t' speak." A pleased grin spread across his features at his own cleverness.

She secretively smiled back. "You promise?"

"Cross m' heart."

"I think about it." She raised a dark brow at him and the corner of her mouth turned up.

Chester pressed his lips together. "Well, alright, Miss Ruby…" But then his forehead furrowed as he recalled, "But, yer mama, she just up and left ya' with yer granny? That's awful, Miss Ruby. Didn't ya' miss yer mama?"

"Some." She looked at Chester, recognized the genuine sympathy in his dark eyes. "But she didn't care 'bout me too much, else she wouldn't a' left me like that."

"I'm sure she cared about ya', Ruby. Least she left ya' with somebody she knew'd take good care of ya'."

"Yeah, least she did that. I didn't stay in Chicken Bristle too awful long. Folks there didn't like me much. They knew my mama was no count. I guess they figgered I was the same."

"Now, Miss Ruby, how on earth could a body not like you? Why, yer s' nice…and purty…and brave. Why, both you and Miss Kitty are 'bout the bravest people I ever did meet."

Ruby's eyes glowed at the compliment. She liked being mentioned in the same breath as Kitty Russell. That red-haired, white woman was a fighter. She didn't take no guff off nobody, no how. "Thank ya', Chester. I think you're purty nice ya'self."

"Aww…" Chester blushed. "See there? Yer bein' nice all over agin."

A spontaneous giggle escaped Ruby's lips. She declared, "You make me laugh, Chester Goode."

Ruby Moon beamed at him, and the sight took Chester's breath away. Her features were transformed in that instant somehow. Even with all the bruises and scrapes, he was gazing at a lovely, kind, sweet young girl, not the world-weary woman he saw working down at the Long Branch every night. It made his chest ache to think of her working there now. Chester shifted in his seat again, moved his stiff leg in the opposite direction.

"Do it hurt?" she questioned softly.

"What?" Chester asked.

"Your leg. Do it hurt?"

"Aw, well…" He curled his lip, and his first thought was to deflect her question. Discussion of his infirmity made Chester uncomfortable—he'd been made fun of his entire life because of it. But Miss Ruby seemed so earnest - truly concerned, not just curious. He conceded, "Well, it does pain me a little sometimes."

"You born thataway?"

Chester blanched. He wasn't used to telling this story. Not too many people knew the tale because he always avoided speaking of it. But Ruby had shared her childhood sorrow with him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt for him to share his.

"Naw, I wasn't born this way." Chester stared up at the ceiling so he wouldn't have to look into her sympathetic eyes while he opened up his heart. "My pa, he, uh…he drank a lot, see…and one day, well, he got mad as fire at me for some reason or t'other." Chester tensely ran his fingers through his dark hair, thinking back on the incident that would shape his future. "Well, Pa, he grabbed up the first thang that he could get aholt of." Chester stopped. He hadn't spoken of this in so long. It was hard to find the words, to share his shameful secret.

"What he hit you with, Chester?" Ruby's eyes glistened with tears.

"A fireplace poker. Busted m' knee up purty bad. And we was s'poor, we couldn't afford no doctor. My ma, she done the best she could. But I reckon it healed funny cause I ain't been able t' bend it since. Folks always called me a cripple after that…" He ducked his head. "…laughed at me. Lots of 'em thought I musta been simple-minded, too, just cause I walked funny. I couldn't hardly git a job t' even put food in my mouth." Chester silently shook his head and finally looked at Ruby straight on. "Why, Miss Kitty and Mister Dillon, they was the first ones that believed I was worth a plug nickel."

"But you ain't never let it hold ya' back none, have ya', Chester? I see you a' doin' things no cripple could do." Ruby reached to grasp his hand and hold it tight. "And you is plenty smart." Her eyes narrowed intensely as she gazed at him. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper as she resolutely reminded him, "You most prob'ly saved my life, Chester Goode." The beautiful young mulatto woman fervently avowed, "I think you worth more'n a plug nickel, too. Don't you let nobody tell you any differ'nt, you hear?"

Chester's face lit up as he squeezed Ruby's hand in return.

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Matt dropped the saddlebags by the creekbank and loped over to where Kitty kneeled, splashing her lead-stained hands in the cool water.

"Here ya' go," Matt offered, handing her a cake of lye soap. This oughta help some."

"Thanks, Matt." She dunked the soap into the water and began scrubbing in earnest. "Never realized shootin' a gun was such dirty business until lately."

"Guns are dirty business in more ways than one," Matt sighed. He lowered himself to one knee beside her and wet his hands. She passed him the soap, and his fingers lingered on her slippery skin, savoring the contact.

She looked at him closely, blue eyes large and expressive. He noticed her day in the sun had made more freckles emerge across her nose—they were small and sweet and amber-colored against her white skin, her cheeks rosy with the heat.

Matt realized with a start that he was staring at her, and hastily offered, "Here, let me help you…" Untying his bandana from around his neck, he dunked it in the water, squeezed it out and touched a corner of it to the soap. "Be still for a minute…" He placed a hand under her chin and dabbed the cloth on her cheek where there was a black smudge.

"I even got it on my face?" She wryly curled her lip and laughed.

"Yep. Be still. Just a little more." He gently scrubbed the bridge of her nose and then her forehead. He admitted, "I imagine I've got it on my face, too."

"Right there," she pointed. "Here…gimme that."

Matt jutted out his chin and offered her his jaw so she could wash off the offending black marks. He advised, "Rinse it off real good in clear water. Lye will burn you, especially if ya' get out in the sun."

They both hunched over the edge of the creek bed, cupping water in their hands, appreciatively splashing it onto their newly clean faces.

Matt raised up, watching her splash more water onto the back of her heated neck, her throat, the small, intriguing area of visible skin where her shirt was unbuttoned.

She stopped when she realized he was observing her. "I'm burning up. Aren't you?" She raked her sleeve over her dripping face, smoothed back the tendrils of damp hair stuck to her skin. "This water is so pure and fresh. You miss that, bein' in town all the time."

"Yeah," he murmured with more than a hint of distraction. "That's another reason I like it out here."

They were so close together - just a breath apart. Her face was dewy, and her luminous eyes were bright. Matt couldn't fight the irresistible urge - his heart in his throat, he leaned forward, brushed his warm, generous mouth over her damp, peach-ripe lips, glowing from their morning in the sun. It was a featherlight kiss, impossibly tender and remarkably brief, and it was already over by the time she emitted an inaudible little gasp. He hadn't wanted to frighten her, but neither could he resist her.

She looked so surprised - he hastily looked down at the hand he had clasped on his knee and self-consciously cleared his throat. "Whatta ya' say we go have that lunch now?"

She murmured quietly, "Okay, Matt…"

tbc

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