Roz Denny Fox by Precious Gifts Page A

once-prosperous mining town that had been abandoned for nearly three decades. Its location discouraged all but the most avid ghost-town enthusiasts. Along with other local boys, Jake and Dillon had loved exploring the old buildings, which were still in surprisingly good condition. The mine, originally named Montana Camp, had at one time yielded lead, silver, gold, zinc and copper. Somehow, shortly after Arizona received its state-hood, the town’s name had changed. According to the story Jake had heard, the owner of the general store and post office had named it after his wife. Currently the town was privately owned. Jake knew the owners hoped to restore Ruby and open it to tourists. But area residents liked the tranquillity its anonymity afforded them. Locals, and Jake included himself, would be happy to see Ruby maintain its status quo.
    Ted Mortimer’s house overlooked the remains of Ruby. He’d quit ranching after his wife died, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the old homestead.
    It was time for lunch, and Jake always preferred sharing a meal to eating alone. Besides, catching Ted up on area events would take Jake’s mind off Hayley Ryan. He’d meant to forget her after he left her camp. So far it hadn’t happened. Visions of her intruded on him all too frequently. He found his mind wandering in her direction when he should have been paying attention to business.
    “Yo, the house,” Jake called, sliding out of the saddle.
    A man appeared from behind a clapboard house. “Well, bless my bones, Jacob. Welcome.” He grasped Jake’s right hand and squeezed it hard. “Hope you have time to sit a spell. It’s been a while since anybody stopped by.”
    “Isn’t Pima College still running field trips to Ruby?”
    “Yeah, but them professors and kids have got their own agenda. Between you and me, I think they pity me.”
    “Pity you? Why?” Jake loosened Paprika’s cinch, dropped the saddle on the porch and led the mare to a metal tub brimming with water. Shading his eyes, he gazed over the rolling hills, taking in a hawk soaring against the cloudless sky.
    “I get the feeling all those folks from town believe I’m an outcast forced to reside next to a ghost town as punishment.”
    Jake laughed and followed the man to a shaded side of the porch, where he helped himself to a seat on the soft cushions of a swing glider. “’Course, you don’t set ’em straight, do you?”
    “You’ve got my number, boy. But I don’t lie. I tell them this is the closest a man gets to paradise without dying. Still, that don’t mean I’m a recluse. I hope you’ve got time for a glass of lemonade and a corned-beef sandwich.”
    Leaning back, Jake swept off his hat. “You know my weakness for corned beef. And lemonade would go down easy. Anything I can do to help?”
    “It’s ready. I saw you cross over the loop a couple hours ago. You’re right on schedule.” The man’s words were cut off by the bang of a screen door as he went inside. He emerged from the house moments later with a tray of glasses, thick sandwiches on homemade bread and a frosty pitcher of lemonade. Silence settled comfortably around them as the men dug into their lunch. Suddenly the one-time rancher wiped his mouth and said, sounding miffed, “When you see Ben O’Dell next, tell him I’m plenty p.o.’d that he flew past here without bothering to stop by and say howdy. He must be getting close to bringing in a payload to be in such an all-fired hurry.”
    The corned beef stuck in Jake’s throat. When he finally managed to swallow it, he took a big swig of lemonade. “Ben died,” he said, rubbing idly at the moisture beading the outside of the glass. “That was Ben’s granddaughter you saw driving his rig. The girl’s filed to work his claim.”
    “A girl miner? Well, don’t that beat all!”
    Jake saw Hayley Ryan as she’d looked in the early-morning light. “I should have said woman,” he corrected himself. “I don’t know her