Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (22 page)

“I tell you what: Let me get the shelf, then once your books arrive and you’ve had an opportunity to enjoy them again, we can add a book or two each time we go to town.” Pleased with the tactful way he’d reined in her enthusiasm, Josh handed back the list.

Face puckered in confusion, Ruth accepted the pages.

“Do you want me to whitewash the shelf to match your room?”

“My room?!”

“Where else would you put it?”

“Why, in the library, of course! What did you think I was talking about?”

“What library?” Laney took the words right out of his mouth. She and he both looked to Ruth for an explanation.

“The lending library I’m going to start for the town.”

“Back up a minute here.” Josh snatched back the list. He immediately rolled up the pages, stuffed them in his shirt pocket so she couldn’t reclaim them, and folded his arms across his chest.

“Surely you didn’t think I wanted to buy all of those books only to hoard them to myself. That would be horrendously selfish of me.”

Hadn’t she heard what Dad just said about the Broken P? Three years of hard work pulled it out of the red and into the black. Almost every penny got poured back into the place—building this house, buying better breeding stock. The only extravagance had been Laney’s two years at finishing school—and that rated as a necessity because it was one of their mother’s wishes for Laney.

“If there isn’t a storefront available—”

“There’s not going to be a library.” He gave Ruth a stern look.

“Oh, don’t react so, Josh. As I was going to say, if there’s no storefront, we can just hire someone to build to our specifications. That might be best.”

Laney got to her feet. “You’re really serious about this.”

“It’s always nice to have dreams and aspirations,” Josh said, “but they can’t always be realized into being. Even if they are, it takes a lot to make them happen.”
A lot of money we can’t spare
.

“You underestimate me, Josh. I can do this. I prayed last night, and everything just fell into place. Hard work doesn’t bother me.

When I started thinking about it, I realized there are undoubtedly other adults who would like to participate in reading lessons. I could go in twice a week.”

“There’s no other way for me to say it, so I’m going to come right on out and put it on the line.”

“Please do.”

“No library. Do you understand me? It’s not going to happen. No one can take time away to escort you to and from town a couple times a week, and that’s just the start of the problems.”

“I even thought of having an upstairs where I could live.”

“Ruth, no!” Distraught, Laney grabbed Ruth’s sleeve. “You belong here.”

“Maybe I don’t. A lot depends on what the courts decide about my father’s will.”

“I don’t care about that old will,” Laney declared. “Alan was your daddy. You deserve to stay here, regardless of whether or not you end up inheriting a single inch of the property. Isn’t that right, Josh?”

Wishing Laney hadn’t put him on the spot like that, Josh unfolded his arms, then promptly crammed his hands in his pockets. “Ruth is welcome to live here. As for this library or anything else—it’s premature to make any decisions.”

“Not necessarily,” Ruth said. “There’s nothing wrong with my putting my plan into motion and—”

“And you’d be counting your chickens before they hatch,” he cut in. Josh strode out of the parlor, to the front door, and resisted the temptation to bang it shut.

“What was that about?” McCain asked as he puffed on his cigar.

“Ruth.” That one word summed up the problem in total.

“Oh?”

“I may as well fill you in on her latest scheme.”

“She’s not talking about organizing a suffragette march in town, is she?”

“No.”

Dad chuckled. “Then whatever it is, it can’t be half as hard to squelch. The gal has an iron will and an overabundance of energy.”

“She’s taken a mind to start up a town library.” Josh watched his father’s reaction.

“I trust you convinced her it’s preposterous?” Dad blew out a cloud of smoke. “I just told her the ranch is on a tight budget. There’s no way we could begin to fund such a thing.”

“She asked for my suggestions on what books to acquire and gave me a list of three hundred twenty-three she—”

Dad choked, then coughed. “Three hundred!”

Josh nodded. “And twenty-three. During the conversation, she thought of another to add on. Given a day or so, we could easily see her list triple in size.”

“We’ve got to put an end to this.”

“Considering it’s Ruth we’re dealing with, that’s easier said than done.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Galen walked toward the stable. The air carried a decided nip, but he’d work up some heat in no time as he mucked out the stalls.

“Wait up!” Colin hastened out of the house.

Galen paused. He’d wanted to let his brother sleep in today. He’d stayed up late last night reading the Bible to Da. Colin’s cocky smile made Galen decide to hold his tongue. His brother was doing his best to show maturity and responsibility—both qualities he’d sorely need, and soon. Might as well let him do it as quickly as he could.

He waited until Colin drew up, then gave him a brotherly slap on the shoulder and nodded his approval. “Bet we can get plenty done before breakfast.”

“Yep.” Colin started to roll up his sleeves. Half an hour later, Colin leaned on his shovel. “Galen?”

“Huh?”

“The Pony’s not coming through. Hasn’t for days now.”

“No, it hasn’t. Service is temporarily interrupted.”

“That’s what I hear, but I’m wondering if those are just fancy words for their saying that the company is quitting.”

“I doubt it. They invested too much to give up.”

“I guess you have a point. What if they do, though? What happens to the horses?”

“They’re property of the Central Overland California and Pike’s Peak Express. Russell, Majors, and Waddell would decide what to do with them.” Galen looked at Colin. Since all three of his little brothers now had a horse of their own to ride, the questions took him by surprise. Sure, if the three of them had all still been sharing one horse, it would make sense. “What’s with all the questions?”

“So do they still pay for us to maintain the mounts, even when the delivery’s not coming through?”

“I can’t honestly answer that. Hasn’t come time for them to settle the monthly account. By all rights, they should. Horses still have to be fed, watered, mucked after, and babied.”

Colin nodded. “That’s what I thought, too.” He worked another couple of minutes, then stopped. “I don’t know how money is, but I was thinking it would be good to have the money from the Express saved to pay Doc.”

“We’ll make do, regardless.” Galen set aside his shovel and moved toward his brother. “Our heavenly Father will provide and take care of us.”

Colin’s chin lifted. “Is that your way of telling me I’m not going to have a father here much longer?”

Galen slowly settled his hand on his brother’s shoulder. He stared him in the eye and let out a sigh. “Aye, Colin. That’s exactly what we’re facing.”

“I feared ’twas so.” Colin’s eyes filled up.

Galen pulled him into a hug and held him tightly. His frame was still that of a skinny youth—his thin shoulders not yet ready to bear the burdens that lay ahead. Resting his temple against Colin’s unruly russet mop, Galen allowed himself the luxury of tears. After a while, he roughly patted Colin’s shuddering back. “There’s no shame in loving, and I’ll have you remember Jesus himself wept when Lazarus died. ’Tis a mark of the respect we hold for Da, but this sadness—I’m thinking it’s best if we keep it between ourselves. We need to be strong for Ma.”

“And Dale and Sean,” Colin said as he wiped his face.

Galen nodded. “You and I—we’ll have to be the men in the family and stand as sound examples for Dale and Sean. You’ll be shedding your youth and becoming a man before your time.”

“When do you reckon the boys ought be told?”

“Ma and Da and I discussed it the other day. They’re of the opinion that the boys’ll ask questions when they’re good and ready for the truth. Until then, we’ll not tell them the facts—but we’ll not lie, either.”

“So you were waiting for me to ask?” Colin’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“Nay, Colin. You and I—we may have years between us, but we’ve never let that make a difference. I’ve not kept secrets from you. I owed you this knowledge, but finding the right time to impart it—well, that’s been hard.”

“You’ve been working two men’s jobs.” Colin straightened his shoulders. “But no more. I’ll step up.”

“I knew you would.” It wasn’t hard to sound confident. Galen knew Colin had a strong streak of determination in his constitution. “Now let’s finish up here. I’m getting hungry.”

“I’m hungry, too,” Dale said from the barn door. “Ma’s put the biscuits in the oven, so she’s telling me I’m slow this morning.”

“Then you’d best get to milking.” Galen winked at Colin, then called after Dale, “and no giving the cats a squirt or two. I spied a couple of mice this morning, so I want the tabbies hungry.”

“All right,” Dale called back. A minute later, he stuck his head around the edge of the stall. “Galen, how didja know—about the cats?”

Galen grinned. “Ah, Dale. Once upon a time, milkin’ was my chore. The cats surely liked me a lot back then.”

“Oh.” Dale and Colin both started to laugh.

Their laughter warmed Galen’s heart. After breakfast, as he sent his brothers off to school, he overheard Dale telling Sean all about it. All three of them left toward town, each on his own horse, with a few schoolbooks buckled tight in a leather book strap and fastened to the saddle along with a lunch bucket.

Just as he’d promised, Josh had given the O’Sullivans his old saddle, and Da told Colin to use his, but that had still left them one short. Galen didn’t know where the third saddle came from. A couple days after he bought the pair of mustangs, he’d been out in the fields. When he came back in, that other saddle was sitting in the middle of the barn floor.

He had a sneaking suspicion Josh had plenty to do with it. If Josh wanted to play the game that way, fine. Come harvesttime, sacks of nuts and bushels of fruit would mysteriously show up on the McCain porch.

These past days had been odd. Galen hadn’t realized how he’d planned his days to fit around the Pony relays. Each morning, he’d plot out what to do and where to be in accordance with when a rider might be through. Today, he didn’t need to conform to that. He hadn’t for a little while, and it left him strangely adrift. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have plenty to fill his hours, because he did. It was just that he’d been timing his days by that event.

Now that Da wasn’t doing so well, Galen also planned his days around whether the gals were coming over from the Broken P. If they came, he knew Ma would have help or that she could send Ruth to fetch him. Bless her gentle and wise heart, on the rare occasions when she needed his help, Ma never sent Laney to summon him. At breakfast, Ma mentioned that the lasses were going to help her in the garden today. Keeping that in mind, Galen planned to do chores that would keep him close to the house.

In another week, when the boys were out of school, this wouldn’t be a consideration. Even if Ma needed to leave the house for a while, either Sean or Dale would be around. Da would love havin’ his youngest sons nearby the whole day long. Their silliness never failed to delight him. Until the Lord took Da home, Galen wanted him to be showered with every joy possible.

It wasn’t long before Ruth and Laney rode up. He helped them dismount and casually looked about to be sure Toledo hadn’t shadowed them. “I’ll put your horses out to pasture. Day’s going to be hot, so we’ll pamper them a wee bit.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you,” Laney gushed.

“Thank you, Galen.” Ruth stepped closer. “I brought something over you might want to read.” She handed him a slip of paper. “I copied it down because I didn’t think you’d want your dad to read it in the newspaper. It’s about the Pony Express.”

“Okay.” He tucked the paper in his pocket and led the horses toward the barn so he could unsaddle them. The paper nearly burned a hole in his pocket, but he tended the horses first. Once they contentedly cropped grass in the pasture, he sat under a cottonwood and leaned against the trunk.

What he’d taken as one slip of paper turned out to be two. Ruth’s penmanship made him grin. For all of her fancy schooling, he’d expected her to use all the pretty flourishes and elegant sweeps. Instead, her script was far worse than his own, and that was saying plenty.

June 6, 1860 William Finney, writing from Carson City

She’d placed that at the top of the page, and Galen perked up. William Finney was the pony agent in San Francisco. The fact that he’d gone to Carson City underscored the gravity of what had already transpired.

Will the people of Sacramento help the Pony in its difficulty?

Galen’s pulse picked up. Surely, this meant something was bound to happen. Sacramento was proud as could be about being the last Pony stop. From there, everything was dispersed via the Post Office. Sacramentans wouldn’t want to lose the prestige. Finney’s approaching them for assistance rated as nothing short of brilliant.