Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (30 page)
“That’s a good idea. I thought maybe I should open an account at Lester’s mercantile so I won’t have to carry money into town.” She fiddled with her sleeve. “Could I just give him one hundred dollars and have him deduct my purchases from that, then he’ll let me know when the funds are running low?”
Josh rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words to use. “You can’t do that, Ruth. It’s far too much money. A man who makes three hundred dollars a year can provide well for his family. If you want to open an account, fifty dollars is plenty, maybe even too much at that.”
“Oh, okay. Do you know how much Hilda earns?”
“I can’t say as I do. I can look it up. Why?”
“I’m probably going to be the death of that poor woman. You know I accidentally pulled down the clothesline when my horse bolted.”
“Yes. I’m glad you were all right.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but poor Hilda’s fresh laundry got muddy.”
“I still can’t figure out how you got a burr under that saddle.”
“There’s no explaining why these things happen to me, Josh. They just do. I’d hoped when I came out here that I’d become more graceful. The sad fact of the matter is, I’ve never come close to getting into half as many fixes and predicaments as I do here on the Broken P. Since I cause Hilda so much hardship and I’m thinking of remaining here, I’d like to double her salary.”
“Before you do anything that rash, let’s see what Dad’s paying her.” Josh crossed the parlor, removed the ledger from the drawer, and opened it. After flipping the pages, he stopped on one.
Odd. I told Dad the O’Sullivans bought those two mustangs for eighteen
dollars apiece. He must have misunderstood. He has them down as nine apiece
for a total of eighteen
. But one line lower, he showed the stallion Eddie Lufe bought for twenty as twelve.
This isn’t right
.
The opposite page showed accounts paid. The names of all the hands were there with a notation that each received his monthly pay of twelve dollars.
Twelve times twelve is one hundred forty-four. Dad and I
agreed the yearly wage was supposed to be one eighty. The men should have been
getting an additional three bucks a month!
Sick inside, Josh looked farther down the page.
Hilda’s earning
seven and a half dollars a month
. Flipping backward, he looked at the accounts for previous months. Those showed the hands each earning fifteen dollars a month and Hilda earning thirteen.
Something’s
wrong. Very, very wrong
. He closed the book.
“Did you find what she’s earning?”
Josh placed the ledger into the drawer, shut it, and gripped the edge of the desk.
He’s my father. There’s got to be an explanation for this
.
Ruth stood beside him and gently placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to ask you what your financial arrangements are with Hilda. You don’t have to say a word, Josh. It’s just that I was trying to make up for the extra work I put her through.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Ruth. We’re discussing financial issues, and the topics can be touchy. It occurs to me that neither of us has prayed about this, and that should come first. Let’s agree on praying and not discussing any of this with anyone but God. In a few days, you and I can talk again.”
“I don’t mind if Laney and your father know.”
“No. Just you and me.” From her wide eyes, he knew he’d spoken too swiftly, too forcefully. Josh leaned against the desk and feigned nonchalance. “It’ll be a while until the funds arrive. There’s no hurry. Let’s agree to pray for wisdom and discernment.”
“That’s a good idea. Josh? I do want to keep a little fund for frivolous expenses. Today, I sent a letter by stage to Bernadette. I wish the Pony Express was working again. It would be much faster.”
“From what I hear, it’ll be running again soon.”
Ruth nodded. “I’m glad. Anyway, Bernadette was our housekeeper back home. I asked her to send dime novels to Laney and me by Pony so we won’t have to wait for them.”
“Pony charges by weight, Ruth. It’s five bucks per half-ounce.”
She laughed. “I know. It’ll be outrageously expensive, but it’s worth every penny to listen to your sister read.”
He forced a smile.
“Well, I guess I’ll turn in for the night. Thank you for praying and helping me with this. I know I can trust you.”
Don’t trust anyone else, Ruth
. “Sweet dreams.” Josh waited until she went upstairs and gave her a little time to change and settle into bed. Ever since someone hit Laney, Ruth had been sleeping in his sister’s room. For all of her claims of being clumsy, Ruth managed to move very silently and gracefully so she never woke his sister.
Finally sure Ruth must be asleep, Josh faced the desk with mounting dread. The desk had been Alan Caldwell’s. Alan had shown him the trick latch that opened what appeared to be the base of the drawer section. Josh felt along the wood, tripped the latch, and slowly withdrew another ledger from the cavity.
The cover matched the other book in appearance, but the sums in it were far different. Page after page, proof of Dad’s deceit mounted.
But why did the book in the drawer under-record the fee for the horses when wages were recorded at a lower-than-agreed upon rate? The other months, that book showed the men and Hilda earned more. But those other months showed irregularities. The feed store bill was a dollar higher than it should have been. Josh pored over the books, trying to make sense of it.
The book in the drawer—he accidentally wrote the real wages in it instead
of the ones we agreed upon. The books look alike and Dad got careless. He’s been
skimming money from every source
. Josh shook his head.
But why? Why
would Dad do this?
“So you’re not sleepy, either.”
Josh wheeled around.
Ruth stood in the doorway, bundled in a velvet robe that matched her green, green eyes. “I came down to make some warm milk.” Her smile faded as she spotted the two books on the desk. “Oh, Josh. No.”
C
ome to sleep, Kelly-mine.” Da patted the mattress beside himself.
Galen hugged his mother. “I’m thinking Da’s in the right of it. We could all use a wee bit o’ sleep.”
“More ’n a wee bit. Last night the both of you hovered o’er me all the night long.” Da’s voice grew gruff, “Made a big deal outta nothing.”
“Now, then, don’t you be giving me a hard time, Cullen O’Sullivan.” Ma shook her finger at Da. “If you’d ask for a wee bit o’ help, you wouldn’t have scared us all half out of our skin. Deciding to take a nap on the floor—’twasn’t the best notion you ever took.”
“You’ll forgive me, Kelly-mine. I know you will.” Da smiled at her. “Aye, and I’ll be telling you and Galen that asking you to marry me was one of the best notions I e’er had. She’s too big-hearted to carry a grudge.”
“You’re not fair, Cullen. Sayin’ such a thing takes the wind right out of my sails.” Ma pulled back the quilt on her side of the bed.
Galen started up the ladder to the loft he shared with his little brothers. “God rest on your pillow,” he said.
“Aye, and may the dear Lord tuck the covers clear up to your chin,” Da said back.
Galen stood by the bed he shared with Colin and frowned. He always slept on the side nearest the ladder, but tonight Colin lay in that spot. Planning to nudge his brother into rolling over, Galen bent over.
Colin’s eyes popped open. He whispered, “You stayed up last night. I’ll keep watch tonight.”
“I doubt there’s need, Colin. Da’s fair-to-middlin’ tonight.”
“Well, I’ll still be here at our parents’ beck and call. You’re too tired to be much good to them.”
Rather than argue, Galen crawled over Colin and got beneath the covers.
“Why,” Colin whispered, “is Ma saying Da was taking a nap on the floor? ’Tis a lie, flat out.”
“Da’s pride got dented. In his weakness, he fell.”
“I know that.”
“So Ma’s catering to Da’s feelings, teasing him about a nap.” Galen yanked the pillow out from beneath his brother’s head and traded so he had his own. He didn’t lay his head down right away. Instead, he looked at Colin and murmured, “For now, ’tis far better she make light of it than weep. The days of weeping will come soon enough.”
“You, me, or Ma—one of us should be with Da from now on.”
Galen heard the catch in Colin’s voice. He reached over and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Best it be Ma at night, else Da will waken and think he’s still havin’ a nightmare.”
Colin let out a tense laugh.
“Eh, you boys,” Ma called from below, “you’re supposed to be closin’ your eyes and your mouths.”
Galen winked at Colin. “Ma, I do my best, but you can’t expect that of Colin. E’en with his eyes shut tight and sleep claimin’ him, his mouth hangs wide open and he snores worse than a bear.”
Da’s chortle drifted up to them. “The boy takes after me, he does.”
“Sleep now,” Galen whispered. “You’ll never receive a finer compliment than that, boy-oh.”
Saturday passed with all the normal chores, and Ma filled the big tub with steaming water. “You boys all scrub up. Sean, be mindful to wash behind your ears this time. I nigh unto perished when I spied all the dirt you left there last Sunday.”
“It spoiled her worship, it did.” Colin grinned.
Galen noticed the ornery glint in his eye and waited for whatever was to follow.
“It did?” Sean’s earnest little face scrunched in dismay as he peeled out of his shirt.
“Aye, to be certain it did.” Colin leaned forward and poked Sean in the middle of his scrawny chest. “Ma couldn’t help thinkin’ on all the ’taters she could have planted in that dirt instead of paying heed to the circuit rider’s fine sermon.”
Sean’s mouth dropped open, then he collapsed into a fit of giggles.
Galen lifted another bucket of water onto the stove. “Do we know who’s fillin’ the pulpit tomorrow?”
“Can’t say as I recall.” Ma set to ironing a shirt. “Folks all do well enough, taking turns; but I still wish our flock had a single shepherd.”
“While you’re a-wishin’,” Dale said, peeling off his sock, “why don’t you pray for God to give the flock hymnals? It’s fearfully hard for me not to laugh when Mr. Lufe makes up his own words since he can’t recollect the real ones to the songs.”
A few minutes later, Galen plucked his shirt off the ironing board.
“Put that back. I’m getting to it,” Ma ordered.
Galen shook his head. “Do your Sunday dress, Ma. I’m staying home with Da this week.”
“Now why would you be thinkin’ that?” she demanded.
“Because,” he smirked and leaned close to her. “I’m avoiding temptation.”
“Since when did you find temptation in a pew?”
“Ever since Eddie Lufe decided he liked to sit directly behind me. Dale’s not the only one who wants to laugh.”
“You’re a bad boy, you are, Galen O’Sullivan.” Ma snatched his shirt from him. “And you’re going to church tomorrow because of it.”
Indeed, the next morning, Galen rounded up his brothers, let Ma walk down the line of them to do a quick inspection, then led them to Sunday service. Time was, they would have all gone as a family in the buckboard. He missed sitting in a knot of arms and legs with his brothers in the bed as his parents conversed up on the bench.
“Galen? Is it sinful for me to be proud, riding to church on my very own horse?”
“Why don’t you think on being thankful instead of proud, Sean? Getting a horse is an honor. After all, it marks you as being a little man instead of a mere boy—but being a man holds responsibilities. Be thankful God provided for you and ask Him to make you worthy.”
Dale sat before Galen in the saddle. He blew out a noisy sigh.
Colin matched that sigh. He turned to Dale. “Responsibilities can wear on a body. Galen says I have to rest my mare. Sorcha’s looking a mite better, but it rankles to be without her for a time.”
“Nevertheless, you’re doing the right thing.” Galen squeezed Dale’s arm. “As are you, Dale. By loaning your horse to a brother, you’re showing Christian charity. ’Tis a rare man who can give in silence. Most want credit, but then they’re doing the act for man’s approval. You—well, you haven’t breathed a word. I’m thinking our heavenly Father must be pleased with you.”