Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (35 page)

“Miss Elaine,” Farnsworth said, “I’d be honored if you’d allow me to help you alight.”

“How kind of you,” Laney said.

Josh reached upward. “Come here, Ruthie.”

As he helped her down, Ruth said, “It’s the funniest thing. When your father called me ‘Ruthie,’ it reminded me of my grandfather. You call me ‘Ruthie,’ and it’s just different somehow.”

Hilda cackled but didn’t say a word.

Dad jumped down from the wagon and ignored her. Josh turned loose of Ruth and helped Hilda descend. “Ruth’s attorney and I are going to escort her to the bank. I’m not sure how long we’ll be. If you finish up, go on ahead to the Copper Kettle and we’ll meet you there.”

“I’ll take Ruth.” McCain took her hand and threaded it through his arm. “You stay close to me this time, my dear. We can’t have you falling as you did the first time you came to town.”

Ruth slipped her other hand around Josh’s arm. “Isn’t this fun? Your daddy’s going to drop us off. Oh, I’m not supposed to know, but it’s really okay, Mr. McCain. You feel free to toddle along to the saloon. Mrs. Tudbert—she was the headmistress at one of the schools I attended—well, she claimed I could drive all but the heartiest men to drink.”

“Me? Drink?” McCain gave her a wounded look.

“Yes, you. Or you do a fair imitation of it,” Hilda said. “Either that, or the whiskey in the hutch sure is evaporating quick as greased lightnin’.”

“Mercy.” Ruth covered her mouth with her gloved hand. Of course the glove was smudged, but Josh grinned at that fact. She might be wealthy as a queen, but she’d end up looking like a happy peasant a good portion of the time. Shoulders slumping, she sighed, “My mouth gets me into difficulty all of the time. I should have thought about what I said, and I didn’t.”

“No harm done,” McCain said.

Ruth went on, “It’s just that when you came to Lester’s Mercantile the other day to pick us up, you said something about the Nugget. I just assumed …” Her eyes widened and she whipped out her fan. Fluttering it at an impossible speed, she gasped, “My. Oh my.”

“Laney, you come along with me.” Hilda hauled Laney to the store.

“No need to be in a dither.” Dad tried to pat Ruth.

Her fan kept fluttering, bumping against his fingertips. Having seen how inept she was with a fan, Josh figured it was just Ruth being clumsy. Dad continued to try to soothe her and received several thwaps before he grabbed the frippery. “See here now, girl. There’s nothing wrong with a man wetting his whistle. One or two whiskeys while I talk over business with associates isn’t really drinking.”

She went pale as dandelion fluff and her hold on Josh’s arm tightened. He reached over and slid his other hand over hers. “Ruth?”

“Perhaps it would be best to have Miss Caldwell out of the sun,” Farnsworth said.

Ruth extended her other hand, palm upward. Even through the covering of her smudged glove, Josh saw how her hand shook. So did her voice. “Please.”

McCain beamed and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I knew you’d see reason.” He took a step, but Ruth didn’t follow along.

She yanked her hand away from him and half-whispered, “The fan.”

McCain pivoted toward her and forced a chuckle. “I’d rather face a man with a bullwhip than you with a fan.” He half opened the fan, but his left arm and hand were awkward. His thumb broke a few of the thin ivory spokes, and part of the silk tore. “Wretched little thing. You’re better off without it.” He flipped it onto the ground.

Immediately Ruth knelt and reached for it.

Josh stooped and swept the broken fan from the ground. He turned. The look on Ruth’s face knocked him to his knees. “Here, Ruthie.”

Dusty and mangled though it was, Ruth pressed the fan to her bosom.

“All this fuss about a cheap little nothing,” Dad groused.

Blinking back tears, Ruth started to rise. Josh popped up and braced her elbow.

His father cleared his throat. “I’ll buy you another one.”

Folding the fan with near reverence and carefully tucking it into her reticule, Ruth didn’t give a response. She squared her shoulders. “Joshua, please take me to the bank.”

McCain stepped back, and Josh led her to the boardwalk. He could feel her shaking. “What is it?”

Ruth didn’t look at him. Eyes lowered, voice full of pain, she rasped, “It was Mama’s fan.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

T
he house felt empty. Even with five of them moving about and Da in the bed, the place seemed too roomy, too quiet. Galen set the pitcher of yesterday’s cream from the spring house on the table.

Sean stuck his head over the loft railing. “Ma, can we have flapjacks with raspberry syrup again?”

“Nay, boy-oh. Your father’s wanting oatmeal with blackberries.”

“No better way to start the day,” Da said. He chuckled a little before he coughed. “I take that back. The best way to start the day is openin’ my eyes and seeing the fairest woman God ever fashioned.”

Ma blushed. “You and your blarney.”

“’Tis nice to see you in that new dress,” Colin said.

“Me in a store-bought dress is like putting silk on a sow.”

“Kelly-mine, you’ll always be the queen o’ my heart.”

Ma laughed like a young girl. “Serve a man his favorite food, and his tongue turns silver.”

Dale scrambled down the ladder from the loft and over to the bed. “Let me see!”

“See what?” Colin asked.

“Stick out your tongue, Da. I want to see a silver one. Mine’s red. See?” Dale stuck out his tongue.

“Silly boy.” Galen ran his fingers through his brother’s shortcropped, unruly curls. “’Tis a saying. If a man has a silver tongue, it means he can turn a pretty phrase.”

“Can girls have silver tongues?”

“Sure, they can. Why?”

Dale sneezed and started to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Galen handed him a bandana with a stern look. After using the bandana, Dale declared, “Laney has a silver tongue. She has sweet words for everyone.”

“Aye, she does.” Ma set bowls on the table. “She, Hilda, and Ruth all have hearts o’ gold, too. Just look at what they came and did.”

Five stacks of jars lined the far wall, partially blocking the window. Each stack was eight high. “I’ve ne’er seen the likes of that,” Da marveled.

“I’ll carry most out to the barn. Pick and choose what you want to keep in the house, Ma.”

“Your father and I talked it out.” Ma motioned everyone to the table. “I’ll set aside what our family’ll be needing, but you, Galen, can go to town and sell the rest of that to Lester. Stop by the Broken P on the way home and split the money with them.”

Shaking his head, Galen sat down and said, “Pony’s coming through any day now. I need to be here and have a mount ready, just in case.”

Ma rested her hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Your brother’s more than able to ready the horse for the Pony today. He’ll see to that chore whilst you make the jaunt.”

Colin stretched to his full height and flashed a proud smile. “Of course I can do that. I’ve been watching. Pony used to come through about two in the afternoon. I’ll have the horse ready by one-thirty.”

Galen squinted across the table and pretended to assess his brother. “’Tis a hefty responsibility.”

“One I’m up to.”

“Lula would be my choice to do the run.”

“She’s the mustang with the brown coat and white tail,” Colin declared. “Sweet tempered, too.”

“Aye, you’ll do.” Galen bobbed his head. “But ’tis a man’s job.” Colin nearly popped the buttons off his shirt from puffing out his chest, but that was exactly what Galen wanted.

Ma winked at him. If push came to shove, Ma could ready the mare, but Galen knew she wouldn’t need to. She’d planted the idea, then stayed out of the exchange so Colin would feel he’d had a man-to-man conversation.
I don’t remember, but I bet she and Da did the
same thing with me when I was young
.

“Dale and Sean,” Ma said as she carried a bowl over to Da, “the both of you best go weed the garden today. Hilda said she’d be coming back sometime soon, and you don’t want her to be thinking you shirked your duties.”

Da accepted the bowl. “Perhaps, if you boys are good, Galen’ll bring back candy from the store.”

Sean wrinkled his nose. “God knows if we’re good, but how will Galen?”

Colin put his finger to his lips. “That’s a secret.”

Dale leaned closer and whispered loudly, “Like Ma havin’ eyes in the back of her head?”

“Shhh!” Colin hissed while nodding slowly.

After breakfast, Ma directed which jars were to go to town. Galen and Colin loaded the buckboard, and then, as Ma fussed over how to keep the jars from breaking, Galen went back inside. “Da, was there anything you’d like?”

Da reached for Galen’s hand.

Cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed so it wouldn’t jostle his father, Galen clasped his father’s frail hand in his.
There was a
time when his hand was so much bigger and tougher than mine. I never thought
he’d be anything but strong and capable
.

“There’s but one thing I always wanted to buy.”

“What’s that, Da?”

“I couldn’t afford to buy your ma a ring. Nothing would gladden my heart as much as to slip a pretty band o’ golden love upon her finger.”

Eyes and nose burning from unshed tears, Galen couldn’t speak a word. He gently squeezed Da’s hand.

“I ask so much of you, son.” Da’s voice broke. “But God’s given me the assurance deep in my heart that He’ll stay alongside you and be your fortress when I’m gone and you carry on.”

Choked with emotion, Galen cleared his throat twice before he managed to speak. “I’ll rely on Him, Da. But I’d take it as a favor if you’d not rush to the pearly gates.”

“None of us knows the dear Lord’s plan or timing. ’Tis our place to take His lead and obey. The path is oft rocky, but the view is always best when we get where He’s taking us.”

“Ready, Galen?” Colin yelled.

Galen forced a smile. “For the time being, I guess God’s leading me to town.” He rose and settled Da’s hand on the covers, then pressed a kiss to his gaunt cheek. He murmured softly, “And the view there’ll be the finest band of gold you ever saw.”

Da’s smile stayed with Galen the whole way to town. When he pulled up to the back of Lester’s store, he spied three strangers coming up the road from the opposite direction. The sorriest mule he’d ever seen pulled a rickety wagon with sparse belongings. Judging from the way the people all boasted the same white-blond hair and worn-down look, Galen guessed they were father, son, and daughter.

“Feed my sheep.”
The Bible verse went through his mind. But how could he up and offer charity to complete strangers without offending them?

Lester opened the back door. “I wondered who pulled up. What’ve you got there?”

“Plenty.” Galen smiled. “I have crates of the usual fresh vegetables, but I also have canned tomatoes, green beans, jelly, syrup—”

“Well, well.” Lester rubbed his hands together.

“I thought I’d give you first chance before going over to the diner.”

“I’ll take it all. We’ll need to tally it.”

The dusty family and flea-bitten mule drew close.
“Feed my
sheep.”

Galen waved at them to stop. “I could use a little help unloading this and carrying it into the mercantile. I don’t have ready cash, but I could maybe give you a dozen jars.”

“Done.” The father motioned to his rawboned son to get to work. He and the girl coaxed the mule to turn into the open dirt field that held the wagons of others who had come to town.

Lester slapped Galen on the back. “Smart move. Business is brisk today. I’ll give you credit for half of the jars since I’m getting out of the work.”

Galen turned and shook hands with the stranger. “Galen O’Sullivan.”

“Ishmael Grubb. Glad to meet you.” He glanced at the food and admitted, “Gladder to have vittles. Been a while since I et anything other than corn mush.”

The girl came over. Her bedraggled dress still showed faint red and blue markings here and there from the BEST flour sacks she’d used to make it. What might have been pretty, moon-colored hair scraped back toward her nape, and a leather thong disciplined it. Her shoulders drooped as if she carried the weight of the world, but she gave her brother a sweet smile.

If I ever had a sister, it would break my heart to see her living hand-tomouth
as this girl must
.

She stood on tiptoe to look at the contents of the buckboard. “You want us to tote them jars inside?”

Stunned that she’d ever think to haul such weight, Galen shook his head. “Your brother and I will see to it, miss.”

“But Pa sent me to help.”

“Ivy’s strong,” Ishmael said as he hefted a flat of jelly jars.

“Miss Grubb, we’ll carry in the jars. You could help by tallying them for us.”

“Cain’t.” She raked her right foot back and forth. “Cain’t read nor write. Ishmael, he got three years of book learnin’. He cain keep tally whilst you and me tote the jars.”

“He’s payin’, Ivy. He cain keep tally. You an’ me’ll—”

“Actually,” Galen cut in, “Miss Grubb could do us the favor of asking Lester if he’d like the jars on shelves or just stacked in the back room.”