A Love Restored

by Goshorn, Kelly;

  An awkward silence filled the room.

  Miss Sutton leaned forward, her brows furrowed. “Mr. Coulter, the railroad will make it here to Catoctin Creek, won’t it?”

  “Without a doubt, the line will make it beyond Catoctin Creek to Round Hill, but if new funds aren’t raised, I may never get my chance to take it over the Blue Ridge.”

  Her expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure that would be an excellent opportunity for you.”

  “Then what will you do for employment, Mr. Coulter? I will not have an idle young man calling on Ruth.”

  Benjamin ignored the icy tone in Mrs. Sutton’s voice. “There are many good prospects for surveyors, ma’am. Towns all across the south are rebuilding, railroads are expanding in every direction, and the west is opening up as well. My employer gave me a list of contracts they have with the government. I’m considering heading west to Colorado, Wyoming, or maybe even Alaska.”

  Mrs. Sutton lowered the coffee cup from her lips. “Alaska? Why on earth would you want to go to a cold, barren wilderness? There would be no culture—no educated people with whom to spend your time.” She certainly spoke her mind, much like her daughter.

  “I want to see the western territories before they become overrun like the eastern states. The chance to make something out of nothing—to help tame that wild land. The west is a great equalizer, and opportunities like that don’t come around very often.”

  Mrs. Sutton’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”

  Benjamin rubbed his jaw, carefully weighing his words. He didn’t want to give this woman any reason to prevent him from calling on her daughter. “It provides a man with the chance to meet one of his most fundamental needs—to be judged on his abilities rather than his bank account.”

  She straightened in her chair. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  He glanced at Miss Sutton. Her eyes widened. Oh, boy. If he found his collar tight before, it strangled him now. “No, ma’am. Not you specifically. It’s just the way things are back here.”

  Mrs. Sutton lifted her chin. “Young man—”

  Joseph placed his hand on Mrs. Sutton’s shoulder, quieting her. “It sounds like a wonderful plan. I have a mind to head west and start my own horse ranch someday.”

  Mrs. Palmer stared wide-eyed at her husband.

  Benjamin stifled a grin. He surmised that was the first she’d heard of his westerly ambitions.

  As the grandfather clock chimed, Benjamin took one last swig of his coffee and gathered his hat. He’d prefer to stay and visit with Miss Sutton longer, but he’d determined ahead of time this first visit would be brief. He wanted to make a good impression on her family and leave early without overstaying his welcome.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sutton, for allowing me to visit in your home tonight. It was a pleasure.”

  “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you, Benjamin.” Joseph’s gaze landed on his mother-in-law. She gave the slightest nod of her head in affirmation. “You are welcome to call on Ruth Ann again.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “If you ever need work, Benjamin, come by the livery. If I don’t need help, I usually have a good idea of who’s hiring.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Palmer. I’ll do that.”

  “If I’m to be seeing you socially…” Joseph paused and glanced at Ruth Ann’s smiling face, “and it appears I will be, then you’d better be calling me Joseph.”

  Benjamin smiled and took Joseph’s hand. “Thank you, Joseph.”

  ~*~

  “I’ll see you out, Mr. Coulter.” Ruth Ann removed her shawl from the hall tree.

  Benjamin opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He reached for her hand and brought her beside him before closing the egress behind them. At his touch, that familiar lightning bolt shot through her.

  He raised her hand to his lips. “Now that I’ll be paying calls on you, I’d prefer you call me by my Christian name.”

  A shy smile spread across her face. “All right, Benjamin. If you’ll call me, Ruth Ann.”

  He pressed another kiss against the back of her hand.

  Glancing to the window where her mother hovered just beyond the lace curtains, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry about Mama.”

  “It’s all right. She’s just being protective of her daughter. I respect that.” Benjamin stepped backward, guaranteeing he was out of Mrs. Sutton’s line of sight, then drew her close to him. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “You are striking in that dress, Ruth Ann.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek then took his leave.

  She slid her hand to the spot where his lips had been then closed her eyes and willed her knees not to buckle out from under her. What power did he have over her? She hadn’t wanted James to touch her, but she longed for Benjamin’s caress. This couldn’t be real—she must be dreaming.

  Reaching for the doorknob, she glanced back to where they’d stood moments earlier. Hopefully, she wouldn’t wake up for a very long time.

  10

  The cool October wind shuffled colorful autumn leaves around Ruth Ann’s feet. A squirrel, cheeks laden with treasure, hustled across her path before making his way up a nearby maple tree. He deposited his bounty in a nest before crawling back out and scurrying along the branches. Chuckling at his antics, she drew her shawl close and resumed her pace. As she walked, she reviewed the list of items she needed to purchase at the mercantile. Benjamin offered to teach her to make sugar cookies this afternoon. He guaranteed they would melt in her mouth.

  Benjamin. She sighed. The last month had been a whirlwind of romance. Nothing fancy like the cotillions James had insisted they attend. Instead, he’d eaten dinner with her family several times a week, they’d read Jules Verne together on the porch swing, and he’d even made good on that fishing trip he’d proposed so long ago. She’d out-fished him, too. Unsure how his male pride would take that, she’d thrown a few back when he wasn’t looking. Even Mama seemed to be enjoying his company, although she wouldn’t admit it.

  Ruth Ann hadn’t told him yet, but Benjamin Coulter had already captured her heart.

  As she neared Turner’s store, she discovered two men studying her. One pointed in her direction as she approached. Lowering her gaze, she climbed the stairs. The taller, dark-haired man stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

  “Excuse me, please, sir.”

  The taller man spoke, his gravelly voice setting her nerves on edge. “We don’t move for darkie lovers.”

  Ruth Ann froze. She’d experienced some censure from people she knew because of her position at the Freedmen’s School, but these men were strangers. Alarmed by his coarse manners, she bit her lip and kept her tongue in check. This was not the time or place to challenge these men. Avoiding his scrutiny, she attempted to sidestep the shorter red-haired man who thus far had remained silent.

  He repositioned himself, preventing her from entering the store. “Where do you think you’re goin’, little lady?”

  Ruth Ann locked eyes with him, determined not to show fear in their presence.

  “Well, now, I guess when your mama forgot to teach you to stay away from darkies, she forgot to tell you it’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

  Alcohol reeked on the shorter man’s breath. She took a step back, her frustration barely contained beneath an attempted show of indifference. The dark-haired man screwed up his lips and spat tobacco juice at her feet. The brown liquid landed atop her right boot, splattering the hem of her dress.

  “Aw, now ain’t that somethin’? I missed the spittoon, darlin’.” He swished the wad of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “I got an idea, teacher. Why don’t you get one of those coloreds you love to clean your boot for you so they learn their place?”

  She tightened her jaw.

  The redhaired man guffawed. “That’s a good one, Silas.” The taller man gave him a stern look that immediately silenced his companion. He stepped close
r to Ruth Ann and grabbed her wrist. “Some folks around here don’t like the idea of you teaching them darkies to read and write. Might make ‘em get all uppity.”

  Ruth Ann’s heart pounded in her chest. Silas Hench? The man Joseph saw watching the school with Mr. Hamilton? She struggled to free herself, but Silas tightened his hold and yanked her toward him. Her face now inches from the brown liquid oozing between his tobacco-stained teeth. Her stomach churned.

  “Me and my friend here would take it as a personal favor if you was to stop teaching ‘em darkies.”

  “Only the ignorant fear the education of others.”

  “You watch yer mouth, missy, and mind what I say. I’d hate to see anything happen to that purty face of yours.”

  A bell jingled and voices resonated from the open doorway.

  The dark-haired man released her with a little shove.

  “Good-bye, Morgan,” Mr. Turner called. “Give my best to Clara.” He paused, eyes darting between the men and her. “Everything all right here, Ruth Ann?”

  She nodded, massaging her wrist.

  “If you folks don’t need anything from the store today, why don’t you go on your way so my paying customers can get inside?”

  The two men obliged his request, but not before tipping their hats in Ruth Ann’s direction. “Sorry again about your shoe, Miss.”

  Mr. Turner’s gaze shifted to Ruth Ann’s feet. “What happened to your shoe?”

  Ruth Ann took a deep breath, relieved the two men had gone. “Oh nothing, really. The taller man missed the spittoon.” She raised her skirt a bit so he could see. “It will clean up easy enough.”

  He wrinkled his brow then took Ruth Ann by the elbow. “You’re shaking.”

  She didn’t offer any explanation. If word of this got back to Joseph, he might make her resign her position.

  “Come inside and sit down. Adelaide has the kettle simmering in the storeroom. A cup of tea will warm you up and calm your nerves.”

  “Thank you. Tea would be appreciated.”

  He guided her to the alcove at the back of the store and pulled out a chair for her at the checker table. “I still remember you and your father playing here during winter. Charles Sutton was a fine man. I’ll be right back with your tea.” Mr. Turner disappeared behind the curtain dividing the store from the backroom.

  Ruth Ann’s hands shook as she removed her shawl. She brushed a lone tear from her cheek. What might have happened if Mr. Turner hadn’t come when he had? She didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, she stared at the checkerboard painted on the surface of the round table. She hadn’t played in years. Running her hand over the smooth edge, she closed her eyes and breathed deep, certain the smell of her father’s pipe tobacco still hung in the air.

  “Wait, Ruthie. Think before you move,” he’d say.

  “But I can take your king, Papa!”

  “Yes, but before you make a move, even one which might take my king, you should look at every option.” Her father paused and looked at her. “Every choice you make will have different results—some better than others.”

  Ruth Ann then examined the entire board with renewed vigor. She’d study each of her red pieces, reviewing every move it could make. Then she’d find it. Picking up the red checker two squares over from her original move, she’d jump two of her father’s single blacks and the coveted king.

  “That’s my girl! Remember, Ruthie, a wise person contemplates all their choices before making a decision.” He’d reach up and put his hand on her cheek. “Some choices, once made, can never be undone.”

  “So true, Papa,” she whispered as her thoughts drifted back to the confrontation outside moments earlier. What counsel would he offer her regarding her position at the Freedmen’s School?

  “Here you go, dear.” Adelaide Turner set the teacup on the checkerboard table, worry etched on her face.

  “Thank you.” Ruth Ann held the steaming liquid close, allowing its warmth to calm her anxious nerves.

  “Malachi is going to fetch Joseph from the livery to escort you home so those ruffians don’t bother you again.”

  She sat up a bit straighter and lowered her cup. What would Joseph do? He would feel obliged to tell Mama, and Mama would want her to resign. Maybe she could hint to Mr. Turner that Joseph might have gone to the livery in Hamilton or the horse farm in Middleburg today? No. Lying was never a good solution to any problem. “I hate to be a bother. Besides I have a few things I need to purchase.”

  Adelaide patted her hand. “It’s no trouble, I assure you. Tell me what you need. I’ll fill your order while you drink your tea.”

  Mr. Turner untied his apron and laid it across the counter. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She forced a nod, hoping he wouldn’t make the situation out to be more than it was.

  ~*~

  The bell jingled above the door as Benjamin entered the mercantile.

  “Benjamin, nice to see you today.”

  “You as well, sir. Myra said Ruth Ann came to the store a while ago, but she hasn't returned home.” Benjamin’s eyes swept the inside looking for Ruth Ann. “Is she here?”

  Malachi nodded toward the alcove where Ruth Ann sat cradling a teacup. “There was an incident with two men on the porch. I’m not sure what they said exactly, but she looked fairly shaken. Adelaide noticed a red mark around her wrist, so we figured one of the fellas must have grabbed her.”

  Benjamin’s hands clenched at his sides at the thought of someone manhandling Ruth Ann.

  Malachi’s gaze drifted to Benjamin’s tightly balled fists. “She’s all right, Benjamin. A little shook up, but fine otherwise. I was on my way to fetch Joseph to make sure she made it home safely.”

  “No need, Malachi. I’ll see her home.” He walked to the alcove and laid a possessive hand on Ruth Ann’s shoulder. “Myra was getting worried.”

  She gave his hand a little squeeze in return, letting hers linger on his for a moment before returning it to her lap. “I was visiting with Adelaide, but I’m hoping you’re still planning to teach me your secret sugar cookie recipe today.”

  “Nothing’s changed.” He squatted down beside her. “But Malachi told me some men were bothering you on the porch. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. They were expressing the opinion many have about me teaching Negroes.”

  Benjamin reached for Ruth Ann’s hand and examined her wrist. “How did you get this red mark?” He waited, but she didn’t answer. “Did one of them touch you?”

  She looked away.

  That was all he needed to know. Benjamin stood again, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Did you recognize the men, Malachi?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen them both around here before. The fella with the red hair might be from the railroad camp, but I don’t know his name. He always pays in cash, so I’ve never run a tab for him. But the taller one was Silas Hench.”

  Ruth Ann trembled beneath his fingertips.

  Silas Hench—he recognized that name. And soon, Silas would know Benjamin’s.

  ~*~

  Benjamin was thankful for the distraction making cookies provided. Occasionally, his thoughts wandered back to the men who had harassed Ruth Ann earlier. He couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that some ruffians had touched his woman. Benjamin shook his head. When had she become his woman? They’d only been courting a month. He was supposed to be moving slowly, letting the Lord direct his path. The sudden realization that he considered Ruth Ann his both warmed his heart and filled him with trepidation.

  Smiling, Ruth Ann set the bowl on the counter. “All done.”

  Benjamin peered at the dough resting inside. “Nope, not yet. There are two secrets to this recipe. One is the powdered sugar and the other is blending the dough until there is not a lump of butter left in it.”

  She kneaded her upper arm. “I’m getting tired. Wouldn’t you like a turn?”

  He didn’t know what was cuter—her flour-covered cheeks, or
her pouty lip. But he didn't intend to let her off the hook too easily. “Why don’t you tell me about your students’ progress or the latest novel you’re reading? It will help take your mind off your work.”

  “You’re probably right.” She slid the bowl away from him, shielding his view with her body. “Myra told me that slaves would sing songs as they worked together in the fields or the barns. It helped to make the drudgery of their work more bearable.”

  “Drudgery?” Benjamin chuckled. “I’d hardly call making a batch of cookies drudgery.”

  She leaned slightly to the right. “To each his own, I suppose.”

  What was she up to? He came up behind her. Peeking over her shoulder, he caught Ruth Ann red-handed with a blob of cookie dough on her index finger. “Eh, eh, eh,” He shook his finger. “No snitching either.”

  She attempted an innocent smile. “I thought it would be a shame to continue beating the batter so diligently if it didn’t taste good.”

  Benjamin raised his brow, skeptical of her story. She was good, almost convincing. “You may have a point.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand then raised it closer to his face, examining the dough this way and that. “But since you’ve never had these cookies before, you wouldn’t be a good judge as to whether the dough tastes right.”

  Her protests rang out a moment too late as Benjamin deftly brought her hand toward his mouth and licked the dough clean from her finger. She gasped, rousing her faithful dog from his slumber by the stove. Buddy barked, calling attention to some perceived injustice against Ruth Ann. Benjamin placed his finger across his lips to shush the old dog. Determined to protect the honor of his mistress, Buddy persisted relentlessly.

  Benjamin’s eyes drifted back to Ruth Ann. She stood with her back against the counter, mouth agape. His gaze dropped briefly to the quick rise and fall of her chest. He scooped a blob of dough onto his finger and raised an eyebrow. She licked her lips. They stood eyes locked on one another.

  Myra pushed open the swinging door from the dining room. “How’s that dough comin’?”