Ruth Ann glanced from the swinging door to her sister. “Is her leg troubling her tonight? I’ve been remiss at applying the liniment to her hip.”
Sarah shook her head as she swallowed.
“Then what has Mama so upset?”
Sarah lowered the fork from her lips. “I’m sure you know she was watching at the window when Benjamin brought you home.”
She nodded.
“Mama saw Benjamin try to kiss you.”
Ruth Ann bit her lip and grinned sheepishly. “But she must have seen that I didn’t let him. Is that why she’s angry with me? Does she think I’m too free with him?”
Sarah dabbed her mouth with a cloth napkin before lying it on the table. “No, she thinks she’s losing you to him.”
Ruth Ann sat up straighter in her chair. “What?”
“She’s worried you’ll marry Benjamin, and he’ll take you away from home, following the rails west, never to be seen again.”
“Oh.” Ruth Ann sipped her tea. “We haven’t discussed marriage.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
She chuckled under her breath at Sarah’s frank remark. And folks thought she was direct. “I think so.”
“Then why haven’t you let him kiss you?”
She shuddered at the unbidden image of James holding her close, pressing his lips against her own. It had nearly sickened her. “I think something might be wrong with me, Sarah.”
“What do you mean?”
“When James kissed me, it was like squeezing a soggy dishrag against my mouth. I didn’t like it one bit.” She lowered her gaze and stared at her hands. “I couldn’t bear it if kissing Ben felt the same.”
Sarah grinned. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”
Ruth Ann lifted her head. “Why?”
Sarah squeezed her sister’s hand. “Because kissing someone you love sets your insides on fire.” Sarah covered her mouth to suppress a yawn. “Do you mind cleaning up so I can go to bed?”
“I don’t mind, but it’s awfully early.”
“I’ve been so tired lately.” She hugged Ruth Ann. “Trust your heart. You’ll know when it’s the right time.”
She nodded. “Good night.”
Ruth Ann poured water from the stove’s reservoir into the sink. She cut a sliver of soap from the bar and watched it sink in the hot water. Sarah seemed confident there was a difference between kissing someone you loved and someone you didn’t, but Ruth Ann wasn’t so sure.
She sighed and returned her mother’s uneaten dessert to the serving dish then covered it with the glass lid. Her own portion sat atop vegetable peelings and soggy coffee grounds in the compost pile. Did mama really think Ben might marry her and take her west? Did she see something between them that Ruth Ann hadn’t seen herself? It was all so confusing.
Ben had wanted to kiss her earlier, and she’d nearly let him—until fear took over. Something more than apprehension over another lackluster kiss festered inside her. Twirling the dishrag through the soapy water, painful memories flooded her mind—snickers from the children in the schoolyard and cotillions with empty dance cards. Her grandfather commenting that he couldn’t get his arms around her when she was a girl or mother telling her not to eat sweets if she wanted to be thin like Sarah.
What was she so afraid of? Ben hadn’t seemed bothered by her fuller figure so far, but what if her figure became an issue?
What if it didn’t?
What would it be like to melt into his arms and let him ‘set her insides on fire’? She’d like to know, but that would mean he’d need to hold her—tight.
She forced out a breath. Would she ever be brave enough to find out?
~*~
Deep laughter came from the darkness. Benjamin squinted. Two, maybe three, men wobbled in his direction.
“Get up, Ollie. Yer so dag blasted drunk, you can’t stand up straight.”
Artie Johnson. Benjamin shook his head. He’d been remiss in looking out for Ollie since he left the encampment. He hustled across the green in the direction of the boisterous men.
“Ollie, you okay?” He offered a hand to the older man, still splayed on the ground.
“Hall-ooo Ben-fa-men.”
“I’m right here, Ollie. No need to yell.”
Ollie took Benjamin’s hand and allowed the younger man to maneuver him upright. He swayed on his feet. “Where’s yer purty gal tonight?”
He put his hands on Ollie’s shoulders. “Whoa. Steady there, Ollie. I already took Miss Sutton home.”
“Thaf’s too bad.” Ollie belched, filling the air between them with the pungent odor of rotgut and tobacco. “She’s reeeeeal nice.”
Artie snickered. “You still moonin’ over that plump schoolteacher? It’s a good thing her face is purty, cause everything south of her chin ain’t.” He guffawed and smacked his hat against his leg.
Benjamin’s jaw clenched. Just ignore him. He’s drunk.
Artie slapped Benjamin’s back. “Ya know, Coulter, the more I think on it, the more I realize her shape ain’t all bad.” Artie’s hands sliced the night sky in the curvaceous form of a woman’s figure with ample breasts. “After all, when they’s round, they’s round all over.”
Benjamin leaned Ollie against an obliging oak tree then grabbed the foul-mouthed, cantankerous spikeman by the shirt, nearly lifting Artie from the ground. “I would’ve thought you’d have learned by now not to talk about her that way.”
Benjamin released the crumpled fabric of Artie’s shirt from his grip, giving the man a backward shove. “Open your mouth again and I’ll bust your jaw so you can’t speak against her for a long time.”
“Aw, you need a drink. You’re no fun anymore.” He grabbed his hat off the ground and dusted it against his trousers. “See ya later, Ollie. Coulter.”
“Let’s get you home, Ollie.” Benjamin positioned his friend’s arm across the back of his shoulders. “Lean on me.”
The two made their way toward the tent encampment, Ollie occasionally stumbling on a tree root. “Don’t pay no mind to Artie. Fool wouldn’t know a good woman if she—”
“You don’t look so good, Ollie.”
Cheeks bulging and shoulders heaving, Ollie gagged and doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the hard Virginia clay. It splattered atop Benjamin’s right boot.
“Sorry, about that.”
Benjamin removed the handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to his friend. “Nothing a bit of water can’t fix.”
Ollie wiped his mouth then handed it back to Benjamin.
“That’s okay. You keep it.” He lifted the tent flap and guided Ollie to the cot. “Why are you drinkin’ so much?”
He shrugged. “Lonely, I guess.”
Benjamin reached down and tugged on his friend’s boot. He needed to spend more time with Ollie, encourage him to give up the drink. How was he going to do that? He spent nearly all his free time with Ruth Ann and, somehow, he couldn’t imagine the two of them together in her mother’s fancy parlor.
Ollie’s thick sausage-like fingers squeezed Benjamin’s shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about me, buddy.” He belched. “Excufe me. You got yer filly, and soon you’ll be a surveyor.”
Benjamin yanked on Ollie’s boot again, wrenching it free from the man’s chunky calf.
“I know some fellas make fun of yer gal’s buxom figure, but I remember her kindness that day we met. I reckon she’d be mighty disappointed to see me right now.”
“She’d be worried about you, same as me.” He pulled off Ollie’s other boot and shoved them both underneath his bunk.
“Well, don’t—” Ollie’s hand clamped across his mouth.
Benjamin scrambled for the chamber pot and thrust it under Ollie’s chin as the remainder of his stomach gushed from his lips like steam bursting from a racing locomotive’s chimney.
Ollie blew out a putrid breath. “Much better.”
Benjamin’s stomach heaved a
t the rancid smell permeating the tiny tent. Holding his breath, he slipped the pot outside.
“Don’t you listen to Artie neither? Just ’cause he likes ‘em slender and petite, doesn’t mean we all do.” He nudged Benjamin’s shoulder.
“Ollie—”
“I’m serious.” Ollie listed sideways, and Benjamin righted him. “There’s lots to be said for a buxom woman.” A liquor-induced grin spread across his face, and he waggled his brows. “They’re real soft.”
Benjamin shook his head and leaned Ollie back against the thin straw ticking.
“And you don’t have to worry about ’em runnin’ off on ya neither like my Hattie did.” Ollie yawned and his eyes drifted closed. “Cuz…nobody else…wants ’em.” His words trailed off until soft, grunting breaths replaced them.
Benjamin pulled the wool blanket over his sleeping friend and headed out into the night. Raucous laughter spilled from the gaming hall on the outskirts of the encampment. He quickened his pace toward the Petersons’ boardinghouse, flopping on the porch steps when he’d reached their sanctuary. What was he running from anyway? He wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t have to let the unkind remarks of others bother him as they had when he was a boy.
“Let me…rest…a moment…Benjamin.” Liza Coulter had grabbed her skirt and leaned her outstretched arm against the post.
Benjamin and his little brother and sister had stopped beside her.
Rivulets had dripped down Ma’s temples and the hair at the nape of her neck had been soaked from the short walk to town. She’d pulled a tattered fan from the basket she carried and waved it near her face.
Snickers had drawn Benjamin’s attention to a group of boys on the far side of the building. One pointed at his mother and laughed.
“Okay, son, give yer ma a hand.”
Benjamin had taken her sweaty hand in his and grimaced. He tugged with all his might and managed to pull her up the stairs.
“You stay here and mind Alice and George. Keep ’em close, ya hear?”
Benjamin’s eyes drifted down to his worn boots. He’d nodded.
Ma leaned into his ear. “Don’t pay those Kent brothers no mind. Ya hold yer head up high, son. Yer a Coulter.”
“Yes’m.”
Ma had released his hand and kissed his head. “I won’t be long.” Lifting her basket shoulder high, she’d angled sideways and disappeared through the narrow doors of the Fayetteville Mercantile.
Benjamin had wiped the sweat from his mother’s hand against his trousers and glanced at Alice and George. He’d offered to go to town for his Ma—alone. But she’d insisted they all needed to get off the farm for a while and a walk would do them good. Alice had stood barefoot. Her skirt, close to knee-length, had already been let down as far as it would go and she had been in desperate need of new shoes before winter. George’s trousers hung several inches above the top of his boots. Benjamin had been no better off. Skin had peeked through the hole ma had mended in his britches last week. Course, if Pa didn’t drink away all they made, they’d have money for shoes as well as material for new clothes.
What a spectacle they’d made.
“Hey, Coulter.”
Benjamin had glared at Bobby Kent. The Kents owned one of the largest dairy farms in the county. Although Bobby was only one year his senior, the boy had been more than a few inches taller and broader than Benjamin.
“Your folks own a milking cow?”
He’d nodded.
“I think she’s loose in the mercantile.”
Bobby’s younger brother doubled over laughing. “Maybe if she didn’t eat so much you, your brother, and your sister could get some decent clothes.”
Benjamin’s fists balled at his sides. He’d grown tired of the taunts from the Kents about his mother’s size. He had tired of never having enough to eat or proper clothes to wear despite a thriving orchard. Most of all, he had tired of the laughter and disrespect. He couldn’t wait ’til he was grown—he’d never be the butt of others jokes again.
The nearby trill of a screech owl shook Benjamin from his remembrances. Thoughts of Artie mocking Ruth Ann’s figure streamed through his mind, his drunken laughter echoed in his head. Benjamin rested his elbows on his knees, tapping the brim of his hat against his left palm. Why did it matter to him what Artie Johnson thought? He liked Ruth Ann’s fuller curves and all that came with them. She was smart, kind, and very pretty. He’d be a fool to let her go.
Ollie hadn’t meant to slight him, but his words had stung, too. Cuz nobody else wants ’em. Is that how other men perceived Ruth Ann? As the consolation prize? He’d been feeling pretty good about his draw in the game of love, but if other men thought she was just the honorable-mention ribbon, the kind of girl any man could get and never had to worry about another man wanting, he wasn’t so sure.
12
Benjamin slipped the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and plucked a few chords, checking that his instrument was in tune. “I learned this one in Texas. I’ll play through once and then I want everyone to join me in the chorus.”
“There’s a yellow rose of Texas that I am going to see— Benjamin winked at Ruth Ann while he sang. Her cheeks blossomed with color like spring flowers.
–And if I ever find her, we never more will part.”
He played the tune through a few more times, encouraged by Chloe’s vigorous clapping.
“That’s all for me. I don’t play as much as I used to and my fingers have lost their calluses. Any chance you have a fiddle, Joseph?”
Joseph shook his head.
Ruth Ann’s eyes widened. “You play the fiddle too?”
“My father taught me the fiddle when I was a boy. I haven’t gotten around to purchasing one yet.” Benjamin’s palm glided across the smooth spruce wood of his guitar. “I won this in a po—” His eyes darted to Mrs. Sutton as he cleared his throat. “—a card game in Tennessee during the war.” He expected censure, but instead, a hint of a smile twinkled in her eyes. He grinned. “Double or nothing in the next hand earned me some lessons as well.”
“Well, it appears you have put your talent for card playing to good use then, young man.” Mama stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “It is time to see if your talents at pie making are as good as we have been led to believe.”
Sarah adjusted a sleeping Lily on her shoulder. “Thank you for entertaining us. That was the most fun I’ve had in quite a while, but it’s time for two young ladies to go to bed.”
Chloe protested, but Joseph swooped her up in his arms. “Time for bed, Missy.”
“Please come back,” she called over her father’s shoulder. “You’re the best beau Aunt Roofie’s ever had.”
Ruth Ann kissed her niece on the forehead as she whisked by. “Let’s not make Mr. Coulter’s head swell, or it won’t fit through the door when he takes his leave.”
Benjamin patted the space beside him on the piano bench.
“I should help Mama with dessert, Ben.”
“C’mon. One minute won’t hurt.” Benjamin slipped the guitar strap over his head and leaned the instrument against the wall. “Dinner was delicious, Ruthie. I must admit I doubted whether or not you ladies could pull off such a fine meal without Myra’s help.”
Her posture stiffened “Well, it goes to show you that we are perfectly capable in the kitchen.”
“Whoa now.” His hands flew up in a defensive posture against her clipped words. “I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers. I just assumed because Myra cooks for your family, you wouldn’t need to learn such tasks.”
“Myra helps our family four days a week and Amos tends to the horses, garden, and handiwork, but Papa insisted we know how to run a house. ‘Help is a privilege,’ Papa said, ‘and you need to know how to do without.’” She crossed her arms snugly across her chest. “So, you see Benjamin Coulter, I do know how to cook, clean, sew, and plant a garden.”
He dragged a palm across the back of his neck. They’d pulled off one meal,
but day after day?
Her eyes narrowed. “I can cook, Ben. I can make eggs, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and chicken soup. And my biscuits, while not as fluffy as Myra’s, are definitely edible.”
The tap-tap-tap of Ruth Ann’s foot against the polished hardwood floors drew Benjamin’s gaze downward.
“If I was spoiled, Benjamin, I wouldn’t teach at the Freedmen’s School.”
He brushed a loose hair from her face. “I don’t believe you’re spoiled, sweetheart, but look around your parlor. You haven’t wanted for much of life’s necessities.”
Ruth Ann pressed her lips together as tightly as her arms were folded against her.
He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings or injure her pride. Buddy curled up at his feet, and he stroked the dog’s reddish-brown fur. At least the old dog wasn’t mad at him. If they married, her life would be vastly different from the one she enjoyed now. How am I going to make her understand?
“Ruthie, there’s a difference between making a nice meal a few times a year and being responsible for all of the family’s meals each day. Plus, all of the household chores Myra does and some that Amos does as well. Like tending the garden regularly.”
She didn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on her hands resting in her lap.
“I grew up very differently, Ruthie. I didn’t have any of the advantages that you’ve had.” He paused and waited for her to look at him.
“None of that matters, Ben.”
He covered her hands with one of his own. “What I’m trying to say is that everyone pulled their own weight in my family—no hired help. While I might be able to afford hired help on a surveyor’s salary, I’m not inclined to spend my money on such things—not if my wife is perfectly able.”
~*~
A faint creak enticed Ruth Ann to lean past the Grandfather clock and peer into the dining room. Her mother’s blue gown was visible below the swinging door to the kitchen. She shook her head. “I think Mama can hear us.”
Benjamin shrugged. “When I go west, I won’t be settling down in a town or even homesteading. I’ll be on the move three quarters of the year surveying and mapping the western territories. I’ll be living out of a tent and wagon. Are you ready for that?”
A Love Restored Page 13