Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Say the blessing, John.” Widow Blye took her seat.

  “Lord, we thank You for Your bountiful gifts. Take this food as nourishment to our bodies as Your Word nourishes our souls. Amen.” John lifted his fork and did his best to ignore the feminine chatter.

  Widow Blye clicked her fork against her dish. “So, what brings you four to our fair town?”

  “The war—” The grandmother started to speak.

  “A change of pace,” Ruth said, tossing her grandma a look he interpreted as a warning.

  “It’s no secret, Ruth.” Miriam shook her head. “Bushwhackers took my son and his wife. Killed them in the fields while they worked. We sold what was left and came here. Ruth has been caring for the rest of us ever since. A big burden, but she’s done wonderfully.”

  “It hasn’t been that bad, Grandma.” Ruth bent over her plate. “Thank you for the supper, Widow Blye.”

  “Call me Dorcas. John here refuses to use my Christian name. I insist you do so.”

  “It’s not respectful.” He regretted the words immediately as five sets of eyes gazed in his direction.

  “Silly boy. We don’t set on formalities in these mountains.” She faced Ruth. “What do you plan to do now?”

  “We’ll find work.”

  John leaned back and crossed his arms. “Not much work for women in Painted Bluff. At least not the type of work I’ll allow in my town. Besides, most come here looking for a husband.”

  “Not me.” Ruth pushed away from the table and carried her plate to a bucket on the shelf. “I just want a job.”

  “We could take in sewing and laundry,” Miriam spoke up. “There must be a need for it.”

  Anything the women chose to do would serve a need. John smirked. Even if there wasn’t one to begin with. “Maybe, but now that the war’s over, times are more difficult. We’ve been lucky, tucked away in these hills like we’ve been. Haven’t had a serious skirmish in almost a year.”

  Not that he’d fought in many battles. Having chosen the side of the Union, it took most of the two years since he’d returned home for John to earn back the trust of the people in Painted Bluff. A Confederate bullet injured him, which probably helped. Folks thought he’d already paid his dues.

  Finished, he pushed back his chair. “Thanks for the meal, Widow.” John rose and retrieved his hat. He reached to open the door.

  “John?” The widow’s words stopped him. “The Stallingses are going to need a home. What about that place your brother left behind?”

  Chapter 2

  Ruth rose from the floor in her corner of the room and popped the kinks from her back. She felt more like Grandma’s age of fifty-six. She rubbed her stiff neck and pushed to her feet. Her sisters’ lay curled against each other in the opposite corner. “Hey, girls; get up.”

  When they didn’t move, Ruth shrugged and headed toward the kitchen nook. With Dorcas’ kindness the night before, the least Ruth could do was get breakfast started. She went to the fireplace and stirred the embers. The reddish glow reminded her of the fiery look on the sheriff’s face last night when their hostess mentioned his brother’s house. Well, Ruth had no intention of accepting the offer. She wouldn’t impose.

  Dorcas rose from her cot. “Good morning, Ruth. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Fair. Thank you.” She straightened and stretched her spine. “I’d like to help with breakfast to pay for your kindness.”

  Dorcas waved a hand. “No need, but I’ll be glad for the company. Henhouse is out back, if you don’t mind gathering eggs. Basket is on a nail by the door.”

  Ruth nodded and shuffled outside. Jewel-toned finches and a mockingbird serenaded from the oak and yellow pine trees. She closed her eyes and turned her face to enjoy the slight breeze. After the cloying humidity of Mississippi, the somewhat drier air felt wonderful. Still heavy, but not oppressive. A favorable mark to settle down in Painted Bluff. She opened her eyes and sighed.

  Five men, ranging from about fifteen to sixty, waved at her from the other side of the split-rail fence. How could she get rid of the audience?

  She took a deep breath and stepped inside the dim chicken house. The noxious odor of droppings assaulted her, and she quickened her pace. She’d rather risk getting pecked than be on display like a side of ham. Holding her breath against the stench, she retrieved one egg after another until she filled her basket.

  Stepping outside, she gasped. Gracious, did the courting ever stop?

  Grandma leaned against the fence, folded arms on the top, cackling as the men told jokes. She waved at Ruth. “Come on over and say howdy!”

  Ruth shook her head and scurried to the house. The door smacked shut behind her.

  Dorcas laughed and took the basket. “Better get used to it. Even at my age, I get at least two proposals a week. Imagine! You’ll run through every man in town, then they’ll start all over.”

  No, thank you. Marriage did not make the list of what Ruth wanted for her future. “Why haven’t you remarried?”

  “My Howard was the love of my life. Can’t see wedding anyone else.” She cracked eggs into a cast iron skillet. “Taking care of the sheriff is good enough for me. And opening my home, humble though it is, to what few visitors we get, is satisfying.”

  Ruth retrieved the plates from a shelf. “The sheriff didn’t seem overly excited to see us.”

  “No, he wouldn’t be. The man’s a bit gun-shy where the fairer women are concerned, and he’s very protective of his town.” Dorcas set the pan next to the fire. “He was engaged about a year ago. Seems she decided she didn’t cotton to being the wife of a lawman, much less one who’d returned from the war wounded.”

  “I noticed his limp. It isn’t bad at all.”

  “Bad enough for her, I guess. Anyway, she wanted more money for fancy clothes. A man came to town wanting to open a saloon. Sheriff ran him off and his fiancé went too. She wanted more than this town could give her. Sheriff ain’t got over that. Sometimes wounds are too deep to see.”

  No reason to punish them all because of one fickle woman. Ruth refrained from slamming the plates on the table. Good manners were good manners, whether someone’d spurned you or not. And the sheriff acted downright rude at supper.

  “He’s a good-looking man, that one.”

  “Who?” Ruth faced Dorcas.

  “The one you’re mumbling about.” Dorcas grinned.

  Ruth’s face heated. She couldn’t deny she’d noticed John Powell was pleasing to look at.

  “John should be here any minute to escort you to his brother’s place.”

  “I haven’t said I’m interested.”

  “At least take a look. It’s a big house. Some fool built it for his woman, then moved on when she didn’t like the isolation. You might be able to open a place for travelers to stay. My cabin is too small. Although I will miss the company.”

  “Why isn’t his brother staying there?”

  “Went to war. Last report was, he’s missing. Presumed dead.”

  Ruth’s heart melted toward the ill-tempered sheriff. He’d suffered his share of blows—something they had in common. His face rose to the forefront of her mind. He’d looked like a little boy asked to give up his only toy when Dorcas had recommended his brother’s place. She sighed, then shook off the feeling of sympathy. No sense getting soft. Not when she had a living to make, and a family to watch out for.

  By the time the smoky scent of frying bacon filled the cabin, Deborah and Sarah climbed from beneath their blankets.

  “My back is aching and I think I’ve got a bruise on my hip.” Deborah rolled her shoulders. “That floor is hard.”

  Ruth slammed a plate on the table harder than she should. “Ma taught you better than to complain when someone offers you a place to lay your head. At least you didn’t spend another night on the deck of a keelboat.”

  Deborah’s cheeks brightened. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Dorcas. That was rude of me.”

  Dorcas grinned and waved
away her apology. “Eat up, so y’all can look at the sheriff’s house.”

  Ruth supposed it wouldn’t hurt to look. She could buy it if the price was right and give her sisters a more permanent home.

  Footsteps crunched outside, and she turned to the window. Sheriff Powell and Grandma leaned against the fence. grabbed another plate as he strode through the door, smiling at something her grandmother said. So, it was possible for him to have a pleasant look on his face.

  Her heart hitched at the transformation. Strong, white teeth flashed in a tanned face. Thick hair the color of wheat bore the indentation of his hat. Sapphire eyes that crinkled at the corners sparkled at Grandma.

  “You’re just in time for breakfast.” Dorcas bustled over and grasped his arm. “Sit. We’ve already started.”

  “I came to show the house.” His smile faded as he locked gazes with Ruth.

  What did he have against her? She wasn’t the one who broke his heart. She slapped a serving of eggs onto his plate. “It can wait until you’ve eaten,” Ruth said.

  “Thanks.” He frowned as she tossed a few strips of bacon on top of the eggs.

  Ruth fetched a cup for coffee, filled it, and set it beside his plate. The man’s shoulders slumped as if he carried the weight of the world. What could be bearing down on him so hard? She shook her head. The last thing she needed was to take responsibility for yet another person.

  After the sheriff wolfed down his food, he rose and speared Ruth with a glance. “Ready?”

  Her fork clattered to her plate. “I guess so.” She grabbed the last strip of bacon. “Grandma, come with us.”

  “Glad to.” Miriam rose with a grunt. “Deborah, Sarah, y’all help Mrs. Blye.”

  “But I wanted to go!” Pink tinged Sarah’s cheeks.

  “Mind me, now.” Grandma shuffled her way out the door and through the throng of men milling around outside. She waved her apron at them as if they were a flock of chickens. “Go on. Enough foolishness for today.”

  Ruth followed the sheriff outside. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The crowd quieted and turned toward him. “You heard the lady. Move.”

  “Aww, sheriff.” A portly man spit a blade of straw from his mouth. “We just want an eyeful of the pretty girls.”

  The moaning continued as the crowd dispersed. Ruth shook her head. Silly things. “What’s the attraction?”

  John glanced at her. “Not often we get a shipment of ‘pretty girls.’”

  He thought she was pretty? Cotton filled her mouth. People rarely used that word to describe her. Her sisters, yes. Most folks described Ruth as comely. Her cheeks heated, and she patted a stray strand of hair into place.

  A buckboard, hitched to a dappled grey, waited next to the fence. Grandma climbed up and positioned herself in the middle. Rather than sit in the small space left on the bench, Ruth pulled herself to the back.

  John jumped onto the seat and flicked the reins. “The house ain’t far.”

  Maybe not, but the thick silence rang against Ruth’s eardrums. If the man was so reluctant for them to see the place, why take them? It wasn’t like anyone was forcing him. He didn’t seem the type to let anyone badger him, much less the Widow Blye.

  They bounced through wagon wheel ruts down the town’s only street. Several buildings sported boarded up windows. The only ones still in business seemed to be the mercantile, saloon, and jail. Ruth sighed. It might be more difficult to make a living than she’d thought.

  She straightened when they pulled up in front of a whitewashed, two-story home at the opposite edge of town from the widow’s. Ruth’s eyes widened and she fingered the coins in her purse. They’d never be able to buy such a place.

  The sheriff stepped down, then turned to offer a hand to her and Grandma. “It’s got all the furniture you need. Has a large dining room and living area. Four bedrooms upstairs. Well water as sweet as sugar pumped right into the kitchen. Also has a wood-burning stove.”

  Ruth cut him a sideways glance. “You sure you want to sell it?”

  “Sell?” He shook his head. “No, but I’ll lease it to you until my brother comes home.”

  “The widow said—”

  “He’s not dead. As close as we are, I’d know if he was.” He glared at her. “Do you want the place or not?”

  Ruth marched to the front porch and tried the door. It swung open easily at her touch. She stepped into a large hallway with a massive dining room to her left, and a modest sitting room to her right. Stairs straight ahead led to the second story. It would be perfect. She turned back to John.

  “Yes, and I’d like to run an eating establishment. Would that be all right with you?”

  *

  John almost choked. “You mean, like a restaurant?” Why would she want to do a fool thing like that? The men would bombard her. “Why?”

  “The way folks are around here, I don’t think I’d have a bit of trouble having them pay for a home-cooked meal.” She cocked her head. “Well, do we have a deal? I’ll pay you five dollars a month. If I can’t make a go of it, we’ll move on.” She tapped her foot. Fire flashed from her blue eyes.

  She might be the prettiest gal he’d ever seen, but Ruth Stallings seemed as prickly as a briar bush. Might as well let her have a try at her foolish idea. He thrust out his hand. “Deal.”

  “Wonderful.” She returned his handshake and headed around the corner of the house.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check out that little house. I might decide to live there and rent out the upper rooms.”

  He shot out a hand and grabbed her arm to stop her. “That’s my place.”

  She took a deep breath and looked like she was counting before staring at his hand. He released her as if he’d catch fire. “You … live … here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She whirled with a swish of her skirts. “The deal is off.”

  “Why?” He stopped her. “What difference does it make if I live fifty feet from the main house? Besides, you shook on it. That’s a contract where I come from.”

  “Look, Mister Powell.” She yanked free. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it won’t work. I’m not interested in finding a man, and I won’t let anyone tarnish my reputation. We can’t live that close together.”

  His face heated. Of all the – “And I’m not interested in being the fool man that gets trapped by you! Besides, don’t you think your grandmother and sisters will be chaperonage enough?”

  She crossed her arms and gave him a look stern enough to set him back a step. “I suppose, but one false move from you, and we’ll be out of here faster than ice melts in July. Tell the town we’ll open for business in three days. I’m calling it Ruth’s Place. There’ll be a notice posted tomorrow.” With a swish of her skirts, she marched out the door.

  He bit back a laugh. The girl was no bigger than a minute, but contained all the flame of a roaring fire. He pitied the man who got the job of taming her.

  By the time he approached the buckboard, Grandma Stallings sat in the front seat. He didn’t see Ruth.

  Miriam jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “She decided to walk into town. Said we needed supplies.”

  “She’ll need the wagon to carry them back.” John shook his head. “She’s a contrary little thing, isn’t she?”

  “Had a hard time of it.” Miriam lifted the hem of her apron and dabbed at her eyes. “Sold the farm, salvaged what little she could, and took us as far as we could go. Here we are.” She looked him up and down. “You might not be wearing a uniform, but you still hold yourself stiff like you are. You might want to relax around Ruth. She don’t cotton to soldiers much.”

  “She sympathized with the Confederacy?”

  “No, if she was a man, she would’ve fought with the Union. The bushwhackers wore uniforms from both sides. Ruth’s a little skittish around the blue or the gray.”

  He understood. He wore the pants on purpose to signify to his town
that the war was over. That the same John Powell they knew since he wore short pants kept the town peaceful.

  John clicked his tongue to signal the horses to move. Ruth carried a heavy burden on her shoulders. Most likely the reason for her hard-as-nails attitude. He sympathized with her, but someone needed to teach the woman manners. Someone other than him, that is. “Plenty of men here would be more than happy to take care of y’all.”

  Miriam laughed through her tears. “And have their helping hand bit clean off by my bulldog-of-a-granddaughter. We like to let her think she does everything on her own.”

  John chuckled. “You’re most likely right.” He looked forward to seeing how Ruth intended to fend off the suitors. She just might provide him some entertainment after all. She shore was good to lay eyes on. As long as the women didn’t get the men too riled up. He didn’t want them slacking on keeping up their farms. He’d see what the girls could do before making a decision whether he wanted them in his town or not.

  They pulled up in front of the mercantile, and he leaped down to assist Miriam. “I’ll wait outside.”

  “Much obliged.” She elbowed her way through the crowd. “Doesn’t anyone work around here?”

  Within minutes, a line of men loaded the wagon bed with dry goods, a basket of eggs, and butter. John shook his head. Ruth would be lucky if the men allowed her to dirty her hands by cooking.

  She climbed up beside them, ignoring the offered help, with a face as red as a strawberry. “This is utter nonsense.”

  “Yep.” John set the wagon in motion. The arrival of the Stallings women would make for interesting times. He glanced sideways, taking in her smooth profile. Freckles dotted a nose over skin so fair that he could see the veins beneath her jaw. A classic beauty if storybooks were any example. Yes, sir.

  Too bad he wasn’t interested.

  Chapter 3

  Tinny music and raucous laughter drifted through the swinging door of the saloon. Ruth tacked the advertisement as close to the opening as she dared. It surprised her that such an uppity sheriff would allow such a place in his town. She wouldn’t, if she had the choice. With a sweep of her skirts, she pounded her way down the sidewalk. The crowd following grew with every notice she posted, reaffirming the fact her business would boom. With her last post at the general store, there should be plenty of exposure for Ruth’s Place.