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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Grandma, where were the townsmen?” He couldn’t believe they’d desert the women.

  “I sent them away. Told them women needed privacy once in a while.”

  The fools. John would talk with each and every one of them. Didn’t the townsmen have any common sense? They knew the dangers of the mountain, even if the women didn’t.

  “And before you set yourself on fire,” Grandma added. “It took some doing to get them to go away. I had to act like, well, like I had female problems, truth be told, and I took a long time in the bushes. If I hadn’t gotten lost, we’d have been home by now, and you none the wiser.”

  John couldn’t believe her thick-headedness. He spun in his saddle. “That decision could have cost you your lives!”

  “Don’t speak to her that way.” Ruth clicked the reins to pull the wagon alongside his horse. “I had everything under control. I wouldn’t have a qualm about putting a bullet into that scoundrel’s heart.”

  The man she spoke about snickered. Ruth whirled to face him. “Would you like to try me again?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  John clinched his jaw. Ruth Stallings would be the death of him. He knew it.

  Chapter 10

  “I’ll get that, Miss Ruth.” Daniel Wilson took the bucket of scraps from Ruth’s arms, then grinned at Sarah, who peeked out the kitchen window. His cheeks flushed crimson beneath a thick carpet of freckles.

  The boy had been doing this all day—fetching wood, sweeping the front porch, whatever one of the sisters labored at until Ruth wanted to kick him out from under her feet like an unwelcome stray. She couldn’t fault his enthusiasm though.

  She swiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. “Thanks, Daniel.” She did appreciate his efforts. But did he need to hover so?

  The boy carried the bucket to the trash heap, dumped the assorted plate scrapings, then sprinted back. “Why don’t you give me a job, Miss Ruth? Then I can do this stuff for you all day. And you can stay in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t you have work to do on your family’s farm?” Ruth shook the flour and potato peelings from her apron and into the chicken pen. “We wouldn’t want to keep you from your own work.” The sheriff would pitch a fit.

  “Nah, I’ve got a passel of brothers at home. Besides, it ain’t time to harvest yet.” He leaped over the porch railing. “I’d rather be here with y’all.”

  With Sarah, he meant. “How much should I pay you?” Ruth met his earnest gaze. They could use the help, and Daniel seemed like a nice boy. Maybe if she kept him busy enough, he wouldn’t have time to make eyes at her youngest sister.

  “A quarter a day will be enough.” His face reddened even more as Sarah stepped from the house. Ruth feared his head would explode from the pressure. “I’m saving for a place of my own someday.”

  Goodness. Fall was months away. Seemed since they’d arrived, spring fever ran rampant through the town. Ruth shook her head and turned to her sister. “Where’s Deborah?”

  “Sitting on the front porch. There must be ten men gathered at her feet.” Sarah peered at Daniel beneath lowered lashes. “But the only one I want is right here.”

  Ruth grabbed her sister’s elbow. “Don’t be brash. Get in the house. There’s work to be done.” Her face heated. How could her sister talk in such a forward manner? And her, only fifteen. Ma would roll over in her grave if she saw the way Sarah acted with Daniel.

  Tempted to lock up her, Ruth released Sarah and waved her in first. Then she turned to Daniel. “You start tomorrow. But if I see anything fishy between you and Sarah, I’ll run you out of here with my broom.”

  His face paled, making the freckles stand out like cinnamon on rice. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ruth whirled and stormed in the kitchen to face her younger sister. Sarah stood with hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. What did she see in a boy just in the throes of manhood?

  “How dare you?” Sarah stamped her foot. “Daniel is my beau. Would you rather I held court like Deborah? Acting all high falutin’? She lets the men fawn all over her, but won’t accept the attentions of a single one.”

  “Don’t speak to me like that.” Ruth approached her until they stood nose-to-nose. “I’m your elder.”

  Sarah tossed her hair. “You’re my sister. Not my ma. I’m plenty old enough to get hitched, Ruth. Do you know how many proposals I got today?” She held up three fingers. “You keep pushing me, and I’m likely to say yes to Daniel this instant.”

  “You aren’t too big for me to paddle, young lady.” Oh, please don’t force my hand. What had gotten into her? Where’s the sweet, chubby baby that Ruth helped her ma raise?

  “I’d like to see you try.” Sarah balled her fists, hazel eyes flashing. “There ain’t a man in this town that would let anyone lay a hand on me. You’re just jealous because I’m prettier than you.”

  Jealous? Not likely. Finding a husband was the last thing on Ruth’s mind. Who’d want a sharp-tongued spinster, anyway? “Then I’ll whoop them too.” Her head pounded. “I don’t have time for such foolishness. Get out of here until you can act like a lady.”

  “You going to wallop me, Ruth?” John said.

  Her breath hitched. Ruth glanced over Sarah’s shoulder to where John leaned against the doorframe. “If I have to.”

  He tossed back his head and laughed. “That’d be fun. You might just be able to do it.”

  *

  John stepped aside as Sarah flounced past him and out of the room. The younger girl was wrong. At least in his eyes. He much preferred Ruth’s blue eyes with flecks of gold, and chestnut hair that looked soft as rabbit’s fur. With a lower lip slightly plumper than the top, her mouth begged to be kissed. Liquid fire burned through his veins. If he only had the nerve to attempt another kiss.

  “Don’t be impertinent.” Ruth shoved by him and to the sink. “I’d have to get my skillet to whoop you, and then stand on a stool. Even that might not dent your thick skull.”

  He chuckled. Despite his earlier misgivings about the Stallings women, he’d grown used to seeing the men follow the other women around town, leaving Ruth to him. Sparring with her had become a daily occurrence. Something he looked forward to, and would miss if the women left.

  “Let’s take a walk, Ruth.” The request surprised him as much as it did her.

  Her eyes widened. “Have you lost your mind? I have work to do.”

  Maybe he had lost control of his senses, but there wasn’t anything he wanted more than to stroll along the river in the late summer afternoon with the beautiful woman. See the tension ease from her face. Have a smile directed at him.

  “I can’t.” Ruth plunged her hands into soapy water. “Grandma’s already out with Hank. And I’ve a pile of dishes to wash, and supper to get on.”

  “After, then. It’ll be cooler.” He didn’t know why it meant so much to have her step out with him, but he held his breath waiting for her answer. “Want me to fetch your sisters to help? Why don’t you make them help more?”

  “They’re young.”

  “Even kids work hard in these mountains. You wouldn’t be asking too much.” Then, maybe she could relax a bit and have some fun with him.

  She paused, holding a dripping plate, and studied his face. “All right. I will.” The words seemed to drag past her lips. “After the men have eaten and the clean-up is done.” She blushed. The high color did much to heighten her pretty face. “I’d be honored to take a walk with you, John Powell.”

  “It’s a deal. I’ll be back to pick up supper for the prisoners in an hour. I’ll see you then.” He slapped his hat on his head and strolled out the front door, trying not to draw attention to Daniel and Sarah beside the house, in a near embrace, whispering. Ruth might as well get used to it. With so few women in Painted Bluff, and her sisters as pretty as flowers, attention would never be in short supply. He did toss the pair a glare for good measure, though. The girls ought to help out more without Ruth having to
harp on them.

  He tipped his hat at Grandma, who giggled at something wiry Hank said. John would bet his horse there’d be a marriage before too long.

  “Sarah!”

  John cringed at Ruth’s sharp cry, then grinned, glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of her tongue. This time, at least. He stroked his chin, and the growth rasped against his callused fingers. Maybe he’d get a shave before their walk. Wouldn’t hurt to look his best, even though the walk was nothing more than a friendly gesture. Something to help the overworked woman relax.

  Then, maybe she’d tell him what drove her to work so hard.

  *

  Ruth leaned against the counter and hung her head. Her recent battle with Sarah sapped her of the last ounce of energy she needed to get supper going. Why couldn’t Sarah be less headstrong, and more like Deborah; sweet, and willing to please? If Sarah’s heart was set on a man, why couldn’t it have been someone older? Daniel couldn’t be more than seventeen—barely a year older than stubborn Sarah. He still had years before he could properly care for a wife and family, or offer security and protection. Did Sarah want to live with the boy’s family and help cook and clean for a passel of men?

  Supper finished, and the last of the cleaning done, Ruth glanced out the window, relieved to see the sun setting. John would arrive soon. She’d need to hurry and warm the two plates of stew she’d set aside for him. And she’d be a fool to deny a walk in the cool evening air would be pleasant. Even better would be an opportunity to disappear alone for a few minutes. Privacy was worth the price of gold in this town.

  Two men passed the house, shouted hello, and waved at her through the window. She forced a smile and turned to fill the plates. After dropping a roll on each one, she carefully set the completed dinners on the table and sat down to wait.

  “What are you doing?” John leaned against the doorpost.

  Ruth jerked out of her stupor and folded her arms. “Nothing. I’m doing absolutely nothing.”

  He crossed the room in long strides. “Are you feeling all right?” He stretched a hand toward her forehead, hesitated, and then shoved it in his pocket.

  “Yes, why?”

  “You never do nothing.”

  She smirked. “Well, I thought it was about time.” Ruth rose and grabbed a still-warm plate in each hand. “Shall we deliver these and have our walk?”

  He frowned. “If you’re sure you’re all right.”

  Goodness. Couldn’t a woman take a break without someone thinking she’s half dead? “Of course, I’m sure.”

  John took the plates from her. “I’ll let the men out in the morning. There’ll be no need to cook them breakfast.”

  “That’s good.” As if meals for two men would make a difference in the hundred she’d served. She cocked an eyebrow. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. He turned to lead the way out the front door. They strolled in silence down Main Street. Men tipped their hats or nodded as they passed. A breeze blew across the fine sheen of perspiration on her skin, and left Ruth wishing she’d thought to bring her shawl.

  She cast a glance at John in his rolled-up sleeves. Of course he wouldn’t feel the nip in the air. Warmth radiated from his body, kissing the skin on Ruth’s bare arm. She moved a step away and transferred her attention to the jail, anxious to get her thoughts off the man beside her.

  The eager prisoners waved their arms through the bars of the window. “Supper!”

  “Hiram. Buford.” John handed them their dinners. “Hope y’all have had time to think about the circumstances that got you in here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hiram shoved half the biscuit in his mouth. “Ask the pretty lady before you try stealing a kiss.” He winked at Ruth.

  She laughed. “I’d probably still try to shoot you.”

  “But I’d die a happy man.”

  John’s chuckle joined in. “That’s enough, Hiram. Might be best for you to stay out of the saloon instead.”

  “Yes, sir. My wife’s pretty mad. She was spitting nails yesterday because I haven’t been home to get the east field turned over.”

  “You’re married?” Ruth’s face heated. She shoved her clinched fists into her skirt pockets. “Of all the—”

  “Oh, she’ll get over it. She knows how I am when I’ve been drinking. There’s no harm done.” He waved a spoon in the air. “I’ll buy her a pretty bauble, and we’ll be fine.”

  John took Ruth’s arm and steered her away. “Let’s walk on the bluff by the river.”

  “Before I take his head off, you mean? Of all the low-down, dirty—”

  “Something like that.” He grinned at her, causing her heart to skip a beat as he lowered his hand to her waist.

  For a moment, she forgot about her resolve to swear off men.

  Chapter 11

  John helped Ruth to a sitting position, and she dangled her feet over the bluff. The wind off the river should’ve chilled her, but John’s close proximity kept her blood rushing. She hoped her face wasn’t as red as the setting sun. She closed her eyes and tilted her chin. A breeze whispered through her hair and blew her cares away.

  When John adjusted his weight, pebbles fell over the cliff face, clinking their way to the water. “What do you want out of life, Ruth?”

  She opened her eyes. “That’s a difficult question. What happened to light conversation?”

  “It’s an honest question.”

  Maybe. But it didn’t make her any more eager to answer. She shrugged. “Peace, I guess. Safety. Enough money to feel secure.”

  He sighed. “Most women would’ve said a home, husband, and family.”

  “I already have two of the three you mentioned. And I’m not in a hurry to get the other.” Ruth pleated the folds of her skirt. Why didn’t she want a husband? Her sisters couldn’t wait to get married. Grandma either, for that matter.

  She flashed back to the sight of her parents lying dead in front of their burning farmhouse. They shared a love more precious than anything Ruth had ever seen. She suffered no illusions about someone caring deeply enough to die for her. From her viewpoint in the towering corn field, and her parents’ outstretched hands, it’d been easy to deduce her father had run in from the fields to try to save his wife. Ruth blinked back tears. Yes, they’d shared something rare.

  If she succumbed to finding a husband, and he didn’t match the standard her father set for her, she’d be stuck in an unhappy situation with no way out. Better to be a spinster than wish she’d never married in the first place. She wanted someone who loved her enough to die for her, if the situation warranted.

  She studied John’s profile—his chiseled lips, strong chin, and lashes long enough to cast shadows on his cheeks. If she were in the market for a good-looking man, he’d be her top choice. Of course looks wouldn’t matter if he tried telling her what to do. She wanted a man who’d be her partner, like her parents had been for each other. But could she trust him? So far, he’d kept his anger in check, but if he lost it, just that once, and she was on the receiving end?

  No, thanks. She’d seen a seemingly loving neighbor beat his wife enough that she rarely left their shanty.

  “What do you want out of life, Sheriff?”

  He grinned. His teeth flashed through the deepening night. “All the things you don’t want.”

  “News around town is that you’ve been burned.” She searched his face. “That you’ve sworn off women. Until me, of course.” She smirked.

  “That’s in the past.” His smile faded. “People in this town talk too much. Someday, now that the war’s over, and when I’ve finished building my house, I’d like to settle down, have a passel of kids. I’m not getting any younger.”

  Well, she wouldn’t be the one to give him those things. “Guess you’d better start lookin’, Sheriff. I think I spotted a couple of grey hairs earlier.”

  John laughed and leaned back on his hands. “Oh, I have begun looking, Miss Ruth. I have.”

&nbs
p; Gracious! “I’m ready to go home. It’s getting dark.”

  John unfolded his tall frame and reached hand to pull her to her feet. Instead of releasing her, he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. With each step, Ruth brushed against him. Horses galloped through her stomach. Perspiration dotted her upper lip. This man was far too dangerous for them to spend time alone.

  She’d worked too hard to become self-sufficient over the past few months. She couldn’t afford to let a man to mess things up. Not even a handsome one that sent her senses into a spin.

  When they reached the front porch, John swept off his hat and bowed. “Until morning, Miss Stallings. I’ll pick you up for church.”

  Ruth dashed into the house, up the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door behind her. She leaned against the sanded wood. What just happened? If she didn’t know how much she rubbed John Powell the wrong way, she’d think he was interested in her. No, most likely, it was nothing more complicated than him needing someone to talk to. But his smile…

  Church! His last remark had skittered on the wind like an autumn leaf, only to drift back to its intended resting place. She hadn’t attended church since her parents died. God would most likely strike her with lightning the moment she set foot in His house.

  How had she gotten herself in such a mess? She groaned and shuffled her way to the bed before flopping on her side. Deborah grunted in her sleep and rolled to her stomach.

  And to make matters worse, they’d agreed to close the café on Sundays. How could she have forgotten? Now, an entire day loomed with nothing to do but devise a plan to get out of going to church. She had no desire to worship a God who’d taken her parents away in as cruel a fashion as He did.

  *

  It seemed as if her eyes closed seconds before Deborah shook her awake. “Come on, sleepyhead. The sheriff’s downstairs eating breakfast right now.”

  “I’m not going.” Ruth pulled the covers over her head.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”