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

by Cynthia Hickey

  She lived a good life, took care of her family, and helped the needy. What more did God want from her? She laid the tray across Luke’s lap. “I’m not one for church, Mister Powell.”

  “You’re on a first-name basis with my brother, why not me? Call me Luke, please.”

  “I only call your brother by his first name when I forget myself.”

  “You are a saucy one, aren’t you?” He spooned a mouthful of his oatmeal. “I’ve been in this bed, fever-free, for almost a week. When can I attempt to walk? It ain’t my legs that are hurt.”

  “We can try after breakfast.” Ruth went to the window and opened the curtains, letting in the warm, morning breeze.

  “You aren’t very talkative, are you?” Luke took a bite of oatmeal.

  She stared at him. Already, he’d lost his gaunt look. Maybe he’d like a shave to get rid of the bushy beard and any critters that lurked in the strands. She’d see whether Grandma felt like giving him one. “Is it idle conversation you’re wanting, or something more?” The last thing she wanted to do on a rare morning without a houseful of people was sit around and gossip with the town’s skirt-chasing mayor.

  He waved toward a rocking chair. “Sit while I eat. Have some coffee. A pretty face makes everything go down smoother.”

  “If you insist.” Ruth sighed, smoothed her skirt and perched in the chair. She grabbed a mug from the tray and poured it full of the aromatic brew. “What would you like to talk about?” Please, don’t get serious, or propose marriage, or dig too deep into my personal life.

  Luke grinned. “Are you aware that my brother is in love with you?”

  “Excuse me?” Ruth choked and lost her breath. Coffee spewed down the front of her dress. When she gained control, she forced words through her tortured throat. “You, sir, are mistaken. We’re nothing more than friends.”

  Luke waved his spoon at her. “No. He told me himself. I’m betraying a confidence as we speak.”

  “Then we should discontinue this conversation and you should hold your tongue. I’ll return for the tray later.” With a shaking hand, she returned the mug, then turned and rushed out of the room. Luke’s chuckle followed her.

  The man’s fever must have addled his brain. John, in love with her? Impossible. She dashed outside and to her favorite spot on the bluff. The lyrics of “Amazing Grace” drifted from the church at the end of Main Street. Soft and faraway, she could almost pretend the song came from heaven, where angels celebrated.

  Ruth stated time-and-time again she wasn’t interested in love and marriage. What was wrong with this place? They ought to hang a big sign declaring, “Get Hitched Here.” Didn’t the townsfolk have anything else to focus their attentions on? Gracious! She plopped to the ground in a cloud of dust. Her gaze drifted to the white clapboard church with the tiny steeple. Voices rose in harmony.

  Why hadn’t anyone mentioned John’s speaking this morning to her? Or had they, and she hadn’t been listening? That sounded the most probable. She really needed to slow down and pay attention to those closest to her.

  She pushed to her feet and moved toward the church. Maybe she’d poke her head in for a few minutes. Her boots kicked up red dust as she trudged in that direction. Several times she almost turned around and went home. No. She could do this. She didn’t even need to go inside. One little peek and her curiosity would be satisfied.

  “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” John’s deep voice reached her through the door. Ruth paused.

  “This is from the book of Proverbs. Now, y’all know I’m not a preacher, so I’m not going to stand up here and tell you what these words mean. Let’s open this verse up for discussion.”

  Ruth ducked away. Trust? How could she trust someone she couldn’t see? Someone who allowed horrible things to happen to those who loved Him? Maybe some folks could, but not her. She trudged back to the house, her head bent, and her mind filled with confusion.

  *

  Miriam said Ruth volunteered to sit with Luke, but John still held hope she’d drop in. He scanned the scanty crowd of church goers. His heart fell. He’d chosen the day’s verse with her in mind. If anyone needed to learn to trust God, it was Ruth Stallings. But a man couldn’t force a person to do something that made them uncomfortable. He turned his attention to a gentleman who spoke of trusting God when he received a telegram saying his son had gone missing during the war. He chose to believe his son lived, until he received word otherwise.

  John understood. He’d refused to believe Luke died, and now, his twin lay in his house’s upstairs bedroom, flirting with anything in skirts that happened to waltz into his room. John smiled. Like old times.

  The short service and fellowship complete, John stepped into the summer sunlight and slapped his hat on his head. The day promised to be a scorcher. Already, heat waves danced along the street and the humidity hung heavy. If he squinted, he could make out a fleck of blue calico on the front porch of Luke’s house. Ruth seemed to be enjoying her day of leisure. John would need to work on her making church a part of that.

  “That was the strangest, and most heart-warming church service I’ve attended in a long time.”

  John glanced down to a tiny bird-of-a-woman. He remembered her arrival a few days ago with her son and his wife. Refugees from Southern Arkansas and Mississippi, looking for a better place to live after the war. “Thank you. It fits our need when the preacher ain’t here.”

  She smiled and tapped his arm. “You ought to think about preaching yourself. You’d make a fine reverend. A wife wouldn’t hurt, either.”

  She tucked her tiny hand into the crook of her son’s elbow and practically skipped down the church steps.

  Yep, just like a bird.

  John chuckled at the notion of him being a minister. A gun-toting, badge-wearing, man of God. Well, he could do a lot worse. Maybe he could preach to the fellows he locked up on weekends. He laughed and strolled down the steps and toward home.

  He waved at the Widow Blye, who flashed him a grin, then turned toward her house. Several times he stopped to pass a few minutes with fellow church members before he finally arrived home, a grin still plastered to his face.

  “What’s so funny, Sheriff.” Ruth greeted him, a smile gracing her pretty face.

  John propped a foot on the bottom step, and balanced his elbow on his knee. “A little old lady told me I’d make a good preacher.”

  Ruth shrugged. “I can see you doing that.”

  “Really? Huh.” He loved the Lord with all his heart, but spreading the Gospel? He liked being the sheriff of Painted Bluff. He could serve the Lord and do his job at the same time. Still, the idea tickled him.

  “I stuck my head in the church long enough to hear the scripture you read.” Ruth rocked faster, avoiding his eyes.

  “You did?” His heart leaped. She had come. Just as he hoped. “What did you think?”

  “I thought you spoke on a subject that’s a little difficult to swallow.” She bounced from her seat. “I need to get lunch. Hopefully, the stew hasn’t burned to the bottom of the pot.”

  So, she still avoided the subject like the plague. He needed to figure out a way to get through the wall she’d built between her and God. Right now, his thoughts were as dry as a summer drought.

  Over lunch, which blissfully contained only him and the Stallings family, he studied Ruth. The smooth skin tanned the shade of pale honey, the hair with streaks of light shimmering through the strands, and the hard, haunted look in her amazing eyes. He wanted to help her. To point her into the arms of the One who could soothe her, and he hadn’t the foggiest notion how. Not until God broke through those barriers could John slip through and claim her heart.

  *

  Ruth laid her spoon beside her plate. “Grandma, Luke would like to try and get up for a few minutes today. Do you think that would be all right?”

  John met her gaze, a
furrow in his brow.

  “I think so, if John helps.” Grandma stood and gathered the empty dishes.

  John leaped up, the fast movement sending his chair crashing to the floor. “Really? He’s doing that well?”

  Ruth smiled. “The stitches are holding. There’s no overly amount of redness or swelling, and he’s like a bear in a cage. If you let him lean on you, I think he could stomach a while on the porch.”

  John bounded up the stairs. Ruth followed, her smile didn’t fade at the sight of the brothers whooping and hollering as Luke laid his arm around John’s stronger shoulders. “Be careful with him, John.”

  “Like a baby, Ruth.”

  Luke punched him. “Don’t you dare. I’ll do this standing, or not at all.”

  “How does it feel to be on your feet?” Ruth untangled the sheet from around his legs.

  “I’m as weak as a newborn colt, but it feels mighty good.”

  “Wonderful. How would you like a shave while you’re sitting?”

  “I would.” Luke winked. “As long as you’re the one giving it to me.”

  “Miriam will shave you, you scalawag.” John moved him toward the door.

  Ruth wasn’t sure, but she thought John whispered a warning to Luke about staying away from her. The room grew hot, and she fanned her face. She couldn’t encourage John, or Luke, for that matter. If John contemplated the ministry for even a second, he couldn’t look in her direction for a wife. Not after the sin she’d committed. And Luke was the mayor. No. He needed someone pretty and stylish to complement him. Not rough like her. No matter what Luke said about John’s supposed feelings.

  She followed them downstairs. John paused at the door.

  Luke pushed him away. “I want to walk through myself.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready to catch you, you fool.”

  Luke glanced over his shoulder. “I ought to punch you in the mouth.” A muscle ticked in his temple. “I’m nobody’s fool.”

  One side of John’s mouth curled. “I’d like to see you try. All I gotta do is take two steps back. You’re as weak as an infant girl.” He grinned at Ruth.

  Ah. Anger to strengthen his brother. She returned John’s smile and nodded.

  Luke squared his shoulders, shoved open the door, then took faltering steps to the porch. Outside, he lifted his face to the sun. “This is more like it.”

  “Help him to a seat, John. I’ll get the shaving supplies.” She left them in rockers, staring out at the street. Somebody yelled a hello, to which Luke responded.

  Ruth stepped into the kitchen where Grandma dumped the dishwater out the back door.

  “Guess he made it all right.”

  “John teased him until he didn’t have a choice but to make it the last few feet. He’s ready for a shave.” Ruth glanced around for her sisters. “Where’s Deborah and Sarah?”

  “They ain’t here. I sent them upstairs to air out the bedding.” Grandma set the dish pan down, then untied her apron. “Ain’t nothing worse than the smell of sickness. I’ll go shave the man now.”

  Ruth nodded “I’ll put the dishes away and join you in a bit.”

  She mulled over John’s comment about the ministry, and smiled. Wouldn’t he be a sight? Handsome as the devil and spouting scripture. Every single woman and her mother would be hanging on his every word.

  Within minutes, Grandma’s deep laugh drifted through the open windows. She could find joy in the simplest things. Ruth stilled. Was that her secret to such happiness? Contentment even among the mundane? Ruth tried to remember the last time her grandmother expressed sadness or depression.

  The death of Ruth’s parents. But within days, the smile had been back on Grandma’s face. Maybe a little smaller and sadder, but there, none-the-less.

  She’d have a serious talk with Grandma at the first opportunity. Find out the source of her joy.

  Chapter 17

  Within two weeks, Luke made small trips to town and resumed his duties as mayor. He used the parlor as his office, often closing himself behind a closed door for hours at a time, while he listened to grievances or suggestions.

  More families joined the town’s population, thrilled to know they could get a hot meal at Ruth’s Place once they stepped off the boat. Life settled into a routine. The most peaceful time since the death of Ruth’s parents.

  In one of Luke’s absences, she stood and surveyed the parlor for a moment. His heavy oak desk gobbled up space at the center. It was time to act on John’s romantic plan for the town. But how could she redesign Luke’s home now that he reclaimed the space? They’d lived there for a little over a month, but it wasn’t the Stallings’ home. It belonged to Luke. They needed their own place.

  After removing her apron, Ruth slapped her floppy hat on and headed down Main Street. During a previous trip, she’d noticed an empty house next to the mercantile. If she didn’t snatch it up soon, somebody else would. Especially once the Powell brothers got their wish of expanding the town. She smiled and waved at Moses, who hammered nails into the planks that would make up the wooden walks planned for both sides of the street.

  The folks from the river bottom still stayed mainly to themselves, but occasionally Ruth noticed one doing odd jobs around town. Most of the townsfolk left them be, some crossing to the other side of the street when one of the former slaves walked by. Ruth wanted to shout that the war was over. That it had been men wearing the Confederate uniform and the Union that killed her parents. Instead, she bit back the angry words and minded her own business.

  “’Morning, Miss Ruth.” Moses’s teeth flashed in his dark face.

  “Good morning, Moses. You’re doing a fine job with the boardwalk.”

  “Thank you kindly. What brings you to town?”

  “I’m looking for a new location for Ruth’s Place. I’m thinking the empty house by the mercantile. What do you think?”

  Moses stood and wiped his hands down his dungarees. “It’s got a kitchen. Not much of a dining room, but you could knock out a wall if y’all didn’t mind having your living quarters confined to upstairs. The parlor’s a good size. Let’s go take a look.”

  They walked together until they stood in front of the graying house. Ruth ran a hand along the rail that encased the sagging porch. “Who used to live here?”

  “A doc. Moved away when the war started. I think the house belongs to the bank now.”

  Ruth tested the step. When it didn’t collapse under her weight, she marched across the front porch and yanked at the door. It swung open and she stepped into cobwebs. She brushed them away and looked around. Inch-thick dust covered everything. Nothing a bucket and a broom couldn’t fix. She moved to the kitchen. A big stove! Grandma would be in heaven. Somebody living with the doctor had enjoyed cooking. With her hands on her hips, she turned in a slow circle.

  If they knocked out a wall to expand the dining, there still wouldn’t be a room for courting couples. “Moses!”

  He trotted to her side. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Could you build me another room off this one? Maybe half the size? And, if I paid you good, could you fix the porch and build me some furniture?”

  “I’d be right proud to. I’m handy with wood. I’ll get me some others to help, and you’ll be moved in within a week.”

  Ruth clapped her hands. “Wonderful. You’re hired. I’ll tell Luke to get someone else to build his boardwalks.” She’d visit the bank first thing about leasing the empty house.

  Moses’s laugh boomed through the empty house. “He won’t take kindly to that. I knows you excited, Miss Ruth, but I’ll be finished with those walks today. I’ll get started on your place early in the morning, if the bank says we can make the changes.”

  Her face heated. “Of course. I was being selfish.” She offered her hand. “Thank you. Do you think Tilly would be interested in a job? With my sister wanting to teach, I could use the help.”

  He stared for a moment before placing his black hand in hers. “My privilege to
help a lady such as yourself. I’ll send Tilly on the first morning you open back up.” With a nod, Moses left.

  Ruth held her arms out to her sides and twirled. Further independence! The idea of a job for Tilly came on the spur of the moment, but now it seemed like the solution to a problem. And it would help out a dear man’s family at the same time. She stopped at the sight of John leaning in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Dancing in my new home.” She waved her arm. “It’ll be perfect. Moses is going to build another room off here, we’ll live upstairs, and Luke can continue as mayor without us underfoot.”

  John’s countenance fell, wrenching Ruth’s heart. “Luke doesn’t mind. He likes having y’all around. So do I.”

  Why hadn’t she thought how it would feel to live away from him? To not see his face across the dinner table everyday? See his tall form stride across the yard to greet her with a dimpled smile? But with her out of the way, John could look for someone more suitable. She’d survive the initial heartache. Despite the stabbing pain in her chest, it was for the best.

  *

  John kept his hands shoved into his pockets on the walk back to the house in order to keep himself from reaching for Ruth’s. She chattered about the work she’d hired Moses to accomplish. The way she’d decorate the “couple’s” room with tablecloths and candles.

  He tried to look interested, when all he wanted to do was make her stop talking. He’d take care of her, so she wouldn’t have to work as hard. Why did he have to come up the stupid idea of a room for couples anyway? Who’d ever heard of such a thing? When he’d planned the room, he’d thought for certain he could try it out with Ruth.

  “I never thought I’d be so excited about the notion of romance.” Ruth skipped up the steps. “Not for me, of course, but think of all the people we can make happy.” She whirled and grinned. “And it was all your idea.”

  Good for him. Look where the idea got him; living a quarter-of-a-mile from Ruth. Seemed the closer he managed to get to her, relationship wise, the further she ran. “Well, it’ll be your eye for detail that will make it a reality.”