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

by Cynthia Hickey

  She turned a shimmery gaze his direction. A soft smile graced her lips. “I know it will, John.”

  Chapter 24

  Ruth fingered a bolt of emerald green taffeta. She needed a new gown for Grandma’s impending wedding, but taffeta would be too hot for an Ozark mountain summer. Instead, silently rejoicing in the fact that Hank’s supplies of fabric had increased since their arrival, she headed for a forest green calico dotted with sprigs of rose and periwinkle. A little lace, and the dress would suffice.

  “That’ll look mighty purty on you, Ruth.” Hank accepted the bolt. “Your sisters were in a few days ago to select their fabrics. You’re cutting things awful close, aren’t you?”

  She gave him a thin smile. “I’ve been busy with the restaurant, Hank. You know that.”

  “You work harder than most men. You need to have some fun once in a while.”

  She accepted his words as a compliment and browsed while he cut and wrapped her purchase. The bell jingled over the door, and she turned as John strolled in. Her heart leaped and she turned away before he could read the range of emotions on her face. John’s presence set her into a spin every time she saw him. Her gaze followed him like someone dying of thirst, and he was the only glass of water around.

  “Howdy, Hank. I’ve come to take a look at that hat. Morning, Ruth.”

  “Good morning, John.” She straightened her shoulders and faced him.

  “Can you excuse me a minute, Ruth?” Hank’s face wrinkled with his grin.

  “Sure, I can. I’ve got time before lunch. I’ll browse a bit more.”

  “It’s right here, sheriff.” Hank gestured to a tan hat resting on a hat rest.

  John frowned. “What is it? It’s big.”

  “Why, this is called Boss of the Plains. Look at that round crown. It’s got a four-inch brim and a four-inch crown. This here strap is genuine leather. Why, all the cowboys in Texas are wearing them, I hear. I saw an ad and knew it was the hat for your, sheriff.”

  “Texans, huh?” John placed it on his head and moved to peer in a mirror. “But why’s it got such a big brim?”

  “In case you want to wear ribbons.”

  John whirled. “Why would I want to wear ribbons on my hat? I’m not one of them fancy dudes back east!” He whipped off the Stetson and slammed it on the counter.

  Ruth giggled. “I’m sure it’s just an expression, John. I thought it looked fine. Very fitting for a sheriff.” She told the truth. With a man of John’s stature, the large hat looked made for him.

  “Really?” He chewed the inside of his cheek, then turned back to Hank. “Okay, I’ll take it. How much?”

  “Only five dollars.”

  “Five dollars!”

  Ruth laughed again. “Fashion comes with a hefty price tag.”

  When John focused his sky-blue eyes her way, her insides square-danced. She blushed and moved to the cash register. “You’ll have all the young ladies following you around.”

  He stood close enough behind her to tickle the back of her neck when he spoke. Her skin tingled, and she fought the urge to lean back into him. “I don’t want all the young ladies. Only one.”

  Gracious. Her legs weakened. “I think I’m ready to pay now, Hank.”

  “I’ll put it on your tab, if you want.”

  “Thank you.” She grabbed the fabric and bolted outside as if hounds from hell were after her. John’s deep laugh followed her out the door.

  She hopped off the sidewalk and quick stepped up the street. John didn’t act like their earlier conversation swayed his opinion one bit. How could he still be interested in a murderer? Ruth gasped. Would he have to arrest her now that he knew for sure what she’d done?

  The sound of hammers against wood reached her ears. The church would be complete soon. Yep, Ruth seriously needed to contemplate on whether Painted Bluff would be her permanent home. She didn’t know if she could stay, seeing John every day.

  The thought sent her heart into a spiral. She loved the little mountain town. Every week another family arrived to claim deserted land. More and more women in colorful calico dresses dotted the street, adding color to the deep greens of the trees and the rust of the clay dirt. The town now looked like a place folks wanted to settle.

  She sighed and shuffled up Luke’s porch. Time was wasting. She’d have a couple of hours after lunch to at least get her new dress cut out.

  *

  “You ought to get hitched to that gal,” Hank told John.

  “I’d like to, but she’s holding back. Ruth’s as skittish as an unbroken mare.” John fingered the brim of his new hat. Foolish purchase. First time in his entire life, he bought something because a woman said it looked good. What he needed was a new shirt. He eyed a couple of pre-made ones. One in blue, the other in green.

  “Guess the thing for you to do,” Hank leaned his elbows on the counter and peered at John beneath bushy brows. “Is decide whether you think she’s worth the difficult chore of breaking her.”

  “She’s worth it, all right.” Of course he didn’t want to break her, at least not her spirit. Her feistiness was one of the things he loved most about Ruth Stallings. He slapped the Stetson on his head, then pointed at the shirts. “Those my size?”

  “Yep. Your brother ordered them.”

  “Then order him some more. I’ll take them.” He waited for Hank to wrap the shirts, then strolled from the mercantile.

  He didn’t want to head home and see Ruth yet, and if he turned toward the church he’d most likely wind up with a paintbrush in his hand. With the way the town grew in the last couple of months, he ought to find an office for himself. One with a regular jail. Maybe he could build on the empty lot at the end of the street.

  His boots clunked as he marched in that direction. As far as he knew, Luke owned the property. It wouldn’t be hard to build three rooms. One for his office and two more with bars on the sides. He’d have to have the iron shipped in. Yeah, that’d make a right fine jailhouse.

  “Howdy, sheriff.” Moses set down the buckets of whitewash he held. “Going to be nice to have a church again. Maybe we can get some help to build one down our way.”

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “That’s a fine hat.”

  John tugged on the brim. “Supposed to be what they’re wearing in Texas.”

  Moses laughed. “It’s big enough to keep the rain out of your face, for sure.”

  “That it is.” John crossed his arms. “I’m envisioning a jailhouse here. Something other than the abandoned shed I’ve been using. I’d hire you to help build it.”

  “I’ve got one better for you, sheriff.” Moses’s teeth flashed in his dark skin. “You let me set up a blacksmith shop next door, and I’ll build your bars and your building for free.”

  “You’re a farrier?” John couldn’t believe his good fortune. “Praise the Lord, Moses. What other talents do you have hidden? Know anything about getting a woman to come to her senses?”

  He shook his head. “If I knew that, I’d be a rich man.”

  John shook his hand. “You build your blacksmith, Moses. And I’ll still pay you for the bars. I’ll be your first customer. The way folks are flocking here, you’ll have more business than you know what to do with.”

  “You think so? You think they’ll come with me being a slave?”

  “You aren’t a slave anymore.” John clapped him on the shoulder. “Folks need you, Moses. They’ll come.” He turned and headed home. He needed time to devise a plan to get Ruth to come to him, rather than him doing all the chasing.

  And he had the perfect idea. Hopefully, it’d work.

  *

  Ruth served the last of the beef and corn and stretched her aching back. John’s laugh rang out from the dining room. The fact he ate with the men instead of in the kitchen as was his norm, stabbed her heart with a hat pin. Why should she care? That’s what she wanted, right? Maybe he’d finally gotten through his thick skull the fact they had no future tog
ether. That he needed to set his sights on someone else. Deborah’s giggle drifted through the door. Not her sister!

  Good grief. Ruth switched sides faster than a cyclone.

  “Sure, I’ll meet you outside after the meal is cleaned up.”

  Ruth barged through the door in time to see Deborah’s hand brush across John’s shoulder with the gentleness of a mother with her babe. Her heart fell. Just as she feared. With Ruth off-limits, John moved to the next best thing: Deborah.

  Tears threatened, and Ruth backed into the kitchen before anyone could see her. How could John be so cruel? He had to know how pursuing a member of her family would make her feel, didn’t he? Ruth sagged into a chair. Maybe not. She’d never professed to love him. Just to a physical attraction. She, herself, had entertained the idea of Deborah as a sheriff’s wife. How could she fault John for seeing the same thing? Oh no. What had she done?

  She lifted her apron and buried her face in the limp muslin, inhaling the scent of meat and yeast. It was her fault John set his eyes on Deborah. Ruth couldn’t keep turning the man away then all of a sudden decide to set her cap for him and expect him to fall at her feet.

  Fine. She straightened. She’d make the most of things. Be glad for her sister should a romance blossom between her and John. Besides Luke, John was the best man in the mountains, and definitely more settled than his brother. Oh, Deborah, why couldn’t you have kept your attentions on Luke anyway?

  The chatter of her family as they cleaned failed to draw Ruth from her melancholy. She wanted to slap herself. This was what she wanted! So, why did sadness drape her like a wool shawl?

  “There.” Deborah whipped off her apron. “I’m finished and have promised our handsome sheriff a walk.” She peered at Ruth. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Why would I mind? He’s free to walk with anyone he chooses.”

  Deborah grinned. “That’s what he said. I’ll see y’all in a while.”

  Grandma frowned and clamped her lips in a straight line, clearly displeased with the turn of events. Ruth whirled and stormed out the back door. She started to head toward the bluff, then switched directions and fled into the woods. She couldn’t bear to see John and Deborah in “their” spot. The place she felt her freest; her safest with John by her side.

  How could she be so stupid? She leaned against a tree. The bark bit into her back. Maybe she could tell John she’d been mistaken. Confused. That she really did want his attentions. No. It’d be unfair of her to ask him to wait until her family was settled and cared for.

  She glared at the stars. Just once, she’d like God to sprinkle some mercy. Some of His grace. Why did everything have to be so hard? She slid to the ground, her brown skirt billowing around her like a mushroom. Ruth covered her face and let loose the sobs she’d held at bay. How would she face John tomorrow, knowing he’d moved on to Deborah, and keep her broken heart from showing on her face?

  Chapter 25

  Ruth sniffed and wiped away a tear as Hank leaned in to kiss Grandma. Ruth’s heart swelled at the look of happiness that glowed on her grandmother’s face; at the gentle blush that swept her cheeks. Hank’s grin stretched from ear-to-ear. As the happy couple strolled hand in hand, Ruth joined in with the well wishers and tossed handfuls of rice that rained on their heads like white rain.

  In her butter-yellow dress, Grandma looked as pretty as the summer flowers she clutched. Ruth forgot about keeping her face dry. Let the tears come. Today deserved to be celebrated in a state of high emotion.

  Her gaze met John’s, and her face heated as she looked away. What would it be like to be in her grandmother’s shoes with John as her groom? Would she feel like she floated two feet above the ground?

  Ruth sighed. Who was she kidding? John may flirt and profess his attraction, but until Ruth came to terms with her feelings toward God, there could be no future between them.

  Since she hadn’t caught John and Deborah together again, she highly suspected they’d played a game with her emotions. Well, it wouldn’t work. She glanced around the crowd for her sister. Deborah giggled at something a young man said, then sashayed back into the building, flashing a smile toward Ruth.

  Ruth sighed. She wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive God for taking away her parents. Someday, she’d enter His house and have a serious conversation. Until then, she’d continue to muddle along on her own.

  She stepped out of the newly built church into falling dusk. Oil lamps burned around tables and the perimeter of a makeshift dance floor. Fireflies flickered a few feet above the ground, and lent an aura of romance to the festivities. Stars emerged from a velvet sky. There couldn’t be a more perfect night for a wedding.

  The aroma of sizzling bear steaks filled the air. Her stomach rumbled, and she waved at Luke where he kept watch on the meat. He returned her gesture with a wave of a large pronged utensil.

  Assorted dishes of beans and potatoes filled two plank tables. Ruth donned an apron and took up the position of replacing a dish when it became emptied. Thanks to contributions from the town’s residents, there was no end to the food.

  The strains of a fiddle being tuned drifted through the air. Maybe John would ask her to dance to the waltz. She’d heard it was all the rage back east. The one and only time she’d danced to the increasingly popular steps had been with a young farm boy who’d stomped on her toes more times than she could count. She would love to twirl around the floor in John’s arms. For this one night, she’d pretend that love was possible between them.

  Grandma and Hank paraded by the table. Grandma clutched his arm like she’d never let go, and laid her head on his shoulder. Ruth sighed. How lovely they looked. Tears threatened again, and Ruth hurried to remove an empty dish of beans, replacing it with a pan of cornbread.

  “Need any help?” John came behind the table. “With all this food, we should’ve set up another table or two. Then you wouldn’t be stuck back here.”

  “I don’t mind serving people, John. You know that.” She brushed past him. Her heart hitched at the brief contact.

  “I’d like to see you have some fun though.” He laughed and grasped her arm. “With me. Promise me a waltz?”

  Ruth giggled. “Only one?” Okay, maybe she could get into the art of flirtation. “I’ll need to check my dance card.”

  John adopted a playful scowl. “I can make sure that card is completely empty except for my name. I’ll arrest anyone who dares dance with you.”

  Ruth tapped his nose. “I promise to save you a waltz.” She skipped out of his reach and dashed away. Gracious, it was hot. From the weather or John’s close proximity, she wasn’t sure, but either way, she felt she’d swoon.

  At long last, she grabbed a plate of food for herself, and went in search of a secluded spot to eat. She found it on the porch steps and thanked her good fortune. A few children rolled hoops past her as adults stomped and whirled in a quadrille. Music filled the air and Ruth tapped her foot in rhythm with the melody. As soon as she stuck the last bite of steak in her mouth, John grabbed her by the hand.

  “You promised me a dance.”

  “A waltz, yes.” Ruth bent to retrieve her dishes.

  “This will be fun.” He took the plate from her hands, set it back on the steps, then dragged her to the floor.

  Laughter rang around her, enticing in its gaiety. Ruth couldn’t help but be swept into the joyous mood that seemed to engulf everyone. They’d no sooner stepped foot on the rough boards, when a man she didn’t know, whisked Ruth away. Seconds later, she found herself passed off to another. Her heart pounded and her palms grew clammy.

  Long minutes passed before she convinced herself they weren’t out to hurt her. The men only wanted to stomp to the music. When she made her way back to John, she smiled. “Thank you. This is fun.”

  He raised his right arm for her to pass under. “You’re welcome, lovely lady. Have I told you how beautiful you look in that green dress?”

  “No.” Ruth peered at him from ben
eath lowered lashes.

  “Well, you do. The prettiest gal here.” Then they were parted again.

  The next song was the awaited waltz, and Ruth settled into John’s arms like she’d been there forever. John swayed with the ease of a man who knew the steps. Ruth’s skin tingled from his hand at her waist. Her gaze locked with his, and time stopped.

  John lowered his head and brushed his lips across her forehead before he pulled her closer. Although the position made it more difficult to perform the steps of the waltz, Ruth didn’t want to pull away. Let the townspeople stare. For a moment, she swayed, knowing she stood exactly where she wanted to be.

  “I want to show you something.” John’s whisper tickled behind her ears. He stepped back and claimed her hand.

  Ruth allowed him to lead her to their favorite spot on the bluff. In the moon’s glow, she could see stakes and rope stretched across the ground. She glanced up.

  His teeth flashed. “This is my land. This is where I’m building my house.” He pointed. “This will be the front porch, where we can sit on rocking chairs and look over the bluff. There will be the kitchen, the parlor, and stairs leading to the bedrooms.”

  Ruth didn’t miss his use of the word “we”. A lump formed in her throat. John planned the building of his house around her. She slid free from his grasp and strolled the perimeter of the rope. It seemed a dream come true. But how could it be possible?

  “It will be beautiful. Some lucky lady will be proud to call it home.”

  John put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “There’s only one lady I want living in this house.”

  She stepped back and shook her head. “It isn’t possible, John.” She studied his face through the tears in her eyes. “You need someone as loving and caring as you are. A woman who shares your faith.”

  “Your faith is there. It just needs to be unburied.”

  “I’m not ready to dig.”