Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “I’m not fine.” Ruth poked him in the ribs. “You’re squishing me.”

  “There’s your baby.” He kept a soothing stream of words going as he slowly dragged Ruth toward the gate to the foaling stall. He hoped she’d unlatch it and get out… . Only that’s hoping for more sense than she has.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Josh nickered softly, moved slowly, and stayed vigilant. To his relief, he heard the latch on the gate scrape free.

  “Got her, Josh,” Felipe said.

  Josh’s relief disappeared an instant later when Ruth kept a handful of his shirt and dragged him backward, too. He reached around and manacled her wrist. A quick, hard squeeze, then he let go. To his relief, she got the message and turned loose of him. Though set free, he didn’t move a muscle. The gate shut behind him, and he stayed put. Humming, talking, remaining still, he coaxed Maxie to calm down.

  The wobbly-legged foal tried to nurse, but Maxie nosed her away. Josh’s heart dropped to his boots. The last thing he needed was for the already high-strung mare to reject her foal because Ruth took a mind to barge in where she didn’t belong.

  “Hey now. No use getting upset. Everything’s fine.”

  From the corner of his eye he could see the back of Ruth’s slim hand and puffy golden yellow sleeve come over the stall.

  Slowly, he reached up and tried to shove it back, only she tucked a carrot into his hand and pulled her arm back of her own accord.

  Maxie’s ears twitched. She’d spied the carrot, and though she’d been given a fine warm bran mash after foaling late last night, that carrot caught her fancy. Now having someone in her foaling stall didn’t seem to be so offensive. Josh broke it into pieces and offered a small section in the palm of his hand.

  All of a sudden, Maxie turned sociable. She lipped the carrot, backed up a step, and downed the treat. It didn’t escape Josh’s notice how she’d put herself between him and the foal. That was a good sign. Right about now, he’d gladly accept any scrap of positive news.

  He waited until Maxie snorted, then gave her another segment of the carrot. Bite by bite, he regained her cooperation, if not her trust. After giving her the last chunk, Josh figured he’d done about all he could—but Ruth seemingly disagreed. Her hand slipped over the stall again, this time with an apple. Where had she gotten these?

  Maxie didn’t care where the food came from. She loved apples. The fruit barely landed in Josh’s hand before the mare swiped it.

  Josh didn’t cotton to the notion that a prize-winning broodmare ate this stuff. What she needed was fresh, green grass. Plenty of water. Oats for a treat. Then again, he didn’t dare try to wrestle the horse for the apple or turn to chide Ruth. Calm. Keeping calm and getting Maxie to stay tranquil—those were the most important things.

  Smacking her lips, Maxie came back for more. “Greedy mama,” Josh said in a low, humored tone.

  Ruth’s arm slid over the stall again. Dirt streaked the sleeve, but her hand stayed steady as could be as the mare approached and lipped the biggest lump of sugar Josh had ever seen from her palm.

  What’s next? His stomach growled. Gravy and biscuits? He couldn’t fathom how Ruth produced all of that food.

  But the foal approached Maxie, nudged up close, and started to nurse. Josh held his breath. Maxie allowed it. For having been in a rampaging rage just minutes earlier, the change was nothing short of a miracle. Well, maybe not a miracle, but the result of some hefty bribery. But it worked.

  He sidled out of the stall, latched the gate, and turned toward Ruth. A few bits of hay littered her hem—but the skirts fluffed out from a plethora of petticoats and lacked hoops that would have made this whole episode a disaster. Dirt streaked the yellow bodice and sleeves of her city-pretty dress. Her hair straggled out of the pins, springing into touch-me curls all around her face, and the maddening woman had the unmitigated gall to wear an apologetic smile. “Please, let’s not argue in front of her. I already upset her once.”

  “I’d call that belated good sense.” Toledo dropped the bale of hay he’d carried over.

  Josh shot the ranch hand a quelling look, then grabbed Ruth’s arm and led her out of the stable. “You don’t belong in here.”

  “Why not?” She stopped in a banner of early morning sunlight that turned her escapee tresses into spirals of glinting gold.

  “Why not?” He couldn’t believe she’d challenged his edict. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Because you practically got yourself kicked. Maxie could trample you in an instant. No one goes near a mare and her foal without good cause.”

  “I was trying to make friends.”

  “Friends.” He caught himself repeating her words as if he’d been kicked in the head. “Miss Caldwell—”

  “Ruth,” she reminded him with a smile that was altogether too attractive.

  He refused to be charmed. “Ruth, you could have gotten yourself maimed or killed. You upset a prized mare so badly, she nearly rejected her foal. I can’t have you in there. You’ll do irreparable damage if you don’t get yourself killed.”

  “Are you telling me the animals on this farm aren’t domesticated enough to be safe?”

  “This is a ranch, not a farm.”

  “Thank you for reminding me of that.” The crazy woman continued to smile at him. “But aren’t the animals friendly?”

  “These aren’t pets.” He sighed. “They’re either work animals or food.”

  “But we treat them kindly on the Broken P, don’t we?”

  The pronoun she used struck him; she sure hadn’t hesitated to claim what was hers. That whole issue rankled. He snapped, “Of course.”

  “I wanted to get a basic idea as to where everything was, so that when we discussed my chores, I’d know where to go.”

  “Chores?” Josh barely choked back his laugh of disbelief. “What do you think you’d be capable of doing?”

  “I’m good with birds. Perhaps I could tend the chickens if you show me what to do.”

  “Chickens aren’t kept in the stable.”

  Her eyes widened and she burst out laughing. When she covered her mouth, Josh noted that her fingers weren’t clean. He couldn’t help wondering how often Ruth had to wash her hands and face and change her clothes—the woman possessed the singular habit of getting dirty. Laney always looked as if she’d stepped out of her Godey’s Ladies’ Book. He wondered who would rub off on whom. Then again, he didn’t. In a way, he wouldn’t mind seeing Laney a little less starchy.

  He took out his bandana and wiped a smudge from Ruth’s cheek. “When you go to town to shop, you’d better buy material for more dresses—ones for ranch living.”

  “You’re so very kind to suggest that, but it’s unnecessary.” She took the bandana from him and used it to dust off her sleeve—to no avail. “I promised Mama I wouldn’t wear mourning.”

  “I couldn’t care less if you don’t wear black. Color is fine.”

  “My gowns are made of material that employs the new colorfast aniline dyes. They all wash and won’t fade.” She cast a glance back toward the house. “If your concern is about the style, your sister wears full skirts, too.”

  “Laney wouldn’t dream of coming out to the stable.”

  Ruth’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t suppose she would. Just spending last evening with her convinced me she’s a perfect lady. I may as well confess so you don’t have to make the disappointing discovery for yourself: I can’t seem to mind all of the rules for young ladies.”

  “The rules that matter most around here are the ones I set.”

  “I’ll do my best to follow them, but my curiosity is insatiable. I’ll go where I’m not supposed to—”

  “Thanks for the warning, but I figured that out after that debacle just now.”

  She compressed her lips, then added, “Whilst I’m confessing, I may as well lay all of my flaws before you, so you’re forewarned: I have a tendency to speak my mind when I ought to hold my tongue, and I invent ways to get into trouble.”


  “Is that so?”

  Slowly, she nodded. “One headmistress declared I’d try even Job’s patience.”

  Her apologetic smile and guileless eyes proclaimed she’d told the truth, but an underlying sadness seeped through the words. Josh realized the admission hadn’t been easy. Then again, he wished it weren’t true. With “recommendations” like that, this young woman would prove to be more of a liability than he wanted around.

  “It’s plain to see ranching is hard work and there’s plenty to get done, Josh. I’m not about to sit on the veranda and watch you and the hands do it all. I want to do my fair share.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Josh—”

  He loomed over her and growled, “Dad knew what he was doing, and he busted his arm out here. You’re liable to kill yourself or get someone else killed when they try to save you. Make no mistake about it, Ruth Caldwell—this is a man’s world.”

  “Surely there are things a woman could do.”

  “Nope.”

  The corners of her mouth tightened in exasperation. “Did I catch you at a bad time, or are you always this stubborn?”

  “When it comes to safety issues, I’m unyielding.”

  “Then it makes perfect sense for us to decide how I can pull my weight around here.”

  She looked entirely too satisfied with herself, and Josh failed to see the logic of her comment. He would tell her so, too.

  “By giving me specific chores, I’ll be so busy, I won’t get into … situations.” Her rationale made him want to groan; yet she continued on as if he not only understood, but was in complete agreement with her. “With all there is to accomplish, there must be many responsibilities I can shoulder.”

  “Like what?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Chicken tending, for one thing.”

  “Chicken tending.” There I go again, repeating her words. But only a city gal would even concoct such a term. “I suppose we could arrange some of that.” And only that. Nothing more. If it salves your pride, then I’ll grant you that one chore.

  “What else?” she pursued eagerly.

  “More than anything, Laney needs your attention. When Mom passed away, Dad sent her back East to a finishing school. He brought her home just over a year ago, and she’s been lonely. I know she’s looking forward to painting with you.”

  “Oh. Was I being obtuse? When you suggested buying fabric, I assumed you meant my clothing might be unsuitable. If your sister enjoys sewing, I’d be happy to play along with your plan.”

  “I hold no doubt that you’ll need more dresses.” Yesterday you spilled water all over yourself, and today you’ve gotten dirt everywhere. It’s a wonder you only brought two trunks.

  “What about your sister?”

  “My sister could probably use a new one or two, herself.” He nodded at that brilliant plan. It would keep them together and Ruth out of his way.

  While he was at it, he might as well toss a few other projects her way to add time and distance. “Laney mentioned curtains for your room. She spent a lot of time and attention on her own bedchamber and is rightly proud of the results. I don’t doubt for a moment that stitching curtains and painting your walls would give her considerable satisfaction.”

  Ruth perked up. “You’ll allow us to paint the walls?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “It’ll be messy.”

  “Life is chaotic, Ruth.” He gestured in an arc. “Look around us. Felipe is mucking out the stable. The pigs are wallowing in mud. Even Hilda’s good cooking makes for a jumble in the kitchen. I don’t expect much ever gets done without the effort causing a mess. Stuff can be tidied up afterward—but the results are what matters.”

  “Oh, I like your way of thinking!”

  “You’d best scamper along back into the house and freshen up. Dad plans to go to town after breakfast, and he doesn’t cotton to waiting on anyone.”

  “I suppose I could meet the animals later today.”

  Stubbornly folding his arms across his chest, Josh glowered at her. “You’ll stay away from the beasts unless someone is with you.”

  “Yes, well, that seems like a reasonable request.”

  “It wasn’t a request; it was an order. Regardless of the finer points of who owns what, this place has to turn a profit. Dad sees to the business matters; I’m in charge of the working end of things. Any mistake is costly, and you’re going to have to face the fact that you’re wholly ignorant and must rely on us to make decisions.”

  “I’m good at sums. I could help your father with the books and free him up to see to other matters.”

  Josh shook his head. “Ruth, Dad busted his left arm right after we struck up the partnership with your father. I’m sure you noticed it’s not quite right. He can’t lift heavy loads or do most of the physical labor. Handling the books and business end of the ranch lets him keep his pride. I want your word that you won’t horn in on him.”

  Her expression softened, and compassion deepened the green of her remarkable eyes. “I know what it’s like to want to protect a parent. You just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll work with you in every way possible.”

  “For now, go back to the house. Dad won’t want to wait to leave after breakfast, so you’d best uh …” He glanced meaningfully at her dress. “Spruce up a little.”

  “I’ll do that.” She pivoted around, then wheeled right back. Her skirts billowed and swept around his ankles. “And Josh? I’m sorry about the mare. Her new baby is darling. I didn’t know she’d be so protective. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Good.” He watched as she grabbed fistfuls of her bright skirts, lifted them, and ran like a deer toward the house—straight through a mud puddle.

  “Lord, help me. That woman’s an accident waiting to happen.”

  “Thank you, Toledo.” Laney smiled at the hand as he tipped his hat to them, then sauntered off. She patted her hoopskirts into submission and beamed at Ruth. “I told you we’d both fit back here.”

  Ruth surveyed the back of the buckboard and giggled. “Just barely.”

  “We’re ladies.” Laney leaned forward and whispered, “Besides, the hoops are far cooler whilst we walk about town. Furthermore, they force the riffraff to keep decent distance from us. I’ll teach you all those tricks.”

  “It’s already growing warm, isn’t it?”

  Laney popped open a parasol. Instead of being cloth, it boasted a beautifully painted papery canopy. “Here. I brought one for you, too. Josh went to San Francisco and toted back several of these for me. A Chinese woman painted them. Aren’t they positively charming?”

  “Lovely. And it’s so kind of you to share.”

  “We’re practically sisters now. Of course we’ll share things.” Laney twirled her parasol until the decoration on it reached just the right spot. “I brought Hilda’s list along, so you and I can spend time in the mercantile. Daddy hates to shop. He’ll likely wander off and pick us up. It’s perfectly safe.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t leave you if he felt any danger existed.”

  “That’s right,” McCain said as he swaggered up and climbed into the front of the buckboard. He used his left arm as a counterbalance and managed the feat with surprising grace. “Laney’s welfare is uppermost in my mind. You, too, Ruth. Now that you’re under my roof, you’re part of the family.”

  “You’ve all been most welcoming. I’m unaccustomed to having men around. I’ll beg your forgiveness because I’m sure I’ll probably charge ahead at times.”

  “You didn’t grow up with a man as the head of your home,” McCain declared as he picked up the reins. “But now that you’re under my roof and authority, the natural order of things will assert itself.”

  Ruth thought about what he’d said and couldn’t convince herself that Mr. McCain had spoken the truth. Simply put, selfcontrol and self-determination were her problems, just as they always had been. Having men around merely complicated the matter because McCain
assumed she’d acquiesce to him, and when it came to Josh—well, she couldn’t begin to decide what he thought.

  Lacking any appreciable exposure to men, Ruth couldn’t figure out where she stood with Josh. Yesterday he’d been the personification of kindness when he told her of her father’s passing. Even in his anger over the ranch’s ownership, he’d thought to provide for her. Then, too, he’d waded through all of the awkwardness regarding Madame Velvet—surely that counted as a point in his favor. Mad as he’d been to discover her in Maxie’s stall, Josh still put himself in jeopardy for Ruth’s sake. But beneath all of that, she knew he’d probably summed up his whole stance the moment they met when he said she shouldn’t have come.

  I promised Mama I’d come and live here, no matter what. I was foolish to pledge that to her. Father’s not here, but I’m still honor bound to remain in California. Not that there’s anywhere else for me to stay. I’ll have to make the best of this.

  The ride into Folsom rated as far more comfortable than the stuffy stage. Fresh air, good company, and lighter clothing made for a pleasant journey. Best of all, Laney told her stories about her father. Mr. McCain originally warned, “Laney, you’ll make Ruth sad if you say things about the daddy she never knew.”

  “Oh, please—I’d be delighted to know anything you could tell me.”

  “Well, then,” McCain drawled, “there was the time Alan decided he was goin’ eyeball to eyeball with the orneriest colt on the Broken P. We all worried he’d get stomped to death. All that worry was in vain. Alan moseyed into the corral wearin’ his holster. I thought for sure he was drawin’ a pistol, but he pulled out the fattest carrot you ever did see… .”

  Ruth listened avidly, and in no time at all, Mr. McCain was parking the rig in a field across from the Pony Express office. Three other buckboards lined up there as well, but it made sense. Main Street rode the swell of a hill. Anyone leaving a conveyance in front of most businesses would come out to find it rolling away.

  Squiring a girl on either side of him, Mr. McCain headed toward the boardwalk. “I’ll leave you gals in the mercantile.