Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Learning of the size of her inheritance came as a shock. Now Ruth got a clear picture as to just how sharp her grandfather had been. Page after page of the portfolio represented the various investments, stocks, and bonds. Though Farnsworth mentioned the collection was well diversified, Ruth marveled at the wide range of companies and products. Two railroads. Western Union. The Overland Mail Company. The I.M. Singer Sewing Machine Company. Otis Safety Elevator. The list went on. A list of how many shares, what their current value was, and how they’d been earning accompanied each listing.

  The second section contained certificates to accompany the diamonds. Other than an emerald ring she occasionally wore and a pair of ruby earbobs, Ruth owned no jewels. The prices listed for the diamonds shocked her. She opened the velvet pouch and poured two-dozen ice-like stones into her palm. They glittered in the lamplight. Their value didn’t make sense. A man could labor for years and never spend a penny of his wages before he could buy the smallest of the diamonds. Ruth shook her head as she carefully poured them back into the bag and tied it shut.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  Ruth slipped the pouch into her pocket, then scurried to the door before whoever was there would knock again and disturb Laney. She opened it a crack.

  “I wanted to check in on you and Elaine.”

  “Laney is already asleep, Mr. McCain.”

  “But you can’t sleep? Poor little Ruth. Dear, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head over all of these business matters. I feared that Farnsworth overburdened you.”

  “Not at all. I appreciated his recognizing that I have a sound mind and am eager to use it.”

  He nodded sagely. “That’s good to know. The other good thing is knowing whom you can trust.”

  “Oh, I agree!” She nodded her head in agreement but didn’t meet his eyes. “Well, thank you for checking in on us.”

  “I could stay for a time and keep you company … until you fall asleep,” McCain suggested.

  Ruth tried hard to look notably shocked. “That would hardly be appropriate, Mr. McCain. We are not related.”

  “Well, you’re practically a daughter to me. Indeed, I think of you that way.”

  His expression made Ruth most uncomfortable. Josh and Farnsworth’s voices drifted up the stairs. Ruth could hear them drawing nearer and raised the volume of her voice as much as she dared. “Good night, Mr. McCain.”

  McCain hesitated, then seemed to realize it would do him little good to protest. “Good night, Ruth.” He turned and said, “Laney’s already asleep. Ruth’s settling in nicely.”

  “Ruth?”

  She opened the door about six more inches. “Yes, Josh?”

  He bid good night to Farnsworth and came to her door. “I suggested to Hilda that she bring up a breakfast tray for you and Laney. It should give you a little more time to get ready to go into town, and I want my sister to have as much sleep as possible.”

  “How thoughtful! She’s still recovering.”

  “Good idea, son.” McCain slapped Josh on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, Dad. Good night.” Josh didn’t move an inch.

  Ruth wanted to hug him for being so stalwart.

  “It’s not seemly for you to be at the door of a young lady’s bedchamber,” McCain muttered.

  Ruth opened her mouth to tell McCain he had no room to cast stones, but Laney’s sleepy voice called, “Josh, is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Laney Lou.”

  “Ruth showed me her grandmother’s brooch. It made me remember Mama’s cameo. Do you know where it is?”

  McCain shouldered past Ruth and into the room. “I’m the one you ought to ask. I’ve been keeping it for you.”

  Ruth stood in the wide-open doorway, astonished at his nerve. He’d just faulted his son for standing out in the hall, yet he’d barged straight in!

  Josh tugged on her sleeve, and she stepped out of the room. He dipped his head. “Wait until I come to get you in the morning. Otherwise Dad will sneak in and nose through your papers.”

  Ruth nodded. Next, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her dressing gown, closed her fingers around the velvet pouch, and slowly withdrew it. Pressing it into Josh’s hand, she murmured, “For safekeeping.”

  “I stored the cameo away for you,” McCain told Laney. “Your mother received it on her eighteenth birthday, and I always thought you’d want me to give it to you on yours.”

  “I’m sorry if I spoiled your surprise, Daddy.”

  “You didn’t spoil it, sis.” Josh casually slipped his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged. “If anything, I think it will make her appreciate the cameo more now, Dad. She’ll anticipate it.”

  “I think that’s enough excitement for Laney,” Ruth announced. “She needs to get back to sleep. If you gentlemen will excuse us …”

  “Of course we will,” Josh said. “Come on, Dad. I’ll see you girls in the morning.”

  Josh managed to get his father out of the room, and Ruth immediately shut the door. She rued the fact that the door didn’t have a lock. Laney slipped back to sleep, then Ruth scoured the room to find a safe hiding place for her portfolio. Finally, she settled on stuffing it in her pillowslip.

  The next morning, Hilda bustled into the room with a breakfast tray. “Don’t know what got into Josh. He suddenly thinks you girls are delicate or something. Of all the nonsense in the world, your not being able to gather yourselves together enough to show up at the breakfast table.”

  267

  “We’ll put the extra time to good use. Maybe Laney can help me finally tame my hair into a respectable style.”

  Setting down the tray, Hilda snorted. “There’s not enough time in all eternity for that. Why you think you have to make your hair look like everybody else’s beats me. Nothin’ wrong with plenty of curl. You don’t see ducklings trying to slick down their fluff. Your hair’s just like that—yellow down. Only curly.”

  “Ducklings are adorable,” Laney said. “And so are you, Ruth.”

  “Hans Christian Andersen has a fairy tale about the Ugly Duckling. I always loved that story.”

  Hilda turned to go. “Anyone who thinks a duckling is ugly just ain’t looking from the right angle. That’s what I say. Maybe you need to think on that good and hard, Ruth Caldwell.”

  “Here we go. Ruth, let me help you up.” McCain bustled over to her.

  “I’ve got her, Dad.” Josh curled his hands about Ruth’s slender waist.

  “Thank you, Josh.” Ruth smiled at him. Is she glad I’m holding her, or just that it isn’t Dad?

  He’d no more than begun to lift her when his father snapped, “What do you think you’re doing? Ruth belongs on the seat, next to me.”

  “Please put me back with Laney, Josh. I couldn’t possibly sit up front.”

  He held Ruth suspended in midair, not at all sorry for the opportunity to show her his strength and protection. If only I’d spoken about my feelings before she revealed her inheritance. Ruth needs to know I will cherish her and be her shelter and security. Dad’s acting like a love-struck swain, and it’s downright embarrassing.

  She lightly patted his shoulder. “It’s only right that Hilda sit up front.”

  “Hilda?!” McCain spluttered.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Hilda stepped out onto the porch and fussed with her new dress.

  “You have work to do. You can’t go gallivanting to town,” McCain snapped.

  As he tucked Ruth in beside his sister, Josh injected a casual note to his voice, “I asked Hilda to go.”

  “And look how charming she is in her new gown!” Laney handed Ruth a parasol.

  “Ruth, sugar, you come on up front,” his father ordered.

  “Dad, you’re embarrassing her.”

  “I couldn’t possibly …” Ruth allowed her voice to trail off as she waved her arm over the full skirts surrounding her.

  “Age before beauty,” Hilda trundled over.

  “You�
�re not old,” Laney said. “And you are beautiful.”

  Josh lifted Hilda up, and she settled in. She glanced at his father, then declared, “That scowl would curdle even goat’s milk. You sufferin’ from indigestion? If you are, you’d best stay home and nibble on a dry biscuit.”

  “The last thing I need is an old woman telling me what to do.” McCain climbed into the buckboard and grabbed the reins.

  Farnsworth had already mounted up. Josh unhitched his own mare and swung into the saddle. “Let’s go. We have a lot to get done today.”

  He and Farnsworth rode their horses on either side of the wagon. Laney chattered like a happy little magpie. Farnsworth proved adept at keeping conversation flowing easily, so he and Ruth only needed to put in a well-timed comment or two.

  Before getting out of the wagon when they reached town, Ruth slipped Hilda a coin.

  “What is this?” McCain demanded.

  “I’ve made extra work for Hilda. It’s only fair that I pay her a little for all she’s done.”

  Hilda glanced down at the double eagle and sucked in a loud breath. “Child, I think you gave me—”

  “Far less than you deserve,” Ruth cut in. “Please, Hilda, spoil yourself a bit. It would make me so happy if you did.”

  “That’s why you need me to look out for you.” McCain shook his finger at Ruth. “You’re making foolish choices and will spend yourself into penury with rash decisions.”

  “Oh my!” Ruth hastily opened her reticule. “Here, Hilda. I want to make sure you have more before I fritter away everything.” She took out two more double eagles, pressed them into Hilda’s hand, and curled the gaping housekeeper’s fingers around the coins. Smiling, Ruth addressed his father, “Thank you for reminding me to keep my priorities straight.”

  “Miss Elaine,” Farnsworth said, “I’d be honored if you’d allow me to help you alight.”

  “How kind of you,” Laney said.

  Josh reached upward. “Come here, Ruthie.”

  As he helped her down, Ruth said, “It’s the funniest thing. When your father called me ‘Ruthie,’ it reminded me of my grandfather. You call me ‘Ruthie,’ and it’s just different somehow.”

  Hilda cackled but didn’t say a word.

  Dad jumped down from the wagon and ignored her. Josh turned loose of Ruth and helped Hilda descend. “Ruth’s attorney and I are going to escort her to the bank. I’m not sure how long we’ll be. If you finish up, go on ahead to the Copper Kettle and we’ll meet you there.”

  “I’ll take Ruth.” McCain took her hand and threaded it through his arm. “You stay close to me this time, my dear. We can’t have you falling as you did the first time you came to town.”

  Ruth slipped her other hand around Josh’s arm. “Isn’t this fun? Your daddy’s going to drop us off. Oh, I’m not supposed to know, but it’s really okay, Mr. McCain. You feel free to toddle along to the saloon. Mrs. Tudbert—she was the headmistress at one of the schools I attended—well, she claimed I could drive all but the heartiest men to drink.”

  “Me? Drink?” McCain gave her a wounded look.

  “Yes, you. Or you do a fair imitation of it,” Hilda said. “Either that, or the whiskey in the hutch sure is evaporating quick as greased lightnin’.”

  “Mercy.” Ruth covered her mouth with her gloved hand. Of course the glove was smudged, but Josh grinned at that fact. She might be wealthy as a queen, but she’d end up looking like a happy peasant a good portion of the time. Shoulders slumping, she sighed, “My mouth gets me into difficulty all of the time. I should have thought about what I said, and I didn’t.”

  “No harm done,” McCain said.

  Ruth went on, “It’s just that when you came to Lester’s Mercantile the other day to pick us up, you said something about the Nugget. I just assumed …” Her eyes widened and she whipped out her fan. Fluttering it at an impossible speed, she gasped, “My. Oh my.”

  “Laney, you come along with me.” Hilda hauled Laney to the store.

  “No need to be in a dither.” Dad tried to pat Ruth.

  Her fan kept fluttering, bumping against his fingertips. Having seen how inept she was with a fan, Josh figured it was just Ruth being clumsy. Dad continued to try to soothe her and received several thwaps before he grabbed the frippery. “See here now, girl. There’s nothing wrong with a man wetting his whistle. One or two whiskeys while I talk over business with associates isn’t really drinking.”

  She went pale as dandelion fluff and her hold on Josh’s arm tightened. He reached over and slid his other hand over hers. “Ruth?”

  “Perhaps it would be best to have Miss Caldwell out of the sun,” Farnsworth said.

  Ruth extended her other hand, palm upward. Even through the covering of her smudged glove, Josh saw how her hand shook. So did her voice. “Please.”

  McCain beamed and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I knew you’d see reason.” He took a step, but Ruth didn’t follow along.

  She yanked her hand away from him and half-whispered, “The fan.”

  McCain pivoted toward her and forced a chuckle. “I’d rather face a man with a bullwhip than you with a fan.” He half opened the fan, but his left arm and hand were awkward. His thumb broke a few of the thin ivory spokes, and part of the silk tore. “Wretched little thing. You’re better off without it.” He flipped it onto the ground.

  Immediately Ruth knelt and reached for it.

  Josh stooped and swept the broken fan from the ground. He turned. The look on Ruth’s face knocked him to his knees. “Here, Ruthie.”

  Dusty and mangled though it was, Ruth pressed the fan to her bosom.

  “All this fuss about a cheap little nothing,” Dad groused.

  Blinking back tears, Ruth started to rise. Josh popped up and braced her elbow.

  His father cleared his throat. “I’ll buy you another one.”

  Folding the fan with near reverence and carefully tucking it into her reticule, Ruth didn’t give a response. She squared her shoulders. “Joshua, please take me to the bank.”

  McCain stepped back, and Josh led her to the boardwalk. He could feel her shaking. “What is it?”

  Ruth didn’t look at him. Eyes lowered, voice full of pain, she rasped, “It was Mama’s fan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The house felt empty. Even with five of them moving about and Da in the bed, the place seemed too roomy, too quiet. Galen set the pitcher of yesterday’s cream from the spring house on the table.

  Sean stuck his head over the loft railing. “Ma, can we have flapjacks with raspberry syrup again?”

  “Nay, boy-oh. Your father’s wanting oatmeal with blackberries.”

  “No better way to start the day,” Da said. He chuckled a little before he coughed. “I take that back. The best way to start the day is openin’ my eyes and seeing the fairest woman God ever fashioned.”

  Ma blushed. “You and your blarney.”

  “’Tis nice to see you in that new dress,” Colin said.

  “Me in a store-bought dress is like putting silk on a sow.”

  “Kelly-mine, you’ll always be the queen o’ my heart.”

  Ma laughed like a young girl. “Serve a man his favorite food, and his tongue turns silver.”

  Dale scrambled down the ladder from the loft and over to the bed. “Let me see!”

  “See what?” Colin asked.

  “Stick out your tongue, Da. I want to see a silver one. Mine’s red. See?” Dale stuck out his tongue.

  “Silly boy.” Galen ran his fingers through his brother’s shortcropped, unruly curls. “’Tis a saying. If a man has a silver tongue, it means he can turn a pretty phrase.”

  “Can girls have silver tongues?”

  “Sure, they can. Why?”

  Dale sneezed and started to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Galen handed him a bandana with a stern look. After using the bandana, Dale declared, “Laney has a silver tongue. She has sweet words for everyone.”

  “Aye,
she does.” Ma set bowls on the table. “She, Hilda, and Ruth all have hearts o’ gold, too. Just look at what they came and did.”

  Five stacks of jars lined the far wall, partially blocking the window. Each stack was eight high. “I’ve ne’er seen the likes of that,” Da marveled.

  “I’ll carry most out to the barn. Pick and choose what you want to keep in the house, Ma.”

  “Your father and I talked it out.” Ma motioned everyone to the table. “I’ll set aside what our family’ll be needing, but you, Galen, can go to town and sell the rest of that to Lester. Stop by the Broken P on the way home and split the money with them.”

  Shaking his head, Galen sat down and said, “Pony’s coming through any day now. I need to be here and have a mount ready, just in case.”

  Ma rested her hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Your brother’s more than able to ready the horse for the Pony today. He’ll see to that chore whilst you make the jaunt.”

  Colin stretched to his full height and flashed a proud smile. “Of course I can do that. I’ve been watching. Pony used to come through about two in the afternoon. I’ll have the horse ready by one-thirty.”

  Galen squinted across the table and pretended to assess his brother. “’Tis a hefty responsibility.”

  “One I’m up to.”

  “Lula would be my choice to do the run.”

  “She’s the mustang with the brown coat and white tail,” Colin declared. “Sweet tempered, too.”

  “Aye, you’ll do.” Galen bobbed his head. “But ’tis a man’s job.” Colin nearly popped the buttons off his shirt from puffing out his chest, but that was exactly what Galen wanted.

  Ma winked at him. If push came to shove, Ma could ready the mare, but Galen knew she wouldn’t need to. She’d planted the idea, then stayed out of the exchange so Colin would feel he’d had a man-to-man conversation. I don’t remember, but I bet she and Da did the same thing with me when I was young.