Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (32 page)
“If I’m right about Hilda and your mom, they’ll have every last jar full in a matter of days.”
“’Tis a distinct possibility. The garden’s bountiful.”
“I’ll pick up more jars. It’ll give me an excuse to be in town.”
“God go with you.”
“Thanks, Galen. I need Him to.”
Y
ou look like somethin’ the cat dragged in,” Hilda declared as she eyed Ruth’s damp hair and limp dress.
Ruth shoved a plethora of curls from her damp forehead and climbed into the buckboard.. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
Laney sat in the bed of the buckboard and smoothed her rumpled pink dress. “This frock is never going to be the same.” Leaning toward the edge, she added to Kelly O’Sullivan, “And I’m not sad one bit. I made a pink dress because your son is so bossy, but I look atrocious in it.”
“I’ve never seen you look atrocious,” Galen said as he sauntered up. “Until now. Oh, you lasses are quite a sight!”
“Galen!” his mother huffed.
“He’s right.” Ruth couldn’t keep from smiling. “Laney and I will keep these as our work dresses. It won’t matter if they get stained or need patching. With your garden and orchard, we’ll have plenty to do to keep up with what God grows.”
“’Tis good for you to help, but I don’t expect you to work each and every time you show up,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said.
“Nonsense.” Laney folded her hands in her lap as if she were at a garden party. “It wasn’t work. It was fun. I’ve never put up tomatoes or beans before.”
“Many hands make work light, you know.” Hilda took up the reins.
“It was nice of you to come, Hilda. I enjoyed swappin’ recipes with you.” Mrs. O’Sullivan motioned to her boys. Sean and Dale scrambled up, one holding a flat of canned tomatoes and the other a flat of beans. “You’ll want to be havin’ these. More’ll come home once the jars cool enough to be touched.”
“We’ve got plenty.” Hilda pursed her lips, then said, “But I’ve come up with a hankerin’ for cherries. Your trees putting out yet?”
“We’ll be pickin’ them tomorrow,” Galen answered.
“You got any spare clean canvas?”
“I suppose we do,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said slowly. “Why?”
“I’m bringin’ the girls back tomorrow and the next day, too. I’ve got lemons. We’ll use ’em along with the sugar. Cherry fruit leathers’d taste mighty fine in the winter. Them young boys’ll do good at keepin’ the birds from pecking at the canvas once we spread the fruit puree on it.”
Colin turned to his mother. “Oh, you made raspberry leathers a few years back. Remember how good they tasted?”
“It’s blackberry and raspberry season now. Just like it is cherries. They all come ripe the same time.” Hilda scooted from side to side to settle herself more comfortably on the buckboard bench. “Cherries tomorrow. If your boys find brambles, we can go aberryin’ the next day.”
“I know where some are!” Sean shouted.
“We’ll have to be sure to make pies and tarts to send home with you. You don’t want your boss mad at you for letting chores pass you by,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said.
“The mister is outta town. Josh won’t care a lick if I sear a steak for his supper. Timing is right; might as well help one another out.”
As they rode home, Hilda turned halfway around on the seat. “Your dresses are ruined. Don’t be expecting me to launder them just so you can go add berry stains to the mess.”
“Of course we don’t.” Laney gave a dainty shrug. “It won’t matter a whit to me. I’m just sitting here, trying to figure out how to talk you into making raspberry syrup.”
“All depends on how many raspberries get picked. Syrup’s nice for a short while, but it don’t store none too good. Blackberries, raspberries, cherries—tasty little things, but they gotta be dried up. They won’t gel, so can’t make jellies or preserves.”
“Back home, Bernadette added grapes or quince to berries and made preserves,” Ruth remembered. “The taste was wonderful.”
“Crabapples work, too.” Hilda sniffed. “But McCain won’t be happy if I spend grocery money on any of those fruits. They’re not in season.”
“If they’re not in season,” Laney wondered, “how could you get any?”
“South America has seasons upside down to ours,” Ruth explained. “Our winter is their summer. Our spring is their autumn. They ought to have crabapples and grapes aplenty now.”
“Yeah, but I’d have to pay dearly for them.” Hilda turned around and didn’t say another word.
Once they reached home, Hilda stopped the buckboard by the back of the house. A couple of the hands came over and helped the women down. Hilda told one, “Just unhitch the horses. We’ll be using the wagon for the next few days. No use draggin’ it in and out. You—haul those beans and tomatoes into the pantry for me. I’ve got supper to see to.”
Josh came out of the house, took one look at his sister, and turned to Ruth. “That’s not my sister. Where did you leave Laney?”
Ruth burst out laughing.
“That bump on the head knocked some sense into her,” Hilda grumbled. “Finally made her see she’s not your daddy’s little china doll. Don’t you dare try to fancify her again, Joshua. I’ll double starch your Sunday shirts if you do.”
“Well …” he drawled and paused. “Instead of everyone dressing for supper, why don’t we just eat in the kitchen?”
“Oh, could we?” Laney grabbed Hilda’s hand. “Remember when you used to let Josh and me have supper with you when we were little?”
“Long as you don’t mind my talkin’ business to Josh whilst we eat.”
Half an hour later, they sat around the table. Josh reached over and took Ruth’s hand in his. She gave him a startled look. “When Mom was alive, we always joined hands at the table for prayer. Dad put an end to that practice when she passed on, but I’d like us to do it again.”
His fingers and palm were callused and rough against hers, but it felt good.
I could sit at the table all night and just let him hold my hand.
He makes me feel warm and safe, like I belong here
. Ruth smiled at him and took Hilda’s hand.
“Almighty, bountiful Father, we thank you for all of the blessings in our lives. Most of all, we thank you for one another and the unity we feel as your children. Bless this meal, and bless Hilda’s dear hands that prepared it. Help us, Lord, to serve you in all we do. Amen.”
They didn’t pass around the platter and bowls—Hilda had already served the supper on their plates. Hilda started cutting her steak and said, “I warned you that I’m talking business, so here goes—I need someone to go to town and get me a bunch of stuff.”
“What do you need?” Josh asked.
“More jars—eighteen flats oughta do. A dozen lemons and another ladle.”
Ruth added, “Grapes, crabapples, and quince.” When the housekeeper’s jaw dropped, Ruth said, “It was rude of me to interrupt. I’m sorry. I just wanted to remind you of what we talked over on the way home.”
Hilda’s gape turned into a grin. “I appreciate your reminding me. Yes. I need all of those. And canvas. Fifteen—” She looked at how Ruth’s chin lifted. “No, twenty yards of cheap canvas.”
“Whoa. I’m going to need to write this down.” Josh scooped a bite into his mouth, left the table, and returned with a pencil and sheet of paper.
Ruth listened the whole time to the way his spurs sang as he walked.
As he sat down, Josh said, “Now go over that again.”
Laney recited everything back to him.
Ruth gawked at her. “How did you do that?”
“I’m a good listener.”
“Always was,” Hilda said. “Your mama used to read poems and such to you, and you’d rattle it right back word for word. The very next day, you’d go off to school and have the teacher praising you ten ways to tomorrow for givin’ a beautiful recitation. Josh, your dad’s gonna throw a hissy fit over my wanting all this stuff, and I’m not done yet.”
“I’ll deal with Dad.”
Ruth didn’t dare look at Josh. He’d had an edge to his voice she hoped no one else picked up on. The past week or so he’d been acting different. It wasn’t just the discovery of his father’s perfidy. She couldn’t decide what had happened, but he was … different.
“As long as your dad’s gone, I reckon I ought to go with the girls over to the O’Sullivans. Kelly’s bearing up well, but I suspect she’s not sleeping much at night. Her husband’s needing a lot of care. We’ll pitch in and do a lot of canning, make jelly, and some fruit leathers—”
“Fruit leathers!” Josh perked up.
Ruth laughed. “You’re as bad as Galen’s little brothers. They got excited about them, too.”
“Those boys are growin’ like weeds. Saw ’em yesterday at church. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear on a stack of Bibles the littlest grew an inch overnight.” Hilda propped her elbows on the table. “It’d be too hard on Cullen’s pride for us to buy his children clothes, but I figure he’d be a happy man if we got his missus a pretty store-bought dress.”
“What a wonderful idea!” Ruth took a sip of milk. “You and she are about the same size. Whoever goes to town needs to know what to buy.”
“Excellent point.” Josh bent over the list. “What do you recommend, Hilda?”
“Nothing with a print. When she has to dye it black so she can wear it for mourning, if it’s got a print, the dye’ll look splotchy.”
“How about another apron for her?”
“Good idea, Ruth. Put that down, Josh.” Hilda slathered butter on a slice of bread. “Kelly and me—we’re of an age that we don’t trouble to cinch ourselves in tight. Tell whoever gets the dress to make it roomy around the middle.”
Laney perked up. “A matching hair ribbon and hair pins.”
“Other thing is, we’re gonna be over there at midday. I’m not about to eat them outta house and home.”
Josh hitched a shoulder. “Why don’t you take over a roast? Whatever they don’t eat for supper can be used for sandwiches the next day.”
“Now you’re talkin’, cowboy!” Hilda slapped the table.
At the end of supper, Ruth looked at Laney. “You’re exhausted.”
“After you tuck her in, would you meet me in the parlor?” Josh gazed at her intently. “I want to discuss something with you.”
“I don’t need to be tucked in. I can take care of myself.” Laney rose. “You two go on ahead.”
Ruth allowed Josh to escort her to the parlor. After seating her on the settee, he sat beside her—just as a man ought to do when he was courting. But he wasn’t. She tamped down the urge to giggle.
Josh took her hand in his. “I want to ask something important of you.”
She gave no response.
“Ruth, I want you to pursue your right to inherit the Broken P. You and I get along exceptionally well. I think we’ll make good partners. If you win your case, you and I could essentially band together and outvote anything Dad might want to do. By your having ownership, we could decide to hire a bookkeeper or have you take over that responsibility.”
“I think I’d enjoy that. I wouldn’t want it to interfere with starting the library, though.” She wrinkled her nose. “But, Josh, I still feel it’s wrong for me to claim any of the property.”
“Laney and I need your help, Ruth. So does Hilda. She’s only earning seven-fifty a month.”
“That’s …” She did the math in her head. “Only a quarter a day? Unconscionable!”
“I agree. I’ll go to town tomorrow. I left the books with Rick Maltby. He’s copying each entry for the past two years. I’m going to tell him we’re keeping the appointment next month in Sacramento, and I’m not going to challenge your right. That way, Dad will either have to capitulate or fight you alone.”
“I don’t want to come between you and your father.”
“Ruth, you’re not. When you first arrived, I was admittedly upset that the will would be contested. However, I’m positive Alan wouldn’t ever accept how Dad’s been embezzling. All along I said it wasn’t what either of us wanted; it’s what your father would have wanted. I knew your father, Ruth.”
She slid her hand over his. “I know you did, Josh. I never met him, but from all you’ve said, I would have loved him.”
“He would have adored you, Ruth.” Josh cupped her cheek. “Sure as I sit here with you, I know he would have cherished the strong, witty, loving woman you are.”
Ruth closed her eyes to keep from crying. The tenderness of his words overwhelmed her. “Thank you, Josh.”
He withdrew his touch, and she felt bereft.
“I meant what I said, Ruth. I don’t want you to feel as if I’m pulling on your heartstrings to manipulate you.”
“You wouldn’t do that, Josh. You’re too honorable. It’s because I know you to be so truthful that your words carry weight with me.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Ruthie.”
They sat in silence for a moment, then he broke it. “Your father would want you to inherit your half rather than allow my father to use his position to cheat the hands, Hilda, and my sister. If it were just me, I’d not take action. I don’t need much to be happy. I’m asking you to step forward—for all of them.”
“When you go to town, would you please buy Hilda a new dress and apron, too?”
“Yes, Ruth—but will you please answer my question? Are you going to follow through on the claim?”
“For you and Laney, I’d do anything.”
