Love by the Letter (2 page)

Standing, Dex stretched and surveyed the fenced pastures, the repaired barn, the cellar he’d dug, and the hay fields he’d tended since quitting school twelve years ago. He was probably the only twelve-year-old boy in the world who was relieved when his father abandoned him. How could he complain since the beatings for every misspelled word had stopped, the one man God commanded him to respect never again told him he was worthless, and little girls in pinafores and braids could no longer outshine him on every test?

Like Rachel Oliver. The then six-year-old aced the spelling tests he flunked. He hadn’t yet finished the second grade primer to his teacher’s satisfaction, and Rachel had skipped through the first spelling book within a matter of weeks.

Good thing he left school a month later.

Or was it? Because now, if he wanted a wife, he’d have to write another letter—a better letter. One with all the words spelled right.

Maybe Rachel Oliver could help, but was it worth her finding out how stupid he really was? He’d worked hard to keep his secret from her. Anytime she’d joined his Bible study class, he’d find a need to attend another lest she wonder why he never volunteered to read. And the one time she had asked him to help with the children’s nativity, he’d thought he’d been safe volunteering to build the set—until she’d wandered into the freezing barn to ask him to work with one of the struggling wise men to learn his lines. The poor boy was confused about why they practiced in the basement, far away from the others.

Could he stand Rachel knowing he was dumber than dirt?

A thick, official-looking letter dropped in front of Rachel Oliver’s sheet music, and she fumbled the chord she was playing, the notes clashing together as if her family’s fat tabby had decided to walk across the ivories.

“Did you really have to do that?” She swiped the letter out of the way, but her eyes caught on the stamped return address. No need to finish practicing Beethoven’s Sonatina in G which she’d planned to play for Papa tonight. “Where’d you get this?”

“From the post office. Where else?” Her sister Patricia rolled her eyes.

“But I went to the post office with mother.”

“Not before eight this morning.”

Rachel hiked an eyebrow. Had her parents known her indolent sister had been dressed and traipsing about town that early? Nothing piqued Patricia’s interest . . . except flirting. “Were you with Everett?” If she had indeed been flirting, she better not answer with anyone else’s name.

Patricia’s normally striking smile turned glorious. What Rachel wouldn’t give for those perfectly straight teeth or the blond hair or—

“I spent all day with him.” She clasped her hands in front of her flounced skirt and twirled as if she’d been rescued by some knight instead of visiting the man who’d courted her the last few months. “We went to the mercantile so I could suggest some things to take with us to Kansas, ate at Calico Café, and then he took me to the confectioners’ for strawberries and cream.” She sighed. “A perfect morning.”

“Did you finish baking the bread?”

Her sister scowled in the most becoming way a person could possibly scowl. Rachel scowled back so the girl would know how to do it properly.

Patricia stuck out her tongue. “You always pooh-pooh everything.”

“Momma asked you to, and it’d be nice for her to remember you as an obedient daughter.” Plus, she didn’t want to get stuck with the baking. “I don’t want to do it for you.” Again.

“You talk as if I were dying instead of going with Neil to . . .” She fluttered her hand at the front wall of the parlor, which faced southeast—nowhere close to west. “. . . wherever it is we’re going.”

The door creaked open, and Neil’s dark, stocky form stepped through the doorway.

Patricia sidled over to their brother. “You don’t think my walking out with Everett today was wasted time, do you?” She laced her arm through his and looked at her sister smugly. “I learned all about wagon stuff. I could advise you on what you need for our trip.”

“No need.” He patted her arm with little enthusiasm.

“Oh, so you’ve already done that?” She batted her big blue eyes.

He nodded at their sister, but Rachel saw the slight shake of his head after Patricia looked away.

“See?” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Neil doesn’t fault me for not making bread.”

He rubbed his stubbly chin. “I
am
hungry.”

Patricia frowned. “You could have let me know.” She pranced out of the parlor and turned in the direction of the kitchen.

Like a specter, Neil glided over to the settee and noiselessly dropped upon it. He leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee.

Rachel glanced at her unopened letter, but Neil rarely remained in the room with her—or any female besides Patricia for that matter. “You must be anxious about leaving.” She moved to the settee. “We’ll miss you.”

“You’ll hardly know I’m gone.” His smile was self-abasing. His hazel eyes and heavy jaw matched hers, and yet he was rather handsome for a brother.

“You might not say much, but your presence is soothing—especially when Patricia’s in the room and I want to tear my hair out, or hers. I’m not picky which.” She smiled.” But I’ll miss her too, of course.”

“You can still come with us. It’d be better than New York.”

She snagged her letter. “This one’s thick. I might be going to Tennessee instead.”

“Ma know?”

She slid the envelope around in her hands. Mary Sharp College in Winchester would not appeal to her mother’s fancy ideals like Elmira Female College in New York. But she’d be more comfortable in Tennessee, and she’d still be going to one of those newfangled colleges that awarded women degrees equal to men’s. Momma would just have to content herself with Tennessee.

Neil tipped her chin up, and the probing look in his eye and the uncharacteristic physical contact squeezed her heart.

She slipped across the seat and folded him in her arms. “I’ll miss you.”

He slowly wrapped his arms around her and awkwardly patted her back, then bussed the top of her head. “You’ll do well at either school.”

She held onto her brother, memorizing the feel of his firm chest and the smell of musk and wool. But within seconds, he started fidgeting, so she gave him a little girl grin and returned to sitting more ladylike. “Thank you, but your job will be harder than mine. You’ll have Patricia.”

He shrugged.

She’d never understood how her parents had produced a child as different as Patricia, but perhaps being the baby and spoiled was not a good thing. And for some reason, even Neil seemed to give in to her. “What are you going to do when she marries Everett? There won’t be a word spoken in your little hovel for months on end.”

His smile lit with genuine amusement, but then drooped.

“You’ll miss her.”

He breathed in sharply through his nose and scratched behind his ear, his fingers disappearing in his thick dark locks.

“How far will you travel before you settle? Do you think Patricia can handle all that walking?”

Neil shrugged. “As close to the Sixth Principal Meridian as we can get, I imagine.” He re-situated himself and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “And she’ll manage. She’d follow Everett anywhere.”

Rachel clucked. “She’d follow any pretty boy anywhere.” Though she couldn’t imagine dainty little Patricia walking her way to Kansas without any fuss.

Neil frowned.

“Sorry, I know she says she’s serious this time.” Rachel fought not to roll her eyes. Patricia would probably start whining the first day. But their brother thought the sun rose and set on their sister for some reason. And he defended her mightily . . . using as few words as possible. But then, Patricia jabbered enough excuses for herself that he hardly had a need. “And you wouldn’t take her unless you were sure she was committed since Everett hasn’t proposed.”

“Yet.” Patricia sashayed back into the room, her hands on her hips. She stopped at Rachel’s side but remained standing, the better to peer down at her, she supposed. “He’ll ask me when he gets settled, when he’s ready.”

Yes, Everett would commit, but would Patricia? Neil, Papa, and Momma believed he could hold the seventeen-year-old’s attention for the rest of her days. But if he didn’t? Patricia would have far fewer men to flirt with on the prairie. Then again, maybe the isolation
would get her focus off impressing others with her hair and dress and onto good, honest work.

Rachel stole a glance back at her letter. She needed to stop wasting her time and start school. She should have already been a junior. If only she hadn’t wasted two years waiting for . . . well, never mind. That flimsy excuse would leave along with her siblings.

Sighing, she reached for the letter opener. She had absolutely no reason, or rather, no man to entice her into going to western Kansas Territory with her siblings, so hopefully she’d be headed to Tennessee over New York.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

She froze at the sound of the warm, rumbling voice. Certainly he wouldn’t be at her door now. Not after she’d given up waiting.

The visitor knocked. “Hello?”

But it was him. No one else’s voice was that smooth and buttery. She dropped the letter, adjusted her skirt, and glanced toward the rippled windowpane to check her reflection.

Patricia sat on a nearby chair and picked up the tatting she’d left there earlier. “It’s for you, Neil.”

Her brother pushed himself off the settee and strolled out the door. “Dex.”

“Neil, nice to see you.”

Hinges whined, followed by the slapping of hands on backs.

Swallowing to wet her abnormally dry mouth, Rachel forced herself to retrieve her acceptance letter. Since Dex was going with her siblings on the wagon train, he must be there to talk over plans with them. Nothing more. If he’d never visited her in the years she’d hung around waiting for him to notice her, he wasn’t there to see her today.

Dex and Neil tromped into the parlor, and Patricia slapped on her prettiest smile.

But Rachel didn’t smile. If she did, Dex would have no choice but to compare her sister’s flawless smile with her own gapped-tooth, flat one.

Without asking permission, Dex plopped beside her, making gooseflesh ripple up her arms. She scooted to give him more room, and Neil dropped onto the piano bench across from them.

Her hands fluttered conspicuously, so she slid her letter onto the end table and rammed her hands under her legs.

Dex inclined his head toward her. She pasted on a grin.

After no one spoke for a spell, Patricia narrowed an eye at her before clearing her throat. “Can I get you tea, Mr. Stanton?”

Rachel looked away, feeling the pink in her cheeks for not even seeing to their guest’s comfort. But Patricia needed the practice anyway. She’d have to be a hospitable hostess for the lodging and trading post Neil intended to run—and later as Everett’s wife.

“That’d be mighty nice, thank you.”

“Rachel? Neil?” Patricia turned to her siblings for answers.

Neil nodded, and Rachel whispered, “Yes.”

Oh, why did Dex have to sit right next to her? The tremors of his jostling leg shook the seat, making her want to put a hand on his knee to stop the quaking. A rush of heat swooped up behind her ears the second she let her imaginary hand feel his knee beneath her fingertips. She turned toward her brother. Maybe he’d start a conversation for once.

He only eyed her.

Dex cleared his throat. “Since we’re planning on leaving next Sunday after services, I’m going around and making sure everyone is set.” He squirmed, and her skirt pulled.

She looked down to find him grinding a corner of her green and tan plaid gingham under the heel of his boot.

“You all have everything you need?”

Neil nodded, and Patricia returned with four cups of tea. She handed one to everyone and sat. The mantle clock’s ticking seemed to slow. Dex stared at his lap as if he found his knees highly captivating.

Was he all right? He looked a little sweaty.

She took a drink to moisten her mouth. She was going to have to say something before the silence got out of hand.

“Is the sale of your farm final?” Neil’s bass voice startled her. They must all be out of sorts if he was the sociable one.

“Yes, Grant and Lily are moved in and comfortable. I’m sending Luther and his wife their part of the money for the farm, so I’m squared away.” He glanced down at his nervous footwork, then jerked his foot off her dress, tearing a bit of the ruffle with the action.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to worry about.” She stared at the ripped fabric. Nothing for him to worry about anyway. But maybe instead of mending it, she’s snip it off and make a bookmark. She shook her head at herself. Stupid thought. Her college roommates would question her ability
to add two and two let alone excel in trigonometry if they discovered the reason behind her scrap memento.

Dex just needed to leave town. The man had never given her two thoughts, was always finding a reason to leave the room when she appeared, and so it was time to put away her Patricia-like obsession over him.

But the fixation wasn’t Patricia-like at all. The men her sister fancied followed her around like bawling calves.