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

by Cynthia Hickey

  She clasped her hands behind her and leaned against the railing. “No, that’ll be Deborah. She has the eye for pretty things. I’m the organizer.” She set her gaze on him, her look softening. “Be glad for me, John. And for y’all. Now, you and Luke can get your lives back like they were before the war. Free from a group of meddlesome women.”

  “What if I happen to like one of the meddlesome women?” He reached for her.

  Taking a step back, Ruth shook her head. “I’m not the one for you, John. The problems I carry would fill ten carpet bags.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s better for me to leave.”

  “Leave Painted Bluff?” His heart sank.

  “No. Move out of the house.” She ducked her head. “Leave you to find someone worthy of you.” Scooting around him, she dashed to the house.

  John doubled his fist, wanting nothing more than to punch the closest post. Instead, he headed to the stable to saddle Buster. A ride would clear his head. Maybe help him come up with a plan to get Ruth right with God and win the stubborn girl’s heart. He kicked at a rock, sending it rolling.

  Who was he kidding? Ruth seemed adamant against having a man in her life. He wasted his time on stupid dreams.

  Once he’d saddled and rode Buster out of the livery, he headed toward the river. He didn’t want to sit on the bluff, his usual place to get away, because now he associated the spot with Ruth by his side.

  The high sun bore down upon his shoulders. Rivulets sweat ran down his back. Buster picked his way down the rocky trail, his hooves clip-clopping against loose stones, until they made it to the shoreline. Men bustled around The River’s Pride readying her for a trip down the river. Likely the boat’s return trip would bring more residents to Painted Bluff.

  Another reason for John to be thankful for Luke’s life. As the town grew, it would be too difficult for either of them to handle alone.

  John tilted his hat and glanced at the rooftops peeking over the ridge. The sound of hammers drifted through the air. Progress. Something he hoped would make life easier for the family he someday wanted. His fiancé leaving had shattered that illusion, until Ruth’s arrival. Now, he was right back where he started, alone, while life moved forward around him.

  He sent a prayer of repentance heavenward, regretting his discontent in the situation God placed him in. His Heavenly Father had a purpose and a plan. John needed to be still until things were revealed.

  He turned and followed the riverbank until he reached the shanties. The people had taken his advice and rebuilt farther from the water’s edge. He’d hoped they would’ve built better quality homes, but folks did what they could.

  He once asked for volunteers from town to improve the circumstances of the former slaves, and been shot down. Folks weren’t ready to give what little they had to help those they’d fought to keep enslaved. It’d taken over a year for them to accept John and elect him sheriff.

  Waving at a group of young boys fishing from the riverbank, John headed toward town. By the time he arrived, the aromas of beef stew and warm biscuits greeted him, along with the rowdy conversation of hungry farmers, and the music of Ruth’s laughter. His stomach rumbled in response.

  He loved the sound, and would sure as toot’n still have his meals at the new Ruth’s Place. If for nothing more than to see her face every day. Even if she tried to drive him away.

  Chapter 18

  True to his word, Moses had the jobs completed by week’s end. Ruth stood, hands on hips, and surveyed her new domain. How wonderful to own her own home. Because of the cost of repairs, the bank sold it to her rather than lease the neglected building. With Moses’s help, it looked like a home.

  “I don’t know why we had to move.” Deborah dropped a carpetbag at her feet. “Now, we’ve got to go farther to tend to Luke. And this place is so small.”

  “Luke doesn’t need around-the-clock tending anymore. I don’t think he needs to be nursed at all. He just likes the attention.” Ruth hefted the bag. “They know where to find us if they need us. You did a great job on the ‘couple’s’ room. You’ve got a real eye for pretty things.”

  Tables for two, covered in crisp white tablecloths, sat nestled against the walls. Hurricane lamps with new candles were positioned in the center of each table, along with vases for flowers or greenery.

  “I’m hoping a gentleman will ask me to dine some evening,” Deborah said. “I’m getting tired of only serving them. I want to do more than drudge along each day, slopping food onto plates.”

  “It’s an honest living. Besides, teachers have to be single.” Ruth led her upstairs and tossed the bag on one of the beds. “Have you spoken to Luke about a school?”

  “He said he’d speak with the town’s men about getting something ready for the fall.” She plopped backwards on the corn-shuck mattress. “I can’t wait. This town ought to be busting at the seams by then. But, fall does seem a long ways away. It’s only the end of June.”

  Grandma and Sarah each carried a box and sat them on the floor. Sarah wiped her hands on her skirt. “Good. Maybe then, we’ll have some excitement around here. And don’t expect me to attend your school. I’ve had all the learning I need.” With those words, she flounced out of the room.

  Ruth shrugged. “I guess at sixteen, she’s old enough not to attend a small country school. Ma and Pa would’ve wanted more for her, but I’m too tired to argue.” Seems that was all she did with her youngest sister. She eyed the other bed in the room. “Let’s get the linens on and get to sleep. We’ve got a restaurant to reopen in the morning.”

  In her new sleeping quarters, try as she might, Ruth couldn’t get her brain to shut off. The nightmare of her time with the bushwhackers spun through her mind like wind rifling the pages of a book. Careful not to wake Deborah, she slipped from bed and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders before making her way downstairs. She stepped onto the front porch.

  Humidity hung in the air like a thin, wet sheet, while locusts buzzed and bullfrogs serenaded. Otherwise, the street lay in slumber beneath a moonless sky. Ruth sighed and leaned her elbows against the railing. She missed John already, and they’d only left his house that morning.

  She glanced at the stars, and almost gave in to the fanciful notion of making a wish. As if she’d conjured him with her thoughts, John strolled down the street. His long legs ate up the distance. Mortified she’d stepped outside in her nightgown, Ruth pulled deeper into the shadows.

  “Even’n, Ruth.”

  “John. What brings you out this time of night?” Ruth lowered herself into a straight-backed chair and kept her shawl securely wrapped around her.

  “One last check before I turn in.” His boots clomped on the sidewalk as he stopped at the base of her house’s steps. “What are you doing up?”

  “Too wound up to sleep, I guess. I’m strung tighter than a spool of thread.” They spoke like a couple of polite strangers. Sticking to her resolve of letting him be, so he could find someone better would be difficult. Especially when all she wanted was to dash down the steps and stroll through town with him. Hang on his arm and declare to the world that John Powell was her man. She cleared her throat. “I’m excited about moving into a place of my own.”

  He tipped his hat. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then. Sleep well.” Hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders slumped, John headed down the street, a mournful whistle on his lips.

  Ruth stretched out a hand to stop him, then let it drop to her lap. She needed to be strong.

  *

  John passed the jail. Light snores came from behind the bars. Two local boys cutting up after a couple of drinks. He glanced toward the saloon. He’d like to close the place down, but figured the men needed an outlet after a hard day’s work, and Luke liked to indulge now and then too. As long as all John dealt with was occasional rowdiness, he still had it better than other towns up and down the river.

  Standing on the porch in her white cotton gown, her thick hair around her shoulders, Ruth had seem
ed like a heavenly apparition. What would it be like to wake up beside her every morning?

  He’d like nothing better than to complete his rounds and head to a home where Ruth waited for him. Still amazed at how quickly his resolve not to fall for another woman had dissipated, John shook his head. God definitely worked in mysterious ways.

  He knew God wouldn’t put another woman in his heart, then have her shatter it into a million shards. But, the waiting for Ruth to come around was as hard as teaching a chicken to dance. Patience was something the Good Lord left out when he created John Powell.

  He turned at the end of the street and headed back toward home. Ruth no longer sat on the porch, and no lamp burned in the windows. John sighed. He’d hoped for one more glimpse of her.

  At home, a light flickered in the window of Luke’s study, and John headed there instead of to his small cabin. No sense in brooding alone. Not if he didn’t have to. He stepped inside.

  Luke hunched over his desk. He scratched some notes on a scrap of paper.

  “I’m surprised to see you still up.” John straddled a straight-back chair. “Shouldn’t you still be getting a lot of rest?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Luke set his pencil down. “I’m trying to draw up some plans for a schoolhouse. Promised the middle Stallings I’d have something built by fall.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard. All you need is a building.”

  Luke leaned back in his chair. “And desks, a chalkboard, primers, etc. Not to mention a stove, pegs in the wall, and she wants a map, not just a globe. Plus, we’ll need an outhouse dug. She actually wants two. One for the boys and one for the girls. I’ve never heard of such a thing. I never would’ve guessed the pretty little thing could be so demanding. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get our hands on all these things by fall?”

  “Some of it can be built right here. If the town’s big enough, maybe the capitol will help.”

  Luke tossed his pencil on the desk. “Maybe.” He narrowed his eyes and studied John. “How are things going with Ruth?”

  “They aren’t.” John rested his chin on his crossed arms. “I’ve felt the way her gaze follows me, but our latest conversations might as well be between two mere acquaintances. She’s the best person I’ve ever met at keeping someone at an arm’s distance. Plus, there’s her lack of faith to be considered.”

  Luke shrugged. “Seems like a silly reason not to court someone.”

  “Not to me. My faith is important, and the Bible is clear on unequal yoking.” Maybe if they could get a full-time preacher in Painted Bluff, Ruth would darken the doors of the church a time or two. He’d placed an advertisement in newspapers across the state. Might as well try for a doctor too.

  Luke turned back to his task. “I still say you place too much stock in that Book. If you want the woman, pursue her.”

  John shook his head, stood, and then headed to his cabin. He wished he could repair Luke’s misguided notion on life, but that wasn’t his job. The burden, thankfully, rested on the Lord’s more-than-able shoulders.

  The absence of light and conversation slammed into him as he strode to his cabin. How easy it would be to take Luke’s advice, but John wanted a love that lasted a lifetime. Not a wisp of satisfaction, a moment of lust tossed on the wind. So, when and if, he married, it would be to a woman who loved and trusted God. Someone he could spend the rest of his life with. A marriage built on God’s solid foundation.

  *

  Sleep still took a long time coming. Ruth rolled over and punched her pillow, then forced her eyes to stay closed. By the time she gave up, the sun peeked over the horizon, filling the room with a golden glow. Sand gritted her eyelids. She groaned, kicked the blankets off, then crawled from bed. Their first morning in their new home, and she’d be moving as if weighted with thick clay.

  “Good morning,” Grandma sang as she cut dough for biscuits. Tilly worked beside her, and offered a shy smile in Ruth’s direction.

  “Sleep well?” Grandma asked.

  Ruth shook her head and reached for the coffee pot. “Must’ve been the new place. It’s a little nosier here on Main Street than it was up at Luke’s.”

  “Really?” Grandma shrugged. “I didn’t hear a thing. Was up before the sun, happily getting things together for breakfast.”

  Ruth blew into the mug and watched the ripples radiate outward. Somehow, she’d have to find something else to keep her up at night, rather than dwell on thoughts of John.

  She gulped the coffee, and winced as the liquid singed the roof of her mouth. Closing her eyes against the pain, she plopped the mug on the counter. “It’s good to see you, Tilly. I’m glad for your offer of help.”

  “I’m thankful for the job, ma’am. And we’re most appreciative of the assistance you gave so we could build us a church.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me Ruth, please. I’m certain we’ll be great friends.” Ruth grabbed an apron. “I’ll get started on the eggs.”

  “Hold up a minute.” Grandma wiped her hands on her apron. “There’s something I want to say to you. I hope you won’t be mad, but I’ve got to think of my own life, as well as what’s best for you girls. Now that you’ve hired Tilly, my news won’t be too bad.”

  Ruth studied her grandmother’s face. Did she want to return to Tupelo? Nothing waited for them in their former town but poverty and heartache.

  “Hank Johnson asked me to marry him. I said yes, as soon as we get ourselves a preacher.”

  “Why would I be upset?” Ruth laid a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You deserve to be happy as much as the rest of us.”

  “Well, once I’ve got my own place again, I might not be able to spend as much time here helping you. Then, Deborah’s got her heart set on teaching, and Sarah will be gone like a wiff of smoke first chance she gets.” Her gaze locked on Ruth’s. “Don’t want you to be all alone.”

  “I won’t. Tilly’s here.” Ruth wrapped her arms around her. “You won’t be far. Hank lives right over the mercantile. That’s next door. Deborah will most likely still live with me, and Sarah isn’t going anywhere.” Ruth’s heart lurched. Would the restaurant be too much for her and Tilly? She’d need a job to support herself and Sarah, but feeding the town’s men might be more work than she could handle on her own. “Tilly, can you cook?”

  She nodded. “I’m a right fine cook, ma’am. Did that before being set free.”

  “Wonderful.” Ruth pulled back and held Grandma at arm’s length. “I’m happy for you. Hank’s a nice man. He’ll do right by you.”

  Ruth would worry about the cloud of loneliness that hovered on the horizon another day.

  Chapter 19

  Ruth leaned against the door post and took a moment to watch Grandmother and Hank gaze at each other with stars in their eyes. The pair were the most frequent couple to use the newly dubbed “courting room.”

  With a small smile, Ruth turned back to the kitchen. She had too many responsibilities to indulge in something as frivolous as love. Maybe someday, when she had a comfortable nest egg built up, she could look for someone to spend her old age with. They’d sit in rockers on the porch and watch life stroll by or whatever it was old folks did. With money in the bank, she’d never be as poor, or work as hard as her parents had after the war.

  “Those two are as giddy as young folk.” Tilly grinned.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “You and the sheriff ought to try out that new, fancy room.”

  “No, it’s not like that with us.” Ruth took a peek at the bread. Browning to perfection. Tilly was definitely a blessing. “We’re just friends.”

  Tilly’s raised eyebrows showed she believed otherwise, but she held her tongue.

  The squeaky backdoor opened and the sheriff stepped inside. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, John.” Things would’ve been better for her to call him Mister Powell or sheriff, rather than the intimacy of being on a first-name basis. Especially with her resolve to remain only friends, but s
he loved the way his name left a sweet taste in her mouth, and they’d known each other long enough to dismiss the formalities.

  “The parson will be here in two weeks. Think Miriam will be ready to be a bride again?”

  “I think she’s ready now.” Ruth pulled a loaf of bread from the oven. “I’ve never seen someone as rosy-cheeked about a man as my grandmother.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll be that way about a beau.” John straddled a chair and peered at her over his crossed arms. “Mornin’, Tilly.”

  She nodded and moved to the dining room, her thin arms weighted with clean linens.

  “I doubt it.” Ruth covered the warm loaves with a cotton towel, and tossed what she hoped was a carefree smile at him. “I’m too sharp-tongued to settle down.”

  “Nah, you’re just sassy, but the right man won’t mind.” His eyes darkened, stealing her breath. “Some might find it downright attractive. Some prefer women with a backbone. Someone to be their partner, working side-by-side to build a life and raise a passel of kids.”

  She forced a laugh past the mountain in her throat. “Coming from a confirmed bachelor, that statement is humorous.” She turned back to her baking, afraid he’d see in her face what she tried carefully to keep hidden. Maybe she should set her cap for John. Stop trying to be so independent. Would it be so terrible for a man to take care of her? No. If he ever found out what had happened in the bushwhacker camp, he’d want nothing to do with her. Better to keep her distance now, rather than risk a broken heart later.

  “Who told you I was a confirmed bachelor?” John set his hat on the table. “I don’t recall those words ever coming out of my mouth. Sure, there was a time I nursed some bitterness, but, now, I see the positive in getting a wife and settling down. The Bible says it isn’t good for man to be alone.”