“No, I’m not.”
“I didn’t mean to startle the poor pony,” Mrs. O’Sullivan halfwhispered.
“This one’s daft, Ma. Josh thought to geld him, but Eddie Lufe’s wanting a stallion.”
“Well, now, Eddie Lufe’s a powerful moose of a man. I’m not sayin’ he’s cruel, because he’s not; but the man tends to be firm with his beasts. It’ll be a good match, I’m sure.”
“Did you need something, Ma?”
“Aye. Your da heard the horses, and he’d love to see what you buy. If I walk him out to the porch, could you bring the new ponies up to him?”
Galen glanced at a fencepost shadow, and Josh understood he was determining the time. “You have a relay due in?”
“Aye.”
“You get the horse ready. I’ll go help your dad onto the porch.”
“I can take care of Cullen.”
Josh rested his hands on his hips. “Mrs. O’Sullivan, you’re the one who said it’s a fine spring day. With it being so nice, I reckon I could bring your husband down the steps, into the sunshine.”
“Make it a picnic, Ma.” Galen climbed over the corral fence and went into the stable.
Cullen O’Sullivan passed judgment on the two mustangs and agreed the stallion ought to go to Eddie Lufe. Josh hadn’t brought the stallion over to the ailing man—he didn’t want to chance a problem, but it was good to see how the ponies allowed him to lead them right up to Mr. O’Sullivan’s chair and tolerated his touch.
When Galen helped his father back into the house, Josh reached over and stilled Mrs. O’Sullivan as she started to pick up from lunch. He said in a quiet tone, “I plan to help out around here.”
She looked up at him. “Galen’s doin’ a fine job.”
“You all are. But that’s not to say there isn’t plenty to do. Galen’s my friend, and I aim to help him—but you’ll make it easier if you accept my offers. Same as when the girls come over. I want you to put them to work. They want you to—we discussed it last night.”
“Josh—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “Hilda won’t let them lift a hand around the house. She holds the crazy notion that Dad’ll let her go if he thinks the girls can handle matters. That being the case, you can put them to chores so they help out and learn how to organize themselves. Both have fancy training, but when it comes to practicalities, they’re lost. I don’t think either of them could cook a complete meal.”
“I’ve taught them to make stew. They both can make a decent pot now.”
Josh grinned. “Great! Don’t hesitate to rope ’em into pitching in and helping out. Consider it training for the day they become wives.”
“I’m happy to do things with them. You know that.”
“They’re happy to do things with you and for you.”
“They come as guests, Josh. I’m not about to ruin every visit by expecting them to do my labors.”
“You’ll be giving them the opportunity to learn valuable skills. Surely you can see how important it is for them to be able to do all of those sorts of things. They need a woman’s guidance and wisdom. I can’t think of a finer Christian woman to teach them.”
“If I listened to your cockeyed plan, I’ll be getting far more from those lasses than a guest should ever give.”
He chuckled. “I’ve worried more than once you’d consider them to be pests, not guests. Remember what the Good Book says in Acts: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.”’
“I heard your asking price on those mustangs.” She gave him a meaningful look. “You’re ranch is already giving and my family’s receiving plenty.”
Josh scoffed. “I know the Pony Express paid up to two hundred dollars for some of their horses, but you and I both know that’s absurd—especially for common little mustangs. I got ’em for a song and used spare time to saddle break ’em. Broken P’s making a profit.”
“God bless you, Josh. You know my boys are longing for horses of their own.”
“They’ll put ’em to good use.”
He heard hooves flying and turned. Galen came out of the house and ran to the relay pony. Mrs. O’Sullivan grabbed the sandwich, hitched up her skirts, and ran, too.
“Trouble!” the rider shouted from seventy yards away. “Trouble!”
CHAPTER TEN
It was bound to happen,” Mr. McCain said as he poured gravy over his plate.
“But an entire Pony Express station?” Laney took a dab of mashed potatoes and set down the bowl.
“Paiutes ain’t friendly.” McCain shook his fork at his son. “I told you this’d happen.”
Josh nodded. “I didn’t expect them to act so quickly or fiercely.”
“Where is—I mean was—Williams Station?” Ruth pushed the butter beans around on her plate.
“Oh, my word!” Laney’s eyes grew huge. “You barely got here, Ruth! The Indians could have attacked the stagecoach.”
“But they didn’t.” Ruth lifted her chin. “We’ll have to pray for the men who continue to serve the Pony Express.”
“Prayin’ isn’t going to amount to a hill of beans’ worth of difference,” McCain muttered. “You’ve got thousands of heathens roamin’ around out there, eager to make trouble.”
“Are you referring to the attack on Fort Defiance?” Ruth asked.
“That too. Them Navajos up and went after a United States fort end of last month. Today, they mounted an attack against the Pony.”
“I thought you said the Paiutes attacked Williams Station,” Laney said quietly.
“They did,” Josh said in support.
McCain heaved a sigh. “Mark my words, this is just the start of it, and the Pony Express business is going to have an uphill fight on their hands. They cross the land of dozens of bands of Indians, and the redskins won’t put up with it for long.”
“The Pony Express isn’t going to buckle under from one incident,” Josh said. “Once the natives see that the stations and riders are peaceful, matters ought to cool down—at least that’s the general wisdom.”
“That sounds right,” Ruth said. “It’s not reasonable to expect them to understand our motives. Some things take time.”
“Any business suffers losses, and the Pony Express is a dangerous one.” Josh cut more of his meat. “I’m sure they anticipated some of this, but the loss of life is a travesty.”
“Why d’you think they advertised for orphans to be their riders?” McCain took a huge bite of pot roast.
“I read that most of the riders aren’t orphans,” Ruth said. “But even if they were, it would still be a shame.”
“We don’t have the particulars yet,” Josh said. “Could be the station employees snuck off. Just because the station was attacked doesn’t mean the people are dead.”
“Hope they are.” McCain shoveled more food into his mouth. “Indians torture their captives.”
Laney gasped and went pale.
Josh and Ruth exchanged a glance. Ruth hurriedly said, “Since we don’t know the details, suppositions won’t do us any good or change matters. Josh, you rode off with three ponies. I noticed when you came back, you didn’t have any.”
He took her lead beautifully and plunged right in on the changed subject. “Yup. Time came to sell ’em. O’Sullivans bought the mare and the gelding.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” A little color returned to Laney’s cheeks. “I told Galen they were wonderful.”
“He didn’t need to be told. He assessed them for himself. The man’s got a good eye for horseflesh and handles the animals well.”
Josh nodded. “They took to him straight off.”
“What about that stallion?” McCain took a gulp of coffee.
“Sold it to Eddie Lufe. He’s tickled pink to have him, but I’m happier to be rid of the stupid beast. I’ve never seen a horse more bent on causing trouble. I said so to Lufe, and the crazy man just laughed. He can’t say I didn’t warn him.”
Ruth listened to the conve
rsation and appreciated that Josh hadn’t tried to deceive a buyer by misrepresenting the horse. Just as he said my father’s will should be settled according to what he would have wanted instead of trying to keep everything for himself. He’s such an honorable man.
“Ruth, please pass the gravy,” McCain asked.
“Here. Would you like more mashed potatoes, too?”
“Nah.” He paused. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”
Ruth sent the gravy and potatoes to Josh so he could hand them to his father. “How many horses and cattle do you sell each year?”
“It varies,” Josh said.
“No need for you to fret over those details, girl.” Mr. McCain plopped a mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate and grabbed the gravy boat. “Plenty enough to keep you and my Laney as the best-dressed gals around.”
“I’m not worried about my wardrobe.”
“What are you worried about?” Laney tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed. “Tell us. I’m sure Daddy and Josh can help.”
“It’s all this talk about Indians. Poor girl’s scared half out of her wits,” McCain declared. “Well, Ruth, you needn’t worry anymore. You’re safe here. You’ll never have to face crossing the continent again, so you can calm down and enjoy your meal.”
“You’ve hardly eaten a bite,” Laney said.
“Only because I’ve spoken so much. I’m very interested in what’s going on in the world, and the conversation engaged me fully.” Ruth picked up her fork. “Hilda is a wonderful cook. I’ve enjoyed every meal I’ve eaten at this table.”
“It didn’t occur to me to offer you the newspaper,” Josh said. “Mom and Laney never bothered with it.”
“Women aren’t interested in men’s affairs,” McCain said. “Though the Sacramento Bee does have an article or two that might amuse you, Ruth.”
Ruth felt obliged to respond. She swallowed thickly and gathered her courage. “Back home, I read the paper to Mama. We enjoyed conversing about the articles.”
“I look at the advertisements sometimes,” Laney said. She gave Ruth a longing look. “If you’re used to reading articles aloud, I’d listen.”
“You girls might enjoy that.” Josh nodded.
McCain shook his finger at them. “Before you go any further, promise me you’re not going to try to talk me into buying a bunch of those ridiculous patent medicines and nonsense in those advertisements.”
“I know better,” Ruth said. “They don’t work.” The huge collection of bottles and medicinal powders on Mama’s dresser hadn’t improved her health one iota.
Laney perked up. “See? We won’t ask for anything silly. Will we, Ruth?”
Laney’s hopeful look banished Ruth’s sorrow. A thought pinged through Ruth’s mind. “Laney and I would love to have the newspaper when you’re done with it.” She shot Laney a conspiratorial smile. She’d be able to read all of the stories to stay well-informed, but she also decided Laney might do well to use headlines or advertisements to learn to read better. Silently congratulating herself, Ruth lifted a bite to her mouth.
God is providing all that I need.
She didn’t even mind that some of the bite fell off of her fork. After all, it landed back on her plate.
“Now let’s look at the Bee and see what words you already recognize.” Ruth spread the newspaper out on the bed.
Laney stared at it from across the room as if it were a whole knot of snakes.
“Laney, remember how you helped me get gravy out of my bodice last night?”
“Yes. It came out completely, didn’t it?”
“Of course it did. You knew exactly what to do. I would have used hot water and set in the stain, though. If you weren’t such a dear friend, I would have been embarrassed to ask you for help.”
“You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t be embarrassed to have you teach me to read now.”
“See how smart you are? You figured that out right away.”
“It’s not going to work.” Tears filled Laney’s eyes.
“Now how do you like that?” Ruth asked the room. “Here I thought Laney and I were friends and we trusted one another. And I thought she believed in God.”
“God has nothing to do with this.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re supposed to commit our undertakings to the Lord, and as long as they are in His will, He blesses them.”
Laney looked stunned.
Ruth pounced on the opening. “See? That’s why this is going to work. Now you march right over here, and we’re going to kneel by this bed and ask our heavenly Father for His blessing.” Ruth slipped off the bed and knelt there.
Laney’s steps lagged, but she came over and slowly lowered herself. Resting her elbows on the mattress, she asked, “Do you really believe this, or are you just pretending so I’ll get my hopes up?”
Ruth clasped Laney’s hand in hers. “Psalm thirty-seven says, ‘Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.’ We’re going to commit this to Him and trust Him with it. If you truly want to read, Laney, I’m sure He will bless your efforts.”
“I never thought of it that way.” Laney bowed her head. “Lord, I want to read. You know how much I want to read. I never thought to ask you to help me, but I’m asking you now. Please help Ruth to teach me. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”
“Amen,” Ruth chimed in. As she rose, she directed, “Go get a pencil.”
“I want to read, not write,” Laney said.
“You are going to read. I’m going to have you circle all of the words you know on the newspaper.”
An hour later, Ruth took the pencil from Laney. “That was great. Now we need to go ahead and paint for a while so when your father asks, you can honestly tell him you and I painted this morning.”
Ruth folded the newspaper and slipped it into her bureau. Later that night, she took it back out. Laney’s self-confidence needed a boost. She’d been able to read scattered words on two pages—far more than Ruth had anticipated. Carefully reviewing those words, Ruth took out the pencil and started to construct sentences. Much later, she put away her work and blew out the lamp. Tomorrow, Laney would read a whole story, one full page with nothing more than the words she already knew.
“Josh, could I please come into the barn?”
Josh slung the saddle on his horse and gave Ruth a stern look. “Why?”
“I need to get the hammer.”
“You didn’t tear off the outhouse door again, did you?”
“No.”
“Then what do you need a hammer for? Dad already said you’re not to add on to the coop.”
“I just want to hang a few pictures in my room.”
He headed her way. “How heavy are they?”
“Oh, they’re light. Why?”
“I need to figure out what nails to use.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t need nails.”
“What are you going to use?”
“Sewing needles.” She stated that fact as if it made all the sense in the world.
“Why would you use a needle when we have nails?”
“Sewing needles are amazingly strong. They support a lot of weight, and they don’t leave big holes in the wall.” She smiled. “Some of the girls at one of the schools showed me that. It’s always worked like a charm.”
“You could barely hit a nail with the hammer. How do you expect to hit a skinny little needle?”
“I’ll hold it in place with my comb.”
Josh tilted his head back and stared at the rafters. This woman is going to drive me daft.
“If you’d rather I not use your tools, I could try to use the heel of my boots. I’m sure I could make do.”
“You’d use a needle, comb, and boot to hang a picture.” He looked her in the eye. “Ruth, doesn’t that strike you as rather … eccentric?”
“I’m trying
to be practical.” She hitched her shoulder in a casual, it’s-really-nothing air. “I’m using what’s on hand to get the job done.”
Envisioning her bashing her heel through the plaster wall, he decided she wasn’t about to do the task. “How many pictures?”
“Three. Laney painted one of them. It’s a wonderful miniature of a cottage.”
“Laney’s good with a paintbrush. She did that landscape over the piano.”
“I didn’t know she painted that! It’s exquisite.”
Josh nodded. “Wish she was as good at playing the piano as she was at the painting over it. All that money Dad spent for her lessons, and Sis couldn’t pound out a tune if her life depended on it.”
“I’ve heard her sing. She has a beautiful voice.”
“Yeah. If she spends a little time at the piano, she can pick out a tune; but give her some of that sheet music, and she slaughters the song in ways that would make the composer rip it to shreds.”
Ruth’s brow furrowed.
Josh felt guilty for his disloyalty. “But as you said, her voice is real nice.”
Ruth cast a glance around, then leaned forward. “Josh, I know Laney struggles with reading.”
He jolted. Ashamed as she felt about her illiteracy, Laney never revealed that shortcoming to anyone.
“Doesn’t it occur to you, if she can’t decipher words, it’s probably equally difficult for her to read music? Following the notes’ placement on the staff would not be unlike reading.”
“Never thought of it that way. Makes sense, though.” He locked eyes with Ruth. “You know Laney’s feelings would be crushed if you let her know you found out—about her reading.”
“Laney told me.”
Ruth’s revelation nearly knocked him clean out of his boots.
“I know it’s a secret, so don’t worry. I’ll be worthy of her trust.”
“That’s good of you.”
Earth grated beneath boots in the distance. Ruth reached up to shove one of her ever-escaping curls back into a pin and raised her voice, “So may I please have a hammer?”
“I’ll take care of it for you later.” There. That would keep her from knocking holes in the wall.
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