Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “If a bride loves the groom, won’t that season the marriage?” Laney watched as Mrs. O’Sullivan continued to knead the dough.

  “It didn’t work for Leah in the Bible,” Ruth said.

  “That’s right. It didn’t, and she was miserable. You lasses give God time to bring the right man to you. I’m not hurrying my bread into the oven. It has to have time to rest and grow. Same goes for love—you need time to court and go through some ups and downs.”

  Ruth leaned against the pump. “That’s a lot of wisdom, but I’m afraid if I ever meet a man who captures my interest, I’ll want to hurry things along. If he discovers how clumsy and opinionated I am, he’ll be long gone.”

  “Ruth Caldwell,” Mrs. O’Sullivan shook her head. “God made you just as you are. For sure He wants to bring you around to perfection, but He knows your heart. He’s got a man in mind for you, and it’ll be a happy match.”

  “I’m afraid it’ll take a saint, not a mere man, to put up with me.”

  Mrs. O’Sullivan divided the dough and dumped it into greased loaf pans. “I’ll cover these and set them aside. While we’re busy with other things, they’ll rise up. Life’s that way, too. Oftentimes, when we’re busy doing one thing, God’s working out of our sight. Don’t doubt that He’s there and in charge, just because you can’t see the effects straightaway.”

  Setting the Sacramento Bee aside on the parlor table, Josh said, “Things got far worse than I expected. They say the Pony Express has lost sixteen men, seven stations, and one hundred fifty horses.”

  Laney looked up from her sewing. “That’s dreadful.”

  Josh nodded. Whenever they got a newspaper, he’d come to the parlor after supper and read every last article. Those that would be of interest to Laney, he’d often read aloud to her. After all, since she’d do needlework, her hands were full and no one would wonder why he was reading to her. Other articles he’d sum up in a few sentences for her benefit, then discuss them with Dad. That way, she wouldn’t be left out of the conversation—if the topic held any appeal to her.

  “Dreadful,” Laney repeated herself.

  “What are they going to do about it?” Ruth added, “Mrs. O’Sullivan said the riders haven’t come through in three days.”

  “They’ve temporarily suspended the service.”

  “Temporarily?” McCain rested his head against the back of the winged chair and settled in for a rousing conversation. “Bet you that it’s not so temporary. Can’t be. William Russell went off halfcocked when he cooked up the plan for that business. If I were Majors or Waddell, I’d have dissolved our partnership the minute I learned we’d only have sixty stinkin’ days to set up the whole system. It was done for before the very first run.”

  “Why did they have only sixty days?” Laney wondered.

  “Mr. Russell promised Senator Gwin he could have the business up and running by spring,” Ruth told her. “He was hoping that, by doing so, Russell, Majors, and Waddell would get a government subsidy. From what I understand, they had to scramble to put everything together in time for the first run.”

  Josh couldn’t believe his ears. Admittedly, the whole nation seemed swept up with the bold notion of the Pony Express, but few women bothered to keep track of the business details of such a venture. Ruth discussed the Russell, Majors, and Waddell partnership and their motives as a matter of course. She has to be the brightest woman I’ve ever met. Most women simper and stick to small talk. Ruth jumps straight in. It’s refreshing.

  “That Russell’s a wily man, if you ask me.” McCain absently rubbed his arm. His tone suggested approval.

  “Wily?” Josh chuckled. “Dad, you just said if you were in business with Russell, you would have broken the partnership. Why are you admiring him now?”

  “Man had a good reason for the time he chose. Spring and summer deliveries would be easiest. The riders could plan on fair weather and long days. He could rope unthinking investors into the Central Overland California and Pike’s Peak Express and bail out before the truth dawned on folks.”

  Josh knew his father was pausing because he wanted someone to prod him into revealing his opinion. He obliged. “What truth is that?”

  “Once winter came, even if the riders and stations hadn’t had trouble with the Indians, the weather would close ’em down.”

  “The weather might well slow them down,” Ruth said, “but since the Pony is adding relay stations every five to fifteen miles, don’t you think fresh horses will help the delivery go through?”

  “Not with the Indians stealing the ponies and killing the station keepers,” Dad replied. As always, his tone carried great certainty.

  “It’s a staggering blow,” Josh said as he settled in for a rousing debate. He enjoyed these sessions with his father. Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he said, “I’m not sure I agree that these attacks can be considered the end of the Pony Express.”

  “The whole plan’s nothing more than a folly, son. The romance of such an idea is sure to draw investors, and it’s bound to dupe enough people to make the originators a pretty penny. Men will look at the Pony’s grand success and clamor to invest before they consider all of the eventualities. It never fails to astonish me how imprudent and irrational people can be.”

  “The founders already own a highly successful freighting company,” Ruth pointed out. “Certainly they’ve already taken your points into consideration.”

  “It’s true freight still comes through in the winter. A single, light rider on a well-known path would have to be faster.” Josh shifted slightly in his chair. “Regardless of who may eventually own the company, I can’t imagine their giving up. Californians already rely on the Express.”

  “No reason we ought to,” Dad said. “The state can take care of itself. We grow and raise whatever we need—crops of every kind and herds enough to keep a man’s plate heaping forever and a day. We got shipping, too.”

  “We’re part of the Union, though. I’m sure you agree that communication is vitally important. Waiting for mail to be carried across the Isthmus of Panama is uncertain and takes too long.”

  “Shipping takes up to six months,” Laney said.

  Josh winked at her. She tried hard to participate the best she could, and he was always proud when she remembered something and added in a comment.

  “The Overland Stage takes a solid three weeks,” Ruth chimed in. “Supposing something crucially important happened, that’s still a huge lapse of time before the news comes through. The Pony is a significant improvement.”

  McCain gave Laney and Ruth a paternal smile. “But the assumption that anything there has a real impact on us is faulty. California is doing splendidly on her own. If communication is the issue, Josh, the telegraph is growing, and there are plans to expand it even further.”

  “But that’s just California. Again, I point out that we are part of the Union.”

  “Something we might well regret,” his father said in a ponderous tone.

  “You can’t mean that.” Ruth looked shocked.

  “I do.” He heaved a deep sigh. “If anything, I’d rather we not have much to do with the other coast.”

  “Daddy, we’re part of the United States,” Laney said. “I remember your cheering when California became a state. How can you want to ignore the nation now?”

  “Because the country’s flinging itself head on into war. It’ll be ugly, and no good can come of it.” McCain banged his right fist on the arm of his chair. “California doesn’t have anything to gain from the war, but we sure can lose a lot of men and money.”

  Josh winced. “With the Republican Convention nominating Abraham Lincoln as their presidential candidate last week in Chicago, I have to admit that the chance that we’ll see war is far greater. He’s been clear in his speeches regarding slavery. The South won’t abide by his opinions or leadership if he’s elected.”

  “Democrats are split.” Dad shook his head. “They can’t come up with a candid
ate to please both North and South.” He paused and said gravely, “It’s going to be a bitter election, and those feelings will carry over.”

  “What about John Bell of the Constitutional Union party?” Ruth wasn’t even pretending to be absorbed in her needlework. She’d told Josh that she had a brain and used it. It hadn’t been a false boast. But she also told me she has a mouth, and there are times I wish she’d muzzle it. Unaware of his thoughts, she went on, “From what I’ve read, John Bell wants to preserve the Union and keep the Constitution, both as they are.”

  Josh snorted. “He owns a bunch of slaves. It’s clear where he stands on the issues.”

  “The problem,” McCain said, “is that Bell’s idea might sound nice, but the Union and Constitution can’t both be kept as is. Times changed—for some people but not for others. The North changed to an industrial-based economy; the South is firmly agricultural. The economic differences between the North and South are so extreme, they’re already like two completely different countries.”

  “So you don’t think reasonable men can somehow work out a compromise?” Ruth leaned forward, intent on the answer.

  “No, they won’t,” Dad said. “This has been brewing for a while, and no one’s come up with anything satisfactory. It’s bound to boil over soon. As far as I’m concerned, Oregon and California ought to stay out of the fray and let them settle their own differences on the other side of the continent.”

  “Population density in the North will tilt the election.” Josh thought for a moment. “It might have taken the Republicans three ballots before they settled on Lincoln, but he’ll win unless the Democrats dig up someone who can make both North and South happy … and I don’t think there’s a man alive who can do that.”

  “There isn’t.” His father folded his arms across his chest. “Plain and simple, war’s coming.”

  “If there’s a war,” Laney’s voice shook, “you’d still stay home, wouldn’t you, Josh?”

  “Of course he would.” McCain looked from Laney to Josh. “Family comes first.”

  Josh cleared his throat. “I’d have to pray about it, Laney. I know I’m needed here—”

  “And here’s exactly where you’ll stay,” his father interrupted in a harsh tone. “You can’t leave a cripple to run the ranch. What kind of man would turn his back on his kin and roam off to fight for something that isn’t any of his business?”

  Dad rarely acknowledged his infirmity. In fact, he did all he could to be as independent and helpful as possible. Once, though Josh would never reveal it, he’d seen his father in front of a mirror, practicing gestures and movements to make his left arm look as normal as possible. That injury hurt more than Dad’s arm; it cut his pride.

  Josh stretched out his legs. His spurs jangled softly, and he took care not to hit Hilda’s just-polished wood floor with them. If he did, war of a different kind would start right away. “No use in borrowing tomorrow’s troubles. We’re doing well and none of us knows what lies ahead. I’ll pray for wisdom and pray for our nation.”

  Swiftly rising to his feet, Dad snapped, “Prayer doesn’t make any difference. If it did, your mother would still be alive. I put up with you and Laney and Ruth asking a blessing on the food because it’s a family tradition, but that’s all it is. Don’t waste my time or your breath talking to God about anything important. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care.” He strode from the room, then the front door slammed.

  “Oh, dear.” Laney drew in an unsteady breath, then turned to Ruth. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “Your father’s words weren’t a surprise,” Ruth said. “Mrs. O’Sullivan mentioned that he’s not walking with God. Why would he pretend otherwise, just because I’m here?”

  “Dad went to church, but he never showed or spoke of his beliefs. When Mom passed on, he turned his back on God.” The admission tore at Josh. “Laney and I keep him in our prayers, hoping he’ll finally come around.”

  Unconsciously knotting her stitching up in her fist, Ruth nodded. “When Mama grew so frail, I thought about bargaining with God—only I didn’t have anything to offer. Desperation does strange things to a person. Your father’s been good to me, and I know you love him. I’ll be praying for him, too.”

  “Thanks.” The strain on Ruth’s face made him ask, “Your mother … she was a believer, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.” A faint smile flickered across Ruth’s features. “Mama loved the Lord with all her heart.”

  “Isn’t it sweet to imagine our mamas together in heaven?” Laney asked.

  Ruth nodded, but her expression turned somber once again.

  Josh wondered if fresh grief was the only reason Ruth looked so strained. Of course it isn’t. As if her sorrow isn’t burden enough, I’ve been surly with her. She’s gotta feel like she’s walking on eggshells whenever I’m around.

  “If you’re finished with the paper, do you mind if I take it to my room?” Ruth tried to smooth out the wrinkles in the piecework she’d crumpled minutes before.

  “Sure. Feel free.” He cleared his throat. “You sound as if you’ve been doing some reading on the upcoming election.”

  “I have.”

  Laney perked up. “You’ll never guess what Ruth has, Josh!”

  “Oh?” He gave Ruth a questioning look.

  Ruth gave Laney a baffled glance, and Laney made a slash-like gesture from her shoulder to the opposite hip.

  She raised her chin a notch. “Oh, that. I have a red sash I wore when I participated in a suffragette march.”

  Josh sat and stared at her.

  “I can see I’ve shocked you.” She squared her shoulders. “Well, any worthwhile cause is bound to raise brows.”

  “Causes, worthwhile or not, elicit reactions.” He gave her a level stare.

  “Am I to infer you feel suffrage isn’t a worthwhile cause?”

  Josh waited a moment before responding. “Can’t say I ever gave it any consideration.”

  “Neither did I,” Laney said. “Even if I could, I don’t know whom I’d vote for. I’d end up asking Daddy and Josh what they thought.”

  Whoa. Josh steeled himself. One wrong word, and Laney would feel stupid. On the other hand, he could offend Ruth seven ways to Sunday if he came down on another side of the fence.

  Ruth turned to Laney and patted her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. The Bible tells us to seek wise counsel. Plenty of women out there don’t have brothers or fathers. They have to rely on newspapers, speeches, and those whom they respect. Either way, God gave women sound minds. After gathering information, why shouldn’t a woman also have a voice?”

  “I’m not agreeing or disagreeing.” Josh rubbed his chin. “My mother was a highly intelligent woman. Mrs. O’Sullivan’s sharp as they come, and Hilda—you couldn’t find a harder worker. They all deserve respect and could voice a sound opinion. When I stop to think of them, allowing women to vote makes sense. But don’t you think men are more affected by the government?”

  Ruth finally gave up on her stitchery. She shoved it off to the side. “Not in the least! Just think about it: When the government repealed the Missouri Compromise with the Kansas-Nebraska Act six years ago, it wasn’t just men who settled the land—they took their wives and daughters along. If a war does occur between the North and the South, men will be fighting it—but that means women will have to keep the homesteads going. Wives and mothers will lose their husbands and sons and have to carry on alone.”

  “Your points are well made, but the foundation is an emotional one. There are times in life when decisions are made because facts demand action, not feeling.”

  Ruth’s brows rose. “I wouldn’t disagree with that; what I question is your supposition that a woman would be an emotional voter and a man would be a logical one. Not a solitary woman attended the Democratic Convention, where several members walked out in a huff and made it so a candidate couldn’t be nominated.”

  “Did that really happen?” Laney�
�s eyes grew huge.

  “Yes,” Josh clipped. “Ruth, I told you, until you just brought it up, I hadn’t given any consideration to suffrage. Many other matters demand my attention.”

  “Well, Toledo’s seeing to the chicken coop, and I managed to hang the pictures, so the list of things waiting for your attention is shrinking.” She gave him a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary smile. “We’ll just have to add suffrage to your list.”

  “Fine.” He returned her smile. “It’ll be down there after my directing the hands, riding the fence, pulling late-spring calves, breaking horses, keeping an eye on the water level, and a few hundred other details.”

  “In no way did I mean to imply that you don’t work hard. It’s plain to see you do. If you think it’s easy for me to sit around and be useless in this partnership, you can guess again. I’ve asked you to assign me chores.”

  “We don’t need your help.” As soon as he stated that stark fact, Josh regretted it. Her eyes darkened with pain, and he quickly sought to soften his words. “What I’d ask you to do is help the O’Sullivans. Part of life out here is helping our neighbors, and they’ll be needing more of our assistance. You and Laney can go over to help Mrs. O’Sullivan with the house and her garden. I’d really appreciate that, and I’m sure she would, too.”

  “Laney and I already determined to do that.” Ruth rose and stuffed her sewing into a basket. Part of it popped out when she flipped down the lid, and the needle trailed by the thread. “If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll retire and read the newspaper. Laney, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Ruth. Sweet dreams.” Laney watched as Ruth left the parlor, then she turned to Josh. “How could you?”

  “What?”

  “You made her feel stupid and useless. For your information, I need her even if you don’t.”

  “I’m sure she’s good company for you, sis.”