Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “There’s a difference between ideals and practicality.”

  “Well, at this point, it’s just talk. Plenty of schemes fall by the wayside.” Josh stood.

  “Mark my words, son. It’s more than just talk. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something.”

  “Even if it pans out, there have to be a hundred different routes. There’s no reason to believe the Broken P lies directly in line with the path they choose.”

  “And if it is?” Dad pressed.

  “If it comes up, we’ll talk it over.”

  “Times come when a decision has to be made. If I’m present, I’ll agree.”

  Josh jerked his thumb toward the house. “Ruth might own half. If so, you can’t sign anything without her agreement.”

  “She complicates things.” Dad scowled.

  “Hey, Josh!” Felipe hollered from the pasture. “I think we’d best get Bayside into the stable.”

  “Yeah?” Dad stubbed out his cigar and walked alongside Josh. “That mare’s going to put off a fine foal.”

  “This birthing better go smoother than her last.” Josh grimaced. “She throws a good foal, but she throws a fit having it.”

  Felipe handed Josh a rope. “She won’t let me near her.”

  “I put her in the birthing stall two days ago when she started waxing. I wanted her used to her surroundings. Why’s she out?”

  Dad cleared his throat. “I let her out. She needed to have fresh grass.”

  Saying anything more with Felipe present would be a mistake, so Josh clamped his jaw shut, fashioned a rope halter, and approached the mare. It took considerable sweet talking, but she allowed him to draw near and lead her into the stall.

  The next morning, Josh stretched to ease his tired muscles. It had been a long night—but a worthwhile one. Bayside nosed and licked her pretty, wobbly-legged foal.

  “How’d the little one end up with a blaze and stockings?” Dad wondered aloud. “I thought Copper sired him.”

  “No, Barry did.” He reached over, picked up a stone-cold biscuit and popped it into his mouth.

  “You can’t be hungry still.” Dad slanted him a look. “Ruth brought out enough food for an army.”

  “She did.” Josh grinned. Never before had someone knocked on the barn door, but Ruth did just that two hours earlier. He’d grabbed the heavily-laden breakfast tray, then shut the door with a terse, “Thanks.”

  Dad jerked his chin toward the foal. “That gal was itching to come take a peek.”

  “She has atrocious timing.”

  “So I noticed,” Dad said wryly. “At least Laney knows better than to gallop out here.”

  “I’ll probably bring the girls out after supper tonight. For now, I’ll carry the tray back to the house and make the mash for our new mama.”

  “Go on ahead.” Dad leaned against a post. “I’ll stick around and enjoy the sight.”

  “Fine.” Josh toted the tray back toward the house. All around him, life teemed. Birds sang, cows lowed, and horses in the paddock frolicked. When Dad first showed him the ranch, Josh felt sure they’d never whip it into this shape. Mornings like this made every drop of sweat more than worth it. Well, almost. If Ruth’s claim prevailed, it would be a terrible blow.

  The kitchen door opened. The woman he’d been thinking about poked out her head. “Josh, have you seen your sister?”

  “No.” He shouldered past her and set the tray on the drain board.

  “I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find her.”

  “The door on the springhouse sometimes sticks. Could be she’s trapped.”

  Ruth shook her head. “I checked there. I even thought maybe she decided to go to the Fishers’ with Hilda.”

  “Probably did. Ada Fisher had her baby last week.” He checked to be sure the stove was still hot so he could heat the bran mash for the mare. “Laney’s been eager to pay them a visit.”

  “She couldn’t have gone there. The pretty little gowns we’ve stitched for the baby are still upstairs.”

  Lifting his palms in a who-knows gesture, Josh headed back out. “She’ll turn up. Laney’s a homebody.”

  “That’s why I’m worried!” The closing door muffled whatever else Ruth had to say.

  Josh hadn’t meant to be rude, but he’d be back in the kitchen in a few minutes. Most likely she would show up during his absence. He strode toward the far side of the stable.

  Originally, the building had been a combination bunkhouse/ barn. As the ranch grew, a new bunkhouse went up and the vacated side became a tack room, the feed storage area, and the place where they garaged the buckboard.

  Josh pushed the door wide open. The place tended to be dark. Stepping inside, he grabbed a tin bucket and headed toward the feed. Suddenly he dropped the pail. It rolled away, making racket as he rushed ahead. “Laney!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Laney! Sis?” Josh knelt beside her and slowly turned her onto her back, then pressed his fingers to the side of her neck. Rapid, thready pulses beneath his fingers told him she was alive, but she hadn’t roused one bit.

  “Sis?” He winced at the big lump on her temple. When he barely grazed it, her arms curled up and she turned her head away in reaction.

  At least she can move. That’s a good sign. Josh slid his arms beneath her and lifted. Pitching his voice to carry, but not to alarm, he called, “Dad.”

  McCain opened the door from the stable and tromped in. “Yeah?” He stopped in his tracks and rasped, “Laney!”

  “I’m taking her to the house. Go get Doc.” Josh rushed toward the house and bellowed, “Hildahhh! Get the door!”

  Ruth opened the door and gasped.

  Striding by, he ordered, “Get Hilda.”

  Ruth sprinted up the stairs alongside him. “Hilda’s still at the Fishers’. What happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me turn down her bed.” Ruth dashed ahead of him and yanked back the bedclothes. By the time he’d placed his sister on the mattress, Ruth turned back around from the washstand and placed a damp cloth over the bump on Laney’s head. “This’ll help with the swelling.”

  “How is she?” McCain rasped as he leaned over the footboard.

  “I don’t know. You need to go fetch Doc.”

  “I sent Felipe.” Dad’s hand shook as he reached over and jostled Laney’s leg. “Honey, wake up.”

  “You men need to step outside for a moment.” Ruth pulled Laney’s nightdress from the bureau. Once she realized he’d spotted the garment, she went beet red and shoved it behind herself. “Josh, your father’s whiter than the sheets. Take him downstairs and give him a strong cup of coffee with two spoons of sugar.”

  “I’m not going anywhere till she rouses.”

  “Neither am I,” Dad said. He rounded the end of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “Then make yourselves useful. Take off her shoes.” Ruth stuffed the gown into a wad at the head of the bed and loosened the buttons at the throat of Laney’s shirtwaist and the waist of her riding skirt.

  “Your clothes match,” Dad mumbled as his gaze went from Laney to Ruth and back.

  “Pretend you didn’t notice,” Ruth commanded. “Laney wanted to see your reaction.” She lifted the compress, turned it over, and put it back in place. “Josh, take one of her hankies and dip the edge in Hilda’s ammonia.”

  “Ammonia will burn her! The skin’s broken.”

  “It’s not to clean the wound; it’s to help bring her to consciousness. A good whiff works wonders.” As she spoke, Ruth started to gently locate and remove Laney’s hairpins.

  She acted as if she knew what she was doing, so Josh followed her instructions and hastened back with the handkerchief. He’d soaked half of the dinky, embroidered linen square, and it stank. “Here.”

  Ammonia dripped all over. Ruth hastily snatched the compress, cupped it around the hanky, and waved it beneath Laney’s nose.

  Her reaction was immediate.
Laney threw back her head and started to cough. Ruth showed no mercy whatsoever—she held the cloth under Laney’s nose again. “Laney, honey, wake up. Open your eyes.”

  Josh reached over and was about to snatch it from Ruth’s hand when Laney’s eyes fluttered open. Ruth set aside the ammonia and captured Laney’s hand as she reached up to touch her head.

  “Ohhh,” Laney moaned. “My head.”

  “She’s all right!” Dad’s voice held undiluted relief.

  “If you men will please leave us for a few moments?” Ruth’s firm tone left no doubt that the question was a politely worded command. “Josh, help yourself to some coffee, too.”

  “Bossy thing, isn’t she?” Dad grumbled as he and Josh went down to the kitchen.

  “She’s taking better care of Laney than we could.” Josh stared out the window, toward the stable. “I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

  Toledo rapped on the open back door. “Felipe’s fetching Doc. How’s the girl?”

  “Ruth revived her.”

  Toledo nodded. “Need anything?”

  “I was going to make the mare a warm bran mash.”

  “Consider it done.” Toledo sauntered off.

  Josh poured two cups of coffee, then watched as his father walked to the hutch, pulled out a bottle, and did something Josh had seen him do only once before: He drank whiskey straight from the bottle. Memories of his mother’s death washed over him. Josh cleared his throat and rasped, “Laney’s going to be okay, Dad.”

  “My baby girl.” Dad took another good swig. “I almost lost her.”

  Josh pried the bottle from his father and shoved the coffee into his hands. “No use making a big deal out of this. Laney probably tripped. She’ll be embarrassed if we fuss over her.” He corked the whiskey and put the bottle away.

  “Josh?”

  He headed to the stairs. Ruth stood on the landing. “Did you need anything?”

  “Could you please bring me a dark blanket and some clothespins?”

  “What for?”

  “Light bothers Laney. Her eyelet curtains don’t block the sun well enough.”

  A few scant minutes later, Josh finished clipping the blanket in place over the window. Ruth had changed Laney into her nightdress and loosely braided her hair. Once he’d completed his task, Ruth pulled him out of the room.

  “Ruth, thanks for helping Laney. I—”

  “Josh,” she interrupted, “something’s dreadfully wrong.”

  “Doc should be here soon.”

  “You already told me that.” Ruth shook her head. Tears filled her eyes and worry tainted her voice. “Josh, someone hit Laney.”

  “What!”

  “She has another bump on her head. I discovered it when I did her hair. It’s in the back, up high. If she had fallen, she wouldn’t have two.”

  “Did she say who did it?”

  “She told me something hit her. I thought she meant the bump on her temple. I’m sure she has a concussion. She’s too woozy to answer questions.”

  The front door opened. Josh glanced down, expecting the doctor. Instead, Hilda tromped in. She looked up at him and demanded, “What’s goin’ on? Felipe and Doc are ridin’ this way.”

  “Laney hit her head.” Josh shot Ruth a look. Under his breath, he said, “I want everyone to think it was an accident until I can go out and inspect the stable.” He raised his voice slightly. “She’s got a nasty headache. Maybe you could brew her some tea, Hilda.”

  “Willow bark and mint—that’s what she needs.” The housekeeper bustled to the kitchen.

  Ruth stared at him and gave him the slightest nod. She’d proven her reliability by keeping Laney’s illiteracy a secret. Josh could see by the resolve in her eyes that she’d help him protect his sister. “I’ll go sit with Laney,” she murmured.

  He hoped maybe Laney might tell him something, but when he followed Ruth back to his sister’s bedside, Laney let out a tiny whimper.

  “There, there,” Ruth said in the barest whisper. She took the damp compress off Laney’s brow, turned it over, and replaced it. “Rest. I’m right here.”

  Laney looked too miserable to pester. Doc came, examined Laney, and left a few packets of medicinal powders at the bedside before he departed. While Dad showed him out, Josh stood in the doorway of Laney’s room.

  Ruth had pulled up a chair and sat facing the headboard. Holding Laney’s hand, she soothed, “You go ahead and slumber awhile. I’ll sit here with you.”

  Odd, impulsive Ruth—she’d irritated him, vexed him, turned his world inside out; but Josh stood there and felt something give way. Her love for the Lord and her dedication to Laney were unmistakable. Over and over, she’d displayed a servant’s heart by offering to pitch in around the Broken P, in the hours she spent teaching Laney to read, and the days she went to the O’Sullivans’ to help out. Even her crazy notion to start a library was because she wanted to share books and her love of reading.

  Lord, when I asked you to send a companion for Laney, I didn’t count on someone like Ruth. She’s one of a kind, Father, but now I see how special she is. The only thing bigger than her wild plans is her heart—and what a heart she has. I’ve been sore over losing part of the ranch, when all along, you were showing me a woman whose value is far above earthly riches. Thank you, Lord, for bringing Ruth here.

  He let out a fake cough. When Ruth turned his way, Josh said, “I’m going to go check things out.”

  Ruth continued to hold Laney’s hand; but with her other hand, she patted herself then pointed toward Laney as she silently mouthed, “I’ll stay here.”

  He nodded and mouthed, “Thanks.”

  He’d thought to take Dad out with him to nose around the stable, but Dad was helping himself to another belt of whiskey. On rare occasions, Dad drank—but from the level of the amber liquid in the bottle, Josh knew Dad had been imbibing since Ruth called down to him. Hilda squawked and yanked the bottle from Dad. “Drink more of this, and you’ll have a worse headache than Laney.”

  “A concussion.” Dad sat down and gave Josh a pained look. “She has a concussion.”

  “Yeah, Dad, she does. But she woke up and knows who she is. She’ll recover.”

  Josh went out to the stable alone, for Dad wasn’t in any condition to help. The door still stood wide open. Dissatisfied with the dank interior, Josh lit a lantern and looked around. As he approached the spot where he’d discovered his sister, Toledo walked through the door that led to the mare.

  “Ate it all.” He turned the bucket upside down.

  “Good.”

  Toledo whistled under his breath. “Lotta blood on the floor there. Didn’t know it was serious.”

  “Concussion.”

  “Doesn’t add up.”

  Josh stared at the hand. “What doesn’t add up?”

  “Laney falling. Ruth, I’d believe—but not Laney.”

  Silence hung heavily in the air. Josh couldn’t be sure what to think. He decided to string Toledo along and watch what happened. “I don’t believe it, either.”

  Setting aside the pail, Toledo squinted at the area. “Find anything?”

  “Just got here. Laney was lying right there.”

  “You found her?”

  Josh nodded.

  “Feet over yonder or toward the door?”

  “The door.” Josh pictured the scene again in his mind.

  “Nothing there to trip on.” Toledo wandered to the area and hunkered down. “No sign of something being tied across to trip her.” He straightened up.

  “No one would anticipate her being in here, anyway.”

  “Yeah, they would.” Toledo jerked his thumb toward the chicken feed.

  The minute Josh looked at the bag stuffed in the corner, air hissed out of his lungs. A yard-long, narrow scrap of lumber lay there. As he and Toledo walked toward it, light from the lantern highlighted a few strands of reddish-brown hair clinging to the board.

  “Have a nice time in town?”
Galen lifted his mother down from the buckboard.

  “Aye, we did.” She smiled at him. “We fared right nicely, if I do say so, myself.”

  Colin hopped down and boasted, “Got six dollars for all of Ma’s vegetables!”

  “That’s better than ‘nice,’ Ma.” Galen smiled at her. “You outdid yourself.”

  “I’ve had extra help in the garden. Ruth and Laney made a difference.”

  “They haven’t been here for two weeks,” Colin refuted.

  “Ach! Son, ’tisn’t just the reaper who takes credit for the harvest.” Ma shook her finger at Colin. “The plowsman, the sower, the one who tends by weeding and watering—they all played a part in bringing bounty to bear.”

  “Sean and Dale would be glad to hear that.” Galen grinned. “After lunch, I sent them off to the garden to do some more weeding.”

  “I’m glad of it. The only thing growing faster than the weeds are those little brothers of yours. I just let out the hem in Dale’s trousers.” Ma’s warm tone made it clear she wasn’t complaining.

  “Did you hear any word in town about how Laney’s doing?”

  Colin burst out laughing and poked him in the ribs. “I thought you weren’t sweet on her.”

  “I’m not.” Galen leveled his brother with a harsh look. “It’s neighborly concern I’m showing, nothing more. I’d be asking the same thing if ’twere any other person who got hurt.”

  “We dropped by the Broken P to deliver their mail,” Ma said. She knew just when to cut in. “Hilda let me go upstairs to visit a few minutes. The bruise is nigh unto gone, and Laney claims her headache’s disappeared along with it. Ruth’s hovering o’er her.”

  Galen grinned. “Ruth’s probably ordering everyone around and minding Laney like a mama bear with a wee cub.”

  “Just so.” Ma laughed.

  “Da’s sleeping. He said to be sure to tell you the stew you left for lunch was the best you’ve e’er made.”

  “He always says that,” Colin said to Galen as Mama bustled into the house.