Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Singed your ears to a crisp, did she?”

  Josh raised his brows and whistled.

  Galen chuckled. “The women need days like this to get together. Ma said neither of the lasses has ever canned a single thing and Laney’s only made jelly once.”

  “Don’t remind me of that disaster.” Josh grimaced. “I worried for a solid hour that the hogs had contracted a new disease. The purple splotches turned out to be from Laney trying to hide her failure by feeding it to the hogs. They didn’t eat the jelly; they wallowed in it!”

  “How did you ever figure it out?”

  “I went into the house to read up on hogs in the Animal Husbandry Guide. When Laney heard I was concerned, she confessed. She’s never been able to keep a secret from me.”

  “Josh, you mentioned a problem before worship yesterday. Are you wantin’ to talk it through now that we’re alone?”

  “How’s your dad?”

  “No better, no worse. But that’s not what we’re discussing. I’d be a mighty poor friend and an even worse brother in Christ if all I ever thought about was my own life. You’ve come up alongside me and are sharing the yoke to pull me through, Josh. ’Tis right and good that I do likewise for you. Are you still worried about Toledo watching Ruth?”

  “Either he’s getting better about sneaking around to do it, or he’s eased off.”

  Galen folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve been prayin’ for her safety.”

  “So have I.” Josh shook his head. “I’ve never known a woman to be so accident prone.” He didn’t inform Galen about how Ruth managed to trip over a tree root on her way to the stable that very morning. If he hadn’t been by her side, she would have fallen flat on her face.

  “Suppose you tell me what’s weighin’ so heavily on your heart.” Galen looked at him steadily.

  “Your dad is a good man.” Josh steeled himself, then let out a slow, long breath. “Mine isn’t. Galen, he’s keeping two sets of books on the ranch.”

  Galen’s features pulled tight. “That doesn’t bode well.”

  “He’s recording less than the true sum we receive for cattle and horses and more than we pay the hands and pay for goods. Lower recorded profit and higher expenses end up showing the ranch isn’t doing nearly as well as it truly is.”

  “You’re not one to make a snap judgment. I take it you’ve seen both sets and studied them carefully?”

  Josh nodded.

  “Do you have any notion as to why he’s doing it or where the funds are going?”

  “Not a one. But if it were above board, he wouldn’t resort to this. I’d gladly support investing if he were interested. If he wanted to set up a dowry for Laney, old-fashioned as it is, I’d be the first to want to establish an account in her name.” He gritted his teeth and blew out a long, slow breath. “No, it’s a betrayal. I can’t manufacture any honest reason for him to have done this.”

  “How long has it been going on? Since Ruth arrived?”

  “Much longer. Over two years. From the time he took over bookkeeping.”

  “The Broken P was run to the ground and nigh unto goin’ under the gavel. The first years of pulling a place back are inevitably lean. Any profit a-tall was laudable. I hope you’re not faulting yourself for not figuring it out sooner.”

  “I do hold myself partly to blame. The laborer is worthy of his hire. I stand by that biblical principle. The hands were to be earning three bucks more a month than they have.”

  “How were you to know? You trusted your father.”

  “I can’t anymore.” The wind shifted direction. Instead of smelling cattle, the sweet, fruity fragrance from Kelly’s garden drifted by. “I’m praying for wisdom. Part of me wants to confront my father the minute he gets back from Sacramento; the other cautions me to measure my steps.”

  “In asking the Lord for guidance, you can’t insist that He answers you at once.”

  “I’ve already determined that once this is resolved, I’m paying those men the back pay they deserve and make sure they receive fifteen a month.”

  “If that’s the case, then as long as you keep an eye on matters to be sure you and Laney aren’t cheated, you can bide your time. It’ll be hard for you not to let on that you know he’s been up to no good, but a bit of time might well let you determine where the missing funds have gone. I’m thinking you ought to have Rick Maltby out to the ranch so he can take a look at the books. The sheriff, too.”

  “Since the girls and Hilda are with your mom today, I could just ride into town with the books.”

  “There’s a grand idea. You need a few people knowin’ the truth. That way, if your father disposes of the book with the accurate figures in it, you’ll still have witnesses. Until then, you’re the only one who’s seen the proof.”

  Josh crammed his hands in his rear pockets. “Ruth’s seen them.”

  “Has she, now?”

  “She came into the parlor after I’d discovered the second ledger. They were both on the desk. I couldn’t lie to her, Galen. Then, too, I felt an obligation to tell Ruth because part of the ranch might well be hers.”

  “I saw Ruth at church Sunday and at my house this mornin’.”

  Galen’s brow furrowed. “To look at the lass, you’d ne’er guess the least little thing is amiss.”

  “She didn’t want Laney to find out. We decided to shield Laney as best we could.”

  “Your sister will ne’er grow up if you don’t allow her to.”

  “Recovering from the concussion is enough.” Josh lifted his chin. “Besides, Laney won’t be able to sit across from Dad without bursting into tears if she knows.”

  “I suppose she’ll end up knowing when matters have to be settled.” Leaning on the fencepost, Galen asked, “Tell me, how can I help you? You already have my prayers.”

  “I covet those prayers. If you and your mom don’t mind, I’d like the girls over here as much as possible.”

  “They’re always more than welcome.” Grinning widely, Galen added, “Dale and Sean are scared half out of their skins of Hilda. She took one look at the both of them and said she wanted a bucket apiece of beans from them straight away. Folks probably think the express rider came hours early from the dust cloud those brothers of mine made, speeding to the task.”

  “After tangling with Hilda this morning,” Josh shrugged, “I can’t say as I blame them.”

  “With the girls here, you might be able to get to the bottom of who hurt Laney.”

  “The women are my biggest concern. The matter of Dad embezzling is bad—but I’d gladly walk away penniless and have Ruth and Laney safe than own a dozen ranches and let either of them be harmed.”

  “Our farm should be safe enough. With so many of us around, no one’s bound to get near either one of them without being spotted. Ma and Hilda—they’d be more likely to wield a skillet or a rolling pin as to let someone touch a hair on their heads.”

  “I’m relying on that fact. While I’m in town, is there anything you need?”

  Galen thought a moment. “Not a thing. Not unless you bring lumber, nails, and five braw men to build on to the house to hold all the wax, jars, sugar, and such that Hilda hauled over this morn.”

  “If I’m right about Hilda and your mom, they’ll have every last jar full in a matter of days.”

  “’Tis a distinct possibility. The garden’s bountiful.”

  “I’ll pick up more jars. It’ll give me an excuse to be in town.”

  “God go with you.”

  “Thanks, Galen. I need Him to.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  You look like somethin’ the cat dragged in,” Hilda declared as she eyed Ruth’s damp hair and limp dress.

  Ruth shoved a plethora of curls from her damp forehead and climbed into the buckboard.. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  Laney sat in the bed of the buckboard and smoothed her rumpled pink dress. “This frock is never going to be the same.” Leaning toward the edge, she a
dded to Kelly O’Sullivan, “And I’m not sad one bit. I made a pink dress because your son is so bossy, but I look atrocious in it.”

  “I’ve never seen you look atrocious,” Galen said as he sauntered up. “Until now. Oh, you lasses are quite a sight!”

  “Galen!” his mother huffed.

  “He’s right.” Ruth couldn’t keep from smiling. “Laney and I will keep these as our work dresses. It won’t matter if they get stained or need patching. With your garden and orchard, we’ll have plenty to do to keep up with what God grows.”

  “’Tis good for you to help, but I don’t expect you to work each and every time you show up,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said.

  “Nonsense.” Laney folded her hands in her lap as if she were at a garden party. “It wasn’t work. It was fun. I’ve never put up tomatoes or beans before.”

  “Many hands make work light, you know.” Hilda took up the reins.

  “It was nice of you to come, Hilda. I enjoyed swappin’ recipes with you.” Mrs. O’Sullivan motioned to her boys. Sean and Dale scrambled up, one holding a flat of canned tomatoes and the other a flat of beans. “You’ll want to be havin’ these. More’ll come home once the jars cool enough to be touched.”

  “We’ve got plenty.” Hilda pursed her lips, then said, “But I’ve come up with a hankerin’ for cherries. Your trees putting out yet?”

  “We’ll be pickin’ them tomorrow,” Galen answered.

  “You got any spare clean canvas?”

  “I suppose we do,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said slowly. “Why?”

  “I’m bringin’ the girls back tomorrow and the next day, too. I’ve got lemons. We’ll use ’em along with the sugar. Cherry fruit leathers’d taste mighty fine in the winter. Them young boys’ll do good at keepin’ the birds from pecking at the canvas once we spread the fruit puree on it.”

  Colin turned to his mother. “Oh, you made raspberry leathers a few years back. Remember how good they tasted?”

  “It’s blackberry and raspberry season now. Just like it is cherries. They all come ripe the same time.” Hilda scooted from side to side to settle herself more comfortably on the buckboard bench. “Cherries tomorrow. If your boys find brambles, we can go aberryin’ the next day.”

  “I know where some are!” Sean shouted.

  “We’ll have to be sure to make pies and tarts to send home with you. You don’t want your boss mad at you for letting chores pass you by,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said.

  “The mister is outta town. Josh won’t care a lick if I sear a steak for his supper. Timing is right; might as well help one another out.”

  As they rode home, Hilda turned halfway around on the seat. “Your dresses are ruined. Don’t be expecting me to launder them just so you can go add berry stains to the mess.”

  “Of course we don’t.” Laney gave a dainty shrug. “It won’t matter a whit to me. I’m just sitting here, trying to figure out how to talk you into making raspberry syrup.”

  “All depends on how many raspberries get picked. Syrup’s nice for a short while, but it don’t store none too good. Blackberries, raspberries, cherries—tasty little things, but they gotta be dried up. They won’t gel, so can’t make jellies or preserves.”

  “Back home, Bernadette added grapes or quince to berries and made preserves,” Ruth remembered. “The taste was wonderful.”

  “Crabapples work, too.” Hilda sniffed. “But McCain won’t be happy if I spend grocery money on any of those fruits. They’re not in season.”

  “If they’re not in season,” Laney wondered, “how could you get any?”

  “South America has seasons upside down to ours,” Ruth explained. “Our winter is their summer. Our spring is their autumn. They ought to have crabapples and grapes aplenty now.”

  “Yeah, but I’d have to pay dearly for them.” Hilda turned around and didn’t say another word.

  Once they reached home, Hilda stopped the buckboard by the back of the house. A couple of the hands came over and helped the women down. Hilda told one, “Just unhitch the horses. We’ll be using the wagon for the next few days. No use draggin’ it in and out. You—haul those beans and tomatoes into the pantry for me. I’ve got supper to see to.”

  Josh came out of the house, took one look at his sister, and turned to Ruth. “That’s not my sister. Where did you leave Laney?”

  Ruth burst out laughing.

  “That bump on the head knocked some sense into her,” Hilda grumbled. “Finally made her see she’s not your daddy’s little china doll. Don’t you dare try to fancify her again, Joshua. I’ll double starch your Sunday shirts if you do.”

  “Well …” he drawled and paused. “Instead of everyone dressing for supper, why don’t we just eat in the kitchen?”

  “Oh, could we?” Laney grabbed Hilda’s hand. “Remember when you used to let Josh and me have supper with you when we were little?”

  “Long as you don’t mind my talkin’ business to Josh whilst we eat.”

  Half an hour later, they sat around the table. Josh reached over and took Ruth’s hand in his. She gave him a startled look. “When Mom was alive, we always joined hands at the table for prayer. Dad put an end to that practice when she passed on, but I’d like us to do it again.”

  His fingers and palm were callused and rough against hers, but it felt good. I could sit at the table all night and just let him hold my hand.He makes me feel warm and safe, like I belong here. Ruth smiled at him and took Hilda’s hand.

  “Almighty, bountiful Father, we thank you for all of the blessings in our lives. Most of all, we thank you for one another and the unity we feel as your children. Bless this meal, and bless Hilda’s dear hands that prepared it. Help us, Lord, to serve you in all we do. Amen.”

  They didn’t pass around the platter and bowls—Hilda had already served the supper on their plates. Hilda started cutting her steak and said, “I warned you that I’m talking business, so here goes—I need someone to go to town and get me a bunch of stuff.”

  “What do you need?” Josh asked.

  “More jars—eighteen flats oughta do. A dozen lemons and another ladle.”

  Ruth added, “Grapes, crabapples, and quince.” When the housekeeper’s jaw dropped, Ruth said, “It was rude of me to interrupt. I’m sorry. I just wanted to remind you of what we talked over on the way home.”

  Hilda’s gape turned into a grin. “I appreciate your reminding me. Yes. I need all of those. And canvas. Fifteen—” She looked at how Ruth’s chin lifted. “No, twenty yards of cheap canvas.”

  “Whoa. I’m going to need to write this down.” Josh scooped a bite into his mouth, left the table, and returned with a pencil and sheet of paper.

  Ruth listened the whole time to the way his spurs sang as he walked.

  As he sat down, Josh said, “Now go over that again.”

  Laney recited everything back to him.

  Ruth gawked at her. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m a good listener.”

  “Always was,” Hilda said. “Your mama used to read poems and such to you, and you’d rattle it right back word for word. The very next day, you’d go off to school and have the teacher praising you ten ways to tomorrow for givin’ a beautiful recitation. Josh, your dad’s gonna throw a hissy fit over my wanting all this stuff, and I’m not done yet.”

  “I’ll deal with Dad.”

  Ruth didn’t dare look at Josh. He’d had an edge to his voice she hoped no one else picked up on. The past week or so he’d been acting different. It wasn’t just the discovery of his father’s perfidy. She couldn’t decide what had happened, but he was … different.

  “As long as your dad’s gone, I reckon I ought to go with the girls over to the O’Sullivans. Kelly’s bearing up well, but I suspect she’s not sleeping much at night. Her husband’s needing a lot of care. We’ll pitch in and do a lot of canning, make jelly, and some fruit leathers—”

  “Fruit leathers!” Josh perked up.

  Ruth laughed. “You’
re as bad as Galen’s little brothers. They got excited about them, too.”

  “Those boys are growin’ like weeds. Saw ’em yesterday at church. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear on a stack of Bibles the littlest grew an inch overnight.” Hilda propped her elbows on the table. “It’d be too hard on Cullen’s pride for us to buy his children clothes, but I figure he’d be a happy man if we got his missus a pretty store-bought dress.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” Ruth took a sip of milk. “You and she are about the same size. Whoever goes to town needs to know what to buy.”

  “Excellent point.” Josh bent over the list. “What do you recommend, Hilda?”

  “Nothing with a print. When she has to dye it black so she can wear it for mourning, if it’s got a print, the dye’ll look splotchy.”

  “How about another apron for her?”

  “Good idea, Ruth. Put that down, Josh.” Hilda slathered butter on a slice of bread. “Kelly and me—we’re of an age that we don’t trouble to cinch ourselves in tight. Tell whoever gets the dress to make it roomy around the middle.”

  Laney perked up. “A matching hair ribbon and hair pins.”

  “Other thing is, we’re gonna be over there at midday. I’m not about to eat them outta house and home.”

  Josh hitched a shoulder. “Why don’t you take over a roast? Whatever they don’t eat for supper can be used for sandwiches the next day.”

  “Now you’re talkin’, cowboy!” Hilda slapped the table.

  At the end of supper, Ruth looked at Laney. “You’re exhausted.”

  “After you tuck her in, would you meet me in the parlor?” Josh gazed at her intently. “I want to discuss something with you.”

  “I don’t need to be tucked in. I can take care of myself.” Laney rose. “You two go on ahead.”

  Ruth allowed Josh to escort her to the parlor. After seating her on the settee, he sat beside her—just as a man ought to do when he was courting. But he wasn’t. She tamped down the urge to giggle.

  Josh took her hand in his. “I want to ask something important of you.”