Letter Perfect

by Cathy Marie Hake

“Is that to say I won’t?”

  “I said no such thing. Dad, Ruth may or may not be a partner to us when it comes to the Broken P, but that business is separate from her personal finances. We have no reason to interfere.”

  “She’s interfering! She gave Hilda money. Well, Hilda can just go to Ruth from now on to get her salary.”

  “I’ve agreed to let you handle the finances, Dad, even though I’m a grown man and part of this ranch is mine. I can still allow for that, but I won’t stand for your putting this on Ruth. Hilda cooks, cleans, and does laundry for you and me and Laney. We’re paying her. If Ruth wants to reward her with extra pay—that’s Ruth’s business.” Thoroughly disgusted, Josh said, “I have things to do,” and walked away.

  Having worn good clothes to town, Josh needed to change into his denim britches. Heading inside the house, he made an effort to shed his anger. I’m not putting Laney or Hilda in the middle of this. It’s bad enough that Ruth is wound up in the whole mess.

  “Ohhh,” he heard Laney say as he made it to the top of the landing. “Can you believe how wicked he is?”

  “Keep reading!” Ruth urged.

  “It’s dreadful. He’s putting rat poison in Arabella’s food!”

  “Laney, read! You can’t leave me wondering what happens to the poor girl!”

  Josh grinned. Dear Ruth—her enthusiasm was contagious. He stood and eavesdropped as Laney continued to read.

  “‘Every day, William put more poison in her food. Soon Arabella had no ap-pet-ite. Appetite.”’

  “Poor Arabella,” Ruth said. “Keep reading!”

  “‘What little food Arabella ate rarely stayed down.”’

  This story is rather gruesome. Josh leaned against the wall and pictured Ruth and Laney side by side, poring over the pages of that silly dime novel. Ladies never discussed such distasteful realities. Reading such words no doubt shocked them, but his sister cleared her throat and kept reading.

  “‘Or it went through her far too fast.”’ Laney gasped. “Oh my.”

  Josh’s brows rose. He hadn’t expected a dime novel to be quite so descriptive. He’d considered the attorney to be a good man, but if this book he’d given the girls grew any more raw, Josh would walk in and take it away.

  “Here. It’s your page,” Laney said.

  Ruth’s voice took over. “‘Sores in her little bow-shaped mouth plagued Arabella.”’

  Josh’s heart began to pound as he suddenly recalled Alan Caldwell’s condition. Alan had suffered from a poor appetite, and what little he ate came back up or went through him far too fast. He’d developed sores in his mouth, too.

  Oblivious to his eavesdropping, Ruth read, “‘The beautiful porcelain complexion she once delighted in turned sallow.”’

  Alan’s skin went a sickly shade of yellow. Doc called it jaundice. Thoughts flew through Josh’s mind. There must be several maladies that hold those complaints in common.

  “‘Arabella dwindled into near nothingness. She’d never been guilty of vanity, but even a mere glimpse in the mirror told her how pitiful she’d grown. Desolate, she ordered her maid to hang a towel over the mirror.”’

  Alan grew impossibly gaunt and weak.

  “‘William sprinkled the dull gray powder on her food and mixed it with glee. Wiping Arabella’s cold, damp brow, he urged, “Another bite, darling.” Scarcely could she obey.”’

  “What are you waiting for?” Laney half shrieked. “Hurry!”

  Alan was cold and clammy.

  Ruth’s voice continued, but Josh went into his room and changed. Alan could have turned yellow from all of his years of drinking. But why would that happen almost two years after he’d given up alcohol? And who would have wanted to harm him? They couldn’t have—not really. We all ate the same food. Anyone who’s been ailing for months on end becomes weak and thin. I’m like a spooked animal that jumps at every sound. It’s nothing.

  For the remainder of the day, Josh couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. After supper, he went out to the stable to check on the newest foal. Laney and Ruth joined him. “No feeding them treats,” he scolded Ruth. “If the mama wants anything, I’ll get her some oats.”

  Ruth’s beautiful eyes sparkled. “You may as well get those oats.”

  “Left to your own devices, you’d probably feed them half of the O’Sullivans’ vegetable patch.”

  Leaning toward him, Ruth said in a loud whisper, “Only the cabbage, so Hilda wouldn’t make you-know-what.”

  “That’s a good idea!” Laney brightened up. “Do horses eat cabbage?”

  “Absolutely not. If either of you comes anywhere near the horses with cabbage, you’ll be permanently banned from the stable.”

  “Oh, poor baby!” Ruth half skipped to the nearest stall. “Don’t let mean old Josh scare you. Josh, shame on you. This poor little pony ran and hid behind his mama when you got mad.”

  “She’s been skittish since the minute her hooves hit the ground. I’m afraid she’s going to be high-strung. Pretty little thing, though, isn’t she?”

  Laney slid up on his other side. “Oh, Josh! Those black splotches make her look as if she’s wearing spectacles.”

  “I hadn’t come up with a name yet. Spectacle. Sorta fits, don’t you think?”

  “I think Laney’s very clever,” Ruth said. She tugged on his sleeve. “And I think this mama needs oats.”

  “Okay. The two of you stay on this side of the stall. I’ll go get mama a treat.” Josh went through the connecting door. Dim as it was, he lit a lantern and set it on the table.

  The outside door opened. Toledo stuck his head in. “Oh, it’s you, Boss. I saw the light and hoped the villain returned to the scene of the crime.”

  “Nah. I’m grabbing a scoop of oats as a treat for Prance.” He took the grain scoop off the nail on the wall.

  “Forgot I used the last of ’em.” Toledo drew closer. “I’ll refill the bin.” He hoisted a new bag of oats into the bin, then yanked a knife from his belt sheath and sliced it open. “Been thinkin’.”

  Toledo slid the knife back into the sheath. “Laney and Ruth’s riding skirts match.”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe Ruth was supposed to be the victim.”

  The grain scoop stopped midair. Josh stared at Toledo.

  “Could be I’m wrong. Bears thinkin’ on, though.”

  “It does.” Josh measured out a scoop of oats and dumped them into a bucket. A strong nudge of his hip sent the bin back in place. It took two tries before he hooked the scoop back on the wall. When he went back to the other side of the stable, the girls were gone.

  “Ruth! Laney!” He struggled to keep the panic from his voice.

  Ruth popped up. “Over here, Josh. You won’t believe it. They’re so cute!”

  He wasn’t sure whether to whoop for joy that they were all right or growl at them for having moved and scared him out of his wits. “What’s so cute?”

  “The foal’s not the only baby, Josh,” Laney said softly. “The calico had a litter. She has six tiny little babies.”

  Josh strode over and hunkered down. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?”

  “She’s ruined your saddle blanket, Ruth.”

  Ruth laughed. “So what? It’s for a good cause. Just the joy of seeing a mama cat all safe and happy with her bitty kittens is more than worth it.”

  “Ruth loves baby animals,” Laney said. “Why, when the latch on the pigsty broke and Ruth fell in, she didn’t get the least bit upset with the sow for coming after her. I would have perished from fright, but Ruth tromped back in the house, calm as you please.”

  “Covered in slop,” Ruth tacked on.

  “I never heard a word about that.”

  Ruth folded her arms about her ribs. “I didn’t want to announce I’d made another mess. I couldn’t very well blame the sow for protecting her piglets. Laney and I nailed the latch back on the sty, so it’s all taken care of. Did you get the oat
s?”

  “Yeah. Soon as the mare gets them, I’ll walk you girls back to the house.”

  “There’s no need, Josh.”

  “I insist.”

  When they reached the house, he stopped Ruth. “I’d like a minute alone with you.”

  “As you wish.” She wandered over to the wicker porch furniture and took a seat.

  Josh sat across from her, leaned forward with his forearms on his knees, and said, “Ruth, we take excellent care of the animals here.”

  “I’m so glad you do. You’re most diligent.”

  “Then you can stop worrying.”

  Her face mirrored her confusion.

  Josh reached over and covered her hand with his. He fought the urge to grin. She had a tiny dot of something red and sticky on the back of her hand—most likely from the cherry she dropped from her pie after supper. He’d seen it roll off the table, and she’d quickly looked about to see if anyone witnessed that faux pas. Very slowly, he winked, and she’d bitten her lower lip to keep from laughing. He hadn’t realized the cherry glanced off her when it fell.

  “I don’t understand, Josh.”

  “I do, though. Ruth, you love baby animals.”

  She nodded. Her curls sprang to life with the move.

  “You love the mother animals, too. You try to give them treats and make them happy and comfortable.”

  “They deserve it.”

  “Honey, you did the same thing for your mother, didn’t you? Babied her, coaxed her to eat by giving her little treats, and—aww, Ruthie.”

  She pulled her hand away and searched in vain for a hanky. Josh pulled out his bandana and gently wiped her tears. “It’s okay to miss her. It’s okay to cry, too. Just know this, Ruthie: I’ve seen how sweet you’ve been to my sister, and she was a stranger. I’m positive you lavished your mother with loving attention.”

  “I was such a disappointment,” Ruth whispered tearfully.

  “You couldn’t ever be a disappointment.”

  Ruth closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “Mama was beautiful.” She practically twisted the bandana into a knot, and her shoulders jerked. “H-h-er hair was sleek and stayed in p-place.” Again, her shoulders jerked, but this time a strangled hic accompanied the motion. Ruth’s eyes opened. Tears glossed them, and her voice cracked with grief, “She handled every hic situation hic with poise. I wanted to be hic like her. But I couldn’t.”

  “Of course you couldn’t. God made you to be yourself. He counted the hairs on your head—”

  Hic “It would have been easier on Him hic if they were all straight!” She crushed the bandana to her mouth. “I always say the wrong thing.”

  “No, you don’t. You speak from the heart. I’d rather hear a harsh truth than a pretty lie any day.” He stared into her glossy eyes. Lord, help her to see herself as you and I do.

  Immediately a verse came to him, and he spoke it aloud. “‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.’ Ruth, there’s a whole symphony out there—but the players only care about themselves and making impressions on others. Your open-hearted honesty is precious to God. It’s precious to me as well. Never apologize for staying true to who God created you to be.”

  “I’m sure He has a good plan. Hic. But I keep messing it up!”

  “Philippians says, ‘He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”’

  “It’ll take me hic at least that long hic before I’m not a disaster.”

  “You don’t have to be perfect for God to love you.” He paused, then added softly, “I love you just as you are, too.”

  “I know I’ve been hic a big bother.”

  “You’ve been a bigger blessing.” He squeezed her hand. “Ruthie, do you get the hiccups when you’re especially nervous?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you can stop it, because there’s no reason for you to ever be nervous around me. Now I’m going to pray with you before you run off upstairs.”

  Hic. She groaned.

  He chuckled and bowed his head. “Dear Heavenly Father, I’m lifting Ruth up to you right now. You created her in your image and she holds a special place in your heart. Father, touch her heart and soften the ache of her grief. Grant Ruth the reassurance that her mother cherished her exactly as she was. Show her what your will is for her future and teach her to be more patient with herself. Lord, she’s been so patient with Laney. Hold up a mirror to her and let her be equally patient as you continue your work in her life. We praise you and thank you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Ruth lifted her head. Her hairpins slipped free, and her golden hair spilled down. Tears streaked her flushed face, but her lips bowed upward. She’d never looked more beautiful.

  “Thank you, Josh. No one has ever done that.”

  “Get used to it.” He smiled and rose. “Good night, Ruthie.”

  “Good night, Josh.”

  It wasn’t until the door banged shut behind her that Josh realized she’d stopped hiccupping.

  He sat in the parlor long after the girls went to bed. Toledo’s question kept nagging at him. What if Ruth wasn’t as clumsy as she seemed to be? Was it possible Laney’s assailant mistook her for Ruth? If that was the case, then Ruth’s mishaps might not be accidents. Someone could have planted that burr under her horse’s saddle. The outhouse door shouldn’t have fallen off the hinges. He’d personally reinforced the latch on the pigsty before the sow had her litter; someone had tampered with it.

  “Can’t sleep?” Dad asked as he came outside.

  “Hadn’t bothered to turn in yet. Suppose I ought to.”

  “Thought I’d sit out here and enjoy a cigar. Hilda is finishing up in the kitchen. I reckon just about the time I’m done with my smoke, I’ll end the evening with a wedge of cherry pie.”

  “You had two tarts this morning and pie after supper. I’ll have to send Hilda and the girls over to the O’Sullivans’ tomorrow in order to replace everything you’ve eaten.”

  “No need. With me here, Laney is safe as can be.”

  Laney might be, but I’m not sure Ruth is. “Kelly O’Sullivan is teaching the girls how to make a braided rag rug. Since Ruth needs one for her room—” “She can buy a carpet. A fine Turkish one.”

  “Dad, Ruth needs to be happy here, or she might take a mind to leave. She has her heart set on having that rug so it’ll match Laney’s. You know how they’ve started doing things together and want to be alike—sewing those matching riding skirts, for instance.”

  Is it my imagination, or did Dad just go pale? Just before we went to help Bayside foal, he said Ruth was a complication. There were a couple of times he went into the other side of the stable. He could have been the one who hit Laney.The way he was so shaken and drank all that whiskey could point toward his feeling guilty.

  Rolling the cigar between his hands, Dad said, “I don’t want my women working.”

  Exasperated by his father’s possessive manner, Josh said, “Dad, everyone knows the girls don’t have to work; they’re choosing to be productive instead of idle. Folks will consider that virtuous.”

  “I’ll think on it.”

  “Good night.” Josh went to his room. After reading the Bible, he prayed safety for Ruth and wisdom on how to handle the tangled mess with his father. As he placed his Bible back on the shelf, Alan’s old cigarette case caught his eye.

  Alan enjoyed smoking—especially in the evening. And though Josh never smoked, Alan had bequeathed the case to him. Alan treasured the silver cigarette case, but Josh never knew why until Alan passed away. Inside the monogrammed case were etched, To Alan, all my love, Leticia. Alan never mentioned Leticia, but the letter from Ruth’s mother made all of the pieces fall into place. He’d sent her away, but he never stopped loving her.

  Josh opened the case. Half a dozen cigarettes rested inside, both ends twisted shut. The paper had yellowed, but the cig
arettes brought back memories of Alan sitting in a chair by the window, smoke rising above him as he stared out at the land and listened as Josh read to him from the Scriptures each night before they retired. The last week of his life, Alan suddenly collapsed and went comatose, but Josh still read to him in hopes that he’d find spiritual comfort.

  Josh touched one of the cigarettes. The paper crumbled, and finely chopped brown tobacco tumbled free. Mixed with it was another substance: a dull gray powder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Good morning, good morning.” McCain entered the dining room and bent to kiss Laney on the cheek. He always did so, and Ruth found it charming. He turned and pressed one on her own cheek, and she let out a gasp.

  Hilda set a bowl of scrambled eggs and a platter of ham on the table. “What got into you?”

  “I got up on the right side of the bed,” McCain announced as he sat down and put his napkin in his lap. “Obviously, you got up on the wrong side.”

  Hic. Ruth grabbed for her teacup. If I hurry up and drink, maybe— HIC!

  “Laney, it’s Ruth’s turn to ask the blessing.” Josh’s voice sounded too civilized. The gold shards in his eyes glittered. “Maybe you could take over.”

  Laney immediately obliged. As soon as the prayer ended, McCain turned to Ruth. “My arm is bothering me today. Could I trouble you to serve me?”

  “Here, Dad. Take my plate.” Josh hastily spooned a huge pile of scrambled eggs onto his own plate and exchanged it for his father’s.

  Ruth took another gulp of tea.

  “Josh tells me you admire Laney’s rag rug.”

  “Mrs. O’Sullivan is teaching us how to make one, Daddy.” Laney took a dab of eggs and passed them to Ruth.

  “That’s charming. Why don’t I ride over there today with you so you can show me what you’ve been doing?”

  Thump. The bowl of eggs landed on the table as Ruth let out another loud hiccup. She sprang to her feet. “Please excuse me.”

  “Ruth—” McCain half rose and reached for her.

  She evaded him and raced into the kitchen. As she made her exit, she could hear Josh saying, “Let her go.”

  Yes, let me go! Ruth practically collided with Hilda. Hilda promptly grabbed her by the arms and whisked her into the pantry.