Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (23 page)
We have conferred some benefits, asked but little, and perhaps the
people will assist. Can anything be done in your city toward paying
expenses to furnish arms and provisions for the twenty-five men to go
through with me to Salt Lake to take and bring on the Express?
I will be responsible for the return of the arms, will have transportation
of my own, and can get men here. What is wanted is
$1,000 for the pay of the men, $500 for provisions, and twenty-five
Sharp’s rifles and as many dragoon pistols. I will guarantee to keep
the Pony alive a while longer
Galen whistled under his breath. Finney was asking for a lot. Then again, the stakes were high—the Pony Express hung in the balance. The United States Cavalry couldn’t be expected to escort the riders or camp out at all of the stations, so private individuals would have to venture out and make a show of force.
His father owned a shotgun, but they needed it for hunting. As for pistols—the O’Sullivans wouldn’t have one in the house. Da said they were for killing men, and he’d not have one on his hip or in his house. No, their family wouldn’t be donating a weapon.
But what about money? Grimacing, Galen knew they didn’t have any to spare—especially after having bought two horses. Colin was right on the mark, supposing whatever the Pony paid for them to run the relay needed to be held in reserve for medical expenses. Especially after Finney’s comment that he’d only keep the business open
a while longer,
every last cent counted.
The parson and Da both said God always provided. Well, right about now, this looked like a mighty big opportunity for Him to come through.
“Galen!”
He popped to his feet and hastened around the corner of the stable. “Yeah, Ma?”
“The lasses and I are headin’ toward the garden.”
He nodded and glanced toward the house meaningfully, then shot her a big smile.
Ma grinned back. “God blessed me the day you were born,” she called to him.
He chuckled. “Ma, you got it turned around. He blessed me when He planted me in this family.”
“Well, think of it however you may. Long as you’re talkin’ o’ plantin’, I might as well warn you, I’m getting a hankering for flowers about the porch. Next time you go to town, I’ll be wantin’ some flower seeds.”
He said nothing about the fact that Ma hadn’t cultivated her customary spring flower garden. She’d been too busy, and whatever had reseeded itself from last year was all that grew at the present.
Laney smoothed her skirts and asked, “Isn’t it a little late in the season to be planting summer flowers?”
“It’s never too late for beauty.” Ma curled her hands around the handles of the wheelbarrow.
Ruth let out a squawk and nudged her away. “It’s my turn!”
Galen shook his head. Ruth. She had a way of asserting herself that was downright entertaining. In fact, she was the only woman he’d ever met who matched Ma for sheer gumption and spirit.
Ruth had been a subtle ally in keeping Laney’s infatuation reined in, a delightful visitor for Da, and managed to keep Ma’s mind diverted onto pleasant things in the midst of the looming sorrow.
God provides… .
The phrase echoed in his mind.
Aye, God
provided when He sent Ruth Caldwell here
.
T
he smooth wooden handles felt good in her hands. Ruth gripped them and pushed the wheelbarrow along the path toward an enormous square of trees. The flour and sugar sacks in the bed didn’t begin to muffle the rattle of the hoes. All in all, it made for a merry racket.
If ever there was a day she wanted to be away from the Broken P, surely this was it. Tension crackled at the breakfast table, and Josh had started in on listing any number of ridiculous reasons why she shouldn’t establish a library. His father was equally opinionated.
They have no right to dictate what I do
. Difficult as it had been, Ruth tried to remain silent—but she’d hit her limit.
If Toledo hadn’t come to retrieve those meddlesome men and take them to
the barn, I would have told them it’s none of their affair how I spend the
inheritance I receive from Mama. Why, I even thought to name the library after
her. I still will, too. They’re not going to stop me
.
“Oh, now, will you look there.” Kelly O’Sullivan stooped and picked a poppy. Tucking it in her hair, she said, “Nothing raises a woman’s spirits like flowers. I didn’t manage to plant any this year, but God’s good to strew my path with them.”
“Ruth and I could ride to town tomorrow and get flower seeds,” Laney offered.
And I could buy some books. I do have eighty dollars to start with
.
Completely unaware Ruth was hatching that plot, Laney said longingly, “I’d love to plant flowers at home. Daddy found a pair of wild rose bushes he dug up and planted out back, but there’s nothing else. We have that big new house and it looks so stark. Don’t you think so, too, Ruth?”
“Uh, yes.” Ruth decided she’d better pay more attention to the conversation.
“In Sacramento, just before Mama passed on, she bought a beautiful camellia. They were the rage. I’d adore having one on either side of the steps leading to our front veranda.”
“Lester has a catalog from the New England Seed Company on his store counter. Despite their name, they happen to be located nearby. We could ask him to order a pair of potted camellias.” Ruth laughed. “I don’t know how to take them out of the pot and put them in the ground, but Mrs. O’Sullivan would tell us, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure and enough, I would. Flowers do have a way of perking up a place. It’s as if a rainbow touches the earth whenever you look at a patch of flowers.”
“I love the way you speak,” Ruth said. She smiled at Mrs. O’Sullivan. “Not just your accent, though it’s lilty and fun, but you choose wonderful words.”
“I agree,” Laney said. “‘A rainbow touches the earth’ is such a picturesque way to describe it.”
“Now aren’t the both of you kind as can be?”
Ruth let out a relieved sigh. “I’m so glad you took what I said in the right way. I truly intended it as a compliment, but back at school, I’m sure someone would have misconstrued my meaning.”
“I’m a firm believer in plain talking.” Mrs. O’Sullivan reached around and retied her apron strings as she spoke. “Folks who have to shade their meanings or look for the same in others vex me. Speaking from the heart and taking things at face value makes it easy to get along.”
“It’s just that I don’t think before I open my mouth. I’m sure I wouldn’t have hurt feelings if I’d thought before I spoke.”
“Ruth, you’d never say something mean,” Laney said. “Anyone who doesn’t know that can’t see past the nose on their face.”
Mrs. O’Sullivan nodded. “You’ll find Westerners speak frankly. The bluntness cuts to the core of the matter, and folks appreciate you’re not wasting their time by beatin’ ’round the bush. Don’t e’er fear speakin’ amiss with me, lass. I’ll nab ye if I feel the need, but I’ve yet to see a need.”
The hoes rattled sharply as Ruth turned into the garden. “I’ll take it in the loving spirit in which it would be given.”
Mrs. O’Sullivan nodded. “A honest heart is a happy one. Oh, look. God’s been sproutin’ my garden whilst my back was turned.”
“You have a lot of cabbage and lettuce.” Ruth settled the wheelbarrow on the soft earth.
“More cabbage than lettuce,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said. “’Tis a more useful vegetable. It stores longer, and I can use it in several recipes.”
Laney wrinkled her nose. “Hilda loves sauerkraut.”
“Aye, you can make the cabbage into sauerkraut.”
Ruth winked at Laney and whispered, “Sauerkraut is dreadful. It makes me feel like a liar to bow my head and listen to grace when I’m not in the least bit thankful to eat it!”
“’Tisn’t my favorite dish, I confess, but I’m always grateful for it. Time was, back home, when the potatoes got blight. We had precious little to eat. I put up every last scrap I could from our garden and we prayed to the dear Lord to stretch it to last.”
Laney exclaimed, “Galen must have been just a little boy!”
“He was.” Mrs. O’Sullivan let out a sigh. “We had two other sons after him, but they were too frail. Cholera took them ere we came to America.”
“I’m so sorry!” Laney threw her arms around Mrs. O’Sullivan in an ardent embrace.
Looking at the woman in awe, Ruth couldn’t fathom her strength.
She’s buried two sons and will soon lose her husband, yet she faces
each day with joy. When I’m around others, I can set aside my grief, but when
I’m alone, it nearly chokes me. How does she keep her serenity and joy?
“I’m a blessed woman, I am. God let me keep my Galen and gave me three more sons to replace the two I sent back to Him.” Mrs. O’Sullivan patted Laney, then reached over and cupped Ruth’s cheek. “Your own grief is raw, Ruth Caldwell. Don’t be hard on yourself. Lean on God’s strength and mercy.”
“‘The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”’ Ruth murmured hesitantly.
“Ach, yes. That’s from the first chapter of Job. Now there was a man who lost everything. What did he do? He clung to his faith. When God grants us the love of a mate, a child, or a friend, ’tis a blessing. We have no right to tell Him how long to allow us the enjoyment of that blessing, so if He takes that loved one back to His bosom, we’re to thank Him for the time He granted us.”
Tears filled Ruth’s eyes. “But I miss Mama so much!”
“Of course you do.” Mrs. O’Sullivan enveloped her in an embrace and cupped Ruth’s head to her shoulder. “And you’ll weep, just as Our Savior did when He heard of His friend Lazarus’s passing. We weep for our own loss. There’s no shame in that.”
“But you’re s-so h-h-happy.”
“Time and grace soften the loss. For now with my Cullen, I’m cherishing every day we share. Once he hears the Lord’s voice and follows Him home, I’ll weep an ocean. In those days, you lasses will come comfort me with the certainty that my dear Cullen awaits me in paradise and will allow me the solace of talking about my sweet memories.”
“Of course we will,” Laney pledged.
Ruth squeezed Mrs. Sullivan but didn’t say a word.
You’ll have
those memories because you stayed by his side. I left Mama and went off to those
dumb schools when I should have been by her side, helping and loving her
.
“It’s a good thing we brought our hats. Sunny as it is today, we’d suffer terribly otherwise.” Laney retied her bonnet’s ribbons into a jaunty bow.
Taking her cue to set to work, Ruth turned loose of Mrs. O’Sullivan. “I know I’m supposed to cover up so I won’t get burned or baked by the sun. Lily white skin is fashionable, but I like the warmth of the sun on my face.”
“You’ll put on your hat, lass.” Mrs. O’Sullivan covered her own bright hair with a sunbonnet. “The only things ripening in my garden are the fruits and vegetables. The both o’ you are sweet as plums; I’ll not have you turnin’ into prunes!”
“I think plums are the one and only thing you don’t grow,” Laney said as she took up a hoe.
“Why is that?” Ruth wondered.
“You can’t have everything in the world. My Cullen, he planted me more’n I ever dreamed to own. The trick in life is to be satisfied with whate’er you have and whate’er your lot is.”
“Paul said that in the Bible, too.” Laney started to work.
“That, he did.” Mrs. O’Sullivan went to the next row over. “I reckon if he could be content in a prison cell, certain as can be, I can find happiness in my home and garden.”
Ruth picked up the last hoe and set to work.
By midday, they’d accomplished a great deal. Cabbage, lettuce, and carrots filled the flour sacks. The women stacked them in the wheelbarrow, and Laney declared, “It’s my turn to push now!”
Ruth held the hoes. “Okay. Then let’s go.”
Mrs. O’Sullivan set her hands on her hips. “But what am I to carry?”
“You can carry your head high, because you’re a daughter of the King,” Laney said.
“Listen to her. She’s right.” Ruth set out walking. “I wish I were more like you, Laney. You have a talent for saying something that’s fitting. I’d call it a silver tongue, but that makes you sound glib, and you’re not.”
“‘Words aptly spoken are like apples of gold,”’ Mrs. O’Sullivan quoted.
Laney shoved the wheelbarrow over a rut. “I don’t want a golden apple in my mouth, because I know whatever we’re going to have for lunch will be far tastier!”
“’Tis a humble meal we’ll be having—corned beef on this mornin’s leftover biscuits and coleslaw.” Mrs. O’Sullivan added a little jig between her steps. “Why, ye’d be thinkin’ I’m Irish or somethin’!”
“To look at me, you’d think I’m a dirt clod.” Ruth stared at her skirt. “We all worked in the garden, but the two of you are still nearly spotless. Once you dust off your hems and wash your hands, you’ll be fine. Anyone spying me would think I wallowed with the hogs!”
“Dirt washes,” Laney said.
Mrs. O’Sullivan shook her head. “Lass, that riding skirt you’ve been workin’ on is all done, save the button at the waist. You can change and stop fretting.”