Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (5 page)
Yards of deep green skirts with fancy swags and the tiniest lace edge of a petticoat peeping from beneath tattled that this was a genuine, high-class lady. Josh smiled—a pretty woman didn’t often arrive in town. He wouldn’t mind making her acquaintance.
Then Joshua got a sinking feeling. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard his name on the driver’s lips.
“Here she is. Bound for the Broken P, she said. Lucky thing you was in town today. Miss, this here is Joshua McCain, Junior. He’ll git you out to the ranch.”
“Thank you ever so much,” she murmured.
Joshua stared at her in disbelief and horror. Willowy, blond, and … oh no. Green-eyed. The moment she turned toward him, the eye color and description weren’t even necessary. This woman was the spitting image of her father. Of course her shape was a bit different and her features were finer, but there could be no mistaking the relationship.
A froth of sunny curls spun around her head in whorls too wild to be considered ringlets, and she had a streak of dirt along her right temple. Her wide eyes sparkled with intelligence as she turned toward him. Though she did face him, her gaze wandered, as if she needed to take in every little bit of the town. Her lips quivered— was she fighting laughter or tears? Judging from the fancy buttons, frills, and ribbons, someone had paid far too much for her traveling gown—especially since it looked as if she’d slept in it for half a year, then been dragged through a knothole backward.
She was, without a doubt, the most helpless-looking female he’d ever set eyes on … and the most beautiful.
She pinched the sides of her green gown with her gloved hands and dipped a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. McCain.”
“Miss Caldwell,” he said grimly as he pulled off his hat, “you weren’t supposed to come.”
S
he gave him a startled look and gasped. Her hand flew up toward her throat, and she blinked at him.
“I’ll set her trunks on the boardwalk,” the driver said as he deposited a bulging tapestry valise at her feet. “Hope you brought the buckboard. The lady didn’t travel light.”
“Trunks? She brought
trunks
?”
Miss Caldwell stretched to her full height and tried to look formidable. Seeing as she barely came up to his chin, the attempt failed. Her already-straight shoulders went back a tad more. “I could scarcely come ill-prepared.”
Joshua cast a disparaging look up at the huge steamer trunks strapped on the stage, then took another look at her. Yup, she looked antsy as a mustang after a saddle got tossed over his back for the first time. Odd, how a body could stand still, yet give the impression of being ready to jump into motion. Every line of her sang with tension. He owed her the truth, but breaking it to her wasn’t going to be an easy proposition.
She hiccupped. The action made her bob unexpectedly, and color flooded her pale cheeks. Her head dipped, and she hastily opened the reticule hanging from her wrist and whipped out a fan. She flicked it open and half-hid her face behind the ivory-and-silk frippery, but it failed to disguise the fact that she’d hiccupped again.
“Excuse me,” she murmured.
A shocking thought occurred to Joshua, and he leaned closer to try to catch a whiff. Though he didn’t detect any spirits on her, the sweet honeysuckle scent of her perfume might well be a disguise for her vice. After all, blood told—and everyone knew weakness for alcohol was inherited.
“D’ya need another drink?” the stage driver asked.
Another drink?
Joshua groaned. He’d dried out her father, and that had been an ordeal. He wasn’t about to tackle getting a woman off the bottle.
“Perhaps some lemonade or—
hic
—water,” she said in a whispery alto. Each wave of her fan sent her curls dancing.
He nodded, then looked at the driver. “Don’t remove her trunks yet.”
“Sorry. I’m behind schedule. Gotta move on out.”
Josh hoped to just leave her on the stage and send her back, but the destination slate in the stage office window let him know it was going the wrong direction. He scowled, then decided aloud, “Miss Caldwell, I’ll take you to Rick Maltby’s office. He’ll have a pitcher of water.” It was the closest place available where they could talk without having an audience. He cupped her elbow and steered her in the right direction. At least she walked with a steady gait. Folks were starting to gather around, and he needed to break the news that her pa had gone to the hereafter before she caught wind of cowboys jawing about it.
They crossed the street to the lawyer’s but found the office empty. Most likely Rick hiked off to the Copper Kettle for a bite to eat. Joshua hung his hat on a brass hook and pointed at the closest chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get you some water.”
He paced to a small oak table alongside one wall and sur- reptitiously rubbed a few specks of the ever-present dust from the rim before he picked up the pitcher. The water wasn’t necessary— the shock of his news would undoubtedly stop that crazy case of hiccups. He turned back around and repeated, “Have a seat.”
“If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather stand. I’ve spent the past three weeks sitting in the stage, and the change is welcome.” A hiccup jumped between every third or fourth word.
He shrugged. “No skin off my nose.” He poured carefully, tilting the pitcher so the sediment in the water wasn’t disturbed. The town well was running a bit low, and folks dealt with the grit. Somehow, though, he doubted a lavishly-dressed woman like Miss Caldwell had ever sipped anything but pure water from crystal goblets. Oh, well, she’d have to make do. He topped off the glass and headed back toward her.
He’d hoped the lawyer would be here. That not being the case, he’d stall for a moment. Rick would be here soon. Gossip would carry news to Maltby that a strange young woman was waiting in his office.
Clearly, his expectations were in vain. When Maltby didn’t hasten back, Joshua accepted he wasn’t going to get any help breaking the sorrowful news. He was just going to have to tough it out.
“Thank—” Miss Caldwell’s words halted and her hand froze midair as she reached to accept the glass. Her brows knit, and her gaze narrowed. “I recognize the wax seal on that envelope, Mr. McCain.” She locked eyes with him. “It’s my mother’s, and it’s open. What could you be thinking, reading my father’s mail?”
Joshua glanced down at the letter protruding from the pocket of his leather vest. It wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned to break the news. Joshua put the glass in her hand and curled her fingers around it very deliberately. “Miss Caldwell, I’d not intentionally read a letter sent to someone else.”
“Oh.” She gave him a smile. “Please forgive me for leaping to conclusions. My father must have given it to you when he sent you to fetch me.”
“Miss, your father didn’t send me.” He grimaced, then took out the envelope and turned it so she could see both sides. “Fact is, my family owns the Broken P. That was written as the address, so it was delivered to us. Alan Caldwell took ill two years ago.” He paused meaningfully, hoping that momentary silence would warn her of what he’d say next. “He didn’t pull through.” When she didn’t react, he figured maybe he’d been too roundabout with his technique. “I’m sorry, miss. Your pa’s not with us anymore.”
He fully expected her hiccups to cease and tears to begin. The hiccups got louder. The woman pressed herself against the wall, and with every jarring hiccup, her left elbow hit the shutters and made them rattle a clattering accompaniment. She tore her gaze away as pain streaked across her pretty features.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He sent Mama away.” She kept whacking herself as she fluttered the fan in agitation. Anguish darkened her eyes and tainted her whisper. “He’s just going through this ruse to get rid of me, isn’t he? You said so yourself—out by the stage, you said I wasn’t supposed to come.”
Joshua took the fan away before she beat herself black and blue with it. “Sip the water, Miss Caldwell.”
She looked down and tilted her head to the side. Another hiccup cut short her sigh of despair. In her shock, the poor woman had managed to tip her hand and spill the water down her skirts.
“It’s all right,” he soothed. He pried the glass from her, set it next to her fan on Maltby’s desk, and cupped her shoulders. The way the sweet little thing was shuddering beneath his hands let him know his words were starting to sink in. A strange wave of tenderness and protection washed over him. “Here. You’d better sit down for a spell.” It took no effort at all to pivot her slight frame and nudge her into the chair.
She fussed with the wet spot. “I’ll have to change before I go out to the ranch. I cannot meet him looking like this.”
Joshua slid his tanned hand beneath her soft, pale chin and tilted her face up to his. He’d never felt less capable in his life. Still, no one else was around, and it fell to him to see her through and get her back to her mama. Her dying mama. That made it all the more urgent. Surely this young woman couldn’t know the extent of her mother’s condition, else she wouldn’t have made this trip. In Alan’s memory and honor, he’d take on the responsibility of turning her around and sending her back.
“Miss Caldwell, that little dab of water doesn’t matter. What, with the heat like it is, that spot’ll dry up in a few minutes. But Alan’s gone… . I give you my word; he died. No father would ever deny or disown a daughter.”
“Yes, he would,” she said thickly. She shied away from his touch, so he eased back, then walked to the other side of the small office. A lengthy silence ensued, interrupted by a string of hic-her-heart-off-its-hinges hiccups. “He sent Mama away, and she was pretty and poised; now he doesn’t even want to meet me, and I know it’s my fault. Please don’t feel obligated to put up pretenses.”
Joshua stared at her. Clearly, she’d set her heart on finally meeting her father. Instead of accepting the truth, she was cooking up an explanation that might let her earn the right to meet him later … only there’d never be a later. Pity welled up. She’d said a mouthful. She thought if she were pretty and perfect and poised, she’d earn the right to be a daughter. No girl ought to ever think such a thing. Besides, she
was
pretty and appealing in her very own unique way.
His spurs jangled softly as he closed the distance between them. He lifted her gloved hands and squeezed them. “Miss Caldwell, do you believe the Lord loves you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have to be perfect for Him to care about you?”
“He’s everywhere. I guess He couldn’t run from me, even if He wanted to.” As soon as she’d spoken, she pulled a hand free and clapped it over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was a dreadful thing to say. I always say the wrong thing.”
Before he could formulate a response to her startling comments, the door opened and Maltby strode in. Joshua cleared his throat and said, “Rick Maltby, let me introduce you to Miss Ruth Caldwell. Miss Caldwell, this is Rick Maltby, attorney-at-law.”
To his credit, Rick didn’t act surprised in the least. He dipped an urbane bow and murmured, “Pleased to meet you.”
Ruth stood, curtsied, grabbed her fan, and sidled back toward the wall once again. “I’m sorry for taking your seat, sir.” She managed to jab herself with the fan as she pulled a hankie from her sleeve, then proceeded to hold both fripperies as if armed for war.
Rick dragged a pair of chairs into position across from his desk. “Why don’t you both sit here?”
She stared at him and shook her head.
“She isn’t convinced Alan’s dead,” Joshua informed him.
Ten minutes later, Ruth sat by Joshua’s side across from Rick’s desk. They’d tucked her between themselves, walked her over to the churchyard, and let her see the gravestone. Strangely enough, once she saw it, her hiccups ceased. Her head dipped and her shoulders curled forward. For a moment, Joshua feared she was fixing to swoon; but then she folded her hands together, let out a very unladylike sigh, and had a moment of silent prayer over the grave of the father she never knew.
Now Miss Caldwell clutched her gloves in her lap and stared at the edge of Rick’s desk. She’d turned her gloves the wrong way so all of the fingers stood up like a bouquet of rabbit ears. That fact touched Joshua—she tried so hard to behave like a decorous, refined lady, but deep down inside she couldn’t seem to keep the silly details straight. But maybe that wasn’t a fair assessment. After all, she was in shock.
“I wish I’d never come,” she whispered.
“No need to worry,” Josh soothed. “I’ll send you back to your mother.”
Miss Caldwell shook her head. The adamant motion set her curls flying every which way.
Again wondering if she’d not been aware of her mother’s tenuous condition, Josh strove to choose his words carefully. “The letter states your mother’s health is fragile.”
“Then you’ll want to depart immediately,” Rick surmised.
“I can’t.” Her grasp on those bunny ears of gloves became a stranglehold. “Sh-she’s passed on.”
“I see.” Rick mercifully spared her having to explain further.
Eyes shimmering with tears, Miss Caldwell turned to Josh. “I didn’t know exactly what was in the letter. I followed her instructions and mailed it. It was her dying wish—”