Love's First Bloom (19 page)

Ruth, however, was more horrified than overjoyed since Elias and Phanaby were also on board. En route for a twoday visit with friends who lived in Forked River, they had Lily tucked on the seat between them, a basket filled with breakfast, and Ruth’s prayers that they would survive traveling with their little companion without incident.

Ruth kept pace with the stagecoach, waving to her new family inside and trying not to panic before it finally pulled ahead. By the time she had decided she needed to tell the Garners about seeing Jake and Farrell together, the couple had announced their trip, insisting on taking Lily along. Noting their excitement, she decided to wait to tell them, fearing they’d delay their trip otherwise. She did not trust anyone more than the Garners to protect Lily, and she tried not to let her fears get the best of her, ruining the total freedom, endless peace, and absolute solitude she would enjoy for the next two days.

Her intent was to gather the bushel of gifts from the women in the congregation and carry them out to her garden, along with her own picnic breakfast. She’d also promised Phanaby she’d deliver a pail of food to Jake Spencer.

The air was still moist with the recent rain, rich with earthy scents she had never detected while living in the city. She hustled down Main Street and nodded politely to several passersby she had seen at Sunday services, as well as Mr. Toby, who was sitting outside the general store on the other side of the street, waiting for it to open.

When she spied several people talking together outside of Burkalow’s Tavern two squares ahead and realized two of those people were the Jones cousins, she left the walkway and started across the street to reach an alley that would take her to the bridge without being seen. Otherwise she would lose half her morning listening to the two cousins bantering back and forth without saying much at all.

She had no desire to meet up with Spinster Wyndam, either. Unfortunately, the inveterate matchmaker had been able to convince Phanaby while at the picnic that having Ruth to supper with Jake Spencer was a good idea. But she had every hope that Phanaby would support Ruth’s decision not to go once Ruth told her about Jake lying to her about not knowing Robert Farrell.

Ruth reached the alley without incident, but hesitated to continue because the alley was so muddy. Still, to preserve her time of solitude, she decided to navigate around the thick puddles of mud and lakes of rainwater. She was only partway down the alley, however, when she heard something following her.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw a young man she had never seen before, who was astride a scrawny, slowmoving mule. She was confident she could stay far enough ahead that neither the man nor his mule posed any threat to her—until she noticed the reins in the man’s hands were slack, his shoulders were sagging, and his eyes were closed.

In all truth, he looked like he had fallen asleep!

“He’s either crazy or he knows he can completely trust that aged mule—something I’m not prepared to do,” she grumbled. Tightening her shawl around her shoulders, she maneuvered around several large puddles as fast as she could but had to slow down to stretch her legs over the deep ruts in the roadway that surrounded rainwater that had yet to drain away.

She glanced over her shoulder again, noted the mule was much too close, and sighed with relief when she noticed a wide patch of dry ground just ahead, bordering the alleyway where she could get out of harm’s way. She managed to reach it yet realized too late that the lighter color she assumed to be dry ground was in reality a large, flat boulder.

The smooth surface was dry, but her slippers were just damp enough that she slid forward. She struggled and finally found good balance when a wave of cold water washed over her feet. “Ugh!” With her teeth clenched, she whirled about and nearly lost her footing in the process.

She glared at the gangly young man sitting on the mule directly in front of her, not caring a whit that her cry of distress had startled him awake.

Blushing, he tugged at the reins. “Whoa, Shortcake. Whoa, you dumb critter. I said whoa!”

The mule brayed a protest but eventually obeyed. As soon as the animal stopped, the man hopped off its back, dragging the filthy coarse blanket he had been using into the mud, and ran back a few steps to reach her. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Shortcake didn’t mean no harm,” he croaked, his voice slipping between childhood and manhood.

His face was as crimson as some of the roses that had decorated the meetinghouse on Sunday, and the blush spread to his ears as well. Dressed in coveralls that had more patches than cloth, he was extremely thin and looked as if he had not eaten a full meal for a good long while.

He snatched the hat off his head, unleashing a cowlick as thick as some of the cattails growing along the river’s edge, and twisted it nervously in one hand while holding the end of the reins in the other. “You hurt any?”

She clenched her teeth and took a quick peek over her shoulder to inspect her skirts before she offered him a scowl. “Other than having the hem of my skirts drenched with muddy water, along with my slippers? No, I’m not hurt, although it isn’t fair to put any blame on the mule. You’re the one who fell asleep, not … Shortcake,” she snapped, once she remembered the name of the mule.

When his eyes filled with unmanly tears that he swiped away with his shoulder, guilt nudged at her conscience, and she wished her reprimand had been less sharp. “I don’t suppose that it was entirely your fault,” she offered. “When I saw that you’d fallen asleep, I should have called out to wake you up, instead of ignoring the fact.”

“Ma’am?” he murmured, as if he could not believe he had heard her correctly.

She looked down at her skirts and shrugged. “I expected to launder my gown after working in my garden today, so I suppose that having my skirts dirty before I get started instead of afterward doesn’t really matter.”

His lips turned up to form a tentative smile. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. But didn’t … didn’t your feet get wet some, too?”

She shifted from one foot to the other. For propriety’s sake, she dared not lift her skirts to show him her slippers. “I have a pair of work boots I probably should have worn today in the first place,” she said. “I’ll just make a stop at home and change into them and set my slippers in the sun to dry out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be on my way. I have a good walk ahead of me. Just don’t fall asleep again, at least while you’re riding Shortcake.”

“Ma’am?”

She looked back at him. “Yes?”

“You’re a real kind lady, and you’re right. It weren’t Shortcake’s fault. It was mine,” he said quickly, his face reddening when his voice cracked again. “I’d surely like to make it up to you, if I could.”

She waved off his concern. “Thank you, but I’ll be—”

“You said you had to walk a ways. I could let you ride Shortcake. She’s old, but she’s steady, at least when she’s got a good rider on her back.”

Ruth’s eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t … I mean, I shouldn’t … I wouldn’t want to keep you from wherever it is you were going,” she gushed, unwilling to entertain even the notion of sitting on that mule when she had never been astride an animal a day in her life.

“My name’s Ned. Ned Clarke,” he said, extended his hand, but quickly withdrew it, which was probably best because it was so dirty. “I’m headin’ to Double Trouble. Capt. Grant told my pa that Mr. Ford down at the mill is hirin’ there, but I can still do that after I help you.”

“Did you say Capt. Grant?” Ruth blurted, surprised the sea captain knew enough about the area to be aware of any available jobs.

“Yes, ma’am. I did. The captain is a real nice man. My pa told me he helped Mr. Power find work a few months back, too. Capt. Grant even said when I get a little older I could have a job with him on the
Sheller
, but I can’t leave my pa here all by hisself.”

Ruth tucked away the hope that Capt. Grant might someday be as helpful to her and quickly introduced herself. “I thank you for your offer, but I’ve got quite a bit to carry out to my garden on the other side of the river, so it really wouldn’t do for me to ride—”

“Shortcake can carry your stuff for you! She’s good at that,” he argued, his eyes bright with hope.

Ruth narrowed her gaze. “Really?” she asked, tempted to think she might not have to lug that heavy bushel all the way out to her garden.

His head bobbed up and down. “She carts all the charcoal my pa makes out in the pinelands to the docks here in the village. That’s where we met the captain, but my pa’s been pretty sick for the past few months, which is why I’m tryin’ to find work.”

“Follow me,” she urged.

Two hours later, Ruth was sitting in Dr. Woodward’s office waiting for the doctor to finish tending to Ned’s badly sprained wrist. Shortcake was at the livery, where Mr. Ayers was providing the mule with feed, which Ned would eventually pay for out of the wages he would earn after starting to work there as soon as his wrist healed.

Most of the contents of Ruth’s bushel basket had survived the accident that had injured the boy, except for the new gardening gloves Phanaby had given her. The only living thing that escaped without any injury or loss was that stupid turkey hen! If it had not fluttered out of the bushes in front of Shortcake, frightening the poor mule half to death, Ned would not have been hurt and her bushel basket would not have landed upside down on the ground, nearly ruining her gifts.

She had very definite plans for that animal once she found it, and those plans included a big pot, lots of boiling water, and a tasty dinner for the Garners when they got home.

When she heard the grandfather clock in the other room announce the hour with eleven strikes, she tried to look on the bright side. The day was still young. The sun was still shining. She also had more than a day and a half left to enjoy to herself before she again faced her uncertain future—a future that had seemed a little more uncertain, considering Farrell was traveling today with the Garners and Lily.

Still, the morning had not been a total loss. After talking to Ned, she had a glimmer of hope now that Capt. Grant might prove to be sympathetic to her plight if she really needed his help.

Twenty

Time was running out.

Although Farrell had left on the morning stage, Jake knew the man would be back. The only question that remained unanswered was how soon that would be. He did not know what, if anything, the reporter would learn from the Garners while they traveled together to Forked River, but he knew the middle-aged couple well enough now to be certain they would continue to protect Ruth and Lily from the man who posed such a threat to them.

In point of fact, Jake was much more concerned about his relationship with Ruth. She had been cool, if not distant with him at the church picnic, and she had not returned to her garden since then, which made it abundantly clear that he had lost much-needed ground in his attempt to earn her confidence. With the Garners out of town, as well as Lily, he could ill-afford to waste this opportunity to regain Ruth’s trust.

Snorting his frustration, Jake climbed the ladder to the sleeping loft for the last time to see if Ruth was on her way here. When he caught sight of her clomping down the path just beyond the bend, his mind raced with one overwhelming thought: time for the drama to begin!

He slammed the window shutter closed, charged across the loft, and practically slid down the ladder, earning a huge splinter in the palm of his hand for his hastiness. As soon as his feet hit the dirt floor, he ran to the cabin door, unlatched it, and cracked it open before he lay down, flat on his back, at the bottom of the ladder. With his heart pounding, he shut his eyes and took several long, deep breaths to ease the band of anticipation that tightened around his chest. Mentally, he imagined Ruth slowly rounding the bend, her face flushed.

Soon he heard her footsteps approaching the cabin, and he wondered if that pesky turkey was standing guard, as usual.

“Mr. Spencer? Are you home? It’s me. Ruth Malloy. I’ve brought some food for you,” she said and uttered an exclamation of surprise when the door slowly creaked open from the pressure of her knock. “Mr. Spencer?”