Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (15 page)
W
e’re fixing it. Furthermore, we can hear you just fine, so you don’t have to roar at us,” Laney said as she continued to brace the door with one hand while prissily holding her skirts up with the other.
Ruth rivaled an apple for color. She didn’t say anything— probably because she held several nails between her teeth as if she were a giant, human pincushion. Halfway up the handle of the hammer, she held a stranglehold—which accounted, no doubt, for the fact that the nail she’d been driving barely pierced the door. It would have taken her all day to finish this simple task.
“The outhouse doesn’t need fixing.”
“That’s what you think! Why, the door fell on poor Ruth.”
Josh didn’t bother to ask just how Ruth managed to tear down a sound door. Some things defied explanation. After witnessing her ability to rile a mare, cover herself in paint, and trip on her hem, Josh knew for certain he’d been right: Ruth Caldwell was an accident going somewhere to happen.
Lord, I just don’t understand why you
sent her to my doorstep
.
“Here.” He pulled the hammer from her and stuck out his left hand. “Nails.”
One by one, she took them from her mouth, fastidiously wiped them on her sleeve, then laid them in his palm. With the last one, she declared, “We cut new hinges from a scrap of leather. The old ones must have rotted through.”
Josh stared at the leather piece she’d tacked up.
It can’t be
. He looked down at the other one she held out.
It is. Of all the leather
around here, why did they take the piece I was fixin’ to use for a wallet?
“I’m sure these will work,” Ruth’s smile didn’t disguise the embarrassment in her voice. “They’re sturdy.”
“Yes. Sturdy.” Josh couldn’t bellow at them; they’d tried their best to remedy the situation. Instead, he ordered, “Move, Ruth. I’ll get this taken care of.”
Josh thought about mentioning she’d have more driving force if she held the hammer properly, then dismissed that foolish notion. The last thing he wanted was for Ruth to take a mind to using his tools. Sure as God made little green apples, Ruth would maim or murder something or someone if he did.
Bam
. He sank the first nail with a single, well-placed blow.
Bam
. The second followed suit.
“Wow.” Ruth kept her gaze trained on his hand. “I thought I was supposed to hold the hammer in the middle so the handle would counterbalance the heavy metal thing on the end. You use your forearm as the counterbalance, and keep your wrist straight so it acts like a fulcrum.”
Counterbalances and fulcrums?
“Where did you learn about physics?”
Ruth shrugged. “I didn’t get to finish the book. When Miss Pettigrew found out I checked
Modern Physics
out of the library, she took it back and brought me something more suitable.” She cocked her head to the side. “Which reminds me—is there a library in town?”
“No,” Josh and Laney said in unison.
“Oh, that’s terrible!”
Josh tried to redirect the conversation. “What did Miss Pettigrew make you read?”
“Something about happy homemaking.” Ruth’s expression made it clear the book failed at making her happy. “She specifically wanted me to read all of the instructions for making suitable seating assignments for formal suppers with multiple distinguished guests, but it bored me to distraction.”
“Oh, I can help you with that.” Laney finally let go of her skirts and patted Ruth’s arm. “As long as you know the rules, you can manage just about anything.”
“See? I told you, you’re smart.” Ruth beamed at his sister. “I never did manage to get any of those details straight, and you know all about that stuff.”
Laney looked stunned, then an uncertain smile lit her face. “I do know all about that.”
Josh had watched Laney struggle through her primers. In their younger years, Mama spent hours drilling Laney so she could toe the mark at school and recite her spelling words and poems. Josh helped her as much as he could, but his poor little sister considered herself dumb as a fencepost.
Ruth—bless her awkward ways—just made Laney feel smart. Josh held up the next nail and drove it home. He’d gladly sacrifice his wallet leather and hang a new privy door every day of the week if this was the result.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ruth said as she sat down to the breakfast table.
“That’s enough to make my hair stand on end.” Josh scooted past Laney’s seat and took his own.
Ruth laughed at his temerity, then continued on as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “About the chickens. We don’t have very many. Maybe we ought to get more and expand the coop.”
“Did Hilda put you up to this?” McCain frowned at her.
“No.” Ruth put her napkin in her lap. “So Hilda agrees with me?”
“She’s always scrounging around for more eggs,” Josh said.
“So what’s the problem? Are they expensive?”
Mr. McCain gave Ruth a strange look. She didn’t know how to interpret it.
“They’re cheap as they come,” Josh answered.
Ruth giggled, and everyone looked at her. “Cheap?” She smiled at Josh. “I thought you were being clever with that pun.”
“I didn’t intend it, but I can see how that caught your funny bone. Anyway, it’s not a matter of money; it’s a matter of time. We’d have to add on to the coop, and other matters are more pressing.”
“I could build it!”
“You,” Josh said repressively, “don’t know how to hold a hammer.”
“You showed me. I could do it.”
“And I’d help,” Laney tacked on.
“Absolutely not!” Josh planted both elbows on the table, rested his chin on his clasped hands, and glowered. “I’ve never heard a more harebrained scheme in my life.”
“We could do it,” Ruth declared.
“Just thinking about it gives me indigestion,” Josh shot back. Even though he’d made that proclamation, he proceeded to pick up his fork and shovel in his eggs and hash browns with stunning speed.
“We men will get around to it sooner or later,” McCain said. “You gals shouldn’t trouble yourselves over those kinds of things. Didn’t I just buy a bunch of material for you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Laney took a bite of her eggs.
“I feel quite awkward about that, Mr. McCain. Truly, I need to repay you—”
“Nonsense, Ruth.” He crooked a brow. “The Broken P can certainly afford to grace her pretty ladies with elegant dresses.”
“Well, they’ve been stitching every afternoon,” Hilda said as she came through the kitchen door holding the coffeepot. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why dresses have to be so big, though. That silly stylebook of Laney’s has them using fourteen yards for one dress!”
“It’s fashionable,” Laney said. “You don’t want us to look dowdy.”
“Dowdy? I’d call that style ridiculously impractical,” Hilda accused. “It’s gotten to the point you can’t get through a doorway without pushing in on your hoops.”
“You look charming, honey. You go ahead and make your dresses as big around as your little heart desires.” Mr. McCain smiled at Laney. “I think you look pretty as a picture.”
“I wanted to have my new dress done by Sunday, but I’m nowhere near finishing it.” Laney let out a little sigh. “Galen said he wanted to see me in pink.”
“Knowing Galen, he’ll be too busy keeping track of his brothers in the churchyard to bother noticing what color you’re wearing.” Josh sopped up egg yolk with his biscuit. “Besides, if that dress really is half as full as Hilda says it is, you’ll take a month of Sundays before you finish hemming it.”
“If I start on one side, and you start on the other,” Ruth offered, “we could get it done.”
“But what about your dress?” Laney shook her head. “You need to finish it, too.”
“Don’t be such a goose,” Ruth teased. “No one here has seen my Sunday dress. They wouldn’t know if it’s first-time new or something I’ve worn for years.”
“I seriously doubt,” Josh said in a wry tone, “that you’ve kept any of your dresses for years.”
Ruth wrinkled her nose. “I’m afraid you’re right. I’m forever spoiling them by spilling something or tearing them. I even saved aside some fabric on this new dress to use for repairs—just in case.”
“That was very practical of you,” McCain praised.
Ruth smiled at him. “You’ve been so very kind. I can’t thank all of you enough. I know my being here was … problematic, but you’ve been so gracious.”
“Nothing’s been settled yet,” Josh said as he pushed away from the table.
“Well, I know God sent you here to be my friend.” Laney patted Ruth’s hand. “I haven’t been this happy since I came home from finishing school. I’ve been dreadfully lonely.”
“Regardless of what happens, Laney, we’ll still be friends. Josh, how are we to settle the matter?”
His father cleared his throat. “Has Mr. Maltby taken any steps?”
Josh folded his arms across his chest. “He told me he’d put it on the docket. It’s not considered an urgent matter, so we’ll have to bide our time.”
Ruth shifted in her chair, and it creaked slightly, giving away her discomfort. Josh’s eyes narrowed, and she shrugged guiltily. “Patience isn’t one of my virtues. Maybe what I ought to do is arrange for an attorney to look into expediting the matter.”
“Now, now.” McCain patted the table as if he were soothing a cranky baby. “No use rushing headlong into anything. You’re a young woman, and it’s not right for you to be on your lonesome.
Whether or not you receive any inheritance doesn’t matter—you still belong here, in this house with us. Since that’s not going to change, we can sit tight and wait until the circuit judge assigns a court date for the matter.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, but—” “The subject is closed.” Josh headed toward the door.
Laney giggled. “Ruth, let it go. My brother’s just glad I’m not driving him to distraction asking what color floss to use on my samplers, now that you’re here.”
Ruth leaned toward Laney and whispered, “If he gave me his opinion, I’d choose the exact opposite. For the past two days, he hasn’t even managed to match his shirt to his britches.”
“He never does,” Laney said.
“I heard both of you,” Josh said.
Ruth groaned and Laney laughed.
“Who cares what I wear?” Josh gave them a bland look. “I’m with horses and cattle all day, and not a one of them complains.”
“Men are hopeless,” Laney said. “Daddy’s no better.”
“Your father’s shirt and pants are both blue.”
“Only,” Laney said, “because I set that out for him last night. He’s going to town today, and I wanted him to look handsome.”
“It’s a bunch of nonsense if you ask me. The man’s clean and covered.” Hilda scowled. “All those silly fashion ideas are made up just to occupy the minds of city folk who have nothing better to do. Around here, we work for a livin’ and dress accordingly.”
“I do feel useless,” Ruth said. “I’m sure there’s something I could do.”
“You’re helping Laney with her new dress.” McCain wolfed down his last bite and rose. “Neither of you girls is meant to labor around here. You’re ladies, and your job is to bring warmth and joy to our home. So far, you’re doing admirably. There’s no need to change matters when they’re working so well.”
He left, and Ruth stared at her plate in confusion. By not doing anything, she’d done the right thing.
But there has to be more to
life than painting and sewing and socializing, Lord. It wasn’t enough for me at
school. I don’t think it’ll keep me happy for long here, either. What am I to do?
