Letter Perfect ( Book #1) (19 page)

“You probably needed only to cook it down more,” Mrs.

O’Sullivan suggested. “Still, purple and pink go well together.” She offered the girls a brilliant smile. Ruth had learned quickly that the older woman was rarely condemning.

“That sounds like something I would have done.” Ruth laughed, then shook her head. “Poor Josh. He’s so diligent, I can just see him worrying over the animals.”

“There’s a fact if e’er I heard one,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said. “’Tis the truth that Josh is diligent. Not just in his work, but in his walk with the Lord.”

“I don’t think I’ve done a single useful thing since I came here,” Ruth said.

“I can show you lasses how to make jelly. We can spend some days doing cooking.” Mrs. O’Sullivan set flour, salt, and a pitcher of water on her table. “You need to know how to do these things.”

“I’m able to cook a few things, but my baking is horrid.” Ruth finished scouring the skillet and rinsed it for Laney. “My cookies could chip teeth, and my bread—well, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. The few times I tried, the dough rose just fine outside the oven, and I punched it down, but once the loaf went into the oven, it shrank into a brick.”

“Mine too.” Laney blushed. “Josh calls them ‘runt loaves.”’

Ruth burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly. She didn’t want Laney to feel bad—but Mrs. O’Sullivan tilted back her head and let out a hearty laugh. Relief flooded Ruth. She’d been the subject of titters and unkind sniggers more often than she cared to admit; but this was simple, honest mirth. Laney laughed along— and that made it all right.

“Mercy me,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said after she caught her breath, “we can’t have you lasses making bricks and runt loaves. The Good Book says bread is the staff of life—you’ll end up widows soon as you’re brides if you serve your grooms that kind of food!”

“Maybe we ought to bake instead of sew today so I can learn all of that.” Laney’s voice softened. “Ruth’s not sure she ever wants to marry, but I’d like to marry soon.”

“Marriage is like bread.” Mrs. O’Sullivan walked over to a crock and pinched out a wad of starter to make her loaf. “You can have the right ingredients, but if you don’t work it right and give it time, it falls flat. Starter, it’s like the soul of the bread. You lasses need to be sure your men have hearts for the Almighty so as your days and family multiply, your spirit grows along with it. Starter has to be refreshed—if you don’t, nothing else you try will make the difference.”

Ruth and Laney watched as she went back to the table and put the starter into a huge, brown earthenware bowl. She tossed in several cups of flour and some water. “Man and woman blend together to become one, but something’s still missing.”

She added salt and stirred. “Love. If you rush to the altar, you can mistake infatuation for love.” She stirred more, then dumped the dough onto the floured tabletop and started to knead it. “Life’ll push you around, punch you down. Without spiritual leavening, you can’t rise up again. Without love, life loses its flavor. Many couples have respect and honor, but I pity them for the lack of love.”

“If a bride loves the groom, won’t that season the marriage?” Laney watched as Mrs. O’Sullivan continued to knead the dough.

“It didn’t work for Leah in the Bible,” Ruth said.

“That’s right. It didn’t, and she was miserable. You lasses give God time to bring the right man to you. I’m not hurrying my bread into the oven. It has to have time to rest and grow. Same goes for love—you need time to court and go through some ups and downs.”

Ruth leaned against the pump. “That’s a lot of wisdom, but I’m afraid if I ever meet a man who captures my interest, I’ll want to hurry things along. If he discovers how clumsy and opinionated I am, he’ll be long gone.”

“Ruth Caldwell,” Mrs. O’Sullivan shook her head. “God made you just as you are. For sure He wants to bring you around to perfection, but He knows your heart. He’s got a man in mind for you, and it’ll be a happy match.”

“I’m afraid it’ll take a saint, not a mere man, to put up with me.”

Mrs. O’Sullivan divided the dough and dumped it into greased loaf pans. “I’ll cover these and set them aside. While we’re busy with other things, they’ll rise up. Life’s that way, too. Oftentimes, when we’re busy doing one thing, God’s working out of our sight. Don’t doubt that He’s there and in charge, just because you can’t see the effects straightaway.”

Setting the
Sacramento Bee
aside on the parlor table, Josh said, “Things got far worse than I expected. They say the Pony Express has lost sixteen men, seven stations, and one hundred fifty horses.”

Laney looked up from her sewing. “That’s dreadful.”

Josh nodded. Whenever they got a newspaper, he’d come to the parlor after supper and read every last article. Those that would be of interest to Laney, he’d often read aloud to her. After all, since she’d do needlework, her hands were full and no one would wonder why he was reading to her. Other articles he’d sum up in a few sentences for her benefit, then discuss them with Dad. That way, she wouldn’t be left out of the conversation—if the topic held any appeal to her.

“Dreadful,” Laney repeated herself.

“What are they going to do about it?” Ruth added, “Mrs. O’Sullivan said the riders haven’t come through in three days.”

“They’ve temporarily suspended the service.”

“Temporarily?” McCain rested his head against the back of the winged chair and settled in for a rousing conversation. “Bet you that it’s not so temporary. Can’t be. William Russell went off halfcocked when he cooked up the plan for that business. If I were Majors or Waddell, I’d have dissolved our partnership the minute I learned we’d only have sixty stinkin’ days to set up the whole system. It was done for before the very first run.”

“Why did they have only sixty days?” Laney wondered.

“Mr. Russell promised Senator Gwin he could have the business up and running by spring,” Ruth told her. “He was hoping that, by doing so, Russell, Majors, and Waddell would get a government subsidy. From what I understand, they had to scramble to put everything together in time for the first run.”

Josh couldn’t believe his ears. Admittedly, the whole nation seemed swept up with the bold notion of the Pony Express, but few women bothered to keep track of the business details of such a venture. Ruth discussed the Russell, Majors, and Waddell partnership and their motives as a matter of course.
She has to be the
brightest woman I’ve ever met. Most women simper and stick to small talk. Ruth
jumps straight in. It’s refreshing
.

“That Russell’s a wily man, if you ask me.” McCain absently rubbed his arm. His tone suggested approval.

“Wily?” Josh chuckled. “Dad, you just said if you were in business with Russell, you would have broken the partnership. Why are you admiring him now?”

“Man had a good reason for the time he chose. Spring and summer deliveries would be easiest. The riders could plan on fair weather and long days. He could rope unthinking investors into the Central Overland California and Pike’s Peak Express and bail out before the truth dawned on folks.”

Josh knew his father was pausing because he wanted someone to prod him into revealing his opinion. He obliged. “What truth is that?”

“Once winter came, even if the riders and stations hadn’t had trouble with the Indians, the weather would close ’em down.”

“The weather might well slow them down,” Ruth said, “but since the Pony is adding relay stations every five to fifteen miles, don’t you think fresh horses will help the delivery go through?”

“Not with the Indians stealing the ponies and killing the station keepers,” Dad replied. As always, his tone carried great certainty.

“It’s a staggering blow,” Josh said as he settled in for a rousing debate. He enjoyed these sessions with his father. Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he said, “I’m not sure I agree that these attacks can be considered the end of the Pony Express.”

“The whole plan’s nothing more than a folly, son. The romance of such an idea is sure to draw investors, and it’s bound to dupe enough people to make the originators a pretty penny. Men will look at the Pony’s grand success and clamor to invest before they consider all of the eventualities. It never fails to astonish me how imprudent and irrational people can be.”

“The founders already own a highly successful freighting company,” Ruth pointed out. “Certainly they’ve already taken your points into consideration.”

“It’s true freight still comes through in the winter. A single, light rider on a well-known path would have to be faster.” Josh shifted slightly in his chair. “Regardless of who may eventually own the company, I can’t imagine their giving up. Californians already rely on the Express.”

“No reason we ought to,” Dad said. “The state can take care of itself. We grow and raise whatever we need—crops of every kind and herds enough to keep a man’s plate heaping forever and a day. We got shipping, too.”

“We’re part of the Union, though. I’m sure you agree that communication is vitally important. Waiting for mail to be carried across the Isthmus of Panama is uncertain and takes too long.”

“Shipping takes up to six months,” Laney said.

Josh winked at her. She tried hard to participate the best she could, and he was always proud when she remembered something and added in a comment.

“The Overland Stage takes a solid three weeks,” Ruth chimed in. “Supposing something crucially important happened, that’s still a huge lapse of time before the news comes through. The Pony is a significant improvement.”

McCain gave Laney and Ruth a paternal smile. “But the assumption that anything there has a real impact on us is faulty. California is doing splendidly on her own. If communication is the issue, Josh, the telegraph is growing, and there are plans to expand it even further.”

“But that’s just California. Again, I point out that we are part of the Union.”

“Something we might well regret,” his father said in a ponderous tone.

“You can’t mean that.” Ruth looked shocked.

“I do.” He heaved a deep sigh. “If anything, I’d rather we not have much to do with the other coast.”

“Daddy, we’re part of the United States,” Laney said. “I remember your cheering when California became a state. How can you want to ignore the nation now?”

“Because the country’s flinging itself head on into war. It’ll be ugly, and no good can come of it.” McCain banged his right fist on the arm of his chair. “California doesn’t have anything to gain from the war, but we sure can lose a lot of men and money.”

Josh winced. “With the Republican Convention nominating Abraham Lincoln as their presidential candidate last week in Chicago, I have to admit that the chance that we’ll see war is far greater. He’s been clear in his speeches regarding slavery. The South won’t abide by his opinions or leadership if he’s elected.”

“Democrats are split.” Dad shook his head. “They can’t come up with a candidate to please both North and South.” He paused and said gravely, “It’s going to be a bitter election, and those feelings will carry over.”

“What about John Bell of the Constitutional Union party?” Ruth wasn’t even pretending to be absorbed in her needlework. She’d told Josh that she had a brain and used it. It hadn’t been a false boast.
But she also told me she has a mouth, and there are times I wish
she’d muzzle it
. Unaware of his thoughts, she went on, “From what I’ve read, John Bell wants to preserve the Union and keep the Constitution, both as they are.”

Josh snorted. “He owns a bunch of slaves. It’s clear where he stands on the issues.”

“The problem,” McCain said, “is that Bell’s idea might sound nice, but the Union and Constitution can’t both be kept as is. Times changed—for some people but not for others. The North changed to an industrial-based economy; the South is firmly agricultural. The economic differences between the North and South are so extreme, they’re already like two completely different countries.”

“So you don’t think reasonable men can somehow work out a compromise?” Ruth leaned forward, intent on the answer.

“No, they won’t,” Dad said. “This has been brewing for a while, and no one’s come up with anything satisfactory. It’s bound to boil over soon. As far as I’m concerned, Oregon and California ought to stay out of the fray and let them settle their own differences on the other side of the continent.”

“Population density in the North will tilt the election.” Josh thought for a moment. “It might have taken the Republicans three ballots before they settled on Lincoln, but he’ll win unless the Democrats dig up someone who can make both North and South happy … and I don’t think there’s a man alive who can do that.”

“There isn’t.” His father folded his arms across his chest. “Plain and simple, war’s coming.”

“If there’s a war,” Laney’s voice shook, “you’d still stay home, wouldn’t you, Josh?”

“Of course he would.” McCain looked from Laney to Josh. “Family comes first.”

Josh cleared his throat. “I’d have to pray about it, Laney. I know I’m needed here—”

“And here’s exactly where you’ll stay,” his father interrupted in a harsh tone. “You can’t leave a cripple to run the ranch. What kind of man would turn his back on his kin and roam off to fight for something that isn’t any of his business?”