Letter Perfect ( Book #1) by Cathy Marie Hake Read Free Book Online Page A

“Just promise you’ll stay on the boardwalk. It won’t take me long to hire a rig, and I need to get back home.”
    “That’s a reasonable compromise.” She smiled. Mr. McCain could be reasonable, after all.
    Half an hour later, Ruth sat in the hired buggy and stared straight ahead. She couldn’t bear to sneak even a furtive peek at Joshua McCain. Somehow, she’d managed to tweak his temper twice now. She didn’t want to add to her list of offenses. Bad enough he was certain she’d cheated him out of part of the ranch; but as if that transgression weren’t sufficient to put her on his bad side for eternity, she’d stepped amiss once again.
    While Joshua went to rent a buggy, Ruth had walked the length of the boardwalk, then crossed the street and headed back toward her trunks. It was the logical thing to do. Joshua McCain would find her and her belongings all ready to go. Halfway down the boardwalk to the stage station, a pleasant-looking woman stepped out of a shop and smiled at her. How was she to know the woman in that plush dress was … well …
    “Madam Velvet,” he muttered under his breath beside her, then shot her a scowl dark enough to wilt the heartiest daisy. He opened his mouth, then shut it. After a prolonged silence, he rasped, “Didn’t you ever read about Rahab or Jezebel in the Bible?”
    “Yes.”
    “That … ah … profession wasn’t limited to Bible times.” His right spur jingled as he scraped his boot side to side on the floorboard, and he studied her with his glittering eyes. The corners of his mouth tightened, then he rasped, “In case you didn’t know, not all women are ladies.”
    “I didn’t realize she was …” Ruth’s voice died out.
    Josh’s head wagged back and forth. The only thing darker than his black-as-sin hair was his mood. He muttered something unintelligible to himself again.
    “Women of easy virtue aren’t supposed to—” Ruth groaned.
    Heaving a sigh, Josh gripped the reins more tightly. His hands were huge, callused, and capable-looking. “Things are different out here. Back East, women of her ilk stay in the Bowery; here, they pretty much go where they please. The Nugget—that’s the local watering hole—has rooms upstairs for them to …” He cleared his throat. “Has rooms for them.”
    Awkward as the conversation had been, Ruth appreciated learning such details so she didn’t blunder again. Josh looked every bit as uncomfortable as she felt, and for some odd reason, that fact made her like him a little. Nervously drawing whorls on her skirts, Ruth half whispered, “She didn’t have paint on her face or nails. Aren’t they all—”
    “I wouldn’t know,” he snapped. “I don’t avail myself of their company.”
    “Gratified as I am to be assured of your morals, how am I to recognize such a woman if you cannot?”
    “Honey,” he drawled, “I didn’t say I can’t recognize them. I just don’t get close enough to study the particulars. No decent woman acknowledges Madame Velvet, let alone speaks to her. You were ready to have her to tea!”
    He shook his head once again. Ruth couldn’t be sure whether the action depicted utter disbelief or implied she’d proven herself to be impossibly dim-witted. He didn’t leave the subject to die an already uncomfortable death. Instead, he accused, “Leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re already wading into trouble.”
    Heat zoomed up her throat clear to her hairline. Ruth flipped open her fan and used it vigorously. She couldn’t look at him, let alone respond to his accusation. Other women were blessed with talents like conversing, arranging flowers, and conducting soirees. She’d been cursed with the “talent” of humiliating herself with illconsidered plans. Headmistress Pettigrew labeled it “a predilection for creating a scene.” Ruth had the sinking feeling that Joshua McCain and Headmistress Pettigrew were cut of the same cloth. He could shake his head just as