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

condemningly as she had.
    Her trunks jostled the vehicle. Josh glanced back to make sure they hadn’t lost one. He barely spoke a word the whole rest of the trip, but the sour look on his face let her know she was as welcome as a spider in a teapot.
    After an inhospitably silent ride to the Broken P, Ruth looked forward to getting away from Joshua, sponging away the grit, and having a decent cup of tea. As soon as she spied the clapboard house, misgivings assailed her. The fences, barn, and livestock all looked picture-perfect. On the other hand, though sturdily built, the house looked as if it were more for show than hospitality. The tattered plants bracketing the steps of the veranda warned that this place lacked any vitality or warmth.
    “I … I thought there was a housekeeper.”
    “There is.” Joshua said nothing more. He pulled the reins to stop the buggy, set the brake, and hopped down. To Ruth’s surprise, he came to her side and helped her down. The minute her feet hit the ground, he turned loose of her and bellowed, “Hilda! Hilll-dahhh!”
    “Hold your horses, cowboy,” a rusty voice shouted from inside, “I’m a-comin’ as fast as I can.”
    For a brief moment, Ruth wondered whether Hilda was his sister or the housekeeper. Whoever she was, Ruth already liked her—she bellowed loudly, so she couldn’t be too set on proprieties. At the moment, Ruth desperately longed for an ally. The front door shot open. A stout woman with both arms full of laundry barreled through. “Where’s the fire?” As soon as she spied Ruth, the laundry tumbled from her arms onto the porch. “Dear me, look at her, will you? Why, the gal looks like Alan Caldwell in a dress.”
    “She’s his daughter, Ruth Caldwell.” Josh’s voice sounded positively funereal.
    “Could be a niece or somethin’,” Hilda mused. Then she wagged her head from side to side. “Nope. He was an onliest child. Couldn’t have no nieces nor nephews. Well, take her on inside. I’ll get these dirty clothes into the boilin’ pot and be there soon as I can.”
    “Where’s Laney?”
    “The parlor. Diggin’ through music. Said she wants to play somethin’ different on the piano. I didn’t have the heart to tell her everything she plays sounds different than what it’s s’posed to.” Hilda scooped up the clothes and trundled off.
    Ruth remained motionless.
    “There’s a spare room at the end of the hall. I suppose you can have it for now.” Josh lugged a trunk onto his shoulder and grunted loudly. “Come on ahead, and get the door, will you?”
    Grabbing her tapestry valise, Ruth muttered under her breath, “Hasn’t he ever heard the word please ?”
    “Excuse me?”
    Ruth gave him a guilty look. “What?”
    “That’s what I asked.” He started up the porch steps. “You said something, but I couldn’t hear it.”
    “Here.” She scampered past him and opened the door.
    “Humph.” He stomped into the house, through a parlor, and up a flight of stairs.
    Uncertain whether to remain downstairs or to follow after him, Ruth balked about the propriety involved in being upstairs in a bedchamber with a man—even for a brief moment for such an innocent cause. She paused as Josh turned down a hallway and out of sight.
    “Who are you?” a voice asked from behind her.
    “Oh!” Spinning about, Ruth stared at a beautiful girl with cinnamon-colored hair. “You startled me. I’m—”
    “You’re related to Alan Caldwell!” the young woman crowed gleefully. “You look just like him.”
    In a dress, Ruth mentally filled in. Since she’d already heard the odd phrase twice, she couldn’t banish it from her mind. As she switched her valise to the other hand, Ruth smiled. “I’m Ruth Caldwell. Alan was my father.”
    “Father!” the girl gasped. She caught her breath and repeated shrilly, “Father!”
    Loud boots rang on the porch planks and the door burst open. “What?”
    “Father.” The girl blushed. “I’m sorry, I was