Josiah pulled Rena to a stop in front of Hobson’s Mercantile. That blasted stagecoach rattled all the smooth words from his mind that he’d planned to say to Corra. Words he’d hoped might make her consider staying on after Beatrice’s visit. In a more permanent capacity.
He reined in his irritation and lifted Corra from the wagon seat, catching the pleasant blush it brought to her face. He preferred that method of helping her down, and he would take every opportunity he got. In a fit of genteel manners, he offered his elbow and she took it. They crossed the boardwalk to the door, and she stopped and looked up at him.
“Would you mind picking up the few items I have on this list?” She pulled a slip of paper from her small bag and handed it to him. “I would so appreciate every moment I can spare to visit with Letty.”
And he would so appreciate spending the rest of his days with her beside him at the ranch. “No trouble at all.”
She touched his arm with that fiery hand of hers. “Thank you.” Then she left him standing there with his gullet full of words he couldn’t say and his heart stampeding through his chest.
Inside, Hobson greeted him as always and quickly filled the order before gathering the mail. “Got another letter for you from Missouri. I reckon you got kin there?”
Hobson raised his brows with the question, and Josiah stared him down. Wasn’t any of the man’s business who wrote to him or didn’t. And recognizing that tight, perfect handwriting didn’t exactly put him in a good humor. He shoved the letter in his vest, paid the bill, and loaded the wagon.
The sun angled across the road, leaving the wagon in the shade of Hobson’s store, so Josiah climbed up to wait and opened Beatrice’s letter. Her change in plans dropped his heart to his feet. Hands shaking, he folded the letter and stuffed it back in his vest. The woman’s news bore down on him like an early snowstorm, blinding him and leaving him cold and shivering with rage. He shouldn’t hate her. It was his Christian duty not to. But he’d not let her bust up his family. He balled his fists and prayed that Corra had instilled her ways into Jess enough to impress the old so-and-so. She’d certainly instilled her ways into him.
Corra left the boardinghouse and Letty feeling a bit homesick—for the Hanacker’s ranch. After sharing more details than allowed during their very public visits at church each Sunday, pride bloomed in her breast over Jessica and her family. Especially her father. By the time Corra kissed a tearful Letty good-bye and climbed into the wagon, she was overflowing with gratitude for what the Lord had allowed her to do. She would hold these few weeks as the most precious of her life and try not to long for more from Josiah than he could give. Fighting down the urge to link her arm in his as they made the edge of town, she looked up to see his dear face set like a stone.
Not one word did he say on the long ride back, and he kept the mare at a clipping pace. Corra bounced more than ever, but she’d not ask him to slow down. The man was driven with tension. It seeped through the cotton fabric of his shirtsleeve like heat from the cookstove.
At the ranch, the joyful welcome from Jessica and Joe and even Pop swelled her heart, but not a smile crossed Josiah’s cold features. She did her best to brighten conversation around the supper table that evening, but telltale glances from the children and Pop confirmed her fears. Something had gone horribly wrong. What had she done to upset him?
After clearing the supper dishes, Jessica sat close to Corra’s reading chair, clearly anticipating more from the story of Esther. Joe and Pop also waited expectantly, but Josiah went outside. Corra’s heart shrank with loss.
She cut her reading short, ending with, “And if I perish, I perish.” Closing her Bible, she took a chance. “Pop, would you mind saying an evening prayer for us, since Josiah is outdoors and… and…”
“Sure thing, Miss Corra.”
“Pa’s got his hackles up about something.” Joe uncrossed his long legs and stretched them out in front of him as he gave her a quick look. “Anything happen in town?”
Corra let out a deep sigh. “Not that I know of. Everything seemed just fine on the ride in, other than the passing stage I mentioned earlier. But after he picked me up at the boardinghouse, he didn’t say a word. And not a word all the way home.”
“Nor at the table, either.” Jessica pulled a braid over her shoulder and twirled the end in her fingers.
“That much more reason to pray.” Pop scooted to the edge of his rocker, folded his bent hands, and bowed his head. “Thank You, Lord, for this ranch and this family and this fine woman You sent to share with us from the Good Book. Jerk the slack out o’ Josiah or heal up the hole in his heart. Amen.”
Corra rolled her lips around an exclamation. In all her life she’d not heard such a pointed and heartfelt prayer.
Joe took out for the barn, Jessica and Pop went to their rooms, and Corra stayed seated, searching for what she should do. She didn’t want to make things worse, but patty-footing around the issue would be as bad as working with a broken fingernail. Better to take the situation in hand and dispense with it. She walked out to the porch.
Josiah sat in the rocker, arms on his knees, a letter in one hand. An oil lamp on the boards beside him cast a frightful shadow across his features when he looked up. Tamping down her dread, Corra knelt by the rocker.
“Bad news?” Honestly, had she no wit? Before she could improve her comment, he spoke in a tight, controlled voice.
“Beatrice will be here next week.”