“Oh, Papa.” She set down the towel and the cup and circled around to his side. He was a proud man, a strong man, but hardship wore on him. He fought so hard to provide for them, and had struggled for so long. Just when it looked as if life was going to get easier, the storm had hit. Without a crop, there had been no income, and they were back to desperation again.
How little of their meager savings remained? She placed a hand on his brawny shoulder. He was such a good man, and love for him filled her up. They did not have much, but they had what they needed. They had what mattered most.
“I got a letter from Rupert.” Her father rubbed his face, where worry dug deep lines. “He sent money.”
That explained the groceries. She hated seeing Pa like this. He’d always been invincible, always a fighter, even when he’d been injured. Every memory she had of him was one of strength and determination. He’d always been a rock, the foundation of their family, who never wavered.
Not tonight. He looked heart-worn and hopeless. Like a man who was too weary to fight. The shadows crept visibly over him as the daylight dimmed. Sunset came early this time of year, and she needed to light a candle, to save on precious kerosene, but she could not leave her father’s side, not when he bowed his head, looking beaten.
Was their situation far worse than he’d told her? She bit her bottom lip, knotted up with worry. Pa did have a habit of protecting her. If only she could have gotten the job. She winced at the dismal interview she’d had, the squeaky shoes, the rattling teacup, her lack of experience and polish. “I will scour the town tomorrow, Pa. There has to be something I can do. Sweep floors, do laundry at the hotel, muck stalls at Foster’s Dairy.”
She would beg if she had to. Her father and brother had been carrying too much burden for way too long. She ached for them, struggling so hard against odds that turned out to be impossible. The dream of owning their own land and being farmers again was fading. At this point in Pa’s life, it would likely be gone forever. She knelt before him and laid her hand on his. “I can be persuasive. I will talk someone into hiring me. Please don’t worry so much.”
“Oh, my Ruby.” Pa cupped her face with both of his big, callused hands, making her feel safe. “You are a good girl. I’m afraid the news in Roop’s letter wasn’t good.”
“He found you a job, and we have to leave after all.” She squeezed her eyes shut for just one brief moment to hide the stab of pain ripping through her. It was selfish to want to stay when it was a burden for her family, so she firmed her chin. “This will be better for you. A job. Think what this will mean.”
“No, honey, there isn’t a job. Roop lost his. The mill closed down. It’s gone out of business. He’s coming home without his last two paychecks. The company promised but in the end couldn’t pay him.” Pa looked far too old for his years as he squared his shoulders, fighting to find enough internal strength to keep going. “It’s a blow, but I don’t want you worrying, Ruby. You must stay in school.”
“I won’t do it.” She brushed a kiss on her father’s stubbled cheek. “You know me. When I set my mind to something, nothing but God can stop me.”
“And even He would give pause before trying,” Pa quipped, the love in his eyes unmistakable. “We have to trust Him to see us through this. He’s watching over us.”
“I know, Pa.” She whirled away to light a candle or two, thankful for the bountiful summer garden she’d been able to grow. Selling extra vegetables to the stores in town had given her enough pocket money to make plenty of candles and soap to see them through the winter. It was a small thing to have contributed, but she’d been proud to do it. The warmth of her friends’ laughter lingered in the home, making it less bleak as she struck a match.
Encouraged, she watched the wick flare, and the light chased back the shadows. She shook out the match, shivering as the wind blew cold through the walls. Faith was like a candle dispelling the darkness, and she lit another, determined to believe they could make their upcoming mortgage payment, that they would not be homeless by Christmas.
Chapter Four
The snow whirled on a bitter night’s wind as Lorenzo guided his horse and sleigh down the drift-covered driveway. Lanterns mounted on the dashboard of the sleigh cast just enough light to see the dark yard and front step of the shanty. Poncho drew to a stop before the doorway. Ruby’s doorway.
Her adorable presence stayed with him like a melody, and a smile stretched the corners of his mouth as he climbed from beneath the robes. His boots crunched in the snow, icy flakes stung his face, but he kept going, untouched, seeing Ruby through a crack between the curtains.
She sat in a wooden chair, holding a crochet needle and thread up to a single candle’s light to make a slow, careful stitch. Her platinum hair gleamed golden-silver. Her heart-shaped face, flushed from the heat of the fire and caressed by the candlelight could have belonged to a princess in a fairy tale. Wholesome and good, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Captivated, he knocked snow off his hat as it continued to fall.
The muffled tap of footsteps tore his attention away from Ruby. Jon Ballard ambled into sight inside the house, reminding Lorenzo of his mission. He had a message for Ruby, one that would make her life easier. He took the few snowy steps to the front door and knocked. His pulse rattled against his rib cage. He was suddenly nervous, anxious with the anticipation of seeing her again.
The door swung open, and her father stood inside the threshold, surprise marking his lined face, proof of how hard the last few months had been for the family. “Young Mr. Davis, is that you again? What are you doing out on these roads this time of evening?”
“I’m on another errand. My father wanted to send one of the hired men, but I volunteered.” His gaze arrowed straight to her. Her crochet work had fallen to her lap. She stared at him with worry crinkling her forehead. Worry. He hated it. He squared his shoulders, glad he could fix that. He pulled the folded parchment from his pocket. “I have a letter for Ruby. From my mother.”
“For me?” She set aside her needle and thread, rose to her feet, and every movement she made was endearing—the pad of her stockinged feet on the floor, the rustle of her skirt, the twist of her bottom lip as she swept closer. The place she had opened within him opened more, widening his heart.
Vaguely, he was aware of Jon stepping back, disappearing from sight. Ruby remained at the center of his senses. Ruby, wringing her slender hands. Ruby, in a very old, calico work dress, the color faded from so many washings. The careful patches sewed with tiny, even stitches were too numerous to count. As she stepped into the puddle of nearby candlelight, her beauty and goodness outshone everything.
“It was nice of you to come so far in this cold.” Shy, she lowered her gaze from his. “Just to tell me I didn’t get the job.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because the interview was a disaster. The missing button, my wet shoes, I dripped all over the floor, I was completely wrong for the position.” Pink flushed her cheeks and her nose, making her twice as sweet. “I’m sorry you had to drive so far in this weather. Your mother could have posted the letter.”
“I suppose.” This was why he’d come so far in frigid temperatures. So he could see the happiness chase away the worry from her big, beautiful eyes. “Ma wants you to start working for her first thing Monday morning. Will that be a problem?”
“What?”
