“Charity, I don’t hold with paying my son to do essentials,” Ethan said quietly after the kids were in bed one evening. He shook his head. “Kids must learn to do things just because they need to be done.”
Charity’s eyes darkened. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I mean no harm.”
“You don’t need to apologize, gal. I just figured we’d best talk this over since Tad’s marble bag seems to have developed a notable bulge.”
“The only reason I have so many kaleidoscopes on my button string is because my teacher loved them and gave them to us as awards.” She dipped her head. “I treasured them, and I simply wanted Tad to have good memories about learning.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“He’s your son, Ethan. As a father, it’s your duty to step in when I’ve done something wrong.”
He stayed silent for a moment. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Charity. As a matter of fact, I recollect earning a few prizes for spelling bees and the like. I reckon it won’t hurt to have the boy develop a fondness for studying. I want him to learn and to help others because it is good and right—not so he can be rewarded.”
“Your goal is noble, Ethan. I know God loves cheerful givers—and the giving isn’t supposed to just be money in an offering plate. Tad sees how often you lend a hand to others. I hold no doubt he’ll grow up to emulate the servant’s heart you demonstrate. If you’ll excuse me, I need to fetch my shawl.”
She slipped away, and Ethan shook his head in disbelief. She thought he had a servant’s heart? Those first days, he’d worried she was too dainty, frail—even prissy—to tend to matters. She’d proven him wrong. Little Charity Davis pitched right in. Just yesterday he’d told Banner, “The word idle isn’t in Charity’s vocabulary.”
As a matter of fact, Charity’s attitude made their wagon a pleasant place. She was a cheerful riser and always saw to it that everyone had a good, hot breakfast to start off the day. She corrected the children with a fair balance of firmness and humor. No task was too dirty, too small, or too tough. She was never too tired to help with one more thing or to see if someone else could use a bit of assistance. Who would ever guess this fine lady would walk long, dry, dusty miles each day and collect buffalo chips to fuel her cook fire?
With her acceptance of the hardships, those around her realized they had no more call to complain than did she … yet she sat there, complimenting him simply for doing a man’s work to provide for his own and assure the wagon train kept moving.
Lord, what am I to do with this longing in my heart? Your Word teaches we set our affections. I’m doing my dead-level best not to set my heart on that gal, but I’m failing at it. We’re both believers, but other than that, we’d be unequally yoked. I’d never be the fancy kind of man she deserves, and I’d never be able to provide the kind of life she’s accustomed to. Give me strength, I pray….
Chapter 5
The sun beat down unmercifully, and Charity wished for nothing more than a sip of cool lemonade and a chance to soak her feet. She’d already walked nine miles today, and from the looks of it, they’d cover another five or six before Jason called a halt. Cricket didn’t want to ride in the bumpy wagon, but her legs were too tired for her to walk any longer. She lifted her arms high and pled, “Up.”
“All right, sweet pea.” All of the muscles in Charity’s shoulders and back protested this new load, and she finally admitted to herself she couldn’t manage this much longer. Just a few more days, she told herself, but how can I last in this terrible heat without water?
Patterson pushed them hard for the next three days. Now, as they used Sublette’s Cutoff, they had no source of water whatsoever. Banner convinced Charity to stop wearing all three petticoats.
She wore two.
Instead of having one wet cloth to comfort them through the day, Charity started making two. She even caved in and started leaving the uppermost button of her dresses and shirtwaists unfastened. Patterson was firm about everyone keeping on a hat or sunbonnet. The storekeeper at Fort Kearny had flavoring bottles, and she’d bought a few. She took to placing a dab of spearmint or vanilla on the stones they sucked on to keep their mouths moist.
Even with it as hot as it was, Tad seemed almost immune to the heat. Cricket seemed more affected, and Charity finally took to dressing her in just her frock and drawers, leaving off the slip entirely. When Myrtle confessed she was doing the same with little Emily, Charity let out a small sigh of relief. Minding children demanded making hundreds of tiny decisions on a daily basis.
At noon Cricket scooted into the wagon for a nap. Ethan silently saddled Charity’s mare. “Charity, the oxen are straining in the heat. We’ll reach water in two days, but you’ll never survive the heat if you don’t ride.”
“But Queenie must be feeling the heat,” she protested.
“Your mare’s a fine animal,” he said quietly. “But if it comes down to you or her, there’s no choice to be made.”
She blushed vividly. “Still, I cannot ride.”
“Why not?”
Charity stared at the horse. “We don’t have a lady’s saddle.”
He cupped his hands around her waist and squeezed in gentle reassurance. “Your gown’s full, Charity. You can ride quite modestly. It’s actually far more stable, and I’d not have you ride sidesaddle. Simply put, your safety is too important. Other women are riding western style, so you needn’t fret.”
Western style. He’d chosen his words carefully in order to avoid crassly mentioning she’d be astride. Before she could agree or disagree, he murmured, “Here you go, gal,” and lifted her into Queenie’s saddle. Silently, he tugged her hem down to cover her, handed her the reins, and walked off.
She carried Cricket in front of herself for the next day and a half. Small as she was, the little girl still radiated heat like an oven. The hours in the saddle caused pains to shoot through Charity’s lower limbs and back, but she knew it was the only way she’d manage to assure little Cricket and she would both survive until they reached water.
“Happy birthday, Charity!” Banner called over in the morning.
“Thank you! How did you know it was my birthday?”
Banner grinned. “Your ma mentioned you’d be having your birthday on the trail. I remembered because it’s my anniversary.”
“Felicitations, Banner! God surely blessed you with a fine man.” Charity lifted the lid on the Dutch oven to check on her biscuits. “I brought along a bit of cocoa. I could bake a cake for us to share at supper.”
“I thought you said you were just about out of eggs.”
Charity shrugged. “I am, but my recipe only uses one.” Folks stored eggs in the flour barrels to keep them from breaking. Several families had a few chickens in cages strapped to the sides of their wagons, but jostled around as they were, the hens didn’t lay well.
It took a bit of ingenuity, but Charity’s cake turned out fairly well. One corner got a bit crisp, but they’d all learned to eat singed food while on the trail. Food couldn’t be wasted. They gathered about the campfire that night, and Banner slipped something to Charity in a knotted hanky.
Charity gave her a questioning look.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
Charity carefully unknotted the cloth and found three buttons inside. “The pewter one, that’s from me. The other two, I swiped them from your mama’s chest. She had them tied together with that there pretty little bow, so I reckoned she planned on giving them to you today.”
Charity fingered them all. Her eyes filled with tears until she couldn’t even see the buttons clearly anymore. “Thank you, Banner. You don’t know how precious these are to me.”
“Let’s string them on now. You don’t know how much I’ve worried about losing them!”
Within minutes, Hyacinth, Myrtle, Abby, Gracie, and Leticia all gathered about. Soon, more of the ladies from the train joined the circle around Charity. Each gave Charity a button as a birthday gift. While Charity
visited, Banner carefully added each of the birthday buttons to the collection. The strand of thick thread was almost filled.
“Not many more, and you’ll have that string done,” Harriet decided. “We’ll all keep an eye out for that thousandth button. When you get it from your beau, we’ll all know your heart’s taken.”
After all of the women left, Charity banked the fire and turned toward the wagon. Ethan blocked her way. He pressed something into her hand. “I didn’t want you to go to sleep without this. Happy birthday.”
Charity turned so the moon would cast a beam on the button. Though just an inch across, the wood had been whittled into a bow with flowing ties. A tiny heart nestled in the center point. “Oh, Ethan, it’s exquisite! Did you do this yourself?”
“It’s nothing,” he said modestly.
“I disagree! You astound me. Why, it even matches the ribbon carved on my highboy and headboard! Thank you. Thank you so very much. You’re such a talented man. I’ll treasure this.”
“You can slip it on your string tomorrow. It’s been a long day. You’d best turn in.” He lifted her into the wagon and softly said, “Good night and pleasant dreams.”
The next morning, Charity added Ethan’s bow button to her string. Tad started playing with the opposite end and singsong counted along the strand. At one point, he frowned. “Miss Davis, I never noticed this wasn’t just one button. Look.”
She leaned over. “Yes. Those were from the Shay twins. See? One bell is silver; the other is gold.” Charity secured Ethan’s lovely bow to her string and tied the end.
“Can I ride in the wagon and look at your buttons this morning?”
“It’ll be bumpy.”
Tad hitched a shoulder. “I don’t care.”
A long while later, Tad jumped out of the wagon and ran to her. He grabbed her hand and paid no attention to the fact that several women and children were within earshot. “Miss Davis!”
“What is it?”
“Your button string. I counted it three times to be sure. You finished it. You don’t need any more … and the button Pa gave you is the thousandth!”
Chapter 6
Mr. Cole, I need a moment of your time.” Charity clutched the button in her hand. She cast a quick look at the others. They milled about within hearing distance instead of tending to their nooning chores, so she tacked on shakily, “In private.”
Never, in all of her years, had she felt so self-conscious or nervous. Not once in all of her lessons regarding etiquette and comportment had she been taught how to handle such an embarrassing catastrophe. Everything inside her quivered. She knew from the virulent heat of her cheeks that she had to be utterly, completely, unmistakable scarlet.
How could I have let this happen?
Ethan’s forehead furrowed, and he studied her for a moment. “If you can wait just a jiffy, I’ll see to the kids.”
“I–I’ve already asked Banner to keep them for nooning.”
His brow rose in surprise. “Very well, Miss Davis. What can I do for you?”
She hastily looked around and knew every eye was on her. On them. She pulled in a choppy breath and couldn’t seem to find her voice. Why can’t I just keep it? Why can’t he love me? I’d be a good wife to him. I already love his children, too. Too? Oh, mercy in heaven—I love him! What should I do?
“Perhaps you’d like to sit down,” Ethan said. His hand cupped her elbow.
He’s such a gentleman. So polite, so concerned. This is dreadful. He’ll probably do the honorable thing and ask me to marry him just to spare me the embarrassment.
“It’s not like you to be this rattled. Are you feeling poorly? You’re flushed.” He seated her on a rock and pressed the back of his fingers to her cheek. “Perhaps I should get Banner or Myrtle for you.”
“No!” The concern in his eyes shifted to surprise when she blurted out that one word. She heaved a very unladylike sigh and cast away every hope or dream she might have entertained about having a happy future. She wanted this man. No other. No other man could ever make her as happy. Then why am I going to let go of this opportunity? Because it’s honorable. I never knew being honorable could hurt so badly. Dear Jesus, give me strength.
Charity turned her hand over and very slowly uncurled her fingers. The lovely button lay cradled in her hand. She wet her lips and whispered, “I’ve inadvertently placed you in an untenable position. I’m so sorry, Mr. Cole.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I thought you liked it.” What could very well pass for hurt flickered in his eyes.
“Oh, I do!” Charity paused then said somberly, “But I cannot accept it. Banner—she was helping me pack. I didn’t realize … That is, I don’t mean to hold her to blame, because I alone am responsible….”
“Charity, what are you trying to tell me?”
“I lost count. She saved a few buttons off of Mama’s clothes the night we were packing, and when I slipped them on the string, I lost count.” Every word ached with the misery she felt as she whispered, “I take full responsibility, Mr. Cole. I wanted to give this back to you privately. Please understand, it was a lovely gift. I’ve never seen anything so wonderful, and no one ever troubled himself to make something by his own hands just for me; but I cannot keep it under these circumstances, and I hope you forgive me.”
“What are you saying, Charity?”
She carefully transferred the button from her hand to his. His hand was large, rough, and calloused. In his palm, the button looked minuscule. How had he managed to create anything so dainty? Charity stayed silent for a moment then realized he still didn’t comprehend what she was doing. “Mr. Cole, I was mistaken about how many buttons decorated my string. This,” she swallowed and whispered thickly, “would be the thousandth.”
“The thousandth.” He repeated the word in a husky tone.
She wanted to run away. She wanted to hide from all of the prying eyes turned their way. She wanted to burst into tears. Most of all, she wanted him to slip that marvelous button back into her hand and ask her to be his beloved wife.
Instead, she tried to give him a smile. From the reflection in his eyes, Charity knew she’d failed miserably. “Certainly, I have no expectations. Had I been more careful, you’d not be in this awkward position. If you’d like, I’ll be happy to sew it on the yoke of Cricket’s new frock.”
“I see.” He stared down at the dinky ribbon. He’d spent the last week making it. Twice he’d broken it and had to start afresh. Charity deserved something wonderful, but this was all he had to give. The whole time he’d carved it, he’d thought of the elegant, fancy, and expensive gifts she’d undoubtedly received all of her life. This cost nothing but spare time, yet she acted like she appreciated it. That was another mark of her fine manners. She could make a pauper feel like a prince. Nonetheless, he was a pauper. He had no right to hope this princess would ever set her heart on him.
She blinked back the tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid Tad counted them and wasn’t discreet in breaking the news to me. Though I know you might have wished otherwise, others already know. Truly, Mr. Cole, I never meant for this to happen. Please forgive me for my carelessness. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll be sure folks understand.”
The temptation to take advantage of the situation nearly overpowered him. It would be so easy to simply insist she wed him. She’d accepted the button and added it to her string. He’d have her for his wife, and he’d cherish her every last day of their marriage; but would she resent him for taking advantage of this mistake, and could he maintain his self-respect for trapping her when she’d agreed to the union only to avoid social embarrassment?
Ethan cleared his throat. The words stuck. He wanted to drop onto his knee right there and pledge his heart, but the last thing he needed to do was humiliate them both by making a public spectacle of this mess so she’d feel even more obligated. It took every shred of self-discipline for him to tamp down his own wants and needs and put hers first. Finally, he rubbed
his thumb across the loop of the bow. “What do you want to do about this, Charity?”
She pressed her fingers to her mouth to hold back a sob. Her shoulders shrugged in silent turmoil as a few tears slipped down her cheeks.
He tilted her face up to his. “Some things in life you don’t rush. The decision to marry is definitely one of them. For the weeks we’ve been traveling together, we’ve prayed with the children. That was wise. I think it would be wise if we prayed separately and together about this. If we seek God’s will, He’ll honor our hearts and show us the way.”
Charity nodded.
“Tell you what: Why don’t you sew this button to the bonnet of our wagon? When we see it, it’ll serve as a reminder to us to truly consider our paths and seek the Lord’s intent.”
“That would be best,” she agreed in a strained voice.
“At any point in time—even now, if you know your heart and mine won’t be a comfortable match, I want you to take it down and …” He searched his mind for what she could do with it. He’d never again want to set eyes on the piece. “Set it beneath a wheel so it is crushed and left behind in the dust so there will be no doubt and no keepsake to act as a thorn to our memories.”
She simply looked at him. He knew she’d heard him, but she gave no response. “Charity, if you are mortified by even the possibility of being my wife, you can say so now. I’ll still carry you and your things to Oregon. You know that, don’t you?”
“We’ll continue on and pray. I’ll stitch it securely so it won’t accidentally get jostled loose.”
“Fine.” He wanted to let out a shout. At least she hadn’t rejected him outright. “I’m not letting you shoulder the explanation for this alone. Best we make a general announcement than let tongues wag.”
He reached out his other hand. She took it, and he helped her rise. Their hands clasped for the first time as he bowed his head. “Father, Your Word instructs us to come to You for wisdom. Charity and I believe in You and want to live to please You. The union of two hearts is not a light matter. Please grant us strength to take time in considering this, and make Your plan for our lives clear. I want to thank You for the way You’ve allowed us to work together well thus far and ask that You would continue to bless us as we continue on, on the trail and in our lives. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Bartered Bride Romance Collection Page 10