Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series

by Cynthia Hickey

  He glanced at the divider between the two beds. If he were to have Sam sleep elsewhere and invite Charity over, they wouldn’t be able to have an annulment. The last thing Gabe needed was the distraction of a woman. From now on, he’d make sure he spent all his time in the barn or with the cows. Maybe even have Meg bring his meals out to him.

  Whatever it took not to have to look into those accusing green eyes.

  *

  Charity woke the next morning to a pair of black-eyed Susan eyes watching her sleep. “Good morning, Meg.”

  “Morning, Ma.” The little girl bounced on her knees. “Pa and Sam ate the leftover biscuits and said they’d see us at dinner. Ain’t you going to get up and do your chores?”

  “In a moment.” She glanced at the open front door. Sunlight spilled in, dust motes dancing on the beams. “Guess I overslept.”

  “Iffen we don’t do our chores, Pa says he’ll whoop us.”

  Heavens! “He hits you?” Charity’d like to see the man try to lift a hand against her. No man’s bad temper could stand against a cast iron skillet against his skull.

  “Nah. We always do our chores.” Meg grinned, showing off dimples. “I suspect Pa’s just teasing anyhow.”

  Charity threw off her quilt, shook it free of any bugs that might have landed during the night, and reached for the dress she’d worn yesterday. She felt silly for worrying about Sam’s safety the day before. Obviously, Gabe cared deeply for his children. “Let me cook up some eggs, and we’ll get started.”

  “Today’s Monday, so it’s wash and bread day.”

  Charity grimaced. “Who set those rules?”

  “Ma did before she died. Since you’re the new ma, you gotta follow ‘em.” Meg climbed from bed and dashed outside. Within minutes, she’d dragged a metal tub inside.

  Charity shook her head. “Leave that outside. It’ll turn the floor to mud. Gather up the dirty clothes while I fix breakfast.” She’d be darned if she’d do all the work when there was another capable pair of hands around. Laundry! She would’ve liked a couple of days free considering that’s all she seemed to do before.

  The open door beckoned. Charity succumbed to its siren song and gazed out on a clear day. If she listened close, she could hear the breeze through the aspens and the gurgle of the brook. What a welcome change from the bustling town.

  The sound of Gabe’s voice and Sam’s laugh reached her, and she turned toward the corral. Sam trotted around the enclosure on the back of a painted pony while Gabe shouted instructions. Didn’t look to her like the two were getting much work done. Ah, well, that’s the lot of women, wasn’t it? Do the majority of the work while the men played?

  She grabbed a bucket from beside the stoop and headed to the creek. Might as well get the water heating while she cooked. Mama always said a woman could do more than one thing at a time. As she strolled, she heard Gabe holler, “I bet you can’t take him to a trot, Sam!”

  Charity cringed. Did her new husband really bet again?

  4

  The sun’s rays shone like jewels on the surface of the clear creek, kissing the crest of each gurgling ripple. A mockingbird warbled from an oak tree, lending its voice to the serenade of the wind’s song through the branches.

  What a contrast to dusty Virginia City, and a temptation Charity couldn’t resist. She set the bucket on the bank and waded in. Icy water stung her ankles, and she gasped.

  Charity laughed and, once her skin acclimated to the temperature, immersed herself. She stared up through the water at the distorted sun. What splendor! She rolled over and searched the creek bottom. Shiny gold flecks sparkled, and she almost gulped. Could that be gold?

  Laundry and chores could wait. She’d worked from sunup to sundown for as long as she could remember. A few minutes rest wouldn’t be the end of the world. Planting her legs on the creek bed, she pushed to the surface, determined to come back later when she was alone.

  “Ma?” Meg stood beside the creek, tiny fists on her hips. “I thought you drowned.”

  “The water’s wonderful. Come on in.” Charity hiked her skirts and moved toward the bank until the water brushed the tops of her knees like liquid silk chilled from a cool breeze. Heaven. She shoved aside the temptation to strip down to her shift and have a longer swim, or better yet, spend time panning for the one thing that would make her life easier. There wasn’t time. Not if she planned on doing the list of chores outlined by Meg.

  “I love the water.” She cupped her hands and splashed Meg as the little girl joined her.

  The little girl shrieked and retaliated. Soon, Meg’s clothes were as soaked as Charity’s. Charity laughed. “I feel more like working now, don’t you?”

  “Yes!” Meg jumped up and down. “But the water’s really cold.”

  “It is a bit of a chill, but I think maybe we’ll come back to wash off the day’s sweat when we’re finished with our work. What do you say?” She patted Meg’s head.

  Meg nodded and pushed through the water until she reached the bank. Charity grinned. Despite Meg’s blue-tinged lips she splashed and shrieked like she was having the time of her life. Maybe being a mother wasn’t so hard after all. She grabbed the bucket she’d discarded, filled it, and began the first trek back to the waiting wash tub.

  As they trudged past the corral, Gabriel and Sam turned and stared. “What happened?” Gabriel frowned and leaped the fence. His long strides carried him to their side. He followed them to the basin. “Did you fall in? Did something frighten you?”

  “We played, Papa!” Meg clapped her hands. “And we’re going back later to play again.”

  “Played?”

  “Yes, Mr. Williams. We played.” Charity narrowed her eyes. “Have you heard of it?”

  Gabriel removed his hat and scratched his head. “Of course I have. There just doesn’t seem to be a lot of time left for such foolishness once chores are done.”

  Charity dumped the water in the tub. “I intend to make time. Sometimes before beginning chores.”

  He crossed his arms. “I suppose that’s all right, as long as the work gets done.”

  “You suppose?” Charity took a deep breath and bent to light a fire in the stack of wood piled for laundry. She’d keep her temper. After all, they’d have to live together for close to a year. There was no sense in causing waves. “That’s kind of you. If you’ll excuse me, I have more water to fetch. Today is wash day, after all.”

  “It’s coming on lunch time.”

  Charity glanced at the sun. “So it is.”

  They’d played longer than she’d intended. She gritted her teeth. How could she tell him that ham and beans pretty much exhausted her cooking ability? That and scrambled eggs. She shrugged and headed back to the creek, leaving him standing with Meg. He’d figure out soon enough that the only things she knew how to do well were laundry and making soap.

  By the time she’d filled the basin and shaved slivers of an astringent soap into the water, perspiration ran in rivulets down her back. So much for the relaxing swim. She groaned, remembering Meg’s words about baking bread. However was she supposed to create time for all those things, especially when she had to cook meals three times a day and hadn’t much of a clue how?

  She glanced around for the men in the family. Nowhere in sight, but come the scent of food and they would stampede for the house.

  She missed her mother. They could’ve sat down, and Charity could’ve asked all the questions swarming through her head. Or better yet, she would’ve learned these valuable skills while growing up. How to cook flavorful meals, and keep a house clean, sew clothes, raise children, can vegetables, and make a husband happy.

  Gabriel was a fine looking husband. Better than Charity ever thought she’d find in the wilds of Montana. If she could learn how to be a proper wife, maybe he’d ask her to stay at the end of a year. She sagged against an oak tree and blinked away tears.

  Ma died too young, and Charity’s da paid for everything as long as there were fun
ds to be made playing cards. When the money ran out, Charity learned to do laundry, and ate her meals at the boarding house.

  Ah, she was a failure at things most women took for granted. She straightened and grasped the wooden pole to swish clothes in the hot water. Well, life was like a cup of tea, it was all in how she made it. And Charity was determined to make the best of her new life. She’d work hard, and still find time to play a little each day.

  “Meg, come stir this pot while I whip together something for lunch.” Charity propped her hands on her hips and popped the kinks from her back.

  She left the door open to the house in order to shed light on the shelves and surveyed what little was left. She needed to plant a garden immediately if she hoped to have any vegetables for the winter. If they cut another window in the wall, she could grow herbs inside year round on a plant shelf.

  Today, it would be beans and day old rolls for lunch. She stuck her head out the door. “Meg, did your father happen to get a garden in by any chance?”

  “He’s got ground tilled behind the house.”

  “Seeds?”

  “In jars behind the canned goods.”

  “Bless you.” Meg was going to be invaluable, even as young as she was. The girl seemed much older than six. Charity grinned. She’d teach her new daughter how to be a child once she settled into a routine. With all the things filling her day, when would she have time to pan for gold?

  *

  Amos melted farther into the safety of the trees and watched life progress on the Williams farm. No sane person could call it a ranch. Not with fifty head of cattle and a sod house. At least Amos didn’t consider it much more than a homesteader’s resting place.

  What was Mrs. Williams doing inside the soddy? Such a lovely woman to be stuck in such a place. But then again, the Irish weren’t used to much more than a hole in the ground. Still, her fair skinned and bright haired beauty alone warranted her worthy of more in Amos’s eyes. Add in the fact that he’d spied through the open door earlier and noticed four beds instead of three. A marriage of convenience. He could give her more. Gabe didn’t deserve her.

  He’d laughed as Gabe replaced the fence railing earlier, then moved on to survey the house. Progress on the new place was moving faster than Amos liked. He would have to do something to slow things down.

  *

  Gabe fixed the fence post and stepped back to survey his work. The repair in the split-rail fence ought to work. Not many ranchers out here used fences, but then again, not many kept losing their cattle to the valleys farther up the mountain. “Ready to head back, Sam? Your new ma ought to have something fixed for us to eat by now.” Although she had gotten a late start on the laundry. He hoped he hadn’t married a sluggard. Playing in the creek! What would the woman think of next?

  Maggie hadn’t seemed to need such things as relaxation, other than their nightly winter Bible readings and Sunday afternoons left to plan her chores for the following week. She’d worked from sunup to sundown with nary a complaint.

  Gabe shook his head and headed for the house. He stopped by the barn. Meg and Charity tugged the metal washtub across the yard. What did they have up their calico sleeves?

  “Charity?”

  “Thank the heavens!” Charity released her grip on the handle. “Could you help me drag this to the creek before your lunch burns?”

  “Why?”

  “So I can rinse the clothes.” Charity spoke as if he were slow-witted. “There’s no sense in heating up water when the day is beautiful and the creek is running.”

  “But, that’s not the way—”

  She stuck up a finger. “I suggest you do not finish that sentence. There is one thing we need to get straight. I am not your former wife, nor will I do everything the same way she did.”

  “But—”

  The finger remained as rigid as a mountain pine. “Enough, Mr. Williams. Will you help me or not?”

  “Of course, I will.” He wasn’t a scoundrel. With a grunt, he hefted the tub and marched to the creek. He dropped it and turned. “Can we eat now?”

  Charity narrowed her eyes and growled. “It’s on the stove. Help yourself.”

  Obviously he’d said something wrong again. But for the life of him, Gabe had no idea what. When the little spitfire’s eyes sparked like emeralds, and her brogue deepened, he knew he’d better change tactics, and change them fast. But she sure was pretty when she was spitting mad. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “When I’m finished with the laundry. Wouldn’t want to jeopardize the day’s schedule, would I?” Charity flounced around and stomped off.

  Gabe glanced at his children. Meg shrugged, and Sam looked as clueless as Gabe felt. There wasn’t anything left to do but go fill their plates.

  *

  Charity should have stayed and eaten lunch. Her stomach grumbled as she swished clothes in the clean water. She eyed the opposite bank. If she strung a rope, and securely attached the articles of clothing, she could let the water do the work while she panned for gold. Her gaze settled on the flecks in the sand. There was a lot of gold here, she just knew it. Buried beneath the surface like eggs laid in straw.

  She plunged her hand into the sand and clutched a rock. Bringing it to the light, she almost shrieked at the gold strands weaving through the rock. It was easier than she’d expected. She’d be rich! She stilled. Half of whatever she found would belong to Gabe. It was his land after all, and he was her husband, even if in name only. She dropped the rock into her pocket. That meant she’d have to mine twice as much. She didn’t mind sharing, as long as she got her fair share.

  “Charity?”

  She gasped and spun, nearly falling backward into the creek. Clutching her pocket, she took a deep breath. “Gabriel.”

  He held out a hand. “Please, come eat.”

  The offer was tempting, but she’d gone with only two meals a day for most of her life. “I really should finish here. This afternoon, I need to get the garden planted if we hope to eat during the winter.”

  “The children can help.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk of an aspen tree. A curl fell forward over one eye, giving him a rakish look.

  Charity curled her fingers tighter around her treasure to prevent herself from reaching out and smoothing his hair away from his face. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  He scratched his head. “Do you know how to cook anything other than beans?”

  “Not really.” She squared her shoulders. “Nor do I know how to sew, can, tend a garden or care for livestock.”

  “Well, that’s a predicament.” He ran both hands through his hair. “But one I can remedy easy enough. Our closest neighbor is a woman who has lived on these plains for quite some time. I’m sure she’d be glad to teach you what you need to know.”

  “That’s very kind of you to think of a way to help me.” Of course she knew for a fact that her learning would improve his life so they’d both benefit. She squatted next to the tub. “I’ll be up in a little while.”

  “As you wish.” His footsteps faded.

  Charity closed her eyes. Should she have gone? What if she made him angry enough to sever their agreement early? She’d never strike it rich, then. She needed to tell him of her plans. Maybe he would help her. They could strike up a friendship. Become partners. She grinned and pushed to her feet. She’d show him the rock right away.

  Fairly skipping to the house, she withdrew the rock, and burst into the house. “Gabriel, I have a wonderful plan that would benefit us both.”

  Her enthusiasm died at the sight of dirty dishes in the sink, a congealing pot of beans in the center of the table, and no family. Breathing sharply through her nose, she dropped the rock back in her pocket and rolled up her sleeves.

  By the time the kitchen was in order, Charity’s temper simmered like a pan over a slow burning fire. What could Gabriel possibly gain by taking the children off on an afternoon romp after lecturing her about no time for fun when there
were chores to do?

  With a snap of her apron, she draped it over a chair, and stormed outside and around the corner. There, poking holes in the dirt with a long stick, was Gabriel. The children followed along behind him, dropping seeds in the furrows of her garden.

  5

  Charity’s throat stung from unshed tears. Gabriel cared enough about her workload to help her, and she’d done nothing but think evil thoughts while washing dishes. Oh, but she was a wretched woman of the worst kind.

  “Surprise.” Gabriel grinned. “I thought you were feeling overwhelmed with everything, so the children and I took this off your hands.”

  “Bless you.” Charity blinked rapidly. “I have something to share with you, too.” She pulled the stone from her pocket and, with a flourish, handed it to him. “We’re going to be rich.”

  Gabriel’s smile faded as he took the rock from her. “This is fool’s gold. Worthless.”

  “No, ‘tisn’t.” Charity shook her head. It couldn’t be. “It’s real, I’m sure of it.”

  He sighed. “I’d know if there were gold in my creek, don’t you think?”

  “Have you searched?” There had to be gold. Miners used to come to Charity all the time, paying with dust or flakes, and there was very little of the precious stuff left in her trunk. Not enough to provide a life for herself, anyway.

  “I’m sorry.” He handed her the stick. “If you want to take over here, I’ll head to the neighbors and set up a time for Mrs. Stoltz to help you. I’ll be back by supper.”

  “Thank you.” Charity dropped her ‘gold’ back in her pocket. Her heart thudded to her stomach same as the rock did in her pocket. She’d keep it as a reminder not to give up. There was a reason she was here, and the reason was gold. She knew it.