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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Gabe slid his rifle in its holster then scooped the girl in his arms. If she didn’t belong to Red Feather’s tribe, he took a huge risk by moving her. But no one deserved to be left to the wolves.

  He handed the body to Hiram, climbed into the saddle, then waited while Hiram helped him drape her over the saddle in front of him.

  Hiram jogged out of sight then returned with Sam’s pony. “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your son’s horse. It was easier than getting mine ready.”

  “Don’t mind at all. I appreciate you checking on my cows.” Which he no longer had. It could take days to hunt them down. More time away from building the. “They are my cows, right?”

  “Yep. I found the fence rails tossed to the side like firewood. Someone has it in for you real bad. How do you plan on finding Red Feather?” Hiram asked as they plodded home. “Ain’t they gone to their winter grounds?”

  “I’ll check on the other side of the mountain. They usually winter on the other side of that pass.” Gabe steered Rogue over a bumpy patch of ground. The girl might be dead, but it didn’t seem right to give her a rough ride. “That’s where they stayed last winter. Snows are less there.”

  “Are you expecting a harsh snowfall?”

  “A few feet. Maybe a blizzard or two. Why? You still thinking on coming out for Thanksgiving?” Gabe knew what Hiram was doing. Keeping his mind off the dead girl in his lap. He’d been worthless for a few days after Maggie’s death. This was different. The Indian girl was a stranger. Tragic, but it wasn’t like losing a loved one.

  “Mabel’s got her heart set on it. She’s been a bit lonesome since Maggie passed.”

  “We’ll plan on you coming then. Charity will be thrilled.” If Gabe could keep her safe that long.

  ###

  Charity stared at her ruined garden, thankful she’d harvested and canned most of the produce. If they were careful, they ought to have enough put aside for the winter. It was meat they were low on, and since Gabriel was trying to build his herd, he didn’t seem likely to butcher one.

  “Sam!” She faced her son. “Come tomorrow, I need you to teach me how to shoot your pa’s rifle. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, Ma. But why don’t you ask Pa?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be gone hunting his cattle tomorrow.” If Charity learned to shoot, she could defend the homestead in her husband’s absence and, with any luck, help put meat on the table. Besides, any time she asked Gabriel’s help in matters of safety, he told her it was his job and not to worry.

  “All you need is a steady hand and a good eye.”

  Charity laid an arm across Sam’s shoulder and let him chatter as they headed toward the barn. Lady and Prince trotted beside them. Mabel and Meg chose to stay inside and prepare supper..

  “Then, once I’m a good shot—” She figured a couple of hours of practice ought to do it, “you can show me the best hunting grounds, and we’ll surprise your pa with a smokehouse full of meat.”

  “Have you ever shot before?” Sam frowned.

  “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s nice to be optimistic and all, Ma, but you’re talking about learning in a day what takes most folks a long time.” He grinned and slid out from under her hand. “There’s Pa, and he’s got something on his horse. Maybe it’s a deer, and we won’t have to spend the time tomorrow.”

  Charity huffed and quickened her step. She would learn to shoot in a day if it killed her. After all, she learned to manage a house in just a week.

  That wasn’t a deer slung over Gabriel’s horse. Raven-black hair swung against the saddle and slim legs hung over the opposite side. Charity clutched her throat and sped to the horse’s side. “Is she dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Who is she?” Charity started to smooth back the girl’s hair, and stopped, instead wiping her palm down her skirt.

  “I have no idea.” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to where Hiram approached. “Let Mabel know her man is here. I’m going to try to find Red Feather. Maybe he’ll know who she is.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Charity placed her hand on his knee. “It might help to have a woman. They might look at it as less threatening.”

  “They might at that, but it could be dangerous.”

  She scowled. “I will take that chance, Gabriel. If it could make things easier, then I’m willing to attempt it.”

  After several tense, silent moments, he gave a slow nod, clearly not sure about the idea of her going.

  Charity lifted her skirts and dashed to the house for her shawl before he could change his mind. Hiram wasn’t far behind. When Mabel caught sight of her husband, she squealed loud enough to scare birds from the trees, then buried her face in her hands.

  Charity smiled and reached for her shawl. “I’m going with Gabriel. Would you mind watching the children?”

  Mabel shook her head then threw herself into Hiram’s arms. “We’ll be happy right here while we wait.” She caressed her husband’s face. “Where are they going, Hiram?”

  Without waiting to hear his answer, Charity rushed back to Gabriel and mounted Sam’s pony. She would have liked to ride Ruby, but Gabriel seemed to be chomping at the bit as it was. While she’d been in the soddy, he had tied bedrolls behind each saddle and remounted. Charity forced a swallow past her dry throat at the thought of spending the night in the dark, chilly woods. Maybe she should have grabbed her coat.

  “Should we wait until morning?” She eyed the setting sun.

  “I don’t want her family to come looking for her and find her here. It wouldn’t be safe for Sam and Meg. Not safe for any of us, most likely.” He urged Rogue forward. “Better we find them, so as to take suspicion off ourselves. We’ll have a hard enough time explaining her death as it is. Thankfully, very few of Red Feather’s tribe own guns.”

  Charity gulped. What if the Indians attacked before Gabriel had the opportunity to tell his side of the story? What if having her along meant nothing more than that Gabriel had a woman to trade for the life of this one? Indians did that, didn’t they? Oh, why hadn’t she listened more when the miners spoke of such things? Read more books about the west?

  Without speaking, Gabriel led the way from the homestead and toward a mountain pass. Despite the grievous circumstances, Charity couldn’t help but scan her surroundings for caves that might yield gold. Gold, that in the right amounts, might make life easier for her and Gabriel.

  Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of the savory stew at home simmering on the stove. She wished she had grabbed some biscuits or dried meat. Maybe the Indians would lend, or sell, them some food.

  Who was the poor thing draped over Gabriel’s saddle? Definitely someone’s daughter or sister. Wife maybe? Were they even now searching for her?

  She moved the pony to Rogue’s side. Gabriel’s lips moved in silent prayer, as his free hand rested on the deceased woman’s shoulder. Charity let the pony fall back again. If her husband prayed, he must be more worried than she had originally thought. She closed her eyes. Because of her impetuous need to go where he went, to offer her services even though he obviously didn’t need, or want them, she had put more worry on Gabriel’s shoulders. He had to consider her safety as well as his own. Why couldn’t she curb her impulsiveness and think before acting? Why did she press matters when the answer was obviously no?

  Because she was spoiled, plain and simple. Sure, she’d spent the last couple of years doing the laundry of miners, but she was spoiled all the same. When she wanted something, she went after it in total disregard of the circumstances. Her dear da had spent too much time and money on her. Until death took him away, she had not had to lift a finger if she didn’t want to. She thought she’d left that behavior behind.

  She opened her mouth to tell Gabriel she was sorry, but thought better of it. Now wasn’t the time. She sighed. They had so much to talk about when things settled down.

  When night fell, Gabriel halted
in a stand of aspen. After sliding from his horse, he gently laid the dead girl under a tree. “We’ll have to camp here and head into the village in the morning. I don’t want to chance riding up on them in the dark.”

  Charity nodded and untied her bedroll with frozen fingers. Already, the night chill set her teeth to chattering and her bones to trembling.

  While Gabriel built a fire, she wrapped her bedding around her shoulders and hunkered next to the fire pit. Oh, hurry and light. She peeked at her husband from beneath lowered lashes. What would he say if she asked to share his body warmth during the night?

  Would he welcome her or push her away? She stared into the flickering flames. Having so little experience with men, she had no idea how he would respond. They were married, he looked at her with admiration at times, but possibly he still loved his former wife. How could he not? He saw her in the faces of his children every day.

  She stared at the dark night sky. A few stars twinkled between growing clouds. Maybe Charity should have asked her ma questions when she had the opportunity. Ma must have loved Da at one time. She must have looked at him with love rather than annoyance when they first wed.

  Charity sighed. So many questions. She studied Gabriel hunkered down across from her. She was hitched to the finest man she had the privilege of ever knowing, and they were practically strangers.

  22

  Something sharp poked Charity in the ribcage. She swatted it away. “Stop it.” A strange voice grunted and she opened her eyes.

  A scowling Indian towered over her. She screamed, fought her bedroll to escape, and then scuttled backward until a tree trunk impeded her retreat. The Indian’s menacing look deepened. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.

  Gabriel stood imprisoned between two Indian. Blood dripped from his split lip. His face flushed as he gazed at Charity, sending her a silent warning to behave.

  Another brave lifted the dead girl’s body and lashed it to the back of an Indian pony. Other than Charity’s scream, no one made a sound. Her skin prickled. Sweat broke out on her brow as her captor pulled her toward her horse. She wanted to pull away. Everything in her screamed to know what their plans for her and Gabriel were.

  Her captor ordered Charity to mount, and then tied her hands to the saddle horn. The Indians mounted and led her and Gabe in the opposite direction from where they had intended to go.

  Gabriel sidled his horse closer to Charity. “These are not Red Feather’s people. I think we’ve run into a rogue band,” he whispered.

  The tone of his voice told her that was very bad. “What are we going to do?” Her blood ran cold. “Does the girl belong to them?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’ll have to keep our wits about us and look for an opportunity to escape. If you see one, take it. Don’t wait for me.”

  “I won’t leave you.” He couldn’t ask her to.

  “Please, for once, don’t argue. The children can’t be left alone. One of us has to make it back.”

  “They won’t be alone. Mabel and Hiram would love to keep them.”

  “I’m begging you.”

  The lead Indian hissed and Charity and Gabriel pulled apart. She wanted nothing more than to kick Sam’s pony in the side and gallop far away with Gabriel close behind her. Why hadn’t she ventured forth and asked to share his bedroll last night? What if she never had another opportunity to steal a kiss? To feel his arms wrapped tight around her? See his eyes darken with desire? Even if he didn’t love her as a husband loves his wife, she had noticed the way he looked at her when her hair was down.

  Tears stung her eyes. She was a foolish woman, dwelling on dreams. They would die in these mountains. The children would be left to the likes of Amos Jenkins. She shook her head. Not if she could help it.

  She took stock of where they were, wishing she had paid more attention yesterday. The tallest mountain peak was on her right. That meant home was to the left and back, right? She never was good at directions. She focused on Gabriel’s strong back. With God’s help, he would get them home safely. God seemed to listen to Gabriel.

  Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d eaten. Most likely, Gabriel figured they would be at Red Feather’s camp and treated as guests by now.

  She shifted in the saddle, trying to restore circulation to her numb bottom and chafed wrists. Not to mention her need to use the necessary. She cut a sideways glance at the Indian who woke her. He kept his gaze straight ahead, long braids hanging down his front.

  “Excuse me? Could we stop for a moment?” She craned her neck to get his attention.

  He remained as stoic as the pine trees around them.

  “I don’t think they speak English.” Gabriel dropped back. “Besides, talking may only make them mad.”

  “But I need to …” She sighed, knowing she’d have to wait until they stopped. How did Gabriel manage to look every bit as strong as their captors, even with his swollen lip? Charity was terrified to within an inch of her life. She definitely didn’t want to spend her last day on earth tied to the back of a pony. “What are they going to do with us?”

  “Sell us, maybe? I’m not sure.” Gabriel shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  She hoped so. For a moment, she was almost tempted to pray, but was that would jinx them. Surely, Gabriel had them covered in the prayer department. She tightened her thighs and planted her feet in the stirrups to lift herself a bit off the saddle. A few more hours of this, and she’d wish the Indians had killed her in her sleep.

  Were the children missing them by now? Had Mabel and Hiram taken them to their place? How long until someone contacted the sheriff? She shook her head. She could let the questions plague her, or she could think of a way out of their situation. The best she could figure, it all depended on their captors releasing her to use the necessary. Then, she could escape and think of a plan to rescue Gabriel.

  The sun sat low in the sky. The wind had picked up, sending blasts of cold through her. Her bladder screamed, her legs burned, and her head pounded by the time the group stopped for the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain was exactly what Charity did not need. She didn’t look forward to a cold drenching, or to being out in a storm at this elevation.

  Gabriel slid from Rogue’s back as if he were born to the saddle. Charity had to be dragged off and left to crumple in a heap near the horse’s hooves. None of her lessons had equipped her for hours on the back of a horse.

  She glared and used the nearest tree to help get to her feet. Her mouth was as dry as a desert. Her stomach had given up on food hours ago.

  She was lifted off the ground and deposited roughly next to Gabriel. Good. They could work together to get free. Work on each other’s knots. Then, maybe if she danced around like Meg when she had to do her business, the Indians would get the hint and let her slide behind a bush.

  “Help me up,” she whispered to Gabriel.

  “What do you have planned?” He took a quick glance to where the Indians worked at building a fire.

  Charity would like to watch, interested in seeing how they expected to get a fire started in the rising wind, but more important things beckoned. “I need to use the necessary. While I do so, you make a distraction. I’ll run so a couple of them chase me, and you take care of the rest. Then, we’ll be free.” She grinned.

  “What if they catch you? Or what if I’m not able to ‘take care of’ the ones left behind?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “That’s the part you need to figure out. You work on distraction and getting away. I’ll work on my part.”

  He shook his head. “Bear against me and use your legs to rise to your feet. I think it’s a bad idea, but I don’t have a better one.”

  She braced against him and “walked” to her feet. “Why did they take us and the girl?”

  “I think they know who she is, even if she doesn’t belong to their tribe. They probably want to use us to make some kind of deal.”<
br />
  “I refuse to be someone’s pawn.” She started crossing her legs and hopping back and forth.

  Gabriel snorted. “You look ridiculous, but keep it up. You definitely have their attention.”

  The Indians pointed and guffawed before the leader waved Charity to a group of bushes off to their left. They jabbered in their language, laughed some more, and tossed a hunk of pemmican to Gabriel.

  Charity paused for a moment and eyed the food. No, she needed to take care of business and escape. Food could wait. She hoped.

  With her hands still tightly tied in front of her, Charity raced into the trees. She had told Gabe she would leave him, but she couldn’t. If the situation were reversed, she could guarantee, Gabriel would not leave her behind.

  First, she needed a place to hide. Somewhere she could work on her bindings and not be easily discovered.

  She ran until her breath came in gasps. She tripped and slid across the forest floor, stopping against a hollow log. Could she force herself inside with the decaying leaves and insects? She swallowed back bile. It would be the perfect place to wait. Not too far from camp, but maybe far enough the Indians wouldn’t look too hard.

  A foul smell drifted from the log’s interior. She recoiled and took a deep breath. She could do this. For Gabriel, she could crawl into the dark with the bugs and the stench. She dropped to her knees. Something sharp stabbed her from under a bed of leaves. She dug, finding a sharp rock. Grabbing it, she dropped to her knees and crawled inside the log, breathing through her mouth with small measured gasps. She never thought of herself as someone afraid of the dark before, but her skin chilled from more than the weather and bugs. Blackness engulfed her.

  Her hand sunk into something mushy, and she shuddered. God, if you could listen to me just this once, help me get through this and save Gabriel. If He did, she promised to be a better person. Someone worthy of His attention.