Chasing Charity

by Marcia Gruver

  No matter. Soon she’d be mistress of her own big house, filled with brand-new rooms to look at, to decorate however she saw fit. Daniel had built it for Charity, but Charity would never live there. Emmy would marry Daniel, and the pretty, brick-fronted structure with its wide columns and a porch that wrapped all the way around would be hers. And there wouldn’t be a pink rose in sight.

  Hugging her pillow, she rolled to the other side of the bed where her vanity table beckoned. She knew she should dress and freshen up, but why go to all the trouble? Why wash her face, pin up her hair, get all gussied up for these four walls?

  Hooves pounded up the drive. She leaped from the bed and rushed to her second-floor window, arriving just as the horse and rider passed from sight, hidden by the tangled branches of the oak outside her window. She peered out, using the lace curtain for cover, and caught a quick glimpse of muddy boots as the caller moved under the portico.

  Next came the strident, angry voice of Auntie Bert. “You got a lot of nerve coming around here, Daniel Clark.”

  Emmy gasped. Daniel? What in the world...?

  “There ain’t no need for that shotgun, ma’am.”

  Shotgun! Emmy’s heart pounded so hard she feared they’d hear it downstairs.

  Daniel’s familiar voice rumbled, but she couldn’t make out his words. Desperate to see, she leaned over as far as possible, but the front porch roof hid all but their feet.

  Aunt Bert’s voice became shrill. “Did you say wolf?”

  “Mad with rabies, Mrs. Bloom. I shot it dead.”

  “Is my girl all right?”

  “She’s safe enough—from any four-legged threat, at least.”

  “What do you mean by that?” This from Emmy’s mama.

  “Mrs. Dane, there are prowling wolves of the two-legged sort that can be just as dangerous.”

  Aunt Bert’s voice took a hard edge. “You can say that again. I’m looking at one.”

  Mama shushed her.

  After an edgy silence, Aunt Bert piped up again. “What is it you’re trying to say to us, boy?”

  “If you’re really aiming to know, I’ll tell you.”

  “Get on with it, then.”

  Emmy strained to hear, but Daniel’s next words escaped her. She considered shimmying down the trellis and listening from behind the hedge but feared they’d catch her. She leaned so far out she had to tangle the fingers of both hands in the ancient vines to keep from toppling headfirst out of the window.

  “Mrs. Bloom, you don’t even know where Charity is, do you?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I know exactly where she is. She’s over at the Lone Star Hotel under the watchful eye of a friend.”

  Daniel cleared his throat. “I suppose by friend you mean Buddy Pierce?”

  “Yep. I got that nice boy looking out for my Charity. If it weren’t for the likes of you and her so-called best friend, she’d be here with me where she belongs.”

  Emmy cringed, but Daniel let it pass. “Well, ma’am, that nice boy you speak of is a stranger around these parts, ain’t he? Just how much do you know about him?”

  Aunt Bert was quiet for so long Emmy wondered if she’d heard Daniel’s question.

  “I’ve had about enough out of you!”

  She heard, all right. Fury boiled from Aunt Bert’s mouth, so fierce it singed the fuzz on Emmy’s ears.

  “I ain’t answering no more questions from a polecat. I trusted you with my girl once, but you turned out to be a fizzle. Don’t come around here now telling me who to trust with my own daughter.”

  “Pour it into him, Bert. He ain’t good for nothing but telling lies and shaming young girls.”

  Emmy’s grip tightened on the vines. Oh, Mama! How could you?

  Daniel’s raised voice echoed beneath the vaulted roof. “What you think of me don’t change the facts, Bertha Bloom. You ought to know I just parted company with Charity and Mr. Pierce. Your nice boy there had his hands all over Charity, right out in the open in the bright of day.”

  Tension charged the air, like the second before lightning strikes.

  Emmy felt the hair on her scalp lift.

  “I don’t believe you.” Aunt Bert’s voice crashed the answering thunder.

  “Ask Sidney Anderson and Jack Mayhew. They’ll tell you it’s true.”

  “No! I’m saying I don’t believe you had the brash to march up here and spout something like this about my Charity, after what all you done to her.” Aunt Bert’s pitch might’ve shattered glass.

  Another weighty hush.

  Daniel shuffled his feet. “I didn’t come here to fret nobody,” he finally said. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

  “All I want to know is you in your saddle, riding away from here.”

  More silence. Emmy imagined them staring each other down.

  Then Daniel’s parting words floated up, as chipper as if they’d gathered for a Sunday social. “I’ll take my leave then, ladies. You two have a pleasant day now, you hear?” Emmy pictured him tipping his hat, turning a rigid spine to the old biddies and walking away.

  She withdrew a bit when Daniel stepped down off the porch and headed for his horse. He mounted up then rode out from under the oak tree and down the drive, slinging mud in his wake.

  The women were still on the porch muttering dark curses at his back. Emmy leaned out again to better hear what Aunt Bert was saying.

  “Why, if I weren’t a lady, I’d kick him into a pulp.”

  “I’d tie him up and hold him for you. What you think he’s up to, Bert?”

  “No good, I’d say. Seems to be pulling some kind of a bluff.”

  Her mama paused for a bit before asking the question plaguing Emmy’s mind. “You don’t think there’s any truth to what he said, do you?”

  Aunt Bert’s tone chilled Emmy’s spine. “Magda ... there’d better not be.”

  More shuffling feet, and then the door closed behind them.

  Emmy pulled her head inside and made a mad dash for her clothes, dressing as if the house was on fire. On the way to climb out the window, she cast a glance at her image in the mirror over the dresser.

  Drat! Her hair needed pinning, but there was no time to do it right. She had to catch Daniel.

  He would take the trail out. She could catch him if she cut across the fields on Rebel. She wouldn’t dare try it if Papa was home. Oh, there’d be trouble if she got caught. Terrible trouble. But she could outrun Mama.

  In the barn, she paused before saddling old Rebel. Papa prized the palomino, still the fastest horse on the place, over most things in life, sometimes even her and Mama. Only there was no time to weigh the consequences. Daniel was riding away.

  Five minutes later, Emmy raced across the field. She urged the horse through a tight thicket then over a marshy low spot to Jordan Gully. Despite her wishes, he slowed to pick his way across a deep ditch on the row of planks fashioned into a makeshift bridge. At the trail, she saw Daniel and laid a switch to Rebel’s flank.

  “Daniel! Oh, Daniel, wait.”

  He turned in the saddle and reined up his horse. As she approached, he drew alongside, and the press of his leg against her thigh took her breath.

  “Emmy, what in blazes are you doing out here?”

  The sound of her name in Daniel’s long drawl raised gooseflesh on her arms. “I came to talk to you.”

  “Where’d you come from? I was just at your place.”

  “I know. I heard everything. Wasn’t it dreadful?”

  Daniel nudged his hat up and checked the trail behind her. “Come on. We’d best get you out of sight.” He took the reins from her hand and led her horse into the cover of trees and thick underbrush.

  They dismounted, and Emmy threw herself against him. “I had to come, sugar. I just had to. Please don’t be cross.” She pulled away to look at him. “I’m appalled by the hateful way Mama spoke to you. It made me feel sick to my stomach.”

  Daniel squirmed in her arms and
didn’t return her embrace. “If she catches us together, she’ll have my hide and yours, too. I’m hardly in her good graces just now—or Bertha Bloom’s, for that matter.”

  “Who cares? It’s not fair. How dare those cackling crones treat you so shamefully! Would they rather you’d married Charity when you love me? What sort of life would that be for either of you? I say it’s a blessing you woke up in time.”

  Her arms were tight around his neck, her body pressed close, but Daniel stood stiff as a plank with his arms to his sides.

  She wiggled impatiently. “Hold me, sweetheart, and don’t you fret. Things will turn out right in the end. We’ll make them understand it was for the best. You’ll see. Mama will finally come around to our way of thinking. Charity, too, for that matter.”

  At the mention of Charity’s name, Daniel’s body tensed, and he pushed her away. “I just don’t know anymore, Emmy.”

  The tone of his voice, his gruff manner, even the sick-cow look on his face were all new to Emmy, and they frightened her. “What, sugar?” She tried to get a look at his eyes, but his head was lowered. “What don’t you know?”

  “It won’t be that easy now. There’s more to consider.”

  She drew back a step. “More to consider? Like what?”

  Daniel took off his hat and used his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Then he propped the toe of his boot on a fallen tree and leaned into it, staring off into the woods.

  Emmy watched and waited.

  He cut his eyes around to her. “It’s Mama.”

  Emmy knew they’d have her own mama’s ruffled feathers to contend with, and Aunt Bert’s, too. The mention of Mrs. Clark came straight out of nowhere. “Your mama? What about her?”

  Daniel’s foot slid off the tree and hit the dry leaves with a crash. He straightened and faced her, and his piercing blue eyes sliced her to the bone. “Emmy, she don’t feel the same about you. She don’t want us together.”

  Emmy’s jaw dropped. Icy fingers of fear gripped the nape of her neck. She recovered and tried to smile, but her mouth quivered. “Don’t be silly! She likes me. You’ve told me so a dozen times.” She clutched her skirt in bunches to still her trembling hands. “Of course, you didn’t need to tell me. I could see it for myself, whenever I was with her.” She swallowed, trying to force the shrillness from her voice. “It’s Charity she don’t approve of, not me. She said I’m a much better catch than Bertha Bloom’s daughter. You said so yourself.”

  Belligerence set Daniel’s lips in a hard line. “That was before we shamed her in front of the whole town and tarnished her precious reputation. She’s singing a different tune now, and it ain’t a lullaby.” He dashed his hat against his leg so hard it made her jump. “All because you chased me from the church house like a lovesick heifer. Why didn’t you just keep your behind on that pew, Emmy? Couldn’t you act like a lady for once?”

  Emmy closed her gaping mouth and swiped her hand across it. “You’ll take up for me, won’t you? With your mama, I mean?”

  He lowered his eyes and turned his back on her.

  She rushed him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’ll take a stand for me—for us—won’t you?”

  Daniel’s body went rigid again. Even his voice came out stilted. “Maybe we need to let things cool down some. Give folks time to forget.”

  She released him and withdrew. “The other night under that oak tree you didn’t say anything about cooling down.”

  “Don’t talk like a trollop. Besides, it ain’t like that.”

  “What’s it like, then?” Emmy felt like a shrew. She heard the harsh, strident tone of her voice but couldn’t stop. “You can’t even look at me, Daniel? I’ve risked everything to be with you. What will you risk for me?”

  He didn’t answer, didn’t turn to face her.

  She nodded at his obstinate shoulders. “All right, then. I don’t need a pine knot to fall on my head. I guess this is good-bye.”

  Daniel whirled and caught her by the arm. “Come here now. Where do you think you’re going?” He jerked her against him and tightened his grip on her waist. “I’m sorry, sweetness. Don’t pay me no mind. I’m just confused by all the voices in my head—yours, Mama’s, Charity’s—all telling me different things. I can’t think straight no more, that’s all.”

  Emmy stiffened. “Charity’s? You got Charity’s voice in your head?”

  Daniel looked like a hound caught in the coop. “Aw, now, not like you’re thinking. I’m just mighty worried about her, that’s all. She’s been carrying on, all giggly and loose, with some stranger in town. It ain’t like her.”

  “Stranger? Oh, you mean Buddy Pierce.”

  His eyes darkened again. “You know about him?”

  “Well, I saw him. He was out at the house last night. Those two old guineas dragged him inside and gave him a bath.”

  Daniel blinked his disbelief. “A bath? I get the loud end of a shotgun, and that outsider gets a bath?” He glared as if she’d drawn the water herself. “Is there anyplace in town he ain’t horned in on?”

  Wary, she watched his angry face. “I can’t tell why you’re letting him get so far under your skin.”

  Daniel seemed to remember himself, but the dark storm remained on his face. “Ain’t nobody under my skin. I just feel responsible for Charity, what with it being so soon after ... well, you know. I feel like we drove her to act that way.”

  Emmy walked off from him a ways, hands on her hips, one side of her body angled toward him, the other side in retreat. She raised her head and sought his eyes. “And you’re sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”

  He gathered the ends of the reins and led the horses to where she stood. “Let me help you mount up. You’d best be getting back before they miss you. I got all the trouble I want right now. I don’t need the sheriff down my neck.”

  Emmy snorted. “Those two wouldn’t call the sheriff. They’d load up and hunt you down themselves.”

  Daniel made a stirrup for her with his hands and swung her up onto Rebel. “Then get home quick. I’d sooner face the sheriff than Crazy Bertha with a loaded gun.”

  He took to his own saddle, then eased past her and rode out to scout the trail before whistling the all-clear.

  She followed and found him studying the sky. “It’s getting on to the noon meal. They’ll be looking for you.”

  “And they’ll find me.”

  They measured each other with guarded looks. Daniel broke the silence. “Give me some time, Emmy. I’ll set things to right.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “You know I’m not the patient sort.”

  He nodded.

  Emmy nudged Rebel and they trotted away a bit. Then she yanked on the reins and pulled him around. “Daniel?”

  He sat in the same spot, watching her. His lifted chin bade her speak.

  Pulling one foot close to the saddle, she fiddled with her bootstrap. “Is she all right?” Her gaze flickered to his face then returned to her boot. “Charity, I mean? Did that wolf hurt her any?”

  “Never touched her. Charity’s fine.”

  Emmy nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “That’s good.”

  “Go on, girl. Get home.”

  She found her stirrup again. “I’m going.”

  Emmy dug her heels into Rebel’s side. He responded by breaking into a gallop and then a run. She rode hard and didn’t look back, fleeing the bitter truth before it surfaced and ruined everything.

  The big horse tried to slow before the gully, hesitant to cross the plank bridge. She laid the switch to his side and he leapt for it. They landed with a jarring thud and his hooves beat against the boards, sending vibrations through her body. The wind whistled past her ears as they flew over the marsh. Rebel stumbled, bogging down and tripping over roots. She urged him faster. He risked falling, breaking a leg, but still she pushed him.

  On the far side of the swamp, she sent him barreling headlong into the brush. Tangled branches tore at her skirt,
exposing her bare legs to deep scratches. Rebel threatened to buck, so she pulled him out again and sent him crashing into a grove of young trees instead. Somehow he made it through, and she drove him toward the house as if the hounds of hell chased them.

  Inside the dark, cool barn, she worked feverishly to unsaddle the old horse. Rebel heaved and blew, his body lathered with foamy sweat that ran red from deep scratches. Blood matted his long white mane, now a tangle of sticks and twigs.

  Emmy dropped the saddle on the ground and stared at the terrible sight. “Oh, Rebel. What have I done?” Guilt consumed her. She had punished Papa’s horse for Daniel’s sins.

  Her tingling legs began to throb and sting. She pulled up her dress and gasped at the state of her torn and bleeding flesh. Her thighs weren’t so comely now. Unlike Rebel, she knew she deserved it.

  As if confirming her thoughts, a shadow loomed from behind, blocking the warmth of the sun. Startled, she whirled. Mama stood at the barn door, glaring at Emmy’s bare skin.

  “You wicked girl.” She spoke quietly, matter-of-factly.

  Emmy dropped her skirt. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “Where have you been, Emily? What have you been up to that put your legs in that condition?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “So it has nothing to do with Daniel Clark? That’s what you’re telling me?”

  Emmy couldn’t summon the right answer.

  Mama shook her head. “Just as I thought.” She caught sight of the horse and rushed inside the barn. “For heaven’s sake! What happened?” She ran her hands over the bloody cuts. Rebel flinched, and tears sprang to her eyes. She spoke without looking at Emmy, her voice jagged iron. “Find Nash and have him come tend to this animal. Then get upstairs to your room. This time I say when you come out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Emmy hurried toward the barn door, but Mama called her back. She turned slowly, dreading what she might hear.

  “There won’t be no hiding this from your Papa. No telling what he’ll do to you, but I won’t lie to him on your account.”