Chasing Charity

by Marcia Gruver

  The aroma of hot blueberries and fresh-churned butter made its way to Charity’s nose, setting her stomach to growling. She pressed her arm against her middle, but too late. Both women glanced at her and then looked away.

  Elsa bent over the tray. “Here, dear. Let me serve you a scone. Amy Jane, pour our guest some tea. She’s just had a very long walk.”

  Amy Jane slouched in the chair with her arms folded, her jiggling knees a sign of her impatience. She watched Charity with wary eyes and pretended not to hear her mama. “What brings you way out here anyways?”

  Elsa fired a horrified look at Amy Jane. “Mind your manners, child. She’s come to see you, of course.”

  Unconvinced, the girl watched Charity with one raised brow.

  Charity took a large, somewhat indelicate bite of scone and chased it with a sip of tea before she answered. “Actually, I’m here on business.”

  “Business?” Elsa’s brow shot higher than Amy Jane’s. “I thought—”

  The girl cast a smug look at her mama.

  Elsa made a face then moved her seat closer to Charity. “What sort of business, dear?”

  “I’ve come to offer my wedding dress for sale.”

  The daughter’s mouth fell open. The mother choked on a sip of tea. While they recovered, Elsa sat and stared, and a smile stole over Amy’s face.

  With a rattle, the older woman put down her china cup. “Are you serious?”

  Charity nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Quite.”

  “Dear girl, your mama made that gown for you with her own two hands.”

  Amy Jane scowled. “Hush, Mama. Charity wants to sell the dress. She don’t need you reminding her who made it.” Her greedy eyes swept the room. “Do you have it with you?”

  “No, but if you’re interested in buying, I can return with it today.”

  Amy’s hands went to her flushed face, and her eyes brightened. “Mama, could we? You know how I love that dress. It’s absolutely perfect and prettier than any we’ve seen in the catalogs. Oh, please buy it for me.”

  Rubbing her eyes in circles with her forefingers, Elsa slumped in her chair. “I don’t know, Amy Jane. It would have to be altered a great deal. Even then it might not fit you.”

  “It will, Mama. You’ll see. I’ve been eating less than the chickens.”

  Elsa gave her oversized daughter a doubtful glance and sighed. Then her eyes met Charity’s. “It’s settled, then. Come what may, we’ll take the dress.”

  Charity beamed and reached for a second scone. “I just know you won’t be sorry, Mrs. Pike.”

  Elsa picked up her crocheted napkin and shook it. With a glance down at her mistake, she used the toe of her shoe to brush the scattered crumbs beneath the table. “Dear, there is one last detail.”

  Charity pressed her fingers to her mouth and swallowed the big bite she’d taken with a self-conscious gulp. “And that is...?”

  Crossing her hands over her chest, Elsa swiveled toward her. “While I’m reluctant to discuss business—it’s a man’s job and one I don’t envy—we must come to terms on the worth of the garment. Do you ... um ... have a price in mind?”

  “I do, in fact. After giving the matter careful consideration”—Charity sat up taller and cleared her throat—“I’m asking thirty dollars for it.” Her hopeful heart faltered a bit when Elsa’s face blanched. “I know it’s a lot, Mrs. Pike, but the gown is worth every penny.”

  Elsa plucked the napkin from her lap to fan herself, oblivious this time to the resulting shower of crumbs. Looking like she’d swallowed a pincushion, she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know, dear. Thirty dollars? My, that’s a lot of money for a single item of clothing. After all, it is just a dress.”

  Amy Jane looked anxious. “Not just, Mama. It’s the perfect dress. And I’ll get lots of wear from it.”

  Elsa whirled on her. “Just where do you intend to wear a thing like that, and you married to Isaac Young?” She gathered her napkin into a wad and flung it on the silver tray. “Every time I think of it, I get the vapors. I’ll never approve of your marrying a dirt-poor farm boy. Mark my words, if not for your hardheaded papa, it wouldn’t be happening. Why, I—”

  After a mortified glance at Charity, Amy Jane shot her mama a pointed look.

  Elsa caught the warning. She cleared her throat and turned with a plastered smile. “We’ll buy your wedding gown, Charity. Against my better judgment, we’ll buy it. However, I can’t pay you everything at once. I’ll give you some now, some later, until we’ve paid it off.”

  Amy Jane wrung her hands. “That’ll take weeks. I need the dress right now.” Tears gathered at the corners of her lashes. “You know alterations take time.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Amy Jane! We don’t have that kind of money!” Elsa’s raised voice echoed in the stillness that followed. A raspberry tinge flushing her cheeks, she settled deeper in the chair and fiddled with a thread on her sleeve. Seconds passed before she licked her lips and addressed Charity, speaking in measured tones. “I meant to say money’s a mite scarce just now. My husband’s varied investments take all our ready cash. The end return is worth it, of course. However, we’re forced to scrimp some during the dry spells.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “So I have only a few silver dollars in my purse. Oh, and a jarful of commissary tokens from Bender’s Mill.”

  Charity saw her sale slipping away and along with it her independence. She scooted to the edge of her seat. “I have an idea. Suppose you give me some of the money now, like you said.”

  Elsa’s eyes flickered with interest.

  “Whatever you can manage. And I don’t mind commissary tokens. They’re as good as cash.”

  The flicker ignited to a flame. “Go on.”

  “I’ll give you the dress now and trust you to pay the balance.”

  Amy Jane gasped and bit her knuckles.

  Elsa leaned toward Charity. “You would do that for us?”

  “Of course I will.” I must do it ... for me.

  Amy Jane bounced in her chair, squealing like a cornered hog.

  Despite the quick glance at her furniture and the disapproving look she sent her daughter’s way, Elsa’s smile remained in place. “Shall we shake on it, then? That’s what the men do.”

  Charity set down her cup and wiped her mouth with the napkin. The three women stood together and took turns exchanging hearty shakes and broad grins.

  Outside on the porch, Charity felt somewhat better about what she’d done. She had a full belly plus five dollars in silver coins and commissary tokens in her pocket, with the promise of more to come. Amy Jane was a happy bride-to-be, looking forward to wearing the wedding dress of her dreams. Overall, it had gone quite well for Charity’s first business transaction.

  She was almost clear of the yard when Red appeared at the edge of the trees and loped across the field to meet her. Dodging just in time, she followed Elsa’s example and shooed him with the hem of her skirt. “You can’t come with me, boy. Go on, git.”

  The big dog ducked his head and slunk out of reach but seemed determined to follow. She stamped her foot. “You hear me, now? I said git. You can’t go home with me.” She laughed at herself. “I can’t go home myself, come to think of it.”

  All the way into town, Red tracked her. Charity threw sticks and small stones at him, but he persisted. Even when she couldn’t hear or see him, she knew he was there, stalking her from the brush. Papa always said the only thing bloodhounds were better at than deer-trailing was man-trailing. She decided there was nothing she could do about it, so she ignored him and trudged ahead.

  Only part of her plan had succeeded. She still had to make the trek to Mother Dane’s house to get the dress then take it to Amy Jane. She dreaded the thought of all that walking. Worse, she dreaded telling Mama she’d sold the dress. She’d sooner face another rabid wolf.

  CHAPTER 12

  Daniel Clark sat propped against the outer wall of Sterling’s Feed Store in a rickety ladder-back chair, his
booted feet crossed high atop piled bags of grain. In the company of several men, Daniel was in no mood for talking, so he kept to himself and pretended to sleep.

  He would have slept, too, but for the stretched-out hole in the cane-bottom seat. Half his backside protruded through it already. If his body relaxed, he’d wind up in quite a pickle.

  A stiff southern breeze blew up the rain-soaked street, whisking the chill from the mild winter morning. The warmth of the gentle wind swept over him, bringing with it the pungent aroma of horses and mud—animals and land, the smells he loved best. The fragrance of his heritage and his future.

  True enough, timber had made his daddy rich. Not Daniel. He sought his fortune in ranching, and the effort had padded his pockets. Lately, he dreamed of a different sort of gold. Black gold, they called it. If he showed the same knack for finding oil that he had for raising livestock, he’d put this mud-sucking town on the map. Better yet, he might move his talents to a bigger city. Somewhere on the Gulf, Galveston maybe. He reckoned he wouldn’t mind seeing the ocean.

  The uncommon stillness of the men seated about him pulled Daniel from his thoughts. Their endless trite chatter about weather and crops had ceased. Sidney Anderson chuckled under his breath. Ezekiel Young laughed outright. When they began to hoot and catcall to someone, Daniel opened one eye and took a peek.

  Charity stood in the street with one hand resting on her hip, scolding a big red dog with the other. The hound cowered beneath her wagging finger and rolled over, his long ears splayed and his legs tucked submissively. The second Charity turned, he was up chasing after her skirts. The men beside Daniel roared, pointing at the girl while slapping their legs and clutching their sides.

  Daniel grinned, too, when Charity whirled on the hound again, shouting and stamping her feet. The dog ran a short distance away and sat down to watch, as if waiting for her next move. Charity cast a few more words of warning in his direction, punctuated by pointed finger jabs, before stalking away.

  The persistent creature perked his ears at her departing back. He squirmed to his feet then paused, took a few steps, and froze. He stayed put until Charity passed Rogers & Grossman’s Dry Goods Store, but as soon as she disappeared around the corner, he shot to his feet and loped after her.

  Jack Mayhew pulled a dirty handkerchief from his overalls and wiped the tears from his eyes. “By golly, I ain’t laughed that hard in years. That old dog sure knows what he wants.”

  “He sure does,” Sidney agreed. “Beats all I ever did see.”

  Ezekiel Young, the oldest of the men, squared around to offer his opinion. “I got a feeling he’ll keep tracking her, too. Ain’t nothing bound to stop him. Weren’t no give-up in that animal.”

  Daniel let Zeke’s words sink in a bit before he leaned forward, dropping the chair’s front legs with a bang. He stood up and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, his gaze fixed on the spot where Charity and the bloodhound had disappeared. “Gentlemen, a man could take a lesson from that old dog.”

  Ezekiel turned questioning eyes to Daniel. “What you ’bout to do, son?”

  Daniel didn’t bother to answer. Taking the two steps down to the street, he strode across in long, purposeful strides.

  ***

  “What do you mean I can’t have it?”

  Charity hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Giving Mama sass wouldn’t go very far in persuading her. Besides, the last thing she wanted was for Emmy to hear and find out she was there.

  Mama glared. “Don’t take that tone with me, girl. What do you mean marching up here demanding things what ain’t your’n?”

  Mother Dane appeared at the door behind Mama. “Don’t leave Charity on the stoop like a common peddler, Bert. Bring her in.”

  “I already asked her in. She ain’t having it.”

  Mother Dane reached past Mama and took Charity’s arm. “Well, sure she is. Come take a load off, honey. You look plumb tuckered. Let Mother Dane fix you some lunch. You must be starved.”

  No match for the strength in the sturdy woman’s grip, Charity was over the threshold before she could gather her wits. Heart in her throat, she cast a quick look around for any sign of the enemy.

  “Don’t bother looking,” Mother Dane said. “You’ll not be seeing her today. She won’t be leaving her room for quite a spell, I can promise you that.”

  While she spoke, she herded Charity to the parlor. “Go on now. Sit and talk with your mama. I’ll go scare us up some grub, if Emmy spared us any, that is. I guess I could always pick a bouquet of drumsticks from her pretty leftover bush.” She hooted at her own joke then headed for the kitchen door, still chuckling under her breath.

  Charity stared after her. “Leftover bush?”

  “Never you mind,” Mama said. “We got our own fat to fry.” She pointed Charity toward the divan then perched across from her in the big green chair, arms folded over her chest. “Now then. Get to telling me why you need a wedding dress in such an all-fired hurry.”

  Charity widened her eyes. “Heavens! I’m sure it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  Mama looked away. “I don’t know what to think. Whether you care or not, I’ve got a new crop of gray in my hair—with your name on every strand. You disappeared for two whole days. I had to find out secondhand that you were set on by a crazed wolf.”

  The strain in her voice squeezed Charity’s heart. “Oh, but I’m fine, see? He didn’t hurt me none. They told you that much, didn’t they?”

  Mama shrugged. “I reckon so.”

  “All right, then. None of the rest matters.”

  “It matters a heap to me.”

  Charity reached to pat her hand. “I’m sorry, Mama. I truly am.”

  Mama’s sorrowful gaze locked on her. “Just what is it you’re sorry for? That’s what I really need to know.”

  Surprised by her intensity, Charity slid to the edge of her seat. “What sort of question is that? What are you asking me?”

  The probing green eyes found hers again, and tears welled there. “I’m asking what you’ve been up to, child.”

  Stunned, Charity sank back against the cushions. “What do you think I’ve been up to?”

  Mama chewed her bottom lip and watched, saying nothing.

  “Mama? Tell me what you mean.”

  After drawing a deep breath and rolling her shoulders back, Mama squirmed forward until their knees touched. Her suspicious glare pinned Charity to the sofa. “The word I got has you flouncing about town acting pert and chipper with Mr. Pierce.”

  The last possible words Charity expected out of her mouth.

  “Pert and chipper? I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t play thick, daughter. You was seen in public snuggled up to Buddy Pierce with his hands all over you.”

  Charity felt rage. Indignation. She shot to her feet, no longer worried about Emmy or anyone else hearing. “I never did that! Who said such a vile thing?”

  Mama seemed not to hear. “How you think it made me feel to have a snake like him come telling dirty stories on you? He said you had your arms around that man right out in plain sight, in front of half the men in town.”

  “Who, Mama? Who told you that?” Charity spewed the words in white-hot fury.

  Mama shouted right back. “That dirty scum ex-feeancee of yours!”

  At first Charity couldn’t breathe. She groped in her mind for an anchor that would hold. Something to help make sense of Mama’s words. “Daniel?” she finally whispered. “Daniel said those things?”

  “Do you deny it?”

  She had to sit down ... or fall. “Yes, I deny it. You don’t believe him, do you? I thought you knew me better.”

  “I thought I did, too, seeing as how I raised you right. Two days ago I would’ve swore you’d never run out on me. Yet you did.” Mama’s voice broke, and she slumped over, hiding her face in her hands.

  Charity pushed off the couch and knelt at her feet. “I didn’t run out on you. I had to go, don’t you see?” She h
eld her, rocking back and forth. “I couldn’t stay in Emily Dane’s house after what she did. I couldn’t bear to face her.”

  Mama sat up and wiped her eyes on her dress. “I knowed it’d be hard on you to come here. It was hard on me, too.” She sniffed. “I never done it to hurt you. If it was a wrong decision, I’m sorry. I didn’t see no other way at the time.” She gave Charity an accusing glance. “We would’ve made out all right if you hadn’t gone and made everything worse by locking Emmy out of the house.”

  Charity sat back on her heels. “You know?”

  “Let’s just say I guessed before. Now I know. What’d you do it for?”

  Charity pointed toward the front of the house, her voice grim. “She was in the garden with Daniel. They were ... together. I saw them through the window.” The memory of the offense stirred righteous ire to the surface. She pointed again, as if they were still there, all of her wrath boiling from the tip of her trembling finger. “Let me tell you, those two make pert and chipper look like a spinster soiree.”

  Mama nodded. “Calm down now. I suspected as much. And Magda’s no fool either.” She pulled Charity close for an embrace. “Still, that don’t justify what you done. Vengeance belongs to the Lord, sugar. He don’t need our help in settling accounts.”

  Charity rested her head on her mama’s thin shoulder. It felt so good she wanted to cry. “You’re right. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “It weren’t like you to do such a mean-spirited thing.”

  Charity leaned back and searched her mama’s face. “You don’t believe that tommyrot Daniel said about me, do you?”

  “If you’re denying it, I don’t.” She cleared her throat. “Only he did name two other men who could back up his story. Said they seen it, too.”

  “Just two?” Charity smiled. “A minute ago half the men in Humble were witnesses.”

  Mama shrugged one shoulder. “Might as well have been. The whole town’s heard by now.”