Chasing Charity

by Marcia Gruver

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. You sold a dress?”

  “My wedding dress. Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said?”

  “I’m trying, sweetheart.” The unexpected endearment slipped from his mouth, as natural as drawing a breath. Still, he blushed when he realized what he’d said.

  So did Charity.

  He tried again. “Let me see if I have this right. You sold your wedding dress to Elsa Pike, but your mama didn’t approve so you’re on your way to fix it.”

  She did a jaunty point with her finger. “Exactly.”

  He grinned. “See, I was listening. What if Elsa won’t give it up?”

  “We never got that far. I still have the dress, or rather Mama does. She’s buried her talons and refuses to part with it. So I have to return Mrs. Pike’s money and somehow...” She sighed. “Somehow break the news to Amy Jane.”

  Grateful she could so easily explain the money, Buddy felt the tension ease from his shoulders. “Is that all?”

  Charity stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘Is that all?’”

  “I mean I don’t see what’s so scandalous about selling a frock.”

  She looked at him as if toadstools had sprouted from his ears. “Not just any frock, Buddy. My wedding gown. The one I wore for the hour it took to ruin my good name in this town.”

  He shot forward, startling Red, and wagged his finger. “Now you see? There’s your problem. If you ask me, you set too much stock by what folks around here think. About you and your mama.” He slouched back and pushed his hat off his forehead. “I thought you were about to bare your soul again, maybe tell a story as lively as your last confession. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.”

  Charity’s lips parted; then she swelled like a colicky horse. “Well, forgive me for letting you down. Hopefully my next calamity will provide you with more entertainment.” She turned a frosty shoulder in his direction. “Perhaps the severity of my problem escapes you. When I hand this money over to Mrs. Pike, it means I won’t be eating supper tonight.”

  Buddy bristled. “You know full well I’m not about to see you miss a meal. It’s only when you’re headstrong that you wind up with a hollow belly, not to mention a heap of trouble.” He bent to give her the eye. “Now ain’t that so?”

  Charity stood. “I won’t bother to answer such a ridiculous question.” She leveled a withering glare at his outstretched legs. “If you’ll be so kind as to move aside, I’ll be going now.”

  Buddy lifted one pointy-toed boot to her crate, totally blocking the way. “No, ma’am, I won’t excuse you. Not until you promise I can take you to the Pikes’ in my rig.”

  The startled look in her bright eyes became a hooded challenge. “I’ve asked you kindly to remove your feet.”

  He took off his hat and fiddled with the band. “I’ll be happy to. As soon as you agree.”

  With a swish of her skirts, Charity pivoted to face the rickety stack behind them. Chin held high, she seemed to weigh the danger of squeezing through the tight space. Obviously finding it too risky, she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest, so stiff she appeared to grow six inches in stature. “Why, Mr. Pierce, did I mistake you for a gentleman?”

  He tucked his hat back on his head then pushed it up to see her face. “That’s an impressive show of indignation from the same lady who bamboozled me a couple nights back. I consider this an act of justifiable recompense.”

  “Bamboozled? Why, I never—”

  “You don’t recall the matter involving me in a monkey-suit and you with a certain room key?”

  Charity’s scandalized expression disappeared, and her defiant chin lowered to her chest. She laced her hands behind her back and traced circles in the dirt with her shoe. “I didn’t bamboozle you, Buddy. I wouldn’t.” She bit her bottom lip, but a tiny smile fluttered at the corners. “Besides, I believe the word you used then was ‘bushwhacked.’” The smile widened into a grin. “And I’ve since decided your estimation of my actions was entirely too harsh.”

  The girl enchanted him. Before he could stop himself, he was on his feet with his arms around her, laughing like a man with no sense. He knew he didn’t imagine it when she returned the enthusiasm of his embrace. When he could, he held her away from him and gazed at her beaming face. “Pardon my zeal, Miss Bloom, but has anyone ever told you how endearing you are?”

  She affected a coy look. “Oh yes. Every day.”

  “I’d tell you every day if I could.” Heat warmed his face, matched by a rosy flush on her cheeks. With her eyes cast down, all he saw were dark, sweeping lashes curled up at the ends. He longed to kiss each one but knew he’d gone too far already.

  She lifted her gaze. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I suppose you can give me a ride. If you still have the time...”

  Buddy stepped aside. “After you, ma’am.” He sighed. “That is, if you can hurdle that overgrown hound.”

  Charity smiled. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to jump him, though I’d rather not.” She nudged the dog with her toe. “Get up, Red.”

  He reluctantly stirred then followed them sleepy-eyed to the rig.

  Buddy handed Charity aboard then scuttled back to pick up her assorted loot before swinging up onto the driver’s side. One brow raised, he handed the money and tokens to Charity. Without a word, she snatched them then opened her one good pocket and let them tumble inside.

  They rode quietly at first. Charity, whether staring off in the distance or watching Red trot alongside, seemed lost in thought.

  Probably rehearsing her speech to Mrs. Pike.

  Buddy was busy rehearsing a speech of his own. He noisily cleared his throat.

  As he’d hoped, Charity’s head swung around. “You have something you wish to say to me, Buddy?”

  “I don’t want to intrude on your musings.”

  She made a face. “Believe me, they bear intrusion.”

  “I just wanted you to know, although your situation appears bleak at the moment, I believe things will work out in the end.”

  A slight frown creased her forehead. “On what do you base such confidence?”

  He grinned. “The Bible does say, ‘Charity never faileth.’”

  She didn’t actually return his smile, but the slight deepening of her dimples gave her away. “I know you’re probably right. It’s just that things seem so hopeless.”

  “Hopeless? I haven’t turned you out in the street yet, have I?”

  She patted his hand. “That’s because you’re a wonderful man. Except I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue what you’ve been doing. It’s outlandish.”

  “I really don’t mind.” How could he admit that not only didn’t he mind taking care of her, but he wanted to? How could he tell her that tending her needs just felt right somehow?

  “I’m sorry—it’s out of the question. If I can’t pay my own way, I’ll be forced to check out of the hotel in the morning.”

  Surprised, he spun on the seat. “And go where? To the Danes’?” “Never!”

  “Then where, I’d like to know?”

  The dejected slump of her shoulders told him she couldn’t answer his question.

  They continued the ride in silence. Buddy’s mind roamed in circles until he had crossed off every possibility and exhausted his imagination. He turned to prayer, where he should’ve started in the first place.

  As they rattled down the road leading to the Pikes’ farm, the solution darted up and hit him squarely between the eyes. He reined up and faced her on the seat. “I know what we can do.”

  Her eyes brightened. “There’s a remedy to this predicament?”

  “Indeed there is. It’s simple really. The oil company owes your mama a fair sum for the lease of your house, isn’t that so?”

  She nodded, but the mention of the oil company dampened the expectant light in her eyes.

  “Just listen now. If Bertha agrees, I believe I can arrange to charge off
whatever money I’ve spent on you against her check. They’ll deduct my portion and hold it for me. When she gets the balance, she can take over from there. Then you won’t be taking anything from me.”

  Charity clasped her hands. “Oh, Buddy. Will the check be enough for all that?”

  He nodded. “With money left over to hold you through the month. They’re fairly free with their purse.”

  She sneered. “They can afford to be, can’t they?”

  Buddy picked up her hands. “Listen, I’ll be the first to admit that drilling oil—like anything else involving fast money—attracts a bad bunch of men. Sure, there are depraved, greedy souls who take advantage of good folks to make a dollar, but we’re not all bad.”

  She cringed and pulled one hand free to cover her mouth. “Oh, Buddy, I didn’t mean ... that is ... well, you’re not, of course.”

  “Not just me, Charity. If you took the time to get to know a few more of us, you’d find that the majority of men in the oil business are decent, hardworking, and honest.” He gave her other hand a firm squeeze. “I intend to hang around long enough to prove that to you. I’ll have you trusting oilmen again if it’s the last thing I do.”

  She offered a brave smile and turned away, but not before he saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

  CHAPTER 16

  After more than two months, waking up at the Lone Star Hotel still felt peculiar even after Mama moved in. Rather, especially after Mama moved in. The feisty rascal refused to share the room until she could pay her own way, but the minute she got the first oil company check, she turned up at Charity’s door with a bag of clothes and a stubborn mind-set. “Ain’t no daughter of mine living in a hotel by herself as long as I can help it,” she’d insisted. “Thaddeus Bloom would spin in his grave if he knew.”

  Living with her in their spacious, high-ceilinged home had been challenge enough. Sharing a space no bigger than Rebel’s stall proved downright trying. Mama alternated between talking nonstop when awake and snoring down the rafters while she slept, so peace and rest became scarce in Charity’s life. For that reason, when an uncommon stillness settled over the room, she rolled over in bed to look around.

  Her rowdy companion was gone, though a sleepy glance at the window told Charity the sun had barely risen. She yawned and stretched then swung her feet to the cold floor. Usually by the end of March the weather was warm, but a recent cool snap had penetrated the smooth boards, turning them to ice beneath her toes.

  At home she kept a pair of Papa’s thick woolen socks in a dresser drawer for chilly mornings, but only heaven knew where they were now. Wearing them never failed to warm her heart right along with her feet, so she considered the lack of them one more casualty in a string of losses. She shuddered, picturing them mud-soaked and stretched over the big, smelly feet of a roughneck.

  Not yet committed to rising, Charity reached behind her and pulled the warm blanket around her shoulders. She sighed, aware she’d awakened with the same confused feelings she’d taken to bed. Elation and despair, a miserable mix, fought for vantage in the pit of her stomach.

  Last night, from out of nowhere, Mama announced they were going home. “Those men have searched for the bottom of that hole for nine weeks now,” she’d said. “If they ain’t found it yet, I expect they ain’t likely to. We’ll head out there first thing in the morning and tell them to clear out.”

  The unexpected words had pierced Charity’s heart, unleashing a flood of forgiveness, relief, and joy. They were going home, to the house where she’d been born, to the only life she’d known before the specter of oil had curled sticky black fingers around Humble.

  There was only one problem. The marauding invader employed a most agreeable representative in the person of Buddy Pierce.

  During her stay at the hotel, Buddy had made a point to see Charity every day. Most evenings he made it back to town in time to clean up and take supper with her and Mama. If his work at the house detained him past their meal, he’d find some reason to knock on their door. For propriety’s sake, he and Charity would stand in the hallway and whisper or sit in a secluded corner of the lobby and talk until bedtime. Mama noticed his attention and delighted in teasing her.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, Mama jerked open the door and swept in like a gusty wind. “Get up, little gal, and shake that floor,” she crowed. “Your old mama’s running circles around you already.” She came and perched on the side of the bed. “I’ve done been down to the livery and back. Hired us a rig for the trip out to the house. Ain’t nothing fancy, but it’ll get us there. The old man was hitching it up when I left. Said he’d deliver it to the hotel himself.” She gave Charity a sharp slap on the leg. “What do you think about that?”

  Her boisterous mood at the early hour rattled Charity’s nerves.

  She winced but offered a sleepy smile. “Morning, Mama,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Gracious, but you’re lively. How long have you been up?”

  “Long enough to see your beau and his men leave for work before the cock ever crowed. He looked about as spry as you do. You two might want to consider trading some of that late-night talking for sleeping.”

  The wound-up little woman crossed to the window and peered down to the street. “Wahoo! Come on, gal. The wagon’s sitting out front right now.” She spun around laughing. “Took me a spell to convince that old possum to let me take it, but when he saw the color of my money, he couldn’t find his pocket quick enough.”

  She came back and stood over the bed, brandishing a bony finger. “And that there’s what I’ve been saying all along. Money makes a difference in people’s lives, even oil company money.”

  Unwilling to wade those precarious waters, Charity bit her lip and nodded.

  Oblivious, Mama continued, “Shame our cash is about to run out just when I’m getting used to having it.” She heaved a sigh. “Even more of a shame that boy couldn’t make good on his promise. Now we’ll never know what it’s like to make ends meet without stretching the life out of a dollar.”

  Charity’s heart lurched. Buddy’s question about easing Mama’s burden came to mind. She hadn’t yet lifted a finger in that direction, and in fact had only created a heavier load. Not to mention the fact that her disastrous wedding had put a terrible strain on Mama’s purse ... with no well-heeled son-in-law to show for her trouble. “I’ll pitch in soon. I promise. I hear Elsa’s looking for help around the house after Amy Jane marries. If she’ll have me, after all the hullabaloo, I can work for her.”

  Mama scrunched up her face. “I reckon I’d rather see you slave after Emmy the rest of your life than work for Elsa Pike.” She sat beside Charity on the bed and gripped her shoulders. “We’ll deal with all that later. Right now, the only thing holding us here is you, so don’t just sit there under them covers. Hurry and dress so we can get packed and eat a bite before we head home.”

  “Does Buddy know?”

  “What? That we’re coming? I started to tell him our plans this morning, but I don’t need him trying to talk me out of what I know is right. I reckon the sight of us on the porch with our belongings should show him we mean business.”

  Pulling her chilly feet beneath her, Charity sat cross-legged in the bed. “But where will they go? The men, I mean.”

  “That ain’t our concern now. We had a deal. Two months and no more. Their time is up.”

  Charity pictured the house and shuddered. She remembered the mud, tracked so thick on the porch she couldn’t see the boards, with heavy-footed men traipsing in and out all the time. The kitchen had to be fly-spotted from leaving the screen tied back. No telling in what condition they’d find their beds. “Mama, the whole place is a in a muddle. How will we ever set it right again?”

  Mama waved her hand. “Never mind about that. We’ll just wrestle it through to the end.”

  Charity groaned and scratched her nose with the blanket. “That’s fine for you to say. You haven’t seen it.”

  “Don’t worry, honey.
The two of us will find a way. We always have, ain’t we?” She cocked her head and stared dreamily. “Almost hate to leave here though. I think I might miss seeing that Lee feller around. He sure is nice. Makes me wish I was ten years younger.”

  “So it’s Lee now, is it?”

  Mama bristled, her face crimson. “Don’t look so surprised. I ain’t buried yet.”

  “I’m only surprised by what you said. You’re not ten years older than Mr. Allen. A couple of years, at most.”

  Mama gazed at her, weighing her words. “Just two? You reckon so?”

  Beaming, Charity swung her feet to the floor. “So you are sweet on him.”

  Dimples deeper than her own creased Mama’s cheeks. “Hush up. We got no time for silly talk. Dress yourself, daughter, unless you’ve acquired Emmy’s fondness for parading outside in your nightdress.”

  Charity laughed and pushed off the bed. Standing in front of the tall pine wardrobe, she picked through her clothes, studying them one by one. Besides her three old dresses and the bridal gown pushed to the back, two brand-new frocks hung there, one green and one blue. Not handmade like most things she owned but ordered straight from the catalog. Another good thing to come out of the oil company money, she grudgingly had to admit.

  She held them up. “Can I wear one of these?”

  Mama stood by the bed, shoving her clothes into a bag, not bothering to notice whether they were clean or dirty. She glanced back. “Out to that filthy place? Whatever for?”

  “I want to, that’s all. I’ll change out of it before we start to clean.” She tilted her head and pouted her lips. “Please?”

  Mama gave her a knowing look. “Go on, then. Look nice for Buddy. But you’d better be careful. There won’t be no more big checks to buy dresses once we take the house back.”

  Charity twirled and squealed. “Thank you, Mama! I promise not to muss it.” She chose between the two outfits and returned the other one to its peg. Reaching to the back, she ran her fingers down the sequined bodice of the wedding gown. “Do you suppose Mrs. Pike and Amy Jane will ever forgive me for going back on our deal?”