Chasing Charity

by Marcia Gruver

  She glanced over her shoulder at the silver speck wending its way in the distance. “We missed it. Now what?”

  Jerry pivoted toward the depot. “When’s the next one?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re never on time.”

  “Forget going by rail.” Weakness strained Buddy’s voice. Or maybe desperation. “The Rabbit is slower than cold honey. We’d never make Humble by noon.”

  Jerry nodded. “Makes you wonder why folks gave it that name.”

  Emmy laughed. “Certainly not because of its speed. The oldtimers claim she used to make unscheduled stops along the tracks so passengers could shoot jackrabbits. Most believe she earned the name by how she jerks and hops.”

  Straightening his elbow, Buddy propped himself higher. “Thank you for the timely history lesson, Miss Dane.”

  She curled her top lip at him.

  “Either way the train’s out. I’m telling you, we need to hire some horses.”

  “You can barely sit upright. How would you ride clear to Humble?”

  “I’ll find a way, Jerry. I have to.”

  Nash returned and handed the bags to Emmy, all of them this time, then helped Jerry lift Buddy off the ground. “Let’s get this poor ailing man a place to sit. After that we can figure what we gon’ do.”

  They found a bench against the outer wall of the depot and lowered Buddy onto the paint-chipped slats. A more natural shade had replaced his alternating green and sickly white pallor.

  Emmy hoped it was a good sign. “Mr. Ritter, I think a bite to eat would benefit your friend greatly. Why don’t you go see what you can find for him while we try to solve this problem?”

  A grin eased the worried frown from Jerry’s face. He patted his stomach. “I could use a bite myself, ma’am. How about you?”

  At the mention of food, Emmy realized she was famished. “I wouldn’t mind it a bit.” She nodded toward Nash. “Him, too. We took no time for breakfast.”

  Jerry nodded. “I’ll fetch us all something, then.”

  Seated between them on the bench, Buddy’s glare followed Jerry and then Emmy. “Hold up. Have you two forgotten why we’re here? Charity’s clock is ticking. We don’t have time for a family picnic.”

  Emmy patted his shoulder. “Mr. Pierce, I’m anxious, too. But it won’t take long to eat, and we’ll gain strength for the journey.”

  Buddy scowled. “A journey that needs to get started.” He yanked a small pouch from his vest pocket, pulled out money, and handed it to Jerry. “Get jerky and hardtack, and any other food we can eat on the road.” He pointed at something behind them. “When you get back, you can hustle over there and get me a horse.”

  The livery stable perched directly across the tracks. The towering building with its wide facade looked different by morning light. The grounds teemed with animals and people, from the holding pens on each side of the slung-back doors to the trampled areas in front. By the look of it, the liveryman did all right by himself, and the railroad company wasn’t the only venture in town to profit from the boom.

  A wagon rumbled over the tracks beside them, the driver sharply reining his two-horse team into the muddy yard.

  Emmy gripped Buddy’s arm. “I have a better idea.”

  Buddy waved Jerry away to buy the food while his gaze remained fixed on her face. “I’m listening.”

  Emmy pointed at another passing rig. “What about one of those?”

  “You want to buy a wagon?”

  “Not buy. Hire. That way, you can rest in back until you’re feeling better.”

  Nash rubbed his dark chin and nodded at Buddy. “That may not be a bad idea, Mistah Pierce.”

  Buddy’s brow furrowed. “Good thinking. If they don’t have a rig for hire, we can book passage on one bound for Humble. I’ll pay the asking price to anyone who can get me there before noon.”

  Emmy stared down the boardwalk in the direction Jerry had gone, shading her eyes to see better. “Then it’s settled. When Mr. Ritter comes back, he can make inquiries.”

  Buddy shook his head. “I say the two of you go now. I get the feeling you’re just as capable, and there’s no time to waste.”

  Emmy searched his earnest green eyes. “But you’ll be left on your own.”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, Jerry will be back soon.” He didn’t give her time to argue but shooed her and Nash with a backward wave of his hand. “Go on now, and hurry.”

  Though reluctant to leave him alone, Emmy opened her parasol and motioned for Nash to lead the way. “You heard the man. Let’s find us a ride home.”

  Nash led her past the depot and along the boardwalk to a well-traveled crossing. Her determination faded a bit as they approached the front of the livery. Up close, they found it even busier than it appeared from the station. Wagons of every size and description boiled out of the stables and onto the rutted road, some passing far too close to suit her.

  It didn’t take long to learn there were no rigs left for hire. Together they walked the grounds, asking questions and checking wagons. The majority of travelers headed for Humble seemed more than willing to help, but their conveyances were too full to accommodate a traveling band sitting upright, much less a man the size of Buddy lying flat of his back.

  Fighting the urge to wring her hands, she looked up at Nash. “What do we do now?”

  Nash drew a deep breath that lifted and filled his broad chest. “We don’t give up, that’s what we do.” He cut his eyes down at her. “Don’t fret now. We’ll find something.”

  “You saw for yourself. Not one of these people has room for us.” Emmy bit back tears and tried to still the tremor in her voice. “It can’t be God’s will for Charity to spend her life with someone like Daniel. Why are we having such a hard time trying to save her?”

  Nash’s roaming gaze came to rest on her face. “Whoa, now.” His rumbling voice was a gentle rebuke. “Is that what we doing here? Saving Miss Charity? If so, you can count me out. I ain’t fit to save myself, much less Miss Charity. Child, that be God’s business.”

  Something behind her caught and held his attention. A smile lit his eyes. “And the Almighty might jus’ have a little trick up His sleeve.”

  She followed his pointing finger in time to see a stocky young man toss a faded satchel into the bed of an otherwise empty wagon. He walked to the rear and closed the tailgate, then hurried around to help a tall, gray-haired woman onto the seat.

  Emmy let out her breath in a rush and clutched his shirt. “What if they’re not going to Humble?”

  “Ain’t but one way to find out.”

  “You’re right. Let’s go ask them.”

  She started forward, but Nash caught hold of her arm. “Where you going?”

  “To negotiate a ride, of course.”

  “No, you ain’t. You staying over here. Them’s my people, Miss Emmy. We stand a much better chance if you let me do the talking.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, missy, it ain’t. You jus’ stay put this time. I’ll be back directly.”

  In a casual, unhurried stride, Nash approached the wagon with his hat in his hands. The kind-faced woman smiled and nodded a greeting. The young man beamed and quickly extended his hand. Nash talked with low tones and quick gestures, lifting his chin toward the wagon and jabbing his finger back toward her. Emmy saw the man’s wide grin fade just before he cast a frown her way. Nash stayed a few seconds more then turned and hurried across the yard.

  “What’d they say?” Eager to know, she called out the question while Nash was yet halfway back.

  He waited to answer until he reached her side. “Them be good folks, Miss Emmy. They headed for Humble, all right, and the boy, he say we can ride. Don’t want no money for it neither. Only...”

  Her excitement had soared higher with every word until the last. Something in the way he said it foretold bad news. “Only what? Speak up, Nash.”

  He cleared his throat and looked away. “He say he ai
n’t about to put his old mama in the back of that wagon, not for you or nobody else. Not for no amount of money.”

  Emmy looked across to where the two strangers huddled close together. It appeared the woman gently scolded. The boy answered with a firm shake of his head before he jumped from the seat and walked away.

  Emmy blinked up at Nash. “Of course he won’t put her in back. Why, I don’t blame him. Tell him we accept his terms, only we will indeed pay them for their trouble. Mr. Pierce said so.”

  “But, Miss Emmy...”

  “Go ahead, tell them.”

  “Well, but...”

  “What now?”

  He pointed behind him. “That there rig ain’t but a one-seater, which puts you riding in back.” He lifted both dark brows. “With all us men.”

  Emmy saw his point. She had to swallow before she could answer but tried hard to sound nonchalant. “So?”

  “So it won’t look proper. ’Sides that, it’s a long, bumpy ride, and that bed ain’t made for comfort. Yo’ mama gon’ skin me good if’n I haul you through Humble throwed off in the bottom of a wagon like a sack of potatoes.” He took a quick look over his shoulder and leaned closer. “Worse yet, whatever they been hauling in that thing be long past burying.”

  Emmy tried not to pause, tried not to ask. “Are you saying there’s a bad smell?”

  Nash shook his curly head. “You gon’ wish it jus’ bad. Truth is, that smell done took a turn toward evil.” His expression was guarded, watchful.

  She made up her mind. “It doesn’t matter. What’s a little odor to contend with for Charity’s sake? You tell them yes. I’ll let Buddy and Jerry know we have our ride.”

  Emmy turned to go. Nash reached to stay her, and she looked back at him with questioning eyes. The way he squinted down at her made her insides pitch. She glanced away. “What is it, Nash? Why are you peering a hole through me?”

  “I’m wondering what done changed you, that’s all.”

  She forced a laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m no different.”

  His hand on her elbow held her fast, but his voice was kind. “Yes’m, you different. Nothing I can point a finger to, but I see change all over you.”

  “Don’t talk foolish.”

  “Ain’t nothing foolish. Don’t forget I’ve known you quite a spell. I watched you learn to toddle. In all this time, I ain’t never seen you cross the road to help nobody, much less be willing to wallow in stink. Don’t tell me you ain’t different.”

  She met his stare, trying to maintain a steady gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He laughed and wagged his head. “You can’t fool old Nash that easy. You know jus’ what I’m talking about. Them big blue eyes telling on you.”

  Emmy flinched and could’ve pinched herself for it. She pulled free and stalked away. “I know this—we don’t have time to discuss it. Get on over there and tell those folks to wait for us. Inform them we’ll be back with two more passengers. Then hightail it back to the depot so you can help with Mr. Pierce.”

  Five minutes later, Jerry Ritter, the young stranger, and Nash—mostly Nash—had Buddy loaded into the bed of the wagon. They propped him against the dilapidated tailgate of the old freighter, the wood so battered by time and pocked by beetles that Emmy feared he’d wind up riddled with splinters.

  It seemed a fitting backdrop for a man so broken and battered himself. Too weak to sit up, Buddy sprawled over most of the rear, crowding Jerry into the far corner. Emmy perched at Buddy’s feet on a cushion of feed sacks Nash had gathered for her, and Nash sat by her side.

  Buddy insisted he felt some better, yet his green pallor had returned. Emmy wondered if she ought not secure a bucket for him, but thought better of it when she considered their traveling companions. She hadn’t missed the look that passed between them when they learned Buddy was ill. In lieu of offering him a bucket in case his stomach resisted the jerky he had eaten, Emmy sent up a quick prayer that Buddy wouldn’t need it, then cringed and prayed harder when she remembered Nash had predicted a long, bumpy ride.

  CHAPTER 29

  The odor Nash warned of rose like a specter from the wagon bed, becoming unbearable when the wind died down. Emmy began to lose faith in her prayer, convinced even divine intervention couldn’t lessen the effect of that powerful stench on a sour stomach.

  She leaned toward Buddy and stared. “Are you all right, Mr. Pierce?” Though she whispered, the woman riding up front glanced back with a troubled expression.

  Buddy nodded grimly without opening his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  The tremor in his voice belied his confident answer. Emmy settled down and prepared for a difficult ride.

  Nash had introduced the young man as Benjamin, the woman as Miss Lucille. They seemed to be decent people, especially the mother, though her son rode stiffly on the seat and said little. Emmy wondered if he felt uncomfortable about his decision to put her in the rear.

  While the right thing to do for Miss Lucille’s sake, it took courage on Benjamin’s part, especially when the locals stopped to glare as they made their way down the street. Emmy made a point to smile and wave as she passed. It served to take the edge off their collective indignation, but only a bit, and no one in the wagon relaxed until they were well out of town.

  Emmy heard Miss Lucille let go of a deep sigh. Nash, too, exhaled loudly and grinned, and Jerry’s good-natured smile returned.

  Nash sat up straighter and broke the silence. “Whoo-ee! We going home, and I sure is glad. I seen the big city now and don’t care much for it. Ain’t no fit way to live, all that coming and going and everybody a stranger. I expect old Nash gon’ stay put from now on.”

  He tilted his chin and looked up at Benjamin. “Son, you folks from around here?”

  “No, suh,” Benjamin answered without looking back.

  Miss Lucille turned in the seat, her lovely face set in a serene smile. “We come to Houston by way of Louisiana, Mr. Nash. After Benjamin’s papa, God rest him, went to be with the Lord.”

  Nash lifted his battered hat. “Sure sorry, ma’am.”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “He’s in a better place now, but thank you kindly. So anyways, when Benjamin heard them oil companies was hiring folks in Texas, he figured they’d be plenty of work for a man with a strong back.” She patted her son’s shoulder. “My Benny here is one of the strongest men around.”

  Emmy considered the empty wagon bed. “Where are your belongings, Miss Lucille?”

  Nash cleared his throat and pressed his elbow against Emmy’s ribs.

  Miss Lucille gave him a tender glance. “That’s all right, Mr. Nash. I don’t mind.”

  When her dark eyes returned to Emmy, humiliation swam in their brown depths. Emmy felt like she’d been caught in the woman’s underwear drawer. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Don’t fret, child. You meant no harm. The truth is, we own the clothes on our backs, a few things in that bag under the seat, and little else. Took selling everything we had to buy us this wagon. Benny got a good deal on it, though, down at the stockyards.”

  Emmy and Nash exchanged knowing looks. Miss Lucille smiled and pulled a square of cloth from her waistband, handing it back to Emmy. “Here, baby. Hold this against your nose; it’ll help some. It’s what I do when there ain’t no breeze to take the edge off.” She laughed. “You wouldn’t think so, but you get used to it after a while.”

  Emmy reached for the cloth, handing it down to Buddy instead. “Thank you, ma’am, but if you don’t mind, I think he needs it more.”

  Buddy took the tattered fabric from Emmy’s hand then nodded weakly toward the flask strapped to Nash’s side. “You think I could have a sip of that water?”

  Nash bent to hand it over. “Why sure, Mistah Pierce. Help yourself.”

  Buddy pushed himself to a sitting position. He drank deeply, wiping his mouth with the cloth when he was done. Passing the flask to Nash, he took in his surroundings as if aware of them
for the first time. “What time you reckon it is?”

  Nash dipped his head at the sun, still low in the sky. “It’s early yet.”

  Buddy nodded. “I think we’ll make it in plenty of time, don’t you?”

  “Don’t know about plenty, but yes, suh, we gon’ make it.”

  Buddy took one more look around, then pressed the rag to his face and hunkered down. The motion of the wagon soon lulled him to sleep. Whether from the cloth, the water, or fervent prayers on his behalf, Buddy did look some better. The color had returned to his face, and he looked peaceful at rest. Beside him Jerry dozed sitting upright, while his head lolled about in a comical fashion.

  Emmy felt herself drifting off as well, until Miss Lucille began to hum a haunting melody. Her lovely warble didn’t startle Emmy awake but rather the familiar hymn. She’d heard it many times, and not just at Sunday service. Aunt Bert, Charity, even Mama sang it often, though never with the depth of emotion she heard in Miss Lucille’s rich voice.

  Nash closed his eyes, nodding slowly up and down, and then leaned his head against the seat and took up the words.

  “‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.’”

  His deep baritone rumbled in Emmy’s chest, sending a chill through her body and raising the hairs at the nape of her neck. Miss Lucille harmonized with Nash in a high, clear voice, and even Benjamin joined in. Their blended voices became an angel chorus as their song swelled about her.

  “‘I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.’”

  Emmy had never paid any mind to the lyrics before, despite the many times she’d heard them. She closed her eyes and listened, attuned to them for the first time. They rolled over her like the warm, salty surf on a Galveston beach, each wave heavy with import just for her, each word filled with meaning, like a precious gift discovered. They filled her with peace and an unfamiliar emotion that lifted and thrilled her in ways her trysts with Daniel never had. She raised her face to the sun, surrendering the whole of her being to the overwhelming feeling, allowing it to carry her away.