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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Sam and Meg stared at her with puppy dog eyes, leaving her feeling more foolish than the misbegotten excitement over striking it rich. She watched Gabriel disappear around the mound that was home. She needed a plan, and while she worked on one in her mind, she’d work on improving their living conditions. If not for herself, then for the children. No one should live on dirt floors with nothing over their heads but grass. Even back home, she’d had the luxury of a stone floor.

  She glanced to the area north of the house where Gabriel had ropes strung, signifying the placement of rooms in the new place he wanted to build. A place that required time, money, and a temporary wife. All because of a bet!

  Charity jammed the pointed end of the stick in the ground, burying a splinter in the palm of her hand. She hissed against the pain and stabbed the pole in the ground again. If no gold resided in the creek, then it lay somewhere else. Her gaze drifted across the plain. Were there caves hidden among the hills? Caves with veins of riches beyond her wildest dream?

  She eyed Sam. Boys roamed the land, right? “Sam, do you know of any caves around here? Ones that run deep?”

  He dropped seeds into a hole. “Sure I do, but Pa won’t let me play in them. He says they’re too dangerous.”

  “As I’m sure they are.” What Charity needed was an excuse to explore one of these dangerous caves. Without the children, of course. She couldn’t live with herself if something happened to one of them because of her negligence, and she was their mother, for now. Mothers did not put their children in danger.

  A fine layer of grit covered her skin by the time they finished planting. Charity sighed and thought of the laundry she’d left beside the creek. With the children’s help, she should be able to lug the tub back and hang the clothes to dry. Bread still waited to be made. Oh. Didn’t bread have to rise? She slapped her forehead. She should’ve started that first thing in the morning. That’s what she got for being a lazy goose and sleeping in. Charity O’Connell was never lazy. At least not until she got married and lost all ability to plan and schedule her day.

  *

  Gabe saddled Rogue, his horse, and headed toward the Stoltz farm. He smiled. Gold in the creek. Silly woman. If nothing else, his new bride provided entertainment. He had to admit she was pleasant to look at, too, especially with that fiery hair spilling over her shoulders after her romp in the creek. Her soft snores from the other side of the hung blanket last night kept him from sleep, serving as a reminder that a desirable woman, his wife, at that, lay on the other side.

  He wasn’t lost to the fact that Meg didn’t play like his sisters did when they were little. She had no dolls or play dishes. No friends her age. Best Gabe could figure, if Charity taught his daughter to be a little girl, if even for a short while, she’d be worth the time he spent teaching her to be a proper Montana wife. For another man.

  Shoulders slumping, he spurred Rogue into a trot. After only one day, Gabe knew the homestead would be a lonely place without Charity’s sparkle. He was a fool to broach the subject of a yearlong marriage. Neither of them had other prospects waiting and Charity had jumped at the offer of wedding him fast enough. In addition, she didn’t seem thrilled about the marriage in name only. Gabe groaned. Yep, he was a darn fool.

  The Stoltz farm was a modest place with a sod house, a barn, a handful of cattle, and a large garden. Pretty much like Gabe’s own place. Except the Stoltz’es hadn’t made a stupid gamble with a greedy man that he’d have a house built by a certain time or forfeit his land. They were content with their modest sod house that stayed cool in the summer and warm in the freezing winter.

  “Hello, the house!” Gabe reined Rogue to a stop and dismounted, tossing the reins over a fence railing surrounded by grass for the horse to munch on.

  “Mr. Williams.” A portly Mrs. Stoltz smiled as she stepped out the door. “Mr. Stoltz is out in the west pasture. What brings you to our humble home?”

  “I’m here to see you.” Gabe removed his hat. “I got hitched to a woman who doesn’t appear to know a thing about living out here. She can’t cook, sew, or any of the other things a woman ought to know.”

  “And you want me to teach her.” Mrs. Stoltz nodded. “Send her over first thing in the morning. Come on in, and enjoy some corn pone and milk.”

  “Much obliged.” Gabe followed her into the dim recesses of a home filled with womanly touches. A doily decorated the center of the scarred wood table. Flowers graced the one windowsill beneath a lacy curtain, and a colorful quilt lay folded at the foot of a double wide bed.

  “I’m figuring she’ll have to stay a few days.” Mrs. Stoltz reached on a shelf and pulled down a plate and a tin mug. “I’ve some recipes I can share, and we’ll spend at least a day on cooking, another on sewing, and another on something fun like crochet or knitting. I can even get her started on a quilt. I have lots of extra squares to piece together.” She clapped her hands. “It will be such fun to spend time with another woman.”

  “What about your husband?” He didn’t want to be the means of the other man suffering.

  “He can manage for a few days without my undivided attention.” She cut a wedge of corn pone and set it on the plate, before pouring the mug full of milk.

  Gabe took a seat at the table. “She doesn’t know anything.”

  “Why did you marry her then?” Mrs. Stoltz sat across from him. “Of course, you wouldn’t be the first to marry because of a shapely body and a comely face.”

  He took a deep breath, and shoved his shame to the deepest part of him. “To save my farm from a man like Amos Jenkins.” Her eyes widened as he filled her in on the biggest mistake of his life.

  She shook her head when he finished. “I thought you were a wise man, Gabriel Williams.”

  “Not very, obviously.” He bit into the corn pone, which stuck in his throat like a fat man squeezing through a skinny door.

  “Does your bride know of this bet? What’s her name?”

  He nodded. “Charity O’Connell. We have a marriage in name only. Don’t even sleep in the same bed.”

  “You don’t deserve my corn pone.” She yanked the plate away from him. “I’ve met little Miss Charity a while back at the mercantile. She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. Few women do.” She narrowed her eyes. “Her pa gambled away every cent they had, or so folks say, forcing that little girl to make her way washing the clothes of dirty miners. For shame, Mr. Williams. Your Maggie would never have stood for such behavior.”

  “Maggie was submissive enough to do as she was told.” He reached for the plate.

  Mrs. Stoltz held it out of his reach. “No disrespect for the dead, but Maggie had the personality of a bug, and you took advantage of her sweet nature plenty of times.” She leaned back and placed the plate beside the wash sink, then straightened and crossed her arms. “Besides, she was born in Montana. Miss Charity wasn’t. I hope you haven’t been too heavy-handed with the girl.”

  Gabe chuckled. “She doesn’t stand for it. Has the temper of a badger.”

  Mrs. Stoltz laughed. “I’m sure she does. How are you going to make this right? You need to apologize and let her make a decision on whether to stay. You need to do the Christian thing, Gabriel. Marriage is until death do you part. Not until it’s consummated, or at least the vows ought to mean something.”

  “I don’t know.” What if Charity chose to leave immediately if given the chance? Gabe would lose everything. Without her taking over the regular chores and keeping track of the younguns, he’d never finish building on time.

  His heart sank. He needed to do the right thing, ranch or not. Charity was a person, with feelings and a spirit. Gabe didn’t want to be the one to break her with his bad choices. He’d spend some time dwelling on what to do. “We’ll see what happens in a year. Can I have the plate back, please?”

  *

  By the time Charity finished hanging clothes, the sun hovered right above the mountains, casting the land in deep purple shadow. She glanced at the child
ren’s disappointed faces. “How about if we go on a treasure hunt?”

  “You still looking for gold?” Sam’s head jerked up. “I’d like some of that.”

  “No, I’m looking for things to make this house a home.” Charity started for the barn. “You coming with me?”

  “What are you going to find in the barn?” Sam trotted to her side, leaving Meg to trail behind.

  “Surely your ma had some things, didn’t she?”

  “Yep, but Pa said he didn’t want to have to care for them until he got the other house built. They’re in the loft, and in her trunk in the house.” Sam dashed ahead. “Ma’s ma brought them over from Ireland.”

  Excitement bubbled up in Charity at the thought of things from her birth place. She didn’t mind spreading around a few objects that once belonged to someone else. Meg should have her mother’s things. She’d deal with Gabriel’s wrath when the time came.

  Sam scrabbled up the ladder to the loft. Straw rained down, catching in Charity and Meg’s hair. “There’s a mirror, a bureau, and some fancy dishes. Do you want them all?”

  “Anything to place on the dirt floor?” They wouldn’t be able to move furniture without Gabriel’s help, and Charity wasn’t sure they’d get that. Not if he stored the items in the loft to keep them out of sight.

  “There’s a rug . . . and kittens!”

  “Send down the rug. Sam?” When the boy didn’t respond, Charity hitched her skirt and climbed the ladder.

  Sam knelt beside a bed of straw. Three kittens looked up with wide eyes, and tried to scurry away when Charity appeared.

  Charity leaped for a calico, and stirred up a cloud of dust. She sneezed. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty wee thing. We could use a house cat.” And Meg would love something cuddly to dress up in doll clothes and to love on.

  Sam shook his head. “Pa won’t allow an animal in the house, Ma. He’s said it at least a hundred times. The house is too small. Besides, there’s more than one here.”

  “Not for a bitty thing like a kitten. We’ll have to talk him into it won’t we? We can keep one and the other two can be barn cats.” Charity nuzzled the ball of fur and sneezed again. “We’ll call you Patches.”

  “Ma?” Meg’s voice shrieked, raising the hair on Charity’s arms. “Ma!”

  Charity thrust the kitten into Sam’s arms and scurried from the loft as fast as she could in a dress. Her feet tangled, and she lost her footing, sure she’d drop like a sack of potatoes to the hard ground. She kicked her legs, stirring up more dust, until she found the next rung of the ladder and wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve.

  Meg stood like a post, staring at the barn door. Charity rushed to her side. “What is it?”

  Meg pointed. A snake coiled in the door’s shadow. Charity’s skin prickled. She had no experience with snakes, since Ireland had none. Were all snakes poisonous? She’d have to assume they were. Off with the serpent’s head. That would be best. She whipped back and forth in search of something. There. She thrust Meg behind her, then grabbed a nearby hoe.

  “Don’t move, sweetie. I’ll take care of it.” Her heart threatened to burst free of its cage. Lord, have mercy! Charity raised the hoe and brought it down with all the force she had in her. The impact vibrated up her arms. The snake’s head fell free, leaving its sinewy body to writhe in torment.

  “Charity?” Gabe called from outside.

  “In the barn. Be careful, there’s—”

  “Oh.” Gabe stepped into the doorway. He glanced down. The color faded from his face. Before Charity could take a step toward him, he keeled over like a felled tree.

  He’d died and left her a widow the second day of matrimony. Charity sagged to the ground in a heap of faded calico and covered her face with her hands. How could God be so cruel?

  “Pa’s afraid of snakes.” Sam kicked the four-foot reptile away and knelt by his father’s body. “He’s not afraid of much, but always faints straight away when he sees a snake.”

  “He’s not dead?” Charity crawled to Gabe’s side. “Just fainted?”

  “Yep. Dead away.”

  She bit her lip to prevent a giggle from escaping. Gabriel Williams, over six feet tall, and afraid of snakes to the point of losing unconsciousness. Despite her efforts, laughter escaped her.

  “Don’t. Laugh.” Gabriel pushed to a sitting position. “Maggie died of snakebite. I can’t stand the things.”

  “’Tis sorry I am, but it’s naught but a wee serpent, and it’s no longer alive.” She would not admit her own fear. “I’ll protect you whenever there’s one around.”

  “I didn’t know you had killed it.” Gabriel glared at her. “I said not to laugh.” His eyes narrowed at the cat. “What’s that?”

  “It’s called a cat.” Charity stood and brushed her skirt free of dirt and straw. She must look a fright with red eyes and nose. “We’re taking it to the house.”

  “No, you’re not.” The color returning to his face, Gabriel got to his feet.

  “It’s the least you can do, on account of me saving your life.” Charity grinned.

  “The snake was already dead when I walked up.”

  “You wouldn’t know it from your actions, now would you?” She took Patches from Sam’s hands. “Come on, fearless husband. Let’s see what I can scrounge up for supper.”

  “You’re an evil woman, Charity O’Connell Williams.” Gabe made a wide berth around the snake.

  Charity Williams. She liked the sound of her new name on his lips. The fact the man had a fear of snakes, endeared him, rather than showed a sign of weakness. She rather liked it. Now, how would he react when she requested his departed Maggie’s belongings be carted back to the house?

  6

  “Is this a recent fear of snakes?” Charity jogged to keep up with Gabriel. She wanted to joke him out of his embarrassment, but didn’t figure from the stony look on his face, that the idea would be well received. He was definitely one of the most prickly people she’d ever met.

  “Nope. Been afraid all my life. I was bitten when I was a little guy and almost died.” His jaw tightened. “Gave my ma a real fright. Then, after Maggie, well…”

  “Do you have a scar? Can I see it?”

  “It’s on my upper thigh.” He increased his pace, high spots of color on his cheeks. “You have an odd sense of curiosity.”

  “Oh.” Charity put a hand over her mouth. Husband or not, that was an area of his body off limits for sure. When would she learn to think before speaking? She needed to get her mind onto something else. She should probably take care of the snake carcass before Gabriel needed to go back into the barn. What if he fainted and hit his head and no one was around to help?

  He glanced sideways at her. “What are you afraid of?”

  Things too numerous to mention. How could she tell him she was frightened of being alone or failing at the life she’d chosen to undertake? Or that the possibility of no one loving her just for who she was scared the daylights out of her? She straightened her shoulders. “Thunderstorms.”

  That was a lie. She loved the crackle of lightning and boom of thunder. She swallowed back the guilt and turned toward the barn. “I’ll be in the house in a moment. Go relax and get to know Patches.”

  “I don’t want a cat in the house.”

  Without looking over her shoulder, she said, “You’re outnumbered, Mr. Williams.”

  Gabriel grabbed her upper arm and swung her around. “It’s my home.”

  “And for the next twelve months, at least, it’s mine, also.” She yanked free and hitched her skirt in order to move quicker. “What do your children do in the long winter months?”

  “They learn to read, do their sums, and I teach them Bible stories.” He kept pace with her. “It’s up to the parents to provide their children’s religious training since we have no church this far out. Or a school for that matter. Occasionally, we’ll make it into town for shopping. Maybe twice a year.”

  “Do they have any toys?” She
stopped and studied his face.

  The man really did look confused. His brow lowered over hazel eyes that sparkled like the jewels she’d seen in a rich lady’s ears once in London. Gabriel chewed the inside of his jaw, as if the word ‘toy’ wasn’t in his vocabulary. Charity still had the simple linen doll her mother had made her when she was a wee child, the blue dress now faded. It was one of her most cherished possessions. “Simple things, like a carved horse or a rag doll? I didn’t think so. The cat will keep away the mice and give the children a friend during the cold months.”

  “Do you ever ask permission for anything? Sam and Meg can occupy each other. They have before now.”

  “No. Now, unless you’d like to see the snake again, I suggest you go back with the children.” Charity smiled. Asking permission only set a person up for heartbreak, or worse. It gave the opportunity for someone to take all that a person had and throw it away, leaving that person destitute and unable to provide a decent living for themselves.

  She’d thought marriage would change that, until she discovered her new husband didn’t want a true marriage. He wanted a wife as a means to win a gamble. Through a haze of unshed tears, she watched Gabriel rush back to the house. No matter. She’d make the most of the next year and worry about the days after when the time came.

  By the time she had the carcass buried in a corner of the garden, the sun slept behind the mountain, and Gabriel had lit a lantern in the sod house’s one window. Charity leaned on the shovel and stared inside as he tossed his head back in laughter. Meg threw her arms around her papa’s neck while Sam watched from his seat at the table.

  Charity swallowed against the lump in her throat. Such a pleasing picture they made. One she wasn’t a part of. What would it feel like for Gabriel’s strong arms to hold her or his lips to brush against hers? She closed her eyes, almost hearing his husky voice proclaim his love for her. Surely he cared. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the time to till her garden, would he?

  Wishful thinking and daydreams were a waste of time. And time seemed more precious than gold on the Montana prairie.