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

by Cynthia Hickey

  She leaned the shovel against the barn and shuffled inside to grab her own dinner.

  “Evenin’, Ma. We saved you a plate.” Sam stood and pulled out her chair for her.

  “Thank you.” Charity moved to the washboard, washed her hands and face, and then turned to take her seat. Two pairs of dark eyes, and one pair that seemed to change shades of blue and green depending on his mood, stared at her.

  She put a hand to her face. “Do I still have dirt?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “The children were telling me how brave you were about killing—the, uh—snake.” He shuddered. “I’m much obliged, Charity. You put their safety above your own.”

  “As any responsible adult would.” His unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable. Charity busied herself sitting and arranging her napkin in her lap.

  “Not everybody. I’d like to give thanks for not only our meal, but for you.” Gabriel stretched his left arm across the table and waited for Charity to place her smaller hand in his. The children scrambled to their places and joined hands.

  “Father, we ask that you bless this humble meal, and we thank you for using this brave woman to save my children and myself from certain death this night. Amen.”

  Certain death? Surely not. Charity fidgeted and drew her hand free. There hadn’t been a lot of praying in the O’Connell home. Especially after her ma died, and Pa tossed everything else away on the card tables. Gabriel exaggerated the danger to his family. Instead of meeting his gaze, she dropped hers to a plate of milk and leftover corn pone. She really did need to learn how to cook.

  *

  “Mrs. Stoltz is more than willing to teach you a woman’s place in Montana and how to do women’s work.” Gabe spooned a heaping spoonful of food into his mouth. “I’ll take you over first thing in the morning. The children and I will do fine without you for a few days.”

  “Days?” Charity lifted her head. “You’re sending me away?”

  “You’ll know everything you need to by the time you get back.” He grinned around his spoon.

  She looked stricken rather than pleased. Would Gabe ever figure this woman out? All he wanted to do was make the next year as easy for her as possible. After all, the last thing he needed was for her to exhaust herself. Any fool could see she wasn’t made of sturdy stock. Not with a waist as tiny as Meg’s and her barely taller than Sam. But then again, she had Gabe beat in the bravery department. He set his spoon down with a clatter. “You don’t want to go?”

  “I just arrived.” She still stared at her plate.

  “I thought it would make things easier for you. You don’t have to go, if it bothers you.”

  She took a deep breath. “No, you went to all the trouble. I’ll pack my things before I go to sleep.”

  “Children, head to bed. Your ma and I need to talk.” Gabe stood and cleared off his plate as Meg and Sam grumbled about going to bed early. Meg clutched the kitten her arms. “Charity, would you step outside, please? There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Charity’s eyes widened, and she gathered the children’s plates along with her half-eaten dinner. After setting them into the washbasin, she brushed past him and outside.

  Gabe rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to broach the subject of her feelings. He and Maggie had lived together like folks who’d never been apart, knowing what the other thought without having to say anything. Boring. Bland. Predictable. That’s what his life had been like. Charity had been with them for two days and had already livened the place up more than he’d thought a person could. He stared toward where he planned to build the big house.

  A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle and teased the ends of Charity’s curls. A coyote howled off in the distance. A beautiful mournful sound.

  Gabe would make sure to build a couple of rocking chairs to set on the new porch. Wouldn’t it be nice to pass a quiet evening listening to God’s creation and watching the stars flicker to life each night? He glanced at Charity. If only all of God’s creation was as easy to deal with as nature.

  “After visiting with Mrs. Stoltz today,” he began. He never did get to finish her corn pone. Charity’s day old stuff hadn’t been bad, just a bit dry. “It occurred to me that I might have brought you here under false pretenses.”

  “How so?” She crossed her arms and did not turn to look at him. If water could have frozen at her tone, the creek would have been hard enough for a team of horses to walk on.

  “I don’t think I was clear about my intentions when I asked you to marry me.”

  “You were more than clear, Mr. Williams.”

  He shook his head. She refused to call him by his first name when something had her riled. “Then is it the fact that it’s a marriage in name only that bothers you? Because I would be willing to—”

  She whirled too fast for him to back up before she punched him in the chest with her finger. “I am not a wanton woman, sir! I will not throw myself at a man, husband or no.” Her brogue, which thickened when she was angry, made Gabe frown, straining to decipher her meaning.

  “Of course, not. I just . . . uh,” He didn’t know what he meant. “Something is bothering you so just spit it out. I ain’t a mind reader.”

  “You left out the very important fact that you are a gambler.” She lifted her chin, and her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “I would not have married you had I known. Now, you are also unhappy with my work and are sending me away before I’ve had a chance to prove myself.” Her words caught on a sob, and she dashed toward the barn.

  “No, you misunderstand.” Gabe reached a hand toward her then let it fall, listening to her footsteps pound away. He wasn’t a gambler. Not really. One stupid wager that he’d take back if he could. He’d insulted her and hurt her feelings. What could he possibly do to her next?

  Sighing, he went back inside, leaving the door unlatched for Charity’s return. He sat in his worn leather covered armchair beside the fireplace and toed off his boots. She called him a gambler, and he figured maybe she was right after all. A silly bet threatened everything he held dear, and because of it, he’d tricked a woman into marrying him.

  He still stared into the fire’s dying embers when Charity came in and latched the door behind her. “I will stick to my part of the bargain, Mr. Williams, have no fear. But I will not live in a hovel. By the time I return from my exile, I wish there to be a wooden floor and two glass windows, if you can manage.”

  “I can definitely manage the floor.” How was he going to get the other house built if he had to keep putting work into this one? But, considering his deviousness, building her a floor for the winter was a small thing in comparison.

  “There is also some furniture in the loft I would like brought down.”

  He shook his head. “You are welcome to anything in Maggie’s trunk and the small stuff, but this sod house has no room for a bureau and mirror, or fancy dishes. Save them for the big house.”

  Charity locked her gaze on his. “Very well. Do the floor. I will do what I can to make this place more pleasant, and wait until my term of service is over.” With a swish of her skirts, she disappeared behind the hanging quilt.

  Despite the fact he’d made her angry, Gabe couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. Montana needed more women with the backbone of Charity O’Connell Williams.

  Fabric rustled. He glanced over to see her dress puddle to the floor where the quilt cleared the floor by a few inches. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. For some reason he thought she would sleep fully clothed. Not in her underthings. His neck heated. He’d never get any sleep now. Not with the vision of pale skin and a waterfall of fiery hair running through his mind.

  After shoving his feet back in his boots, he headed outside to the barn. There was always work to do to take a man’s mind off most anything. His steps faltered at the barn door as he glanced around for the dead snake’s buddies. Not seeing anything that didn’t belong, he went inside and grabbed the
rake. Mucking out Rogue’s and the cow’s stalls had always worked at taking away lustful wants when Maggie hadn’t been in the mood.

  Of course, this time, he might warrant a dunking in the icy creek.

  7

  Charity sat in the wagon, a tattered carpetbag at her feet, and blinked back tears. Sure, Gabriel thought he was doing the best thing, but Charity was just getting accustomed to living here, and now she had to leave for a few days. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. She’d be the fastest learner any of these people had ever seen. Within a week, she’d be the finest prairie wife around. Somewhere, someday, she’d find that “someone” who valued her for who she was.

  “Meg,” she smiled down at the little girl. “Take care of the garden for me. Sam, help your father so he can make progress on the house.”

  Gabriel climbed up next to her. “This isn’t forever, Charity. You’ll be back by the week’s end. I’m only trying to make things easier for you.”

  “But sending me away puts you farther behind in your goals.” She shook her head. “Forget the floor. It is a selfish idea.”

  “The floor will only take me a day.” He clicked to the horses. They snorted and plodded down the road. “You act like you’re going to your death. Are the Irish always this dramatic?”

  “Are you always forthright to the point of rudeness?” She crossed her arms. What a foolish infant she was. Of course, she’d be back. Why couldn’t she let go of the fact that all this transpired because of his wager? It couldn’t be undone, and he meant nothing personal toward her by having made the silly bet.

  She glanced out the corner of her eye, noting the way Gabriel’s forearms flexed when they worked the reins, and the way his hat shaded his eyes. She sighed. Why couldn’t he have wanted her as a bride in every way? If she continued to act like a shrew, he’d never want her to stay.

  His question from the night before sent heat coursing through her face. Obviously, the man would be more than willing to enjoy the blessings of a physical marriage. What man wouldn’t? But what would it do to their agreement to part in a year’s time? Charity wouldn’t sell herself that way, not even for the hunger of feeling a strong man’s arms around her. Divorce was not something she’d cotton to. Leaving things the way they were would allow them to have an annulment. She’d coped alone after her pa’s death and could do so for as long as needed.

  Since Gabriel seemed content to ride along in silence. Charity allowed her gaze to roam the countryside. Flowers in a rainbow of colors dotted the hills. Aspen, their white trunks shining in the sun, stood tall beside the creek they followed. The sky, bluer than anything she’d seen before her arrival in Montana two years ago, almost hurt her eyes with its brightness. In the distance, mountains rose, kissing the sky.

  She lifted her face to the warm morning sun and closed her eyes. Maybe it was time she decided what she really wanted out of life. Gold or a family?

  Why couldn’t a girl have both? She glanced at Gabriel again and nodded. She’d be the best wife he could ever find. She’d strike it rich, and at the end of the year, he’d beg her to stay.

  “Why do you keep staring at me?” Gabriel peered from under his hat brim. “I washed my face this morning.”

  “I wasn’t staring.” She turned back to the scenery, content with her backup plans for the future. If Gabriel followed through with sending her on her way, she would survive.

  “I placed a paper pad and a pencil stub in your bag this morning so you can take notes at the Stoltzes’.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “You seem like a smart enough woman. I assume you can read?”

  “Yes, thank you.” The ninny. As if Charity was incapable of remembering anything.

  She would love the opportunity to speak with his late wife. Had the man always been in the dark in regards to women as he appeared to be now? He meant well, but most of his comments were condescending. Charity had a mind of her own and knew well how to use it, thanks to her parents who insisted she learn to write and do figures. She sighed. He would learn soon enough.

  By the time the Stoltz farm came into view, a herd of buffalo stampeded through Charity’s stomach. What if they didn’t like her? What if she couldn’t learn the things they taught her as well as she thought she could? Why hadn’t her mother taught her these things instead of succumbing to Da’s wishes in hiring help?

  Money burned a hole in Da’s pocket whenever he won at cards, and he had enjoyed nothing more than showering his “ladies” with finery, almost unheard of for the Irish.

  Charity pressed a hand to her midsection. If she was a praying woman, she would have prayed for peace about the situation. Unfortunately, God had given up on the O’Connell’s a while ago.

  Gabriel pulled the wagon in front of a sod house that, at least on the outside, matched the home of the Williamses. He set the brake, hopped down, and then strolled to Charity’s side. His large hands spanned her waist as he lowered her to the ground, doing nothing to calm her tumultuous stomach.

  He smiled down at her and took her by the arm. “Relax. They’re some of the most welcoming people you’ll ever meet. My guess is, Mabel will become your best friend.”

  She allowed him to lead her to the door, which swung open before they could knock. A thickset woman with grey hair pulled Charity into a buxom hug that smelled of yeast and honey.

  “You’re the prettiest thing these parts have ever seen! I’ve seen you in town from a distance, passed a couple of times at the mercantile, and you are a darling. I’m Mabel Stoltz. You call me Mabel, and I’m very happy to meet you.” Her grin revealed warm wrinkles around her eyes and settled Charity’s nerves.

  “Thank you for your offer of help.” Charity took a step back before she suffocated in the woman’s embrace.

  “We’ll have such fun.” She turned to Gabriel, then glanced over his shoulder. “The young’uns?”

  “Left at home.” He tipped his hat. “I’d best get back to them. It’s not a good thing to leave children alone for too long, and it’s already been well over an hour.”

  “God speed, neighbor.” Mabel nodded. “And make sure you bring them with you when you collect your bride on Saturday. I’ve a hankering for hugs from little ones.”

  Saturday? But today was only Monday! Charity gulped and stamped down the urge to climb back in the wagon. Other than doing folks’s laundry, she tended to keep her mouth shut around people she didn’t know, and with the way Mabel went on, talking was going to be an every minute occurrence.

  “Come meet my groom, Hiram.” Mabel practically shoved Charity through the door.

  Wood floors! Doilies on every surface, paper on the walls, and not an insect in sight. Charity’s stomach began to relax. A woman’s presence in a real home. She smiled for the first time since getting out of the wagon. “Your home is lovely.”

  “Thank you, dear. It ain’t much, but it’s all ours. Hiram, meet Gabriel’s bride, Charity. If I’m not mistaken from her accent, we’ve an Irish gal here.”

  A man as thin as his wife was round, unfolded himself from a rocking chair in front of a stone fireplace. He smiled, nodded, and skedaddled out the door like a cat with cans tied to its tail.

  Mabel laughed. “He’s shy. Let’s get lunch started and begin your first cooking lesson. What do you know how to make?”

  “Beans and corn pone.” Charity clutched the handle of her bag tighter. “And eggs. I make right fine biscuits, too.”

  “That’s a wonderful start. We’ll begin right away. There is a lot to do in the week you’re here.” Mabel bustled to an iron stove shoved in the corner she used as her cooking area. “I’ve got some chicken left over from last night’s supper, so I’ll teach you to make hash. You can do this with leftover beef, too. Set your bag next to those blankets over there.” She pointed to the left of the fireplace. “That’s your bed for the time you’re here.”

  Charity set the bag on the floor and pulled out her paper and pencil. She’d thought she might have a moment
to settle in before getting to work. With a deep breath, she clutched the precious pad to her chest and faced Mabel. “I’m ready.”

  “You can write? That’s good. I can’t even write my own name.” Mabel chuckled. “We’ll fill that pad with words in the days to come.” She handed Charity a large kitchen knife. “Mince that chicken, over there. Not too fine, and make sure you remove all the bones.”

  Charity nodded and rushed to do her bidding. While Mabel chattered on like a flock of birds in the aspens, Charity chopped chicken, then onions, and added them with salt and butter to a waiting pan. She straightened. That wasn’t too bad, but maybe Mabel started her on the easy things first.

  *

  Gabe kept the team at a fast trot on the way home, already missing Charity’s presence. She was right. Sending her away would slow him down on building, but he honestly did not think he could eat beans and corn pone for the next year.

  Remembering the pained look on her face when she’d brought up the subject of gambling, tore at Gabe’s heart. Somebody hurt the woman deeply. Without regard to her feelings, Gabe had done the same thing. Lord, forgive me. Somehow, I’ll make things right.

  When he pulled into his yard, Sam and Meg pulled aside the oilcloth over the window and peered out. There really wasn’t any way Sam could get a glass window installed in time, but he had extra lumber for a floor, and planks were definitely better than dirt come the frigid winter. He should have made such improvements before, for the sake of his children.

  His shoulders sagged. He had been so focused on winning the bet, that he had allowed other important things, like his children, to fall to the wayside.

  Meg and Sam raced outside, and Gabe noticed how short his daughter’s dress was, rising several inches above tanned ankles. They would need to make a trip into town soon. If they were lucky, they would make two; one when Charity returned and one before the snow fell.