“Not once winter hits, and you’re snowed in. Which doesn’t happen all the time, from what I’ve heard, but enough to make folks cautious.” He leaned against the rake, his gaze intense. “Sam, check on your sister, please.”
“I can see her from here, Pa. She’s playing with Patches.”
“Do as I say, son.”
Charity swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and reached for a drink. What had she done now?
Gabriel removed his hat. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and he wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ve been doing some thinking, Charity.”
Uh-oh.
“Are you happy here?” he asked. “With me and the young’uns?”
“Well, if you’d talk to—”
“Hello, the house!”
Charity pulled herself away from Gabriel’s gaze. Mr. Stoltz raced up the yard on the back of a brown mule.
“Fire! South of your house and moving fast. Me and the missus could see the smoke from our place. I got here as quick as I could.”
Charity grabbed the bucket and ran for the house. “Sam! Meg! Gather up buckets and blankets.” She’d seen a fire in town once and would never forget the sight of buildings burning, horses screaming, and people fleeing with what little they could carry.
“Charity!” Gabriel stopped her. “Have the children help you get everything you can inside the house. Sod doesn’t burn. Then you stay put.”
She whirled. “No, I can help you. Even Sam can—”
“It’s too dangerous.” He frowned.
“You can’t fight a fire alone, Gabriel Williams.” Charity put her hands on her hips. “We can argue about it or we can take action.”
Mr. Stoltz slid from his mule’s back and slapped the animal’s rump to send it a safe distance away. “She’s right. I’ll stay and help, but it will be better with three.”
“Look at her, Hiram. She’s not much bigger than Sam.”
“But I’m strong, Gabriel.” She wouldn’t hide in the house and worry about him. He couldn’t ask her to. She dashed to the line of clean clothes and tossed them in the waiting basket.
“Meg, Sam, bring in whatever you can carry. Meg, put Patches inside.” Charity hefted the basket, dropped it inside the door, and then started yanking blankets off the beds. She’d seen men beat at the flames before. She could do that. “Sam, when you’ve finished that, I need every bucket we have filled with water.”
By the time she got back outside, Gabriel and Hiram had started digging a trench around the immediate property. Charity stared at the newly framed house. Would all Gabriel’s efforts have been in vain? She hoped not. If the house burned, his chances of having it built before his ridiculous deadline didn’t look good.
Once they’d moved everything into the house small enough to carry, Charity and the children stood and watched the smoke move closer while the men continued to dig behind them. Maybe the flames wouldn’t jump the creek. Charity’s throat clogged at the thought of losing the small grove of aspen trees, and she glanced over her shoulder at the men. What would happen to them if everything burned?
“How did the fire start?” Gabriel shook his head. “No lightning that I know of.”
Hiram shrugged. “I saw the silhouette of a man on a horse earlier, but only a darn fool would mess with fire in the middle of a drought.”
“Could you see who it was? What did he look like?” Gabriel slapped his hat against his thigh.
“Can’t say as I did get a clear look.” Hiram clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll beat this thing, don’t worry.”
*
Gabe prayed so. He let his gaze roam over his family. Charity stood with her arms around the children, a tub of soaked blankets beside her. He shook his head. Silly woman, thinking she could beat off a brush fire with nothing but water and fabric.
When the crackling of flames filled the air and he could see the fire licking at the brush on the opposite side of the creek, he tightened his grip on his shovel as if he could hold the fire back by sheer will power. Lord, don’t let it jump the shallow creek.
The fire ate its way up to the top of an aspen. With a crack, the tree fell, forming a fiery bridge, and enabling the flames to dance their way to the opposite side.
“Sam, Meg, I won’t tell you again to get in the house.” Gabriel rushed the flames and shoveled dirt on top of the burning tree. Hiram did the same.
Charity grabbed a blanket and beat at the smoldering grass. Her hairpins came loose, and her hair tumbled down her back, almost as red as the encroaching flames. Even as the fire continued to consume its way closer, she battled with the fierceness of a mother bear. Gabe wanted to grab her in his arms and praise her efforts.
“Sam!” She straightened. “We need more water.”
“No.” Gabe glared. “The children stay in the house.”
“They can help. This is their home, too.” Charity held her skirt above her ankles and stomped on an ember. “The fire isn’t farther down the creek. They can fill the buckets there.”
Gabe knew he’d lost the battle with her when she gathered all the blankets in her arms and tripped her way to the water. “Come on, Sam. Meg, you stay put.”
The air filled with smoke, burning his throat and stinging his eyes. Charity and Hiram must suffer the same, yet neither complained. The fire forced them back, foot-by-foot, as if its sole purpose was to devour the weeks of work Gabe spent in framing their new home. The fire wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t have time to cut more lumber, even if he had the funds to purchase more.
“We’re losing it.” Hiram beat at the flames with his shovel.
“No, we’re not.” Gabe hefted more dirt, working as feverishly as a dog digging up a bone for its last meal. Dust mingled in the air with the smoke, forcing him to pull the neckline of his shirt over his nose.
Charity coughed, tears streaming down soot-covered cheeks.
Hiram was right. The fire was winning. Gabe tossed down his shovel and dipped a bucket into the shallow creek, the heat searing the hair on his arms. He tossed bucket after bucket on the flames making their way to the house. “No!”
Charity thrust another bucket of water into his hands. “I’ll fill, you toss. Hiram can beat with the blankets.”
Gabe nodded. Charity O’Connell Williams was one of a kind, and he counted himself a lucky man to have her by his side.
The sun continued to set as they fought for everything they owned, until, finally, the flames died, petering out to black ash.
Charity sagged to the ground. “The trees. They’re gone.”
Gabe plopped next to her. “They’ll grow back. I owe you our home. You and Hiram.”
She grunted. “It’s my home, too, as you seem to so often forget.” She glanced back at the house. “Meg, bring me the medical box, please.”
“Why, are you injured?” Gabe ran his gaze over her.
“Just my leg. My dress caught fire, and I stuck my leg in the creek to put out the fire.”
Without thinking, he shoved aside her dress, revealing blackened undergarments and a blistering calf. He scooped her in his arms and ran for the house. “Why didn’t you say something you stubborn woman?”
“Because you would have stopped to take care of me, and there wasn’t time.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “It burns something fierce, though.”
Hiram followed them, and stopped at the door. “I’m heading home now, Gabe. Want me to send the missus to look after Charity?”
Gabe maneuvered around farm equipment and clean laundry to set Charity on the bed and then turned, extending his hand. “We couldn’t have done this without you, neighbor. I owe you more than I can say. If you hadn’t warned us, we would’ve never got the trench dug.” Not that it did a lot of good, but the fire hadn’t reached the new house or the barn. “No, you keep your wife to home. I can care for Charity.”
Hiram grinned through a blackened face. “You’d a done the same. You al
l right, Charity?”
“I’ll be fine. No need to worry Mabel.” She smiled, her teeth white through the soot.
As soon as Hiram had left, Gabe hurried back to Charity’s side where Meg waited, a canister of salve in her hand.
Charity sighed and slapped his hand away. “Let me do it myself. It isn’t proper.”
“But, I’m your husband.” Not proper? Had she inhaled too much smoke?
“Not in that way.”
“It’s blistering, Charity.” He ripped her undergarments to above the knee. “Yours isn’t the first woman’s leg I’ve seen.” Although it was quite shapely. He scooped some of the ointment in his fingers and spread it across the burn, trying not to dwell on how soft the underside of her leg had felt when he shoved up her skirts.
“Meg, honey, can you get me some clean water and a rag?” He smiled in his daughter’s worried face.
“Is Ma going to be all right?” Meg’s lip trembled.
“Right as rain.” Gabe waved Sam over. “Keep an eye outside, all right? Let me know if any embers start back up.”
“Sure, Pa.” Sam skedaddled out the door.
When Meg returned with a bowl of water and a rag, Gabe dunked the square piece of flannel, wrung it out, and prepared to wipe Charity’s face.
Her eyes widened, and she shoved his hands away again. She spoke slowly and distinctly. “You will not bathe me!”
“I’m just washing your face.” She sure was standoffish for someone in pain.
“Please, Gabriel, go outside and see what work you can find. I’m sure there’s plenty.”
“Why? The fire’s out.” He scratched his head. “You worked as good as a man out there today. Let me take care of you now.” And forever, if she’d let him. They still had a conversation to finish.
“I don’t want you to.” Tears welled in her eyes. “It’s embarrassing. I need to change my clothes and clean up properly.”
“But you’re injured.” Maybe he was dense, but he didn’t understand the problem.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then gave him a stern look. “My dress is burned, my … undergarments are ripped, thanks to you, and I’m filthy. I would really like to clean up. If you’re that worried, Meg can help me.”
Her Irish brogue deepened with each word, a clear sign her temper was about to flare as strong as the fire had burned outside. Planting his hands on his knees, he pushed to his feet. “All right. But if you need anything, call out.”
“I will, and thank you.” He shuffled to the door and stopped. “What if it gets infected?”
She pointed. “Out.”
She sure was prickly. Gabe stepped outside, leaving the door open, and scanned the area around the house. Black aspen skeletons waved toward heaven. Equally dark patches of grass covered the ground, stopping twenty feet away from the barn. Gabe looked to heaven. Thank you, Lord. We could have lost everything.
Sam poked at the ground with a burned stick, his pants and shirt as filthy as Gabe felt he most likely was. “Come on, Son. Let’s head down creek and wash this grime off.” He slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “I’m right proud of you. You did the work of a man out there.”
Sam’s face brightened, then saddened. “Is Ma going to be okay? I couldn’t bear to lose another ma.”
Gabe squeezed. “She’ll be fine, but she’s as grumpy as an old bear.”
“Yep,” Sam giggled. “Same as every other time she’s around you. Why is that?”
Gabe wished he knew. “The relationship between a man and a woman is complicated. Only God truly understands it.” And he sure wished the Almighty would see fit to share the knowledge.
10
The next morning, Charity limped outside. Her burned leg screeched with pain. Every time she recalled Gabriel ripping the leg of her under drawers, her face flamed, and she broke out into a sweat. Married or not, the gesture had been too intimate, not to mention it was the only pair of bloomers she owned. No amount of mending would make them look nice. When would she find time to sew a new pair?
Today was the fourth of July, and everything in front of her held the lovely, festive color of scorched grey. Oh, well. It was freedom they celebrated, and whether the Stoltzes still arrived as planned or not, Charity intended to have that picnic she’d worked so hard cooking for.
She made her way slowly to the barn. They’d need something for a makeshift table. She found planks for the top, barrels for the legs, and crates for seats. One by one she dragged them outside and sent Meg for the Irish lace tablecloth in her trunk—one of the few possessions Charity’s mother had left her.
In the center of the table, she set an apple pie, a pan of cornpone, and her blue speckled tin plates and matching mugs. Flowers would have been nice, but the fire destroyed them all, unless she wanted to take a hike upstream, which she didn’t. There wasn’t time, and her injured leg would never forgive her.
Once the table was set for company, Charity headed back to the stove to baste the ribs again. The smell of homemade sauce and mouthwatering, beef cooked overnight filled the sod house.
“Who set up the table outside?” Gabriel stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
Charity turned. “I did, why?”
“I thought I told you to take it easy on your leg.”
“I’m not an invalid, Gabriel. I’m perfectly capable of carrying on with my work.” She replaced the lid on the ribs. Her leg did pain her, but she’d planned this day for weeks and didn’t intend to let anything happen to keep it from being as wonderful a day as she had planned it to be.
Gabriel pulled a leather book from the mantel and plopped into his chair with a huff. The sound of rustling paper competed with the song of Sam’s and Meg’s laughter drifting from outside.
Did the man really have time to read? Charity loved reading, but this wasn’t the time. She could think of plenty of work if he didn’t have anything to do. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a Bible verse on freedom,” he said without glancing up. “I’d like to read a couple at supper.”
“What does the Bible have to do with the Fourth of July?” She recalled him saying the family read a lot of Bible stories on winter evenings, but this was the middle of the summer.
“You’d be surprised. Try to rest your leg, even if for a little while. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Gabriel flashed a grin, which set Charity’s heart fluttering, and took his Bible outside.
Charity was glad Mabel had taught her to knit and quilt. It would give her something to do besides sit and listen to stories from a book once the heavy snows fell. Her mother had believed in God and the Bible. Look where it got her. Dead from poverty and a broken heart. Religion wasn’t for Charity. Gabriel could teach his children, but she’d mind her own business and keep her opinion to herself.
Sounds of a wagon pulling into the yard drew her away from the stove and outside. The Stoltzes pulled up to the barn, Mabel’s arms loaded down with a basket. She waved and waited for Hiram to help her down.
Charity grinned and limped as fast as she could to greet them. She might have grumbled at first about spending a week with Mabel learning skills she needed, but now she was thankful for the knowledge and the right to call the other woman ‘friend’.
Mabel set her basket on the wagon seat and pulled Charity into a hug. “A month is too long, my friend.”
“It is.” Charity waved the children forward, proud of the yellow calico Meg wore.
“Did you make this?” Mabel fingered Meg’s sleeve.
“I did, out of one of Maggie’s old dresses.”
“You do me proud. You are a real fast learner.” Mabel retrieved her basket. “I’ve brought a few jars of wild plum jam and some mashed potatoes. I know you said not to bring anything, but this jam is a gift. There will be some left to enjoy in the winter.”
“Thank you.” Tears stung Charity’s eyes. When was the last time someone gave her something without expecting anything in return? “I will save it fo
r special occasions.”
“How’s your leg?” Mabel strolled beside her as they headed for the table. “Hiram told me how brave you were during the fire. I would have fallen to pieces.”
“It’s sore, but I’ll survive.” Charity took a jar of jam from the basket and set the rest under what used to be her favorite aspen tree. “It’s the loss of trees and flowers that pains me more.”
“All those things will grow back. A life won’t.” Mabel swept her skirt aside and took a seat on one of the crates. “It’s a miserably hot day. Looks like rain.”
“Rain would be welcome.” Even more so if it would have arrived a couple of days earlier. Charity’s burn throbbed, and she sat opposite Mabel, keeping her face composed so her friend wouldn’t guess her discomfort.
“Hiram found something in regards to yesterday’s fire.” Mabel lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Won’t tell me what, but I’m sure he’s telling Gabe right this minute.”
Charity glanced toward the new house where the men strolled, heads together. “Do folks around here usually set fires on each other?”
“Not usually. Land and homes are too precious.” Mabel frowned. “Might be Indians, I suppose. Sometimes they get a bee in their bonnet about the white folks infringing on what they think is theirs, but as far as I know, Gabe gets along with most of them. Has even taught some of them the Good Word.”
Charity’s heart hitched. Indians! Living in Virginia City, she hadn’t given them much thought. She scanned the landscape for feather adorned savages.
“How are you Gabe getting along since your return?” Mabel’s question pulled Charity from her frightened thoughts.
“What?”
Mabel chuckled. “You and Gabe?” She waved a hand. “It’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine.” Charity looked back at the men. Gabe kicked a rock and crossed his arms. “He’s not very talkative. It almost seems as if he avoids me. I think I make him uncomfortable.”
“Probably.” Mabel shrugged. “I doubt he’s met anyone like you. You’re as different from his late wife as summer is from winter. Speaking of winter, he won’t be able to avoid you then.”
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