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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Maybe not, but come late spring, he’ll still send me away. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Gabriel Willliams is a man of his word.”

  ###

  “A tobacco tin, you say?” Gabe clenched his fists. He knew who carried one of those. A lot of men, but he’d bet his money on just one. “Does it happen to be gold with black lettering?”

  “Yep.” Hiram pulled a scorched tin from his pocket. “Mean anything to you.”

  “It might.” Gabe took it and folded his fist around it. “Amos Jenkins. The man’s trying to run me off my land. Since I got married and I’m making progress, he thinks he can burn me out.” He patted one of the house’s timbers. “But I’m ahead of schedule. Once I get the outside finished, I can work on the inside when the snows hit. I’m winning that bet, no matter what.” He wouldn’t let some lowlife scoundrel take away all that was important to him.

  “Careful you don’t let that desire affect other more important things.” Hiram nodded toward the makeshift table where the women sat. Sam and Meg bounded across the yard, Patches scampering behind them, and joined the women.

  Gabe should get them a dog. A dog would be a good warning signal, and a better playmate than a cat. But dogs needed companionship and food. A cat could hunt for mice. “Nothing is more important than my children.” Or Charity for that matter, but he’d worked too hard on developing his land to let a wager made in a fit of anger ruin everything.

  “Sounds to me like you need to have a serious conversation with God. Have you ever stopped to ask Him what He wants for your life? Maybe you aren’t meant to stay here.”

  “Of course I am. This is what I’ve worked my whole life for. It’s what Maggie wanted.” How could Hiram suggest such a thing?

  “Maybe so. At least think about it.” Hiram rubbed his belly. “We going to eat soon? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  “Sure. Let’s keep our suspicions about the fire between us, all right? I don’t want the women to worry.” Or Charity to think she needed to go investigating. The woman seemed to have more curiosity than that kitten she found.

  By the time they joined the women, Charity was limping out from the soddie, loaded down with the pan of ribs. Gabe rushed to her side and relieved her of the heavy burden. Why wouldn’t she listen to reason and take it easy on her leg?

  “Don’t scowl at me,” she warned. “You were busy, and I wasn’t going to ask our company to fetch it. ‘Twouldn’t be proper. ”

  “Then you should have called for me.” He shifted the pan in order to get a more comfortable grip.

  “You were deep in conversation.” She planted her fists on her hips and tilted her head to scowl at him. “Was it about the fire? Mabel thinks Indians might be the culprits.”

  “It wasn’t Indians, and you women don’t need to worry yourselves.” Gabe marched to the table and set the pan in the center. Dishes of mashed potatoes, cornpone, and an apple pie filled the rest of the space.

  “No, of course not. We should only concern ourselves with the house and children.”

  “Exactly.”

  Mabel frowned, Hiram paled, and the children’s eyes widened. What was wrong with everyone? Why was it that Charity took offense at everything Gabe said? For centuries men and women had defined roles in the household. It’s how God ordained thing, right? Yet Charity acted as if it were all new. Something he made up. His Ma had seemed content in her role. Weren’t all women the same? Maybe he needed to rethink things.

  He stormed to the barn and grabbed his Bible from the work bench he had left it on. They could all use a little of God’s word. He took his seat at the end of the table and laid the worn leather book on the wood planks. “I thought we’d celebrate today with verses explaining what freedom really means to us.”

  Charity plopped into her seat at the other end of the table and focused on her hands. The rest of them stared expectantly at Gabe. One day, he’d ask Charity what she had against God. He opened the Bible.

  “Psalm 119:45 says I will walk at liberty, for I seek your precepts. Isaiah 61:1 says He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and the opening of the prison to those who are bound. Romans 8:21 because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” He glanced at those listening.

  “I believe that, although America earned her freedom from England, we have more freedom through Christ than we could ever obtain from a bullet shot into an enemy. It’s the blood of God’s son that gives us the freedom we celebrate today.”

  “You ever thought of taking up preaching?” Hiram asked. “You’ve a knack for it, even if you are a mite short-winded. Those are the exact reasons we ought to be celebrating today.”

  Gabe shook his head. “God hasn’t called me to minister to any other than my own family.” And one red-headed woman who still hadn’t looked up from her clenched hands. Maybe she pondered his words and would, in time, ask God to release her from the chains that bound her. “Let’s eat. Hiram, would you say the blessing?” Gabe held out his hands, and they joined in a circle.

  “Lord we ask for your blessing on this food and on the hands that prepared it. May we enjoy a day of fellowship as we celebrate freedom earned through your Son and through the men who won our victory over England’s tyranny. Amen.”

  ###

  Charity plunged her hands into the washbasin, thankful the water was hot enough to blame for the flush on her face. Freedom, indeed! A woman wasn’t free in today’s world. They were left to the whim and supposed protection of men. The only way Charity could really be free from her troubles was to strike it rich.

  Her shoulders sagged. As if that was going to happen. Two months living where the gold was within reach, she just knew it, and she had yet to find time to pan for it.

  “What’s got you all in a dither?” Mabel set a stack of plates next to the basin.

  “Gabriel’s Bible verses.”

  “Ah.” Mabel grabbed a dishtowel. “You don’t agree.”

  “Nope. A bunch of foolishness.” Charity scrubbed a pot hard enough to splash water and soak the front of her dress. Maybe a wet front would cool her down.

  “As soon as I saw the Bible in his hand, I wondered how you were going to respond.” Mabel dried the pan Charity had washed. “Gabe is a God-fearing man, Charity. Whether you share his beliefs or not might be the deciding factor as to what happens come springtime.”

  She was well aware of that fact, but she couldn’t accept a loving God for no one. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe, but rather she didn’t believe God cared for her. Some people were not good enough for God. No matter how hard she tried, Charity would not be considered one of the good ones. She was too hot-tempered and unsubmissive.

  “People are allowed to believe what they want. What I want to know is what the two men were conversing about.”

  “Hiram still won’t say.” Mabel reached for another plate. “I’m thinking Gabe won’t say either?”

  “Not a word. Told me it wasn’t something women needed to worry about.”

  “And that sat with you like a tick, didn’t it?” Mabel chuckled. “As life goes on, you’ll learn to let some things slide. Pick your battles, I always say. You’ll figure out your man’s secrets soon enough.”

  “Gabriel isn’t my man.” Charity washed the last plate and handed it over. She would like him to be her husband as a man should, but didn’t think there was a man out there for her.

  She glanced out the window. Hiram and Gabriel stood in close conversation again, studying something in Gabriel’s hand. “You’re one of the lucky ones, Mabel. Not every man can be like your Hiram. You can tell he loves you more than the air he breathes. It’s in his eyes.”

  Mabel clapped her on the shoulder. “That is the truth, my dear. But God made a man for every woman. Give it time.” She bustled outside, leaving Charity to ponder her words.

  11

  Amos gr
inned as he knocked the rail from the posts. After mounting his horse, he cracked his whip over the cattle’s heads and urged them out of the valley and into the next. He wasn’t stealing them. Amos knew the penalty for thievery. He just wanted to set Gabe back a bit on achieving his goal. Lay claim to this lush land Maggie once slaved over. Land that should have been Amos’s after she died. Prime land with hills and valleys and a creek that never ran dry.

  One of the cows balked, and Amos flicked the whip across its back. If Gabe took advantage of the free range, he might not know for a day or two that his cattle was missing. Ever since Amos destroyed part of the fence a year ago, Gabe had kept them penned. Now, Amos had to sneak a little closer. If Gabe ever got a dog, he’d have to find another way to antagonize and slow the man down.

  Once his marriage of convenience was over, Amos would rub salt in the wound by courting the newest Mrs. Williams. Then, he’d find a way to lay claim to Maggie’s children, and his family would be complete. Gabe Williams would be where Amos is now. Alone and bitter.

  He had thought the fire would take care of things. With the loss of his tobacco tin, it didn’t take an overly smart man to figure out who had set the blaze. Proving it, though. That was another thing. Let Gabe come confront him. He’d welcome the challenge.

  Maybe revenge would heal the ache in Amos’s heart over losing Maggie.

  ###

  “Cattle’s gone.” Gabriel grabbed his rifle from the over the fireplace. “I’ll be gone most of the day. Keep the young’uns close to home.”

  Charity glanced up from her mending, her heart skittering. “Do you need help?”

  “Can you ride?” He paused by the door, glancing over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

  She shook her head.

  “Then you’re best suited to stay here minding Meg and Sam.” He slapped his hat on his head and stormed out.

  Charity needed to add learning to ride to her never-ending list of things she needed to accomplish. She poked the needle through the knee of Sam’s britches hard and jabbed her finger. She hissed and stuck the injured appendage in her mouth, then paused. With Gabriel gone, she could take the children panning for gold!

  “Come on children, we’re going for a walk.” Charity glanced outside to make sure they heard her, then moved to gather the makings of a simple lunch. What else would she need? Water, a pan, a sifter. She gathered everything in a blanket and hoisted the pack over her shoulder before heading outside.

  “Where we going?” Sam sat Patches in the house and closed the door.

  “To find some gold.”

  “Yippee!” Meg clapped her hands.

  “Pa said there ain’t any.” Sam cocked his head. “He’s going to be mad at you.”

  What else was new? “We’ll be home before he is.” It wasn’t like they were being devious, exactly. Gabriel had never come right out and said Charity couldn’t look for gold. He’d told her to watch the children. She could do both.

  “Now, we’ll follow the creek aways upstream and start there. We’ll have fun.”

  “Why do you want to do this, anyway?” Sam took the blanket pack from her. “Pa buys everything we need.”

  Charity bit her tongue to keep from blurting out the fact she wouldn’t be with them by this time next year and needed to provide a living for herself. She really did not want to do laundry anymore and fend off the unwanted advances from dirty men. “More money always helps.”

  They trudged through the ash and burned grass until they left the area around the house. Slowly, black became brown as evidence from the fire faded from view to be replaced by signs of the drought. The dry grass rasped against the hem of Charity’s dress and poked at her legs. The aspens upstream drooped from lack of water.

  Clouds overhead promised rain in the near future, leaving the air heavy with humidity. Charity picked up the pace and sloshed across a creek that almost reached Meg’s waist. It must have already been raining in the mountains for the creek to be so high.

  The clouds had been there since yesterday and still hadn’t dropped their load in the valley. Who was to say it would happen on that particular day? Other than her ill luck. From their weight and the grey curtain in the distance, the rain poured higher in the mountains, refreshing the thirsty land. They would need to be careful crossing the creeks.

  Charity and the children walked for an hour before Charity’s leg throbbed, and she figured they had gone far enough. The creek they stopped at bubbled clear and strong from a fissure under some rocks. Underground brooks were known to hold gold—she thought she had heard that somewhere, maybe from miners talking around the table at the diner.

  After Sam dropped the pack, she dug out the simple sandwiches. They would need to eat so they would have the strength to pan. “I’ll work here with this tin plate. You two work at stirring up the bottom.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Sam wanted to know.

  “Take off your shoes and splash around.”

  “We’ll get wet.”

  Charity sighed. “It’s hot enough that you’ll be all right.” The boy was just like his father, having no idea how to have fun. Life had to be more than hard work, surely, even on the prairie.

  Leaving her shoes on the bank, Charity tucked her skirt up into the waist of her apron and waded into the frigid water. Pinpricks of ice shot through her feet and calves and numbed the burn on her leg. Panning was going to be hard work.

  She scooped the fine silt from the bottom of the creek into her pan and swirled it, losing everything in the current. The next time, she slowed down and repeated the process, letting the water slop out gradually over the rim of the pan. The silt washed away with the water, but heavier bits settled in the bottom, and at last fine particles of yellow showed. She knew there was gold! “Look, you two.”

  Sam and Meg clustered around her. “Wow,” Sam said. “We’re rich.”

  Charity giggled. “Not yet, but it’s promising.”

  Thunder rumbled. No! It couldn’t rain. Not today. They needed to hurry.

  She glanced to where Sam and Meg laughed and splashed each other with cupped hands. They kicked, sending water flying into the air. She should have brought them here days ago.

  As more flakes appeared in her plate, Charity’s spirits rose, even as her back ached from the strain of bending. Finally, life was letting her have the upper hand. Now that she knew where to find the shiny stuff, she would head here at every opportunity. When she could find no more gold in the creek, she’d search for those caves Sam mentioned.

  The thunder rumbled louder, clearly closer.

  Less than an hour later, with very little gold wrapped in a cloth, Charity lifted her face to the first of the raindrops. Fat plops hit the creek water, splashing as if the rain came from below as well as from above them. Lightning cut across the sky with a crack.

  Meg screamed.

  “Come on.” Charity rushed to the bank and slipped on her shoes. “We’d best hurry home.” She didn’t want them caught in a downpour. What if the creek rose further? It wouldn’t get deep enough to warrant swimming, would it? Charity couldn’t swim.

  The children rushed to do her bidding. Despite hurrying, the three of them were soon drenched as the clouds finally released their burden of rain. Charity’s shoulders slumped. Gabriel was going to kill her.

  The section of creek that had been deep enough on the way to the gold, had rose, and now ran swift. Charity and the children stopped at the bank. It couldn’t be over Meg’s waist. They should be all right. If they hurried.

  Sam splashed across, holding the blanket pack over his head, and soon made his way up the opposite bank. Charity placed her hands on Meg’s shoulders and steered her into the water.

  The water continued to rise. Charity’s heart threatened to burst free. A rush of water hit her in the chest. She glanced upstream to see a wall of water rushing toward her. Meg would never make it! With all the strength she could dredge up, Charity lifted the child and tossed her to th
e muddy creek bank. Meg fell with a sharp cry, her hands scrabbling on the steep bank for a handhold. Sam reached down and pulled her up.

  Charity’s skirts tangled around her legs. She couldn’t move. She locked eyes with Sam as another wall hit her, sweeping her feet from under her.

  ###

  Gabe found his fifty head of cattle in a meadow two hours ride from the house. It didn’t take a smart man to figure out who had removed the boards. With a yell and a crack of his whip, he steered the herd back toward home as lightning crashed overhead.

  He needed to cut the drive short by speeding them toward home. With the fire-ravished land and ground hard from no rain, a storm could cause the creek to rise to a disastrous level, not to mention the danger of land erosion. Charity most likely wouldn’t know what to do or where he kept the sandbags.

  The cattle bellowed as thunder ripped the sky. Gabe urged them faster. Building the sod house so near the creek might not have been his best idea, but he was planning for the future, intending to use the modest structure to prevent rising waters from getting to the new place. He’d filled sandbags and stacked them in the barn, just in case, and had only needed them once before. When the rising creek flooded the rattlers from their hiding places, thus resulting in Maggie’s death, he’d sworn never to be caught unawares again. Yet, here he was, away from home, and a killer storm rolling through.

  “Yah!” He cracked his whip over the back of the nearest steer and kicked Rogue into a gallop.

  By the time he herded the cattle back into the enclosure and temporarily fixed the fence, the rain poured from his hat like a curtain. He shivered against the rivulets running down the back of his collar. Sitting by a warm fire, surrounded by Charity and the children, sounded mighty good. Most likely Charity would have a fine stew simmering on the stove. He turned Rogue toward the barn.

  After rubbing the horse down, Gabe dashed across the muddy yard and burst into an empty house. No fire. No children. No Charity. Where in the world could she have taken them on a day like today? He turned and squinted outside, peering through the downpour.