Sam and Meg raced toward him. Gabe ran to meet them, scooped Meg into his arms and ushered Sam into the house. “Where’s Charity?”
“The creek took her, Pa.” Sam swiped his forearm across his dripping brow. Water pooled on the floor under his feet.
“I don’t understand.” Took her? Did Sam mean she was gone? “Where did you three go?”
“Looking for gold,” Meg informed him. “We found some too.”
“Get some towels, sweetie.” Gabe brushed her wet hair out of her face, then turned back to Sam. “Explain quickly, son.”
“We went on a picnic and looked for gold. Ma found some. Then it started to thunder, and she said we had to get home. When we crossed where the creek bends and widens, Ma was swept down river.” Tears poured down his face. “We were all crossing together, then we heard a loud noise. Ma picked Meg up and threw her onto the bank. When we looked back, she was gone. I tried to find her, Pa, I did.”
Gabe pulled him into his arms. “You did what you could. I’ll find her. What I’d like for you to do now, is pile sand bags in front of the house. If the water gets too far, take your sister to the top of the sod roof. Can you do that? If I’m not back by morning, ride your pony to Hiram and Mabel. They’ll watch out for you.”
Sam nodded.
“Good boy.” Gabe dashed back into the rain and to the barn to fetch Rogue. Lord, let me find her—alive, please. His heart lay as cold as the clothes on his back. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be married out here. Montana seemed determined to claim everything he considered his.
With his horse resaddled Gabe raced in the direction he believed Charity and the children had gone. Rain continued to unleash from heavy clouds, making visibility difficult. Rogue plundered heavily across rivulets and mud.
When they reached the bend Sam had described, Gabe slid from Rogue and scanned the bank. “Charity!” He’d never hear her over the pounding rain.
###
Water closed over her head as Charity lost her footing again. The icy water numbed her legs, making it impossible to stand. Her back slammed against a boulder. She fought her way to the surface, gulped air, and grasped at anything she passed on the bank that might slow her down. It wasn’t that the water was deep, but rather too swift for her to gain a footing.
Why hadn’t she learned to swim? She pushed to the surface again and grabbed for a low-hanging willow branch. Her legs ached from the frigid water. Gabriel would come for her. She just needed to hold on long enough. A log rammed into her, knocking her loose with a bruising thud. All she had to do was keep her head above water long enough to be rescued.
Maybe the current would sweep her past the homestead, where Gabriel and the children could watch her as she was swept out of reach. Umph. She rolled into a space between a rock and tree. Her skirt tangled. She tried to keep her nose and mouth clear of the water while wrapping her arms around the tree trunk. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.
###
Gabe caught a glimpse of her right before she submerged again. He raced down the bank, his eyes scanning for something long enough to hold out to her. “Charity!”
His feet slipped, sending him crashing to the ground, knocking the breath from him. Get up! He pushed to his feet and followed her bobbing form. Every time she disappeared from sight, his heart stopped, only to thunder like buffalo when he spotted her again.
Behind him, Rogue trotted like an obedient dog, for which Gabe was thankful. He didn’t want to hunt up the horse once he dragged Charity to safety. Precious time he’d need to get her in front of a warm fire and out of wet clothes. The day might be hot, but the mountain runoff could be like ice.
She lodged against the bank, and Gabe almost cried with relief. Then her eyes closed. No, no, no, no. He jumped into the creek and gasped at the knife-cutting cold. “Charity!”
She opened her eyes and turned her head. “You came.” Her grip loosened, and she went under.
“Of course, I did.” Gabe grabbed her under the arms and fought the current, dragging her with him, until he lay panting in the mud. Keeping his arms tight around her, he willed what body heat was left in him to her. Shudders shook both their bodies.
“Come on, sweetheart. Work with me. We’ve got to get on the horse.” He sat up, keeping her against his chest.
“Can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I lost the gold.”
“That’s all right.” He got to his feet and pulled her up, propping her against Rogue. “Stay like that until I’m in the saddle.”
She nodded and slid to the ground. He refused to lose another wife because he was incapable of saving her. He jumped down and hauled her into his arms. With what strength he had left, Gabe hefted her over the horse, facedown, and climbed on behind her. He clicked to Rogue and kept him at a pace that he hoped wouldn’t be too uncomfortable for Charity.
“Come on, sweetheart. It’s not far now.” Please, God.
12
Charity’s teeth chattered so hard she bit her tongue. She closed her eyes against the pain and taste of rusted metal.
After depositing her in front of the fire and wrapping a quilt around her, Gabriel had ordered Meg to help her undress. Then he’d darted back outside, muttering something about sandbags. Charity shuddered, wanting nothing more than to curl up and get warm.
He needed to stay near the fire as much as she did. She hated to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t found her. An icy watery grave. She shivered.
Meg pushed the quilt aside and unfastened the buttons at the top of Charity’s dress. Charity stood and let the sodden mess fall to the floor, followed by her underwear. She still hadn’t replaced the ripped pair and stared down at it in embarrassment.
She grabbed her nightgown from the rocking chair, donned it, and wrapped up again in the quilt as tight as a caterpillar in its cocoon. She would never be warm again. She stretched her bare feet closer to the fire. The log popped, sending crimson embers up the fireplace and a blast of heat to Charity’s face.
Meg whimpered. Charity craned her neck. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to lose another ma.” She sniffed.
“Come here.” Charity held the blanket open. “You can help me get warm.”
Meg launched herself on Charity’s lap. “I can help.” She snuggled close. “I won’t let you die.”
Charity chuckled, breathing in the smell of little girl and wet hair. “I’m Irish. We don’t die easy. We’re much too stubborn.”
“Really?” Meg lifted her tear-stained face.
“Really.” Using the corner of the quilt, Charity tenderly wiped her cheeks. “Now close your eyes. We’ll both rest until the men get back.”
She smiled at calling Sam a man, but the young boy acted far older than his eight years. More often than not, he knew more about living on the prairie then Charity did. How was she going to walk away in a few months and leave these little ones behind—not to mention their father? He might fuss and grumble, but when one of them was in danger, he thrust himself into harm’s way to rescue them.
Tears dripped down her face, warming her skin. She had a family. Her arms tightened around Meg. One she didn’t want to let go of. Her gaze dropped to her sodden dress with its ripped pocket. And she’d lost the gold, the one thing she had that might have swayed Gabriel’s favor in her direction. It hadn’t been much, but it was a start.
Her toes burned as they warmed, sending prickles up and down legs that hurt more now than they had in the cold water. Her head pounded, and her nose ran. She wouldn’t be sick. Not in the normally hot month of July. She wouldn’t allow it. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back against the rocking chair’s headrest.
###
The rain stopped by the time Gabe and Sam finished placing the sandbags. Gabe glanced at the mountains. The sun set behind lavender gray clouds that were pregnant with the promise of more moisture. The air felt heavy enough that a person could grab hold and wring out the
water.
If the rain quit up in the mountains too, they ought to be able to escape flooding down here. He laid a hand on Sam’s head. “You did the work of a man today, son. I’m mighty proud of you.” Sam worked too hard for a child. Maybe Charity was right by stating the children needed to play more, but life was hard on the prairie. Everyone needed to do his or her share and then some.
“Do you think this ma’s going to die like the last one?” Sam frowned, his eyes worried. “Because if she does, I don’t think you should find another one.”
“I don’t think so, but we’ll head in now, dry off, and get some coffee going to warm everyone up. What do you think about that?” It bothered Gabe that Sam didn’t seem to miss Maggie much. She hadn’t been the most affectionate of women, but she’d loved her children, and he was old enough to remember her.
“She looked really bad when you brung her home.” Sam didn’t appear to be mollified easily. “Real white. I like her. She’s funny and gives me lots of hugs.”
Gabe clamped his lips tight. How could he reassure his son when worries of his own threatened to swamp him? Maybe he should have stayed in the house instead of rushing outside to check for flooding. But Meg would have come running if Charity needed him, right?
He wasn’t used to playing doctor. Sam and Meg were rarely sick, or hurt, for that matter. God had certainly blessed them all with good health, but Charity looked frail. Pale as a cloud and thin as a flower stalk. He sighed. And as beautiful as a summer day.
“Come on, son. Let’s go in.”
He froze in the doorway at the sight of Charity and Meg, asleep, cuddled together in the rocking chair. If he was a drawing man, he would have put pencil to paper and sketched the image to keep it with him always. Something to pull out and look at, even after Charity left.
The fire set her in shadows, highlighting her hair with scarlet and gold. The quilt draped off one shapely shoulder, showing the thin nightgown she wore and setting his imagination into overdrive. Gabe tore his gaze away. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on her assets or what could be. Although she was good to the children, Charity didn’t show any signs of wanting to stay. Her goal was to find gold and skedaddle to the nearest city. Gabe had no idea what he would tell the children when the time came. More and more he second-guessed his motives, and wisdom, for marrying Charity. Not the wisest decision he’d ever made, especially since he didn’t seem capable of keeping wives alive.
Gabe moved as quietly as he could while wearing boots on a wood floor, and set a pot on the stove for coffee. “Sam, I think there’s a little cocoa left in that tin. Hand it here, and I’ll make some hot chocolate for you and your sister. Then you go change into dry clothes.”
“What about you?” Charity stirred, pulling the quilt back into place, her voice raspy from sleep. “You must be chilled.”
Gabe hurried across the room to take Meg from her lap. His hand brushed Charity’s hip and caused his pulse to soar. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Meg helped warm me.” She smoothed an errant curl from Meg’s face. “I’m hungry, too.”
Gabe laid Meg on the bed. He would wake her when the chocolate was finished. “I can heat up some leftover biscuits.”
“With some of Mabel’s jam, please.” Charity stood, her toes peeking from under the hem of her nightgown, and shuffled to the table.
Gabe’s heart lodged in his throat. “I should change.” He slipped behind the privacy quilt.
How would he make it through a long winter in close proximity to Charity? Maybe he could request that she keep her hair Then he wouldn’t be tempted to bury his face in the silky strands, or run his fingers through the length of it. Those mesmerizing green eyes were temptation enough. He would insist she keep shoes or socks on her feet, and wear a thicker nightgown. A man could only stand so much.
In dry clothes, he returned to the stove. Charity ran the tip of her finger along a groove in the table, seemingly deep in thought. What ran through her pretty head? Was she counting down the days until she was “free”?
“I’m sorry.”
He had to strain to hear her. “For what?”
“Endangering the children.” She lifted shimmering eyes. “I’d already checked our creek for gold and thought we could have an afternoon of fun farther upstream. I didn’t realize the danger of rain in the mountains.”
Gabe measured the coffee, struggling to keep his emotions in check. Her and that infernal gold! “Why are you so interested in finding gold? If there’s something you need, I’ll—”
“I won’t always be here.” Her voice trembled.
He took a deep breath. “I won’t let you leave empty handed. Besides—” he swallowed past the boulder in his throat. “You saved Meg’s life today, from what Sam says. I owe you.”
She jerked. “You want to pay me for saving Meg? What kind of woman do you take me for? What kind of person?” She stood, her knuckles white where she gripped the blanket. “Drink the coffee alone. I’m warm enough now, and I’m going to bed.”
No, he didn’t want to pay her for saving his daughter. Although it was becoming a common occurrence, it seemed, with the horse on the day they met and now the flood. No longer in the mood for coffee, he covered the pot and glanced toward the children’s beds. Fast asleep. He removed the water from the stove.
###
Hot tears stung Charity’s eyes. She turned her head to gaze on Meg’s sleeping face, barely discernible through the deepening dark in the house. How could Gabriel suggest she wanted money for caring for Meg? Her daughter? At least for a time.
He’d said many careless things over the weeks they had been wed, but this one hurt the most. Even more so when she realized he had no idea that what he’d said hurt her. Dense man.
She heard him ready for bed on the other side of the hanging blanket. A shiver skipped down her spine, reminding her of the day’s events. How would it feel to snuggle against Gabriel? He gave off heat when he stood next to her. Sleeping would only make his body heat increase. Charity rolled tighter in her blankets.
He had pulled her from the creek as if she weighed no more than Meg. Charity had felt safe in his arms, and discovered she liked the feeling. For once, she wished she had learned the practice of flirtation while growing up. Surely, Gabriel hungered for a woman’s presence in his bed. They were married, after all. It wouldn’t be immoral. If Charity were a devious woman, she could easily make it so that an annulment was impossible.
Sighing, she rolled to face the wall, the scent of damp dirt filling her nostrils. She couldn’t deceive him that way. Not with the way her heart softened toward him more each day. She blinked against the escaping tears. She’d lost the meager amount of gold panned that day and would have to start again. One obstacle after another reared in front of her, preventing her from achieving a sense of peace or accomplishing her goal.
Wait, Mabel said. But for how long? How could Charity manage being cooped in a one-room house with Gabriel through the winter? She was no stranger to Montana’s brutal snow storms. They could be snowed in for days, weeks even. With nothing to do but stare at each other.
13
Charity gathered the blankets off the bed and dragged them outside to be washed. She still didn’t follow the schedule set in place by Gabriel’s late wife, instead choosing to do chores as they needed to be done, but the work never ended.
She smiled. Why didn’t that bother her? After all, she’d married Gabriel hoping for an easier life. Instead, work had increased if that were possible. Cooking and cleaning for a family was far more satisfying than cleaning for strangers, and there were hugs to be had at the end of the day, even if they weren’t from her husband. After two years of solitary living, a family filled an empty spot in her heart and gave Charity purpose.
Hammering filled the air, drawing her attention to the new house. Gabriel knelt on freshly placed decking boards and laid shingles. She looked away before she dropped the blankets. How could he sit so high o
ff the ground? What if he lost his balance? She’d become a widow before she really became a wife. She would need to keep a close eye on Gabriel to keep him safe.
She dropped her bundle into the hot water and shaved off some soap. The children’s voices came from the barn, happy while they worked on their chores. A peaceful day. Charity lifted her face to the sun. After her chilly dunking in the creek a few days ago, she’d never complain about the sun’s heat again.
Opening her eyes, she headed back to the house for more laundry. As she stooped to gather Sam’s and Meg’s clothing from the floor beside their beds, a shadow blocked the door. She straightened and turned. An Indian ducked under the door frame, staring at her with black expressionless eyes.
Charity choked back a scream and dashed around the table. She grabbed a knife from the counter and clutched it in her sweaty hand. “Go away! I’ll cut you. I mean it.”
The Indian placed a hand on his bare chest. “I Red Feather.”
“I don’t care who you are. Go away.” Her voice rose to a shriek as her gaze traveled over buckskin britches, a bronzed chest, and up to long braided hair adorned with a single eagle’s feather with a red painted tip.
Would he scalp her? Charity put her free hand to her hair. She liked her hair. It was her one glorious feature. Her crowning glory as her mother used to say.
“I friend.” Red Feather scowled.
“Not my friend.” She stepped back. He had an odd sense of friendship, coming up behind someone and scaring them half to death. She excused his ignorance to his being a savage. Perhaps he didn’t know proper social skills, but she still didn’t want him in her house.
How much damage could she actually do with a kitchen knife? The man towered over her, almost as tall as Gabriel, with bulging muscles and a rank scent. Was it bear grease? Didn’t she read in a dime novel that Indians plastered themselves with it?
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 54
