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

by Cynthia Hickey

  What did he want with her? Was he alone? She craned to see around him.

  “I brought horse.”

  Mercy! “I’m not going anywhere with you.” He was going to take her away. Maybe make her one of his squaws. Her legs trembled, and she placed a hand on the table to steady herself. She should have stayed in the city! Indians didn’t roam the city streets, unless they were a hired scout.

  Where were the children? She straightened her shoulders. If going with Red Feather insured their safety, then go with him she would. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

  He scratched his head, which most likely crawled with lice, Charity shuddered at the thought, and he stared at her for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “Pale woman with fire hair funny.” He crooked his finger. “Come with me. We find Gabriel.”

  Gabriel? “What did you do to my husband?” She advanced with the knife held out in front of her. She’d never made another person bleed but thought she could, if she had to.

  His grin faded. “You come with me. Gabriel explain Red Feather is friend.”

  Now, she’d made him angry. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Most likely he’d lure her outside, ravish her, then scalp her and leave as crow food.

  He motioned her forward again. “Come.”

  ###

  Gabe stepped inside the house. His eyes widened at the sight of Charity in a stare contest, knife in hand, with Red Feather. “What’s going on?”

  “Your squaw wants to kill me.” Red Feather turned and grasped Gabe’s forearm in greeting. “She brave woman.”

  “Yes, she is.” He grinned. “Put the knife down, Charity. Red Feather is my friend.”

  “I brought pony,” Red Feather said.

  “Wonderful. Come on, Charity. We have a gift for you.” Gabe waved Red Feather out ahead of him. What did Charity think she could do with a little pig sticker like the knife in her hand? She sure was cute standing in a defensive pose with her face all red and her hair coming loose from its bun. He wanted to grab her close and hug her tight. Instead, he opted for taking the knife from her hand and setting it on the table.

  Keeping a wary eye on Red Feather, Charity bustled outside then stuck like a burr under a saddle to Gabe’s side as they approached the back of the house. He couldn’t wait for her to see what Red Feather brought.

  They rounded the corner, and Charity gasped. A cinnamon-colored mare with a black mane and tail ripped at a few blades of unburned grass, her reins looped over a fence. Charity cast shimmering eyes on Gabe. “For me?”

  “Isn’t she a beauty?” Just like her mistress. Gabe scratched behind the horse’s ears. “I traded Red Feather a milk cow for her.”

  “She’s gorgeous. I’m going to call her Ruby.” Charity rubbed her hand over the horse’s muzzle. “But I can’t ride.”

  “I’ll teach you.” Gabe leaned against the fence. “It’s a skill everyone should know out here.”

  Her look grew pensive. “There’s so much to know out here.”

  “It’s only been a couple of months. You’re doing great.” He turned to Red Feather. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “If you tire of your woman, I will give you back the cow for her,” Red Feather offered.

  “Tempting, but no thanks.” Gabriel patted her head, eliciting a squawk of protest from Charity. “But I think we’ll keep her around for a while.”

  Red Feather nodded and loped away.

  “Keep me around for a while?” Charity planted fists on her hips.

  “I had to say something. It wouldn’t seem strange to him to trade you.”

  “Couldn’t you have just said no?”

  “Most likely, but my way was more fun. Would you like to start learning to ride now?” Gabe itched to shove back the loose strands of hair from Charity’s face. When had he begun to feel as if she were more than just someone to watch over his children? He didn’t want to love another woman, not that that was how he felt at the moment. He couldn’t allow himself to love again. Already, Charity’s life had been endangered twice. His heart couldn’t take another loss like he’d suffered with Maggie.

  “All right.” Charity took a deep breath. “What do I do first?”

  “There’s a stump by the corral that will be perfect as a mounting block.” He unlooped Ruby’s reins and led the horse to the stump. “Step on this, insert your left foot in the stirrup, and swing your right leg over.”

  She glanced skeptically at him, then hitched her skirts and took her place on the sawed off block of wood. Grasping the saddle horn, she swung her leg high and . . . fell backward.

  Gabe caught her and rolled, shielding her from the brunt of the hard landing. As he lay catching his breath, he couldn’t help but notice how soft Charity felt lying on his chest. His arms tightened. What if he kissed her? Would she slap him? Their gazes locked. She smelled like soap and sunshine. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and prepared to see what her lips tasted like.

  “Are you all right?” Charity shifted against his hold. “Did I hurt you?”

  Did the woman have to talk so much? Gabe groaned inwardly. “I’m fine.” He released his hold and waited while she got to her feet before getting to his. “Don’t swing your leg so high. Just up and over.”

  “I told you I didn’t know how to ride.” She flounced back to the stump. “But I’m determined to learn.”

  Of that, Gabe had no doubt. She had conquered every task she had undertaken so far.

  The next time she went to throw her leg over the saddle, Gabe was prepared. He placed his hands on her waist and kept her steady. She glanced over her shoulder and glared, eliciting a laugh from him. She sure was fun to rile.

  Sam and Meg had claimed seats on the corral fence and clapped as Charity trotted the horse into the pen, her hair coming fully out of her bun by the jostling.

  “Tighten your grip with your thighs, but don’t squeeze, and keep your feet in the stirrups.” Gabe crossed his arms and leaned against the top rail. “Feel the horse move.”

  “How do I tighten without squeezing?” She shrieked as Ruby increased her pace. “I need a pillow for the saddle, I feel her moving so much. ’Tis a very hard saddle.”

  Gabe laughed and vaulted over the fence. He grabbed the reins. “I’ll lead her. You concentrate on getting a feel for the horse. Close your eyes, and let your other senses take over.”

  She sighed and did as he said. “I smell horse, burned grass, and cattle.”

  “Feel, Charity.” He jogged around the perimeter of the corral. By the time he was winded, she wasn’t bouncing quite so much and had a smile on her face. “Good job. I think that’s enough for today.”

  “Thank heaven.”

  “Wait.” Gabe dropped the reins and tried to catch Charity before she hit the ground. Too late. She landed in a pile of green calico and petticoats. “Your legs aren’t ready for you to dismount by yourself.”

  “Really?” Her eyes sparked. “Guess I figured that one out.” She held out a hand for him to pull her to her feet. “Me legs are wobbly. I’m going to rinse the laundry. Something I do know how to do.”

  He loved how her brogue deepened when she was angry. It was almost like she tried to squelch her accent the rest of the time. As if she were ashamed to be Irish. It was a pity, but he had heard stories of how the Irish were treated back east. Obviously, her family had gotten a taste of the bigotry.

  “Meg rides better than you, Ma.” Sam hopped from the fence. Gabe shot him a “hush” look, but the boy kept talking. “How is it that a full-grown woman can’t ride a horse? Didn’t you have horses where you came from?”

  “Where I came from?” Charity scowled.

  “I’m guessing you’re from across the ocean. You talk funny most of the time.”

  Charity increased her pace to the house. Sam kept up with her, with Gabe chuckling behind them, holding Meg’s hand.

  “I suppose I could help you learn in between my chores. Pa’s too busy to spend a lot of time on a greenh
orn.” Sam halted. “But I can’t give you a boost like Pa did. You’ll have to learn to get on by yourself.”

  Charity practically ran into the house and slammed the door.

  “What did I say?” Sam turned.

  “She did the best she could, son. It sounded like you were giving her a hard time for struggling so.” Gabe clapped him on the shoulder as he strolled by.

  Sam jogged next to him. “I wasn’t, I swear. Why are womenfolk so touchy?”

  “You’ll have to ask God that someday, son.”

  ###

  After weeks of daily riding lessons, Charity’s muscles complained less, and she bounced less in the saddle, resulting in less sore places on her body. Meg and Sam cheered the first time Ruby trotted around the corral without Charity falling off. She might not be an expert, but at least she could stay on the horse’s back. The sense of accomplishment at mastering the skill kept her skipping through the day.

  She couldn’t believe Gabe had gone to the trouble of getting her a horse. And he gave up a prized cow in order to do so! Charity was a blessed woman indeed. She hoped she could take the gentle mare with her when she left in a few months and wondered whether that would be proper, considering the horse was a gift to help her station as Gabriel’s wife.

  She slipped into the barn and pulled a carrot from the pocket of her apron. She’d taken to visiting Ruby each afternoon, after chores and before supper preparations. Something about the gentle nickering and nuzzles helped fill the empty spaces in Charity’s heart that ached to be filled with affection. Between the pets and the children, the loneliness dropped away more each day.

  She held the carrot out to the horse and rubbed a hand up and down Ruby’s muzzle while the horse munched. “Funny, how a four-legged creature has become my best friend. Thought it might be Patches, but then you came along and stole me heart.” Charity laid her forehead against Ruby’s.

  If only Gabriel seemed as happy to spend time with her as Ruby did. Or the children. Or the cat. The man wolfed down breakfast each morning and dashed out the door, not to be seen again until suppertime. If Charity wanted to see him, it was up to her to find a way, mostly in the form of taking water or food to him.

  Charity gave Ruby a pat then moved to look out the barn door. Bits of green poked through the blackened dirt. The creek had returned to its normal depth, and birds to the branches of the skeletal aspens. She glanced upstream. Dare she make another attempt at the gold? Who knew when Gabriel would leave the homestead again for hours at a time? Lately, he’d stuck around like glue on a shoe, hanging from the roof of the new house, or working around the barn. She loved seeing him around, but winter would arrive soon and put an end to any opportunity of gold panning.

  Winter. Shut inside with her husband. He’d almost kissed her that first day of learning to ride, she knew it. But she’d gotten scared and jumped off him as if he would bite her. Foolishness. If she wanted him to ask her to stay, she would have to win him with womanly ways. That would more than likely involve kissing, something Charity had no skill at either, having never been kissed. A miner tried once, and she’d smacked him with her broom until he ran for the hills.

  She glanced to the back of the house where Gabriel cut hay with a scythe. He swung the tool, muscles rippling. She definitely wanted him to try kissing her again, and the next time she’d let him.

  14

  Charity lay in bed and listened to the wind howl. Heavens, it sounded as if it would rip the door off its hinges. She pulled the quilt higher and turned her head to check on Meg who slept despite the noise. Charity shivered. The air felt mighty cold for an August morning.

  The last thing she wanted to do was get up and cook breakfast. But, being a married woman and a mother, she couldn’t consider her time her own. She tossed aside the blankets and hurriedly dressed, donning a tattered sweater over her green work dress. After hurriedly twisting her hair into a bun, she was ready to begin her day.

  “Good morning,” she told Gabriel, who started a fire in the fireplace. “It’s cold.”

  “Unusual weather for August, but not entirely unheard of.” He straightened and reached for his coat. “Cattle are out again. I’ll be gone most of the day.” He speared her with a glance. “This time, keep the children close to home. It might snow.”

  “Snow?” She sped to the window. Heavy slate-colored clouds covered the sky. The aspen trees danced as if to fast fiddler music. “But we haven’t gone to town for our winter supplies.” How would they make it through the winter? Not to mention she was nowhere near ready to be confined to the cabin with Gabriel for months.

  “If it does snow, it won’t last. We’ll have to go to town as soon as it melts.”

  “Do you want me to pack you a meal?” Charity grabbed her shawl from the back of the rocking chair and draped it over her shoulders. Despite the fire, the outer edges of the room carried a definite chill.

  “I grabbed some jerked venison and the canteen. I’ll be fine.” He slapped his hat on his head and wrenched open the door. The wind ripped it from his hand and slammed it back into the wall.

  He wouldn’t have to worry about Charity and the children venturing out in such fierce weather. They’d occupy themselves inside with schooling and the kitten. It might not officially be winter yet, but schooling was a good idea any time. “Will Ruby be all right in the barn?”

  “Ruby and Sam’s pony will be fine.” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed.

  The wind continued to howl, ebbing and increasing in volume until Charity wanted to join in with screams of her own. The children continued to sleep, and she allowed them to rest as long as they wanted. With them out of her hair, she could work on sewing their Christmas clothes from a green velvet cloak she’d found in their mother’s trunk.

  Fetching the item, she carried it to the rocker, and sat, rubbing her hand over the soft fabric. She would love to keep it for herself, never having owned something so fine, but the cloak belonged to their mother. She had no right to keep it. It would make a lovely vest for Sam and a dress for Meg.

  She had nothing to wear herself for the holiday, nor fabric to make Gabriel a shirt. She thought of the money in the pouch stashed in her own trunk from her laundering days. There would be more than enough for fabric and Christmas gifts. She grinned, envisioning the toys she would purchase. She could replenish the gold when the weather cleared. Especially since she now knew where to pan.

  While the wind continued to batter their home, and the children snored softly, Charity cut out the needed pieces from the fabric and giggled as Patches played with the scraps. The fire eventually warmed the inside of the soddy, and Charity could almost forget about Gabriel out in the storm. Almost.

  With each rattle of the door, her heart stopped. With each roar of the wind, her blood chilled. The clock on the mantle continued to tick tock its way to daylight.

  When the children began to wake, Charity shoved her work back into the chest and bustled to the stove. Cooked oats would warm them and keep them satisfied for a while.

  She mixed the oats with heated milk while the children grumbled about the cold and layered their clothing. Charity shook her head. August, and it was freezing! She had lived in Virginia City for two years and never experienced this. Of course, here they lived half a day’s ride up the mountain, and in a valley to boot.

  She spooned the oatmeal into tin bowls and sprinkled a little brown sugar on top. “Breakfast!”

  “It’s snowing!” Meg passed the table and sprinted to the window. She threw open the shutters. “Look, Ma. It’s Christmas!”

  “Not yet, it isn’t.” Charity joined her. The white flakes failed to bring Charity joy. Her worry over Gabriel overshadowed the beauty of the moment. At least the wind had died down. She put an arm around Meg. “Come eat.”

  Who kept letting Gabriel’s cattle loose? No wonder her husband didn’t take advantage of free range. She’d wondered why he insisted on keeping his cattle in a fenced valley. If someone kep
t sabotaging his work, he’d be broke in a week. There’d been no more mention of the wager he’d spoken of on their wedding day, but something drove the man almost to the breaking point in finishing the new house. Sooner or later, Charity intended to sit him down and talk about the situation. The more she got to know her husband, the more difficult it was to believe him to be a gambling man. Yet, he wasn’t a liar. His actions had spoken for theirself.

  ###

  Gabe pulled the collar of his coat higher on his neck and hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. Every time someone let his cattle out, they seemed to drift to the same valley. If not for that, he’d be at his wits end. As it was, he knew exactly where to begin searching in the blowing snow. Already, an inch of white powder obscured any tracks.

  Although he had no proof Amos was behind the happenings on his homestead, Gabe intended to visit the sheriff when they made their trip to town. He still had the tobacco tin hidden in the barn.

  Having vied with Gabe for Maggie’s hand didn’t give the man the right to sabotage their agreement. It needed to be a fair fight. Gabe would die before he willingly let the land go to Amos. He’d make the improvements agreed on before the deadline. If not, where would he and Maggie’s young’uns go?

  The thought had occurred to him that Amos might even try taking the children, considering he was a distant cousin of Maggie’s, but so far, other than wanting the land, the man hadn’t said anything. Still, to be on the safe side, Gabe would do everything in his power to meet the other man’s terms drawn up in that ridiculous contract between Amos and Maggie. He refused to lose his land or the children he loved as his own.

  Snow continued to fall. The stillness surrounded Gabe, making him feel as if he were the only person left on the mountain. He shivered. The snow would melt in a day or two, and summer would return, but right now it felt as though he’d never be warm again.

  He caught a glimpse of brown among the white and steered Rogue in that direction. Sure enough, his cattle stood, heads hanging, in the same valley he’d found them in the last time. Gabe unfurled his whip and cracked it over their heads to start them home.