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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Bless you, Mabel. You’re a dear friend.” Charity allowed herself to be babied and enjoyed the feeling. It had been so long since someone tenderly cared for her. Once she lay on her back, a thick quilt pulled to her chin, her eyes drifted shut.

  She couldn’t help but wish she still lay in Gabriel’s bed.

  ###

  Stupid savages! Amos yanked his horse’s reins. He had hired them to do one simple thing; take care of Gabe Williams. Not only did they let him escape, but that fiery wife of his, too. Now, they would be more wary, and Gabriel and Charity were back at home. Sure they looked a little worse for wear, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.

  Amos hadn’t meant to kill anyone. The death of the Indian maiden could cause problems in the long run. He needed to think on a solution to that problem. Who knew she would be picking berries in the woods so close to the Williamses’s homestead, or would be frightened by a little gunfire? Where had she come from anyway? Most of the Indians were long gone to their winter campgrounds.

  He shrugged. Maybe she was part of a hunting party. He didn’t believe in killing women. No matter what race they were and didn’t much like killing men either, but sometimes a man had to do what he needed in order to get what belonged to him.

  Hopefully, her people would blame Gabe and not go looking for someone else. The Crow could be violent enough when riled, and he didn’t cotton to an all out war because of an accident.

  Why couldn’t anything go as planned? He kicked his horse, spurring it faster as sight of his barn came into view. He had wasted an entire day and night watching the Williamses’s homestead. If he wanted something done right, he would have to do it himself, and he was running out of ideas.

  ###

  Charity stretched. Cold air brushed her bare arms, alerting her to the crisp dawn. Sunlight streamed through the window and low murmurs came from the other side of the curtain. She’d overslept, resulting in the others doing her chores. She grinned. Almost like her first morning beneath this sod roof. Except Meg didn’t stare down at her today.

  Tossing back the quilt, she donned a clean dress, then slid her feet into her boots. Her body protested. When she heard Gabriel’s familiar rumble from the direction of the kitchen table, she hurried, forcing a bounce into her step that her body did not feel.

  “Good morning.” She skipped around the curtain, forcing back a wince at her back’s protest.

  Gabriel glanced up from his bowl of oatmeal. “You’re chipper this morning. Feeling all right after yesterday?”

  “Rarely better.” She kept the smile on her face as she fairly skipped to the stove. Her body hated her for the chipper movement. Mabel and the children gazed wide-eyed at her, then Mabel’s eyes narrowed. “What?” Charity demanded.

  “Nothing.” Mabel turned to the sink.

  Charity figured Mabel saw through her ruse, and they would have a conversation about it later. She plopped a heaping spoonful of oatmeal into a bowl and sat at the table. She didn’t want the others to know how much her body ached. How every breath was agony. She couldn’t tell, but if she had a full length mirror she’d guess more than a few bruises painted her skin.

  Would she do it all again? To save Gabriel or one of the children she would. There would be time for rest and recuperation after she learned to shoot, and when Gabriel left the house to work. She had no broken bones, no stitches. There was no sense in lying around like a ninny whining about her pains. Sure, her feet and back ached from her romp through the woods, she had a scratch on her face that she didn’t believe would leave a scar, and she doubted she would ever get the tangles out of her hair, but she’d survived hours inside a dead tree with a multitude of bugs. She could survive anything.

  She grinned at Gabriel and stuck a spoonful of breakfast in her mouth. He shook his head, clearly befuddled at her behavior, and returned his attention to his food.

  Her smile faded. He looked awful. The black thread of his stitches provided a dark contrast against skin paler than normal. Purple and blue bruises dotted his face like dabs from a paintbrush. A goose egg rose from his temple. He very well could have died the day before. Where would that have left Charity and the children? She definitely needed to keep a closer eye on him.

  Her hand paused on its upward travel to her mouth. How was it possible she hadn’t thought of gold in days? Her situation hadn’t changed. There was still the impending annulment. She had six, maybe seven months left to convince Gabriel she was worth keeping around, and if the chill making its way under the door was any indication, winter was fast approaching and gold mining inadvisable.

  Gabriel stood and grabbed his hat. “I’ll be back by supper.”

  “Where are you going?” Surely he didn’t intend to follow through on riding to town?

  “I need to see the sheriff.” He patted Charity’s head as if she were a child. “Don’t worry. Hiram is going with me. We’ll stop by and tend his stock first.”

  She swatted his hand away. The man could turn her mood faster than a striking snake. “As if I’m worried that you’re a fool headed off to do more damage to yourself.”

  He chuckled. “Stay out of trouble.” After planting kisses on the cheeks of both children, he tossed Charity a wink and left.

  “That is the most infuriating man.” She carried her bowl to the sink. “A knot on his head the size of Ireland, and he’s bent on riding half a day’s journey into town to report the rowdy behavior of some Indians. Me dead ma would have clobbered him with a skillet.”

  “As if you’re any different.” Mabel shooed the children outside to do their chores. “Pretending everything is fine when every move you make pains you.”

  “Somebody has to take care of my husband. It’s obvious he is incapable of doing so himself.”

  “What really has your dander up?” Mabel turned her to face her.

  Charity took a deep breath. “I’m falling in love with my husband and the thought of losing him is comparable to losing a limb.”

  “Have you told him how you feel?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t! What if he doesn’t feel the same?” She hung her head. “You saw how he said goodbye. A pat on the head, as if I were nothing but his wee sister.” She sniffed against approaching tears. “I’m nothing but a nanny for his children and someone to help him win a bet.”

  “Oh, I think you’re worth more than that to him.” Mabel grabbed a dishtowel. “Don’t forget. The long winter months are coming. You’ll be thrust together twenty-four hours a day.”

  And that thought terrified Charity. There would be no way of hiding her insecurities. Her tendency toward snappishness. The real Charity O’Connell would be right in front of Gabriel Williams.

  25

  Gabe regretted his decision to ride to town by the time he’d made it halfway to Virginia City. If he had taken time to think things through, he would have waited a day or two, instead of heading out like a man without busted ribs.

  Spots swam before his eyes and sweat beaded his upper lip. He uncorked his canteen and took a large swig of water. Maybe if he ignored the pain it would go away. He refused to let Charity know she was right. He would keep his head up, inform the sheriff of yesterday’s happenings, then slump his way home, only to lift his head again before walking through the door.

  As if he could tell what Gabe was thinking, Hiram laughed. “You’re a stubborn man, Gabe Williams.”

  “Can’t disagree.” He slung the canteen back over his saddle horn. “And I’ve got a wife that has me beat in the stubborn department.”

  “It really sticks in your craw that Charity rescued you yesterday and not the other way around, doesn’t it?” Hiram handed him a slice of jerky.

  Gabe smirked and accepted the food. “A bit. A man is supposed to take care of his woman. Those Indians had me trussed up like a turkey, and she managed to get them to allow her to use the necessary. Even savages aren’t immune to her charms, it seems.”

  “Marriage is a partnership, Gabe. That’s the way th
e good Lord created it.” Hiram tore off a bite of the dried meat with his teeth, then continued talking with his mouth full. “Take me and Mabel for example. Cooped up all winter long with a woman who talks more than a mockingbird is not an easy task. Yet, I nod and grunt and she’s happy to bustle around me like a momma chicken. Let Charity fuss. You’re still the man, and I’d say it’s a mite harder to sit quiet and let the womenfolk go on and on than it is to strut our stuff.” He took another bite of jerky.

  Gabe couldn’t remember a time when Hiram talked so much. But, the man made a good point. Charity was so different from Maggie, he really hadn’t known what to expect.

  He shook his head. That wasn’t entirely true. He had expected her to be just as quiet and submissive as his first wife, but he thanked God she wasn’t. Life took an interesting turn the day he married Charity.

  He rolled his shoulders and focused on the road into Virginia City. Townsfolk darted here and there in a rush to purchase supplies to get them through the winter. Dust hovered about a foot off the ground. With the dark clouds overhead, it gave the scene a warm sepia-tone.

  He sighed. He still hadn’t filled his smokehouse. What, with one thing or another, if he weren’t careful, they wouldn’t have enough meat to last, unless he butchered a cow. He didn’t want to do that until his herd was bigger. And, there was the looming reminder that it would take a miracle for him to complete the house on time.

  Maybe God was trying to tell Gabe something. When was the last time the family sat together for a Bible reading? Maybe once since Charity arrived. How was he going to convince her of God’s love if he didn’t subject her to The Word? Sure, they did most of their reading during the long winter months, but why? Couldn’t they start a new tradition of spending relaxing time together every evening? He vowed to start as soon as he returned home.

  Before he reached the sheriff’s office, Amos Jenkins stepped off the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the saloon. Gabe gritted his teeth at the desire to run the other man down in the street like the dog he was.

  “Easy, Gabe.” Hiram stopped beside him. “Let the law handle things.”

  “The law ain’t doing anything.”

  “We don’t have enough proof. With proof even Sheriff Spraggins would have to act.”

  “How am I supposed to have proof Amos coerced a handful of renegade Indians into kidnapping me and Charity? It isn’t as though I had them sign a note or anything.” Had the man gone loco? “It won’t hurt to let the sheriff know I’m on to Amos, and that I know he’s in Amos’s back pocket.”

  “Nope. Won’t hurt to tell the sheriff what happened.”

  They pulled in front of the sheriff’s office and dismounted to hitch the horses to the nearby railing. Gabe knew he wasted his time. Sheriff Spraggins wouldn’t do a blamed thing, but Gabe would feel better telling him he knew what Amos was doing.

  With Hiram close behind, Gabe shoved through the door and clomped across the plank floor to where the sheriff leaned back in his chair, napping. Gabe gripped the chair leg and pulled it back to all fours.

  Spraggins sputtered and leaped to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Filing a complaint. A man can still do that around here, can’t he?”

  “Against who? What happened to you?” Spraggins narrowed his eyes. “You look like you were in a fight.”

  “I was.” Gabe crossed his arms. “With some renegade Indians. I want you to go after them.”

  Spraggins plopped back in his chair. “Nope. I ain’t interfering with Injuns. They are unpredictable. Stay out of their way, and they’ll leave you alone.”

  Heat rose up Gabe’s neck, and he slapped both palms flat on the top of the sheriff’s scarred desk. “My wife and I could’ve died, sheriff! Not to mention, I found a dead girl up on my property. It’s up to you to do something. Besides, my gut tells me they were hired.”

  “By who? Are you trying to tell me that your paranoia about Amos Jenkins leads you to believe…”

  “Paranoia!” If not for Hiram’s restraining hand, Gabe might very well have launched himself over the top of the desk and strangled Spraggins.

  The man sneered. “I suggest you leave before I arrest you for something. I have work to do.”

  “Yeah, work as important as staring at the back of your eyelids.” Gabe shoved away and stormed outside. His gaze landed on Amos exiting the saloon. In twenty long strides, Gabe reached the man and landed a sharp uppercut on his jaw. Amos crumpled like a felled tree and blinked up at him.

  “You want to tangle with me, fine.” Gabe bent over him. “But you leave Charity out of it. She’s done nothing to you.”

  Amos rubbed his jaw. “You’re plumb loco. You can’t accost a man with no reason.”

  “I have plenty of reason, and you know it.” Yet, the man was right. Gabe shouldn’t have punched him. If Amos wanted to, he could press charges against him, and Gabe would spend a night or two in jail.

  What kind of a spiritual witness did he leave knocking even his enemy to the ground? Didn’t God ask that man love his enemies? Although it galled him, Gabe held out his hand. “My apologies. I should not have hit you.”

  Amos stared at the offered hand for a moment, then slapped it away. “Apology not accepted. I know you Bible thumpers expect folks to forgive you, but not this time. You have no proof I had anything to do with them Indians. The sheriff and half this town are on my side. ”

  Gabe slowly lowered his hand. “What makes you think I’m here about Indians? I never said anything to you about that.”

  ###

  Shooting was harder than she thought. Charity lifted the heavy rifle again and took aim at the stump in front of her. Learning to load the gun was easy, but actually hitting her target was something else. Sam had given up on her an hour ago, choosing instead to wrestle in the dirt with Prince.

  Occasionally Mabel would stick her head out of the house and yell something about a waste of good ammunition, and that Charity should have her husband teach her. Still, Charity persevered. She would learn to shoot and do it well. Even if her shoulder did feel as if it had been kicked by a mule.

  “Come on, Ma.” Sam tapped her shoulder. “You’ve been at it all day. It’s almost suppertime, and Pa will be home soon. Besides, you’re going through his ammo like it’s water poured out of a glass.”

  Charity sighed. They were right. She shouldn’t waste something they would need for providing food. “I’m coming.”

  She glanced at the heavy clouds. Snow would fall within a day or two. Maybe not a lot at first, but soon, they’d be stuck in the soddy. Charity shrugged. She had plenty of quilt scraps and yarn to keep her hands busy, clothes to sew for two growing children, and a husband who seemed to split his at the seams. Maybe she ought to make his next shirt a mite bigger.

  She smiled at the sight of the dogs romping across the yard. Their little home would be busting at the seams during the winter months, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The sound of horse hooves drifted on the afternoon breeze. Charity shielded her eyes. Gabe and Hiram trotted toward the barn. Hitching her skirt, Charity hurried to the house. The men would be hungry.

  “Men are here.” She grabbed an apron from a nearby hook. The tantalizing, rich aroma of chicken stew filled the soddy. She took great satisfaction in knowing the vegetables came from a garden she tended.

  While Meg set plates on the table, Charity gave the stew a stir and checked the biscuits in the oven. She enjoyed having Mabel around, but it would be nice when she and Hiram headed home in the morning. The kitchen wasn’t big enough for two cooks.

  By the time the men came in—Gabe favoring his side, the stubborn man—the table was set and the children’s faces washed. Gabe took his seat at the head of the table and motioned for Hiram to sit opposite him.

  Charity looked long and hard at Gabe’s scowling face. He caught her looking and shook his head, signaling they would talk later. Sure they would. Just like all
the other conversations waiting to be had.

  “I’m taking Sam hunting tomorrow,” Gabe said. “Snow is coming, and the smokehouse is low. I don’t want to eat only pigs and chickens all winter.”

  “A deer would be nice.” Charity reached for the serving spoon. “Maybe a turkey and a goose for the holidays.”

  “If you’re hard up for food,” Hiram said, grabbing a biscuit. “Just come on by. We’ve plenty, and we know you’ve been set back a bit what with all that’s been happening.”

  “Ma’s been target shooting,” Sam offered. “Used a lot of ammo. Still can’t hit the side of a barn, though.”

  “What?” Gabe’s frown deepened. “And we will have plenty of food, Hiram.”

  “Well, I, uh, thought I should learn to shoot and help gather meat.” Charity carefully ladled stew onto her plate. “And, I can help guard the homestead when you’re away.”

  “What is it with everyone?” Gabe tossed his spoon in his food. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of my family.”

  “No one is saying otherwise,” Hiram said. “Mabel knows how to shoot and often brings home a squirrel or two. Makes things easier on me.”

  “That’s right, Gabe. Especially when a rabbit or something gets into my garden.” Mabel nodded. “Then I’m more than happy to take care of the situation and not have to wait on Hiram.”

  “That isn’t why Charity wants to learn.”

  “It isn’t?” Charity’s spoon paused half-way to her mouth.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Nope. You think you need to learn how to shoot in order to protect this family. You saved me from the Indians, and now, I’m incapable of keeping the rest of you from harm.”

  Charity took a deep breath and rested the utensil on her plate. It was a good thing they had company because it kept her from loosing her tongue on her mulish husband. “You must be in pain, Gabriel, because you are speaking nonsense.”