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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Mabel watched for a moment, then wiped a tear from her eye. “I would have liked to have children. But God had other plans.”

  Charity understood God having other plans. “I’ve always wanted a family, too.” She grabbed a knife and chopped potatoes. “And for a while, at least, I do.”

  “You and Gabe still not had that talk?” Mabel opened a jar of beans and dumped them in a pan. “You ain’t any closer to letting him know you want to stay?”

  Charity glanced in the men’s direction. “I want him to want me to stay. I don’t want to ask.”

  Mabel shook her head. “Pride is the downfall of many a man, or woman.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do if Gabriel doesn’t want me.” She whacked through a potato. “Accept a proposal from one of the other men in town, I suppose. Or maybe head farther west and see what trouble I can get into. I’ve heard opportunities abound, for men and women.”

  “Marriage vows should be taken more seriously than that, Charity.” Mabel checked the water on the stove. “After all, it’s a commitment set in place by God.”

  “My vow to Gabriel is very serious.” Charity eyed her. “But, God hasn’t seen fit to make my circumstances solid and binding. I have to do the best I can.”

  Mabel shrugged. “We should cheer up. It’s Thanksgiving after all.” She grinned. “We have much to be thankful for.”

  Charity glanced back at the men and children, the animals, the snug soddy over her head. Months ago, she had been shocked to discover she would live in a hole in the ground. Now, it was home. What would Gabriel do with it once he moved into the big house? “We do.”

  ###

  Once everyone sat around the table, Gabe carried his Bible from where he kept it on the mantel. “As I did on the Fourth of July, I found verses dealing with Thanksgiving.” He took his seat at the head of the table. “Today, is a day we give thanks for God’s provision. I’d like to read the verses, then possibly, we can each say one thing we are thankful for.”

  Charity paled and ducked her head. Mabel and Hiram nodded. The children grinned.

  “I’ve been lax on reading God’s Word, and I would like to rectify that starting today. Let us bow our heads for the blessing.” Gabe cleared his throat. “Father, we come before You with Thanksgiving in our hearts. Thank You for the abundance of food before us, the roof over our heads, and the blessing of friends and family. Amen.”

  A chorus of amens rang out. Gabe opened his Bible. “O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: because his mercy endureth forever. That’s in Psalms. In Ephesians, it says, Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and finally in 1 Thessalonians, it says, In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” Gabe closed the Bible. “Sam, what do these verses mean to you?”

  “That I should be thankful for my food even though it’s growing cold.” He eyed a biscuit.

  Charity snorted and covered her mouth with her napkin.

  Gabe bit back a grin. “Yes, and I apologize. We can eat while we discuss God’s reasons for us being thankful in all things.”

  Everyone dug into their meal except for Charity, who stared at her empty plate. Gabe laid his hand over hers. “Is something bothering you?”

  She took a deep breath and met his gaze, her eyes as hard as emeralds. “Give thanks? I can understand giving thanks on a day like today when there’s plenty of food and we are warm and snug in our home, but what about the other times? What about when me Ma and Da died? Ma died sick and in pain. Da died and left me with debts from his gambling. You tell me I’m to be thankful?” She pulled her hand free and slapped the table. “That those things were God’s will for me?”

  “God has a reason for everything He does.” Gabe so wanted to comfort her, to give her the words that would soothe the pain in her heart. “We don’t always know the reason right away.” What could he say to show her God’s love? He hadn’t done a good job of being an example, although he had tried.

  “I don’t want to hear His reasons if it means losing someone I love.” She stood. “I’m sorry for raising the issue. Continue eating without me.” She grabbed her wool coat and stormed outside.

  The room remained silent for a moment. Heat rose in Gabe’s neck and face. His children looked stunned, then shrugged and went to eating.

  “I’m sorry.” Gabe hurried to follow Charity.

  He found her sitting on a hay bale in the barn, staring at the two barn cats who tussled over a mouse. The horses snuffled a welcome. Without saying anything, he sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  She sniffed. “I’m sorry for ruining everyone’s day.”

  “You didn’t. They understand. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. This is between me and God.”

  “So you do believe in God.”

  She pulled back and looked at him. “Of course I believe. Only a fool wouldn’t. My mother didn’t raise a heathen.”

  He chuckled. “Well, God can handle your anger.” He gave her a squeeze. She felt good in his arms. Her hair smelled like sunshine and lavender. A few strands pulled free of her bun and tickled his chin with silky fingers. If it weren’t freezing, he would be tempted to stay a while. “Are you ready to come back in?”

  She shook her head. “I’m embarrassed.”

  “Everyone was eating when I followed you, and I can hear your stomach growling. I’m mighty hungry myself.”

  “Fine.” She pulled her coat tighter around herself. “I need to think of an explanation for the children.”

  “Not unless they ask. Sam and Meg will come to their own conclusion based on the fact your parents are dead, and you’re sad. They lost their mother, too, remember?”

  She nodded. “All right. I’m ready.”

  ###

  Charity followed him outside. The snow fell heavier, lending a strange hush to the property. Their footsteps crunched on the way to the house. When would she take control of her pain and her temper? She hadn’t liked it that her mother to had lived in pain, taking laudanum every day. She had no control over her da’s gambling. He had made his choices, and now Charity needed to make hers. She would have to deal with the past—and the future.

  After hanging up her coat, she squared her shoulders and faced the others at the table. “I apologize. Sometimes my grief overwhelms me.” She marched to her seat and sat down before reaching for the platter of turkey.

  Mabel patted her shoulder. “We understand.”

  At that moment, surrounded by her friends and family, Charity felt more loved than she had in a very long time, and for this she was very thankful. When they continued the discussion around the table, listing the things they were thankful for, having these special people with her was at the top of her list.

  Later that night, after the Stoltzes left and everyone was in bed, she sat and stared into the fire. Gabriel’s gentle snores filled the room. Outside, the snow continued to fall. At her feet, lay the two dogs, their heads keeping her feet warm.

  Give thanks in all things. She could easily give thanks for this moment, this day, even, but the death of her parents, and the uncertainty of her future, gave her pause. She reached up and removed Gabriel’s Bible from the mantel. Caressing the worn leather cover, she wondered what treasures were hidden in the pages.

  She’d never owned one for herself, and rarely opened her ma’s. The thought of reading the book so precious to her ma had seemed sacrilegious almost. Maybe it was time. Tomorrow, she’d dig it out of her trunk and read some of the notations written in her mother’s sweet hand.

  Ma would have been shocked at Charity’s behavior at the supper table. She clutched the Bible to her chest. One look from Ma’s blue eyes would have had Charity straightening her attitude right away. Oh, she missed her so much. Da, too. He had been funny and accommodating, given to moments of drink, but how he had loved Charity. Ma had hel
d the family together.

  Charity glanced at the curtain dividing the males from the females. She had no healthy father to compare to her husband, or to God for that matter. Except for his wager, Gabriel was the complete opposite of Patrick O’Connell. Another thing for Charity to give thanks for. She smiled. Now, she thought of a long list of thanks. She replaced the Bible in its favored spot and headed to bed. Maybe she would take a few minutes to speak with God for the first time in two years.

  ###

  Amos should never have approached the house two weeks ago. Now, he’d spent the afternoon staring at the Williams homestead, occasionally catching glimpses of the happy holiday supper whenever someone opened the door. Why did he torment himself so?

  He rubbed his jaw. The bruise had long ago disappeared, but not the power behind Gabriel’s rage. Amos was almost tempted to tell Gabe to forget the wager. That he had had enough of the bitterness between them. Maggie was most likely spinning in her grave at the way the two men she cared the most about were acting. Not to mention how far away from God Amos had wandered.

  Bitterness ate away at his soul, leaving no room for love or forgiveness. What would he have done had Charity said yes to his ridiculous proposal? He would definitely have married the woman. A man didn’t see many as beautiful as her, but what kind of life would they have had? Would she marry him because she felt she had no choice? Maggie’s children would want to stay with Gabe. After all, they knew no other father.

  Amos stared into his fire. His life was a lonely existence. Maybe, instead of lusting after something that didn’t belong to him, he should look for a wife of his own. Maybe one of them mail order brides some of the miners were sending off for. He could specify a woman with yellow hair and black-eyed Susan eyes like Maggie’s.

  Wouldn’t much matter what the rest of her looked like, as long as she was able to fill some of the loneliness in his life. It gave him something to think about. He had a choice to make. Continue his feud with Gabe, or settle down with a woman of his own.

  28

  After her uncomfortable conversation the night before with God, Charity was determined to make this day the best one yet. A deeper chill than in the previous days filled the soddy. She pulled the quilts higher around her chin and glanced at the body beside her. Only the top of Meg’s curly head showed.

  Charity would fix oatmeal for breakfast. Something hot that would stick to their ribs on the coldest day they had had so far. She patted Meg’s hip. “Time to get up. Dress warm to fetch the eggs.” She glanced at the window. It was hard to tell through the oil cloth, but she thought it might still be snowing.

  The other bed lay empty, telling her that Gabriel and Sam were already at work on their morning chores. Her late night conversation with God caused her to sleep in. How early had Hiram and Mabel woke and headed home? “Come on, sleepyhead. The men are ahead of us.”

  Meg groaned and rolled over. “It’s too cold.”

  “We have a lot to do today.” Charity threw back the covers and grabbed her dress. “Laundry.” Which would not be fun in this cold.

  She would need to string a line across the room, and she definitely did not relish hauling water from the frigid outdoors onto her new wood floors. “Not to mention reading and figuring. We don’t want you and Sam to get behind. I need to make bread and have Sam bring in more firewood. We have a full day of work ahead of us.”

  She leaped from bed and hurriedly dressed. One glance out the window showed that snow did indeed still fall. She grinned. Maybe it was deep enough for bowls of snow dribbled with honey. A treat the children would love.

  By the time the rest of the family returned, Charity had breakfast ready and hot coffee made. She set out the bowls, and poured two mugs of coffee. She greeted her family with a smile, but pulled back when Gabriel stepped to her side and leaned in close.

  “Is it bad?” She asked, taking a step back.

  “The storm?” Gabriel shook his head. “No. We won’t get a bad one for a few more weeks.”

  “Good.” Charity turned back to the stove with a lighter heart. Her skin prickled when Gabriel followed. She had nowhere else to go, and he stood way too close smelling of shaving cream and wood smoke. And there she stood in a stained apron and her hair not even put up yet.

  “I’ve given the young’uns chores to do after breakfast,” he whispered. “So you and I can sit and have a serious conversation.”

  “Oh?” Her spine tingled. She knew they needed to talk. Had needed to for some time, but why now? Why today?

  He grinned and tugged at a curl. “Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love your hair down.”

  Mercy. The man could make her legs go weak.

  Her appetite fled. He was right, of course, but the thought of sitting across the table with just Gabriel staring back at her was enough to make her ill. “I’ve a list of chores of me own to do.”

  “They can wait.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “This talk is way over due, Charity.”

  She nodded and removed the pan from the stove. “You’re right, of course.” What had he and Hiram talked about in front of the fire yesterday while she and Mabel cleaned up after Thanksgiving supper? Had Hiram given him pointers on dealing with a strong-willed woman or had he shown Gabriel how to turn Charity into a submissive wife, like Mabel?

  She forced herself to eat, knowing she would need the energy for the conversation and chores afterwards, but the motion was mechanical. The children chattered, excited about the snowfall. Obviously the cold in the barn wouldn’t bother them overly much.

  By the time everyone finished, the dishes were cleared away, and the children outside, Charity’s hands trembled. She smoothed them down the front of her apron and took her seat beside Gabriel.

  He smiled. “Don’t be so frightened. I won’t bite you, and you’ve done nothing wrong. Am I so fearsome?”

  She shook her head and exhaled forcibly. She had worried a mite that she had angered him. “What’s on your mind, Gabriel?”

  ###

  Gabe fiddled with the floppy brim of his hat, working the fabric between his fingers. Why should a conversation with a little bit of a woman make him so nervous?

  Hiram had mentioned the day before that Charity had a problem with gambling because of her father losing everything they owned. Gabe wasn’t a gambler. Not really. He made one stupid wager, but was indeed in danger of losing everything he owned, just like Charity’s father. Must he pay the price for the rest of his life? He was doing the best he could do with a bad situation. Regardless, Charity deserved an explanation that should have been given to her months ago.

  He took a deep breath and stared into her green eyes. “As you know, Sam and Meg are not my biological children.” She nodded. “Maggie’s husband died in the War Between the States. After his death, Maggie came to Montana with Amos Jenkins.”

  Charity’s eyes widened. “He’s her cousin, correct?”

  “Distant cousin. Anyway, Amos has loved Maggie for years, ever since we were kids, so of course he wouldn’t allow her to travel to Montana alone.” He didn’t want to dwell on the ramifications of those actions. Maggie’s reputation had suffered for quite a while. Folks didn’t relent on their suspicions until Maggie married Gabe. Even Gabe wasn’t totally convinced about nothing improper going on during their trip across country, but had chosen not to dwell on what he couldn’t change.

  “Why did she come?” Charity stood and fetched the pot of coffee and refilled their mugs. “A widow with two children? Couldn’t have been an easy task.”

  “Most likely not. Maggie’s first husband was her soul mate. She said she couldn’t bear staying in the place they had lived together.”

  “She didn’t love you?” Charity frowned.

  “Sure, she did. But I knew I wasn’t the one she would have chosen had John still been alive. Anyway, Once they got here, Maggie needed a co-signer for the land. Her husband left her money, and she got more from the sale of their place in Missou
ri, but it wasn’t enough. Amos proposed, telling her that if they married, he would purchase the land for her. Maggie refused. She cared for Amos, just not as a husband.” Gabe took a drink. Amazing how dry one’s throat got while talking. Or maybe it was nerves about how Charity would react to his story.

  “So, he cosigned. Then when Maggie married me, he got a bit angry.” An understatement for sure. The man was madder than a rabid wolf. “Said I stole Maggie from him.”

  “Did you know Maggie before she moved here?”

  “Sure, I did. We grew up together. Attended the same school. I didn’t intentionally follow her out here, but was pretty pleased when I discovered she was widowed and living in Montana. I came out here after the war with hopes of being a rancher and found a wife with ample land to make that dream a reality. Having that woman be someone I’d cared about most of my life was an added bonus.” Gabe studied Charity’s face. She gazed at him with the utmost attention. Encouraged, he continued.

  “Amos wanted to go back on his word about the land when Maggie refused to marry him. This was before I got here. So, she made an addendum that she would have a “real” house built by the end of five years. One with wood walls and a roof. Amos said a soddy wasn’t a real house.

  “She was living in her wagon with the children when I arrived, but I’m rambling.” He leaned back in his chair, concentrating on his line of thought. “Let me backtrack a minute. Maggie’s husband died in 1864. She moved out here almost immediately. The following spring I arrived, and she was busy digging out this place and not making a lot of progress.

  “I offered her marriage, she accepted, and I finished the soddy. Then Maggie got bit by a snake, and Amos showed up one day, even angrier than before, claiming I didn’t know how to care for a woman. I told him the house he claimed should be here would be built by spring of 1869 or he could have everything. The land, the creek, the barn. I was foolish enough to put the terms to paper. I was suffering grief and guilt on my own without him spouting nonsense. That was a big mistake, and I should never have said it. But, I did. Well, spring is fast approaching, and I’m in danger of losing everything but the horse I rode in on.”