Charity gnawed her bottom lip while Gabe waited nervously for her to say something. He didn’t think she would leave him. Not this close to winter. She had known a little of the circumstances that led him to marry her, but it was way past time for her to know it all.
“So, you see, I’m not really a gambling man, you can rest assured in that area.”
She stared at him for a moment before answering. “Yet, you not being a gambling man as you say, wagered all that you have, in a weak moment, with your enemy. That’s a pretty big gamble, don’t you think? For a non-gambling man, of course.”
###
Charity moved away from the table and began measuring coffee for a fresh pot. Anything to keep Gabriel from staring into her face. He was right. They needed the conversation. She just didn’t know how to respond to what he told her.
She understood the reason behind what Gabriel did, but couldn’t give her approval. He stood to lose everything. Even, possibly, his children, since Amos was a blood relation. She bowed her head. What could she possibly do to help that she hadn’t already done? She could not control the weather or circumstances that arose. She turned to face her husband.
“What do you want me to do?” She held the coffee-pot like a shield.
“Understand.”
“I do, but I can’t condone it. Not after what me da put me and Ma through.” She set the pot back on the stove. “We had a good life in Ireland, or so we thought. We had no idea Da was making most of his money gambling. We thought his employer overly generous and blessed our good fortune. We had a fine stone cottage. Then, we came to America. Ma took sick with a fever and died. Da gambled even more and lost everything. Then, he decided to mine for gold and was killed when a cave collapsed. I took to doing laundry, and you know the rest.”
She poured a pan of hot water into the washbasin and swished her hand to make suds. She loved him, she could admit that to herself now, and that pained her, too. Loving a gambling man was dangerous. Sure, he said he had only bet the once, but how could she be certain? No, it was best she guard her heart against the type of betrayal her Ma suffered through.
“Has life with me and the children been so bad?” The sad tone in his voice caused her to look back. The vulnerable look on his face was almost her undoing.
“No, it’s a fine life.” One that contained memories she would cherish forever.
“But you will allow one mistake to keep us from pursuing something … more?”
What was he saying?
“Pa!” Sam burst through the door. “That man you don’t like is here, and he’s got guns.”
“Wait.” Charity held up a hand to stop Gabriel from charging outside. “Amos Jenkins came by the day you went hunting. Said he wanted to settle things. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Gabriel gave her a stern look and grabbed his rifle. “You should have told me. We’ll settle things for sure alright. I won’t have him bothering my family.”
Charity grabbed her coat and raced after him. “Don’t do anything foolish, Gabriel Williams.”
“Stay in the house.” Gabriel glared. “The children, too.”
Charity wrapped her arms around Meg and Sam and stood in the doorway. Amos Jenkins sat on his chestnut mustang, his lips stretched into a thin line under his moustache. His two pistols were holstered on his hips.
“Did your woman tell you I was here asking for you a while back?”
Gabriel stepped forward, his rifle cradled in his arms. Charity left the children in the house and stood beside him. She wouldn’t let him face his nemesis alone.
“She told me,” Gabe said.
Amos nodded toward the new house. “Not finished, and the snow is falling. Looks like I’m going to win, unless you want to make another wager. Winner takes all?”
“I don’t care to wager again.” A muscle ticked in Gabriel’s jaw. “We’ll leave things as they stand. The house will be finished.”
“We’ll see. If not, I get everything you have. Including your family. Did your wife tell you I asked her to wed me if you fail?”
29
“Let’s cut down a tree!” Gabriel called from outside.
Charity put down the scarf she knitted and grabbed her coat. Already the children raced to join their father. When she had mentioned getting a tree the day before, Gabriel had seemed to shrug it off, calling it a silly waste of time. Now, here they were, heading into the woods. She motioned for the dogs to follow.
Gabriel waited outside, an axe rested on his shoulder. “Ready to get that tree?”
Charity grinned and nodded. After her conversation with Gabriel and the subsequent visit from Amos, things were tense again around the Williams homestead. When Amos rode away, Gabriel had stalked to the barn, not to return until supper time. Then, he made it clear he was unhappy that Charity hadn’t told him about Amos’s visit around Thanksgiving. She sighed. She should have told him, yes, but the damage was done. No sense in acting as if the world had ended.
Maybe it was the fact Amos wanted to wed Charity if Gabriel lost the wager that had his long johns in a bind. Not that she had any intention of agreeing to such a preposterous proposal. She had told Gabriel that, but the silly man wouldn’t listen. Pride was a powerful thing. She doubted she would ever understand its mighty hold on men.
Clouds pregnant with snow filled the sky. A breeze, cold enough to set Charity’s eyes to tearing, flew across them, singing through the branches of pine trees. She buttoned her coat, wiped her sleeve across her eyes, and followed her family.
Gabriel led them at a steady pace down the creek before veering up the mountain. As they traveled, the trees thickened, casting them into a twilight darkness. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a meadow farther on,” Gabe shouted over his shoulder. “That I promise will have the perfect tree.”
Charity exchanged a skeptical glance with Meg and continued, her leg muscles burning with the effort. Gabriel and Sam climbed with barely a struggled breath. Despite the cold and rugged terrain, pleasure filled Charity at the simple tradition of chopping down a tree for Christmas. For as long as she could remember, her da had always gotten her one, even if it was only small enough to sit on a table.
“We’ve never had a tree in the house before,” Meg said, slipping her mittened hand into Charity’s.
“Then you’re in for a wonderful surprise. Once we get home we’ll make garland. Keep your eyes open for lush green swags to hang above the fireplace.” Charity smiled down. “A tree is a wonderful tradition passed down from generation to generation in Europe.”
“Here we are.” Gabriel stepped back and ushered them into a meadow covered with an unspoiled carpet of snow. A small clusters of young firs clustered in the center of the meadow, highlighted by a break in the clouds.
Charity clapped her hands. What a gift they’d been given. Her gaze lit on the perfect tree.
###
Charity set the last wrapped gift under the Christmas tree and stepped back. Paper garlands and fabric bows made the small pine festive. Swags of greenery adorned the mantel.
The children had finally fallen asleep an hour ago. Gabriel labored on something in the barn. Charity lowered herself into his leather chair and prepared to enjoy the quiet for just a little while.
Tonight was Christmas Eve and her husband was holed up in the barn. What would it be like to snuggle with him in front of the fire? To know they would share a bed that night and rejoice, together, at the glee on the children’s faces come morning when they opened their gifts? Would he like the books she had purchased for him? The shirt she had sewed?
She sighed and rubbed her hands over the worn leather chair arms. She should be sitting in the rocker. This chair was Gabriel’s domain, but sitting here made her feel closer to him, despite her wanting to remain at a distance. Oh, life and the emotions that went with it were too complicated to dwell on so late at night.
She lowered the wick on the lamp and headed to bed. The children
would wake them early.
###
Gabe sanded the last piece of the pine nativity he had carved for Charity, then laid the baby Jesus in the manger. He hoped she had finally gone to bed so he could have the nativity set up under the tree when she woke in the morning. He glanced at the carved doll cradle for Meg, and the new rifle for Sam. He had worked late many nights out in the barn, but the looks on his family’s faces would be worth the lack of sleep.
He hefted the items in his arms and trudged through the falling snow to the house. Charity had left the lamp lit and more packages sat under the tree. The scent of pine filled the room, and Gabe smiled at the decorating. The tree sat in a corner, taking up more space than they could afford to lose. He had definitely missed a woman’s touch in the place over the last couple of years.
The nativity looked great under the tree, Mary and Joseph watching over the baby Jesus while shepherds looked on. He had even had time to carve the wisemen and some sheep. The nativity wasn’t the only gift he had for his wife. He prayed he had done well in choosing something feminine.
He wrapped Sam’s rifle in an old blanket and leaned it against the wall. Satisfied he had done everything he could to make tomorrow perfect, he shucked his clothes and crawled into bed.
The next morning, Meg and Sam jumped on him while Charity smiled. “Merry Christmas,” they called.
“Merry Christmas.” He waited for Charity to turn around before pulling on his pants.
She had donned a ratty robe over her flannel nightclothes and tied her hair back in a green ribbon. “Should we have breakfast or do presents first?”
“Presents!” The children dashed to the tree. The dogs barked, joining in the frivolity.
“Wait.” Gabriel removed his Bible from the mantel. “We read from Luke first. Same as every year.”
“Someone hung up our stockings!” Meg pulled hers free from a nail, ripping Charity’s careful stitching. Gabe glanced at her, eyebrows raised.
She blushed and nodded. “A nativity? It’s beautiful, Gabriel.”
“There’s an orange and nuts inside our stockings. And a peppermint stick!” Sam dumped his on the floor and shoved Prince away.
Gabe stepped closer to Charity. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of stockings.”
She shrugged, and took a seat in the rocker. “It’s what a mother does, I’m sure.”
“Maybe so.” He laughed and placed a kiss on the top of her curly head. The fact she didn’t pull away, gave him hope. Hope that someday, she would accept a declaration of love from him.
It also pleased him that she didn’t seem as reluctant to hear him read from the Good Word as she once was. By the time he finished reading of the first Christmas, Sam and Meg were fairly bursting out of their skin. Charity seemed rather excited, too, and the first scents of roasting goose began to fill their home.
“Sam, why don’t hand out the gifts?” Gabe replaced his Bible.
“Yours is heavy, Pa!” Sam pushed a two-foot high package toward him. “I know what it is. Open it.”
“Let’s let Meg go first. She’s the youngest.”
“Yippee.” Meg unwrapped a new rag doll and hugged it to her chin. Wrapped with the toy was a dress for Meg that matched the emerald one the doll wore. Gabe recognized the fabric and was glad to see something of Maggie’s benefit the children. “Thanks, Ma. I will love her forever. Is that cradle for my doll?”
Gabe nodded. “Yep. Made it myself. Sam, take a look in the corner.” He thought his grin would split his face when tears welled in his son’s eyes at sight of the gun.
“It’s mine?”
“All yours. Respect it, now.” Gabe turned to Charity.
With her cheeks still pink, she unwrapped a thick present. Inside were yards of scarlet velvet and pearl studded hair combs. “Oh, Gabriel.” Her eyes shimmered in the firelight. “I can make a beautiful cloak with this. I’ve never had anything so fine as this fabric and these combs.”
“You’re welcome.” He unwrapped his gift, and gawked at the stack of books. “Where in heaven’s name did you find this many? We could start a library.” He lifted the top one. “Great Expectations? Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”
She beamed. “A miner turned them in to the mercantile for credit. Do you like them?”
“I’ve books to read all winter. Books the children can read. Books to stock shelves in our new home.” The gesture was almost more than Gabe could bear. She couldn’t have gotten him a better gift if he had told her what to purchase.
“It’s a gift we can all enjoy, for sure. Open your others.”
He unwrapped a blue chambray shirt from Meg and thick, store-bought socks from Sam. Where had they gotten the money for the gifts and books? He studied Charity’s face, not willing to ask a question that would wipe the happiness from it. He would accept her gracious gifts and keep his mouth shut.
###
The children dressed in their Christmas finery. Charity wore her best dress, a deep blue wool skirt and white blouse. She protected her clothes with a ruffled red apron she had made special for the occasion. Lighting candles on the table for breakfast, she called the others to eat and wished the day could go on forever.
“You look beautiful, Charity.” Gabriel took his seat at the head of the table.
She flushed. He had brought the goose in from the smoke house earlier and she had put it in the stove before presents. The mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat filled the house and reminded her of Christmas with her ma and da.
After breakfast, they would sit in front of the fire while the children played. Meg with her doll, and Sam with the tin soldiers he’d discovered stashed behind the tree. Gabriel would read, and Charity would crochet a new afghan to adorn their home. They would make a picture of the perfect loving family. A picture she would hold in her heart, much as Jesus’s mother, Mary, had pondered words after the visit from the angel.
Not that she compared herself to the Virgin Mary. Far from it, but she would treasure, and wonder, about the day’s perfectness her entire life. Long after she left this place and headed only God knew where.
Despite Gabriel’s reluctance to get out his former wife’s good dishes, she had dug them out of a crate in the barn and set the table with the white china adorned with blue roses. Today’s meals deserved to be served on something pretty, even if that something once belonged to someone else.
She knew Gabriel wondered where the money for the gifts came from, and she admired his restraint in not asking. Once spring came, if she left, she would take in laundry again and build up her nest egg again. For now, she counted the money well spent.
Gabriel looked down at the dishes. “I’ll have to buy you your own someday. These were Maggie’s when she was married to her first husband.”
“And we’ll keep them for Meg to use in her home someday.” Charity set a plate of flapjakes in front of him.
“You don’t want your own things?” He studied her face.
She sat. “Of course. Every woman does.”
“You’re avoiding the subject, Mrs. Williams.” He waved his fork at her.
Must he tease her so? She didn’t want to dwell on what would happen in a few months. She wanted to enjoy the day. Fine. She would play along. “Next Christmas you can buy me the finest set of china in Montana.”
“It’s a deal.”
She smiled. She definitely enjoyed the light-hearted, happy Gabriel to the sullen one focused primarily on winning a bet. There was still hope that over the long winter months, her husband would fall in love with her. “The snow is coming down harder.”
“Won’t be pleasant taking care of the animals later, but at least it ain’t a blizzard. When we get one of those, you can hear the wind howl down the chimney. Even a sod house doesn’t stay completely warm in a blizzard.” He cut into his pancakes. “I remember once, we all had to sleep in the same bed to stay warm. It wasn’t safe to have a fire. Thankfully, that isn’t common, though.”
Gracious, she hoped
not. She wouldn’t get a lick of sleep if she shared a bed with Gabriel.
The day unfolded just as she had envisioned. The dogs lay under the table, Meg and Sam played in front of the fire, and Gabriel and Charity sat in their favorite chairs while he read and she crocheted with rose-colored yarn. If Charity were an artist, she would sketch the image to keep forever. Maybe even frame it to adorn a future wall.
She laughed at her fanciful thoughts, and wondered whether she would ever have a permanent family of her own.
30
The year 1869 came on the skirts of a snowstorm. Not the slight flurries that ushered in the end of 1868, but a bone-chilling blizzard.
Charity wrapped her sweater tighter around her and untacked the oil cloth from the window in order to see exactly what the storm was doing outside. Despite the blazing fire in the fireplace, the room was chilled by a wind that sneaked under the door and blew hard enough to find its way through the window covering. She tacked it back in place.
The warm glow of Christmas seemed months past. Tempers flared from the four humans and three animals confined in the small space. Many times Gabriel threatened to banish the animals to the barn. Charity shivered. How could anything stay warm out there?
“The weather is only going to get worse. I thought as the day progressed, maybe the storm would lessen. I suppose it won’t.” Gabriel tugged on his boots. “I’d best care for the livestock now before it’s pitch dark.”
“A body can’t see out there as it is.” Charity faced him. “Will the lantern work?”
“I’ll keep a good hold of the rope. I’ve done this many times before. I’ve a lantern in the barn.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Keep the children and dogs indoors.”
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 66
