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

by Cynthia Hickey

  She nodded. A few times since Christmas, Gabriel had given her small tokens of affection, like now. The gestures gave her hope that maybe he would love her enough to ask her to stay. “Be careful.” She wrapped a scarf she had made him tightly around his neck, mouth, and nose.

  “I will,” he mumbled through the yarn. “I’ll be as hungry as a bear when I’m done.”

  “Supper will be waiting. Venison stew with vegetables from our garden.” She watched him go, then swept away the snow that had flown in when he opened the door. She sat at the kitchen table and called the children away from their toys. They could squeeze in time to practice their sums. She turned up the lamp and slid a slate and slate pencil to each child.

  “One hour, that’s all I ask.” She grabbed her mending to keep her hands occupied while they worked, and to keep her mind off the storm raging outside.

  Time passed. Slate pencils scratched across slates. Charity’s knitting needles clacked a steady rhythm as she worked on a new shawl, having set her mending aside over an hour ago.

  A crack ricocheted. Possibly a tree branch breaking .

  Charity jumped and met the frightened gazes of Meg and Sam. Enough was enough. Over an hour and there was no sign of Gabriel. She would have to go look for him. What if he were lying in the snow somewhere, freezing to death? The sun would set soon and the temperature would drop fast. She could not sit back and do nothing.

  “All right, children. I’m going to the barn to help your father so he finishes the chores quicker. It’s taking much longer is this horrible weather.” She stood and buttoned her sweater, then slid her arms into her coat, feet into boots, and covered her head with a wool scarf. “If we’re not back within—a” She glanced at the mantel clock and pulled on a pair of gloves. “Thirty minutes, eat without us. We’ll be back soon.”

  Meg grabbed her sleeve. “No, Ma. Pa said to stay here.”

  “It does take longer to do chores in the winter,” Sam added. “Wait just a little longer.”

  Charity peeked out the door. The wind had increased, filling the world with whirling white. Staying put just a while longer sounded like a wonderful idea, except for the nagging feeling that something was horribly wrong.

  ###

  Gabe removed his gloves and stuck his hands under his arms in a futile attempt to warm them. His breath plumed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this cold, or been in a blizzard this severe. Sure, it snowed in the Montana mountains, but this seemed excessive.

  “Well, boy, hopefully, this will keep you warm enough.” He tossed an extra saddle blanket over Rogue’s back then moved to do the same to Charity’s and Sam’s horses. There wasn’t anything he could do for the cattle. They were grouped by a thick stand of trees that he prayed would be enough to cut the worst of the wind. He certainly did not want to brave the weather to check on them again. Once was more than enough. He had thought the wind would blow him right out of his boots, and the hike to the corral, battling the fierce wind, had taken over an hour.

  He opened the barn door and stared into the increasing snow. Visibility was nil. The howl of the wind rivaled a pack of wolves.

  It would be foolish to go outside right now, even using the rope to guide him back to the house. Not with the strength of the wind. He settled on a hay bale as close to Rogue as the horse would let him, in order to use the animal’s body heat, and prepared to wait.

  Charity and the children would be frantic, but not as worried as they would be if he were lost in the storm. Maybe he could signal them somehow. Would they be able to see a lantern’s light through the swirling snow? It was worth a try.

  After several attempts to get his frozen fingers to work, he managed to light the lantern and hung it on a hook outside the door. The glass dome protected the flame from the wind, but for how long, Gabe didn’t know. He settled back on his hay bale and leaned against Rogue.

  The animal was so warm. Gabe was tempted to hunt down the barn cats and stick them in his coat. Their bodies would put off heat, but the things were so feral, they’d most likely claw him to death. They weren’t anything like their cuddly sibling Patches.

  He shivered and second guessed his idea of remaining in the barn. Supper should be waiting on the stove for him. A thick venison stew that would stick to a man’s ribs and warm him all the way to his toes. Yep, Charity had turned into a right fine cook. She didn’t seem to spurn his affectionate gestures either. Yep, things were looking up for them.

  Lord, don’t let her do anything foolish. Like come to look for him.

  ###

  This was the craziest thing Charity had ever done. But after another hour without Gabriel, even the children were worried. She couldn’t take another minute of their puppy dog glances.

  Her eyes watered from the cold. The wind found its way through her layers of clothing and bit at her skin with razor teeth. She could barely feel the guide rope through her gloves. Maybe she should go back. She had to be at least half way to the barn by now. It made more sense to continue forward where she could find Gabriel, warm up, then make the trek back with him. Was that the glow of a lantern? Surely, Gabriel wasn’t still outside in this.

  Oh, what if he was out with the cattle? Charity stopped and glanced around her. In this world of all-encompassing white, she had no idea which direction the corral was.

  She was so cold, her bones rattled. She glanced behind her and in front of her, torn about which direction she should go. Fetch Gabriel, or go back and sit by the fire?

  A wolf howled, or was it the wind? The storm seemed to increase with each passing minute. Charity drowned in a sea of white, blind to the world around her.

  A sharp gust tangled her skirts around her legs. She slid and fell. The rope! She would never find it now. She climbed to her feet and, with hands outstretched in front of her, she shuffled to where she thought she had seen the lantern light.

  She was going the wrong way. Surely she should have reached the barn by now. Charity switched directions. She stumbled and fell again. The wet snow dampened her skirts causing her to shiver harder. Would she die mere feet from her own home? Frozen to death in a snowstorm? Oh, how that would devastate the children.

  She had to make it. For their sakes. They couldn’t stand to lose another mother.

  Something crunched under her boots. Ice covering the creek? She turned around again, hoping she headed toward the house this time. Surely, a person could only go in circles so much before running into something familiar, right?

  She blinked back tears before they could fall and soak into her scarf or leave ice tracks on her cheeks. There had not been a time when Charity could remember being this frightened. “Hello! Can anyone hear me?”

  If nothing else, walking kept the blood flowing. She ducked her head against the wind and continued, increasing her pace, occasionally shouting out a cry for help.

  ###

  Gabe jerked awake. Was that a cry for help? He leaped to his feet and made his way to the door. Struggling against the wind, he finally got it open, and strained to hear the sound again. “Hello? Is there someone out there? Charity?”

  Please, God, don’t let it be her. Snow had a way of playing tricks on a man, leading him to believe he saw and heard something that wasn’t there.

  The lantern had blown off the hook. Gabe took a deep breath, grabbed the rope in his left hand, and slowly began to make his way to the house. He should never have fallen asleep, but Rogue’s body warmth and soft snuffles had been as effective as a lullaby.

  There it was again. The cry for help. Or was it a trick of the wind? Gabe was close enough to the house that he could detect the warm lantern glow through the window. There was mere minutes before he could sit in front of the fire.

  He stood still for a moment and listened. Nothing but the wind. He decided the cry had been nothing but his imagination. He increased his pace to the house, his stomach growling in anticipation of a hot meal.

  A wolf howl sliced through the late aftern
oon. Was the wind lessening? Did he dare hope the storm was blowing itself out? Visibility still wasn’t good, but he could make out the outline of the barn behind him and the white mound of the soddy in the other direction. The lamp’s glow was brighter.

  Another wolf howled. He turned back to make sure the latch on the barn was secure. The cattle would have to fend for themselves. He prayed he wouldn’t lose any to the storm or to predators.

  By the time he reached his front door, he wondered whether he would ever be warm again. He shoved his way inside and stomped the snow from his boots.

  “Pa!” Meg and Sam launched themselves at him.

  Gabe braced himself against their onslaught and glanced around the room while loosening his scarf. His heart sank. “Where’s your Ma?”

  31

  Charity sagged against a tree. The fierce wind had finally slowed, and she could make out her surroundings. Unfortunately, nothing looked familiar. How could she have passed the soddy and the barn? She should have run into one of them; stumbled past the corral; heard the lowing of cattle. She was going to die out here. Night was falling. She was going to freeze and some unfortunate hunter would find her come spring.

  She wiped her eyes and nose with the end of her scarf and pushed onward. Maybe she headed toward Mabel and Hiram’s homestead. But, she didn’t remember this many trees or such a steep incline. She headed up the mountain.

  A wolf’s howl sent shivers up her spine. She whipped around trying to locate where the chilling sound came from. Would a wolf attack an adult? Would they be hungry enough after only the first blizzard to want to eat her?

  Her heart pounded loud enough to drown out the sounds around her. She needed to find shelter before it grew completely dark and she was at the mercy of wild animals. Was Gabriel looking for her? Surely by now, he was. She must have been wandering for well over an hour.

  The temptation to sit and wait came over her. But, if she did, she would definitely freeze before being found. Already she struggled to keep her eyes open. Continuing in the direction that led only God knew where could also result in her death, but moving meant keeping warmer. She hunched farther in her coat and put one foot in front of the other. The fact she might die before telling Gabriel she loved him, ripped at her heart.

  ###

  “How long ago did she leave?” Gabe retied his scarf.

  “More than an hour,” Sam answered. “You didn’t see her? You must have passed her.”

  “No.” Gabe’s heart stopped. Charity had done the unthinkable. Gone out into the storm. Thank God, it was waning. “You two stay here. Keep warm. I’ll go looking for her. Hold onto Prince because I’m taking Lady, and I don’t want to worry about a pup with the wolves.” Maybe the dog could find Charity, even with the falling snow.

  “Here, Pa.” Meg thrust a chunk of bread in his hands. “It ain’t stew, but you gotta eat.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m much obliged.” He cupped her cheek and stared into brown eyes shimmering with tears. “Don’t fret. I’ll find your Ma.” Or die trying. God protect her from the cold.

  “Come on, girl.” He motioned for Lady to follow him. He felt a moment’s remorse at coaxing the dog out into the weather, but finding Charity was more important than the dog’s comfort. He grabbed a knapsack from a nail by the door, giving him the tools he would need to start a fire, and Charity’s red cloak. The color would help her feel better while she warmed up from the cold. Her old jacket was so worn.

  Sam thrust a bedroll at him. “You taking Rogue?”

  “Yes. I’m hoping it won’t be too difficult for him. It will be faster than going on foot.” Charity left over an hour ago. With the way the wolves seemed to be on the move, he might already be too late.

  ###

  Charity found a stout stick to help her walk. Her feet ached. Her mind went numb an hour ago. Sleep sounded very good. Instead of leaving the woods for open ground, she seemed to be moving into thicker trees and upward. Everything looked so different covered in snow.

  A wolf howled closer than before. She wanted to join her cries with the animal’s. Instead, she forced herself to move faster. Eventually she would have to hit some sign of civilization, right? An Indian village or a homestead? How many neighbors did Gabriel have? She should have asked.

  After what she judged to be an hour, the wind died, the snow stopped, and stars winked between the dissolving clouds. Footfalls padded around her, and Charity caught glimpses of dark shadows darting among the trees. The howls had stopped to be replaced by snarls. Instead, the moon and stars glittered off yellow eyes fixed on her.

  She clutched her stick tighter. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. The snarling grew closer. She glimpsed a fire through the trees, and ran. She burst into a clearing, turned, and brandished her stick.

  “Mrs. Williams?”

  Charity glanced over her shoulder. Amos Jenkins grabbed his rifle and fired three shots into the air, scattering the wolves.

  “Mr. Jenkins.” Charity sagged with relief. A fire blazed from the center of the clearing. Next to it was a lean-to thick with pine branches. She dropped her stick and rushed toward the fire. Pain pricked her fingers as they warmed. Was that coffee in the pot? “I am so thankful to see you. How did you weather the storm out here alone?”

  “I managed.” Amos hunkered down opposite her. “How long have your been out here? Why are you out here? If I hadn’t gotten stranded myself, you could have wandered for days, if you didn’t freeze to death first.”

  “That thought did occur to me. May I?” She reached for the pot and the mug next to him

  He nodded. “Help yourself. There are beans in the pan, if you’re hungry.”

  She wrapped her fingers around the hot mug. Heaven. She met Amos’s hard gaze. Though his words were cordial, his manner was colder than the snow. It seemed as if she inconvenienced him. “I do appreciate the coffee, Mr. Jenkins. Very much. I’m sure Gabriel will also appreciate any aid you give me. If it is a problem for you to take me home, could you point me in the right direction?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Amos poked at the wood in the fire pit with a stick. “I am headed to the Crow village. Seems I am responsible for the death of one of their young women, and they are dreadfully unhappy. You are the solution to my problem. If I give them you, maybe they will stop hunting me.” He grinned.

  “What were you going to do if I had not stumbled upon you?”

  Amos shrugged. “I was hoping to barter several some horses,” He motioned to a couple of horses over his shoulder. “For the girl’s death. I no longer need to do so.”

  Charity dropped the mug, turned, and ran. A breath later, Amos tackled her to the ground. Her face froze from contact with the ground.

  “I really was hoping you would cooperate.” He got to his feet and yanked her to hers. “Now, I’ll have to tie you up and hope you don’t freeze.”

  “You won’t get away with this.” Charity struggled. “Gabriel will have your head.”

  “I won’t need my head if the Indians take my scalp. Circumstances are more promising now.” He pushed her down as close to the fire as he could, and bound her hands and feet. “If I were you, I would pray the wolves don’t come investigating during the night.”

  “I didn’t have the opportunity to eat, Mr. Jenkins. Or finish my coffee. Please untie my hands.”

  “You should have thought of that before you tried to run.”

  Charity glared. Amos wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. He obviously didn’t know Red Feather was Gabriel’s good friend, but she wouldn’t be the one to give him that information. She scooted to where she had dropped the mug, wrapped her hands around it, and managed to wedge it between two rocks so she could pour in more coffee. When she had finished, she tossed Amos a confident grin.

  He frowned and grabbed a bedroll from the back of his piebald horse. Wrapping a wool blanket around his shoulders, he stretched out in front of the fire. “If you’re still alive in th
e morning, we’ll head out.”

  “Hmmph.” Oh, she would be alive all right! She wouldn’t give the scoundrel the satisfaction of finding her dead come morning. Wouldn’t she love to bash him over the head with a rock? She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t, but the thought kept her from drifting to sleep. She wanted to stay awake as long as possible and plan her escape. Would she ever be warm again?

  She lay as close to the fire as she dared and rolled into a ball. At least one side of her would be warm. Gabriel and the children must be so worried. If nothing had happened to Gabriel, that is. He could very well have gotten lost in the storm as she had.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Most likely he had stayed in the barn. Only she was foolish enough to venture out in a storm. But she had been genuinely afraid something had happened to him. She never thought she would lose hold of the rope. Closing her eyes, she squirmed to get more comfortable and waited for tomorrow and Red Feather or Gabriel. Whichever, or whoever, came first.

  ###

  How far could one small woman have gone? Gabe’s legs hurt from tromping through a foot of snow. Maybe he went in the wrong direction? He headed in the direction that made the most sense to him—where Charity might have gone; toward the creek.

  Then, she would have noticed where she was and reversed direction. Had she gone straight up the mountain or veered to the left or the right? His shoulders slumped. She could be anywhere. Choosing the right direction would require a miracle, but his God was a God of miracles. He paused for a moment to pray, then set off up the mountain.

  He whistled for Lady to follow. She darted, nose to the ground, from tree to bush and back to Gabe. He didn’t know if Irish Wolfhounds were hunters or not, but the dog did seem to care a great deal for Charity. He prayed it was enough for the dog to pick up her trail.

  If it didn’t snow again, maybe they would see footprints soon. Most lost folks tended to wander in circles. Without fresh snow falling, any new tracks would remain visible.

  When he found her, he would tell her he loved her. No more wasting time. No more waiting for the ‘right’ moment to have a serious conversation. He, of all people, should know that nothing was for certain on the Montana prairie. Not your next day, not your next breath.