Charity nodded and ate more of the simple stew. “The Old Testament speaks of a’n eye-for-an-eye,’ but Jesus abolished that when he died on the cross.” She smiled, remembering some of the things her Ma had taught her. Things Charity had chosen to forget.
“God has seen fit to give you to us, and take Amos Jenkins.”
Charity stared at him in surprise. He couldn’t be serious.
“Yes, I know who he is. I know his name. God used my nephew as a tool to rid the world of a bad man.” Red Feather took Charity’s empty bowl from her hands.
“Used? He’s dead?”
Red Feather nodded. “Nephew returned while you were sleeping. Jenkins fired a shot at him and the noise caused an avalanche. You may go home when the pass is cleared.”
“I don’t want to stay here.” Tears welled in Charity’s eyes. “I want to go home. Not when the pass clears.” Her heart sank. That could be months.
“Snow piled high. You must rest now. God has sent you here for healing. He told me this. That you have much to ponder in your heart.” Red Feather nodded a few times, his feather bobbing.
The notion that God might use an uneducated Indian to get Charity’s attention was not lost on her. As the Bible stories her mother told her came back to her, she realized that God used such methods many times. He intended to use the ill deeds contrived by Amos for something good for Charity.
Amos intended for the Indians to do harm toward her, yet they healed her, dressed her, and gave her food as if she were a worthy guest. A worthy guest. Tears spilled over. How could she ever have thought herself unloved? God loved her more than any mortal man ever could. He could give her a contentment gold never could. The cross made her worthy of God’s love, and therefore Gabriel’s.
Red Feather stood. “You are sad. Time for you to pray.” With those words, he turned and left her. Babbling Brook sat in a corner mending a piece of deerskin. For the moment, she was so quiet it was easy to forget she was there.
Charity lay on her back. Tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks to soak her hair and the furs under her. God was a God of hope. A God of promise.
If not today, maybe not tomorrow, but Charity would be reunited with Gabriel. Of that she had no doubt. She prayed it would be on earth rather than in heaven.
She had so much to tell him. Of her re-acquaintance with God who had never given up on her; of her love for Gabriel; of her desire to stay as long as he would have her. More than anything, she hoped she would have that opportunity. Her heart told her that Gabriel was looking for her. How long until he gave up? Would he be able to make it over the avalanche?
Two more days. She would give him that long, then she would go to him. Not even a fallen mountain would be able to keep her from doing so. She rolled over, snuggling deeper in the furs. She would go over the blocked pass or tunnel through it, but go she would.
There would be no question of what bed she would sleep in when she returned home. She would ask Mabel to watch the children for a few days, and she would show Gabriel what it was like to be truly married to Charity O’Connell. Her face heated, she smiled, and closed her eyes.
###
Amos lay under the suffocating blanket of snow. After being swept from his horse, he had tumbled and slid, finally landing, broken and bleeding somewhere at the foot of the mountain. He knew his moments were numbered. No man could survive being buried under several feet of snow. Already, he labored for breath. His heart beat slowed.
Bitterness and anger made poor bedfellows, and Amos had spent too long with each of them. Gabe Williams was the better man. He could have rejoiced over the sight of Amos being swept away, instead he had cried out a warning. Had he not been in danger himself, Gabe most likely would have rushed to Amos’s side. Amos doubted he would have done the same.
He struggled to move his pinned arm and gave up when pain shot through his shoulder and back. He was in bad shape. His breath came in gasps now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he met His Maker. He might have ridiculed some folks about their faith, but now Amos pulled from the faith his dear mother had instilled in him. Thank the Good Lord, that small amount was all he needed.
He smiled, knowing Maggie’s children would be set for life by the provision in his will. Now, he could spend eternity with the one he loved.
Forgive me, God. Welcome me, despite my bitterness, into your arms.
###
Gabe wasn’t much of a man for tears, but his shoulders shook with the sobs he couldn’t hold back. The sight of Amos being buried alive brought to mind Maggie’s death, and the fact that Charity might be stranded, or dead, and alone. He pulled her cloak to his lap and stroked the plush velvet as Rogue plodded his way home.
She had yet to wear the gift, stating it too fine for every day. What if she never got the opportunity? Why did women insist on holding onto nice things for those “special” times?
The sun began its descent over the mountain. It would be well past dark by the time Gabe made it home. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the dried.
He glanced back. Could he make it through the pass on foot? He thought again of taking the children to Hiram’s and Mabel’s then continue looking for Charity. Was she even on the other side of the pile of snow? Lord, show me what to do!
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this helpless. Every instinct told him to brave the pass and find the woman he loved, but responsibility told him to head home and care for the children. God would watch out for Charity or choose to take her home. Either way, Gabe needed to accept His will.
The thought brought him up short. It wasn’t that Gabe couldn’t keep his wives safe, it was that God decided it was time to bring them home.
Still his heart sat heavy. Charity was the love of his life. He would never find another woman to affect him, or claim his heart, the way she did. He would spend the rest of his life alone, caring for his children and the homestead that was now fully his. Yet, knowing he no longer needed to meet a deadline in regards to building the house left him empty.
The wind picked up, sending chills down his spine. He pulled his collar up to his ears and hunched in his coat. He wrapped the scarlet red cloak around his shoulders, feeling a bit like Charity was with him.
There was no way of knowing whether Charity was in heaven, but Gabe would do everything he could to find out as soon as possible. He would have faith in God’s mercy in the meantime, and have hope.
34
Charity could not wait another day. Her leg still throbbed, despite her four days at the village, but the burning in her heart to be home and at Gabriel’s side overshadowed everything else. She wanted to hug the children, pet the dogs, and laugh at the kitten’s antics. She yearned to cook on the stove in the crowded soddy. She wanted to profess her love and tell her husband of her renewed relationship with their Heavenly Father.
She was willing to forget his lapse of judgment in making a wager with Amos. A wager that was now null and void.
Wrapping herself in furs, she marched out of the teepee, determined to state her intentions to leave to Red Feather. The morning sun warmed her face. Perhaps the pass wouldn’t be too difficult to travel. She would leave today.
After she begged Babbling Brook for a bit of food and water, she would make her way over the blocked pass and into the arms of her family. She had come to learn that Red Feather’s nephew wasn’t his nephew, at least not in the sense Charity would consider him to be. Pledging to wed Red Feather’s niece gave him the title, and since his return after the avalanche, the young Indian’s gaze followed Charity around the village like a dog slobbering after a bone. If she stayed much longer, she feared she would be forced to take the dead girl’s place as his intended. Just as the cowardly Amos had planned.
The young brave, Straight Arrow, strolled past, adorned with intricate beadwork on his chest and feet. His dark gaze roamed over Charity, sizing her up for his future bride, no doubt. She forced her features to remain impassive and wished she had as
ked Babbling Brook for something with which to tie back her hair. The young man did not seem to understand that Charity was already married. He took Amos’s word that she was in exchange for the dead girl. Several times, the young man reached out and ran his fingers through her red strands, making guttural sound in his throat and sending prickles of unease up her spine.
Way too forward, if he asked her, which he didn’t. She complained to Red Feather, but he just stared, perplexed, and moved on about his business. Enough was enough. Charity whirled back to the teepee, and paused inside the flap.
She had nothing to pack. Her clothes were thrown away the first day, too dirty and torn to be repaired. She took a deep breath and approached Bubbling Brook who sewed beads onto a new pair of moccasins.
“I will be leaving today.” Charity wrapped the robe tighter around her. “And I would like to thank you for helping me. I would also like to ask for a little food and water for my journey.”
“No. I get Red Feather. You stay.” Babbling Brook set aside her work and bustled outside.
She spoke English? Why hadn’t she said anything? Communication over the last few days would have been much easier.
A few minutes after leaving, Babbling Brook rushed back inside and started bundling furs. “We leave now. Talk later.”
“We’re leaving to take me home?” Hope lit in Charity.
“No. Men come. Take furs.” Babbling Brook ushered her outside, thrust several furs into her arms, then stepped back as others began to dismantle the teepee.
The usually organized and calm village had erupted into what looked like chaos. Women screamed, babies cried, dogs barked, and villagers ran here and there dismantling homes and tossing possessions onto the backs of horses.
“Wait.” Charity turned, her gaze raking the village in search of Red Feather. What if the men thought she was an Indian captive? What if they captured her themselves? They could take her farther away from Gabriel. She spotted Red Feather by the chief’s teepee.
She set the furs down and made her way through the milling villagers, dodging small children and dogs. “Who are these men?”
“Bad men. They take our furs and try to take our women.” Red Feather clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hide.”
She shook her head. “I must leave. I cannot be taken by these men. Please, understand. I only want to go home. If they catch me, they will only detain me,” Or worse. “My heart already aches more than I can bear.”
He nodded. “Good luck. May God go with you.”
“He will.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “Red Feather will be fine.”
“I will keep you and your people in my prayers.” Lifting the hem of her fringed skirt, Charity limped ran into the woods.
A shot echoed across the snow-covered village. Charity increased her pace. Her leg screamed. Behind her, someone yelled for her to stop. Hooves pounded.
She dodged fallen trees and boulders. If she didn’t find a place to hide soon, the man would capture her. Lord, help me!
###
Gabe stood beside the corral and stared in the direction of the mountain pass as he had done for the past two days. Each morning he climbed out of bed, fixed breakfast for the children, and went about his chores. All the while his heart yearned to search for Charity.
If she were still alive, did she think he had abandoned her? How could she possibly survive in the wilderness this long? She had no food or water. Did she know how to obtain any?
He forked more hay to the cattle. The children moped around the house worse than when Maggie had died. Of course, they were awfully young then. They most likely didn’t remember their first ma very much.
Cattle taken care of, Gabe headed to the barn, thanking God the snowed had stopped and the sun shone bright, its rays glancing off the pristine whiteness. Normally, he enjoyed the view. Today, all he could focus on was the possibility of Charity being lost in nature’s harshness. Again, he had failed to take care of his wife. To keep her safe.
When he had woke that morning and caught a glimpse of her dress hanging on a nail and her apron slung over a chair, he’d choked back a sob. Married less than a year and the loss of her left his life empty.
After checking that the horses were cared for, Gabe headed back to the house. Meg and Sam sat working on their numbers. Charity’s scarlet velvet cloak lay draped across the foot of his bed where he laid it each morning when he woke. Having it near him and being able to touch it, brought a small measure of comfort to his aching heart.
He probably shouldn’t keep it so close. Most likely, it wasn’t healthy. He sat in his chair and stared into the flames.
“Pa?” Sam put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. “Have you given up on Ma coming home?”
“I can’t leave you to make it over the pass.”
“Don’t you trust God to take care of her?” Sam knelt beside him. “He chose to take our other ma home, He might want to take this one, but until we know for sure, we shouldn’t give up hope.”
Gabe ruffled his hair. “You’re right, son. When did you become so wise?”
“You taught me. In the Bible stories you read.” Sam flashed a grin, warming Gabe’s heart.
Gabe had a mighty high opinion of himself to think he could do better than God at keeping people safe. It wasn’t Gabe’s decision when it was a person’s time to be called home. Sure, he could be sad about losing Maggie, and possibly Charity, but it wasn’t because he didn’t do his part to keep them safe.
“Son, you’ve lifted my spirits. There is still hope, and I think the situation deserves something special.” He had done nothing but mope around for two days, and that type of behavior was no good for the children. “I believe there is enough cocoa powder left for some hot chocolate.”
Sam and Meg cheered. Meg grabbed the kettle off the top of the stove while Sam took mugs off the shelves. Charity’s blue tin mugs. If he had to do so every minute, Gabe would continue to remind himself that God was in control. Each time sorrow reared its ugly head, Gabe would need to hand the situation back over to God.
“I’m right proud of the way the two of you kept things going while I was gone the other day,” he said, taking his customary place at the head of the table. “I pray I never have to be gone that long again, but if I ever should, and you feel the need, go to Hiram and Mabel.”
Sam measured the cocoa powder into their mugs. “We were thinking on that the other day. If you hadn’t come by daybreak, we would have rode my pony over. Don’t worry, Pa. We can handle things around here. You worry about fetching Ma once the pass clears.”
Gabe poured hot water into the mugs. “You really think she’s on the other side, do you?”
Sam nodded. “Yep, saw it in a dream. She’s making her way back to us.”
That night, before Gabe crawled into bed, he hung Charity’s cloak back on its peg where it belonged. He stroked the fabric, then turned down the lamp. God would take care of Charity. Gabe had to only trust him. For the first time in two nights, he closed his eyes, rolled over, and slept.
35
Charity peered from her hiding place beneath a mound of leaves and debris as two soldiers rode slowly past. Tobacco smoke whirled around them. She held her breath to ward off a sneeze and prayed they would hurry past.
“She couldn’t have gone far,” one of them said. “You would think a white captive would want to go back to her people.”
“Maybe she’s been with the Injuns for too long. Doesn’t know she isn’t one of them.”
“Reckon you’re right. Some captives forget how to act white. I ain’t gonna ride around in this cold all day. Let’s head back to the village and help round the others up. That’s more fun anyway. Did you see them run?” He laughed, the noise startling birds from the trees.
They turned, leaving Charity alone. She expelled her breath and closed her eyes, laying her head on her folded hands. Her leg hurt so much she wanted
to cry, and she was so close to having her plans to return home thwarted. She would not be captured! If she were, she would lie down and die.
She could hear screams from the village and the occasional cry of a child. She would need to remain hidden until the sounds quieted. Her heart ached for her new friends, and she prayed their rounding up would not result in any injuries or deaths. She wondered why Gabriel never mentioned Red Feather’s tribe was destined for the reservation.
What would it be like to have someone dictate where she should live? There were times in her life when she felt as if she had no freedom, but never to the extent of being rounded up like cattle and shuffled off to a land that didn’t belong to her.
When sounds from the village ceased, and no hoof beats pounded the forest trails, Charity climbed from her sanctuary. Her few hours of rest calmed the ache in her leg to a degree she felt ready to commence her journey. As a precaution, she searched for a stout stick to aide her progress. Finding one that her hand comfortably wrapped around, she set off with a smile on her face. By evening, she would gaze again upon Gabriel’s and the children’s faces and warm herself in front of her own fire.
The sun sat high in the sky by the time she reached the blocked pass. With the temperature warming a bit during the day, and freezing at night, she hoped the snow was packed hard enough for her to travel across. She tested the firmness with her stick. The crust seemed strong, and if she jammed her stick in enough, she could make steps to climb to the top. She lifted a prayer of thanks, and placing her stick before her foot, set off across the expanse of white.
A few times, she sank to her knee or her hip, but she kept going despite the bone-numbing chill and increasing pain from her recent wound. Her mouth dried and her stomach rumbled, yet she still moved forward. Determination fueled her steps. The desire to see her family warmed her from the inside out.
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 69
