She pushed aside the thought that she might, at that moment, be walking across Amos’s grave. Instead of rejoicing, she prayed for God’s mercy for a man so eaten up with bitterness that he had resorted to violence and evil intentions. It surprised her to realize she actually felt sorry for him.
A rabbit darted past her. Charity stifled a scream, then gave a nervous giggle. If only she had a rifle. Her stomach growled louder.
The creek would most likely be at the bottom of the mountain. She switched directions, sliding a few feet until she reached a small waterfall cascading into a brook. She cupped her hands and drank her fill of the icy water, and wished she had a container to carry some with. God had provided the water, He would see her home safely.
Straightening, she studied her surroundings, deciding which direction she should go. Down the mountain, for sure. The creek that ran in front of the soddy would take her home if she found it and followed it in the correct direction. Standing around wouldn’t get her home and faster. Slipping and sliding, she made her way down to level ground.
She prayed she would find it soon before frost bite set in her fingers and toes. Moccasins were not the warmest footwear she had ever had, and her trip down the small cliff to the water had not done her leg any good.
There! She increased her limping gait at the sight of a frozen silver ribbon, winding its way home.
###
Gabe sank the axe into a chunk of wood. Two pieces of wood fell to the side. They most likely had enough stacked against the soddy to last the winter, but his hands needed to be kept busy. His gaze, despite last night’s revelation that God would take care of Charity, still roamed too often to the tree line.
The sun had begun its descent. Another night fell with Charity gone. He plunked the axe into the tree stump and popped the kinks from his back. It would take self-discipline not to grab Charity’s cloak and wrap himself in it when he slept. Last night, he had promised himself he wouldn’t do that again. Doing so was admitting defeat. That she was gone for good.
Lady plopped on the ground next to him. She rarely left his side since they had returned from their search. She lay to his right, her soulful eyes trained on him. Her ears pricked, and a low woof sounded deep in her throat. The bark quickly turned to a whine, and she dashed toward the creek. Gabe turned and squinted through the dusk.
His heart stopped at the sight of a fiery-haired woman limping toward him. She lifted a hand, then fell to her knees. Gabe sprinted toward her.
“Charity.” He pushed the excited dog away, then gathered Charity in his arms and rushed to the house, bursting inside.
“Meg! Heat water for coffee.” He placed Charity on top of the quilt, then tugged the smelly buffalo robe off her. Indian garb. How had she gotten there? A blood stain covered her right thigh. “Down, Lady.” The dogs, ecstatic to see their mistress, kept poking their massive heads in his way. “Sam, control the dogs, please.”
Sam wrapped an arm around each of their necks and pulled them aside.
Modesty forgotten, he pulled the deer skin dress higher, and took in the sight of stitches, dark against her pale skin. A couple of them had pulled open. It was her blood he had found in the snow. His heart fell to his knees.
Who injured her? His hands formed into fists.
“Gabriel, I’m home,” she whispered hoarsely, keeping her eyes closed. Her tongue flicked out across her chapped lips. “I made it.”
He smoothed the hair away from her face. “Yes, you did. Rest, sweetheart. Coffee is coming. We’ll have you warm in no time.”
“Will she be all right?” Sam ordered the dogs to stay and approached the bed with Meg at his side. Tears shimmered in their eyes.
“I think so.” Gabe took another quilt from the foot of his bed and laid it over Charity. “She’s exhausted and cold. Nothing we can’t fix.”
Meg rushed to make the coffee. Gabe propped pillows behind Charity and helped her sit up.
“Can you manage to drink by yourself?” he asked her.
“I may need a little help, at first. Also, I’m starving. I’ve been walking since morning.” Her eyes flicked open. “I’ll drink the coffee and try to stay awake.”
“I searched for you.” He took the cup from Meg. “Thank you, Meg. Could you and Sam go to the barn for a few minutes while Ma and I talk?” He couldn’t wait any longer to find out what happened to her. He held the mug for Charity to sip from while the children left. “I search until the avalanche almost buried me, then I headed home to care for the children. I couldn’t leave them any longer than I already had.”
She nodded. “I understand. I was with Red Feather’s people. Amos thought he was trading me to them in exchange for forgiveness for the girl’s death. Red Feather played along like he didn’t know me. He arranged for a woman to care for me.” She took the cup from him. “Oh, that feels so good.
“Anyway, a young Indian brave went after Amos in retribution, but the avalanche took Amos before the brave could.” She took a deep breath. “The morning I left, the soldiers arrived and started rounding the tribe together for the reservation. I escaped in the confusion.”
Gabe swallowed back his anger and forced his voice to remain calm. He wanted to ask how Red Feather was, but Amos’s actions stayed in the forefront of his mind. He would worry about Red Feather later. “Did Amos hurt you?”
“I tried to escape the night we camped, so he gave me a flesh wound.” She tossed out the words like they meant nothing. “Minor enough that I could still walk, serious enough I couldn’t run.”
“He shot you!” Gabe lunged to his feet. “If the man weren’t already dead…”
She placed a hand on his arm. “What Amos intended for evil, God turned for good. I made my peace, Gabriel.” Her eyes pleaded for him to understand. “God used this circumstance to open my eyes and show me what really mattered; what is really important. You should be pleased for me. For us.”
He knelt beside her and took her hand in his. “I could have lost you, Charity.” He rested his forehead in her lap. “I’ve been out of my head with grief and worry until Sam reminded me that God carried you in His hands. It’s been a struggle every minute for me to leave you in the best place you could be—God’s hands.
“I don’t want you to leave come spring.” He lifted his head and stared into eyes the color of summer grass. “I should be sorry that I wagered and tricked you into marrying me, but I’m not. If I hadn’t made that stupid bet with Amos, I would not have had a need for a wife. I owe him for giving me you.
“I love you more than I could possibly express in a lifetime. You mean everything to me. Please say you’ll stay with me. If not me, then the children. I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”
###
The words she had waited for years to hear from a man pierced her heart. Now, she was loved by a wonderful, godly man and by her Heavenly Father. Together they could improve this land and raise a passel of children.
“I don’t want to leave. I’ve never wanted to leave.” She ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “You are the sun that rises in the morning to me. If I didn’t have but this moment, it would be enough.”
He took the cup from her and set it on the floor, then cradled her face in his hands. Slowly, he brushed his lips across hers before finally claiming them as a husband should claim his wife. When he had left her totally breathless, he pulled back an inch, his breath tickling her skin. “You have made me the happiest man in Montana, Charity O’Connell Williams.”
Her heart leaped. “Knowing you love me has made me the happiest woman on earth. Kiss me again.”
He chuckled and leaned down.
The End
MOUNTAIN REDEMPTION
Woman of Courage, book 4
By Cynthia Hickey
Thank you to God, my family and my fans. None of this would be possible without you. Also, thank you to my dad for telling me about my relatives taking axes to the moonshiners trucks. It made for a great scene
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
1
Pine Ridge, Arkansas, 1925
A gunshot shattered the brisk autumn day, piercing the late-afternoon silence.
Phoebe Lillie’s head jerked up, and she raised a hand to shade her eyes, peering over the hills of Pine Ridge. She frowned. Surely that wasn’t Pa still hunting.
Grandma Edna paused in climbing the knoll and stooped to pluck something from the travel-worn path leading to the cabin. A cry of alarm escaped her.
She bustled forward and handed Phoebe a straight pin. “Evil’s a-coming. This had the point aimed right at me.”
“Then you should have left it lie.” Phoebe rolled her eyes at her grandmother’s superstition.
“No, no, can’t do that. That would bring worse luck. Where’s your sense, girl? Nineteen-years-old and you don’t know something simple like that?” She brushed past Phoebe into the dim recesses of the cabin. “Where’s the young’uns?”
“Chores.” Phoebe left the door open to allow the breeze to circulate and clutched her worn sweater closer. Her baby sister wailed from the front room. “Maggie’s waking now, Grandma.”
The sound of another gunshot ricocheted across the Hollow. Grandma put a hand to her bosom. “That noise is going to send me to an early grave. Where’s your pa? It can’t be him hunting. He most likely finished hours ago. It’s almost suppertime.”
“I’m getting worried. Pa told me he wanted to get started cutting the Timothy grass tomorrow. There’s no way he should still be hunting.” Phoebe bent and lifted one-year-old Maggie from a pallet on the floor. She wrinkled her nose against the strong odor wafting from the wet diaper.
“Talk around Dixon’s store is that the selling of moonshine is on the rise.” Grandma lowered herself into her rocking chair. “Anyways, he’s going to have someone deliver the sugar and batteries. Gave us a fair price for the eggs and butter too.”
Phoebe glanced upward. Thank you, Lord, but please curb Grandma’s spending. Christmas isn’t far away, and the little ones will be expecting a gift.
If something happened to Pa, the holidays would be leaner than usual. Another hardship thrust on Phoebe. They wouldn’t survive the holiday season with another parent gone. Losing Ma had been hard enough, leaving a hole in the family that Phoebe could never fill.
Maggie gurgled at her, reaching to twine her pudgy fingers in Phoebe’s hair. The baby’s smile wrenched Phoebe’s heart. She looked so much like their ma. Pa hadn’t held the baby once since Ma died birthing her. Never cuddled her soft skin or been on the receiving end of a gummy smile. Nothing. He missed so much.
Unease slithered along her back. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. Phoebe shivered, hugging the baby to her chest. She’d experienced the same feeling the night Maggie was born. Something had happened to Pa. She knew it as clear as if a newspaper printed the story on the front page.
Phoebe jolted as her other siblings burst through the door, clamoring for supper. After handing Maggie to her sixteen-year-old sister, Viola, Phoebe limped to the window. Pa had left before sunup. Now, the sun began its crimson descent over the mountain. For the first time, the familiar sound of gunshots sent tremors through her. She sighed and closed the door.
Viola tied Maggie into a straight-back chair with a dishtowel around the baby’s waist then started setting the table. Phoebe cut cornbread and poured glasses full of buttermilk. She cast anxious glances toward Pa’s chair at the head of the table. Ma’s chair remained as empty as the day she died. No one sat there or claimed the spot of woman of the house. It was time. Once she’d finished serving the seven others, she straightened her back and took Ma’s seat next to Pa’s.
The others stared for a moment then transferred their attentions to their plates. Grandma nodded and smiled. Phoebe relaxed. The time had come to take her mother’s place.
She glanced around the table. If her premonitions about Pa were correct, it’d be up to her and her seventy-two-year-old grandmother to make sure the children reached adulthood, a difficult task in the Ozark Mountains, even with two parents. Phoebe’s shoulders slumped.
The chunks of cornbread swam in the cold milk. Her stomach rebelled at the sight of the too common meal. Her family spooned the simple dinner into hungry mouths. She should’ve cooked beans to go with it or made one of her sisters cook.
She eyed her quilting frame hanging from the ceiling. On the floor under it sat a box of quilt squares waiting to be sewn. She couldn’t do everything. Not and finish the work that actually brought in money.
Footsteps sounded on the wood-planked front porch. Phoebe’s heart leaped. It could be Pa.
James rose and slid the beam holding the door closed. He turned with a grin. “It’s Eli Coffman with the sugar.”
Why Eli? Anyone but him.
Grandma’s toothless smile stretched her wrinkled face. “Chocolate gravy for breakfast.”
Cheers rose around the table. Phoebe sighed.
Eli entered with a ten pound bag of sugar in one hand and batteries in the other. His muddy-brown eyes fixed on Phoebe. Revulsion gnawed a hole in her stomach. “I got over here as quick as I could. Had to feed the little ones first.”
Phoebe forced a greeting on her lips. “We’ve corn bread and fresh buttermilk.” Please don’t stay. She couldn’t bear to look at him over her kitchen table.
He shook his head. “I thank you kindly, but I’d best be getting back.”
Relief flooded through her.
“Walk him out, Phoebe.” Grandma waved her fork.
Curse proper manners. Stifling a groan, Phoebe stood and sidestepped around Eli. The stench of sour corn mash rolled off him. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and stormed outside. The chilly night air slapped her flushed cheeks. She drew in deep, cleansing breaths.
Eli brushed past her, his hand trailing down her arm as he went to stand on the bottom step and peered up at her. “Have you done some more thinking on my proposal? My little ones need a ma.”
“So do my brothers and sisters.” She crossed her arms.
Eli’s eyes hardened. “Still holding out for love? Like there’s a flock of men willing to marry a woman with a gimpy leg, no matter how comely her features?”
She raised her chin and wished for the shotgun propped in the corner of the dining room. “You can leave now. Your little ones are home alone.” Phoebe moved inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the rough wood and closed her eyes.
A left leg only an inch shorter than the other didn’t cause any more problems than back-ache at the end of a busy day. If a man couldn’t love her despite her handicap, he could go to the devil. “JJ, light the lamp and put the batteries in the radio. The Hay’s weekly broadcast comes on in a few minutes.”
James’s face lit up. “You sure we can spare them?”
She nodded. “There’s little enough pleasure in the world.” Phoebe shuffled to the sink where Viola had already filled it with steaming water from a kettle. Her hands stung as the heat melted away the outdoor chill, sending biting ants through her fingers.
“You’re a fool for turning him down.” Grandma’s knitting needles clacked behind her. “You’re going to be an old maid. Can’t afford to be choosy at your age.”
Phoebe shrugged. If her pa didn’t show up soon, she’d have more responsibility than she could handle without a husband tying her down. And a drunkard of a husba
nd at that.
She lifted a glass from the soapy water and set it in a basin of clear water. Besides, her quilt-making and taking care of her siblings kept her busy enough. There was no time in Phoebe’s life for a husband of her own.
*
Frigid mountain air tore at his clothing and bit at his cheeks as the sun disappeared over the craggy peaks of the Ozarks. Jacob Wright set his satchel down, hitched his pack higher on his shoulder, and then flexed his stiff fingers.
He shuffled along the road, rocks digging into the soles of his shoes. Weeks of riding the rails looking for work and preaching in whatever town would have him, had left him ragged and exhausted. He looked forward to the peace of Pine Ridge, Arkansas, and its simple people.
The tiny ad in Compton’s newspaper asking for a teacher was a gift from heaven. At least he’d have a roof over his head, food to eat, and cash in his pocket. Not as much as when he’d been a deputy in Little Rock, but enough.
He shivered. Why didn’t this little-known place have a decent road in and out? He winced at his bitter thoughts. Sorry, Lord, don’t mean to complain.
Jacob glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock. No wonder lights flickered off in windows of the shack and cabin windows he passed. He needed to find Dixon’s store, an impossible task on a moonless night. Staying out in the cold didn’t appeal to him. He’d stop at the next home he came to and beg the occupants to lend him a corner to sleep in.
A light flickered through the trees. A dog barked. Jacob jerked. Sounded close. He searched the trees.
There … a small cabin nestled among the oaks and pines. Smoke curled from the chimney like vapors. Well, at least someone was home. A red-bone hound bounded toward him.
He held out his palm to the dog. “Good boy. I’m just looking for a place to lay my head. Hey, the house!”
“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice came to him through an open window.
“I’m the new school teacher, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m lost.”
The door opened, silhouetting what appeared to be a child holding a rifle as big as her. He’d definitely stepped into another world when friendly folks were greeted with a gun. “Stay where you are. I haven’t heard about a teacher.”
Woman of Courage (Four Full length Historical Christian Romances in One Volume): Woman of Courage Series Page 70
