Bartered Bride Romance Collection (15 page)

“Charity, I don’t hold with paying my son to do essentials,” Ethan said quietly after the kids were in bed one evening. He shook his head. “Kids must learn to do things just because they need to be done.”

Charity’s eyes darkened. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I mean no harm.”

“You don’t need to apologize, gal. I just figured we’d best talk this over since Tad’s marble bag seems to have developed a notable bulge.”

“The only reason I have so many kaleidoscopes on my button string is because my teacher loved them and gave them to us as awards.” She dipped her head. “I treasured them, and I simply wanted Tad to have good memories about learning.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“He’s your son, Ethan. As a father, it’s your duty to step in when I’ve done something wrong.”

He stayed silent for a moment. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Charity. As a matter of fact, I recollect earning a few prizes for spelling bees and the like. I reckon it won’t hurt to have the boy develop a fondness for studying. I want him to learn and to help others because it is good and right—not so he can be rewarded.”

“Your goal is noble, Ethan. I know God loves cheerful givers—and the giving isn’t supposed to just be money in an offering plate. Tad sees how often you lend a hand to others. I hold no doubt he’ll grow up to emulate the servant’s heart you demonstrate. If you’ll excuse me, I need to fetch my shawl.”

She slipped away, and Ethan shook his head in disbelief. She thought
he
had a servant’s heart? Those first days, he’d worried she was too dainty, frail—even prissy—to tend to matters. She’d proven him wrong. Little Charity Davis pitched right in. Just yesterday he’d told Banner, “The word
idle
isn’t in Charity’s vocabulary.”

As a matter of fact, Charity’s attitude made their wagon a pleasant place. She was a cheerful riser and always saw to it that everyone had a good, hot breakfast to start off the day. She corrected the children with a fair balance of firmness and humor. No task was too dirty, too small, or too tough. She was never too tired to help with one more thing or to see if someone else could use a bit of assistance. Who would ever guess this fine lady would walk long, dry, dusty miles each day and collect buffalo chips to fuel her cook fire?

With her acceptance of the hardships, those around her realized they had no more call to complain than did she … yet she sat there, complimenting him simply for doing a man’s work to provide for his own and assure the wagon train kept moving.

Lord, what am I to do with this longing in my heart? Your Word teaches we set our affections. I’m doing my dead-level best not to set my heart on that gal, but I’m failing at it. We’re both believers, but other than that, we’d be unequally yoked. I’d never be the fancy kind of man she deserves, and I’d never be able to provide the kind of life she’s accustomed to. Give me strength, I pray…
.

Chapter 5

T
he sun beat down unmercifully, and Charity wished for nothing more than a sip of cool lemonade and a chance to soak her feet. She’d already walked nine miles today, and from the looks of it, they’d cover another five or six before Jason called a halt. Cricket didn’t want to ride in the bumpy wagon, but her legs were too tired for her to walk any longer. She lifted her arms high and pled, “Up.”

“All right, sweet pea.” All of the muscles in Charity’s shoulders and back protested this new load, and she finally admitted to herself she couldn’t manage this much longer.
Just a few more days
, she told herself,
but how can I last in this terrible heat without water?

Patterson pushed them hard for the next three days. Now, as they used Sublette’s Cutoff, they had no source of water whatsoever. Banner convinced Charity to stop wearing all three petticoats.

She wore two.

Instead of having one wet cloth to comfort them through the day, Charity started making two. She even caved in and started leaving the uppermost button of her dresses and shirtwaists unfastened. Patterson was firm about everyone keeping on a hat or sunbonnet. The storekeeper at Fort Kearny had flavoring bottles, and she’d bought a few. She took to placing a dab of spearmint or vanilla on the stones they sucked on to keep their mouths moist.

Even with it as hot as it was, Tad seemed almost immune to the heat. Cricket seemed more affected, and Charity finally took to dressing her in just her frock and drawers, leaving off the slip entirely. When Myrtle confessed she was doing the same with little Emily, Charity let out a small sigh of relief. Minding children demanded making hundreds of tiny decisions on a daily basis.

At noon Cricket scooted into the wagon for a nap. Ethan silently saddled Charity’s mare. “Charity, the oxen are straining in the heat. We’ll reach water in two days, but you’ll never survive the heat if you don’t ride.”

“But Queenie must be feeling the heat,” she protested.

“Your mare’s a fine animal,” he said quietly. “But if it comes down to you or her, there’s no choice to be made.”

She blushed vividly. “Still, I cannot ride.”

“Why not?”

Charity stared at the horse. “We don’t have a lady’s saddle.”

He cupped his hands around her waist and squeezed in gentle reassurance. “Your gown’s full, Charity. You can ride quite modestly. It’s actually far more stable, and I’d not have you ride sidesaddle. Simply put, your safety is too important. Other women are riding western style, so you needn’t fret.”

Western style
. He’d chosen his words carefully in order to avoid crassly mentioning she’d be astride. Before she could agree or disagree, he murmured, “Here you go, gal,” and lifted her into Queenie’s saddle. Silently, he tugged her hem down to cover her, handed her the reins, and walked off.

She carried Cricket in front of herself for the next day and a half. Small as she was, the little girl still radiated heat like an oven. The hours in the saddle caused pains to shoot through Charity’s lower limbs and back, but she knew it was the only way she’d manage to assure little Cricket and she would both survive until they reached water.

“Happy birthday, Charity!” Banner called over in the morning.

“Thank you! How did you know it was my birthday?”

Banner grinned. “Your ma mentioned you’d be having your birthday on the trail. I remembered because it’s my anniversary.”

“Felicitations, Banner! God surely blessed you with a fine man.” Charity lifted the lid on the Dutch oven to check on her biscuits. “I brought along a bit of cocoa. I could bake a cake for us to share at supper.”

“I thought you said you were just about out of eggs.”

Charity shrugged. “I am, but my recipe only uses one.” Folks stored eggs in the flour barrels to keep them from breaking. Several families had a few chickens in cages strapped to the sides of their wagons, but jostled around as they were, the hens didn’t lay well.

It took a bit of ingenuity, but Charity’s cake turned out fairly well. One corner got a bit crisp, but they’d all learned to eat singed food while on the trail. Food couldn’t be wasted. They gathered about the campfire that night, and Banner slipped something to Charity in a knotted hanky.

Charity gave her a questioning look.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Charity carefully unknotted the cloth and found three buttons inside. “The pewter one, that’s from me. The other two, I swiped them from your mama’s chest. She had them tied together with that there pretty little bow, so I reckoned she planned on giving them to you today.”

Charity fingered them all. Her eyes filled with tears until she couldn’t even see the buttons clearly anymore. “Thank you, Banner. You don’t know how precious these are to me.”

“Let’s string them on now. You don’t know how much I’ve worried about losing them!”

Within minutes, Hyacinth, Myrtle, Abby, Gracie, and Leticia all gathered about. Soon, more of the ladies from the train joined the circle around Charity. Each gave Charity a button as a birthday gift. While Charity visited, Banner carefully added each of the birthday buttons to the collection. The strand of thick thread was almost filled.

“Not many more, and you’ll have that string done,” Harriet decided. “We’ll all keep an eye out for that thousandth button. When you get it from your beau, we’ll all know your heart’s taken.”

After all of the women left, Charity banked the fire and turned toward the wagon. Ethan blocked her way. He pressed something into her hand. “I didn’t want you to go to sleep without this. Happy birthday.”

Charity turned so the moon would cast a beam on the button. Though just an inch across, the wood had been whittled into a bow with flowing ties. A tiny heart nestled in the center point. “Oh, Ethan, it’s exquisite! Did you do this yourself?”

“It’s nothing,” he said modestly.

“I disagree! You astound me. Why, it even matches the ribbon carved on my highboy and headboard! Thank you. Thank you so very much. You’re such a talented man. I’ll treasure this.”

“You can slip it on your string tomorrow. It’s been a long day. You’d best turn in.” He lifted her into the wagon and softly said, “Good night and pleasant dreams.”

The next morning, Charity added Ethan’s bow button to her string. Tad started playing with the opposite end and singsong counted along the strand. At one point, he frowned. “Miss Davis, I never noticed this wasn’t just one button. Look.”

She leaned over. “Yes. Those were from the Shay twins. See? One bell is silver; the other is gold.” Charity secured Ethan’s lovely bow to her string and tied the end.

“Can I ride in the wagon and look at your buttons this morning?”

“It’ll be bumpy.”

Tad hitched a shoulder. “I don’t care.”

A long while later, Tad jumped out of the wagon and ran to her. He grabbed her hand and paid no attention to the fact that several women and children were within earshot. “Miss Davis!”

“What is it?”

“Your button string. I counted it three times to be sure. You finished it. You don’t need any more … and the button Pa gave you is the thousandth!”

Chapter 6

M
r. Cole, I need a moment of your time.” Charity clutched the button in her hand. She cast a quick look at the others. They milled about within hearing distance instead of tending to their nooning chores, so she tacked on shakily, “In private.”