Read CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) Online
Authors: Cynthia Hickey
The fire ate its way up to the top of an aspen. With a crack, the tree fell, forming a fiery bridge, and enabling the flames to dance their way to the opposite side.
“Sam, Meg, I won’t tell you again to get in the house.” Gabriel rushed the flames
and shoveled dirt on top of the burning tree. Hiram did the same.
Charity grabbed a blanket and beat at the smoldering grass.
H
er
hairpins came loose, and her
hair tumbled down her back
, almost as red as the encroaching flames
. Even as the fire continued to consume its way closer, she battled
with the fierceness of a mother bear. G
abe wanted to grab her in his arms and praise her efforts.
“Sam!” She straightened. “We need more water.”
“No.” Gabe glared. “The children stay in the house.”
“They can help. This is their home, too.” Charity
held her skirt above her ankles and
stomped on an ember. “The fire isn’t farther down the creek. They can fill the buckets there.”
Gabe knew he’d lost the battle with her when she gathered all the blankets in her arms and tripped her way to the water. “Come on, Sam. Meg,
you
stay put.”
The air filled with smoke, burning his throat and stinging his eyes. Charity and Hiram must suffer the same, yet neither complained.
T
he fire forced them back, foot-by-foot, as if its sole purpose was to devour the weeks of work Gabe spent in framing their new home. The fire wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t have time to cut more lumber,
even if he had
the funds to purchase more.
“We’re losing it.” Hiram beat at the flames with his shovel.
“No, we’re not.” Gabe hefted more dirt, working as feverishly as a dog digging up a bone
for its last meal
. Dust mingled in the air with the smoke, forcing him to pull the neckline of his shirt over his nose.
Charity coughed, tears streaming down soot-covered cheeks.
Hiram was right. The fire was winning. Gabe tossed down his shovel and dipped a bucket into the shallow creek, the heat searing the hair on his arms. He tossed bucket after bucket on the flames making their way to the house. “No!”
Charity thrust another bucket of water into his hands. “I’ll fill, you toss. Hiram can beat with the blankets.”
Gabe nodded. Charity
O’Connell
Williams was one of a kind, and he counted himself a lucky man
to have her by his side
.
The sun continued to set as they fought for everything they owned, until, finally, the flames died, petering out to black ash.
Charity sagged to the ground. “The trees. They’re gone.”
Gabe plopped next to her. “They’ll grow back. I owe you our home. You and Hiram.”
She grunted. “It’s my home, too, as you seem to so often forget.” She glanced back at the house. “Meg, bring me the medical box, please.”
“Why, are you injured?” Gabe ran his gaze over her.
“Just my leg. My dress caught fire
,
and I stuck my leg in the creek to put out the fire.”
Without thinking, he shoved aside her dress, revealing blackened undergarments and a blistering
cal
f
. He scooped her in his arms and ran for the house. “Why didn’t you say something
you stubborn woman
?”
“Because you would
ha
ve stopped to take care of me, and there wasn’t time.” She
laid
her head on his shoulder. “It burns something fierce, though.”
Hiram followed them, and stopped at the door. “I’m heading home now, Gabe. Want me to send the missus to look after Charity?”
Gabe
maneuvered around farm equipment and clean laundry to s
e
t
Charity on the bed and
then
turned, extending his hand. “We couldn’t have done this without you, neighbor. I owe you more than I can say.
If you hadn’t warned us, we would’ve never got the trench dug.
”
Not that it did a lot of good, but the fire hadn’t reached the new
house
or the barn.
“No, you keep your wife to home. I can care for Charity.”
Hiram grinned through a blackened face. “You’d a done the same. You all right, Charity?”
“I’ll be fine. No need to worry Mabel.” She smiled, her teeth white through the soot.
As soon as Hiram
had
left, Gabe hurried back to Charity’s side where Meg waited, a canister of salve in her hand.
Charity sighed and slapped his hand away. “Let me do it myself. It isn’t proper.”
“But, I’m your husband.” Not proper? Had she inhaled too much smoke?
“Not in that way.”
“It’s blistering, Charity.” He ripped her undergarments to above the knee. “Yours isn’t the first woman’s leg I’ve seen.” Although it was quite
shapely
. He scooped some of the ointment in his fingers and spread it across the burn, trying not to dwell on how soft the underside of her leg had felt when he shoved up her skirts.
“Meg, honey, can you get me some clean water and a rag?” He smiled in his daughter’s worried face.
“Is Ma going to be all right?”
Meg’s
lip trembled.
“Right as rain.” Gabe waved Sam over. “Keep an eye outside, all right? Let me know if any embers start back up.”
“Sure, Pa.” Sam skedaddled out the door.
When Meg
returned
with a bowl of water and a rag, Gabe dunked the square piece of flannel,
w
rung it out, and prepared to wipe Charity’s face.
Her eyes widened, and she shoved his hands away again.
She spoke slowly and distinctly.
“You
w
ill
n
ot
b
athe me!”
“I’m just washing your face.” She sure was standoffish for someone in pain.
“Please, Gabriel, go outside and see what work you can find. I’m sure there’s plenty.”
“Why? The fire’s out.” He scratched his head. “You worked as good as a man out there today. Let me take care of you now.” And forever, if she’d let him. They still had a conversation to finish.
“I don’t want you to.”
Tears
welled
in her eyes
. “It’s embarrassing. I need to change my clothes and clean up properly.”
“But you’re injured.” Maybe he was dense, but he didn’t understand the problem.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then gave him a stern look. “My dress is burned, my … under
garments are
ripped, thanks to you, and I’m filthy. I would really like to clean up. If you’re that worried, Meg can help
me
.”
Her Irish brogue deepened with each word, a clear sign her temper was about to flare as strong as the fire had burned outside. Planting his hands on his knees, he pushed to his feet. “All right. But if you need anything, call out.”
“I will, and thank you.” He shuffled to the door and stopped. “What if it gets infected?”
She pointed. “Out.”
She sure was prickly. Gabe stepped outside, leaving the door open, and scanned the area around the house. Black aspen skeletons waved toward heaven. Equally dark patches of grass covered the ground, stopping twenty feet away from the barn. Gabe looked to heaven.
Thank you, Lord. We could have lost everything
.
Sam poked at the ground with a burned stick, his pants and shirt as filthy as Gabe felt he most likely was. “Come on, Son. Let’s head down creek and wash this grime off.” He slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “I’m right proud of you. You did the work of a man out there.”
Sam’s face brightened
, then saddened
. “Is Ma going to be okay? I couldn’t bear to lose another ma.”
Gabe squeezed. “She’ll be fine
, but sh
e’s as grumpy as an old bear.”
“Yep,” Sam giggled. “Same as every other time she’s around you. Why is that?”
Gabe wished he knew. “The relationship between a man and a woman is complicated. Only God truly understands it.” And he sure wished the Almighty would see fit to share the knowledge.
10
The next morning, Charity limped outside
. H
er burned leg screech
ed
with pain
. Every time she recalled Gabriel ripping the leg of her under
drawers, her face flamed, and she broke out into a sweat.
Married or not, the gesture had been too intimate
, not to mention it was the only pair of bloomers she owned
.
No amount of mending would make them look nice.
When would she find time to sew a new pair?
Today was the fourth of July, and everything in front of her held the lovely, festive color of scorched grey. Oh, well. It was freedom they celebrated, and whether the Stoltzes still
arrived
as planned or not, Charity intended to have that picnic she’d worked so hard cooking for.
She made her way slowly to the barn. They’d need something for a makeshift table.
She found
planks
for the top
, barrels for the legs, and crates for seats. One by one she dragged them outside and sent Meg for the Irish lace tablecloth in her trunk
—one
of the few possessions Charity
’s mother had left her
.
In the center of the table, she set an apple pie, a pan of cornpone,
and her blue speckled tin plates
and matching mugs
. Flowers would have been nice, but the fire destroyed
them all
, unless she wanted to take a hike upstream, which she didn’t
.
There wasn’t time, and her injured leg would never forgive her.
Once the table was set for company, Charity headed back to the stove to baste the ribs again. The smell of homemade sauce and mouthwatering, beef
cooked overnight
filled the sod house.
“Who set up the table outside?” Gabriel stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
Charity turned. “I did, why?”
“I thought I told you to take it easy on your leg.”
“I’m not an invalid, Gabriel. I’m perfectly capable of carrying on with my work.” She replaced the lid on the ribs. Her leg did pain her, but she’d planned this day for weeks and didn’t intend to let anything happen to keep it from being a
s
wonderful
a
day
as she had planned it to be
.
Gabriel pulled a leather book from the mantel and plopped into his chair
with a huff
. The sound of rustling paper competed with the song of
Sam’s and Meg’s laughter drifting from outside
.
Did the man really have time to read? Charity
loved reading, but this wasn’t the time. She
could think of plenty of work if he didn’t have any
thing to do
. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for a Bible verse on freedom,” he said without glancing up.
“I’d like to read a couple at supper.”
“What does the Bible have to do with the Fourth of July?” She recalled him saying the family
read a lot of Bible stories on
winter evenings, but this was the middle of
the
summer.
“You’d be surprised. Try to rest your leg
, even if for a little while
.
You’ll regret it if you don’t.
” Gabriel flashed a grin
, which set Charity’s heart fluttering,
and took his Bible outside.