CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) (18 page)

             
She
slipped into the barn and pulled a carrot from the pocket of her apron. She’d taken to visiting Ruby each afternoon, after chores and before supper preparations. Something about the gentle nickering and nuzzles
helped
fill the empty
spaces
in Charity’s heart
that
ach
ed
to be filled with affection.
Between the pets and the children, the loneliness dropped away more each day.

             
She held the carrot out to the horse and rubbed a hand up and down Ruby’s muzzle while the horse munched. “Funny, how a four-legged creature has become my best friend. Thought it might be Patches, but then you came along and stole me heart.” Charity laid her forehead against Ruby’s.

             
If only Gabriel seemed as happy to spend time with her as Ruby did. Or the children. Or the cat. The man wolfed down breakfast each morning and dashed out the door, not to be seen again until suppertime.
If Charity wanted to see him, it was up to her to find a way, mostly in the form of taking water or food to him.

             
Charity gave Ruby a pat then moved to look out the barn door.
Bits of green poked through the blackened dirt. The creek had returned to
its
normal depth, and birds to the branches of the skeletal aspens. She glanced upstream. Dare she make another attempt at the gold? Who knew w
hen
Gabriel would leave the homestead again for hours at a time?
Lately, he’d stuck around like glue on a shoe
,
hanging from the roof of the new house, or working around the barn. S
he loved seeing him around, but winter would arrive soon and put an end to
any opportunity of
gold panning
.

             
Winter. Shut inside with her husband. He’d almost kissed her that first day of learning to ride, she knew it. But she’d got
ten
scared and jumped off him as if he
woul
d bite her. Foolishness. If she wanted him to ask her to stay, she would have to win him with womanly ways. That would
more than likely
involve kissing
, something Charity had no skill at either, having never been kissed
.
A miner tried once, and she’d smacked him with her broom
until he ran for the hills
.

             
She glanced to the back of the house where Gabriel cut hay with a
scythe
. He swung the tool, muscles rippling. She definitely wanted him to try kissing her again
, and t
he next time she’d let him.

14

             
Charity lay in bed and listened to the wind howl. Heavens, it sounded as if it would rip the door off its hinges. She
pulled the quilt higher and turned her head
to check
on
Meg who slept despite the noise. Charity
shivered
.
The air felt mighty cold for an August morning.

The last thing she wanted to do was
get up and
cook
breakfast.
But, being a married woman and a mother,
she couldn’t consider
her time her own. She tossed aside the blankets and hurriedly dressed, donning a tattered sweater over her green work dress.
After hurriedly twisting her hair into a
bun
,
she was ready to begin her day.

             
“Good morning,” she told Gabriel
,
who started a fire in the fireplace. “It’s cold.”

             
“Unusual weather for August, but not entirely unheard of.” He straightened and reached for his coat. “Cattle are out again. I’ll be gone most of the day.” He speared her with a glance. “This time, keep the children close to home. It might snow.”

             
“Snow?” She sped to the window. Heavy slate-colored clouds covered the sky. The aspen trees danced as if to fast fiddler music. “But we haven’t gone to town for our winter supplies.” How would they make it through the winter? Not to mention she was nowhere near ready to be confined to the cabin with Gabriel for months.

             
“If it does snow, it won’t last. We’ll have to go
to town
as soon as it melts
.”

             
“Do you want me to pack you a
meal
?” Charity grabbed her shawl from the back of the rocking chair and draped it over her shoulders.
Despite the fire, the outer
edge
s of the
room
carried a definite chill.

             
“I grabbed some jerked venison
and the canteen
. I’ll be fine.” He slapped his hat on his head and wrenched open the door. The wind ripped it from his hand and slammed it back into the wall.

             
He wouldn’t have to worry about Charity and the children venturing out in such fierce weather. They’d occupy themselves
inside
with schooling and the kitten. It might not officially be winter yet, but schooling was a good idea any time
.
“Will Ruby be all right in the barn?”

             
“
Ruby and Sam’s pony will be fine.
” He stepped outside and pulled the door closed.

             
The wind continued to howl, ebbing and increasing in volume until Charity wanted to join in with screams of her own. The children continued to sleep, and she allowed them to rest as long as they wanted. With them out of her hair, she could work on sewing their Christmas clothes from a green velvet cloak she
’d
found in their mother’s trunk.

             
Fetching the item, she carried it to the rocker, and sat, rubbing her hand over the soft fabric. She would love to keep it for herself, never having owned something so fine, but the cloak belonged to their mother. She had no right to keep it. It would make a lovely vest for Sam and a dress for Meg.

             
She had nothing to wear herself for the holiday, nor fabric to make Gabriel a shirt. She thought of the money in
the
pouch
stashed in her own trunk
from her laundering days. There would be more than enough for fabric and Christmas gifts.
She grinned, envisioning the toys she would purchase.
She could replenish the gold when the weather cleared. Especially since she now knew where to pan.

             
While the wind continued to batter their home, and the children snored softly, Charity cut out the needed
piece
s from the fabric and giggled as Patches played with the scraps.
The fire
eventually warmed the inside
of the soddy, and Charity could almost forget about Gabriel out in the storm.
Almost.

             
With each rattle of the door, her heart stopped. With each roar of the wind, her blood chilled.
The clock on the mantle continued to tick tock its way to daylight.

When the children
began to wake
,
Charity
shoved her work back
in
to
the chest and bustled to the stove.
Cooked oats
would warm them
and keep them satisfied for a while
.

             
She mixed the oats with heated milk while the children grumbled about the cold and layered their clothing. Charity shook her head. August, and it was freezing!
She had lived in Virginia City for two years and never experienced this. Of course,
here
they live
d
half a
day’s
ride up the mountain
, and in a valley to boot
.

             
She
spooned
the oatmeal into tin bowls
and sprinkled a little brown sugar on top.
“Breakfast!”

             
“It’s snowing!” Meg passed the table and sprinted to the window.
She threw open the shutters.
“Look, Ma.
It’s Christmas!
”

             
“Not yet, it isn’t.”
Charity joined her. The white flakes failed to bring Charity joy.
Her
worry over Gabriel overshadowed the beauty of the moment. At least the wind had died down. She put an arm around Meg. “Come eat.”

             
Who kept letting Gabriel’s cattle loose? No wonder her husband didn’t take advantage of free range.
She’d wondered why he insisted on keeping his cattle in a fenced valley. If someone kept sabotaging his work, h
e’d be broke in a week.
There’d been no more mention of the wager he’d spoken of on their wedding day, but something drove the man almost to the breaking point in finishing the new house. Sooner or later, Charity intended to sit him down and talk about the situation. The more she got to know her husband, the more difficult it was to believe him to be a gambling man.
Yet,
he wasn’t a liar
.
His actions had spoken for theirself.

###

             
Gabe pulled the collar of his coat higher on his neck and hunched his shoulders against the biting wind.
Every time someone let his cattle out, they seemed to drift to the same valley. If not for that, he’d be at his wits end.
As it was, he knew exactly where to begin
search
ing
in the blowing snow. Already, an inch
of white powder
obscured any tracks.

             
Although he had no proof Amos was behind the happenings on his homestead, Gabe intended to visit the sheriff when they made their trip to town.
He still had the tobacco tin hidden in the barn.

Having vied with Gabe for Maggie’s hand didn’t give the man the right to sabotage their agreement.
It needed to be a fair fight.
Gabe would die befor
e he willingly let
the land go to Amos. He’d make the improvements agreed on
before the deadline
.
If not, where would he and Maggie’s young’uns go?

             
The thought had occurred to him that Amos might even try taki
ng the children, considering he was
a distant cousin of Maggie’s, but so far, other than wanting the land, the man hadn’t said anything. Still, to be on the safe side, Gabe would do everything in his power to meet the other man’s terms
drawn up in that ridiculous contract between Amos and Maggie
.
He refused to lose his land or the children he loved as his own.

             
Snow continued to fall. The stillness surrounded Gabe
,
making him feel as if he were the only person left on the mountain. He shivered. The snow would melt in a day or two
,
and summer would return
, but right now it felt as though he’d never be warm again
.

             
He caught a glimpse of brown among the white and steered Rogue in that direction. Sure enough, his cattle stood, heads hanging, in the same valley he’d found them in the last time. Gabe unfurled his whip and cracked it over their heads to
start
them home.

             
A boom came
from the tree line behind him. A
searing pain shot through his side. Holding on to the horn, he struggled to stay in the saddle. Wetness that had nothing to do with the snow spread across his ribcage.

###

             
Amos lowered his rifle. Desperation spread through him when Gabe kicked his horse into a trot. He’d missed making the shot that would have changed the course of his life. He never thought he would put a man through the sight of his rifle, but tamer actions haven’t worked.
Drastic measures needed to be taken.

             
How had he sunk so low as to contemplate killing a man? What would Maggie say if she were alive? She’d chosen Gabe. Why couldn’t Amos resign himself to that?
If she were here, she would gaze upon him with a sorrowful expression in those dark eyes of hers until he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the dirt.

             
He holstered his gun and turned his horse toward home.
Maybe the snow had frozen his heart into a hard unfeeling mass. Or maybe Gabe’s failure to keep the woman he loved safe had done that two years ago.

             
Lord, what have I become? That I would so desperately want a man dead in order to possess what he had?