Chasing Charity (4 page)

The little man shrank under Buddy’s gaze. He lowered his eyes and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Tell you what. Let’s settle up when you come for the horses.”

“Fine by me,” Buddy said. “Get the buggy ready. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

At the hotel, Buddy found Lee and Jerry seated on benches in front of a long table laden with baskets of brown rolls and pitchers of frothy milk. The men waited their turns at huge platters piled high with sliced pot roast followed by steaming bowls of mashed potatoes and assorted vegetables. The smell of the room set off a fierce growl in the pit of Buddy’s stomach.

He sidled up beside Lee on the bench, tucked a napkin into his collar, and nodded at the men. “Shovel it in fast, gentlemen. We need to get the Bloom womenfolk settled before nightfall. There’s more than a few roughs in this town.” He remembered the uncouth demeanor of the liveryman and scowled. “More than a few scoundrels, to boot.”

Lee passed him a bowl of thick creamed corn. “Say, Buddy, what do you figure was stirring young Miss Bloom?”

Buddy’s hand paused on the bowl. “You saw it, too?”

“Saw what?” Jerry asked.

Lee regarded him with one raised brow. “Son, I don’t expect you took much notice of Miss Bloom’s behavior. How could you? You were too distracted by her other attributes.”

Jerry set down his mug with a bang. “High rickety, ain’t she a huckleberry?” The flush on his young face and the wide, milk-ringed grin told Buddy more than his words.

“A huckleberry, is she?” Lee forked a serving of roast and smiled at Jerry. “Let’s see now. Two days ago you used that term while referring to an oil rig. The week before, I believe a newfangled motorcar earned the same accolade. I think Miss Bloom might consider herself lumped with unflattering company. Don’t you agree, Buddy?”

“I do indeed. But what can you expect from an Oklahoman?” Buddy dropped his gaze and shoved a bite of food into his mouth to keep from smiling.

Jerry sat up straighter. “By golly, I’m a Texan and you know it. Born and raised in Wichita Falls.”

Buddy shrugged. “Same difference. You couldn’t slip a hummingbird feather between Wichita Falls and the Oklahoma border. They may as well claim you.”

Jerry drew his mug and plate closer and turned away, offering them one bony shoulder. “There ain’t no call for that kind of talk.”

Lee laughed aloud and pounded him on the back. “Aw, come on, Okie, don’t take on so. We’re just having some fun.”

“Eat up, boys,” Buddy said. “We don’t have time for high jinks. We’re burning daylight.”

Across the table, a thin, balding man leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Did I hear you mention getting the Bloom women settled? Something happen out at their place?”

The three men exchanged uneasy looks. “No, sir,” Buddy said. “Nothing worth talking about.”

Though no one sat near them, the little man looked to his left and then his right. “Does it have something to do with the wedding?” he whispered.

“Wedding?” Buddy and his men asked together.

“The wedding that never was, I should say.” The man’s mouth widened at their blank stares. “You haven’t heard, then?” He seemed thrilled by the fact.

Lee put down his fork. “If there’s something we need to know, get on with it. Whose wedding are you referring to?”

“Why, Miss Bloom’s, of course.”

Troubled green eyes and a furrowed brow stole across Buddy’s mind. “Miss Charity Bloom?”

“Yessir. One and the same. She was all set to marry Daniel Clark, the son of the richest man in town, don’t you know. Almost done it, too. Made it all the way to the altar before things turned sour.” He tried on a sad look that didn’t fit. “Poor little thing, standing up there in a pretty white dress with tears in her eyes...” Fixing them with mournful eyes, he shook his head. “I reckon a crying bride is the most pitiful sight there is.”

Jerry leaned across the table, nose to nose with the man. “What happened?”

He licked his narrow lips, all but smacking them over what would come next. “Miss Bloom’s intended walked right out of the church, practically on the arm of her childhood friend, Miss Emily Dane.” He raised both hands in the air. “Now there’s a lollapalooza. Young Mr. Clark might’ve cut a fat hog when he took up with her. There’s a slim chance that boy will ever tame a girl like Emmy.”

Jerry’s brown eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you saying some featherbrain had Miss Bloom corralled then cut her loose? Who would do a fool thing like that?”

The man shook his head. “It’s a poser, all right.”

Surprised and a little embarrassed for Charity, Buddy felt heat crawl up his cheeks. He stood up and threw some money on the table. “We got no more time for loose talk and speculation about other folks’ business. The lady’s not present to defend herself, so I suggest we hear no more.”

Lee stood with Buddy, hitched up his trousers, and nodded at the man. “You have a good day, sir.”

Jerry still leaned in, about to ask another question, but Buddy hooked a finger around his suspenders and drew him up. “Let’s not keep our friend from his fine meal. Besides, we’d best get moving. We don’t want to keep the ladies waiting.”

For Charity, the ride to Mother Dane’s house felt like a walk to the gallows.

While packing the buggy, Buddy Pierce and his men were helpful but oddly subdued. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Buddy never met her gaze. The other one, the tall, skinny man with eyes that matched his russet hair, stared at her for much of the evening. When told of their destination, Buddy reacted as if Mama had suggested he drive them off a cliff. They had something stuck in their craws, and that was for sure.

Charity put it aside. Her own woes had her so tightly wrapped that she had no time to ponder what might be ailing them.

Now they stood before the Danes’ front door, bags in hand, to beg entry to the enemy camp. Mama had no sense for propriety, that was nothing new, but it had never stung Charity so cruelly before. Behind them, the men mumbled and shuffled their feet, overly preoccupied by something in the distance.

A loud ruckus came from inside, dominated by Mother Dane’s deep, commanding rumble and punctuated by Emmy’s shrill pleas. When the massive oak door began to open, it was all Charity could do not to turn and bolt. As if she read her daughter’s mind, Mama tightened her grip on Charity’s arm.

Mother Dane’s broad smile greeted them. “Why, Bertie, bless my soul, what a pleasant but thoroughly unexpected surprise.”

Her considerable girth, clad in fashionable big sleeves and full skirts, took up most of the doorway and prevented Charity from seeing around her. Forced to cast manners aside, she rose on her toes and peered over Mother Dane’s shoulder.

“We need shelter, Magda,” Mama said.

Mother Dane stepped aside. There would be questions later, but she’d heard all that was necessary for now. Mama needed her.

“Set those bags at the foot of the stairs, gentlemen; then hang your hats in the hall and have a seat in the parlor. I’ll fetch some coffee. You all look like you could use it.”

Mother Dane hadn’t really asked, just issued the order. Like everyone else in Humble, the men complied without hesitation. After a tearful hug with Mama, Mother Dane hurried to the kitchen to keep her end of the bargain.

A quick, furtive check of the room told Charity that Emmy wasn’t present. Whether upstairs or hiding in an adjacent room she couldn’t tell, but sooner or later a confrontation would be unavoidable.

Like Cleopatra awaiting Mark Antony, Mama settled onto a plush, button-tucked divan and held court with a broad smile. The servant waiting to be served. Long graying strands streamed down each side of her face, and Charity wished she’d learn to pin up her hair.

The men sat stiffly across from Mama on the matching couch. Charity sank into a big green chair and willed it to swallow her whole.

“See? I told you, sugar,” Mama said. “I knew it’d be all right. Magda wouldn’t turn us away just because of Emmy and that no-account Daniel Clark.”

All three men shifted their gazes to Mama, waiting to hear what she had to say next. Charity tensed, prepared to save herself from humiliation if it meant swooning at their feet.

“Here we are.” Mother Dane entered the room as she always did, like an actress on cue. She approached them smiling, but a brief, nearly imperceptible frown directed at the top of the stairs told Charity that Emmy had escaped to her room.

“That was quick,” Mama exclaimed.

“Already had it brewed. I’m used to making a big pot for Willem and me. When he’s on the road, it’s too much, but I don’t know how to make it taste good otherwise.” She set the tray on the low table and looked around at her guests. “Now it won’t go to waste.”

After seeing everyone properly served, Mother Dane lowered herself to the divan beside Charity’s sprawling mama. “Now then, what’s this all about, Bert?”

Mama passed Mother Dane her cup then sat forward and rubbed her hands together like a child with a secret. “You won’t believe what’s going on out at our place.” She narrowed her eyes and jabbed her bony finger at Buddy Pierce. “That one. That boy right there has the gift, Magda. He can take one look at the ground and find treasure.”

Now she had Mother Dane’s rapt attention. “Treasure? Oh my, honey. Do go on.”

Mama’s dancing eyes returned to Buddy. “Tell her, son. Tell Magda what you found on my land.”

Buddy leaned forward and smiled. With his hands clasped in front and long arms propped on his knees, he began to talk. He told about when he first caught sight of Mama’s chicken, and how he realized the goo on its feathers must be oil. He explained how he rushed back into town, praying the whole way his crew had arrived with their equipment so they could do their tests.

He lit up as he talked, and Charity wondered at the source of his excitement. Was it the thrill of discovery or the joy of helping someone less fortunate that stoked a fire in his eyes?

Whatever inspired his zeal, she enjoyed watching and listening to him very much. His deep voice and dulcet tones so soothed her, drowsiness set in and she found it hard to sit upright. Snuggling deeper into the plush green upholstery, she laid her head against the overstuffed arm while Buddy’s muted rumble became a nest of bees in her head.

“Charity? Wake up, dear.”

She bolted straight up, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth and searching the room for Buddy and his men.

Mother Dane offered the crook of her arm to pull up on. “They’re gone, honey.”

“Oh my. I fell asleep.”

“You sure did.”

She looked back at the big chair and pictured herself lying there. “Did I do anything ... unladylike while I slept?”

Mother Dane laughed, not out loud, but Charity knew because her bosom shook. “Child, you snored so rowdy-like you ran those nice young men plumb out of the house, and all the while your mouth was wide and drooling like a hound at suppertime. We couldn’t make polite conversation for all the racket, so they left.”

“Mother Dane!”

“Got quite a kick out of it, they did. Especially that good-looking one.”

“Did not!”

The shaking grew violent, and Mother Dane’s hearty laughter filled the room. She pulled Charity close for a hug. “Come on then, sleepyhead. Your bed is made and calling for you.”

“Where’s Mama?”

“Upstairs in my bed. It’s more comfortable. I set up a cot in the room for me in case she needs anything. Bert was plumb tuckered out, so I promised I’d see to you. I put your things at the opposite end of the hall like always.”

Just like Mother Dane. Always tending to Mama.

“Did Emmy...?”

“Never graced us with her presence. She’ll be down soon enough, though, or starve. I certainly won’t be taking up a tray.”

Charity rested her head on Mother Dane’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s all so awful.”

“That it is, sugar, but time has a way with these things.” She held Charity at arm’s length. “Besides, it’s not all bad news. Young Mr. Pierce said you and Bertha may come by some money.”

Charity grimaced, and Mother Dane took her by the chin. “Mercy, what a face.”

“I don’t want those filthy oilmen’s money. Mama said she didn’t either. She said they come in and lease up all the land, getting rich off good-hearted people who don’t know any better.”

“Uh-uh, sugar. Not this time. Mr. Pierce told Bert she could drill out the oil herself and keep the money.”

The words caught Charity off guard. “Mama? Drill oil? That’s crazy talk. She don’t know the first thing about it.”

Mother Dane laughed again. “Sweetie, you’re wide-eyed as a hoot owl. That young man didn’t mean for Bert to do the work herself. He meant she could finance it and keep most of the profit.”

Charity blinked. “Finance it? With what? It would be easier for Mama to do the drilling than to come up with that kind of money.”

“Mr. Pierce is going to help her get it done. He has a plan. Something about leasing some of your land to pay for it.”

All Charity could do was stare.

Mother Dane gathered her close again and patted her back. Then she turned her to face the stairs and urged her toward them. “Come now, child. I’ll walk you up. I know it’s a lot to take in, especially when you’re still half asleep. I promise things will look better by the morning light.”

“I declare, Mother Dane, I don’t see how.”

Alone in the big four-poster, Charity marveled that it seemed as grand as it had when she was a girl. In this very room, she and Emmy had wrestled, giggled, and whispered until the wee hours. Emmy started out in her own bed, but when the household fell silent, she would sneak down the hallway and throw herself, all gangly legs and tousled hair, into bed with Charity. In those days, they had no notions about rich or poor, fidelity or deceit.

She couldn’t remember a time when Emmy wasn’t a part of her life. Their mamas grew up together in East Texas. When Mama married Papa and moved to Humble, her best friend soon followed. Even after Mother Dane married into money, the two were inseparable. It took Mama eight years to conceive her only child. She liked to claim she held on to Charity until Mother Dane could meet Uncle Willem and hang up her old maid hat because the girls were meant to be reared side by side.

So they had been, and they’d loved each other since Emmy first toddled close and touched Charity’s face. How could Charity bear life without her best friend?

She pictured Emmy lying in her bedroom at the end of the hall, and her eyes flooded with tears. She almost wished the door would fly open and Emmy would sail into the room. The desire to reconcile consumed her. The pain caused by what Daniel and Emmy had done paled in comparison to the hollow ache in her heart.

I could forgive her.

The thought struck like a blow. She lay in the darkness and reeled from it.

When the next idea came, it took her breath. She could tiptoe down the hall and climb into bed beside Emmy. They would whisper and giggle tonight and save the serious talk for morning. It would be harder by the light of day, but they’d work it out. They always had.

Before she changed her mind, Charity slipped from the bed and opened the door. The polished brass banister reflected the moonlight shining from the gabled windows, providing a lighted marker along the corridor. Outside Emmy’s room, she paused. Her heart pounded, but she wouldn’t allow herself to go back. Turning the knob, she winced when the hinges creaked then drew a sharp breath when a rush of frigid air hit her face. Emmy’s bedroom was colder than the guest room had been. Much colder. Charity shivered in her thin nightdress.

The outline of Emmy’s body lay still under the quilt, so she hadn’t heard the door. Charity approached the high bed, her mind awhirl with all she planned to say. She smiled in the darkness, imagining her friend’s reaction, though if she couldn’t stop shivering, she’d scare Emmy awake.

A stiff gust of wind lifted the curtains.
For pity’s sake, no wonder. She’ll have us frozen by morning.

Charity backed away and tiptoed to the window to close it. Her hand rested on the sash when something in the garden below caught her eye. The full moon revealed a lone figure dressed in nightclothes and wrapped in a long white shawl. She stared at the fair-haired apparition in disbelief.

Crossing to the bed, she threw back the quilt. Three plump pillows mocked her. She whirled and rushed to the window, prepared to call out, but something about Emmy’s lovely profile stopped her. The upturned, moonlit face held a look of longing so intense it pricked Charity’s heart.

Emmy feels what I feel. Her heart is so broken she can’t sleep.

She considered the trellis. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but climbing the rickety framework in her nightdress seemed foolhardy. Nevertheless, she pulled the garment high and prepared to swing her leg over the windowsill just as another figure emerged from the shadows.

Emmy rushed to meet Daniel. He took her in his arms and pressed her head to his chest, her long nightdress billowing about their legs. Charity tried to turn away but couldn’t. A single tear fell and splashed against the windowsill.

“I hate you, Emily Dane.” She knew she whispered, but the words thundered in her head. “Oh, how I hate you.”

In the moonlight, the couple seemed to merge into one, and the scene burned into Charity’s eyes. Careful to be quiet, she lowered the heavy window and turned the lock. Blinded by tears, she stumbled across the room and slipped into the hall, easing the door closed behind her.