Chasing Charity (6 page)

His mouth dropped open. He closed it fast and swallowed. “I’m sorry, you can’t do that.”

“Oh, but I can. I declare, Mr. Pierce, you’re forgetting yourself.”

Buddy hurried around the wagon, swung up beside her, and studied her angry face. “Didn’t your mama tell you?”

From the look of her, it was clear she’d heard those words before. She leaned toward him, her speech slow and deliberate. “Tell me what?”

“She leased the house. To the oil company as living quarters for the roughnecks.”

Thunder boomed overhead and lightning marbled the darkened sky. A quirky wind bore down on them, pushing back Charity’s hat and raising tendrils of black hair to the heavens. Against the angry backdrop, she reminded Buddy of a snake-tressed Medusa.

“What did you say?” Her eyes narrowed, heightening the illusion. “Just when did she do that?”

“We worked out the deal last night, while you were ... um ... resting. That’s why I showed up this morning. I knew you’d need a hand with your things.”

Charity’s gloved fingers clenched and unclenched in her lap, and her chest heaved. “That infuriating old woman. That’s why she let me go so easy.” She whirled on Buddy, balled fists going to her waist. “She can’t do this. It’s my house, too. If she can lease it without telling me, then I can unlease it. You tell that oil company the house is no longer available.” She drew herself tall, obviously pleased with her stand. “That’s right—the deal’s off. Now take me home this instant.”

Buddy shoved his hat back with his knuckles and scratched his head with his thumb. “That won’t exactly be possible, ma’am.”

“And why not?”

“It’s too late. When I left your house this morning, twenty men were eating breakfast at the table.”

Thunder sounded again, closer this time. Charity leaned toward him once more, staring hard, as if that would help his words sink in. Her big green eyes, so near he could see tiny flecks in them, flooded with tears that spilled over and down her cheeks. When she collapsed against him sobbing, Buddy couldn’t decide whether to comfort her or hide her from prying eyes. He chose the latter.

Righting her hat, he pulled it low to hide her face then clucked at the horse to pull away from the boardwalk. He scrambled for the reins, fighting hard to concentrate on his driving instead of the weeping girl clinging to his side.

Buddy steered the horse down a side street that ran alongside the railroad tracks and parked the rig. Setting the brake, he pulled Charity closer and patted her shoulder while she cried. He searched his mind for comforting words but came up painfully short. “There now. It can’t be all that bad.”

“Yes, it is!” she wailed. “How can you say that? I’ll be sleeping in the streets tonight.”

He tried not to focus on how small she felt against him, how soft. “I’m right sure that won’t happen.”

“It has happened. I have nowhere else to go. I can’t stay at Mother Dane’s. I won’t.” Her wail became a sob, and she hid her face in her hands. “Don’t ask me to explain. You wouldn’t understand.”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, I don’t know so much about that. I might understand a lot better than you think.”

Charity grew still against him. “What are you implying, sir?” When he didn’t answer, she leaned to stare up at him, her face a swollen mess. “You know, don’t you?”

Buddy raised his brows. “Any way I answer that question makes me a cad. If I say yes, I risk embarrassing you. If I say no, I’ve deceived you. Which do you prefer?”

She burrowed into his chest again. “I could just die. Oh, please don’t look at me. I’m so ashamed.”

“There’s no need to be.”

“Yes, there is. I’m a jealous, spiteful shrew.”

Buddy couldn’t help but smile. He was glad she couldn’t see him. “I’m sure you’re neither of those things.”

“I am. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

He patted her on the back. “I can’t imagine you doing anything wrong.”

She tilted her head and peered up at him. “Last night Emmy climbed out a window to be with Daniel. I locked her out of the house ... in her nightdress.”

One look at her guilty expression should’ve been all the warning Buddy needed to keep a straight face, but his callous sense of humor betrayed him. He was going to laugh whatever the cost. He held her and roared until his sides ached.

When he dared to look up, he was shocked to find Charity beaming. Her nose was still red, her eyes bright with tears, but mirth lit her glowing face. By golly, the Okie was right. She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Her big eyes held his for a heartbeat, and he forgot to breathe.

“You are a cad indeed, sir.” Her rebuke might’ve stung if not for her broad smile.

He took off his hat and placed it over his heart but couldn’t stifle a smile of his own. “I guess I owe you another apology.”

“Well, don’t you bother. Though I’m touched by your sincerity.”

“Miss Bloom, I sense you doubt me.”

She waved her hand. “Please, call me Charity. Now that I’ve bared my soul and given you a glimpse of my lower nature, I believe we can dispense with formalities.”

Hat still at his chest, he bowed his head. “I would be honored.”

Huge raindrops began to fall, pelting the top of Buddy’s bare head. Instinctively, he held his hat over Charity.

She leaned from under the brim and peered up at the sky. “Now do you see how awful this is? I can’t even get in out of the rain. There’s no place for me to go.”

“Wait a minute.” He should have thought of it before. Or had she just inspired him? “I think maybe there is.”

“But where?”

The rain came down harder, soaking them to the skin. Buddy handed her his hat and took up the reins, whirling the horse into the street. “Hang on,” he shouted. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

Bertha lay curled at the foot of Magdalena’s green-striped divan, one finger dead center of a checker. Magda sat across from her, propped against the flower-print pillows at her back. Earlier she had raised the sash to ease the cloying stillness. Now the scent of rain wafted in on a lively breeze that pestered the curtains and flapped the shade. Though it put up a brave front, the morning sun had lost its battle with a murky sky. The shadowy corners crept so close they’d soon need to trim a lantern or abandon their game altogether.

Magda squirmed and sighed. “That’s it, Bertha. You’ve made your move. It’s my turn.”

“Hold your horses. I ain’t let go yet.”

Another huffy exhale from across the board brought Bertha’s attention to Magda’s face. “You mind to stop all that blowing? You’re about to scatter these checkers.” She scowled and leaned away some. “Besides, you ate onions this morning, didn’t you? Your breath could peel the paper from these walls.”

Magda lifted her chin. “You know I like a few diced on my scrambled eggs.”

“Humph! A few would mean you could still taste the eggs.”

Reaching around to the side table, Magda picked up her coffee cup. “Just hush and play, would you?”

Bertha looked up as big Nash came through from the kitchen carrying one of Magda’s dining room chairs. On the way he banged it against the doorpost and bumped everything he passed.

Magda grimaced. “Land sakes, Nash. There won’t be nothing left.”

He glanced up and smiled as if he’d just noticed them in the room. “Maybe so, but whatever left gon’ stand up straight. I fixed that wobbly leg you been fussing ’bout so long.” He set the chair down and pushed it up to the table.

Bertha saw right away that the back of the chair stood four inches shy of the other five in the set. “Lookie there, Magda,” she hooted. “You called it right. There’s hardly nothing left.”

Magda scooted forward to look. “Nash! What on earth have you done?”

He flashed another big smile and gave the chair a good shake. “See there, Miz Dane? She’s steady.”

Slumping against the sofa, Magda shook her head. “Never mind that fool thing. Have you seen Charity this morning?”

“No, ma’am. I ain’t seen her since last evening. I would’a reckoned she’d be in the parlor with you all.”

Bertha gave him a pointed stare. “Do you see her in here anywhere?”

He gazed about the room. “I don’t see her in here a’tall. Is she s’posed to be?”

Magda winked at Bertha. “I thought you saw everything that happens around this place.” She took another sip of her coffee. “Where’ve you been all this time?”

“Where’ve I been?” He stood taller and squared his shoulders. “Doing what I s’posed be doing, Miz Dane. Caring for old Rebel and tending chores. So unless Miss Charity come out to the barn, I wouldn’t be likely to see her, now, would I?”

“Well, keep an eye out for her, you hear? She wanted a ride into town, but since the buggy never left the yard, I can’t imagine how she went. I don’t guess you hauled her on your shoulders?”

His grin returned. “No, ma’am.”

“Did you turn Rebel out to graze?”

“No, ma’am, he’s still in his stall. It’s coming up a powerful blow out there. That old sky black as pitch. The pasture ain’t safe for old Rebel jus’ now.” With that, he tipped his battered hat and backed out the way he came.

Magda sighed and settled again onto her pillows. “I just can’t figure it. How did Charity leave if Nash didn’t drive her, and where did she go?”

Bertha’s heart lurched, but she kept her peace.

Magda cast an accusing glance. “You reckon she knows about the house?”

“She’s bound to by now.”

“Then where could she be, Bert? And in this storm? She’s been gone an awful long time.”

Bertha let go of the checker. “Hush and play. It’s your turn.”

Outside, what started as a heavy patter on the porch became a ruckus of hard-driving rain. Magda heaved herself up and rushed to close the window. “Honey, I think that’s hail. I sure hope we don’t get us a tornado.”

“Me, too, but I wouldn’t be surprised. A good twister’s long overdue.”

Magda released the tasseled shade and spun around to face her. “Charity’s out in this! Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

Bertha shrugged. “She’ll turn up by suppertime.” Magda’s hard stare from across the room weighed her down, but she kept her attention on the game.

“Sometimes you’re too harsh with that girl.”

She looked up. “I don’t go to be. Life is cruel. I want her fit to handle it.”

Magda bent close to the window and took one more peek at the weather. “There’s a limit to what a person can take.” She turned and held up one finger in a cautionary gesture. “Mark my words—keep it up and she’ll turn on you.”

Bertha struggled to keep her voice even. “She already has.”

“Tommyrot. That child loves you more than life. She’s a good girl, to boot. Count your blessings, Bertie. Suppose you had to contend with my—”

“Emmy!”

Magda froze at Bertha’s cry then followed her nod to the head of the stairs where Emmy reclined against the newel post. “Well, well. So you decided to come out of hiding. How long you been standing there?”

The girl didn’t answer. Hand in front of her face, she studied her tapered nails as though they held the answers to all of life’s questions.

“Emily, I’m talking to you.” Magda walked to the lower landing and stared up. “You may as well come on down. You can’t eavesdrop on folks once they know you’re there.”

With an angry swish of her skirts, Emmy flounced down the stairs. On the bottom step, she turned a surly face to her mama. “I’m hungry. Were you planning to let me perish?”

Magda snorted. “There was no danger of that.”

Sucking in her middle, Emmy looked down and wrapped her hands around her tiny waist. “Whatever do you mean? Why, look at me wasting away. I haven’t eaten a bite for days.”

Her mama raised an eyebrow. “Stolen provisions don’t count? What about the food you’ve pilfered from my kitchen every night?”

“Mama, take that back! I never did.”

“Emily, gnawed drumsticks don’t naturally sprout from hedges, nor do lamb chops spring up in front yards. You’ve littered the place with your leavings. Did you think no one would notice?”

Emmy raised her chin and turned away. “Why blame me? There’s no telling what’s subject to spring up around this house.” She flashed a pointed glance at Bertha. “Or who.”

Not one to be trifled with, Magda advanced on Emmy, her voice a threatening growl. “After the shenanigans you’ve pulled, young lady, it would serve you best to lower that nose and act civil.” She pointed. “Get over there and apologize to Bertha; then march into that kitchen and fetch yourself some food. No one will be serving you today.”

Emmy dashed over and curtsied. “Sorry, Aunt Bert.” Skirts rustling, she scuttled into the kitchen.

Watching her go, Bertha grinned. “Them rosebushes sure tore up that pretty face.”

“Looks like she hit every one. The very idea, skulking about the windows of her own home trying to break in. She scared the dickens out of me. Served her right to meet the business end of a thorn or two.”

Bertha leaned against the chaise and chuckled. “Now who’s being harsh? Still, I bet it’ll be quite a spell before she tries it again.”

Magda grunted and picked up her cup. “It better be.” Thunder shook the house as she settled on the divan to finish their game.

Bertha stole a casual glance at the window, her heart crowding her throat.

Magda moved as if to play her turn, but her hand crossed the checkerboard instead and gripped Bertha’s fingers.

Startled, Bertha looked up into caring brown eyes ... and felt her armor slide. “Oh, Magda! Where could she be?”

Emmy found a fresh loaf in the bread box and cut thick, crusty slices from the end. The corner pantry behind her yielded a jar of muscadine jelly. She scooped fat globs onto buttered bread and spread it clear to the edges. Her mouth watered before she could close the sandwich and get it to her lips. Grateful for something besides fried meat, she took a huge bite and rolled her eyes toward heaven. After pouring a tall glass of milk, she leaned against the counter and stared out the window at the storm, her thoughts turning to Daniel.

Her need for Daniel Clark rivaled her need to breathe. She wondered where he was at that moment. Did he think of her even now, yearn for her as she did for him? No one had ever made her feel the way he did. One glance from him and all was lost—her upbringing, her morals, her family ... even her best friend.

Remembering Charity, the next bite of sandwich stuck in her throat. She gulped her milk to try to coax it down then lay the food aside. Lightning struck and thunder pealed with a crash that rattled the kitchen window. Emmy leaped away from it, and her stomach lurched. She’d heard them say Charity had gone missing, might be out somewhere in the storm.

Well, I won’t think of it! I just won’t!

Emmy turned from the window and picked up the sandwich and milk. She’d finish them later, up in her room. Though she was loath to go back inside her dungeon, anything was better than spending the day with those cackling hens in the parlor.

She paused at the door. To get upstairs, she had to pass them one more time. After that, she’d hole up in her room until nightfall. Under cover of darkness, she’d sneak back down to the kitchen and pillage for more rations. After all, a girl had to keep up her strength.