Chasing Charity (7 page)

Charity clung to Buddy’s steadying arm as the wagon raced up the street, spewing muddy water in its wake. The heavy rainfall had emptied the boardwalk in front of the hotel, making it easy to pull close to the door.

Buddy hauled back on the reins, took one look at the quagmire on his side, and then crawled over Charity to descend, dragging her and her bag off behind him. They ran into the lobby, laughing so hard they had to hold on to each other to stay upright, their sodden clothes leaving puddles on the polished wood floor.

From behind the desk, Sam stared with an open mouth before loudly clearing his throat. “Say, there ... Miss Bloom ... are you all right?”

Charity stopped giggling long enough to look over Buddy’s shoulder at Sam then fell into more laughter at the astonished look on his face.

Before she could regain her composure, Buddy answered for her. “No, Sam, she’s not all right. Can’t you see she’s soaked clean through?” He took her arm and led her to the counter. “The lady’s in dire need of dry clothes. As a matter of fact, so am I.” He held out his hand to Sam, his soaked sleeve dripping rivulets on the counter. “The key to Mr. Allen’s room, if you please.”

Sam recoiled as if Buddy’s hand was a snake. “I’ll do no such thing. How dare you attempt to besmirch this girl’s reputation. Sir, I won’t allow it.”

Buddy’s earnest face relaxed into a slow grin. “Pick up your jaw, Sam. I have no lascivious notions toward our Miss Bloom.” He extended his other palm. “That’s why I also need Mr. Ritter’s key. For myself.”

He gestured at the guest book. “While you’re at it, scratch Lee Allen’s name from your registry and replace it with the lady’s. Mr. Allen has surrendered his reservation to her, effective immediately.”

Sam leaned into the counter. “On whose authority?”

Buddy’s eyes twinkled, but his jaw was set. “Just the man who pays the tab. You see, the current occupants of those two rooms work for me, and I foot the bill for their housing. We’ll find a corner of Mr. Ritter’s room to lay another bedroll. I’ll continue to pay for the other room as long as Miss Bloom needs it.”

Charity whirled to face him. “Oh, Mr. Pierce, I couldn’t.”

He pointed at the register where Sam had drawn a line through Mr. Allen’s name. “The deed is done, ma’am. Your protests won’t change it.”

“B–but I simply won’t t–take his bed from under him and leave the three of you to one room.” Yet even while she objected, she shivered so violently her words came out through chattering teeth.

Buddy smiled. “Rest easy. The three of us have bunked in closer quarters, I assure you.” He nodded at Sam. “Have someone show the lady to her room while I tend to the buckboard.” With that, he gave her a saucy wink, laced his thumbs behind blue suspenders, and strutted to the door.

“Buddy,” Charity called after him. One glance at Sam’s frowning face and she amended. “Mr. Pierce ... I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Buddy tipped his soggy hat then turned and dashed outside.

Daniel Clark huddled in a corner of the hotel lobby among a group of men who had ducked in out of the rain. Feeling a mixture of disbelief and something else, an unsettling, uncomfortable emotion he couldn’t shake, he watched the exchange between Charity and the strange man.

He’d never witnessed this Charity before—her delicate face framed by damp ringlets of coal and her wide eyes flashing, her head thrown back and her soft lips drawn in a smile full of gleaming white teeth. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never laughed so freely in his presence or clung to him weak-kneed with glee. Seeing her that way stirred something inside him that quickened his breath.

And then she was gone. Vanished from the top of the stairs, still laughing and chattering like a schoolgirl. Her absence left him as hollow as a gourd.

The fog in Daniel’s head cleared enough to realize that the men crowded around him were staring, amusement dancing in their eyes. Clearing his throat, he pushed through his mockers, feigning interest in the weather past the front window. “Well, gentlemen, looks like it’s beginning to clear.”

Their snickers and whispers were lost on him as he hurried to the door and slipped out. Casting a glance at the offending stranger who had run into the hotel alongside Charity, he lowered the brim of his hat to block the persistent light sprinkle and hurried down the boardwalk toward home.

Charity released the bottom hook of her skirt and let the drenched fabric fall in a soggy heap at her feet. She stepped free and ran to the corner where she had tossed the wet satchel. Wrinkling her nose at the musty smell the rain had coaxed from the heavy canvas, she slid the bag over the floor then lifted it to the dressing table. Rummaging inside, she pulled out dry undergarments and her last clean dress. Shivers shook her from the draft blowing in around the window frame and under the door, and her teeth chattered until she could hear them.

There were clean towels and soap beside the basin of hot water Sam had sent upstairs. She freshened up and dressed as fast as she could. The water warmed her some, but her teeth still rattled. Jerking the blanket from the bed, she draped the soft folds over her shoulders.

The boar-bristle brush in her bag came from Mama’s vanity set, an expensive gift she’d received as a girl in Jefferson and brought with her to Humble. Charity ran it through her hair, feeling guilty for having taken so precious an item without permission.

With her curls pinned up, the mirror over the basin reflected the image of her old self. So why didn’t she feel like herself?

Charity leaned to study her face, so clean her nose reflected the light coming in under the shade. A fire she couldn’t name lit her eyes from within and colored her burning cheeks. She put a hand to her trembling mouth to quench the smile she saw there and pushed the truth from her mind.

She turned from the mirror to look around, and her heart swelled in gratitude to Buddy. The room was small but cozy. From the blanket that covered her to the crisp sheets, the embroidered pillowcases, and the lace curtains at the window, everything smelled fresh and new.

The gleaming floors were of the same polished wood as the door, windowsill, and corner table that held the basin. Floral paper in shades of blue and green adorned the walls, and a rag rug beside the bed cushioned her feet.

Noise from the street below drew her to the window. A light rain still fell, but clustered strangers milled about the boardwalk again. She shook her head. A far cry from the days when she recognized every face in town. She feared the discovery of oil would cause Humble to become as bustling and sprawling as nearby Houston. Why couldn’t the confounded oil companies pack it in and leave for good? She wished they’d all hop the first train out and go back to where they came from.

All ... except Buddy Pierce.

Charity fell onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Just who was he anyway, this bull of a man who met her at every turn, the handsome stranger who rescued her and knew all of her secrets? Remembering his teasing and spirited laughter, she hugged herself and smiled.

Had she ever seen such eyes? Green as a bitter apple and rimmed in brown, they looked right through her. And the size of him! When Buddy pulled her to his chest, she felt small and safe. His arms wrapped around her stirred a peculiar sensation in her middle, pleasant and unpleasant in equal measure. Warm butterflies tumbled in her stomach now just thinking of him.

She lurched upright. How could she possibly entertain such scandalous musings when only days ago Daniel had stood at her side, Daniel had held her?

Perched on the edge of the bed, staring at her troubled reflection in the frosty windowpane, she admitted that it hadn’t been the same. She’d never once thrilled to Daniel’s touch or come to life in his presence the way she had with Buddy.

How can that be? I almost married Daniel Clark.

Yet she hadn’t once grieved for him the way she had for Emmy. Hadn’t they both betrayed her?

Charity remembered Emmy’s mournful face turned to the light, pining for Daniel while she grieved over shattered trust. She pictured Daniel emerging from the shadows, saw Emmy embracing him in the moonlight.

How could I have ever loved that wicked girl?

Yet her heart was her undoing. Whatever the cost, whatever the fool her devotion made her, she loved Emily Dane more than herself. The faithless girl was the sister she’d never had, and one never stopped loving a sister.

“Oh drat!” In her angst, Charity had twisted her dress until the thin fabric ripped. Fingering the ragged edges, she wondered if she could fix it. She had only one other outfit not too worn or frayed to wear. Juggling between three dresses made her weary.

Washing them every week became a challenge. Scrubbing wore down the nap more each time. Every washday there were buttons to replace and tears to mend. If only Mama could afford more material. They had tucked away money for that purpose, but the infernal wedding gown had sapped every penny and then some. She toyed with converting the gown into something suitable, but the idea wasn’t practical. The fabric proved too fine for everyday use.

Amy Jane Pike’s offer to buy the dress struck Charity’s mind like a thunderclap. She could afford material for three, maybe four dresses with that kind of money.

As fast as she remembered Amy Jane, she realized something else. She was on her own now. In order to survive, she would need every penny that fell into her hands for necessities. Nothing more. The thought filled her with regret ... and fear.

“Young Mr. Pierce said you and Bertha may come by some money.”
Mother Dane’s words came to her unbidden.

If oil truly lay under their land, buying clothes would never be a problem again. She could buy a trunk full. And Mama would never need to scrub another floor. She could replace her straggly teeth with a store-bought pair and afford fancy combs like Mother Dane’s for her hair. Charity imagined her mama gussied up like Mother Dane, and the picture made her laugh out loud.

Having money could do all those things and more, but she pushed the temptation from her mind. Such thoughts opposed how she felt about the oil boom in her town, not to mention her convictions about the evils of too much wealth.

A moan from deep within Charity’s stomach reminded her she hadn’t had breakfast, though the hour was well past noon. Her immediate fortune lay in selling her wedding gown. She would go see Amy Jane and then find some food ... as soon as she warmed up a bit.

She lay back and snuggled deeper into the feather mattress. Drawing the soft blue blanket against her face, she breathed in the fresh, new smell. Clouds darkened the sky outside the window, casting the small room into shadows, while overhead the light patter of rain on the roof pounded out a muted lullaby.

Two minutes of high wind and scattered hail and the tempest was spent. Thunder and lightning in a pitch-black sky had been the worst of it. One of those storms that make empty threats.

By the time Buddy drew near the stable, he had made up his mind. A light drizzle still fell, but what of it? He was already wet, and Charity’s mama would be worried sick if he didn’t set her mind at ease.

The horse had the smell of the stall in his nostrils and showed reluctance when Buddy made him turn.

“Giddap, you lazy beast. You ain’t worth your weight in sour oats. Cut dirt, or I’ll trade you for a gasoline engine.”

The horse laid back his ears but plodded past the livery door. In no hurry to part with his feed bag, he shivered with irritation while Buddy shivered from the cold. A damp chill had penetrated his bones, and he ached all over. Scraping his knuckles and picking up a splinter on the jagged wood, he groped beneath the seat and found a spare saddle blanket. The stale covering would cause him to smell like the stockyard but might save him from the grippe.

The trail to the Danes’ house felt farther than it actually was, even after the horse accepted his plight and picked up the pace. With tremendous relief, Buddy finally pulled up to the house and climbed down. The rain had stopped completely. He shrugged off the blanket and headed up the walk.

The door opened before he reached it, and Charity’s mama blew out of it raving. “Where’s my girl? Was it you hauled her away from here?”

He held up his hands. “Your daughter’s fine, Mrs. Bloom.” The feral gleam in her eyes brought to mind the liveryman’s estimation. She looked like Crazy Bertha.

“I said where is she? Why’d you take her, and what’ve you done to her?”

Flustered, Buddy glanced at Mrs. Dane, who had come to stand behind her friend. The big woman took one look at his face and came to his aid.

“Bert, let the boy get a word in. It appears he has something to say. Let’s hear him.”

“Talk fast, stranger. Magda, fetch me your shotgun for if’n I don’t like what he has to say.”

The cold left Buddy, driven away by fear of the tiny, wild-eyed woman. “Ma’am, on my honor, Charity’s safe. I got her in out of the rain, and I’m sure she’s warm and dry by now. Don’t worry, I left her in good hands.”

“Where at?”

“In town. I put her up at the Lone Star Hotel.”

A shrill scream exploded from Mrs. Bloom’s tight lips, and she charged him, head down, like a bull. He caught hold of her forehead before she could ram him and held her off. She swatted at him with both hands, connecting only with the air.

“Bertha!” Mrs. Dane caught her around the waist and hauled her back. “Let the boy explain.”

Bertha thrashed against her friend’s grip. “You heard him. He’s done took her to the hotel and tarnished her.”

Buddy rocked back on his heels. He’d never heard such talk from a lady before, and her words stunned him. Then he got mad. Being accused of the same thing twice in one day was quite enough.

“No, ma’am, I did no such thing.” He had to shout over her screams. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt your daughter. Last I saw, she was standing in the hotel lobby where I left her, soaking wet and exhausted—a condition she came to be in through no fault of mine.”

Mrs. Bloom ceased her struggling and stared up at him, no longer Crazy Bertha, just a guilt-ridden, heartbroken mother. She dropped her gaze before his accusation. “Why didn’t you bring her here, then?”

“She refused to come back. No disrespect intended, ma’am, but you have a stubborn daughter.”

From behind Bertha Bloom, arms still locked around her waist, Mrs. Dane nodded. “An inherited trait.”

His fiery indignation cooled, Buddy pushed back his hat and stepped closer. “I only did what I thought best for Charity.”

Mrs. Dane chimed in again. “He got her off the streets, Bert. You should be grateful for that, anyway.”

Mrs. Bloom pursed her lips in thought, pressing her finger against them. The conclusion she came to smoothed her furrowed brow. She nodded then looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Dane. “Turn me loose, Magda. I got my right mind now.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Now let me go.”

Mrs. Dane cautiously complied but held her arms at the ready, just in case.

Mrs. Bloom looked up at Buddy. “You swear on all things holy that you ain’t hurt my daughter?”

“I don’t hold with swearing on holy things, ma’am, but you have my word as a Christian gentleman. I’d cut off my arm before I’d hurt her.”

Bertha Bloom folded her arms, stock-still except for her tongue, which slowly traced circles in her cheek. She tilted her head. “You mean that, don’t you, son?”

“Ma’am, I sure do.”

“Will you help me bring her home?”

He chewed over his next words then decided to take the risk. “I don’t mean to interfere in your business, Mrs. Bloom, but don’t you think you’re asking a lot of Charity? To stay here, I mean?”

She weighed and measured him with a glance. “You know a few things about us, don’t you, boy?”

“I know enough. I believe your daughter feels she doesn’t have a home. Provide her one, and she’ll come.”

She jutted her chin. “Fine—then help me.”

Buddy cocked his head and frowned. “Me, ma’am?”

“Who else? You’re the only one that can.”

“How so?”

She looked into the distance and drew a long, ragged breath. “I never trusted no oilman before. I’ve hated and shunned the lot of you. But something about you rang true from the beginning.”

She fixed him with a stern gaze. “You’re the one who talked me into leasing my house and half my property to pay for this well. Now get yourself over to my place and find oil. Else clear off so I can take my daughter home.” Mrs. Bloom’s direct stare was a challenge.

Buddy answered it with a nod. “There’s oil beneath your land, all right. A lot of it. I’d stake my reputation as an oilman on that.”

“Then go coax it out of the ground so I can buy my daughter a place to live. I’ll give you two months to look. If you don’t find anything by then, you clear out and I reclaim my property.”

Despite the fire of his enthusiasm, the cold had begun to creep back into Buddy’s limbs. He couldn’t control the shivers that took him. “I’ll g–get on over there f–first thing.”

Mrs. Dane latched onto his sleeve. “Not so fast, young man.” She held him at arm’s length and looked him over. “Soaking wet and chilled to the bone. You won’t be able to do anything if you catch your death.”

Her grip tightened and she started for the house. He had no choice but to follow. “You need to get into some dry clothes. My husband’s about your size, only shorter. ’Course, he’s fleshy around the middle, not muscled up like you. I guess some of his things will have to do.”

She paused and wrinkled her nose at him. “If you don’t mind my saying, you need a good washing. You smell worse than a buffalo herd.”

In one last desperate attempt, Buddy pulled free of her grasp. “Yes, ma’am. I reckon that’s true, so I’d best get on back to town.”

Mrs. Dane linked arms with him, but not in the delicate, genteel manner of a lady. In fact, she nearly wrestled him to the ground. “Don’t make me take you by the ear, young man. Dry clothes and a warm tub is what you need, and I’ll be taking no sass on the subject.”

She dragged him past the front door and into the parlor. “You might as well save yourself the twenty-five cents. That’s what a soak in hot water costs in town, you know, plus fifteen cents for a shave.” She winked over at Mrs. Bloom. “I’m offering fifty cents worth of scrubbing, two dollars worth of duds, and a plate of vittles if you’re hungry ... and it won’t cost you a plug nickel.” She chuckled. “And, Mr. Pierce, ‘free’ is a bargain you can’t afford to pass up.”

Satisfied with the angle of her hat in the vanity mirror, Charity pulled on clean gloves and stepped into the hall. Two rooms down, a man stooped next to the keyhole struggling to fit his key into the lock. After a closer look, she realized it was Buddy, though something about him seemed different. She closed her door hard to get his attention.

He leaped and whirled as if she’d shot him, then spun without a word and went at the lock with a vengeance.

Planting her hands on her hips, she feigned anger. “So there you are. First you help a lady and then you run out on her.”

Buddy’s frantic fingers stilled. He straightened slowly and turned, one chestnut brow arched to the sky. “You know, a man can run into a heap of trouble in this town for that very thing.”

Stunned by his angry face, Charity clasped her hands at her chest. “What very thing?”

He abandoned the stubborn key and charged like a bantam hen with chicks. “Trying to help a lady, that’s what. Do you have any idea the humiliation I’ve suffered?”

For the first time she noticed his manner of dress. He wore a white shirt, suitable for Sunday service but made for smaller shoulders and a wider waist. Gathered folds allowed the sleeves to fit his big arms, but they ended far shy of his wrists. A woman’s sash of robin’s egg blue held up black trousers six inches too short and miles too big around the middle.

She stared, trying to take it all in. “Oh, Buddy! What in the world?”

“See what I mean?” He held his arms out to his sides. “This is my reward for the good deed of the day.”

Charity ached to laugh, but the look on his face warned her not to. She pointed at his waist. “Is that...? Why, Mother Dane has a sash exactly like that.”

“Not anymore, she doesn’t.”

“Oh no!”

His gaze jerked to her handbag and his scowl quenched her grin. “Where do you think you’re going? I’ve just wrestled a bobcat over putting you up in that room, and now you’re leaving?”

The breath caught in her throat. “Mama.”

“As bad as she was, your mama wasn’t the worst of it. I’d sooner face Custer’s Indians than deal with that Dane woman again. She had me shucked and in a tub before I could say Jack Sprat. Then she trussed me in this getup and left me no choice but to ride into town looking as queer as a pig in a parlor.”

Charity jerked a hand to her mouth, glad he couldn’t see behind it, and tried to look appalled. “How scandalous! They’re a couple of ruffians, those two. Oh, Buddy, I should’ve warned you. Would have, too, if you’d bothered to tell me where you were going.”

An elderly couple appeared at the head of the stairs, saw Buddy, and openly stared. Charity guessed they’d caught sight of him downstairs and were still in a stir. As they passed by, the grinning old man pointed at Buddy’s bare ankles and whispered something about floodwater. In front of their door, they looked back with amused eyes, collapsed into giggles, and scrambled inside.

Buddy slouched and hung his head. “I’ll have to fight every man in Humble before I live this down.”

“Why on earth did you go to the Danes’?”

“Why do you think? You ran off without a thought for anyone. In a storm yet. For all they knew, a twister had you in a Louisiana swamp by now.”

She stared into his eyes and knew his claim to be true. Ashamed, she dropped her gaze and leaned on the wall. “If not for you, it might’ve.”

Buddy drew a deep breath then released it along with his air of indignation. He leaned against the wall beside her—too close—and lifted her chin with his finger. “Hardly accurate, since there was no twister. And stop changing the subject. Where are you off to?”

“I have business outside town.”

He shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’ll keep until tomorrow when I can go with you.”

She raised her brows. “I’m grateful for the offer, but I’ve conducted business on my own for some time now. I think I can manage.”

“And I gave my word to your mama that I’d watch out for you. I don’t need you getting into mischief that I’ll have to answer for later. Besides, you won’t make it back before nightfall. I get the feeling Humble isn’t the same safe town it was before.”

Buddy was right. The streets grew wilder every day. She could count on one hand the times she’d been in town after dark, even before the boom. She stood upright and faced him. “Fine, you win. But why can’t we go right now?”

“I’m exhausted and hungry, that’s why. As soon as I change out of this silly garb, I’m finding myself something to eat and going to bed.”

Her heart sank. At the mention of food, the rumble in her stomach picked up something fierce, but she wouldn’t be eating until she sold her dress. Planting her feet, she got ready to take him head-on, though she felt dwarfed by his looming size. “I’m sorry, but I must go now. If you can’t go with me, I’ll be forced to go by myself.”

“Why? What could be so all-fired important?”

She wilted a bit. “I can’t say. It’s personal.”

“You have to give me more than that if you expect me to jump to your bidding.”

Reluctance to answer his question knocked the air right out of her bluff. She gave a careless toss of her head. “Very well, then. Will you take me first thing tomorrow?”

“I have business of my own in the morning.”

Her hungry stomach lurched. “I see.”

“I should be finished sometime after lunch. We’ll go then.”

She burned with curiosity but wouldn’t ask. She didn’t hide it well, though, and he volunteered the information.

“I happen to be headed out to your place.”

Her head jerked up. “Whatever for?”

“I promised your mama I’d get things moving along out there. First thing tomorrow I’ll be riding out to see if I can’t speed up those drills.” He ambled over to the door and set to work struggling with the lock again. “Blast it all. What’s wrong with this infernal thing?”

“Buddy?”

He turned.

“Take me with you.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” She pouted, irked that he returned to the lock, dismissing her.

“It’s no place for you. The yard is crawling with roughnecks and buried under equipment. Besides, I’m not taking the rig.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“Too muddy to walk. I’m going by horseback.”

“I can ride.”

He exhaled and shifted his weight to the other foot. “Why do you want to go out there anyway?”

Was he irritated at the lock or with her? “Just do. I’m curious.”