CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) (2 page)

             
“Here you go, Gabe.” Mr. Miller slapped
a box of nails on
top of Gabe’s
growing
pile of supplies. “Need help carrying it out?”

             
“Nope. Can make two trips, but I’m obliged.” Gabe hoisted a sack on each shoulder and pushed through the door.
He tossed the flour and sugar into the wagon bed and glanced around for his missing children. He should’ve known they wouldn’t stay put. A flash of yellow caught his eye.

             
His heart sank to his toes at the sight of Meg rolled into a ball beneath a rearing horse.

###

             
A scream rent the air. Charity dropped her packages and whirled to face the street. A little girl
cowered
beneath the waving hooves of a reared horse. “God have mercy.” Charity dashed into the street and hunched over the little girl. “Somebody help us!” She reached up
with one hand
and fumbled for the horse
’
s flapping reins.

             
Cha
rity gave the child a push. “Go
stand
b
y my packages.
Hurry.
” The girl darted out of the street like a bullet. Charity rolled out of the way then leaped to her feet and grabbed the horse’s bridle. “Shhh, beautiful. Shhh.”

             
The horse snorted and tossed back its head. The rope set Charity’s fingers on fire as it burnt its way
along her palm
. She hissed and let go.

             
“Are you loco!” A man shoved her out of the way and hurled himself at the wide-eyed animal
. His hat fell at Charity’s feet
in a puff of dust
.

             
Once Charity picked herself up out of the road, she gathered the crying little girl in her arms.
The
man
,
who towered over her by at least a foot, calmed the horse
,
and retied it to the closest hitching rail.

             
He turned and pierced her with eyes
that appeared
dark
in the
night. “I thank you for putting yourself in danger for the sake of my daughter, but
…
”
H
e bent and picked his hat up out of the d
ir
t
then slapped it against his leg
. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

             
The little girl wrenched free of Charity’s grasp and flung her arms around her father’s hips. Charity brushed the dust from her dress and gathered her packages. “You’re welcome.”

             
He put a hand on her arm, stopping her from leaving. “Please, let me carry those for you. It’s the least I can do.”

             
Peering at him over the stack in her arms, she couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant next to his height and muscular build. My
,
but
God was good to the man when He handed out looks.
Charity’s heart fluttered, and she smiled.

             
“Thank you.” Charity was more than happy to relinquish her burden. As soon as her hands were free, the little girl slipped her
small
one
into
Charity’s
hand
.

             
“I’m Meg. That’s my pa, Gabriel
Williams
. My brother Sam is …” She glanced up at her father.

             
“Where
is
your brother?” Mr.
Williams
said. His brows drew together.

             
“He made me promise
not to tell
.” Meg ducked her head.

             
“Meg, I asked you a question.”

             
Charity squirmed as much as the child next to her under the man’s stern
gaze. Must he be so mean? The child just endured a horrifying experience.

             
“He’s at the saloon. Said he could sweep and make a few coins.” Tears welled in Meg’s eyes.

             
“Please show me to your home, Miss.” A muscle twitched in Mr.
Williams’s
jaw
, alerting Charity to the fact he barely held his temper in check
.

             
“Don’t you want to fetch your son?” Charity frowned.

             
“Nobody in Virginia City will hurt him. Except me. I’ll most likely tan his hide.” His neck flushed crimson.

             
Charity fairly ran
back to her tent
. The sooner Mr.
Williams
delivered her purchases, the sooner he could take his stern attitude somewhere else.

             
They approached the
place
Charity called home
,
and she ran ahead to open the flap. “Just drop them on the table.”

             
Mr. Williams
set them down and held out a hand to Meg. “Come along, Meg. We need to fetch Sam
and the rest of the supplies
. Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, turned, and was gone, making Charity’s home bigger by his leaving.

             
Poor child. Such a furious man.
What would his son have to endure at his hands for disobedience? Chills ran down Charity’s spine
,
and she shook away the picture of
violence
from her mind. It was none of her business, and the lass had looked healthy enough.
Most likely, the lad received a swat on the behind and little else.

She
unwrapped yards of blue calico and another
few yards
of yellow. Doing laundry might be backbreaking work, but it paid well. Finding the time to sew the new dresses would be the hardest part. Keeping the fabric neatly folded, she placed it in a battered trunk with the rest of her precious belongings.

             
She’d hung up the last of her personal wash
, donned her nightclothes,
and sat on a three-legged stool, when a shadow loomed outside her door. Charity froze, her hand holding the brush suspended above her head.

             
“Ma’am? It’s me, Gabriel
Williams
.”

             
Heavens! Charity grabbed the quilt from her cot and wrapped it around her cotton nightgown. “Go away. I do not entertain men in my tent!”

             
“No, ma’am. I … uh, that is … please, could you step outside for a moment?
My children are waiting in the wagon.
”

             
That should be safe enough and not do too much damage to her reputation. She wrapped the quilt tighter and stepped outside.
A quarter moon cast deep shadows between the trees and tents. Charity squinted and peered under Mr.
Williams’s
hat.

             
“Might I ask your name, ma’am?”

             
“It’s Charity O’Connell.”

             
He removed his hat and twisted the brim in his hands. “
Miss O’Connell,
I’ve come to ask you to be my bride
.
”

2

             
His what?! Charity flushed and glanced around him. The children leaned over the seat staring in
her
direction. She transferred her attention
to
the strapping man in front of her. “Why?” After all, they’d
barely
met and from the looks of the supplies in the back of the wagon, the man was headed … somewhere.

             
“Uh, well,
I’m a widower and
the
young’uns need a ma. I’ve got a good ranch started half a day’s ride from here. It’s too difficult with two little ones and all the work I got to do. Place needs a woman, and Meg likes you.”
The words left his mouth in a rush of air.

             
The thrum of locusts filled the air, along with the occasional gun shot and whoop of a drunken miner. Not the most romantic proposal a girl ever received. Charity stepped closer and sniffed. No stench of alcohol or tobacco. She wasn’t positive, but she thought he had all his teeth. His son still looked in one piece
, so maybe the man’s bark was worse than his bite. She could definitely do worse
.
And given the caliber of men in the vicinity, worse was all she was likely to get.

             
She refocused her gaze on him and stepped closer. His lips trembled in an effort to smile.
Charity sensed his nervousness, and her heart softened. Other men approached her with daring or drunkenness, not timidity.

Could she wed a stranger? Even a handsome one? Other men would leave her alone if she got hitched. The notion of having a man provide for her sounded good. No more mounds of laundry and marriage proposals from desperate men hankering for a wife. She gave a curt nod.
“My answer is yes.”

             
“Good.
” His shoulders relaxed.
“
I’ll pick you up in the morning. If you need anything, me and the young ‘uns will be
bunk
ing at the
boarding house
. Preacher is in town
so we can get married right away
.” He clapped his hat back on his head and jogged to the wagon, climbed up, and once again, left Charity alone.

             
She shuffled back inside and sat on the cot. Despite the fact she’d marry in the morning, tears stung her eyes
at the formality of his proposal
.
A girl wanted flowers and sweet words, not two children looking on from a wagon full of supplies
,
a horse snuffling over the prospected groom’s shoulder
, and a night too dark to see the man’s face
properly
.

             
“
Oh
.” Charity plopped back. She was a silly ninny, for sure. The man made her heart flutter. Isn’t that what she told Mrs. Connor she wanted?
But was it also wrong to want someone to love her?

             
Morning arrived with her still sprawled across the bed like a stranded sea
l
. Charity untangled herself from the quilt and struggled to sit up. What would she wear that wouldn’t have her looking like an impoverished immigrant? If only she
’d had time to sew
a new dress. Her yellow calico would have to do. Besides a small singed h
ole near the hem, it was the be
t
ter
of her two dresses
and looked nice with her light red hair
.

             
By the time she dressed and had her hair smoothed back and tied
up with
a ribbon, she heard the rumble of a wagon outside. Charity glanced around her home, noting the few items she’d take with her. The trunk
of treasures
, the quilt on the cot, the cot itself, a few blue tin plates with white speckles, and a shelf of books. That’s it. All she had to her life. No matter. She was embarking on a new journey. With head held high
and nerves strung tight
, she strolled outside.

             
Mr.
Williams
stood beside the wagon, scuffing his boot in the dirt. When he saw her approaching, he whipped off his hat. “Ma’am.”

             
“You might as well call me Charity, don’t you think?” She gave him a shaky smile.

             
“And you can call me Gabriel, or Gabe. I answer to both.” He held out his hand to help her into the seat. “I left the young’uns at the
boarding house
. Thought we could get hitched in private then pick them up on our way out.”
His
gaze
searched her face.

             
Charity swallowed past the boulder in her throat
,
and turned her head
. “Certainly.”
How could she do this? She didn’t know the man. Maybe he was a scoundrel, or a gambler, or a secret drunk. Lord, help her. She twisted her hands in her lap.

             
Gabe clicked to the horses
,
and they moved toward a two-story, clapboard building at the end of the street. “I’ve got the preacher expecting us
,
and the innkeeper and his wife will stand in for our witnesses.”