CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) (5 page)

What a contrast to dusty Virginia City
, and a temptation Charity couldn’t resist
.
She
set the bucket on the bank and waded in
. Icy water
stung her ankles
, and she gasped
.

Charity laughed and
, once her skin acclimated to the temperature,
immersed herself. She stared up through the water at the distorted sun. What splendor!
She rolled over and searched the creek bottom. Shiny gold flecks sparkled, and she almost gulped.
Could that be gold?

Laundry and chores could wait. She’d worked from sunup to sundown for as long as she could remember. A few minutes rest wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Planting her legs on the creek bed, she pushed to the surface
, determined to come back later when she was alone
.

             
“Ma?” Meg stood beside the creek, tiny fists on her hips.
“I thought you drowned.”

             
“The water’s wonderful. Come on in.” Charity hiked her skirts and moved t
oward the bank
until the water brushed the tops of her knees
like liquid silk
chilled from a cool breeze
. Heaven. She shoved aside the temptation to strip down to her shift and have a
longer
swim
, or better yet, spend time panning
for the one thing that would make her life easier
.
There wasn’t time. Not if she planned on doing the list of chores outlined by Meg.

“I love the water.” She cupped her hands and splashed Meg
as the little girl joined her
.

             
The little girl shrieked and retaliated. Soon,
Meg’s clothes were as soaked as Charity’s
. Charity laughed. “I feel more like working now, don’t you?”

             
“Yes!” Meg jumped up and down.
“But the water’s
really
cold.”

             
“
It is a bit
of a
chill, but
I think
maybe
we’ll come back to wash off the day’s sweat when we’re finished with our work. W
hat
do you say?” She patted Meg’s head.

             
Meg nodded and pushed through the water until she reached the bank. Charity grinned
. Despite Meg’s
blue
-
tinged lips
she splashed and shrieked like she was having the time of her life
. Maybe being a mother wasn’t so hard after all. She grabbed the bucket she’d discarded, filled it
,
and began the first trek back to the waiting wash tub.

             
As they trudged past the corral, Gabriel and Sam turned and stared. “What happened?” Gabriel frowned
and leaped the fence.
His long strides carried him to their side
. H
e followed them to the basin
. “Did you fall in? Did something frighten you?”

             
“We played,
Papa
!” Meg clapped her hands. “And we’re going back later
to play again
.”

             
“Played?”

             
“Yes, Mr. Williams. We played.” Charity narrowed her eyes. “Have you heard of it?”

             
Gabriel removed his hat and scratched his head. “Of course I have. There just doesn’t seem to be a lot of time left for such foolishness
once chores are done
.”

             
Charity dumped the water
in the tub
. “I intend to make time.
Sometimes
befor
e
beginning
chores.
”

             
He crossed his arms. “
I suppose that’s all right, as
long as the work
get
s done.”

             
“You suppose?” Charity took a deep breath
and bent to light a fire
in the stack of wood piled for laundry
. She’d keep her temper. After all, they’d
have to
live together for
close to
a year. There was no sense in causing waves. “That’s kind of you. If you’ll excuse me, I have more water to fetch
. T
oday is wash day
,
after all.”

             
“It’s coming on lunch time.”

             
Charity glanced at the sun. “So it is.”

They’d played longer than she’d intended.
She gritted her teeth.
How could she tell him that ham and beans pretty much exhausted her cooking abilit
y
?
That and
scrambled
eggs. She shrugged and headed back to the creek, leaving him standing with Meg. He’d figure out soon enough that the only thing
s
she knew how to do well w
ere
laundry
and making soap
.

             
By the time she’d filled the basin
and shaved slivers of
an astringent
soap into the water
, perspiration ran in rivulets down her back. So much for the relaxing swim. She groaned, remembering Meg’s words about baking bread. However was
sh
e supposed to create time for all those things, especially when
she
had to cook meals three times a day
and hadn’t much of a clue how
?

             
She glanced around for the men in the family. Nowhere in sight, but come the scent of food and they
would
stampede for the house.

             
She missed her mother. They could’ve sat down, and Charity could’ve asked all the questions swarming through her head.
Or better yet, she would’ve learned these valuable skills while growing up.
How to cook flavorful meals, and keep a house clean, sew clothes, raise children,
can vegetables,
and make a husband happy.

Gabriel was a fine looking husband. Better than Charity ever thought she’d find
in the wilds of Montana
. If she could learn how to be a proper wife, maybe he’d ask her to stay at the end of a year.
She sagged against an oak tree
and blinked away tears
.

             
Ma died too young, and Charity’s da paid for everything as long as there were funds
to be made playing cards
. When the money ran out, Charity learned to do laundry
, and ate her meals at the boarding house
.

             
Ah,
she
was a failure at things most women took for granted. She straightened and grasped the wooden pole to swish clothes in the hot water.
W
ell
,
l
ife was like a cup of tea, it
wa
s all in how she made it
. A
nd Charity was determined to make the best of her new life. She’d work hard
,
and
still
find time to play a little each day.

             
“Meg, come stir this pot while I whip together something for lunch.” Charity propped her hands on her hips and popped the kinks from her back.

             
She left the door open to the house in order to shed light on the shelves and surveyed what little was left.
She needed to plant a garden immediately if she hoped to have any vegetables for the winter
. I
f
they
cut another window in the wall, she could grow herbs inside year round
on a plant shelf
.

Today, i
t would be beans and
day old roll
s for lunch. She stuck her head out the door. “Meg, did your father happen to get a garden in by any chance?”

             
“He’s got ground tilled behind the house.”

             
“Seeds?”

             
“In jars behind the canned goods.”

             
“Bless you.” Meg was going to be invaluable, even as young as she was. The girl seemed much older than six. Charity grinned. She’d teach her new daughter how to be a child once she settled into a routine. With all the things filling her day, when would she have time to
pan
for gold?

###

             
Amos melted farther into the safety of the trees and watched life progress on the Williams farm. No sane person could call it a ranch. Not with fifty head of cattle and a sod house. At least Amos didn’t consider it much more than a homesteader’s resting place.

             
What was Mrs. Williams doing inside the soddy? Such a lovely woman to be stuck in such a place. But then again, the Irish weren’t used to much more than a hole in the ground. Still, her fair skin
ned
and bright hair
ed beauty
alone warranted her worthy of more in Amos’s eyes.
Add in the fact that he’d spied through the open door earlier and noticed four beds instead of three. A marriage of convenience. He could give her more.
Gabe didn’t deserve her.

             
He’d laughed as Gabe replaced the fence railing earlier, then moved on to survey the house. Progress on the new place was moving faster than
Amos
liked. He would have to do something to slow things down.

###

             
Gabe
fixed
the fence post and stepped back to survey his work. The repair in the split-rail fence ought to work.
Not many ranchers out here used fences, but then again, not many kept losing their cattle to the valleys farther up the mountain.
“Ready to head back, Sam? Your new ma ought to have something fixed for us to eat by now.” Although she had gotten a late start on the laundry. He hoped he hadn’t married a sluggard. Playing in the creek! What would the woman think of next?

Maggie hadn’t seemed to need such things as relaxation, other than their nightly
winter
Bible readings and Sunday afternoons
left to plan her chores for the following week
. She’d worked from sunup to sundown with nary a complaint.

             
Gabe shook his head and headed for the house. He stopped by the barn. Meg and Charity tugged the metal washtub across the yard. What did they have up their calico sleeves?

             
“Charity?”

             
“Thank the heavens!” Charity released her grip on the handle. “Could you help me drag this to the creek before your lunch burns?”

             
“Why?”

             
“So I can rinse the clothes.” Charity spoke as if he were slow-witted. “There’s no sense in heating up water when the day is beautiful and the creek is running.”

             
“But, that’s not the way—”

             
She stuck up a finger. “I suggest you do not finish that sentence. There is one thing we need to get straight. I am not your
former
wife, nor will I do everything the same way she did.”

             
“But—”

             
The finger remained as rigid as a mountain pine. “Enough,
Mr. Williams. Will you help me or not?”

             
“Of course, I will.” He wasn’t a scoundrel. With a grunt, he hefted the tub and marched to the creek. He dropped it and turned. “Can we eat now?”

             
Charity narrowed her eyes and growled.
“It’s on the stove. Help yourself.”

             
Obviously he’d said something wrong
again
. B
ut for the life of him, Gabe had no idea what.
When the little spitfire’s eyes sparked like emeralds,
and her brogue deepened,
he knew he’d better change tactics, and change them fast.
But she sure was pretty when she was spitting mad.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”

             
“When I’m finished with the laundry. Wouldn’t want to jeopardize the day’s schedule
, would I?
” Charity flounced around and stomped off.

             
Gabe glanced at his
children
. Meg shrugged, and Sam looked as clueless as Gabe felt.
There wasn’t anything left to do but
go
fill
their plates
.