Chasing Charity Page 12

  Charity shook her head. “Then they’ve heard lies. You know I’d never—” The anchor Charity sought dropped with rattling chains and a heavy thud, dragging her words to a halt. She saw it now, clear and bright, as if the sun had just come up.

  “Wait a second.” She pulled herself to her feet and sat on the table in front of Mama’s chair. “I know exactly what Daniel Clark saw. When the wolf attacked me, he was there, along with Sidney Anderson and Jack Mayhew.”

  “Yep, he mentioned them fellers.”

  “They rode up after Daniel shot the wolf. Buddy Pierce had just helped me up off the ground.”

  “Go on. I’m starting to get the picture.”

  “Buddy held me, all right, and I clung to him, too shaken to stand on my own. That’s what they saw. Daniel made it ugly out of spite.”

  Mama leaned against the chair and closed her eyes. “It makes perfect sense. I believe you, daughter.”

  Charity picked up her mama’s hands and squeezed them. “You do? Oh, I’m glad. Does that mean you’re done scolding me?”

  “No, just resting a bit. Give me a second to catch my breath.”

  Laughing, Charity kissed the backs of her hands. “Oh, you! What am I to do with you?”

  Mother Dane swept into the room, carrying a tray piled high with food. “I heard laughter, so I figured it was safe to come in.”

  “It’s safe enough, Magda, but we ain’t talked everything out yet. We still need to have us a powwow about a certain wedding dress. You can stay here and referee.”

  For her part, Charity preferred to eat before any more discussions. The offerings on Mother Dane’s tray looked downright tantalizing, and Mrs. Pike’s blueberry scones had worn off halfway to town. The long walk, not to mention shooing Red every few feet, had worked her up a man-sized appetite. Not that she ever succeeded in chasing off the stubborn mutt. Most likely when she left, she’d find him waiting outside the front door.

  No matter how hard she tried to pull her gaze away, the plate of piled-up sandwiches held her in a trance.

  Gratefully, Mother Dane noticed and intervened. “Now, Bert, surely that skirmish can wait until after we eat a bite.”

  Charity jumped up to clear a place on the table. Her mouth watered at the sight of thick slabs of smoky ham wedged between chunky slices of bread, fresh-baked if her nose knew its business. Not to mention a platter of cold fried chicken, a bowl of potato salad, and a whole buttermilk pie.

  Scrunching in beside Mother Dane on the divan, Charity ate until her eyes glazed over. She tried to make polite conversation but failed because her mouth stayed too full to speak.

  When she reached for a second sandwich, Mama spoke up. “Charity, tell me you’re not shoveling food like a field hand because you’re starved. Buddy Pierce swore he’d look out for you.”

  Charity swallowed her bite and lowered the sandwich. “He has, Mama. Buddy’s bought my every meal with money from his own pocket until today.”

  “What makes this day any different? Looks to me like you needed to eat today, too. Why wouldn’t he feed you?”

  She steeled herself. “I won’t let him do it anymore, that’s why.”

  Mama glared. “And he put up with that?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  Mama lowered her sandwich to her plate. “What do you mean he don’t know?”

  “He’s been buying my meals on his hotel tab, through Sam. I told Sam I won’t eat any more meals Buddy pays for.”

  Mama sat back, considering her words. Then she raised one eyebrow. “You two have a falling out?”

  “Of course not. I want to make my own way, that’s all. I can’t let Mr. Pierce continue to do for me.” While she talked, she worked on getting a huge slice of buttermilk pie onto her plate without spilling a morsel. “To be honest, I don’t know why you allowed it in the first place.”

  Mother Dane cleared her throat and shot a warning glance. Charity softened her tone. “I mean ... we’re beholden to a complete stranger, aren’t we? Mr. Pierce is a very nice man, but he’s not family. Not even an old friend. Yet he’s shelling out a dollar per day for my room and board.” She balled her fist and brought it down on the couch. “A dollar a day, Mama. How will we ever repay that kind of money?”

  Mama stiffened. “I’m good for it. I’ll give him back every penny.”

  “Oh, really? How?”

  She sniffed and raised her chin. “When my well comes in.”

  Charity tried not to roll her eyes. “That well is just speculation, not a sure thing. Suppose it never comes in. Then what?” Before Mama could answer, she forged ahead. “Besides, how you reimburse Mr. Pierce is not the point. We just met him a few days ago, yet you’ve totally entrusted him with my care.” She held up a creamy forkful of pie, poised to take a bite. “If you want to give this town something to talk about, let them get wind of that.”

  Mama lowered her brows and shifted her lips to the side. “I never looked at it that way. ’Course they’re bound to talk anyways, what with a young girl living alone in a hotel when she has kinfolk alive to care for her. It just ain’t done, daughter.”

  “It’ll seem a lot more respectable if I’m paying my own way instead of living off a stranger. Besides, I’m hardly his responsibility.”

  “You’re right about that. You’re mine.” She pushed up from her chair and came to sit beside Charity on the divan, resting the plate of food she’d barely touched on her lap. “Come back and stay with me, sugar. I’ll set things straight before long. Buddy said that oil in the bog holds the promise of a future for us—of a day when I can put you in a big, fine house and take care of you myself. Living here might be hard for a spell, but—”

  Charity slapped her hands over her ears. “Please don’t.”

  Mama gulped, swallowing the rest of her words. “Don’t what?”

  “Spout one of those senseless things you always say.”

  Mama set her plate on the table then gave Charity a long look. “Well, for heaven’s sake, what things?”

  “Things like, ‘It’s never easy to blaze a new trail.’ Or ‘We gotta wrestle it through to the end.’”

  Her mama heaved a sigh and slumped back on the divan.

  Ashamed, Charity took her hands from her ears. “Oh, go on, then. Spout away since you’re busting to.”

  Huffy, Mama leaned to retrieve her plate. “Well, I cain’t now. You done took all my good ’uns.” Eyes narrow and sulky, she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.

  Laughing, Mother Dane slid one arm around Charity’s shoulder and squeezed. “Your mama’s right, though, darlin’. You need to come stay where you belong. I know it’ll be hard to face Emmy, but you’ll have to someday. You girls can’t stay at odds forever. We’re family.”

  Charity hugged Mother Dane. “I appreciate the offer; I really do. Right now I have a place to stay. All I need is this one bit of help so I can make my own way for a while longer.”

  Mother Dane looked puzzled. “What bit of help is that, sugar?”

  Charity twisted to face her mama. “Permission to sell my wedding dress.”

  Mama’s eyes flew as wide as the dish on her knees. “You want to sell the dress I made?”

  Charity talked fast. “Lord knows I don’t want to, but I got a real good price. Mrs. Pike agreed to pay me thirty dollars. Can you believe it? That’s all the money I need to get myself out of this fix and to hold me until things get straight. Don’t you see? It’s the only way.”

  Mama slung her sandwich, missing the table and scattering greasy bread and chunks of ham over the rug. She stood to her feet. “If it’s the only way, then you’re sunk, little miss. You ain’t about to sell that dress.” That said, she swept past them to the landing and stomped upstairs, tackling each step as if it were a bitter enemy.

  Charity started after her. “Mama, wait!”

  Mother Dane grabbed her arm and lowered her to the divan. “Let her go, honey. She ain’t mad. She’s hurt. Bertha’s dangerous whe
n she’s hurt.”

  Charity’s mouth went dry as dirt. Fear tickled her insides like a swarm of scurrying spiders. “I have to talk to her.”

  “If you don’t give her time to cool down, she’ll say things she don’t mean. Once said, they’ll hang between you.”

  “You don’t understand. I need that dress.”

  If a look could bare the soul, Charity’s lay stripped to the bone before Mother Dane’s probing eyes. “I’m afraid to ask, honey. Why so desperate?”

  “Because ... I’ve already sold it.”

  Mother Dane’s jaw fell slack. “Oh, honey, you didn’t.”

  Charity turned out the pocket on her skirt, displaying the bright silver coins. “Mrs. Pike gave partial payment. We shook hands.”

  Mother Dane stared at the money cupped in Charity’s palms. Instead of offering a glimmer of hope, the expression on her face made Charity’s insides hurt. She released the pocket, and the coins slid out of sight with a lighthearted jingle, an outlandish sound in the midst of such gloom. “I guess I should’ve known better, I know how mulish Mama can be. Now what am I to do?”

  Mother Dane pulled her close and gave her a little shake. “Don’t take on so. This will require a bit more time to figure, but we’ll think of something. Go on and finish your lunch. Afterwards, we’ll sort it out together.”

  Charity squinted at her plate. The slice of pie, so appealing a moment ago, caused her stomach to lurch. She passed the food to Mother Dane, stood, and picked up her shawl. “I have to go.”

  “Honey, don’t leave. That’ll just make matters worse. Her Irish temper will cool in a bit.”

  Charity pulled on her gloves with such force the seam of one finger busted. “I don’t have time to wait for that cantankerous old woman to cool. If I’m to fend for myself in this world, then I need to be about it, don’t I? Thank you for lunch, Mother Dane. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find a way out of this mess Mama’s landed me in.”

  She rushed to the door. Red lay curled on the porch sound asleep, his eyes hidden under saggy bags of skin. When Charity moaned at the sight of him, he jerked alert, his tail thumping a rhythm on the smooth stones. She was not so pleased to see him.

  Mother Dane hustled up behind her. “Where are you going? What will you do?”

  Charity stared at her in silence. Where would she go? “I don’t know yet. I need time to think. Good-bye, Mother Dane.”

  There was no way around the big dog panting up at her, as persistent and immovable as the cut of ancient rock on which he lay. So Charity tiptoed over him, stepping wide to clear his bulk. Instead of making her way to the path, she jumped off the side of the porch and made a beeline for the front garden. Shaking all over, and still drained by the squabble with her mama, she stumbled into Mother Dane’s shaded arbor and sat down in front of the fountain. She needed time to ponder, to get her bearings before starting the long trip back to the Pikes’.

  Red had followed, and he promptly laid his nose to snuffling the soft clay around the trees and shrubs. Leaving him to his own devices, she leaned against the cold iron bench to think.

  It would be easier to send Red home than to get that obstinate old woman to change her mind. In fact, if it came to a match between the two, Mama was more dog-stubborn than the dog.

  A sound reached her ears over the whining and snorting of the big hound—a relentless tapping that penetrated the whirlwind in her head and plucked her from the pit of dismal thought. Annoyed, she looked around to find the source.

  The rapping grew louder, followed by the rattle of a windowpane. Red lifted his head and growled deep in his throat. Thinking it had to be Mother Dane, Charity looked at the house, but a quick check of the lower windows proved her wrong.

  Mama perhaps?

  Expecting to see the crabby old grouse, she followed the noise to the upper floor ... and came face-to-face with Emmy, peering down from her bedroom. Charity tried to look away, but the girl’s wide-eyed stare held her fast.

  Red trotted over and nudged her with his nose, demanding attention.

  Her willful, disloyal gaze still fixed on the tortured blue eyes above, Charity’s fingers found and caressed the dog’s soft, bristly muzzle. The irony of the moment struck her. They had changed places, she and Emmy. Now Emmy watched from above while Charity embraced a mongrel in the garden.

  With a start, she realized Emmy still wore her nightdress. Her flaxen curls, always pinned and perfect, fell past her shoulders, dull and matted. The lovely pale face Charity knew so well gazed down without expression, her breath misting frosty puffs on the glass. Without warning, she raised one hand, pressing her palm to the window. Leaning in, her face crumpled with grief.

  Charity spun and bolted from the garden. With Red on her heels, she lifted her skirt and sprinted for the thick woods that lined the property. When she reached the cover of the trees, she dove in as fast as she could, dodging bog holes and saplings until she came to the trailhead. A good way up the path she stopped, completely spent. Bent over at the waist, one hand at her throbbing side, she gasped for air and fought the sobs crowding her throat.

  Red left her side and trotted ahead a few paces to greet someone emerging from a thicket just off the path.

  Startled, Charity jerked upright. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” Daniel said. “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Her hand still pressed to the window, Emmy watched Charity reach the edge of the yard and dart into a sparse crop of seedlings. Plowing through their spindly branches, she fought her way to the mouth of the trail then ducked behind thick brushwood. Emmy caught only glimpses after that, until Charity finally disappeared into the trees.

  Emmy knew what she must do. Even to her fevered mind the act seemed foolish, but there was no time to think it through. She opened the window and crawled over the ledge, deftly gaining a foothold on the rickety trellis. Hanging there, suspended between right and wrong, she wondered if her rose-infested tomb had driven her quite mad.

  Dressed only in her gown in the bold light of day, she scrambled to the ground. When her bare feet touched the cold red clay, her mind went to Nash, the only person on the place besides Mama and Aunt Bert. No matter. She trusted him. Even if Nash saw her streak across the grounds in her nightdress, he’d sooner cut off his arm than snitch on her.

  She gathered the hem of the cotton garment and lit out, feeling Mama’s eyes on her back from every window in the house. She knew exactly at what point the trees would hide her from sight—the same place where they’d swallowed Charity—and she didn’t breathe until she reached that spot.

  ***

  Daniel had followed Charity down the trail then hung back when he saw where she was headed. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be staying long, so rather than face the two clamorous shrews crouched on the back side of Mrs. Dane’s door, he’d hunkered down behind a juniper tree to wait. The sight of Charity through spiny branches told him his hunch had paid off.

  He couldn’t wait to speak to her, to tell her he still loved her. He imagined the look on her face when he said it. Her dark brows would lift in surprise and the corners of her full, red lips would twitch with pleasure. Maybe she’d toss her head and laugh the way she had that day in the hotel.

  Heart thumping, he moved closer. “Did you hear what I said, honey? We need to talk.”

  Her hat in her hands, her long black hair disheveled and freed from its pins, she looked wild and beautiful ... and furious. She lifted her chin and her eyes flashed. “Oh, you’re right about that, Daniel Clark. We need to talk, and that’s for sure.”

  He took another step forward.

  Charity matched it with one step back. “What are you doing out here anyway, skulking behind bushes, waiting to spring out on lone women?”

  Daniel ignored the last part and reckoned the answer to the first should be obvious. He summoned the patience to respond. “Like I already said, I was waiting for you. I followed you all the w
ay from town.”

  “Is that a fact?” She watched him from beneath her dark lashes.

  Daniel’s hands began to sweat. Things weren’t going well. Her look remained guarded, not at all what he’d expected.

  She held her unyielding stance and raked him with glaring eyes. “Maybe you weren’t waiting for me at all. Maybe you were lurking out here until I left Mother Dane’s house so you could slither up and spread more lies.” She glanced around at the bushes and tall grass. “I don’t see Sidney and Jack. Won’t you need your two deceitful witnesses?”

  So that was the burr in her britches. Well, it explained her fury. “Now, honey, don’t be mad. I didn’t go to hurt you none. I was only trying to protect you from that oil company fellow.”

  His heartfelt words brought a curious reaction from Charity. Her eyes flew open, and her body recoiled like he’d struck her. Daniel realized afresh that he’d never understand women.

  Scorn blazed in her eyes. She spoke, her tone low and mean. “Tell me something, Daniel. Why do I need the likes of you to protect me from anything?”

  He rested his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. “I guess you don’t. Looks like I had this figured all wrong. Turns out it might be me who’s needing you.”

  Daniel held his breath, waiting for her reaction. When it seemed he could reach out and touch her silence, he glanced up and found her staring. Some other emotion had replaced the anger, one he didn’t recognize. Whatever its source, it left Charity’s face as blank as a new slate.

  “Why would you say something like that to me?” she finally asked. “After all that’s happened.”

  He edged closer, longing to touch her. Charity’s body tensed, and the hound beside her stood up and growled. Daniel glanced at the dog but held his ground. “I said it because it’s true. I love you, sugar. I know it now. I’d wrestle a bull to win you back.”

  Astonishment replaced her empty expression. Daniel bit off a smile and watched, waiting for it to turn to pleasure. “Please, Charity. Let me come close. I need to hold you. Let me soothe away the pain I’ve caused.”