Chasing Charity Page 16

  “Sure they will. Time takes care of such things.”

  “They won’t even speak to me, and they avoid me on the street.”

  Mama snorted. “Count your blessings.”

  Charity caressed the silky sleeve once more before gently tucking it back in place. “I must say, I’m glad it wound up this way. It’s such a beautiful gown. I just hope I get to wear it before it yellows with age.”

  “Don’t be silly, child. The way things are going with you and Buddy, you’ll wear it, and soon I’ll wager. You two are as cozy as turtles on a warm rock.” A smug look crossed her face. “If I play my cards right with Mr. Allen, maybe I’ll get a chance to wear it first. ’Course I’d have to shorten the hem by six inches at least.” She hooted at her own daring then held up Charity’s shoes. “Sit down and I’ll help you put these on.”

  Charity slipped on her stockings then pulled out the chair in front of the dressing table. Sobered, Mama stooped to help her with the laces. “How long you reckon it’ll take them men to clear off our land?”

  Charity shrugged. “A few hours at most.”

  Mama breathed a contented sigh. “Tonight I’ll actually get to sleep in my own bed. Never thought I’d choose it over all this finery, but I do.”

  Charity bent to squeeze her hand. “Me, too.”

  “Reckon we’ll get the house clean by bedtime?”

  “Not like it was, I don’t expect, but if I have to sleep there tonight, I’m eager to get started. Only...”

  Mama peered up at her and waited.

  Charity extended one leg and feigned an interest in her shoe, trying hard to sound casual. “Does this mean Buddy will leave?”

  Mama shook her head and went back to the laces. “Don’t borrow trouble, honey. There’s plenty of oil business in Humble to keep him right here. Besides, I get the feeling he’s not so eager to leave town just yet. You keep batting them pretty eyes and I expect he’ll be around for a good long while.”

  It was just a tiny bit of hope, but she latched onto it. “You really think so?”

  Mama dropped Charity’s foot on the floor and stood. “I do. Now let’s go scare us up some grub before I perish.”

  They followed the aroma of food to the dining hall, where Sam saw to it they started their journey with a good breakfast. After a hearty platter of bacon, fried eggs, biscuits, and grits, they climbed aboard the hired rig and set out, their hearts as full as their bellies. They barely cleared the hotel before Red bounded up and fell in beside them, tail high, ears alert, as if he counted himself their personal escort.

  “Fool dog,” Mama murmured, casting him a withering look.

  Charity just laughed and shook her head.

  The cool of the morning persisted, though the sun had come up bright, casting long shadows over the trail. The countryside only hinted of spring, but there were patches of early wildflowers and tender new growth on a few bare limbs.

  Charity closed her eyes and thanked God for a beautiful new day. In her estimation, life couldn’t be better. The two things for which she had fervently prayed seemed close enough to reach out and touch.

  Not only were they going home, but her heart stirred with the possibility that Buddy might care for her enough to stay on in Humble. Since the latter part was too important to trust to Mama’s scattered observations, Charity determined to find out for herself. She would see him in another half mile. She decided to be bold and watch him closely. If he truly cared, she’d know. She’d see it in his eyes.

  Charity hoped she looked as good as she felt. She had worn the green dress. It was the prettiest and matched the color of her eyes. After Mama helped to pin up her hair and fasten her bonnet, Charity pulled long strands free, winding them into dark curls around her face. A splash of lavender water at the crook of each arm finished her off.

  “You smell nice, baby. Just like springtime.”

  Startled, Charity glanced up. It was uncanny how Mama picked up her thoughts. “What a nice thing to say. Thank you.”

  “You look right pretty in that new frock, too. I’m glad you wore it.”

  Smoothing the fabric against her lap, Charity smiled. “I do love it. I’m so glad you bought it for me.”

  Mama turned her head to the trail again, but not before Charity saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I wanted to buy you lots of new things.”

  Charity leaned close and hugged her. “Don’t you dare fret. I know you’re disappointed, but what you’re giving me today is worth more than ten new dresses.” She squeezed her tighter. “We’re going home, Mama! That’s all that matters. I’m content without all the rest—honest, I am.”

  Red barked, loud and unexpected beside them, causing them both to jump. Mama shouted an insult at him, a coarse offense she’d picked up from Mother Dane.

  “Mama!”

  “I’m sorry, daughter. He scared me.”

  The dog ducked and cowered in shame, but his sense of obligation overshadowed his disgrace. He trotted alongside them, big head swaying to and fro, alert eyes sweeping the brush-lined trail. Evidently, whatever he had barked at earlier wasn’t important enough to pull him from his self-appointed duty.

  Obviously eager to get home, Mama kept the horse moving at a brisk pace. Determined to keep up, though he drooled and panted profusely, Red kept apace with the horse. Charity figured she might feel sorry for him if he weren’t so pigheaded.

  “Why do you suppose that stubborn old hound persists on following me wherever I go?”

  Mama glanced down at Red and smiled. “Oh, I reckon I know why.”

  Her words, spoken with quiet assurance, surprised Charity. “You do?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No, ma’am. Enlighten me, please. Then maybe I can put a stop to it.”

  “That ain’t likely.” She ducked low and leaned in like a little girl sharing a secret. “He senses your daddy in you.”

  Charity frowned. “Papa?”

  Softness settled over her mama’s face the way it always did when she spoke of him. Like a magic wand, it blurred the faint lines around her eyes and lit a dreamy glow within their depths. “Red worshipped the ground he trod. You have his same spirit, Charity. All the good residing in Thad he left here with you when he passed.” She faltered and pressed a hand to still her quivering lips. “You’re so much like him, daughter. Did you know when you sit with me in a darkened room I feel he’s there instead?”

  Charity’s eyes stung. “I’m really that much like him?”

  “The breath and soul of him. You even love the Almighty the same. Thad worshipped the Lord free and joyful, like King David himself.”

  How could such beautiful words hurt so much? Charity swallowed hard against the tight knot in her throat and nodded. “I can still hear Papa’s voice in my head: ‘Let God do His work, honey. Confess your sins and let ’em go. Don’t cling to your guilt. Enjoy the gift of freedom Jesus gave you. After all, it cost Him all He had.’”

  Mama nodded. “You took them words to heart.”

  The tears flowed then, running down Charity’s face and splashing onto the crisp green fabric of her dress. “I did, Mama. I pinned all my hope on them.”

  They embraced again. Since he barked the last time they hugged, Charity remembered Red. He wasn’t on either side of the wagon, so she turned in her seat to look. He still followed, straggling a good way behind them. His panting had worsened, to boot.

  “Stop the wagon, Mama.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to put Red in the back.”

  “What for?”

  Mama sounded doubtful, but she pulled on the reins nonetheless. Charity jumped to the ground and waited for Red to catch up. When he did, she lowered the tailgate and ordered him inside. Too tired to jump, he only managed to plant his two front paws on the rig. She stooped and wrapped her arms around the dog’s body to give him a boost. Red scrambled inside, squirming with pleasure.

  Mama threw up her hands. “Charity Bloom! Now you’ll smell l
ike that old rascal, and after you promised not to soil that new dress.”

  To show his gratitude, the drooling dog licked Charity from chin to eyebrows before she ever saw it coming.

  “Heavens!” Mama shrieked. “Now you’ll stink of dog breath, too. What on earth were you thinking?”

  Charity closed the tailgate and dusted her hands. “I’m thinking a creature with Red’s brand of devotion deserves to ride.”

  Mama cast a warning glance. “Don’t lose sight of the facts, honey. That ain’t our dog no more.”

  Scratching Red’s wrinkled snout, Charity smiled. “Try telling that to him.” She sauntered to the front of the wagon, the swish of new petticoats adding to her pleasure. Seated beside Mama once more, she nodded toward the horse. “Let’s go. I’m anxious to get this over and done.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Red groaned and fell to his side before stretching the length of the wagon bed and closing his eyes. Mama laughed and nodded. “I stand corrected, dog. I guess that makes three.”

  She shook the reins and clucked at the horse, setting him in motion. Pulling her foot up to rest the sole of her boot on the rail, she looked about her with a big smile. “The good Lord sure gave us a fine day for it, didn’t He?”

  “That He did.”

  “I reckon your sweetheart will be right disappointed in us when we get there.”

  Charity hadn’t considered that possibility. She flashed her mama a worried look. “You think so?”

  Mama nodded. “He sure wanted to find oil on our land. I expect he’d drill clear to China if we didn’t stop him.”

  “You don’t think he’ll be mad at us, do you?”

  Mama opened her mouth to answer, but if she said anything, Charity never heard it. A deafening explosion rocked the area, sending shock waves through the ground so violent they rattled the wagon. The horse reared and got set to bolt, but Mama held the reins, shouting at him to hold steady.

  Over the treetops a column of mud blasted to the sky and then spewed in every direction. There followed a greenish-black surge that rushed into the air for eighty feet before raining down over the surrounding pine. Black ooze fell straight down, pelting them and bombarding the trail in giant globs, spooking the crazed horse even more. He threw himself back on his haunches again, his front legs pawing the air.

  “Get off, Charity!” Mama cried. “I cain’t hold him!”

  Charity’s feet hit the side rail, and she was on the ground, running for the horse’s head. She clutched his harness, holding on for all she was worth. “Get down, Mama! Jump!”

  Mama dropped the reins and shot to her feet. One leap and she was clear ... and just in time. A wet wad of mud landed on the horse’s back, and no power on earth could have held him. With glazed eyes and foaming mouth, he bucked just as Charity fell back and turned him loose. Then he burned up the trail, blindly running in the direction of the very thing he feared. As the wagon thundered by, Red, stiff-legged with fright, stood staring at them from behind the tailgate.

  Mama lay on the ground where she’d landed then rolled. Propped on both elbows, she stared at the roaring apparition overhead.

  Charity rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

  She lay slack-jawed with dread. “What’s happening, Charity? What is that thing?”

  Before Charity could answer, a lone horseman cut around the runaway rig, elbows high and flailing as he urged his mount. He didn’t bother to stop the wagon but headed straight for them, riding hard.

  Her mama still gazed at the sky. “Is it Armageddon, daughter?”

  Charity pointed at the rider. “I don’t know, but look.”

  Mama gaped as the man bore down on them whooping and hollering, covered head to toe in muck. He reined in his horse so fast the animal spun to the side, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  Mama looked him over then turned to Charity. “Is that a man?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Who is it, then?”

  Charity leaned down and pulled her to her feet. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s Buddy.”

  The dark figure leapt to the ground and came at them, laughing so hard he ran in a crooked line. “We did it!” He grabbed Mama in a bear hug and whirled her off her feet. “We got us a gusher!”

  Charity gaped at the mess he’d made of her mama’s clothes and backed away. He set Mama on the ground and smeared a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “No more cooking and scrubbing floors, little Bertha. You can hire your own help now.”

  Catching his mood, Mama started to laugh. She turned and pointed at the sky. “So that’s what that thing is? Oil?”

  “Oil, Mrs. Bloom, and plenty of it. Enough so you’ll rest easy all your days. Charity, too, and her children’s children.”

  At the mention of her name, he came at Charity, ready to grab her, too, but she screamed and darted away.

  “Buddy Pierce, don’t you dare touch me!”

  He halted in his tracks, his arms still reaching for her. “And why not?”

  She pointed. “Look at what you’ve done to Mama. She’s covered in that stuff.”

  “Covered in gold, sugar. Come and get you some.” He leered jokingly and came at her again.

  She screeched and lit out for the trees, finding a big one to put between them.

  He chased her around it laughing like a madman while Mama hooted from the trail.

  “You stop right now—I mean it. This is my new dress, and I promised Mama I’d stay clean.”

  He paused long enough to nod at her arm, his grin crazy-white against the sludge on his face. “I hate to be the one to tell you, Miss Bloom, but it’s too late for that now.”

  Charity followed his gaze to the greasy spatter on her sleeve, made worse every second by the shower of oil falling around them. “Oh no! Just look at that. It’s ruined.”

  No longer smiling, Buddy stared at her around the tree trunk. She clutched the cool, rough bark and stared back.

  “You still don’t get it, do you, sweetheart? You’re rich, Charity. You can buy a new dress every day of the week if you want. The whole shop, if you’ve a mind to.”

  And there it was. The thing in his eyes she had set out to find. Love offered up from the deep green depths, there for the whole world to see. Her knees grew weak. She had no choice but to allow Buddy to catch her before she hit the ground. With both arms clutching his neck, she watched over his shoulder with wide eyes as the roaring black spout rocked the sky.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Which one are you looking at now?”

  Charity sat at the dressing table, pinning her hair and watching her mama through the big looking glass. Mama sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, bent low over the catalog in her lap. At the question, her head came up, one finger held steady on the page to mark her place. Her eyes met Charity’s in the mirror.

  “It’s the Henke-Pillot.”

  Charity pointed to the toppling stack wedged against her side. “And those?”

  Mama picked up the topmost book. “This here’s the Sears Roebuck.” She pointed down at the pile. “That one’s John Deere. The rest are old Harper’s Weeklies. I’m studying on the adverts.”

  “John Deere? I thought you were set on raising cattle, not crops.”

  Her attention divided between her daughter and the catalog, she turned another page. “Ain’t looking for me. Widow Sheffield’s plow is held together by prayer and a wad of spit. I reckoned I might fetch her a new one when our money comes in.”

  Charity smiled at Mama’s reflection. “I might’ve guessed. You haven’t a greedy bone in your body.”

  Mama shook her head. “It ain’t that. If God intends to bless me when I don’t deserve it, how can I do less than bless others? I’ve always said money in the right hands does more good than harm. Now I aim to prove it.”

  Instead of returning to her browsing, Mama watched while Charity fussed with her hair, peering so intently that Charity started to squirm. She put do
wn the brush and squinted back at the brooding image. “What now? You’re staring.”

  Mama frowned. “You’re mighty flushed, sugar. You ain’t taking sick, are you?” Tossing the catalog aside, she wiggled to the edge of the bed and hurried over to press her palm against Charity’s forehead. “Gracious, I reckon you’re a mite warm, too.”

  Cheeks flaming, Charity caught the groping hand and pulled it away from her face. “I’m fine. It’s a warm day, that’s all.”

  Mama slid both arms around Charity’s neck, resting her chin on top of her head. Their gazes locked in the glass. “Don’t you get sick on me, you hear? Not now, when everything’s about to change for the better.”

  Charity patted her hand. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Relieved when her mama crawled to the center of the bed and took up her books again, Charity returned to taming her hair. She dared not confess the little meddler had caught her mooning over Buddy, an activity that warmed her cheeks quite often lately. He’d been gone for two whole days now, and Charity missed him something fierce.

  They’d never made it home that day. Charity had begun making peace with the possibility they never would. Back in the hotel, Mama overflowed with plans to build a new house every bit as grand as Mother Dane’s, with a stove like hers and a balcony attached to each of their bedrooms.

  Buddy’s lesson on the eagle had come to Charity on wings of mercy. She’d spent a lot of time pondering her death grip on the past and decided not to let it steal her future. Papa had been an immovable rock in her young life. When the floodwaters washed him downriver, they’d swept her sense of security along with him. Thanks to Buddy, she understood she’d been clinging to all the wrong things. The only constant in anyone’s life was God. As long as He hovered nearby, she could soar above a few sticks and straws.

  After the gusher blew in, Buddy commandeered every available freighter then hired men eager for work to drive wagons loaded with oil to Port Arthur. He said a refinery there would pay top dollar for every barrel they could haul.

  The morning the makeshift caravan departed, Buddy had leaned down and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth before swinging up on the lead wagon. That quick, stolen kiss consumed her thoughts far more than his parting words—the promise to return with so much money Mama couldn’t spend it in a year.