Chasing Charity (22 page)

“You didn’t—”

“Yes, I did. I made you sad. I know you’re grieving over Buddy. I know how much you love him.” She clutched Charity’s hands. “Daughter, you don’t have to go through with this wedding. Your feller will be back soon. He’ll come riding into town looking for you. Don’t let him find you in Daniel’s house.”

Charity’s heart leapt at the words, but she pushed it back down and pulled free. “Hush now. It’s all decided.”

“But I changed my mind. I don’t want you doing this fool thing.” She swatted the air. “I don’t care about the house. We’ll get by without it. Ain’t nothing more important to me than your happiness.”

Charity took the familiar little face in her hands. “You listen to me. I’m going up those stairs to bed. I need my rest because tomorrow is my wedding day. I’m marrying Daniel, just like we planned, and you’re going to be there, happy and smiling, to give us your blessing.”

Mama seemed struck dumb by Charity’s calm, forceful words, a favor for which Charity felt grateful. She had no confidence in her own strength and didn’t know how long she could hold out.

She gave Mama’s tearstained cheek a tender kiss. “Move now. Let me out of this chair so I can go to bed. I suggest you two do the same. The hour is late.”

Mother Dane came around the table and helped lift Mama from the floor.

Charity couldn’t bear to see her mama’s stricken look, so she averted her gaze and brushed another kiss on her forehead as she passed. One foot on the bottom step, she forced a bright smile and turned. “Good night now. Get some rest. I need you fresh tomorrow.”

Mother Dane wrapped Mama in a bear hug from behind, laying her cheek against the top of her head. “Too late for that, child. This old thing ain’t been fresh for many a year.”

Though her heart was shattered, Charity couldn’t help but laugh.

The awful pain returned as she made her way up the stairs. She wanted to get to her room before she broke down and cried, but on impulse she paused near the top landing.

The two of them, still hugging, still staring up at her, hadn’t budged.

“There is one more thing.”

Mama leaned forward. “What’s that, baby?”

“Where’s Papa’s Bible? I thought I’d read a bit before I turn in.”

Mama’s eyes melted into dark pools of sorrow, as her heart swelled up and broke there.

Charity despised her own weakness. She shouldn’t have asked for the Bible. It only served to reveal the depth of her pain.

“It’s in Magda’s room. On the table by the bed. You want me to fetch it for you?”

The anguish in Mama’s voice matched the agony in her eyes. Charity longed to rush down and hug her again but knew it would only make matters worse. Instead, she turned and took the last two steps up the staircase. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get it. Good night, Mama. Good night, Mother Dane.”

“Sleep tight, sugar,” they called in unison.

The worn leather book lay open beside the bed in Mother Dane’s room, just as Mama had said. Charity closed it gently and tucked it under her arm.

In the hallway, she turned to stare at Emmy’s door. A force she couldn’t understand pulled her toward it. Perhaps it was the desire to escape the present, to go back in time to simpler days, when she and Emmy were young, carefree girls. Perhaps her battered heart sought comfort from the person who knew her best, a person whose own heart was wracked with grief. Whatever the reason, Charity found herself standing outside Emmy’s room, her trembling hand clutching the knob.

The pounding in her chest seemed audible as she opened the door. The gaslight in the hall poured a shaft of light across the floor in front of her. Charity held her breath and ducked inside. Shadows etched the room. She could just make out Emmy in the center of the high, four-poster bed, the covers drawn over her face.

In that moment, everything in Charity’s life seemed caught in a ludicrous dream. Tomorrow she would marry a man on whom she’d set her cap for years, yet she’d rather be drawn and quartered. Marrying him would bring heartache to a person she loved with all her heart, a person who lay a mere six feet away, yet she dared not call her name.

It was more than Charity could bear. She clutched the Bible to her chest and fled, taking no care to be quiet. She ran down the hall with her hand pressed against her mouth to suppress a wail, knowing once she gave in to it, she’d bawl like a motherless calf.

Buddy leaned against the bar, tracing ever-widening circles with the base of a tall, sweaty mug. He gripped the handle and took another drink, wondering again why he’d stormed into a place like this only to embarrass himself at the last minute.

Under the scrutiny of every man in the place, he had turned up the glass and taken a long, deliberate swig, as if the sticky-sweet sarsaparilla was his intention all along. He had no taste for strong liquor and wanted no part of it, despite how bad he felt.

Something about the dank, smoke-filled saloon brought Buddy a measure of comfort, even a sense of camaraderie with the men. Perhaps due to the feeling of shared hopelessness or the sight of his own pain reflected back from their hollow eyes.

None of the long faces seemed interested in conversation; Buddy reckoned the other patrons swirled in pits of their own trouble. He felt isolated and anonymous but at the same time accepted into a curious brotherhood of suffering.

A wizened old man strengthened this notion when he stopped to pat Buddy’s back on the way out the door. Buddy had never felt such misery. It seemed fitting to hole up in the most miserable place he’d ever been.

He had walked in on impulse a couple of hours past noon. Driven from his room by hunger, he left the hotel to scout out a bite to eat. Instead, he barged into the saloon. He wasn’t sure how long he’d nursed his wounds in the dimly lit room. Long enough to watch the bright square of light above the swinging doors fade to orange and then darken.

Having never been inside a saloon in his life, Buddy couldn’t believe he’d passed so much time there. He spent much of it comparing Charity to every woman he’d ever known and had been forced to admit her attributes were not his imagination. She was in fact the most wonderful woman he’d ever met, a conclusion that only added to his misery.

The rest of his confinement passed in a blur of strange faces, cigar smoke, the stench of stale liquor and unwashed bodies, and more sarsaparilla than he’d consumed in a lifetime.

“What in blue blazes...?”

The familiar voice pulled Buddy’s attention to the mirror behind the bar. Lit by the gaslight on the wall, in sharp relief against the dark opening, the reflection of a familiar face topped by an unruly shock of hair stared back at him from the door.

Buddy spun around grinning, confused but immensely glad to see Jerry Ritter. “Well, lookie here! You’re a welcome sight, Tumbleweed. When’d you blow in?”

Jerry reluctantly left his place at the door and pushed into the room, leading a curious and unlikely parade. One of the prettiest women Buddy had ever seen followed him in like she belonged there, though she clearly didn’t. On her heels, his posture afraid and defiant at the same time, came big Nash, Magdalena Dane’s oversized handyman.

Buddy’s head reeled at the sight of them strolling in together. He couldn’t have guessed the reason for it if he’d tried.

“What’s he doing in here?” The barkeep glared hard at Nash. “Can’t y’all read?” He pointed at a sign nailed over the door. “That boy can’t come in here. No darkies allowed.”

Stepping in front of Nash with a swish of her skirts, the tiny woman tilted her chin and faced the bartender. “This man is with me, sir. We’ll only be a minute, and I’ll see he does no harm. You have my word. You can do a lady one small favor, can’t you?”

The slightest movement of her head caught the glow from the gaslight, causing pinpoints of fire to ricochet through her hair. She reached a finger to twirl one glittering curl, and the effect was mesmerizing. Every eye in the room held an answering light, and Buddy found himself falling under her spell. He stared at the lovely face, convinced her smile would sweeten day-old coffee.

The allure of plump lips and bottomless dimples weakened the barkeep’s will. It was obvious women like her seldom graced his establishment. Looking like he’d swallowed the pickle barrel, the poor man managed a nod.

By the scowl on Jerry’s face, he might’ve swallowed one himself. “Well, if this ain’t the last place I expected to find you...” His narrowed gaze fixed on Buddy’s glass.

Buddy raised the mug. “Don’t worry, partner. I’m still a teetotaler.”

Jerry leaned to smell the offending drink, his face set in a grimace. When he rose up, his countenance had brightened considerably. “Why, that’s sarsaparilla!”

Buddy set the mug down and shoved it away with one finger. “That’s what it is, all right. I should know. I’ve swallowed buckets of it. I don’t reckon I’ll drink another for the rest of my natural life.” He shuddered and turned from the bar. “How did you find me?”

“We weren’t planning to look in here, I can tell you that.” Jerry flashed his teeth and nodded. “Though it’s a good thing we did. We were headed to the hotel next door. I remembered staying there the last time we came to town.”

The lady elbowed past Jerry. “Gentlemen, please. We have no time for idle chatter.” She held out her hand. “Mr. Pierce, my name is Emily Dane. I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you.”

He nodded and returned the gesture. “So you’re Emily. I might’ve guessed.” While he couldn’t imagine a man letting go of a woman like Charity Bloom, the sight of the pretty little thing before him answered a few hard questions about Daniel Clark.

Buddy’s gaze traveled from Emily to Jerry then to Nash. He leaned to rest his elbows on the bar, amused by the improbable grouping. “So what’s going on here? Where did you three meet up, and what in tarnation are you doing in Houston?”

Emily’s expression was grave. “We came to find you, Mr. Pierce. I have a matter of utmost importance to discuss.”

Buddy smiled and winked at Jerry. “In that case, you’d best call me Buddy.”

She held his gaze. “All right, then ... Buddy.”

His grin widened. “Well, go ahead. Say what you traveled all this way to tell me. You have my undivided attention.”

She wasted no time getting to the point. “Charity’s in trouble and you’re the only one who can help her.”

Buddy bolted upright. His head reeled, his stomach churned, and it had nothing to do with the sarsaparilla. At least he didn’t think so. “What kind of trouble?”

Emily’s sober expression revealed little emotion, but her bright eyes blazed. “She’s about to marry Daniel Clark.”

His heart eased and he slumped on the bar stool, wholly defeated. “Miss Dane, I’m afraid you came all this way to tell me what I already know. Forgive my boldness, but you and I are the only poor souls who find that news disquieting.” He spun on his heel. “Now if you’ll excuse me...”

She clutched his arm. “That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Pierce. Charity’s plenty disquieted. She may be set to marry Daniel, but she’s in love with you.”

Buddy twisted to look over his shoulder. “What did you say?”

“It’s true. Trust me. I heard it from a reliable source.”

“Then why?”

“I’ll cut straight through the fat. Charity has to be married by day’s end tomorrow or Bertha loses her home to Shamus Pike. She felt she had no choice but to marry whoever was handy, so she hoodwinked Daniel and got him to propose. You weren’t there, and she feared you wouldn’t make it back in time.”

“But I was there.”

“I know. I watched Daniel drive you out of town.”

Buddy flushed at her rebuke. “Didn’t you tell her?”

Emily lowered her eyes. “She’s not exactly speaking to me just now.” Then she raised her head, her expression fierce. “I figured it would mean more to her if I show up with you by my side.”

“You don’t think Daniel said anything?”

Emily sneered. “What do you think?”

“But I gave him a saddlebag full of money for Bertha. Didn’t he give it to her?”

“No, and he won’t until after the wedding or they’ll know you came back. That’s information he’ll play close to his chest until Charity says, ‘I will,’ tomorrow.”

Tomorrow!
The word caused a jolt to his middle. He stood, tall and determined. “Charity won’t be saying, ‘I will,’ to Daniel ever, if I have anything to say about it.” He turned and counted out money onto the bar then strode past Emily toward the door.

Jerry called to him, but it didn’t slow him down. Outside on the boardwalk, Jerry burst out of the saloon behind him, his voice frantic. “Buddy, wait up. Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have a train to catch.”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

Something in the way he said it made Buddy stop and turn. Jerry ran into him. Emily and Nash weren’t far behind.

“Why don’t I?”

“We came in on the last run from Humble, that’s why. There won’t be another one out until tomorrow morning.”

Buddy glanced around at their faces. When Emily nodded, he continued down the boardwalk with the three of them fast on his heels.

Jerry ran to catch up. “Slow up a mite, big fella. What do you aim to do?”

“I aim to hire me a horse and ride to Humble.”

“Aw, Buddy! Now you have me wondering if sarsaparilla is all you’ve had to drink. Riding to Humble is a foolhardy idea. By the time you can get there, the whole town will be rolled up for the night.”

He whipped around. “I have to see Charity.”

“What for? To wake her up?”

“Then I’ll go see Clark first and set him straight.”

Nash’s eyes widened. “No, suh. That’ll just land you in irons.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do what I need to if it’ll stop that marriage.”

Emily tugged on Buddy’s shirt. “The wedding’s not until noon tomorrow, if that helps.”

Buddy knew she meant to comfort him, but the words caused a band to tighten around his head. “Miss Dane, if you’ll take a closer look at our situation, you’ll realize that’s not much time.” He freed his shirtsleeve from her fingertips and hastened down the boardwalk.

The livery was shut up tight and padlocked when they arrived. Buddy grasped his head and moaned then pounded on the doors until the proprietor stepped out of a side entrance with a large key ring dangling from his hand.

“Sorry, folks. We’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Buddy hustled his direction with Jerry and Nash on his heels. “Sir, this won’t take much of your time. I need a horse right away.”

Emily crowded in between them. “He means four horses.”

Keys jingling, the pale, scrawny man scratched his armpit. “Yep. You and half of Houston. I ain’t got none available. Might have a couple in the morning though.”

Buddy shifted his weight to peer between the cracks in the boards. “I can’t wait that long. You must have something in there I could ride.”

“Something
we
could ride,” Emily corrected, bobbing and weaving beside him, trying to see inside the stable.

The liveryman sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He regarded Emily as if trying to guess her weight. “I got one broken-down nag. She’s along in years and swaybacked. Couldn’t handle anyone heavier than this little gal here.”

All eyes swung to Emily. Her throat worked up and down, but she took a bold step forward. “We’ll take her.”

Buddy held up his hand. “What good will that do?”

She frowned her opinion of his question. “I could ride ahead and tell Charity you’re coming.”

Nash chuckled. “That old mare gon’ wind up riding you into town.”

Jerry grinned. “We’ll wave at you in the morning as our train passes you by.”

Buddy steeled his jaw. “It’s out of the question, Miss Dane. Too dangerous.”

Nash sobered. “He’s right, Miss Emmy. I cain’t let you do it.”

The liveryman finished locking the side door then leaned against the wall. “Sure wish I could help.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” Buddy said. “Maybe you still can. Do you know anyone who might be willing to sell me a horse? I’m willing to pay handsomely.”

The old fellow’s eyes lit. He pointed behind him. “Like I said, I got this mare—” After a glance at Buddy’s scowl, he shrugged. “Sorry, mister.”

“That’s the best you can do?”

“Haven’t you looked around? This town’s gone mad since they struck oil in Humble. Makes a man wish he had a hundred horses. Even then, I don’t guess I’d have any for you folks tonight.”

Buddy had heard of men keeling over from grievous frustration. Thankfully, they were much older, or the rate of his heartbeat would concern him. He hit the wall with a balled-up fist, rattling the doors and arousing a muffled whinny from the lone horse inside. “Blast it! Now what?”

They all stared at him with startled faces. The liveryman took a broad step in the other direction.

Emily gripped his shoulder. “We’ll think of something, Mr. Pierce.”

Without waiting to hear what the pretty lady’s
something
might be, Buddy tore off down the street.

Jerry rushed to get in front of him, walking backwards while he talked. “Listen, Buddy, the train pulls out at dawn tomorrow. You can rest tonight and still make it in plenty of time. That makes more sense than riding hard all night and arriving bushed. What do you say to that?”

Buddy slowed his stride, considering Jerry’s suggestion. “I don’t think so.”

Emily nodded toward Jerry. “He’s right, Mr. Pierce. Something could happen to you on the trail at night. You could be ambushed or your horse might break a leg. Then you’d never make it in time to save Charity.”

He stopped walking. “That’s the first thing anyone has said that makes sense.”

“Besides,” she continued, “you don’t know what you’ll be walking into when you get there. You’ll want to be fresh and clear-minded.”

Buddy’s gaze traveled from Emily to Jerry then back to Emily. “None of it sits well with me, but it appears I have no choice.”

Jerry slapped him on the back. “Now you’re talking. Let’s see the lady tucked in for the night and go get us some shut-eye.”

Shut-eye was the last thing Buddy would get with every muscle twitching to get back to Charity. “I plan to be the first man on that train in the morning. You hear?”

Despite Jerry’s smaller size and Buddy’s dragging feet, Jerry hustled him down the boardwalk toward the hotel. Emily ran alongside, panting from the effort to keep up, and Nash lumbered along behind them. Inside, Buddy arranged rooms for the three of them and inquired about shelter for Nash.