Chasing Charity (9 page)

She could tell he wanted to catch her reaction. She forced herself not to have one.

Buddy seemed not to notice. He reached up and shook Daniel’s hand. “Buddy Pierce. I work for an oil company here in town.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Pierce.” Though he spoke to Buddy, Daniel stared at Charity. “Can I give you a ride into town, honey? You could use some cleaning up, and I’m headed that way.”

The endearment stiffened Charity’s spine. Daniel Clark was cockier than a man had a right to be. No matter how black his hair or broad his shoulders, there were some things you just didn’t do. Besides, how did he know she was staying in town?

She took a step closer to Buddy. “No, thank you. Mr. Pierce will take me.”

Daniel’s dark eyebrows rose; then his gaze swept to Buddy. “I’ll leave you in his capable hands then.” He tipped his wide-brimmed hat and turned his horse.

“Daniel...?”

Leather creaked as he shifted his weight to look at her.

She swallowed the ache in her throat and met his eyes. “Thank you. For shooting the wolf, I mean.”

He held her gaze until her cheeks grew warm. Mischief teased the corners of his mouth. He glanced at Buddy. “I’d shoot a wolf for you any old time, sugar.” He winked then spurred his horse and rode away.

Sidney fetched a shovel from his pack and bent to scoop up the carcass. Charity spun away from the gruesome sight. She doubted she’d ever forget the big animal standing over her, its trembling legs coiled and ready to spring.

Buddy’s hands gripped her shoulders from behind. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Charity. I feel responsible.”

She reached to touch his fingers. “You? Nonsense. How could it be your fault?”

He stepped around to face her. “If I hadn’t pouted like a schoolboy this morning, I would’ve taken a closer look at those tracks you found.” He glanced over at the wolf. “I expect they belonged to our friend there.”

Charity shook her head. “It’s nobody’s fault. And like you said, it’s over now.”

He smiled, mostly with his eyes, and nodded. “Let’s get you back to town, then.” His arm went across her shoulders, his grip firm.

Tucked against him, she felt safe. She allowed him to guide her to where the bay stood pawing the ground. On the way, she saw his hat, saved from the mud by a thatch of tall grass. She bent and picked it up, brushing it off before handing to him, but his curious gaze followed Daniel up the trail.

“That your Daniel?”

She halted, nearly tripping him, and dashed his hat to the ground. “He’s not my Daniel! Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Buddy’s forehead crumpled. “Ease up, little lady. I didn’t mean to pry.” He leaned for his hat, wiped the fresh mud from the brim onto his jeans, and walked on ahead.

Charity cringed and pressed her knuckles to her eyes. “Buddy, please wait.”

Whatever she meant to say next, the words were lost when he stopped short and turned. Embarrassed, she spit out the first thing that came to mind. “Goodness, but you’re a cantankerous man. You keep me in a constant state of gratitude or regret. I never know whether to thank you or say I’m sorry.”

He lifted a brow. “Which one you offering this time?”

She winced. “Definitely the latter. I’m sorry. I truly am. I’m not the least bit mad at you. It’s that insufferable Daniel Clark.” She glared up the trail. “Have you ever witnessed such arrogance? Why, the nerve of him.”

“He did seem mighty friendly, considering.”

A blush crept up her cheeks.

Buddy brought the horse around and motioned for her to climb on. When she lifted her foot to the stirrup, he frowned at her mud-covered pants. “Reckon it’s too late to whistle for old Daniel? I’m not sure I care to cozy up behind those all the way into town.”

She swung into the saddle. “Don’t tease. It’s not funny.”

He climbed up behind her and leaned to take the reins, so close his breath tickled her cheek. “It’s none of my business, but if you ask me, Daniel Clark is a man having some regrets.”

She squirmed around to glare at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

Buddy flicked the reins. “Like I said, Miss Bloom, it’s none of my business.”

Emily Dane sprawled in her four-poster bed, idly gnawing a drumstick. Barefoot and still in her nightdress, she lay propped against goose-down pillows, one long leg crossed over the other. With her free hand, she twirled one of the blond ringlets framing her face while admiring the smooth, bare skin of her knees.

“You’re downright scandalous in your impropriety, Emily Dane.”

Mama’s stern voice in her head made her giggle. That’s what she’d say, all right, but what of it? According to Mama, she was forever downright scandalous in one silly thing or the other.

Emmy froze midbite and stared down at the greasy poultry until her eyes crossed.
Gracious! If I keep this up, I’ll be prime pork and ready for the slaughter.
She extended her leg and stared, examining it from every angle before she smiled.
Then my thighs won’t be quite so fetching, now, will they?

Deliberately, and with great satisfaction, she flicked her wrist, tossing the half-eaten chicken leg through the open window. “There you go, Mama. Another pretty rose for your garden.”

Emmy wiped her fingers on the lace napkin in her lap then gaped at the dark oily spots left behind. She had smuggled the fried chicken to her room wrapped in one of Mama’s best linens. Holding the square of delicate cloth aloft, she surveyed the mess. “Oh bother! They’ll hear her clear to Montgomery County if she gets wind of this.”

She rolled onto her stomach and slid to the edge of the bed, peering into the dark recess between the floor and her lumpy mattress. Fighting to keep her balance, she leaned further in and worked at a tear by the nearest slat until she had removed a handful of fluff. Then she tucked the soiled cloth deep inside the hole. After stuffing the cotton in after it, she pushed upright and lay back with a satisfied smile.

There. Now she won’t need to fret.

A thought flitted past, changing her smile to a frown. It was Mama’s own fault, after all, for opening the door to Charity and Aunt Bert. She left Emmy no choice but to rummage like a thief in her own kitchen, so she’d have to live with the occasional missing napkin, now, wouldn’t she?

She flopped on her side and stared at the floral wallpaper. During her confinement, she had memorized the line of every petal and every shade of pink. She knew how many blooms adorned each wall, as well as the numbers facing left and right. She had stared at the big ugly roses for days now, and they’d stared right back, silent witnesses to her frustration.

In truth, her history with the flowers started more than mere days ago. The horrid walls had been her constant companions for the past eight years, since Papa hired her room remodeled the summer she turned twelve. No one had touched it since. For Emmy, the youthful decor had long since lost its charm.

No matter. Soon she’d be mistress of her own big house, filled with brand-new rooms to look at, to decorate however she saw fit. Daniel had built it for Charity, but Charity would never live there. Emmy would marry Daniel, and the pretty, brick-fronted structure with its wide columns and a porch that wrapped all the way around would be hers. And there wouldn’t be a pink rose in sight.

Hugging her pillow, she rolled to the other side of the bed where her vanity table beckoned. She knew she should dress and freshen up, but why go to all the trouble? Why wash her face, pin up her hair, get all gussied up for these four walls?

Hooves pounded up the drive. She leaped from the bed and rushed to her second-floor window, arriving just as the horse and rider passed from sight, hidden by the tangled branches of the oak outside her window. She peered out, using the lace curtain for cover, and caught a quick glimpse of muddy boots as the caller moved under the portico.

Next came the strident, angry voice of Auntie Bert. “You got a lot of nerve coming around here, Daniel Clark.”

Emmy gasped.
Daniel? What in the world...?

“There ain’t no need for that shotgun, ma’am.”

Shotgun!
Emmy’s heart pounded so hard she feared they’d hear it downstairs.

Daniel’s familiar voice rumbled, but she couldn’t make out his words. Desperate to see, she leaned over as far as possible, but the front porch roof hid all but their feet.

Aunt Bert’s voice became shrill. “Did you say wolf?”

“Mad with rabies, Mrs. Bloom. I shot it dead.”

“Is my girl all right?”

“She’s safe enough—from any four-legged threat, at least.”

“What do you mean by that?” This from Emmy’s mama.

“Mrs. Dane, there are prowling wolves of the two-legged sort that can be just as dangerous.”

Aunt Bert’s voice took a hard edge. “You can say that again. I’m looking at one.”

Mama shushed her.

After an edgy silence, Aunt Bert piped up again. “What is it you’re trying to say to us, boy?”

“If you’re really aiming to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Get on with it, then.”

Emmy strained to hear, but Daniel’s next words escaped her. She considered shimmying down the trellis and listening from behind the hedge but feared they’d catch her. She leaned so far out she had to tangle the fingers of both hands in the ancient vines to keep from toppling headfirst out of the window.

“Mrs. Bloom, you don’t even know where Charity is, do you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I know exactly where she is. She’s over at the Lone Star Hotel under the watchful eye of a friend.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “I suppose by
friend
you mean Buddy Pierce?”

“Yep. I got that nice boy looking out for my Charity. If it weren’t for the likes of you and her so-called best friend, she’d be here with me where she belongs.”

Emmy cringed, but Daniel let it pass. “Well, ma’am, that nice boy you speak of is a stranger around these parts, ain’t he? Just how much do you know about him?”

Aunt Bert was quiet for so long Emmy wondered if she’d heard Daniel’s question.

“I’ve had about enough out of you!”

She heard, all right. Fury boiled from Aunt Bert’s mouth, so fierce it singed the fuzz on Emmy’s ears.

“I ain’t answering no more questions from a polecat. I trusted you with my girl once, but you turned out to be a fizzle. Don’t come around here now telling me who to trust with my own daughter.”

“Pour it into him, Bert. He ain’t good for nothing but telling lies and shaming young girls.”

Emmy’s grip tightened on the vines.
Oh, Mama! How could you?

Daniel’s raised voice echoed beneath the vaulted roof. “What you think of me don’t change the facts, Bertha Bloom. You ought to know I just parted company with Charity and Mr. Pierce. Your nice boy there had his hands all over Charity, right out in the open in the bright of day.”

Tension charged the air, like the second before lightning strikes.

Emmy felt the hair on her scalp lift.

“I don’t believe you.” Aunt Bert’s voice crashed the answering thunder.

“Ask Sidney Anderson and Jack Mayhew. They’ll tell you it’s true.”

“No! I’m saying I don’t believe you had the brash to march up here and spout something like this about my Charity, after what all you done to her.” Aunt Bert’s pitch might’ve shattered glass.

Another weighty hush.

Daniel shuffled his feet. “I didn’t come here to fret nobody,” he finally said. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

“All I want to know is you in your saddle, riding away from here.”

More silence. Emmy imagined them staring each other down.

Then Daniel’s parting words floated up, as chipper as if they’d gathered for a Sunday social. “I’ll take my leave then, ladies. You two have a pleasant day now, you hear?” Emmy pictured him tipping his hat, turning a rigid spine to the old biddies and walking away.

She withdrew a bit when Daniel stepped down off the porch and headed for his horse. He mounted up then rode out from under the oak tree and down the drive, slinging mud in his wake.

The women were still on the porch muttering dark curses at his back. Emmy leaned out again to better hear what Aunt Bert was saying.

“Why, if I weren’t a lady, I’d kick him into a pulp.”

“I’d tie him up and hold him for you. What you think he’s up to, Bert?”

“No good, I’d say. Seems to be pulling some kind of a bluff.”

Her mama paused for a bit before asking the question plaguing Emmy’s mind. “You don’t think there’s any truth to what he said, do you?”

Aunt Bert’s tone chilled Emmy’s spine. “Magda ... there’d better not be.”

More shuffling feet, and then the door closed behind them.

Emmy pulled her head inside and made a mad dash for her clothes, dressing as if the house was on fire. On the way to climb out the window, she cast a glance at her image in the mirror over the dresser.

Drat! Her hair needed pinning, but there was no time to do it right. She had to catch Daniel.

He would take the trail out. She could catch him if she cut across the fields on Rebel. She wouldn’t dare try it if Papa was home. Oh, there’d be trouble if she got caught. Terrible trouble. But she could outrun Mama.

In the barn, she paused before saddling old Rebel. Papa prized the palomino, still the fastest horse on the place, over most things in life, sometimes even her and Mama. Only there was no time to weigh the consequences. Daniel was riding away.

Five minutes later, Emmy raced across the field. She urged the horse through a tight thicket then over a marshy low spot to Jordan Gully. Despite her wishes, he slowed to pick his way across a deep ditch on the row of planks fashioned into a makeshift bridge. At the trail, she saw Daniel and laid a switch to Rebel’s flank.

“Daniel! Oh, Daniel, wait.”

He turned in the saddle and reined up his horse. As she approached, he drew alongside, and the press of his leg against her thigh took her breath.

“Emmy, what in blazes are you doing out here?”

The sound of her name in Daniel’s long drawl raised gooseflesh on her arms. “I came to talk to you.”

“Where’d you come from? I was just at your place.”

“I know. I heard everything. Wasn’t it dreadful?”

Daniel nudged his hat up and checked the trail behind her. “Come on. We’d best get you out of sight.” He took the reins from her hand and led her horse into the cover of trees and thick underbrush.

They dismounted, and Emmy threw herself against him. “I had to come, sugar. I just had to. Please don’t be cross.” She pulled away to look at him. “I’m appalled by the hateful way Mama spoke to you. It made me feel sick to my stomach.”

Daniel squirmed in her arms and didn’t return her embrace. “If she catches us together, she’ll have my hide and yours, too. I’m hardly in her good graces just now—or Bertha Bloom’s, for that matter.”

“Who cares? It’s not fair. How dare those cackling crones treat you so shamefully! Would they rather you’d married Charity when you love me? What sort of life would that be for either of you? I say it’s a blessing you woke up in time.”

Her arms were tight around his neck, her body pressed close, but Daniel stood stiff as a plank with his arms to his sides.

She wiggled impatiently. “Hold me, sweetheart, and don’t you fret. Things will turn out right in the end. We’ll make them understand it was for the best. You’ll see. Mama will finally come around to our way of thinking. Charity, too, for that matter.”

At the mention of Charity’s name, Daniel’s body tensed, and he pushed her away. “I just don’t know anymore, Emmy.”

The tone of his voice, his gruff manner, even the sick-cow look on his face were all new to Emmy, and they frightened her. “What, sugar?” She tried to get a look at his eyes, but his head was lowered. “What don’t you know?”

“It won’t be that easy now. There’s more to consider.”

She drew back a step. “More to consider? Like what?”

Daniel took off his hat and used his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Then he propped the toe of his boot on a fallen tree and leaned into it, staring off into the woods.

Emmy watched and waited.

He cut his eyes around to her. “It’s Mama.”

Emmy knew they’d have her own mama’s ruffled feathers to contend with, and Aunt Bert’s, too. The mention of Mrs. Clark came straight out of nowhere. “Your mama? What about her?”

Daniel’s foot slid off the tree and hit the dry leaves with a crash. He straightened and faced her, and his piercing blue eyes sliced her to the bone. “Emmy, she don’t feel the same about you. She don’t want us together.”

Emmy’s jaw dropped. Icy fingers of fear gripped the nape of her neck. She recovered and tried to smile, but her mouth quivered. “Don’t be silly! She likes me. You’ve told me so a dozen times.” She clutched her skirt in bunches to still her trembling hands. “Of course, you didn’t need to tell me. I could see it for myself, whenever I was with her.” She swallowed, trying to force the shrillness from her voice. “It’s Charity she don’t approve of, not me. She said I’m a much better catch than Bertha Bloom’s daughter. You said so yourself.”

Belligerence set Daniel’s lips in a hard line. “That was before we shamed her in front of the whole town and tarnished her precious reputation. She’s singing a different tune now, and it ain’t a lullaby.” He dashed his hat against his leg so hard it made her jump. “All because you chased me from the church house like a lovesick heifer. Why didn’t you just keep your behind on that pew, Emmy? Couldn’t you act like a lady for once?”

Emmy closed her gaping mouth and swiped her hand across it. “You’ll take up for me, won’t you? With your mama, I mean?”

He lowered his eyes and turned his back on her.

She rushed him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’ll take a stand for me—for us—won’t you?”

Daniel’s body went rigid again. Even his voice came out stilted. “Maybe we need to let things cool down some. Give folks time to forget.”

She released him and withdrew. “The other night under that oak tree you didn’t say anything about cooling down.”

“Don’t talk like a trollop. Besides, it ain’t like that.”

“What’s it like, then?” Emmy felt like a shrew. She heard the harsh, strident tone of her voice but couldn’t stop. “You can’t even look at me, Daniel? I’ve risked everything to be with you. What will you risk for me?”