CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) (37 page)

             
Gabriel waited outside, an axe rested on his shoulder. “Ready to get that tree?”

             
Charity grinned and nodded. After her conversation with Gabriel and the subsequent visit from Amos, things were tense again around the Williams homestead. When Amos rode away, Gabriel had stalked to the barn, not to return until supper time. Then, he made it clear he was unhappy that Charity hadn’t told him about Amos’s visit around Thanksgiving. She sighed. She should have told him, yes, but the damage was done. No sense in acting as if the world had ended.

             
Maybe it was the fact Amos wanted to wed Charity if Gabriel lost the wager that had his long johns in a bind. Not that she had any intention of agreeing to such a preposterous proposal. She had told Gabriel that, but the silly man wouldn’t listen. Pride was a powerful thing. She doubted she would ever understand its mighty hold on men.

             
Clouds pregnant with snow filled the sky. A breeze, cold enough to set Charity’s eyes to tearing, flew across them, singing through the branches of pine trees. She buttoned her coat
, wiped her sleeve across her eyes,
and followed her family.

             
Gabriel led them at a steady pace down the creek before veering up the mountain. As they traveled, the trees thickened, casting them into a twilight darkness. “Where are we going?”

             
“There’s a meadow
farther on
,” Gabe shouted over his shoulder. “That I promise will have the perfect tree.”

             
Charity exchanged a skeptical glance with Meg and continued, her leg muscles burning with the effort. Gabriel and Sam climbed with barely a struggled breath. Despite the cold and rugged terrain, pleasure filled Charity at the simple tradition of chopping down a tree for Christmas. For as long as she could remember, her da had always gotten her one, even if it was only small enough to sit on a table.

             
“We’ve never had a tree in the house before,” Meg said, slipping her mittened hand into Charity’s.

             
“Then you’re in for a wonderful surprise. Once we get home we’ll make garland. Keep your eyes open for lush green swags to hang above the fireplace.” Charity smiled down. “
A tree is a wonderful tradition passed down from generation to generation in Europe.”

             
“Here we are.” Gabriel stepped back and ushered them into a meadow covered with an unspoiled carpet of snow. A small clusters of young firs clustered in the center of the meadow, highlighted by a break in the clouds.

             
Charity clapped her hands. What a gift they’d been given.
Her
gaze
lit on the perfect tree.

###

Charity set the last wrapped gift under the Christmas tree and stepped back. Paper garlands and fabric b
ows made the small pine festive. Swags of greenery adorned the mantel.

The children
had
finally f
allen
asleep an hour ago. Gabriel labored on something in the barn. Charity lowered herself into his leather chair and prepared to enjoy the quiet
for just a little while
.

             
T
onight was Christmas Eve and her husband was holed up in the barn. What would it be like to snuggle with him in front of the fire? To know they would share a bed that night and rejoice, together, at the glee on the children’s faces come morning when they opened their gifts? Would he like the books she had purchased for him? The shirt
she had sewed
?

             
She sighed and rubbed her hands over the worn leather chair arms.
She should be sitting in the rocker. This chair was Gabriel’s domain, but sitting here made her feel closer to him, despite her wanting to remain at a distance. Oh, life and the emotions that went with it were too complicated to dwell on so late at night.

             
She lowered the wick on the lamp and headed to bed. The children would wake them early.

###

             
Gabe sanded the last piece of the pine nativity he
had
carved for Charity, then laid the baby Jesus in the manger. H
e h
ope
d
she had finally gone to bed so he could have the nativity set up under the tree
when
she woke
in the morning
. He glanced at the carved doll cradle for Meg, and the new rifle for Sam. He had worked late many nights out in the barn, but the looks on his family’s faces would be worth the lack of sleep.

             
He hefted the items in his arms
and trudged through the falling snow to the house. Charity had left the lamp lit and more packages sat under the tree. The scent of pine filled the room, and Gabe smiled at the decorating. The tree sat in a corner, taking up more space than they could afford to lose. He had definitely missed a woman’s touch
in the place
over the last couple of years.

             
The nativity looked great under the tree, Mary and Joseph watching over the baby Jesus while shepherds looked on. He had even had time to carve the wisemen and some sheep.
The nativity wasn’t the only gift he had for his wife. He prayed he had done well in choosing something feminine.

He wrapped Sam’s rifle in
an
old blanket and leaned it against the wall. Satisfied he had done everything he could to make tomorrow perfect, he shucked his clothes and crawled into bed.

             
The next morning, Meg and Sam jumped on him while Charity smiled. “Merry Christmas,” they called.

             
“Merry Christmas.” He waited for Charity to turn around before pulling on his pants.

             
She had donned a ratty robe over her flannel nightclothes and tied her hair back in a green ribbon. “Should we have breakfast or do presents first?”

             
“Presents!” The children dashed to the tree. The dogs barked, joining in the frivolity.

             
“Wait.” Gabriel removed his Bible from the mantel. “We read from Luke first. Same as every year.”

             
“Someone hung up our stockings!” Meg pulled hers free from a nail, ripping Charity’s careful stitching. Gabe glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

She blushed and nodded.
“A nativity? It’s beautiful, Gabriel.”

             
“There’s an orange and nuts inside
our stockings
. A
nd a
peppermint stick!” Sam dumped his on the floor and shoved Prince away.

             
Gabe stepped closer to Charity. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of stockings.”

             
She shrugged, and took a seat in the rocker. “It’
s
what a
mothe
r
does
, I’m sure.”

             
“Maybe so.” He laughed and placed a kiss on the top of her curly head.
The fact she didn’t pull away, gave him hope. Hope that someday, she would accept a declaration of love from him.

It
a
l
so
pleased him that she didn’t seem as reluctant to hear him read from the Good Word as she once was. By the time he finished reading of the first Christmas, Sam and Meg were fairly bursting out of their skin. Charity seemed rather excited, too
, and the first scents of roasting goose began to fill their home
.

             
“Sam, why don’t hand out the gifts?” Gabe replaced his Bible.

             
“Yours is heavy, Pa!” Sam pushed a two
-
foot high
package
toward him. “I know what it is. Open it.”

             
“Let’s let Meg go first. She’s the youngest.”

             
“Yippee.” Meg unwrapped a new rag doll and hugged
it
to her chin. Wrapped with the toy was a dress for Meg that matched the emerald one the doll wore.
Gabe recognized the fabric and was glad to see something of Maggie’s benefit the children.
“Thanks, Ma. I will love her forever. Is that cradle for my doll?”

             
Gabe nodded. “Yep. Made it myself. Sam, take a look in the corner.” He thought his grin would split his face when tears welled in his son’s eyes at sight of the gun.

             
“It’s mine?”

             
“All yours. Respect it, now.” Gabe turned to Charity.

             
With her cheeks still pink, she unwrapped a thick present. Inside w
ere
yards of scarlet velvet and pearl studded hair combs. “Oh, Gabriel.” Her eyes shimmered in the firelight. “I can make a beautiful cloak with this. I’ve never had anything so fine as this fabric and these combs.”

             
“You’re welcome.” He unwrapped his gift, and gawked at the stack of books. “Where in heaven’s name did you find this many?
We could start a library.
” He lifted the top one. “Great Expectations? Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”

             
She beamed. “A miner turned them in
to the mercantile for credit. Do you like them?”

             
“I’ve books to read all winter. Books the children can read. Books to stock
shelves
in our new home.” The gesture was almost more than
Gabe
could bear. She couldn’t have gotten him a better gift if he had told her what to purchase.

             
“It’s a gift we can all enjoy, for sure. Open your others.”

             
He unwrapped a blue chambray shirt from Meg and thick
,
store-bought sock
s
from Sam. Where had they gotten the money for the gifts and books? He studied Charity’s face, not willing to ask a question that would wipe the happiness from it. He would accept her gracious gifts and keep his mouth shut.

###

             
The children dressed in their Christmas finery. Charity wore her best dress, a deep bl
ue wool skirt and white blouse
.
She protected her clothes with a ruffled red apron she had made
special
for the occasion. Lighting
candles on the table for breakfast,
she called the others to eat
and wished the day could go on forever.

             
“You look beautiful, Charity.” Gabriel took his seat at the head of the table.

             
She flushed. He had brought the goose in from the smoke house earlier and
she had put it in the stove before presents. The
mouth-watering aroma of roasting meat filled the house
and reminded her of Christmas with her ma and da
.

After breakfast, they would sit in front of the fire while the children played. Meg with her doll,
and
Sam with
the
tin soldiers he’d discovered stashed behind the tree. Gabriel would read, and Charity would crochet a new afghan to adorn their home. They would make a picture of the perfect loving family. A picture she would hold in her heart, much as Jesus’s mother
,
Mary
,
had pondered
words
after the visit from the angel.

             
Not that she compared herself to the Virgin Mary. Far from it, but she would treasure, and wonder, about the day’s perfectness her entire life.
Long after she left this place and headed only God knew where.

             
Despite Gabriel’s reluctance to
get
out his former wife’s good dishes, she
had
dug them out of
a crate in the barn and set the
table with the white chin
a
adorned with blue roses. Today’s meals deserved to be served on something pretty, even if that something once belonged to someone else.

             
She knew Gabriel wondered where the money for the gifts came from, and she admired his restraint in not asking. Once spring came, if she left, she would take in laundry again and build up her nest egg
again
. For now, she counted the money well spent.

             
Gabriel looked down at the dishes. “I’ll have to buy you your own someday. These were Maggie’s when she was married to her first husband.”

             
“And we’ll keep them for Meg to use in her home someday.” Charity set a plate of flapjakes in front of him.