CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) (41 page)

             
Obviously
her silence
did bother him, since he rattled on like a magpie. Charity clamped her lips together to keep from smiling.
It wouldn’t do to let him know she played him like a fiddle.

             
A gunshot sounded
about a mile
behind them. Charity screamed.
Gabriel was coming
for her
!
Amos clamped his hand over her mouth and kicked his horse into
a trot.

             
Within the hour they arrived in an Indian village. Teepees sat in a circle. Villagers in buckskin and furs stared as Amos steered the horse toward the largest tent.

             
A massive Indian that Charity didn’t know, parted a flap and emerged
with Red Feather
. Red Feather’s eyes widened at
the
sight of Charity. She shook her head, hoping he would read her unspoken message
and
pretend he didn’t know her.

             
“Do you speak English?” Amos demanded.

             
“I do. I translate to chief.” Red Feather gave a nod. “Why you here?”

             
Amos took a deep breath. “It has come to my attention that a young girl was killed. I did not shoot her, but she died as a result of my gun being fired. I have come to offer this woman in trade.” He slid Charity from the horse. She cried out as she landed on her wounded leg
and crumpled in the snow
.

             
Red Feather frowned and translated. “She is wounded.”

             
“Well,” Amos shrugged. “This one I did shoot when she tried to escape.
Once healed, she will make a fine slave
or wife
.
”

             
Red Feather motioned to a woman to assist Charity to her feet. He said something else to the chief, then returned his attention to Amos. “We accept your trade.” He cocked
his
head. “Where are her people?”

             
Amos met Charity’s gaze, and grinned. “I found her wandering in the storm
yesterday
.” He glanced at the rapidly increasing snowfall. “Now, that we have reached an agreement, I must head home myself
before I am snowed in
. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He tipped his hat and turned his horse.

             
Charity slumped to the ground.

             
Red Feather stood over her. “
Stand.
Do not let
the enemy
see you weak.”

             
She
grabbed the woman’s arm and
struggled to her feet.

             
“He will look back. Walk to that teepee on own two feet.”

             
Charity followed the direction he pointed
, trying not to lean too heavily on the woman helping her
. “Thank you for not letting him know we are acquainted.”

             
“
Babbling
Brook will tend to your wound. I will get word to your husband
as soon as possible
.” He gave another nod and ducked back into the teepee with the chief
, but not before Charity saw him motion to a young brave who immediately melted into the trees
.

             
Despite his evil, Charity’s heart constricted at the thought that Amos would have to pay for his crime after all. She sincerely doubted the brave followed to make sure the man made it home safely.

33

             
The Indian woman didn’t speak a word of English, but
spoke a mile a minute in her own tongue
. H
er
smile seemed like a permanent fixture on her face
,
helping to
set Charity at eas
e
.
She had only ever had experience with one Indian, Red Feather, yet she didn’t believe any of his tribe intended her harm.
They had stared a
s she walked to the teepee,
but they looked more
curious than hostile.

She
sat on top of a b
undle
of furs and watched while Babbling Brook dumped some
type
of powder in
to
a gourd of water. She stirred the concoction with a stick, then motioned for Charity to drink.

             
It smelled foul
, and Charity wrinkled her nose
. Babbling Brook
waved
harder.
Ugh. She didn’t think she could drink the liquid that was now a putrid shade of green. But if she didn’t, she risked hurting the feelings of someone who seemed to want to help her.
Charity closed her eyes and took a sip of the most rancid tasting thing she had ever put in her mouth. Heavens, the woman was trying to poison her.

             
Babbling Brook upended the gourd until Charity had no choice but to swallow
or drown
.
Her stomach churned
,
and her eyelids grew heavy
almost immediately
, w
hether from the drink or sheer exhaustion, she didn’t know. She only knew that rest suddenly became the most important thing to her
.

             
The smoke from the fire rose toward a hole in the tanned hide
s that made
the teepee’s walls. The tendrils danced a joyful jig on their way. Charity smiled and
wanted to
reachout
a hand to touch it
, but her arm wouldn’t move
. What was in the drink? If she had the energy to do so, she would ask for more, terrible taste or not.

The other woman gently nudged her back onto the
fur
s then lifted Charity’s skirt.
Charity ought to be embarrassed, but
she
couldn’t even muster the energy for that.

Babbling Brook
clicked her tongue and shook her head, then picked up a knife from a rock
in
the fire
ring
.
Charity hoped
the other woman intended no harm.
Too weak to stop her,
she
let the drowsiness overtake her and prayed for God to save her.

###

             
Gabe whipped around as a shot rang out. A deep rumbling high on the mountaintop filled the air. Amos Jenkins rode hard
through a narrow mountain pass
toward him
, a look of determination on his face
.

             
So this is how it
would
end. Gabe pulled his rifle free
, prepared to put an end to the silly feud
.
He didn’t want to shoot him, only
to
make the man stop long enough to listen to reason.

             
The rumbling grew louder
, and the ground shook under him
.
Rogue tossed his head and neighed in fear.

Gabe looked up. The mountainside barreled toward
the mountain pass
like a freight train
. He kicked Rogue into action
to get further away
, yelling over his shoulder. “Ride hard, Amos! Avalanche.
Hurry, man.
”
Amos
might be Gabe’s enemy, but Gabe didn’t want him dead
, and
the other man’s
location didn’t bode well. Amos rode directly in the avalanche
’
s path
, and most likely couldn’t hear Gabe’s warning over the noise
.

             
Amos’s
eyes widened.
His horse reared. Amos’s
mouth opened in a scream as the wall of snow swept over him
, taking him and the horse over a cliff
.
His heart sank. There was no way the man could survive a fall of that magnitude.

Gabe reined Rogue to a stop, his heart pounding in his throat.
He
made out the silhouette of an Indian
high on the ridge
.
Had he been the target
of Amos’s
bullet
and
not Gabe? Nevertheless, the gunshot must have started the avalanche.

             
Gabe dismounted and stared at the
wall
of white in front of him. There was no way he could take Rogue
over something
so
high and soft
, and they were too far from home to send the horse
back
alone
.
He couldn’t leave Meg and Sam alone any longer. Could he get Miriam to stay with them and then return with Hiram? Or had Charity found the Indian camp and sought shelter there?

He fell to his knees. What was Amos doing out here? Had he taken Charity? Was she still lost in the wilderness? He buried his face in his hands
. The myriad of questions
for which he had no answers
tormented him
.

His heart told him to continue, his head told him h
e could search no longer.
The children were alone. Forcing himself to his feet, he climbed back in the saddle
,
God, please protect he
r
.
He
turned Rogue toward home.

###

             
Charity
woke to the quiet murmurs of two people speaking in a foreign tongue. Her leg throbbed, and she reached down
to
inspect the damage
. Someone had bandaged her wound and dressed her
from head to toe
in soft doeskin. Her hair spread free across the furs she lay on.
She wanted nothing more than to drift back to sleep, but her rumbling stomach wouldn’t allow her to.

             
“Food.” Red Feather thrust a bowl of meat and vegetables at her.

             
She pushed to a sitting position. “Thank you. How long was I sleeping?”

             
He shrugged. “Few hours.
Long enough for Babbling Brook to close wound in leg.
”

             
“Gabriel hasn’t come for me?” She thought he would have by now. What if Amos had gotten to him before the Indian brave
got to Amos
? “Where did you send that young man?”

             
Red Feather squatted in front of her. “After the man who shot you. The one who killed the young brave’s
woman
. They were to be …wed … in the spring.
She was my niece.
”

             
“I’m sorry.”
Charity tipped the bowl and slurped some of the stew. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one
who
shot Gabriel, too. But, Red Feather, killing is wrong.”

             
“I am not
the one
killing him.”
He poked at the fire with a stick and avoided Charity’s gaze.

             
“You sent someone to do so
,
therefore you are also at fault.” Charity didn’t want to argue with the man who most likely saved her life. “
I apologize. I mean no disrespect.”

             
“Not all my people believe in the white man’s God. My nephew is such a one.” Red Feather
tossed the stick into the fire and
sat cross-legged
in front of her
. “Most do, but not him. He believes in a life for a life. Chief tried to talk him out of going
after the white man
, but he insisted. It is his decision.”

             
Charity nodded and ate more of the simple stew.
“The
O
ld Testament speaks of a
’
n eye-for-an-eye,
’
but Jesus abolished that
when he died
on the cross
.” She smiled, remembering some of the things her Ma had taught her. Things Charity had chosen to forget.

             
“God has seen fit to give you
to
us, and take Amos Jenkins
.
”

             
Charity stared at him in surprise. He couldn’t be serious.