Chasing Charity (30 page)

Shamus Pike stood on the road outside the church. Red strained at the tether in his hand, pawing the ground and whining to get free.

Before Charity could stop her, Mama stomped off the porch and across the chapel lawn. Charity tightened her grip on Buddy’s hand and hurried down the steps with the others falling in behind. “You’re too late, Shamus,” Mama spewed. “They’re married now. Whatever you hoped to gain by coming here won’t work. We’re onto your tricks.”

Shamus held up his hands in surrender. “No tricks, Bertha, I swear.”

“That’d be a stretch to believe. What are you doing here?”

“I come to bring little Charity there a wedding present.” The strain on his face turned his weak smile into a grimace. “Found this old dog here over to Magda’s again yesterday morning and hauled him home.”

The grimace grew wider, and he chuckled. “Weren’t even lunchtime before he was right back over there. Ain’t no rope will hold him, and I just can’t see penning him up all the time.”

Mama took a step forward, her fists clenched. “We ain’t interested in your present or your story. Now clear out.”

Charity gripped her arm. “Wait. Let him speak.”

Shamus turned haunted eyes on Charity. “Red’s always looking for you, gal. He’s powerful spoilt to you of a sudden. I figure this hound has his heart set on where he wants to be, and I can’t fight it no more.” He held the rope out to her. “You’d be doing me a favor if you’d just go ahead and take him.”

Thunderstruck, Charity fumbled to speak. Shamus parting with Red was unthinkable. “Are you sure?”

His expression looked more like a smile now. “Consider him a wedding gift from me and my girls. Please take him, Charity. I think it would’ve pleased Thad.”

“Don’t speak his name,” Mama hissed. “You ain’t worthy of it.”

Charity pulled her back. “Mama, don’t—”

Shamus held up his hand. “No, let her talk. It’s the truth, and she’s got every right to say it.”

The anguish on his face made Charity’s insides ache.

He turned to Mama. “Just let me explain a few things, Bertha; then I’ll be on my way.”

Charity slid her arm around her mama’s waist. “Go ahead, Mr. Pike. Have your say.”

Before he spoke, Shamus eyed Mama as if waiting for her to protest. “I don’t know if you all know this, but my wife is descended from royal stock.”

Mother Dane nodded. “I reckon Elsa’s mentioned it once or twice.”

Mama grunted. “Once or twice a day.”

Shamus lowered his eyes. “Oh, she wallows in it, all right, but it’s true enough. Her great-grandpappy was the ruler of some foreign country I can’t even pronounce. A real blue blood who left behind plenty of money. ’Course the family pretty much disowned Elsa after she run off with a poor farmer like me.”

He got a faraway look in his eyes. “I guess my Elsa loved me in the early days. Back then she made me feel like I was a king myself.” He shook his head. “But I ain’t never provided for her the way she was accustomed to. Not like she deserved.” He sighed. “I told myself if I could just do more, work harder...” He faltered and looked away.

Charity met Mother Dane’s eyes over Mama’s head.

“Folks all around me were striking oil and getting rich, and not a drop to be found on my whole place. You have to understand, it made me feel doomed to failure.”

Shamus dropped his shoulders and cried great, gulping sobs that tore from his throat and sent chills up Charity’s spine. He cried so hard it forced him to his knees, and he knelt there and sobbed out the rest. “Bertha, I’m so ashamed. I told myself it was for Thad, that a woman alone couldn’t manage the kind of money you’d come into, that I would still provide for you and Charity.” He covered his ears with his hands as if he couldn’t stand to hear his own words. “The truth is, I wanted it for my girls. I needed to see them proud of me again.”

Peering at Mama with grief-stricken eyes, he began to plead. “I know it’s no excuse for what I done to you and Charity, Bertie, but Lord knows, I’m sorry. Could you ever find it in your hearts to forgive me?”

When Charity started toward Shamus, Red surged forward, pulling free of Shamus’s hand. He reached Charity and leaped, prancing around on his hind legs.

Buddy caught the rope just in time to keep the dog off her dress and handed him off to Nash. Then he helped Charity lift the sobbing man to his feet.

Charity wrapped her arms around Shamus. “There now. Please don’t cry, Mr. Pike. Of course we forgive you.”

Mama planted herself in glaring defiance. “Don’t you dare speak for me, daughter. I do no such thing. I ain’t forgave nothing.”

Whipping around, Charity stared at her in disbelief. “Mama, look at him!”

“I don’t care.”

Motioning for Emmy to join her, Charity walked to where Mama stood, all tight fists and rigid back. She placed Emmy between them and pulled her into a tight embrace from behind. “Mama, you’ve always tried to live your life according to God’s Word, and you taught me to do the same. Now isn’t that true?”

She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“Don’t you remember the passage that says, ‘Ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good’? Look around you. This day would be so different if Emmy hadn’t done what she did. I’m not saying she did a good thing, but God turned it around and used it to bless us. If I hadn’t forgiven her, if she wasn’t here to share it with me, this day would hold far less meaning.”

She gave Emmy one more squeeze then took hold of Mama’s shoulders, pointing her to where Shamus cried unashamedly next to Buddy. “He made a terrible mistake, but Shamus was Papa’s dearest friend. He came here today to ask for mercy.”

Mama shrugged and swayed like a stubborn child. “Maybe someday I’ll give it. Just not today. The hurt’s too fresh.”

“He’s asking today.”

“I want to,” she whispered, slanting her eyes up at Charity. “I just cain’t. What he done was too bad.”

Charity gave her a pointed look. “And where is that written in scripture?”

Still sullen, Mama stared off down the road for a time before she answered. “I guess it ain’t.”

“And what is? You’ve said it to me a thousand times.”

Mama dropped her shoulders and sighed. “‘If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.’”

Shamus staggered forward, a plea in his hollow eyes. “I can’t live with myself no more, Bert. Please grant me pardon. I won’t go home ’til you do. I’ll hound you worse than Red’s done Charity.”

Charity slid her arm around her mama’s waist. “I think your someday has come. Today is a perfect day for forgiveness.”

Mama tensed in Charity’s arms. She shuddered and sighed once more before her body relaxed. Pulling free, she turned to smile at each expectant face. “We’ve laid a feast for my daughter’s wedding party over to the Danes’ house. I expect to see all of you there.”

She squared her shoulders and started across the yard. As she passed by Shamus, she paused, her eyes still aimed straight ahead. “Nash laid a wild hog and some backstrap on the pit. Seeing you’re partial to smoked meat, why don’t you fetch Elsa and Amy Jane and come on by the house.”

Shamus reached as if to touch her arm but didn’t. “Thank you, Bertha. I know right well I don’t deserve it.”

As if they were the words she needed to hear, Mama met his eyes at last. “None of us do, Shamus. None of us do.”

She peered up at him for several minutes, one hand on her hip, the other shading her eyes from the sun, until she seemed to come to a decision. “Say, do you know anything about raising cattle?”

The man’s shame-laden eyelids widened in surprise. “Cattle, you say? I reckon I know some.”

“Tell you what,” Mama said. “Let’s you and me have us a little powwow on the subject after this shindig, all right?” She waved over her shoulder at Mother Dane. “Come along, Magda. Quit lollygagging about. We got us a feed to put on.”

Buddy slipped up behind Charity. “We’d best get started, too, honey. It’s a long way to St. Louis, and that’s after your mama turns us loose.”

Emmy took Charity’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too, just dreadfully. But I have to meet my new in-laws, don’t I?” She patted Emmy’s fingers. “Don’t worry, the month will go by fast and we’ll be home again. We won’t stay a day longer than we planned. Buddy has to get back and help Mama run the oil business.”

Buddy shook his head. “We won’t have that reason to hurry back, sugar.” He put one arm around Lee’s shoulder and the other around Jerry’s. “We’re leaving your mama in capable hands.”

Charity considered their warm, open faces and decided Buddy was right. Not all oilmen were bad, after all.

Buddy nodded at Red. “Now I guess we’ll need someone to keep your old dog in line. Nash, do you mind keeping an eye on that flop-eared critter until we get home?”

Nash grinned all over and tightened his hold on the rope. “Why sure, Mistah Pierce. I’ll be more’n happy to.”

Charity pressed against Buddy and let him take her in his arms. “So, dear husband, how does the idea of raising champion bloodhounds strike you?”

Buddy smiled. “Harder than raising a brood of kids, I’d wager.”

“If they’re all as stubborn as Red, you’ll win that bet,” she said, laughing. “He’s just a big old baby himself.”

At the mention of his name, the dog strained against the rope in Nash’s hand and drew a slow, lazy tongue over Charity’s fingers.

Emmy laughed and pointed. “Look at that. He kissed your hand.”

Charity frowned and pulled a lace hankie from her bodice. “Goodness, he’s forever doing that.”

“Sure he does,” Nash said, leaning to scratch Red between the ears. “This old boy’s a true Southern gentleman. A gentleman gon’ always kiss a lady’s hand.”

Red lowered himself to the ground and stretched his legs out in front. With a contented sigh, he rested his head, letting his big ears puddle in a wad, and closed his droopy eyes.

Nash chuckled. “Least he don’t too much mind sharing Miss Charity. You’re in luck there, Mistah Pierce.”

Buddy frowned. “I guess it wouldn’t matter if I minded some, now, would it?”

When the laughter died down, Charity feigned anger. “You all make me sound like some old bone to be fought over.”

Buddy leaned to kiss her cheek. The way he cupped her head, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck, thrilled Charity to her toes.

“Not just any old bone, little wife,” he whispered. “‘Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh,’ which leaves old Red there out in the cold.”

Charity blushed and pulled away. “Well, at least he’s finally calmed down some. Look at him. Just lying there as meek as a lamb.”

“That’s because his heart be at rest,” Nash said. “He finally caught up to what he been chasing.”

Buddy pulled Charity close again and tilted her face to his, love so evident in his eyes. “I know how you feel, old boy.” He directed his words at Red, but his gaze remained locked on Charity’s face. “I know just how you feel.”

A stiff breeze picked up, gusting over the church grounds, mussing Charity’s hair and flapping her skirts. Unafraid, she raised her face to greet the sheltering wings and welcomed the changing wind.

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MARCIA GRUVER

Marcia is a full-time writer who hails from southeast Texas. Inordinately enamored by the past, she delights in writing historical fiction. Marcia’s deep south-central roots lend a southern comfort style and touch of humor to her writing. Recently awarded a three-book contract by Barbour Publishing, she’s busy these days pounding on the keyboard and watching the deadline clock.

She and her husband, Lee, have one daughter and four sons. Collectively, this motley crew has graced them with ten grandchildren and one great-granddaughter—so far.