Chasing Charity by Marcia Gruver Page A

under the counter and slid it toward Charity. Names filled the page from top to bottom on several sheets. “Might be weeks before we can get to you.” He tilted his head toward the window. “The boom, you know.”
    Buddy watched Charity, waiting for her reaction. The news was sure to upset her.
    “Very well.” She took the pen in her gloved hand and scratched her mama’s name on the last line. Following suit with the others, she added the number two and circled it then pushed the book back to the clerk and nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”
    The old man’s gaze swept Buddy. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times before he finally squeezed a question past his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, little miss, but have you found adequate shelter for you and your mama until we’re able to accommodate you?”
    “As a matter of fact, we have. Mama will be staying at Magdalena Dane’s house. I’ve decided on a more sensible arrangement for myself.” She fixed Buddy with a determined glare. “You heard right, Mr. Pierce. I won’t be going back to Mother Dane’s.”
    Before Buddy could react, she walked away. He caught up to her near the door and offered his arm again. She took it, and he swept her through the crowd outside. At the wagon, he helped her swing up onto the seat then watched her until she began to squirm.
    “What are you waiting for?” she asked, looking down at him from the rig. “Let’s go.”
    Buddy blinked. “Fine. Where to?”
    “Home.” She dared him with her eyes and sat up straighter, plucking at the folds of her dress. “I’m going home, and there’s nothing more to be said about it.”
    His mouth dropped open. He closed it fast and swallowed. “I’m sorry, you can’t do that.”
    “Oh, but I can. I declare, Mr. Pierce, you’re forgetting yourself.”
    Buddy hurried around the wagon, swung up beside her, and studied her angry face. “Didn’t your mama tell you?”
    From the look of her, it was clear she’d heard those words before. She leaned toward him, her speech slow and deliberate. “Tell me what?”
    “She leased the house. To the oil company as living quarters for the roughnecks.”
    Thunder boomed overhead and lightning marbled the darkened sky. A quirky wind bore down on them, pushing back Charity’s hat and raising tendrils of black hair to the heavens. Against the angry backdrop, she reminded Buddy of a snake-tressed Medusa.
    “What did you say?” Her eyes narrowed, heightening the illusion. “Just when did she do that?”
    “We worked out the deal last night, while you were ... um ... resting. That’s why I showed up this morning. I knew you’d need a hand with your things.”
    Charity’s gloved fingers clenched and unclenched in her lap, and her chest heaved. “That infuriating old woman. That’s why she let me go so easy.” She whirled on Buddy, balled fists going to her waist. “She can’t do this. It’s my house, too. If she can lease it without telling me, then I can unlease it. You tell that oil company the house is no longer available.” She drew herself tall, obviously pleased with her stand. “That’s right—the deal’s off. Now take me home this instant.”
    Buddy shoved his hat back with his knuckles and scratched his head with his thumb. “That won’t exactly be possible, ma’am.”
    “And why not?”
    “It’s too late. When I left your house this morning, twenty men were eating breakfast at the table.”
    Thunder sounded again, closer this time. Charity leaned toward him once more, staring hard, as if that would help his words sink in. Her big green eyes, so near he could see tiny flecks in them, flooded with tears that spilled over and down her cheeks. When she collapsed against him sobbing, Buddy couldn’t decide whether to comfort her or hide her from prying eyes. He chose the latter.
    Righting her hat, he pulled it low to hide her face then clucked at the horse to pull away from the boardwalk. He scrambled for the reins, fighting