CHARITY'S GOLD RUSH (A Strike It Rich in Montana novel) by Cynthia Hickey Page B

baking bread. She’d have to be careful not to burn it. The last thing she wanted to do was sit inside beside the sweltering stove and watch the bread bake . A sod house might be cooler than a log one, but with heat this intense, it didn’t provide much relief.
                  Grabbing the bucket she used to carry drinking water, Charity strolled to the creek, filled it , and headed to where Gabriel and Sam mucked out the barn.
                  Gabe nodded and accepted the dipper of water. “Thank you. I’m parched.” After drinking his fill, he handed the dipper to Sam. “We haven’t had a summer this hot in a long time.”
                  Charity started. Was he actually talking to her? “Hmmm, guess not, but I’ll be glad for cooler weather.”
                  “Not once winter hits , and you’re snowed in. Which doesn’t happen all the time, from what I’ve heard, but enough to make folks cautious. ” He leaned against the rake, his gaze intense. “Sam, check on your sister, please.”
                  “I can see her from her e , Pa. She’s playing with Patches.”
                  “Do as I say, son.”
                  Charity swallowed against the dryness in her throat, and reached for a drink. What had she done now?
                  Gabriel removed his hat . H is hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and he wiped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ve been doing some thinking, Charity.”
                  Uh-oh.
                  “Are you happy here? ” he asked. “ With me and the young’uns?”
                  “Well, i f you’d talk to —”
                  “Hello, the house!”
                  Charity pulled herself away from Gabriel’s gaze. Mr. Stoltz raced up the yard on the back of a brown mule.
                  “Fire! South of your house and moving fast . Me and the m issus could see the smoke from our place. I got here as quick as I could. ”
                  Charity grabbed the bucket and ran for the house. “Sam! Meg! Gather up buckets and blankets.” She’d seen a fire in town once and would never forget the sight of buildings burning, horses screaming, and people fleeing with what little they could carry.
                  “Charity!” Gabriel stopped her. “Have the children help you get everything you can inside the house. Sod doesn’t burn. Then you stay put.”
                  She whirled. “No, I can help you. Even Sam can—”
                  “It’s too dangerous.” He frowned.
                  “You can’t fight a fire alone, Gabriel Williams.” Charity put her hands on her hips. “We can argue about it or we can take action.”
                  Mr. Stoltz slid from his mule’s back and slapped the animal’s rump to send it a safe distance away . “She’s right. I’ll stay and help, but it will be better with three.”
                  “Look at her, Hiram. She’s not much bigger than Sam.”
                  “But I’m strong, Gabriel.” She wouldn’t hide in the house and worry about him. He couldn’t ask her to. She dashed to the line of clean clothes and tossed them in the waiting basket.
                  “Meg, Sam, bring in whatever you can carry. Meg, put Patches inside.” Charity hefted the basket, dropped it inside the door, and then started yanking blankets off the beds. She’d seen men beat at the flames before. She could do that. “Sam, when you’ve finished that, I need every bucket we have filled with water.”
                  By the time she got back outside, Gabriel and Hiram had started digging a trench around the immediate property. Charity sta r ed at the newly framed house. Would all Gabriel’s efforts have been in vain? She hoped