Cupid Valentine (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 11)

by Marlene Bierworth

  Kara aided her mother, hugging her close in the attempt to quiet the shaking that vibrated off her bony figure. In the background, Kara heard Sam Frankford cursing, pacing, and kicking at chairs, throwing whatever item that dared to stand in his way against the wall. Kara did not look behind her but pictured his location in her mind as a protection against a sudden intervention. None came, and the ladies arrived safely inside the bedroom.

  Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, silent tears streaming down her cheeks while she mouthed her continual whisper of warning. Run. That had been her solution every time the tiger roared, and as a child, Kara had obeyed and escaped her father’s wrath. But her mother had not, and this corpse of a woman was all that remained. Arms limply followed Kara’s signals, and soon her clothes lay in a heap on the floor. She slipped a clean nightgown over the woman’s head then tucked her under the covers.

  Kara kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, Mama. Don’t you worry about me.”

  After dimming the lamp, Kara listened at the door. Ingrained in her was the ability to decipher the actions of the man in the other room. He was stoking the fire at present. Not sure if the cupboard was empty of the poison-liquor, Kara debated his next move. His pockets were empty, but she could never predict the generosity and credit allowed at the Cowboy Haven on any given night. Kara glanced at the window. She did not want a confrontation tonight – she wanted to work on Stephen’s coat. Perhaps if Kara escaped to the shop, her father would be passed out by the time she returned home. Perhaps was a big word but one she’d settle for tonight.

  From her mother’s wardrobe, Kara grabbed a worn coat. Her father would not allow his daughter to waste money on sewing his wife a new one. Kara had only agreed because her mother never went outside anymore. Kara wiggled into the wooly covering and wrapped a scarf over her head looping it twice around her neck. The boots were a loose fit, but they’d do. She searched for mitts and found them thrown in the bottom drawer. Clad for a winter walk, she opened the window and climbed out – all the while hating her cowardice.

  By the time Kara reached the shop, she’d put the scene at home behind her. This place always provided a safe haven for her spirit to be renewed. She closed and locked the door. After stirring the ashes in the stove, a promise of heat surfaced amongst the red embers. When a few pieces of dry wood were added, a hot blaze erupted. Pleased, Kara removed her mother’s winter clothes. She lit a lantern to guide her way then proceeded to the sewing room. At the drawing table, she withdrew a clean sheet of paper and began to measure and pencil in her design – two pieces for the front bodice and a larger one for the back, a collar, sleeves, pockets, and few details that Stephen had provided to make this creation his alone.

  While she worked, she sang a hymn of coming to the garden to meet with God and experienced the peace settling within. This room was her garden place, and here she often fled into His presence after an encounter with her father. Only the Lord had the power to still her heart.

  Kara startled. Was someone knocking on the door? Surely not! Most reputable shops had closed for the night. She crept from the room picking her way through the near darkness. At a side window, she peered behind the curtain. It was Stephen.

  Kara hurried to the door and unlocked it. When she faced him a double portion of peace flooded her. It became evident that despite her futile attempts at keeping Stephen Thacker at a distance, her heart had betrayed her, and in doing so, dared to lead her into unfamiliar territory. She’d unwittingly traversed where she’d sworn she’d never allow herself to venture.

  “Stephen, whatever are you doing wandering the streets this time of evening?”

  “I worked late, and on my way home I spotted a light in the backroom. At first, I feared you’d left a lantern on, and then I rejoiced thinking that perhaps you were here.”

  Kara smiled. “I have lots of work to do.”

  “And your mother is well tonight?”

  “Tucked in bed and sleeping like a log.”

  “And your father?”

  Kara inhaled deeply. “Angry and coming off a drunk – or on – one never knows.”

  Stephen examined Kara closely. “Do you escape here often in the evening?”

  “On occasion. Please, come in out of the cold,” Kara said.

  Kara ushered him over to the fire and threw on another log. “Let me hang your coat, that is if you plan to stay?”

  “I’d love to. Thanks for asking.”

  How did that invitation happen? Kara chuckled for she didn’t care how it happened, just that it did. She could not argue that the sight of Stephen Thacker’s face, at the end of this rather long, day, pleased her.

  “Can I offer you a cool drink? I don’t have anything hot brewing on the stove.”

  “I’m fine for now. Ate and drank more than my share at Fran’s Boarding house this evening.”

  “Do you eat there all the time?”

  “Most times, except when a lovely lady agrees to dine with me elsewhere.” Stephen played with her emotions as easily as she changed the color of thread in her needle.

  “I’d like to confirm my response to attending the Valentine’s dance with you if it’s not too late,” Kara said. Stephen appeared to be the only good thing in her life, and she’d be a fool to cast him aside without giving the Cupid angel a chance to hit the mark.

  “Feeling braver tonight?” Stephen asked.

  “Or reckless. It’s a toss-up.”

  “I think I like the reckless look on you.”

  “Suppose we shall see if I survive the coming-out process.”

  “Is that where you see yourself?”

  Kara laughed. “I am twenty-six-years-old, Stephen. Definitely bordering old maid status by western standards.”

  “Nonsense. I’m crowding thirty, so I see your age as a miracle – God saving you until I arrived in town.”

  “Your version sounds romantic.”

  A playful grin toyed at the corner of Stephen’s lips. “Something has happened. You seem different – more open than earlier.”

  “If you call frustrated and fed-up different, then yes, I am.”

  As the fire crackled and exhibited a light show on the walls around them, words ceased, and a comfortable aura surrounded them. When Stephen spoke, Kara startled back from a place of peace.

  “What are your dreams, Kara?” His voice held an intimacy as if he too shared this place of peace she’d discovered.

  Kara studied him before she spoke. His face revealed concern, interest, and something deeper than she’d ever witnessed in a man’s expression while conversing with her. Kara felt safe and loved. But how could that be? They barely knew one another and yet she somehow imagined she’d always known him. Then, like magic – or better yet, a miracle – the eyes to her heart opened, like being given sight after only experiencing blindness. Soothing warmth that did not originate from the fire, but from Stephen’s face, caused her to peel off yet another layer of loneliness.

  “Something has indeed happened, Stephen Thacker. Somehow I find myself at a precipice gazing over a high cliff and wondering if I jump will it bring death or life? Common sense says, of course, I will die, but my insides burn with the freedom to fly and trust there will be a soft cushion of fresh hay to land in.”

  “Or perhaps a man such as myself waiting at the bottom to catch you and carry you off into a new land.”

  Kara appeared mesmerized and spoke as if in a trance. “Where the two shall dwell in perfect love, happily-ever-after.”

  Stephen continued to share his view of the vision, his eyes locked on Kara’s face. “Nothing man-made is ever perfect, but God’s love always is, and a match blessed by Him has the best chance to endure.”

  “And you suppose He is here, at this moment?”

  “I know He is.”

  Stephen leaned in, ever so slowing, his eyes drinking in Kara’s open heart. She knew where his advances were headed, and welcomed it. When his lips brushed hers, it felt like a breeze from hea
ven, and she merged with its force and closed her eyes. Never, in all these years, had a man kissed her like this. And in Stephen’s embrace, her heart knew it had been worth the wait.

  A loud ruckus was developing outside the Made to Order shop. The couple drew apart slowly as if coming back from a dream. Reluctantly their attention was drawn toward the door of her establishment. The knob turned, and a figure stumbled in. Stephen and Kara jumped to their feet. Highlighted by a tiny ray of moonlight from the open door, stood an intruder. He lifted his arm and aimed his gun squarely at them.

  EVERYTHING CHANGES

  “Thought I’d find ya here,” the voice slurred, and Stephen witnessed the fear grow on Kara’s face.

  “Father put down the gun.”

  “I won’t be doing your biddin’ anymore. Your Ma would roll over dead to see ya here alone in the dark with a man.” He roared a strange bitter laugh. “That is if she weren’t already dead in her bed.”

  Kara’s hand went to her throat. “What are you talking about? She’s asleep in her room.”

  “She’s more than asleep. Snuffed the life from her myself.” The gun shook in his hands.

  Kara’s body collapsed, and Stephen reached out to keep her from hitting the wood surface of the floor. He transferred her limp body to the settee then turned again to face the man.

  “Sir, what are your intentions?”

  “Well – suppose I came to talk a deal with the girl, and get the money owing to me from that jar she keeps out back. Seems the lass has been withholding funds from the family who needs it. But now with her Ma gone, and you in the picture, I see she’d never go fer it. Ya know that makes her useless to me. She may as well join her mother in the hereafter. And you, Mister, can ride to the great beyond with her.”

  Someone yelled from outside the open door. “Lower that gun, real slow, Sam. Don’t make me shoot you.” Stephen recognized the voice as Stan Riker, the local Sherriff.

  Kara’s father glanced sideways but never changed the aim of his gun. Stephen played with the idea of reaching for the weapon in his holster and gunning the man down himself. He could easily down him before the drunk had time to pull the trigger. But no – he’d taken a life in the name of love once before, and he’d not do it again. This time, there was the added complication – the fact that this particular drunkard was Kara’s father, and if Stephen wanted to pursue a relationship with her, he did not need his pulling the trigger hanging over them like a dark cloud. He chose to trust that the Sheriff played the stronger hand.

  “This is family business. Ya got no mind to interferin’,” Sam Frankford yelled back.”

  “Killin’ folks and settin’ fires is my business. If ya haven’t lowered the gun in five seconds, Sam, I’m going to blow off your worthless head.”

  The man’s eyes flickered from the scene outside then back inside, where Stephen stood as a willing target between father and daughter. The nature of the encounter revealed to the love-struck man just how prepared he was to sacrifice himself for the vulnerable woman stretched on the settee. He barely knew her, yet love had taken him prisoner. Stephen had no regrets. Cupid had hit the mark, and his arrow had pierced the maiden’s heart. Yet, their discovery of one another might be short-lived.

  Stephen heard Kara’s low moan from behind. At the same time, the blast from the Sherriff’s pistol rang out, and he saw the old man’s eyes bulge in disbelief. In slow motion, Stephen witnessed the old man’s finger squeeze on the trigger of the gun before he dropped to the floor. In the blink of an eye, Stephen ducked and covered Kara with his body. The impact created a pain that stole his breath. His last thoughts were of Kara, with hopes that his heavy bulk would act as a barrier and she would escape unharmed.

  *****

  The shocked squeal that gushed from Kara’s lips was instantly snuffed out by the weight of Stephen’s body collapsing against her. She felt him tense. The thud of a jolt penetrated him, then came the shudder and a long exhale as his body relaxed and lay still.

  Kara wiggled free. The material of her full skirt lodged between his legs, and she heard it rip, as she pulled loose. Strands of tangled hair caught in his ring and Kara bit her lip to avoid screeching aloud the yelp that now stifled inside her throat. Once dislodged, she stood over Stephen’s slumped form. Her scream found release and her shaking hands cupped over her mouth in astonishment. Her gaze flew toward the door where her father lay in a growing pool of blood. The Sherriff entered the room and after a quick scan hurried toward Kara.

  “Miss Frankford, are ya alright?”

  “Yes, but…” Kara was speechless. She pointed to Stephen.

  Stan straightened Stephen’s body on the floor and bent over to assess his condition. “He’s got a strong pulse. Think the bullet lodged not too deep, but he smacked his head on something during the fall. Yeah – he bloodied up the wood on the edge of the table here and knocked himself out cold.” Stan called out loud. “Jed, run for the Doc. The Thacker fella can use some doctorin’.” He glanced back at me. “But it don’t look like your father made it, Missy. Sorry, but I had to pull the trigger. Couldn’t have the man goin’ on a killing spree.”

  “He killed my mother? Did I hear that right?”

  “Afraid so. Then set the house on fire. Got some folks out there trying to keep it from spreading, but your place is beyond saving.”

  Kara sunk onto the settee. “I should never have left the house.”

  “That’s crazy talk! Good thing ya weren’t there or you’d be dead along with your Ma. Granted, things ain’t lookin’ too good tonight, Miss Frankford, but it’ll be brighter come mornin’. You watch and see.”

  Kara knew he meant well by his comforting remark. The Sherriff was a family man and a churchgoer. He maintained law and order with a firm hand, and his reputation boasted of a fair man dedicated to keeping the peace. Livingston did not tolerate the riff-raff that a lot of western towns endured, making it a friendly destination for those wanting to settle in the West.

  Doc hurried inside the shop. He stooped and felt for a pulse on Kara’s father and shook his head. “Too late for this one.” Then he came to Stephen’s side and knelt on the floor beside him. “Got a lantern, Miss Frankford?”

  “Of course.” Kara dashed to the sewing room and came back carrying the lantern. She placed it on the floor beside Stephen.

  It was then she dared to glance at the bloody carcass of her father. She wished she could summon a smidgen of sorrow in seeing him dead, but he’d destroyed any chance of her pity that the first night he staggered home drunk and ordered Kara out of the house to find a job. Eight long years she’d put food on his table and paid for the poison liquor that rotted his gut. No, there would no tears shed for the likes of him. Even as she contemplated the loss of her mother, Kara could not find it in her heart to wish her back among the living. Long before Sam Frankford had smothered the final breath from his wife Marie, the man had managed to kill any spark of life left in the woman. The slow journey of her demise had been a dreary, drawn out process for Kara to watch.

  Kara glanced to the floor where Doc busied himself with Stephen.

  “Hey, Stan. Can ya get the guys to fetch the gurney from my office? I need to remove the bullet and wanna watch over him tonight.”

  Kara stood and moved closer. “Will he be alright?”

  “Bullet didn’t hit any vital parts. Once I get rid that hunk of lead, his body will mend fine.”

  “What about the crack on his skull?” Kara asked.

  “Gonna’ have a nasty bump, but I’m suspecting he’ll be bright as the stars shining out there tonight in no time flat.”

  “That’s good! Can’t have our banker man down fer long,” said Stan now returning from dispatching men to do the doctor’s errand. His boots clomped through the shop, and his spurs jingled – the entire effect sounding like Santa stomping on the rooftop while clanging away on his sleigh bells. How bizarre to think of Christmas while in the room her father lay dead and Stephen injur
ed. This day had been a mixed bag of good and bad, old and new, sadness and rejoicing, hate and love – and ah, yes, love. As she stared at Stephen’s stationary figure, Kara witnessed a dream come true, and the most liberating fact was that she no longer feared it.

  Stephen groaned and shifted position. Doc placed a hand on his chest. “You lie still now. Have you over to the office soon. Fix you up good as new.”

  Kara smiled when she saw his cloudy gaze stop at her. She knelt on the floor and took his hand. “Stephen, please listen to the doctor and get better soon.”

  “You bet,” he mumbled. “You promised me a dance.”

  “I did, at that.”

  He turned his head and stared at Kara’s father sprawled on the floor. Sadness overtook him, and he focused again on Kara. “Are you alright?”

  “I am. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Someone has to.”

  “Not today. My world has come full circle and tomorrow will be soon enough to evaluate the damages.”

  “My brave, Kara,” he said as the men with the gurney appeared.

  “Goodnight, Stephen. I will see you first thing in the morning.” Kara stood to her feet and moved aside so the men could transfer him onto the traveling bed.

  “I’m counting on it.” Within minutes they had him secure and carried Stephen out into the night.

  Kara gaped at the scene that unlocked the prison of her childhood and a cold-hearted thought surfaced – better late than never. Was it cruel to feel relief instead of grief – gain instead of a loss? Was this the unforgiving person she wanted to be? Her old maid status most likely could not have been resolved any other way than through the death of those that gave her birth. Yet, even this irregular truth would not bow to her show of insensitivity.

  A deputy came forward and covered Sam Frankford’s face then spoke. “The gravedigger is on his way fer the body, Miss. Sorry fer yer loss.”

  Kara smiled weakly. “Thank you.”