Restless Heart

by Beth Williamson

  Sam pointed at the two women. “Stay here and keep everyone in the restaurant safe. Use Pieter’s rifle to protect yourselves.”

  Both of them rose, their backs straight and their faces set. They looked like female warriors, ready to do battle for those they loved. He wouldn’t have chosen anyone different to keep the rest of the group safe while he dealt with the sons of bitches who’d dared shoot up his town, his family.

  Booth stood up, bloodied but alive. Sam was glad to see the sheriff still kicking after the beating he took.

  “Make sure that son of a bitch gets tied up.” Sam resisted the urge to punch the bastard again.

  Booth nodded and walked toward the unconscious stranger. Sam knew the man would be secured and in the jail before long. Now, it was time to go on the hunt.

  Before he stepped outside, Sam grabbed up the gunslinger’s weapons. He had no compunction about killing Josiah, not only for Jessup’s murder but for the abuse Angeline and Lettie had suffered. Sam would protect his own.

  He heard footsteps behind him and glanced back to see Angeline running toward him, her dress spattered with blood. His heart hiccupped at the sight. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going with you.” Her jaw was tight and her chin set.

  “No, you’re not.” Sam refused to allow his wife to put herself into danger again.

  “Yes, I am. That’s my father and my, um, former husband. I am tired of running, tired of hiding. I want this done with, now.” She marched down the street, leaving Sam to catch up.

  He grabbed her arm, stopping her with more force than he expected. “Angel, there’s likely to be guns involved. I don’t want to be a widower just yet.”

  “Men of the LDS church do not carry guns.”

  Sam’s anger surged again. “No, they just hire a gunslinger to do their killing for them.” He held up the pistols for her to see. There was no visible blood on the barrel, but he saw it just the same. He carried the instrument of Jessup’s death in his hand. It made him want to puke.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Her chin trembled, but her back remained straight as a rod.

  He blew out a frustrated sigh. “This gun in my hand killed a member of my family, a man who was my friend. I don’t plan on letting the men responsible just walk out of this town. I can’t.”

  “Men of the LDS church don’t walk either, especially elders.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she said. “They’ll probably have a wagon or carriage.”

  “The livery.” Sam started running, futilely hoping Angeline couldn’t keep up. He’d meant what he’d told her—he didn’t want to be responsible for her death, too. This wasn’t vengeance as much as it was justice. He didn’t believe killing the man who’d killed Jessup would solve anything, but he was damn sure not going to sit idly by and let the man escape who had orchestrated the entire thing.

  He heard footsteps right behind him and realized not only hadn’t she gone back to the restaurant, but she was fast enough to keep up with him. Granted, he had a leg that didn’t work so well but sheer rage drove him to ignore any pain.

  In the distance, he heard Booth calling him, but Sam had no intentions of slowing down for anyone. Angeline stayed behind him the entire way to the livery. They were only minutes behind the two older men. Sam had no doubt he’d arrive in time to stop the old bastards. He’d run after a damn carriage if he had to.

  The door was wide open, which meant someone was inside. Sam burst in, his heart thumping like a horse and his breath coming in gasps. Splinters lodged in his shoulders as he pushed the inner door open.

  The two older men in black were apparently trying to put the traces on the team themselves. Neither one of them seemed to know what they were doing. When Sam burst in, he saw anger in the one man’s gaze and a glimmer of fear in the other one’s face. The thin, angry one was Josiah. His face was covered in welts and scratches—obviously, Lettie had gotten good swipes in before he’d thrown her off.

  Behind him, Angeline gulped in air as she stepped up beside him. Her presence actually gave him a boost of strength he didn’t expect.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Sam snarled.

  “We are leaving this God-forsaken town.” The man Sam assumed was Angeline’s father spoke as if Forestville was beneath notice.

  “Father, why are you here?” Angeline’s voice was breathy but steady.

  “I thought to show you the error of your ways. To bring God back into your soul, but I am too late. From now on, I do not acknowledge you as my daughter. You are dead to me, dead to my church. I am ashamed to even be here.”

  Sam winced inwardly as Mr. Hunter verbally tore apart his daughter.

  “Then why are you here?” she repeated as she walked toward him, an avenging angel in a bloody dress.

  “I had to see for myself just what a whore you’ve become.”

  Sam growled and surged forward, but Angeline stayed his hand by putting her body between them.

  “You are the one who should be ashamed. You made me into a whore—his whore.” She pointed at the thin man. “The man who used pain and humiliation and perversion each day to bring himself pleasure.”

  Josiah’s face flushed red, and he shook with what Sam assumed was rage.

  Mr. Hunter glanced at him with a narrowed gaze. “You lie, Angeline. This man is beyond reproach, a humble man of God who was saddled with wives who disobeyed him.” Mr. Hunter turned his back on Angeline.

  Sam heard her breath catch, but she didn’t move, didn’t back away from the man who had been her father.

  “He is a sadistic, cruel man, and I wish he’d been the one to die back there.” Her voice was full of pure hate.

  Josiah had yet to say a word, but Sam could see he was itching to. Angeline walked toward the man who had called himself her husband, and Sam knew his fear over her being hurt was more than real.

  “I want you to leave here and never come back,” she said, her voice hard. “Do you hear me? Don’t send any more gunslingers or killers either.” She pointed a shaking finger at him. “You will burn in hell for what you’ve done, but I refuse to allow you another moment in my life. I refuse.”

  The man’s smile was feral as he witnessed her brave words. Sam was proud of her, but he was still afraid something would happen. She was so small, and she had a babe in her belly. Sam would go loco if anything happened to either of them.

  “You are my wife and will always be my wife.” He grabbed her so quickly Sam was surprised. Josiah wrapped his hand around her hair and yanked, bringing her to her knees. “Now you’re not so brave now, are you little one?”

  “Let her go.” Sam didn’t recognize his own voice as he raised the pistol to point it at the man who dared threaten his wife. His thumb landed on the hammer and cocked it. Blood thumped through his veins and he felt the strength of generations of warriors in his blood. He could not, would not fail his wife.

  Josiah’s grin widened. “Oh, no, I never plan on letting this one go. She’s perfect for my needs, and she’s already my wife in the eyes of God.”

  “You are an abomination in the eyes of God.” Sam pulled the hammer back. “Now, let her go, or I will put a new hole in your head. You will not hurt my wife.”

  Angeline, however, had more than her share of surprises. She twisted one way then the other, and suddenly, she was free of the man’s grasp. She scuttled away from him, hissing like a cat. When she got to the stall wall, she got to her feet, unbroken and undefeated. She was a warrior at heart.

  “You may never touch me again. Do you hear me, Josiah? You have no right. I’ve taken control of my life and my future, and you have no place in it.”

  Sam didn’t lower the gun because he could see Josiah wasn’t done yet. The older man had the look of a snake, one who would allow his prey some room to fight but not escape.

  “I have every right. You are my wife, and you will obey.” Josiah circled around her, and she backed away from him. “God has commanded you to be
mine.”

  “God did not command me.” Angeline glanced at her father. “My father did.” Mr. Hunter did nothing but keep his back turned to her.

  “Be that as it may, you cannot change the past. And your young handsome man can’t either.”

  Sam knew something was going to happen. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight and tall. He felt a whisper near his ear that sounded like “gun”. In a flash, he understood that while the LDS elders didn’t carry guns, Josiah was armed.

  The older man brought the weapon out from beneath his coat, but instead of aiming at Sam, he aimed it at Angeline. A horse neighed, an old gelding in the stall behind her, momentarily distracting Josiah. A shot split the air, and Sam screamed her name. Yet it wasn’t she who fell to her knees, Josiah did.

  A neatly sized hole appeared in his forehead, and he pitched forward into the hay. Sam looked behind him to see Jonathan Morton with a smoking pistol in his hand. Sam couldn’t help but stare. Jonathan had gotten cleaned up in the months since he’d been gone, and his eyes were focused and clear.

  “Jonathan.” Angeline stared at her old beau with astonishment. “You killed him.”

  “You killed him!” Mr. Hunter picked that moment to start ranting. “Jonathan Aloysius Morton! Your soul will burn in hell for the crime of murder. You have committed a cardinal sin.”

  Jonathan leveled the gun at the older man. “I can always make that two sins.”

  Mr. Hunter held up his hands and looked to Angeline—as if she would help him because he was outnumbered and in trouble. “Daughter, tell your young man he cannot threaten me.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not your daughter any longer, remember? I’m dead to you. Jonathan is not my young man, and it appears he’s not concerned about the LDS church any longer.” She stepped toward Jonathan. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  When she kissed his cheek, the young man closed his eyes for only a second, but Sam saw the longing in his gaze. The kid was still in love with Angeline, but he was too late. She was Mrs. Carver now and always.

  “You’re welcome.” Jonathan frowned at Angeline’s father. “As for you Silas, what are you going to tell the folks back in Tolson? That you sold your daughter to him, or that you brought a hired killer to bring back her body?”

  Mr. Hunter paled. “You would not tell them that.”

  “Oh yes, I would,” Jonathan said, giving the elderly man a deadly glare. “You will simply tell them Josiah died from a snake bite, and you could not find Angeline. But you heard a tale she had died in a carriage accident going to visit a sick relative.” Jonathan grinned at Angeline. “She was always such an angel to everyone.”

  “Thank you.” Sam held out his hand, and to his surprise, Jonathan shook it.

  “I did it for her, not for you. There’s no force on earth that could make me save your life.”

  At least the kid was honest. Sam had no doubt he’d like another crack at kicking his ass.

  Jonathan straightened his shoulders. “I’ll go back to Tolson with Silas and make sure he tells everyone the right tale. I think my mission is finally done, and perhaps God has a new path for me to follow.”

  “Good luck, Jonathan.” Angeline turned to look at her father. “Goodbye to you, Mr. Hunter. I wish you good journey.”

  She turned to the stall of the horse that had helped to save her life. “And thank you, old friend.” She nuzzled the horse’s neck, and Sam understood there was a deep bond between them.

  Like a true lady, she walked to Sam’s side and took his arm, and then together they left the barn. Beneath the warrior’s exterior, the bloody wedding dress and the bruised cheek, she was trembling. Sam felt the same way and couldn’t wait to put all of this darkness behind them. First though, he had to bury his friend.

  Angeline went back into the restaurant and found Karen scrubbing the floor. She couldn’t bear to look at the blood stain yet, so she walked quickly to the kitchen to find Lettie.

  She found her beating the dough so hard that she thought it might rise to a foot high. Lettie looked up at her when she walked in the door.

  “Josiah’s dead.”

  Lettie cried out softly and sank to the floor, her arms wrapped around herself. Angeline rushed over and crouched beside her.

  “He and my father were trying to leave, to run like cowards. Sam and I tried to stop them, and although Josiah tried to force me to go, I wouldn’t allow it.” Angeline tried to tell the story without reliving every intense moment, but it was so hard to detach herself from the tale. “Josiah was about to shoot me when Jonathan killed him.”

  Lettie’s head jerked up at that, and she stared hard at Angeline. “Jonathan?”

  “Believe it or not. He appeared to have come to terms with my choice and discovered his own free will. If he hadn’t shot Josiah, I’d be dead right now.” Angeline began shaking as the reality of what happened sank in. She had come close to death again, and this time it was much more personal. The man who had been her husband had tried to kill her, and not only her but also her unborn child.

  Lettie put her arm around Angeline’s shaking shoulders and pulled her close. They sat beneath the counter, giving each other strength, coming to terms with what was truly an end to the dark times. The man who had hurt them both, who had hunted them, was dead.

  They were truly free.

  Sam walked back toward the lake after visiting the cemetery. He missed Jessup, who was now buried next to Michael Carver. It was a fitting resting place for the two men who had been so important to him.

  It had been a week since the old man’s death, and they were moving into the new house that day. Sam arrived back at the house just as a wagon pulled up outside, covered in a huge tarp. He frowned, wondering who or what was in there.

  A driver jumped down and hailed him. “You there! Are you Samuel Carver?”

  “Yes, I am.” Sam walked toward the wagon, more than curious.

  “I got a delivery for you.” The man was a typical driver with a mouth full of chaw and a layer of dirt from driving a team across dusty ground. He could have been twenty or forty—there was no way to tell.

  “What is it?”

  “I dunno. I didn’t look ’neath the tarp. I just brought the wagon here.” The man started untying the ropes.

  “Are you saying the entire wagon is the delivery?” Sam gaped at the enormous pile.

  “Ayup.” He finished one side of the wagon then yanked the tarp over to the right side.

  “What’s going on, Sam?” Angeline stepped out on the front porch, a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

  “I think maybe Aunt Jane has sent us a gift for our house.” No doubt his effusive aunt thought they could use something or a lot of somethings.

  “What is it?”

  Sam jumped up and started untying the burlap sacks and ropes on the back of the wagon. As he untied everything, he found furniture, including a sofa, a table and chairs, a wingback chair, rugs, and even a kitchen stool.

  “I think she’s furnishing our entire house.” He couldn’t believe the number of items on the wagon. The thing that made him pause was the fact the furniture was all handmade, and it was all exactly what he would have picked.

  Jane had gone to a great deal of trouble to give them a gift just right for their new home. He should send it back, but he knew she’d meant it as a gift of love. He grinned at Angeline as she gaped at the pile.

  “Makes your new rocking chair look small, doesn’t it?”

  Angeline laughed. “What was she thinking? There’s so much here.”

  “I think she wanted to make sure we felt at home.” Sam jumped down and pulled her into a hug. “You know, I think we’re going to need help with all this.”

  Angeline grinned. “I think you’re right.”

  She walked into town and asked for help from folks, and soon, a small army arrived, including almost everyone from The Blue Plate as well as the sheriff. Like a team of folks who were used to working
together, they unloaded the furniture.

  Angeline directed the placement of each piece while the rest kept bringing more in. Soon the house was full with an amazing array of beautiful furniture. Sam looked around with wonder at how the empty house was now a home.

  “It’s all so beautiful.” Angeline smiled at him. “We’ll need to send a wire to Jane to say thank you.”

  “Mr. Carver,” the driver called from outside. “I got one more package for you.”

  “Go on,” Angeline said, waving Sam away. “I’m going to get some cold water and cornbread for our helpers.” She went into the kitchen and left Sam to deal with whatever else Jane had sent.

  Sam stepped back outside and found the scruffy driver waiting for him at the door. The man handed him a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine.

  An hour later, he watched as Angeline walked around the house, touching each piece of furniture with amazement. He should have expected something extravagant from Jane, but this went beyond anything he could have imagined. It was so much all at once.

  Everyone had gone home, and instead of the house feeling empty, it felt warm and cozy. She picked up her new black and brass kindling bucket and headed toward the door.

  Sam stopped her from leaving the house.

  She frowned at him and set down the bucket. “What is it?”

  “Sit down, Angel, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  He led her to the kitchen table and sat down. It wasn’t bad news, but he wanted her to be sitting when he told her what he knew.

  “Coffee?” She wiped her hands and headed for the stove.

  “No, please, just sit.” He set the papers in the middle of the table. “When we were in Denver in August, I asked Jane for a favor. Since I found my family, I wanted to give you the same gift and find your sister.”

  Angeline’s face drained of color as she sank into the chair. “What are you saying?”