by Verna Clay
She continued looking past him. "Were you at the postal station waiting for me to arrive? If so, that seems a strange thing to do."
"I was. And under normal circumstances I would agree it's very strange. But nothing about you or your request appears to be normal. After you disappeared last night, I was concerned. You should have let me see you home. In good conscience, I felt I had to find you and offer my escort to San Francisco once more. If you tell me no, I'll not bother you again."
For a long moment she was silent and then she closed her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Samson, I accept your offer. I want to leave by the end of the month. The travel time is two weeks, what with changing trains and such." She clutched her hands in her lap and opened her eyes to stare at them. "We never talked about money, but I will give you one hundred dollars on the day we leave, and the remaining two hundred after being deposited at the doorstep of my business."
The talk of payment made Luke uncomfortable. "I have no need of money. You can hold on to it until we reach California."
She glanced up at him with a look of surprise. "If that's what you wish."
Luke had no intention of accepting her money, ever, but he knew if he voiced that fact, she would wonder at his motivation for helping her. Hell, he wondered at his motivation.
He pushed away from the tree when Mrs. St. Clair stood. "Mr. Samson, I should be getting back to my hotel." She glanced up at him and he could see hope shining behind her sad eyes. He wondered what a true smile and laugh would do for her countenance. In that instant he determined that before they permanently parted ways, he would make her laugh freely just so he could glimpse the woman hidden beneath layers of hurt.
He smiled, "Let me escort you home." Before she could object, he walked past her and whistled for one of the carriages waiting near the park. He helped her inside and asked the name of her hotel. After a moment's hesitation she told him. Relaying the information to the driver, he entered the coach and sat in the seat opposite her.
"You really don't need to accompany me to my hotel, Mr. Samson."
Ignoring her protest, he closed the door. "At the risk of sounding forward, and given our business arrangement, I wouldn't mind if you called me Luke."
She turned to stare out the window. "Okay, I'll call you Luke."
"May I call you Angel?"
"If you so desire."
He tapped the top of the coach and it lurched forward. Hoping to learn more about this unusual woman, he asked, "How is it that you were named Angel? I've never met anyone with that name."
A soft look passed across her face. "My mother told me that as a child, she was very ill and wasn't expected to live. She said she remembered having a high fever and hearing the doctor say, 'It won't be much longer.' When she looked past him, she saw a beautiful being with wings. She said she remembered using all of her strength to point and say, 'Angel,' and the wonderful creature gave her a heavenly smile before fading away. After that, her fever broke and she made a miraculous recovery." Angel turned angelic eyes on Luke and continued barely above a whisper, "When I was born, she said I looked like that angel."
Luke sat immobilized by her gaze and her words and had a sudden inclination to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to his heart. Instead, he looked out his own window, composing his thoughts. "That's a beautiful story, Angel."
They traveled the rest of the way in silence. When the driver pulled in front of the hotel, Luke scowled. It was shabby and in a shady part of town. "How long have you been staying at this hotel?"
"Two months while I tried to find someone to accompany me to California."
"What were you going to do if you didn't find someone suitable?" The driver opened the door, but Luke didn't make a move to step out.
"Honestly, Mr. Samson, er Luke, I do not know. I suppose I would have garnered my courage and traveled on by myself." She hesitated. "I will be frank with you, sir. I have emotional scars that keep me indoors most of the time. I find it difficult to appear in public. Are you sure you still want to accompany me?"
Without hesitation, he replied, "Absolutely," and stepped from the coach to help her down, walking her into the foyer of the hotel.
Turning around, she politely thanked him again, but before she walked toward the stairs, he asked, "May I escort you to dinner this evening so we can talk about our plans?"
"I fear this evening will not work for me." She inhaled and then confided, "I need time to recover from my scare today. I realize that most women would put the unsavory event behind them and forget it; however, I am not like most women. As I said, I have emotional trauma I have yet to overcome."
"Then tomorrow may I escort you to dinner?"
She studied the carpet and then looked up. "Yes, that would be appropriate. You may pick me up at six o'clock."
She walked past him to the stairs. Softly he said, "Goodbye, Angel."
She paused and said without turning around, "Goodbye, Luke."
* * *
Angel entered her room and promptly pulled the chamber pot out from under the bed and threw up. After taking the pot to the shared second story water closet and emptying and rinsing it, she returned to her room and collapsed across her bed. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to what always happened when she was accosted, she slept and dreamed nightmares. However, this time the nightmares ended with a young cowboy speaking comforting words. He could not rescue her from previous traumas, but even so, his kind words were greater than her terror. After night had fallen she awoke with a sense of peace.
Rising to visit the water closet again to relieve herself, she returned to her room and splashed water on her face before letting her hair down and absentmindedly brushing it. The fact that lingering panic after the encounter with the unsavory men wasn't haunting her was astounding. Walking to the window, she pulled the curtain aside just enough to peer at a full moon and wished she were in a meadow dancing freely, like she had done as a child before her father died, and her life changed forever. Images of her beautiful mother flashed before her eyes and she smiled, remembering how her mother had loved and cherished her father, always kissing him and whispering sweet words in his ear.
A cloud passed in front of the moon and blocked its light, just like her father's death had removed the light from her mother's eyes. Angel squeezed her eyes tight, trying to block the vision of her mother shortly after marriage to her stepfather. The beautiful, laughing woman was gone, replaced by someone who only resembled her mother. Within a year, her mother was dead. The doctor said it was from a weakened constitution. Angel knew she had died of a broken spirit.
"Is that also my fate—to die of a broken spirit," she whispered to the man-in-the-moon. Inhaling a shaky breath, she returned to her bed and closed her eyes, willing her mind to remain blank and not conjure up any more memories.
Chapter Seven: The Best Laid Plans…
At fifteen minutes to six, Luke was in the foyer of the shabby hotel waiting for Angel. At exactly six o'clock she entered the room. His lungs couldn't seem to inhale enough oxygen when he saw her. Dressed in a simple gray dress with matching hat and gloves, she was more elegant than the most elaborately dressed and pampered socialite of his acquaintance. She was simply stunning and he watched every head in the room, male and female, turn to stare at her. She seemed oblivious to the attention.
With a slight smile, she said, "Good evening, Mr. Samson."
He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.
"Excuse me, I mean Luke," she corrected her address of him.
"Good evening to you, too, Angel. I hope you're hungry, because I intend to order a huge meal tonight."
Her small smile became a little bigger. "Yes. Very hungry."
He offered his elbow and after a moment's pause, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm to be escorted to the carriage he had waiting outside.
When they exited at one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, Angel gave him a questioning look.
"This is another of my
favorite places to eat."
The maitre d' led them to a secluded table. After they had perused their menus, ordered, and were sipping wine, Luke leaned back and asked conversationally, "How was your day, Angel?"
She set her wine glass down. "Very much like every other day. How was yours?"
He laughed, "About the same. With conversation like this, we won't get very well acquainted."
Angel glanced past him. "I am not interested in becoming acquainted. I simply want to travel to my business establishment and resume my life."
Luke drummed his fingers on the table frustrated by the woman's secrecy. Perhaps if he couldn't get her to talk about herself, he could get her to talk about her business. "Please tell me more about your business. You mentioned it's a bakery. You must love to bake to have purchased it." Even to his own ears, his attempt at conversation sounded lame. However, he noticed a spark in Angel's eyes.
"I do love to bake."
He quickly pursued her response. "What's your specialty?"
"Breads, pies, pastries. Cakes give me problems. I haven't mastered them yet."
The light in her eyes shined brighter and Luke found himself in awe of the change in her countenance—like a match had suddenly been struck in a dark room. He leaned across the table and said seriously, "Please tell me one of your specialties is apple pie."
A tiny quirk at the corner of Angel's mouth turned into a full smile. When she lifted her hand to her mouth to laugh behind it, Luke was lost to the beautiful sound.
"That is my specialty. I've actually come up with a secret recipe that I was offered a large sum of money for. But I would never sell that secret."
Luke sat back and chuckled. "Perhaps I can persuade you to make one of those pies for me someday. In fact, I would pay you handsomely for it. That's how much I love apple pie."
Angel glanced at the table and turned a lovely pink at his attention.
The waiter brought their meal and conversation ceased for the time being. Luke noticed that Angel had a hearty appetite and wondered again how often she was eating. The thought that she might be going hungry, for whatever reason, twisted his heart. When they were almost finished with dinner, he said, "You told me that you wanted to leave in two weeks. If that's the case, I think we should marry within the week, and since finances are not a concern of mine, I will move you to a more appropriate hotel."
Angel's fork clanked onto her plate and her startled look made him realize she had read more into his words than he had intended. Quickly, he amended, "I will remain at my own hotel. I wasn't suggesting anything other than wanting you to have a safer location."
Slowly, she lifted her eyes from her plate to stare into his. "Why are you doing this? Why do you care?"
Without wavering in his return stare, he said, "Only because I want to help an angel in need."
She blinked and picked up her fork.
Luke pressed his advantage. "I don't want anything from you. It appears that you have been abused in your life and I simply want to show you that not everyone is like that. I was raised in a loving family and caring community."
Angel laid her fork back on her plate and turned glistening eyes to his. She spoke so quietly he almost didn't hear her. "Thank you, Luke, but I'm not worth the trouble. I will remain at my hotel until we leave. We can marry the day before. I have a copy of a contract I had drawn up by an attorney before I ran the advertisement. I'm sure you'll want to read it before entering into this arrangement. If it's satisfactory to you, I will meet you at my hotel at ten o'clock next Friday so we can marry at the courthouse. On Saturday, we'll leave on the morning train. As you can see, I have planned this to the last detail. I thank you for the kindness you have shown me, but I assure you, it is misplaced. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to leave."
Luke assessed Angel and decided to forego disagreeing with her—for the time being. Lifting his hand, he beckoned the waiter over and asked for the check.
* * *
By Tuesday of the week they were supposed to meet, Luke was still stewing over the fact that Angel was in a shabby hotel in a rowdy section of town. He wanted her out of there, but he knew with everything in him that if he pressed she would back out of their agreement. It was while he was feeling frustrated and pacing his suite that there was a knock on his door. He opened it to a steward delivering an envelope on a tray. "Sir, this just came for you by courier."
Furrowing his brow, he lifted the post, tipped the steward enough silver to make him grin, and ripped the envelope open. He recognized his stepmother's stationary.
Luke,
I am writing because I know you would want to know what has happened. Your father has had an accident. While working on some fence repairs, some of the herd got spooked and he was trampled. He has several broken bones and Doc says he will be laid up for quite some time. As I'm sure you are aware, your father did not want me to write to you about this, but I feel honor bound to let you know. Of course, our neighbors have rallied together and are helping us so there is no need for you to make a trip back here. In closing, I will let you know that Brant is as determined as ever to be up and around soon and I take that as a good sign, even though he tries my patience at times. Please do not worry. Your brothers have surprised me by showing much maturity throughout this ordeal and are a great help to your pa and I.
—Ma Abby
Luke set the letter on a table and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd pass through hell to get back to his family in their time of need. He blew a breath. Now what about Angel?
* * *
Angel had stayed holed up in her room the four days since her dinner with Luke and only left to visit the water closet or venture to the tiny dining room to order a tray of tasteless food delivered to her room once a day.
Sitting beside her window, she watched activity in the town below. A woman on the boardwalk across the street held her fascination when she lifted a toddler into her arms and entered the general store. Visions of Angel's own child paraded across her memory. A knock on her door startled her, but also offered relief by pushing memories back into the hidden places of her mind.
She walked to the door and asked, "Who is it?"
"It's Mabel, ma'am; the cleaning maid. The desk sent me up to let you know there's a gentleman downstairs to see you. Says his name is Luke Samson."
"Umm, thank you. Please tell him I'll be right down."
"Yes, ma'am."
Angel's heart raced. The only reason she could think that would account for his presence was that he had read the contract and decided to decline the agreement. Tears pricked her eyes as she composed herself.
After redoing her hair and smoothing her dress, she walked down the shabby hallway and descended the stairs. She saw Luke standing, hat in hand, in the worn foyer. He stepped forward to greet her at the bottom of the stairs.
"Good afternoon, Angel."
"The same to you, Luke."
"I'd like to speak privately with you for a moment, if I may."
"There's a small parlor. Perhaps it's empty. Please follow me."
The parlor was, indeed, empty, and Luke followed her into the room and shut the door, motioning for her to sit. When she did, he sat in the chair across from her. Not wanting to prolong the moment, she said, "I appreciate that you have reconsidered, Luke, and I want you to know I hold no ill feelings toward you."
Luke's expression looked puzzled. "Excuse me?"
"You have come to decline our arrangement, have you not?"
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "No, Angel, I have not. I've come to ask you to marry me tomorrow."
Angel gasped and placed a hand against her heart.
He continued, "Please let me explain."
She inclined her head.
"I've just received word that my father has had an accident and suffered severe injuries. I cannot leave on a long journey without checking on my family. You told me that you are not expected in San Francisco for two months. Because the trip only
takes two weeks, there is sufficient time for us to marry and for you to accompany me to Two Rivers while I visit my family. My mother says that neighbors are pitching in, and although my father has a couple of ranch hands, I want to hire more help until he recovers."
When Angel started to protest, Luke raised his hand to quiet her. "Please, let me finish. I also own a ranch in Two Rivers. I have caretakers who live there and manage my property while I'm away. The house is not huge, but it's spacious enough. You would have your own room and privacy. We could stay there for two to three weeks and then proceed on to California. The reason I'm offering this is because I don't want to leave you in this hotel. It's not safe and it would probably do you good to get some country air." He ended with, "I have no ulterior motive, Angel. I simply must visit my family and rather than make a trip back here to retrieve you, we could leave for California from Bingham. The rails have recently made it to that city."
Angel studied her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I'm sorry to hear about your father and I understand. I would do the same for my father if he were still living."
Luke asked quietly, "Will you marry me tomorrow and come to Two Rivers with me?"
Angel's heart raced at the thought of marrying Luke so soon. However, the opportunity to spend time in the country sounded wonderful. Just being away from this distasteful hotel that had been her home for far too long was enticing, and she could see in Luke's eyes that he spoke the truth. Of course, she had been fooled before. Before she could change her mind, she said, "Okay. I agree. But I want our new terms in writing. You can add it into the contract."
Solemnly, Luke nodded. "I'll arrange for our marriage to take place tomorrow morning and then we'll leave by rail for Bingham and then by coach to Two Rivers."
Chapter Eight: Vows
At the last minute, Angel changed her mind about what to wear for her wedding. She had not intended to dress fancy, but she reached for her prettiest dress anyway, a pale pink worsted linen day dress. Refusing to dwell on why she had changed her mind, she brushed her hair into an upsweep and then perched a pink velvet petite hat, decorated with pink bows, over the topknot. The tiny hat revealed more of her black tresses than usual, but it was the one that looked best with her dress.