by Verna Clay
With Angel close by his side they crossed the almost deserted hard packed road to the boardwalk across the street. At the end of the first block one of the grimy cowboys from the train suddenly stepped out of the shadows of the side street. Waving a large pistol, he said, "Now what's the hurry, little lady? You ain't fraid o' me and my pardner, are ya?" The other man stepped into sight.
Luke said calmly, "Why don't you two visit the saloon. There're plenty of pretty ladies there. My wife and I don't want any trouble."
"Oh, you're wrong. Ain't no whores as purdy as this one. When Nick and I seen her we just knew we had ta get some o' her. So's if you wants ta live, you'd best step aside, let us have some fun, and then she's all yers agin and nobody gits hurt."
"Mmm." Luke made a sound like he was considering their request. Without removing his eyes from the cowboys, he said, "Angel, what do you think? Do you want to take on both of these blokes?" Luke heard her gasp and continued, "I've got a better idea. Why don't the three of us have some fun? I'll even let you boys go first." Angel whimpered and when the cowboy holding the gun glanced at her with a lecherous expression, Luke slung one suitcase at the man's crotch and the other at his hand holding the gun. The gun fired into the air and Luke pulled his derringer from his waistband at the same time he stepped protectively in front of Angel. The slimy cowboy yelled in pain and when he dropped his gun to grab his privates, Luke kicked the weapon out of his reach. Training his derringer on the other cowboy, he said, "It may be small, but I guarantee the bullet hurts like hell. Com'on, make a move so I can shoot your sorry ass."
"Hey, mister, we was just funnin'," said the cowboy who wasn't holding his privates.
"Unfasten your gun belt and drop it."
"Sure. Sure." The weasel reached and unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the ground with his gun still holstered.
"Kick it over."
He obeyed.
"Angel, pick the guns up and hand them to me."
Luke expected her to balk, but she was a trooper and quickly retrieved the loose one and pulled the other one out of its holster. He grinned, accepted both of them, and handed her the derringer. "Now, boys, I'm what you call ambidextrous."
The men looked confused.
That means my left hand works just like my right hand. I can shoot just as well with either. Now we're gonna mosey on down the street, you in front of me, until I tell you to stop." The men stared at him dumbfounded.
Luke said to Angel, "Push the suitcases against the building. We'll come back for them."
Angel did as he asked.
"Thanks, darlin'." Luke motioned the men forward. "GO!" They cursed and started down the boardwalk. At the next street Luke instructed, "Turn right and just keep walking."
The cowboys mumbled and shuffled their feet so Luke stuck the muzzle of a gun in each of their backs to remind them he meant business. After a few more streets, they ended up in front of the sheriff's office.
Luke kicked a boot against the door and yelled, "Sheriff Yates, I got some good ol' boys who need to spend time reconsidering their ways."
The light inside the building went out and the curtain moved. A second later the light came back up, the door opened, and the tip of a Smith and Wesson was followed by a tower of a man. Luke heard one of the cowboys say, "Oh, shit."
The giant said to Luke, "Howdy, half-pint. Good to see ya. Looks like you been busy tonight. What cha got goin'?"
"Hello, Sheriff. Good to see you, too. These idiots are just beggin' for you to teach them manners around ladies."
The sheriff scowled, "One thing I hate is disrespectful ruffians." He grabbed both men by their collars and hauled them inside the building. "Get your asses in here."
Luke nodded for Angel to precede him inside. Setting the guns on the desk, he turned anxious eyes on her. Although she looked pale, it didn't appear that she was going to faint or anything. She handed him his derringer and inhaled a shaky breath. "Thank you," she whispered.
He laughed low. "See Angel, I'm the right man for the job. I'll get you to San Francisco."
A faint smile tilted her mouth and she glanced toward the door the sheriff had hustled the cowpokes into. Sheriff Yates came back into the room and laughed. "I'll take right good care of them boys. Won't let them out of the hoosegow until you're gone. How many days do you want them locked up?"
"Three would be nice, five even better."
The sheriff glanced curiously at Angel and turned scarlet. "Howdy ma'am. Sorry you were accosted. I been sheriff here for twenty years and I don't allow stuff like that in my town."
Luke said, "Sheriff, I'd like to introduce Angel Samson, my wife."
A big grin spread across the sheriff's face. "Well, congratulations, boy!" He pumped Luke's hand. "And congratulations to you, too, ma'am."
Angel murmured a thank you and Luke said, "Guess we best be going. Thanks for taking care of those shit-hea…" He glanced at Angel and winced. "Sorry. Didn't mean to say that in front of you."
* * *
Angel thanked the sheriff again and then followed Luke back to where they had left their suitcases. Fortunately, he was able to hail a carriage to drive them to a well kept hotel. At the desk, he requested the best suite and ordered a large supper brought to their room. He turned to Angel, "Is steak and all the trimmings okay with you?"
"Perfectly okay." Exhaustion was starting to overpower Angel and she longed for a bath. Before they followed the boy the hotel clerk had summoned to transport their baggage, Luke said to the clerk, "After supper is served, please have hot water brought up for my wife to bathe."
Angel almost couldn't stop herself from kissing Luke's cheek. First, he'd saved her from those hooligans, and now he'd ordered dinner and a bath. She gave him a grateful smile.
Within a half hour, food was delivered to their suite of two bedrooms and a sitting room. The heavenly aroma made Angel's stomach growl and she didn't hesitate when Luke invited her to sit and dine. They ate most of the meal in exhausted silence. When they started on their pecan pie, Angel said timidly, "I'd like to thank you for placing yourself in danger tonight and for this wonderful hotel and dinner." She smiled shyly. "And also for the bath."
Luke leaned back in his chair. "No thanks necessary."
"I feel I should reimburse you for this expense."
There was a knock on the door and Luke said, "That's probably water for your bath. As for reimbursement, I'll have none of that. I'm an investor in this hotel." He opened the door and two teenage boys pushed carts with pails of water into the room and asked which bedroom to deliver it to. After the tub was full, Luke handed each of the boys a tip that put big smiles on their faces.
Angel peered up at Luke from beneath her lashes. "I Guess I'll go bathe. Goodnight, Luke."
"See you in the morning, Angel."
* * *
After Angel left the room, there was another knock and Luke opened the door to the maid. She cleared the dishes and he tipped and thanked her generously. If there was one thing he had learned in all of his travels, it was to always treat hotel help kindly—it made for a pleasant stay and got him extra favors. Besides that, he knew most of the employees were just simple folk trying to make a living to support their families.
Kicking back on the settee, he leaned his head against the cushion and gave in to fatigue and worry. The worry was more troublesome than the fatigue. How was his father doing? Closing his eyes he envisioned his strong, capable father and remembered the time after his mother's death when he and Jenny had been taken out of school—Jenny to care for Ty, and him to help his father on the ranch. Times had been tough and his attitude hadn't helped matters. For months, he had been sullen and uncooperative. After his father had married Abby, his attitude had gotten even worse.
The thing he regretted most was the way he had behaved during that difficult time. After his change of heart toward Abby, however, and his realization that his father was doing everything in his power to keep their ranch from being foreclos
ed and his children properly cared for, Luke had done whatever he could to assist his family instead of hinder. From the age of fifteen until nineteen, he had written three serializations for the Philadelphia Inquirer and made a little money that he'd tried to give to his father. His father had refused and instead made him open a savings account at the bank. At the age of twenty, his fourth adventure story had taken off and been picked up by other newspapers. He supposed it was because his writing had matured and also because of the help Abby had given him. By the time the money started arriving, his father wasn't struggling as much to make a living because he had invested in a new breed of cows that fattened up better than Longhorns. Still, Luke had wanted to help his family and done so in ways that kept his father's pride intact. Now that he was a man, he understood his pa better and continued to assist by lavishing gifts on birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmas. When he had given them plans for an addition to their ranch—moving the kitchen to its own room, his father had adamantly refused. That's when Abby had interjected, "Honey, don't you remember our talks about allowing people to give when they have a heart to do so. The giving is not so much for the receiver, as for the giver. People need to give."
Luke had watched his father run a hand through his hair and gaze lovingly at his wife. "I know, darlin'. It's just that–"
Abby had interrupted, "It's just what, Brant? Are you the only one allowed to give in this household?"
"But it's so extravagant and expensive."
"Since when to we put a price on the giving heart?"
Luke had watched the exchange in fascination. Abby was wonderful with his father and had a way of changing her husband's mind when others couldn't. His father had looked at her, shook his head, and laughed. Then he'd turned to Luke. "Son, if you're of a mind to do this, I won't stop you."
In a state of half-sleep, Luke grinned at his memories. He heard Angel's door creak and opened his eyes. He had turned the lamplight down and she didn't see him. Mesmerized, he watched her walk to the hook beside the front door and lift her reticule off of it. She wore a simple nightgown that buttoned from her neck to her waist and her hair flowed to her hips, the black color in sharp contrast to the gown's whiteness. She truly had the hair of an angel. When she turned to retrace her steps to her room, she noticed him and gasped. Never had Luke seen a more glorious sight and his gut clenched wondering at the heartaches that had made her into such a broken woman. Without a word, she hastened from the room.
Chapter Nine: Next Installment, Please
Angel awoke and stretched luxuriously. Her bed was so soft and comfortable. Splendid light shined through the hotel window and touched her face. Still not fully awake, she hugged a pillow to her chest and felt…safe. Coming fully awake she reveled in the feeling, sure it would last only until she had to get up and prepare for the day. But for just a few minutes, she wanted to enjoy a state of being she hadn't experienced in years.
Finally, she arose and dressed in a simple gingham day dress, bound her hair into a bun, and covered it with a small bonnet. Grabbing her reticule and opening the door to her room, she hesitated in the doorway.
"Good morning, Angel." Luke sat writing at a desk in the sitting room. He looked like he hadn't slept well.
She stepped into the room. "Good morning, Luke."
"I hope you're hungry. This hotel has an excellent dining room."
Angel felt anxiety replace her previous peace. "Maybe we could just eat in our room again like last night?"
Luke pushed away from the desk and came to stand in front of her. Softly, he said, "Angel, it will be okay. No harm will come to you." Gently taking her elbow he guided her to the window and pulled the curtains aside. "It's a beautiful day. We have time for a walk in the park before our stagecoach leaves."
Angel chewed the inside of her cheek. She really would enjoy a walk in the fresh air. "Well, I guess."
"You won't be sorry, honey."
Angel decided Luke had been right about the dining room. It was clean and lovely and served wonderful coffee. They placed their orders and Angel sipped her coffee laced with cream and sugar. They were seated next to a window and she spied a paperboy outside. She could hear him yelling, "Bingham Gazette!"
"Luke, would you buy a newspaper?"
"I certainly will."
Angel watched through the window as Luke approached the boy, talked with him, made him laugh, and tossed him a coin. The boy grinned and handed him a paper. Angel felt her heart being drawn to Luke and the warmth he radiated. He was a wonderful man, of that she was now sure.
When he returned and handed her the newspaper, she said, "I just love the stories written by Dawson Jeffries. Every Sunday I read the next installment. I hope this paper carries his series. Have you ever read his adventure tales?"
Luke suddenly choked on the coffee he was sipping and it sloshed over the top of his cup.
Angel reached for a napkin. "Goodness. Are you okay? Here drink some water."
Holding up one hand, he rasped, "I'm okay." He accepted the water and sipped.
Angel opened the newspaper and scanned the table of contents. She was rewarded and said excitedly, "They have his stories. You didn't tell me if you follow them or not."
"I do."
Angel quickly flipped the pages. Locating the section, she said, "Did you read the last installment about the husband and wife lost in the Yukon? My heart was in my throat. I can't wait to see what happens next. Would you like me to read it aloud to you?"
* * *
Luke mentally shook his head at the animation in Angel's face while she talked about his story and he wondered if he should tell her that he was Dawson Jeffries. Not many people knew. Early on, he had discovered that people treated him differently if they found out. They gave him preferential treatment and didn't act natural around him.
When he was a teenager and had written a couple of stories for the Philadelphia Inquirer, his hometown had celebrated his success, but it was then he'd learned about people's reaction to him. That's when he'd started writing under a pen name and stopped sharing his success. Because Two Rivers only circulated a tiny local paper, usually only one page, his stories were soon forgotten by the townsfolk. Besides his parents, only a few close friends knew about his authorship.
Watching Angel, he decided against informing her of his identity. That way he could enjoy her delight over his stories. "Yes, please read it to me."
The waitress brought their breakfast, but Angel didn't eat. She said, "You eat and I'll read."
Luke lifted a fluffy biscuit to his mouth and listened.
Damon rushed through the undergrowth holding tightly to Marci's hand, pulling her behind him. The growl of the bear shot fear into his heart. He had to save his wife. Bringing her to the Yukon had been a mistake. She belonged in a mansion, safe and pampered. He was a mountain man, a wanderer, an adventurer. Love had blinded him to her needs and now love would have to let her go.
The roar of the bear was closer now, only seconds away. He prayed that his memory had served him well and the trapper's cabin was close by. Marci stumbled and he turned to help her. The bear lumbered into view.
"Run as fast as you can, Marci!" He practically dragged her along.
Marci yelled, "I want you to know how much I love you, Damon!"
The cabin came into sight and Damon prayed they would reach it in time. He pulled Marci up the steps and thrust the door open, launching them both inside just as the bear bounded onto the porch.
Angel looked up with saucer eyes. "I can hardly breathe from the suspense."
Luke could only stare at her, his bacon forgotten. She did things to his heart he had never felt before. He wanted to forget where they were, forget their arrangement, and pull her into his arms, kissing her until she clung to him with desire. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
She continued reading.
Damon shoved the door shut with his shoulder, secured it, and then pulled Marci into his arms. "My darling, I'm so sorry fo
r bringing you here. I should have known better. I'm taking you back to the States. I can't ask you to live in this barbarous wilderness."
Marci pushed away from him. "What are you saying? What do you mean you're taking me back? I'm not going anywhere. You belong here and I belong with you. I love this wilderness!"
"No, Marci. We were almost killed."
"Do you not know that returning me to the States will kill me? I cannot fathom living that empty lifestyle again. I belong here, with you."
"No! I'm taking you back to safety."
Marci opened her mouth to protest again, but the door was suddenly kicked open and a filthy trapper aimed a rifle straight at them. "Now what have we here?" he smirked.
(To be continued)
Angel sighed. "We have to wait a week to see what happens. I hope Two Rivers has a paper that carries the installments."
Luke replied, "Sorry, Angel, they don't. You better eat. Your food is getting cold."
She placed a hand over her heart. "I just need a second for my pulse to slow down. I wonder what's going to happen with the trapper?"
Luke lifted his napkin to his mouth and grinned. He was getting more pleasure out of watching Angel's reaction to the story than he did in writing it.
Finally, she buttered a biscuit, added some preserves, and sighed. She ate everything on her plate.
Chapter Ten: Meet the Parents
Angel gazed out the stagecoach window at rolling, tree covered hills. The terrain was quite lovely and she could see why Luke spoke affectionately of the area. Squeezed between Luke and a heavyset woman, it was impossible to put any distance between herself and her new husband. His body felt hard and warm and her awareness of him made her nervous. He was too masculine and kept her stomach tied up in knots. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to come with him. Maybe she should have insisted they marry after he returned from visiting his parents. Maybe…"