by Verna Clay
With a loud gasp, she cried, "What are you doing here?"
"Tell me what's going on. Why are you leaving with this man?"
The man chuckled and Angel turned pleading eyes on Luke. "Please don't stop me."
"What the hell do you mean, don't stop you? I'm not about to let you leave." He focused on the cowboy. "You'd best step away from my wife."
The man laughed loudly. "Oh, you'll get her back, no worries there. We're just going to spend a little time getting to know each other. After she ditched me in a Denver jail, I made it my mission to track her down and finish what I started."
Luke didn't as much as flinch. He had one objective—get Angel away from the man so he could deal with him. He said menacingly, "I don't want to repeat myself; step away from my wife. Or do you often hide behind women's skirts."
The cowboy narrowed his eyes. "Sorry, Angel, but I guess I'm gonna have to kill your husband anyway."
Angel whimpered, "Please don't. I'll do anything you–"
A voice behind Luke interrupted. "I'll take care of this, Luke." The drifter's gaze moved to the newcomer. After a surprised look, he said, "Charlie, is that you?"
"Sure is, Dawg."
"My god, it's been thirty years. I heard tell you met up with some gal and changed your wicked ways."
"Yep, that's right. Looks like you never gave yours up though. I can't let you take Angel with you." Charlie stepped in front of Luke.
Luke did a double take when he saw the six-shooter slung low on Charlie's hip. Charlie said calmly, "Angel, step aside."
Dawg smirked, "Yes, Angel, step aside while I take care of this unforeseen hitch. I won't be long. I guess Charlie's wantin' to leave this life with a bang."
Luke exhaled in relief when Angel stepped away from the cowboy. Charlie edged further from Luke and he watched the two gunslingers measure each other, their hands poised over their pistols. Luke readied his hand above his derringer. He would do anything to protect Angel.
Suddenly, Dawg slipped his gun smoothly from its place against his hip and fired. Charlie did the same. Luke pointed his derringer at the gunslinger, ready to fire, but it wasn't necessary. A look of pure astonishment replaced Dawg's cocky expression just before he toppled to the ground. Charlie had shot him dead center through his heart. His body twitched and then went still. Charlie twirled his gun, holstered it, shook his head, and said, "Yep, it was me wife who changed me. Too bad you never met a woman to change you, old friend." Then he turned to Luke and said, "I'll go fer the sheriff."
* * *
Dusk had fallen by the time Luke pulled the buckboard to the front of his ranch and Angel welcomed the dim light so he couldn't see her tear-stained cheeks. She had kept her face averted the entire drive because she didn't have the courage to face him. No longer could she push memories to an inaccessible place in her mind. She should have told him about her past, but now it was too late. She swiped the back of her hand across her nose and gulped back a fresh wave of tears. She had to tell Luke the truth about herself.
When he encircled her waist and helped her down, she pushed away from him as soon as her feet touched the ground. Instead of walking toward the house, she turned toward the corrals. "I-I need to walk."
"I'll walk with you," he said softly.
Angel stepped forward and stopped. Hanging her head and sobbing, she said, "I have something to tell you. My conscience kept trying to make me come clean, but I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore."
She started forward again, but Luke's angry voice stopped her. "Do you have that low of an opinion of me?"
Angel paused, but couldn't bring herself to face Luke. "Wh-what do you mean? I could never have a low opinion of you."
"If you believe that I could ever stop loving you, for any reason, you have a low opinion of me. Have I not shown you how much I love and adore you? Have I not convinced you that I would pass through the fires of hell for you?"
Angel sobbed, "I was a prostitute and then a man's mistress."
Luke swiftly covered the few paces separating them and stepped in front of her. "I will not repeat this, so listen carefully. Nothing you did before we met will change my love for you. Right now, you have a choice to make. You can let go of the past and love me as much as I love you, or you can allow your history to dictate our future. I can't make the decision for you."
For a long moment, Angel drank in Luke's soul by staring into the depths of his eyes. Even the fading light could not extinguish the love shining through. With a cry of pain, laced with joy, she threw her arms around his neck. "I choose you, Luke! I choose you!"
After a night of lovemaking, Angel finally revealed her sordid past to her husband. To cleanse her soul, once and for all, she wanted him to know everything. With dawn's light he encouraged her, never judging or condemning. Softly she said, "After the death of my child and husband, I couldn't stay in the cabin I had always hated. I sold the place for a pittance and after paying my husband's debts, there was nothing left. The only job I could find was working as a cook at the local brothel. I told the Madam I only wanted to cook, but she paid me so poorly I knew I could never save enough money to leave. She constantly brought up the fact that I had already been soiled by my depraved husband, so I might as well make money by selling my body. After awhile, I started believing her. I wanted to leave the stench of that filthy town so badly, I finally gave in." Angel had spoken without emotion, but now her voice cracked. "So, I did it. I became one of them."
Luke pulled her close and kissed the tears leaking from her eyes. "Honey, tell me everything so you can be free of it."
Angel sniffed. "A man from the big city came in and the Madam sent me to him. He started coming back and only asked for me. After a few weeks, he said he wanted to make me his mistress and take me away from the brothel. The night before, I had been slapped around by a drunken cowboy and I knew that if I didn't accept his offer, I would soon be dead; either by the hand of a patron, or by my own hand. I simply could not go on. So, I accepted. I became his mistress for twelve years. Since he was a respected man with a wife and children, he kept me in a townhouse on the outskirts of the city and I lived a lonely life." Angel sobbed, "I was so scared I might become pregnant, but when I never did, I figured the difficulties with my miscarriage had made me barren, and I was glad. Oh, Luke, I don't think I can give you children." Angel buried her face in her husband's naked chest and cried, "I'm so sorry."
Luke caressed her hair. "Shh, Angel. Whether we have children or not doesn't change anything. Finish your story, love."
Angel hiccupped. "For twelve years I saved every cent he gave me, and when I thought I had enough money, I started searching the papers for bakeries for sale in other states. I saw the advertisement for the San Francisco one and corresponded with the owners. I sent a telegram to the authorities to determine if the sale was legitimate, and it was, so I sent a bank draft with the down payment. I was to pay the balance when I arrived. Of course, after you asked me to stay, we sent a telegram acknowledging my forfeiture of the bakery."
Luke placed his forehead against hers. "So, after you bought the bakery, you hired Dawg to escort you, but he accosted you in Denver and you left while he was in jail."
"Yes. And that's when I started using my maiden name and my nickname. And then I met you." She lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Brushing her fingers over his lips, she whispered, "Dawg said if I didn't come with him, he'd kill you." A tear trickled down Angel's cheek. "I would do anything to protect you."
Luke reached and thumbed Angel's tears away and they stared at each other for a long time. Finally, she smiled and said, "I love you, Luke, and now I'm free of the past. There's nothing more to tell."
Lovingly, Luke smiled and placed his hand behind her head, pulling her mouth to his. "You've made me believe in angels, Angel."
Epilogue
Angel smoothed a hand over her round belly and greeted a lovely spring day. Another two months and their baby would be born. The fac
t that she and Luke were expecting a child was nothing short of a miracle in her judgment. They had recently celebrated their one year anniversary with family and close friends, and the fact that they would soon become parents, was the best present Luke could have given her. Next to that, was the train passage he had purchased so Jenny could be there for the family's annual tradition. Angel would finally meet her sister-in-law. Jenny's paintings hung throughout their home and Angel marveled at the warmth and love radiating from them.
The smell of fresh baked bread wafted from the kitchen and Angel rushed to remove the loaf from the oven. While she was placing another one on the rack, the kitchen door opened and Luke stepped inside.
"Darlin', look at this."
Angel closed the oven door, glanced up, and didn't see anything at first. Then her eyes alighted on Luke's arm where three butterflies rested next to each other. Angel laughed delightedly when they flew off his arm and onto her round belly.
Luke chuckled, "I think Wally's joined them and they're welcoming the baby." At his words, the butterflies lifted and fluttered toward the open kitchen window and perched on the ledge for only a second before flying in the direction of the old oak shading the graves of Molly, Ty, and faithful Wally.
Author's Note
Having finished writing Luke and Angel's love story, I sigh and daydream about the next book in the series—Ryder's Salvation.
Jake Ryder has certainly experienced his own share of sorrow. Sadly, he lost an arm in an accident and has become a bitter, reclusive man. The last joy of his life—his artistic ability—was stolen in a moment of time.
His friend, Jonas "Soaring Eagle" Winston, and co-founder of their art institute in New York, convinces him to make a brief appearance at their annual gala displaying the works of their most talented students.
Although Ryder recognizes potential in country landscapes painted by Jenny Samson, the perfection in the scenes only incense the artist in him. Without regard for her feelings, he lashes out, criticizing her efforts. The hurt in her eyes haunts his sleep, and when she arrives on his doorstep demanding he teach her the secrets of light and dark that give soul to his own paintings, he is torn between having her removed from his property or finding out if she has what it takes to become a great artist.
Ryder's Salvation
Unconventional Series
By
Verna Clay
This book is dedicated to those who have loved to the utmost, only to be rejected.
Ryder's Salvation
Unconventional Series
Copyright © 2012 by Verna Clay
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information contact:
[email protected]
Website: www.VernaClay.com
Published by:
M.O.I. Publishing
"Mirrors of Imagination"
Cover Design: Verna Clay
Pictures: Dreamstime; iStockphoto
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dear Readers,
While writing the romance between Jake Ryder and Jenny Samson, I attempted to "get into the minds" of artists and added an esoteric slant to this story—nothing overwhelming, but just enough to create characters driven by forces beyond their understanding.
Without giving anything away, I can reveal that Ryder (he goes by his last name) is tormented by emotional and physical loss. The loss of his painting arm was his final devastation and he lives a lonely existence.
For Jenny, it is Ryder's rejection of her that triggers her own emotional upheaval.
While Ryder and Jenny have much in common, it is their pride and self-preservation that drive them apart. Sometimes I became frustrated with them and wanted to shout, "Wake up!"
Happily, they eventually discovered the error of their ways and the perfect balance they have in each other.
Verna Clay
Chapter One: Saying Goodbye
Jenny bent and kissed the cherub cheek of the baby in her arms. "I'm going to miss you something fierce, Evangeline Molly Samson." Holding her tiny niece to her heart, she grazed her lips over Evangeline's downy black hair and inhaled her baby fragrance before reluctantly handing her back to her sister-in-law.
Angel sniffed, brushed a tear away, and accepted her baby in one arm while reaching to enfold Jenny with her other. "I wish you could stay another two months."
Jenny's brother stepped inside the front door. "The horses are hitched to the buggy. I'm ready when you are."
Jenny trailed a finger down Eva's cheek in a parting gesture, and then turned to her brother. "Luke, we'd best hurry before I'm crying like a baby."
Luke lifted his sister's suitcase. "C'mon, Jenny, all these goodbyes are putting tears in my eyes, too." He turned to his wife. "Honey, I'll pick up those things you need from the general store and be back before supper."
After taking a couple of steps toward the door, he paused, set the suitcase down, and said, "Aw, hell." In a heartbeat, he was pulling his wife and baby and sister into his powerful arms. For several minutes the family clung to each other, mumbling their goodbyes yet again.
Finally, Luke said, "We've really got to leave to get you to your stagecoach on time."
Jenny waved a sad goodbye to Angel and Eva when the horses lurched the buggy forward at Luke's command. She was on her way to Two Rivers to begin her journey back to New York.
* * *
Leaning against the hard cushion of the stagecoach, Jenny closed her eyes and sighed. The travel time from Two Rivers to Bingham was three hours, and then she had a two hour wait until her train left for Dallas. The coach hit a rut and she groaned when she bounced several inches off her seat. Opening her eyes, she noticed her traveling companions, a full-figured, red-headed saloon type gal, and a handsome blonde man with matching mustache and goatee, didn't even flinch at the jostling of the coach. The pretty woman whose features had been enhanced by rouge and the darkening of her eyelids, smiled in a friendly manner and said as if she had read Jenny's mind, "Joe and I been traveling the country for eleven years and I think we've hit every rut in every road. The ruts in this one are nothing compared to the ones in Tennessee. Don't you agree, Joe?"
Joe barely slit his eyes open. "No, the ones in Arkansas are worse."
The lively woman laughed, "You know, come to think of it, you're right." She looked back at Jenny. "By the way, my name is Priscilla Clarkson, but my stage name is Princess Prisca."
Jenny grinned at the woman. "My name is Jenny Samson. I'm pleased to meet you."
"Likewise. And that man who's about to start snoring is Joseph Stillwater."
Without opening his eyes, Joseph stifled a yawn and said, "Pleased to me ya, Jenny. Just call me Joe."
"Umm, pleased to meet you, too."
Priscilla said, "So, Jenny, have you ever been to a theatrical performance in a saloon?"
Taken by surprise at her question, Jenny replied, "No. No ma'am."
Priscilla laughed so hard she snorted. "I can't remember the last time I was called ma'am in such a respectful way. Jenny, you just call me Prisca, like all my friends. Do your friends call you Jen?"
"My family doesn't, but some of my friends in New York do."
"New York! Are you traveling all the way there?"
"Yes. I've been visiting my family for a couple of months, but I'm returning to art school in New York. I have another year before I graduate."
"That sounds interesting. What are they teaching you?"
"I'm learning to paint with both oils and water colors, but oils are my favorite."
"My ma could draw pretty good and she tried to teach me, but I never got the hang of it. I was always wantin' to sing anyway. What do you paint?"
"Mostly land
scapes or country scenes—lakes, mountains, meadows, cabins, barns—that sort of thing."
"Do you paint people?"
"I have. But not often. I'm going to paint my niece, though. She was born shortly after I arrived for my visit and she's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. Of course, between her mother's beauty and my handsome brother, how could she not be?"
"Sounds like you have a wonderful family."
"I do. My pa remarried after my ma died when I was nine and my stepmother was a godsend. Her and my pa had two boys, so I have three brothers."
"I had an older brother, but he died when I was seven. My ma and pa wanted more kids, but they was never blessed with them. My pa died when I was sixteen; my ma not long after that. I was left to fend for myself and that's when Joe came along." Prisca glanced fondly at him. "He taught me how to sing in front of people and we've been traveling together ever since."
Jenny glanced at Joe and he made a snoring sound.
Prisca laughed. "Yep, he can sleep through anything."
Jenny asked, "At the risk of sounding nosey, where is your next…er…theatrical performance?"
"We're headed to Bingham for a week, then on to Dallas and Ft. Worth for a month and then to Shreveport for two weeks. After that, we got some performances lined up in Baton Rouge. And after that, don't know. That's the way this business is—up and down."
The remainder of the journey was delightful with Prisca's lively personality and generous smiles endearing her to Jenny. Jenny knew that "proper" women would look down their noses at Prisca, but she found her charming.
After Joe woke, he joined their animated conversation and helped pass the hours. Jenny couldn't help but notice that the same glances she often saw pass between Luke and Angel, also passed between Prisca and Joe—like they shared a secret known only to the two of them. She also noted that Prisca often touched Joe and he responded with smiles and return touches. She wondered if they were married, but remembered Prisca had introduced them with different last names. Their relationship intrigued Jenny, but, of course, she did not pursue her curiosity with questions.