“Sorry, Miss Angel. Ma said to bring this over straight away.” He waved a letter around.
“Go and give it to Preacher Tom, I think he’s out the back somewhere.”
“It’s for you.”
“Me?” Oh, no! Aunt Lillian! Something must have happened to her. Angel’s hand shook as she reached out for the letter. “Thanks for bringing it over. I’m sorry for scolding you. I’m still feeling a bit delicate.”
“It’s all right. Hope it isn’t bad news.” He was suddenly gone.
Mrs. Taylor stepped into the room. “I swear that boy doesn’t know how to walk. I’ve only ever seen him move at a run.”
Angel laughed. “I know. He brought me a letter. I wonder who it’s from?”
“I would open it dear, that way you’ll know. Like a cup of tea?”
“Thanks, that would be lovely. Don’t go, I’ve got a horrible feeling about this.” A shiver of apprehension shot through her.
She didn’t recognize the bold black handwriting. It was certainly addressed to Miss A. Nesbitt. C/- Mercantile, Kilvington.
Mrs. Taylor lifted Robbie out of her arms and placed him into a crib woven out of reeds that had once been used by Preacher Tom’s daughters. It had two handles which made it easy to carry. Another couple of months or so and he would grow out of it. While Mrs. Taylor carried the baby into the bedroom she and Angel shared, she fumbled with the flap of the envelope trying to open it.
Argyle Ranch
Laramie
Miss Nesbitt, my name is Clinton McKenzie. I am the brother of Timothy. I regret to inform you that about twelve months ago, my brother was killed in a train accident.
There was a roaring in her ears, like a freight train speeding out of control. She gritted her teeth trying to shop the shudders wracking her body. She wouldn’t faint. She wouldn’t. She had gone through childbirth, had overcome a broken heart and survived. The writing became blurry and she realized she was reading it through a sheen of tears.
I found letters from you to my brother in his belongings. I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner, but it was only now that I felt able to go through his possessions.
I know you would have had expectations of a marriage between you and I am sorry for your loss. He has been buried in Laramie next to our parents, so it is a comfort to me that he was brought home.
Sincerely,
Clinton McKenzie.
Mrs. Taylor came in with the tray, and with an unsteady hand Angel held the letter out to her. Quickly the old lady read it. “Oh, my dear. What can I say? At least, Timothy didn’t desert you like we thought.”
“He must have died on his way back to the ranch. He did mean to come back for me.” Her voice was husky with grief and she wondered how she could get the words out. “My poor Timothy. Why didn’t we hear about the train accident?”
“I did hear about it, a couple of days after he left. The track buckled or something and the engine and first carriage derailed. The train driver and three passengers were killed. You were so distraught about Timothy leaving I didn’t want to upset you anymore. I didn’t think for one moment he would have been on that train.”
“What am I going to do?” She wrung her hands.
“I don’t know, my dear. What do you want to do?”
“Cry until I’ve got no tears left.”
“This won’t do, you’ve got the babe to think of now. If you get sick or lose your milk, what will he do? My advice is, write back to this man to thank him for at least having the courtesy to let you know. It can’t have been an easy letter for him to write”
“Timothy said Clinton was married to some evil witch of a woman who made life a living hell for him.”
“Well, there you go, the man has obviously suffered, maybe that’s why he felt compelled to write to you. If you want my advice. I would write back to him. Don’t tell him about the babe or your marriage to Timothy.”
“Doesn’t he have the right to know?”
“It’s up to you, dear, but you don’t know how he will react. He might come charging down here to collect his nephew.”
“Oh, no!”
“On the other hand, he may not want to have anything to do with you or the babe.”
What Mrs. Taylor said was true. Clinton McKenzie deserved to know she had received the letter and was grateful for him taking the time to write.
“Do it now,” Mrs. Taylor urged. “I’ll take it to the mercantile I’m going down there in a little while.”
“All right I’ll do it.”
****
Two weeks after he had written the letter to Angelique Nesbitt, Hughie, who had been into Laramie to visit his sister, stomped into the kitchen as he was eating supper. He tossed a letter on the table. “You dang fool, Clint, writing to that woman.”
“What woman?”
“That witch Celia.”
At the mention of her name, Clint nearly regurgitated his beans. Why couldn’t she leave him alone? What would it take for her to get the message – he didn’t want to marry her and never would. “Coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“Beans?”
“No, I had an early supper with Maisie before I left Laramie.”
Clint stood to collect another mug, grabbed up the letter ready to toss it in the fire. The faint illusive lavender scent stopped him in his tracks. It was from this Angelique woman.
“It’s not from Celia. Did you know Tim was writing to some woman near Cheyanne?”
“No, why would he do that?” Hughie grunted his thanks for the coffee.
“Mail-order bride.”
The old man spluttered into his coffee mug. “Geez, you McKenzie boys can sure get yourself into a mess when it comes to women.”
“Yes, our track record isn’t good, but you ought to talk.” Clint grinned. “Why didn’t you get yourself hitched?”
“I had me chances over the years but wasn’t interested in being hogtied and branded. I could get all the lovin’ I needed at the local cathouse. Once me itch was scratched, I’d grab me hat and boots and head home until next time.”
Hughie gave him a hard stare. “Why don’t you open the letter?”
“Later.”
“She might be asking you for money.”
“Tarnation, I didn’t think of that.” Clint slid his fingernail under the flap and opened the envelope. “I don’t have any spare money, so she could beg on her hands and knees and I couldn’t give her anything.”
“You’ve got a real good ranch, and you don’t want no woman getting her greedy hands on it.”
“Exactly, old friend, that’s what Celia is after, the ranch, or the money she thinks I’ll get for selling it.”
He unfolded the letter. Did this Angelique woman spill lavender drops on it or was it just her special scent?
Mr. McKenzie.
Thank you for your letting me know about Timothy, I am truly grateful that you wrote. My heart is hurting now. He was such a gentleman and I quickly became fond of him. I would have liked to have met you as he spoke so fondly of his big brother. I am sorry for your loss which is obviously far worse than mine.
I am not sure what I will do now. I need time for the full tragedy to sink in. I do share your grief Mr. McKenzie, and I wish I could do something to lessen it for you. Sad to say, I can’t. If it is any comfort, Timothy was happy and laughing the last time I saw him.
Sincerely,
Angelique.
After he finished reading the letter, he handed it over to Hughie.
“You gonna answer it?” he asked after reading it.
“I don’t know.” Clint gnawed his lower lip. “What do you think?” Hughie might be an old washed up cowpoke to many, yet he valued the old man’s opinion. “Should I?”
Hughie scratched his head. “Yeah. Why don’t you ask this woman to marry you?”
Clint nearly fell off the chair. “What!”
“She sounds all
right.”
“Marry a woman I’ve never met? She’s probably a hag.” He shuddered.
“Tim must have thought she was okay.”
“He probably changed his mind once he met her and that’s why he was high-tailing it out of there on the train.”
“If she’s desperate for a husband, she wouldn’t expect much of you,” Hughie said.
“That’s true.”
“It would get Celia off your back. She’d go back East and find some other poor varmint to ruin.”
What Hughie said did have some merit. Was he crazy thinking like this? Marry a woman he had never met? A marriage in name only then he could have it annulled whenever he wanted to.
“Well. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll think about it.”
With a smirk Hughie walked off and headed over to the bunk house, no doubt ready to impart what he thought was juicy gossip to Bert. “Dammit, am I cursed?”
As he picked the coffee mugs off the table, the enticing lavender scent infused his nostrils, soft and subtle. Unless this Angelique woman poured lavender perfume over the envelope, it shouldn’t smell this strong. He must be crazier in the head than what he thought, imagining he could smell something that wasn’t there.
What if he did propose a marriage in name only to her? It would keep Celia at bay. If Angelique was too ugly, he could keep her hidden at the ranch most of the time. A man didn’t want to be humiliated. If she insisted on shopping for supplies, they could go to old Bernie’s store. Never anyone much around there. If it wasn’t for the moon shine that he distilled he would be out of business. How anyone of sound mind could drink the gut rot stuff he had no idea. God alone knew what went into it.
Why not give it a try? A woman as desperate as this woman sounded would ask little from him. He would make his terms clear and she could either take them or leave them. Before he changed his mind, he reached into one of the drawers in the kitchen dresser to retrieve his writing materials.
Dear Angelique,
I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of calling you that. I received your letter and your sympathy is duly noted. He winced at the words. He sounded like an attorney.
I’ve been thinking about your position and mine also, so I would like to put a proposition to you if you are agreeable. Why don’t you marry me? For reasons I won’t go into I find myself in need of a wife. This would have to be a marriage in name only. I am not interested in anything else.
I own a good ranch, although I have had some financial problems in the past, but I am working hard to get it on a prosperous footing again.
He didn’t like telling a stranger his private business yet was purposely letting her know he wasn’t rich in case she was a gold digger, instead of some poor desperate woman who couldn’t get herself a husband in the usual way.
I would expect you to come to Laramie rather than I come to you.
Also please know, I will not be prepared to live anywhere else except at my ranch in a house that Tim worked on over the last few years. It is quite comfortable.
If you accept my proposal, let me know what day and time the train will get in and I will meet you at Laramie station. I will book a room at the hotel where you can stay until we are married.
If you can’t afford to buy a train ticket, please let me know and I will make the arrangements to get money to you.
Sincerely,
Clint McKenzie.
It wasn’t much of a letter, abrupt although honest. He didn’t bother asking about any references as Tim would have checked those out. He sealed it up and left it on the table. Tomorrow he would ride to Bernie’s and give it to him to pass on to the postal people who would see it got to Angelique. Then all he could was wait and see what happened.
Chapter Three
Angel was sitting on the front porch with Mrs. Taylor. The garden was a riot of brightly colored flowers. A lilac bush grew near the side of the porch and a hedge of lavender bushes graced either side of the path leading from the gate to the house.
The garden had been planted by Mrs. Taylor when she had previously resided here with her preacher husband. Preacher Tom and his wife Agnes had graciously allowed her to continue living here when they moved in. Mrs. Taylor was dozing with the book she had been reading opened and was now resting on her face.
Preacher Tom and Agnes had been so good about letting her and Robbie stay with them, but with Mrs. Taylor being here as well, the house was bursting at the seams.
I’ll have to find somewhere else to live. I can’t keep imposing on these good people forever.
She had been feeling very low since hearing about Timothy’s death. Robbie would never know his father now. The small hope she had carried that he might return for her was snuffed out. The only comfort she had to cling to was Timothy hadn’t deserted her. Why did this have to happen? She wasn’t a bad person, had always followed the teachings of the bible.
“You’ve got another letter.” Michael from the mercantile charged through the gate yelling at the top of his voice.
A startled Mrs. Taylor bobbed her head up causing the book to fall to the ground.
“Another letter, Angel.” He waved his arm about before leaping on to the porch.
“Slow down, young man,” the old lady admonished him. “Charging in here like the hounds of hell are barking at your feet. You’ll end up waking the babe.”
“Thank you for bringing me the letter, Michael, but a quieter delivery would be best.”
The preacher’s children were at school and Preacher Tom and Agnes were visiting a sick member of their congregation. Angel stretched out her arm and the boy thrust the letter into her hand.
“Thank you.”
“Pleasure.” He dashed off.
“That boy is going to end up running himself into the ground if he doesn’t slow down,” Mrs. Taylor said.
With trembling hands, Angel opened the letter and started reading it. Her gasp of shock had the old lady rushing to her side.
“My dear, what’s wrong?” She took Angel’s hand. “Don’t go fainting on me.”
“Clinton McKenzie has offered to marry me.”
“I told you not to mention the babe.”
“I didn’t.”
She handed the letter over so the older woman could read it. “He sounds rather cold. Timothy was so warm and caring.”
“Yes, but Clinton was married to a dreadful woman. Timothy called her a witch. She deliberately set fire to the ranch house but was trapped inside and died. She squandered most of Clinton’s money, had relations with other men.” Angel shuddered. “Any wonder he sounds cold.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight now.”
“Look into your heart. Do you think this man will make you happy with the restrictions he has placed on the marriage? You have the babe to think of. A little boy needs a father. I think you should seriously consider it, after all he is blood, even if he doesn’t know it.”
“What!”
“He’s a good man from what Timothy told us. They’re a decent well-respected family. I’m sure he would do right by Robbie if he knew, with or without marriage.”
What chance would she have, a mother who has no job, no family or money? If he decided he wanted his brother’s child. “I can’t tell him about the baby he might take him off me.”
“If you were married to him, he wouldn’t.”
“You mean, marry him and then tell him?” Angel wrung her hands in anguish.
“That’s one option. Or if you just tell him you’re Timothy’s widow and Robbie is his son he might be prepared to support you without marriage.”
“He couldn’t give me much money, he doesn’t have it, his wife spent it all. He was away working a lot of the time to earn money Timothy said.”
“Promise me you’ll think seriously about this. You and the babe have given me so muc
h pleasure, but I know you feel bad about staying here under the circumstances.”
“It’s too crowded, and it isn’t fair to Preacher Tom and his family. The baby crying at night to be fed interrupts your sleep.”
“Think about it. Make a list if you like, the for and against arguments, and see what you come up with.”
The old lady’s advice was sound about making a list. She couldn’t afford to make the wrong decision, there were too many lives involved.
****
Angel felt as if she’d only closed her eyes when Robbie woke up crying to be fed. She dived out of the bed she shared with Mrs. Taylor and scooped him up from his crib and sat on the side of the bed.
“Don’t cry, darling, you’ll wake the whole house.” She opened her nightgown and gave him the breast cutting off the cries. “Ooh, you are a hungry one.” She patted the back of his head. Once he finished one side, she would change his diaper before giving him the other breast. It meant lighting the lamp and she didn’t like doing it even though she kept it turned down.
Mrs. Taylor was still asleep although Angel suspected she often pretended to be so she wouldn’t feel bad. It couldn’t go on like this. It wasn’t good for her nervous disposition to have to creep around at night, flying out of bed whenever Robbie whimpered. One of these days she would do herself an injury, then where would they be?
If only she could get a job. It would have to be live-in as she needed somewhere to stay. Even if she could get such a position, what if her employer proved to be unsavory. If she had to move to an isolated ranch she could be subjected to violence. Could be murdered or violated. The pictures building up in her mind were terrifying.
At least she knew Clinton McKenzie was a decent man who lived in a comfortable home and wasn’t some drunken brute. He would see to it her and Robbie came to no harm. There wouldn’t be any of the love a woman expected from her husband, yet he would never treat her harshly, either.
To be brutally honest, Clinton McKenzie and his offer was the best she was going to get. Should she tell him about marrying Timothy? That Robbie was his nephew?
She lit the lamp and kept it turned down low while she changed the baby, then put him on the other breast. He would fall asleep half-way through like he always did.
Mail Order Angelique Page 2