Angel

by Danielle Carriere

  Olivia watched her warily, as though expecting her to lash out. Instead Angel merely shook her head and asked dully, “Does Clark know? Did you tell him about my . . . encounter . . . with James?”

  Clark jerked his head around to stare at Angel.

  Olivia hesitated and then spoke with reproach. “No. I did not feel it was my place to share that information.”

  “What information?” Clark growled.

  Olivia glanced at Angel, but when Angel remained silent, Olivia spoke, choosing her words carefully, delicately. Lightly. “It seems, dear, that Angel and I unfortunately have more in common with one another than we originally thought.” Her eyes hardened slightly, and Clark’s eyes narrowed as she continued. “Namely, James, and what he took from both of us.”

  Angel knew Clark could not have mistook Olivia’s meaning, but he said nothing. And as he said nothing, his eyes grew harder and harder. His jaw clenched, and his breathing grew heavy. The tips of his fingers pressed into the wood of the table with such force they turned white. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stood. One hand rested at his side. The other, he flexed over and over. Angel could hear one knuckle pop each time his fingers curled together to meet his palm.

  Angel took her cue from Olivia and stood silently and uncomfortably as Clark obviously struggled to calm himself. Gradually, the deep red faded from the back of his neck, and his breathing quieted. When he turned around, his jaw was still clenched.

  “I know I promised you I wouldn’t go after James, years ago . . .” Clark’s words to Olivia drew Angel back to the conversation. “But I don’t know if I can keep that promise anymore.” His voice shook, and Olivia took his hand.

  “You know why I asked that promise of you,” Olivia said.

  Clark’s face twisted, and he turned from Olivia as he said, “I know you don’t want anyone to know what happened to you. I know that unless others know what he did, it will look like I killed my brother for no reason at all, and I could be hung for that. I know you wouldn’t let that happen—you’d tell the world the truth before you’d see me hanged. And I know you’d never forgive me for putting you in a situation where you had to make that choice.” Clark paused, then continued. “But I don’t know it’d be possible for me to be a man and keep living knowing I allowed him to go on the way he is after all he’s done.”

  Then, refusing to meet Olivia’s eyes, he turned and walked out the door.

  Angel opened her mouth to speak and Olivia shook her head. “Leave it be. Clark will be back after he’s thought on all this a while. For now, let’s clean up after dinner.”

  As they cleaned the dishes, Angel ventured a question. “Has Clark ever raised his voice to you?”

  Olivia smiled. “No, although I’m sure there’s been times he had the chance.”

  Angel thought for a moment before asking, “And you? Have you ever argued with him at all?”

  Olivia laughed. The sound was strange to Angel after the conversation that had come only minutes before. “Oh heavens, yes. We argue all the time. But he never raises his voice, and I don’t think I could have the heart to raise mine knowing he would never do the same.”

  Angel felt perplexity color her expression as she pondered Olivia’s words and her memories of the saloon. “I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone else who thought that way,” she admitted as she wiped a dish and placed it in its holding place.

  Olivia smiled, then said, “I’ve never met anyone else like Clark.”

  They worked in silence for a several minutes, and then Olivia added, “By the way, Nathan will be joining us for dinner tomorrow.”

  “Oh?” Angel asked, her voice carefully even, as it always was when Olivia mentioned Nathan.

  Without looking up from the dish she was drying, Olivia asked, “Have you given any thought to what I said the other day?”

  Angel grimaced. “I would prefer not to speak of it.”

  Olivia’s expression plainly indicated that she did not care one whit whether or not Angel preferred to speak of it, and she opened her mouth to say so, but Angel cut her off with a raised hand. “But I am a guest in your home, and as such, I do owe you some explanation, so I will give you that.”

  Olivia’s expression softened. “I do hope, my dear, that you understand I ask with dual motivations. I ask both as Nathan’s aunt and, I hope, as your friend.”

  Angel nodded, feeling some of her defensiveness fade. Instead of answering Olivia’s question immediately, however, she asked one of her own. “How did Clark react when you told him you were pregnant?”

  Olivia shot Angel a sideways glance. “He wasn’t happy. I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that.”

  Angel shook her head, and Olivia continued. “I had to talk him down from going after James all over again. I think he was angrier at me for not wanting him to go after James than anything else. He thought I was defending James. He was going to go after James, even after I begged him not to. I was so afraid someone else would find out what happened I started crying, and I think that’s what finally made Clark realize that none of my pleading was about James.

  “He promised me he wouldn’t go after James and then he asked me to marry him.”

  Angel made a face. “Poor timing seems to run in the family.”

  And she told Olivia of Nathan’s reaction when he had learned of her pregnancy and how he had walked out of the cabin. She told Olivia of the men who had come to the cabin while Nathan was gone and of the words Nathan had spoken to them—I am my father’s son. And she told Olivia what Nathan had spoken to her after the men had left, of his proposal, and of his declaration of uncertain love.

  Olivia listened in attentive silence, and when Angel finally stopped speaking, she said sadly, “Oh, Nathan.”

  “I don’t know what to think. And I’m afraid of what Nathan thinks. Of what he will think,” Angel said helplessly.

  Olivia looked at her intently. “You will never know unless you talk to him.” She raised a hand, cutting off Angel’s protest as she opened her mouth to speak. “I know some of what Nathan said to you was poorly thought out. Nathan does not have his father’s way with words—something you should be grateful for. I learned long ago to beware the charmer who knows he is charming.

  “It is true that if you talk to Nathan, there is the possibility that he will confirm your fears to be true. But personally, I believe you should have a little more faith in Nathan.”

  Angel thought for a moment, her eyes distant. “Tell me, who does Nathan take after more—Clark or James?”

  Olivia laughed without humor, then answered, “That is an easy question to answer. Whenever I look at Nathan, I can see James. Not just in his looks, but in his mannerisms, his voice, his bearing and stubbornness. Nathan has much of James in him—” Angel stiffened, and Olivia continued gently. “But Nathan is different from James in the ways that count, and perhaps more importantly, he has a strong desire to be nothing like him. Nathan has James’s temper and impulsiveness, but he also has control over himself in a way that James never did. Nathan has the ability to forgive, and to admit he is wrong when he needs to, which is something James was never able to do. Nathan is good in a way I don’t believe James ever was.”

  Angel nodded, then exhaled sharply, her mouth twisting as she considered Olivia’s words.

  At that moment, Clark stalked back into the house, and as one, Olivia and Angel looked up at him. Avoiding both their eyes, Clark strode to the edge of the table, where he stood for a time, drumming his fingers against the wood. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy, but he spoke the words without hesitation.

  “I am sorry for what I am about to ask you, Angel, as I am sure you have little desire to relive these memories, but I must know the circumstances surrounding your encounter—how long ago, where you were at the time, and the like—with James.”

  Angel nodded slowly, her stomach clenching. “It was about seven months ago.”

  Clark’s eyes narrowed as though she had co
nfirmed his suspicion, but when he said nothing, Angel continued. “I was living with my uncle at his saloon in Oklada—”

  “You uncle didn’t, by any chance, go by the name of Thomas Bernard, did he?” Clark interrupted Angel, speaking with quiet intensity.

  “Well, he went by Tom, but Thomas Bernard was his given name, yes.” Angel nodded.

  Clark began pacing rapidly back and forth in the small room. “No real witnesses . . . only an empty-headed girl who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—describe her attacker . . .” Clark spoke softly out loud, as though repeating someone else’s words. Mortified, Angel felt her cheeks redden at his words.

  “Clark,” Olivia chided him sharply, and Clark shook his head, but before he could reply, Angel spoke urgently, her voice shaking.

  “I didn’t know until today it was him. I couldn’t remember. But then while I was walking through town I saw him, and I heard his voice, and the things he said—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Clark interrupted her gently. “And I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t mean to imply—of course I don’t believe what I said just now. I was only repeating aloud the speculation I had heard about the event at the time. Everything people said at the time, how little anyone knew about what had happened . . . It makes more sense now.”

  Looking directly at Angel, he said, “You must testify against James.”

  Angel paled. Where she had felt her cheeks flush with color only moments before, she now felt the heat drain out of her face to be replaced with ice, her heart pounding. “I will not.”

  Clark sat beside her, his expression almost pleading. “There is no one else who witnessed what he did—you are the only one who saw him kill that man—”

  Angel interrupted him firmly. “My uncle.”

  Clark’s expression softened. “Yes, you are the only one who knows James killed your uncle.”

  “What will he do if I speak against him? What if they don’t listen to me? What if they let him go?” Angel asked the questions as they ran through her mind, her voice small and panicked.

  “The evidence was always against James. There are men who saw James at the saloon the night before, who said he’d been drinking and that he got into a nasty fight with the owner and got himself thrown out. But without a witness to the murder, nothing ever stuck. You are that witness, Angel. If you testify, even James won’t be able to talk his way out of the facts, and if he can’t do that, he won’t be able to hurt you.”

  “I can’t tell Nathan it was his father,” Angel whispered.

  Clark watched her, his face unreadable. “If you cannot speak against James, he will always stand between you and Nathan—whether Nathan knows the truth or not.”

  ***

  As soon as Nathan arrived at Clark and Olivia’s house the next day, he could tell something was wrong—more wrong even than it should have been with James’s return. Clark answered the door, his face tense. When he saw it was Nathan, his face relaxed, but he looked over Nathan’s shoulder as he pulled the door closed.

  Olivia barely paused in her pacing to acknowledge Nathan’s entrance. When Nathan glanced inquiringly at Clark, he merely shook his head, then said, “I spoke to the sheriff this morning. They’re looking for James. As you can probably imagine, Olivia is—we are—on edge.”

  Nathan shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why are they looking for my father now? Has he done something else?”

  Clark paused, eyeing Nathan. “No. But the man your father was accused of killing last spring—a witness has been located.”

  Nathan narrowed his eyes. “A witness? Now? Why didn’t he come forward before?”

  At Nathan’s words, both Clark and Olivia suddenly stilled. Olivia glanced at Clark, then said, “I believe she—the witness—was afraid of retaliation. And I don’t think she was able to identify James as the killer until now.”

  “She?” Nathan asked. “The witness is a girl?”

  Olivia and Clark glanced at each other again. “Yes.”

  Then, looking around, Nathan suddenly noticed who was missing from the room. “Where’s Angel?” he asked.

  Her face pinched, Olivia answered, “We’re not sure. Clark left early this morning to fetch the sheriff, and when I woke this morning, she was already gone.”

  The pit of Nathan’s stomach dropped. “And my father is still out there?”

  Clark and Olivia’s silence was answer enough, and Nathan turned and ran out the door.

  As soon as he was outside, however, he stopped, directionless. Where would Angel have gone? He ran his hands through his hair, looking anxiously in both directions down the street, and let out a frustrated growl as his mind remained unhelpfully blank.

  Well, if nothing else, he had a good guess where his father would be. And if Nathan could find his father, he could make sure his father stayed away from Angel. With that thought to direct his steps, Nathan set out for the saloon.

  When he arrived at the saloon, it was nearly empty. The only person there was the bartender.

  “Has my father been in here?” Nathan asked, not bothering to clarify who his father was—he knew James was well-acquainted with the bartender. James had spent many hours in this saloon over the years.

  The bartender nodded. “The sheriff and his deputy came by and picked him up this morning. You can find him at the jail if you want—they are holding him there until the trial.”

  Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. If his father was already at the jail, he wouldn’t be able to harm Angel.

  “The trial,” Nathan asked, “when is it to be?”

  The bartender looked at him with a guarded expression, as though unsure how Nathan would react. “Well, it’s almost noon now, so here in about an hour.”

  “That’s sooner than I expected,” Nathan said slowly.

  The bartender shrugged. “I think they wanted to get it over with as soon as they could, knowing James and all.” He shot a glance at Nathan. “I’m sorry if I am giving you bad news.”

  Shaking his head, Nathan answered, glancing back at the bartender as he walked toward the exit. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You told me what I came here to find out, and I thank you for that.”

  ***

  Angel had gone to the cabin, hoping to see Nathan for two reasons. The first was James’s trial. Nathan had a right to know that his father was being brought in and that his father’s trial had already been scheduled for that same day. The second reason—the reason she kept pushed to the back of her mind—was that Angel wanted to tell Nathan the truth about his father and her baby before he heard it from someone else.

  She knew almost as soon as she arrived at the farm that Nathan was not there. The cabin’s windows were dark, and the mare was missing from the barn. Angel glanced anxiously up at the sun, noting its position in the sky. The trial would be starting soon. She would barely have enough time to make it to the courthouse if she left now, but there would be no time to look for Nathan once she arrived in town.

  There was no doubt in Angel’s mind that Nathan was already in town, or at least on his way to town, although she wasn’t sure how they could have missed each other on the road. The thought calmed Angel temporarily—she knew that if Nathan was in town, someone would have told him about the trial.

  And then with a chill that started from the inside and worked its way out, she was forced to remember her role in the trial. Angel had been able to push the thought aside, directing her energy toward finding Nathan to tell him about his father’s trial. Now, she was left with nothing to distract her from her secondary concern—telling Nathan the truth about his father and her baby before he learned it from someone else.

  I should have told Nathan as soon as I realized it was his father.

  Those were the words that ran, over and over again, through Angel’s mind as she rode back to town. She didn’t want to push the horse, or herself—her body had only just begun to feel like it was fully recovering from the baby’s delivery—so she s
ettled for a fast walk, growing more and more agitated as they drew nearer and nearer to town, as the appointed time for the trial edged closer and closer, and as she grew less and less sure she would make it to the courthouse in time, let alone with time to speak with Nathan beforehand.

  When she finally arrived at the courthouse, Angel was relieved to see that there were still a few stragglers entering the building. She slid off the horse and looped the reins around a hitching post, then fairly ran up the stairs and into the courtroom. As she entered, the judge looked disapprovingly at her flushed cheeks, and Angel found herself self-consciously smoothing her hair and the front of her dress as she looked around for Clark and Olivia and Nathan.

  They were sitting near the front of the courtroom. Olivia noticed Angel first and waved her over with a look of relief. Angel sat beside Olivia, looking across her to where Nathan sat.

  “Where have you been? We were worried,” Olivia hissed underneath the murmuring buzz of the room.

  At Olivia’s tone, Angel’s eyes hardened, and she struggled to keep the edge from her voice as she answered, “Worried about me? Or worried that I was planning to back out of my decision to testify against James?”

  Olivia’s expression softened, although the softness had a forced look about it, and the edge in her voice matched Angel’s own. “We were worried for you, Nathan especially. When he arrived at the house this morning and you weren’t there, he was terrified you would come across James and come to harm. He fairly ran from the house to look for you.”

  Still, Angel held Olivia’s gaze. Finally, Olivia tore her gaze away first. “I will not deny the thought had crossed my mind that you might have changed your mind about testifying,” she admitted, “but our first concern was for you.”

  Angel shook her head, then glanced to the side of the room where James sat. Calm. Relaxed. Confident. He caught her eye and winked. Angel jerked her gaze away from him and stared straight ahead at the front of the room, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “I apologize,” Angel said to Olivia, and Olivia relaxed. “I am . . .” Her voice trailed off and she tried to form the words to describe exactly what she was. Afraid? Uncertain? Scarcely able to breathe?