In the Arms of an Angel (Brides of the West Series Book Ten)

by Rita Hestand

  The way he wore that gun told her he was used to using it. Something flitted through her mind, was he an outlaw? Or maybe a lawman? Somehow she hoped he wasn't an outlaw. It wouldn't do for Frankie to be around an outlaw. He was a typical boy and outlaws were a lot more exciting than lawmen. Naturally he'd leave as soon as he healed up enough.

  She went about her daily chores of putting something on for supper, cleaning the house, and doing some sewing. As she worked on her sewing, that she got paid for, she sat in the bedroom with the man, in case he woke up. She'd glance at him every now and then. He was quite handsome. She wondered why she even noticed, but it was the truth.

  Frankie came in that afternoon from school breathless. It was late spring and the weather was just beginning to heat up.

  "Why are you so out of breath?" Anna asked when she saw him.

  "I ran most of the way home."

  "Why?" Anna asked.

  "He come around yet, Ma?"

  "No, not yet." Frankie was eager to find out about him too.

  "What are we gonna do with him when he does?"

  "Do with him?" She chuckled. "Why son, we aren't going to do anything with him. As soon as he can I'm sure he'll be on his way. I'm sure the only reason he stopped off here was the storm."

  "Maybe he came to save us. Mabye somebody told him we needed a gunman to help us keep our land."

  "We don't need a gunman. We need a miracle," She mumbled now.

  "Maybe he is our miracle, Ma."

  "Frankie, don't get your hopes up, son. It'll do no good. This man just wandered into our barn first of all because he was shot, and second because that was one bad storm to try and travel in. That's all."

  Anna snickered. "Don't count on him being our miracle. He's just a drifter that came in from the storm. That's all he is."

  She had supper nearly ready and checked on the man, but he still slept. She decided to leave him alone because the more he rested the better he would feel.

  Her and Frankie ate supper that night at the table. Frankie kept glancing at the man. "Aren't we gonna wake him up to eat?"

  "He needs rest right now, let him sleep. He'll be starved when he wakes up, though."

  That night, she slept in her chair again and Frankie made his pallet on the floor once more. They talked quietly and finally went to sleep.

  Only the morning sun woke her as it streamed through the thin curtains with a soft morning breeze and she reached to feel the stranger's forehead. He was very hot.

  Frankie came in the room. "How is he, Ma?"

  "He's got a fever. Poor that dirty water out for me, will ya hon, and get some fresh cool water so I can bath his face and neck." She told him. "We've got to get the fever down now."

  Frankie brought it back in a few minutes with a sponge and she wiped the stranger with it, wetting his head, cheeks and neck. His shirt was open partially and she dabbed there too.

  The man roused. His eyes opened and he looked around finally. It was obvious he wasn't focused yet, from the way he kept blinking.

  Anna felt sorry for the man. He didn't recognize anything, and she knew he must feel strange in someone else's bed.

  "Where in the hell am I?" He asked when he spotted Frankie and nothing familiar.

  "You are in our home," Anna answered politely.

  He turned his head and saw her once more, her and the chair. He vaguely remembered her.

  He reached for his gun, but it wasn't there.

  "What did you do with my gun?" He demanded to know as his hand reached for it, quickly.

  "We put it on the dresser. I didn't think you would need it for a while." She explained.

  "I always need it, ma'am." He frowned.

  "Get his gun, Frankie, and be careful." She ordered.

  Frankie took the gun from the dresser and walked it slowly over to the stranger. The way he did it made Les aware that he knew the dangers.

  "Don't you ever point that at my Ma again!" He said with a wrinkled frown. Anna nearly chuckled, but was so proud of him for sticking up for her.

  At first Les frowned, but as he thought on it, he seemed to appreciate the warning.

  Les stared at the boy a long moment, then broke out in a slow smile. "I certainly won't, son."

  Anna smiled at her son and the stranger. He might be a gunman, he might even be an outlaw, but he had some manners about him. She liked that. He couldn't be all bad, she reasoned.

  There was a knock at the door, and Anna closed the bedroom door, "Don't mention that Les Harper is in our bedroom, you hear me." She instructed her son.

  Frankie nodded.

  It was Mr. Harvey. Frankie answered the door, and smiled. "Hi Mr. Harvey."

  "Frankie, everything okay over here since that storm blew in?" He asked.

  Anna heard him and answered, "We got some limbs down, but other than that everything seems alright. How about you?"

  "Aw…took part of my shingles on the roof off. I'll have to make some repairs on my barn door, but other than that, not much. I just finished checking around the place." He said and joined her at the table. He noticed the bedroom door closed and glanced at her.

  Knowing he was curious she explained. "My bedroom is a mess, got sewing all over my bed."

  "I heard you were taking in some sewing. How's that working out for you?" The man smiled confidently.

  "Actually good. I got two more dresses to make, one of the girls at church is getting married and she wanted a couple of new dresses to take on her honeymoon." Anna explained.

  "Carol Upton, no doubt."

  "That's right. She's getting married on Saturday you know."

  "Yes, I was invited to the wedding, but it looks as though I'll be busy cleaning my place up. I'm sure they won't miss me."

  "Would you care for a cup of coffee?" She glanced at him, and noticed the worry wrinkle on his forehead.

  "That would be nice, still gets a might cold at night." Mr. Harvey smiled at her. "If you like I can come over in a couple of days and get those branches and stuff picked up for you."

  "Oh, well, that's alright, we can probably manage."

  "No trouble. I'll bring my wagon and haul it home chop it up for firewood for you."

  Anna rubbed the top of her coffee cup. "Mr. Harvey," she wanted to be as tactful as possible, but she had to get her message across to him too. "Frankie and I can take care of things. I've told you that. You'd done a lot to help us out. And believe me, I'm grateful, but I wish you wouldn't bother yourself about us so much."

  He flashed her a big smile. "It's no bother, no bother at all. Everyone needs a little help now and then. We're neighbors, and I want to help." He insisted. "It's the Christian thing to do."

  "Do you offer help to your other neighbors?" She asked eyeing him with precision.

  "Well, I try to, yes, but most of the other folks have menfolk around to help them. You don’t. That's why I'm always asking you if I can help out."

  "Fine, but wait until the weekend, Frankie will be out of school and can help you."

  "Alright, I'll be over Saturday bright and early. And if you have one of those famous lemon pies of yours, I'd appreciate it."

  Anna couldn't stop the smile, "Lemon pie it is."

  "Good." He stirred cream and sugar in his coffee, then leaned back so he could look at her now. "Anna…I've asked you twice, I don't want to keep askin'. But if you'd just marry me, all this land trouble you got would go away." Mr. Harvey said softly, reaching for her hand. "I hate that Mr. Ledbetter is trying to push you off this land. It isn't fair, but if we married, all your troubles would be over."

  Anna firmed her lips and looked at their hands. He was doing it again, and she frankly didn't know how to stop the man. She'd told him no, and he didn't take that as final. He was a very handsome older man, clean, and neat, with thick blond hair and green eyes. His smile took ten years off him.

  "Perhaps I'm being rather foolish, but marriage is for folks in love, Mr. Harvey…"

  He pulled his
tie out a little as he stretched his neck. Obviously uncomfortable with her refusal to listen to reason, he stared at her, rubbing the top of her hand sinuously. "Well now, Anna, since you brought it up…"

  Anna was uncomfortable talking about this. She moved her hand quickly away from his. "Love is not the only reason. There are many, one of which is the graves of my child's father and mother…what would happen to them if we moved away from here? I certainly wouldn't fancy digging them up and moving them nor letting Mr. Ledbetter's cow trample them."

  "Well, I don't know. I'm sorry, I hadn't thought of that. I suppose that does weigh heavy on your thoughts. And Frankie's. Perhaps we could move them to my place…if that's all that is holding you back."

  "I'm afraid that would be too much. You don't seem to understand, this land, it rightfully belongs to Frankie. It was all his folks could leave him. If I gave it up without a fight, I'd regret that all my life. It's up to me, to see he gets what is rightfully his. I want Frankie to have all he's entitled to. I buried Mark here, that's what he wanted. Right beside Frankie's birth mother. The boy has roots here, Mr. Harvey. Deep roots. You can't move roots and expect them to live. But it's a major concern for Frankie. I don't think you understand. This was their place. It should be his. I can't let it go that easy. I can't not fight for what is rightfully his…."

  "Well I…"

  "And as I told you before….and I know this sounds cold and callus, but I must be bluntly honest. I'm not in love with you, Mr. Harvey and I won't marry again, without it."

  Frankie had gone outside to check on the horses and came running back inside.

  It was hard to stop mid-sentence in an emotional admission, but she had to for Frankie's sake.

  "Did you check their feed and water?" Anna asked him, trying to distract Mr. Harvey.

  "Yes ma'am." Frankie nodded.

  Mr. Harvey looked from Frankie to Anna. "See, if you lived with me, he wouldn't have to work so hard. Have you thought about that?"

  "Please don't pressure me right now…" Anna muttered under her breath. "I just don't need any more pressure right now."

  "Alright Anna, I'll see you Saturday then." He drank the last of his coffee and got up to leave. "But you think on it, you hear? It's time you was movin' on with your life, and Frankie can have a new life, with us."

  "I hear…and you're very generous to offer."

  Mr. Harvey left finally.

  Anna leaned back in her chair, as though mentally exhausted from telling him no.

  Frankie looked at her distraught face and came to hold her hand. "Was he mad about something?"

  Anna tried to calm herself, but the pressure Mr. Harvey put on her about marriage disturbed her. Twice marriage had been forced upon her and now Mr. Harvey kept driving home his points. All of which made good sense except for one detail. She didn't love him, and if she ever married again, it would be because she loved someone.

  When she was a young girl her parents had made a contract for marriage for her. A Jewish marriage. She had no choice in the matter and at eighteen she was supposed to marry a man she barely knew. That marriage never took place, and she was relieved. But then Mark came along, with another proposition for her that she couldn't refuse. So she married him, without love, because he told her he loved his dead wife and always would.

  Perhaps many women married without the benefit of love, but she vowed to herself that she would never marry again without it. And she knew one thing for sure, she didn't love Mr. Harvey.

  Chapter Four

  Les Harper studied the intricate patterns of the wall paper. He glanced at the beautiful glass lamp on the table near his bed. He noted the homemade quilt over his body. All these things were strange, but strangely appreciated too. The place was really homey. He hadn't had the pleasure of nice things like this since he was a kid. This house was different than any he'd ever been in though. The dresser was short, the bed was too, since he'd thrown a foot over the bed and reached the floor before he knew it. It had so many little things that made it look homey and nice. He'd have sworn it belonged to a rich doctor, if he didn't know better.

  But the woman that nursed him was just like the house, plain and yet somehow strangely beautiful. He couldn't explain that either. He couldn't remember the last time he thought a woman was beautiful. When she smiled that shy smile, it lit the room. When she spoke her voice was lilting. And her touch was as tender as a mother.

  Suddenly, his world was totally different than anything he'd ever known. A quiet, unassuming woman, with a well behaved child was tending him.

  Where was he? How'd he get here. So many questions danced in his head. He felt an urge to leave here, and he didn't even know why. It would all come back soon, he was sure of it. He felt his head and realized he had a good size lump on the back of his head too. When had that happened?

  The young boy that came into his room early in the mornings and later in the afternoons was smart, and hardy. He was used to hard work, and not one to complain. Les liked that about the kid. He didn't normally take to kids.

  But how had he gotten here, what had happened to him? He remembered traveling in the storm, how it had turned cold and miserable. He remembered being shot, yet he hadn't seen who done it. But he remembered little else. Had he intentionally blocked it all out? He didn’t' think so.

  But then right now, he couldn't be sure of anything.

  As far as he could remember, he was a reasonable man, and decent.

  Surely in time, he'd remember it all. But right now, his head was a bit fuzzy and it was enough to know that he was safe and his leg had been tended.

  However, when he tried to get up and stand on his leg he passed out on the bed again. The black void was welcome to ease the pain and confusion.

  He struggled to stay awake now. It just wasn't going to happen, were his last thoughts.

  The next morning he woke up and it hit him. He had their money! They'd be out to get him. He glanced around the room, reached for his gun and stared at the ceiling. He had to get out of here and fast. He needed to see if the money was still where he put it. Where was his gun? Where was he? He jerked himself in a sitting position and felt dizzy and laid back down. Maybe he wouldn't try that again for a while.

  He glanced in the kitchen, he saw her again. She was making coffee it looked like and she hadn't turned her chair around. He stared for a full minute. She was a tiny thing too. Almost dainty.

  He was putting these good people in danger, and he needed to get away, before they caught up to him.

  Strange he hadn't seen her husband around.

  He kept cursing under his breath. He still wasn't strong enough to make it. And he needed to be.

  "Want some coffee?" A sweet voice shocked him awake once more.

  He roused, trying to move but finding it hard with his leg aching so.

  "That would be good, thank you." Les remembered his manners. He wouldn't complain, this woman had removed the bullet, sheltered him, gave him food. Or had she given him food? He couldn't remember. His belly felt attached to his backbone he was so hungry. No, he wouldn't complain.

  But he had to hurry and heal.

  "I'll get it." The woman moved to the doorway, "I'm glad you are finally awake. I've got biscuits and bacon if you'd like."

  "I would. I feel mighty empty, and I guess I need a little strength to get up and around. How…how long have I been out?" He asked, a frown marring his handsome face.

  "Two days. You needed the rest." The woman smiled.

  "Did you…get the bullet out? I mean…you?" He raised his hands behind his head.

  "Yes, I got it out. And after getting your fever down, I think you are going to live." She smiled.

  God, her smile curled around his heart like a warm blanket. It was strange how a smile could do that to another. That smile could melt the coldest of hearts. She was beautiful when she smiled. How could he have thought her plain. She reminded him of an angel.

  Angel? What did he know about angels.
He had to quit thinking like a man, and start thinking like the lawman he was. Lawman! My God he was a lawman! A lawman in a lot of trouble. He had to get out of here, but how? He couldn't get his leg off the bed anymore. He didn't like this helpless feeling one bit!

  He stared at her as she worked in the kitchen to bring him some coffee. Even crippled, she could fend for herself. The fact that she was the one that dug the bullet out made him more determined to get away. They didn't need more troubles.

  But his eyes kept straying to her. It was downright odd. She had mousy brown hair that was curling and frizzed, her warm brown eyes seemed to look straight through to his soul. She was small and dainty looking and yet even though she was crippled, she got around her house like any other woman. Her home was clean and well cared for. Her son had manners and was smart. She was what Les considered a handsome woman in more ways than one. He never thought he'd admire a crippled lady. Yet somehow thinking of her as crippled didn't fit her either. She was quite a capable woman.

  And he wouldn't be calling her that either. Not after she took the bullet out of his leg.

  Of course he'd never known a crippled lady before. He wondered if she'd been born that way. He had better manners than to ask.

  He had to distract himself from her though. He had troubles and right now they did too and they didn't know it. Somehow he had to find a way to get out of this place.

  He raised up in the bed, wondering how long it would be before he could use that leg. How long before he could ride.

  She brought his coffee into him on a tray, on her lap. She rolled her chair right up to his bedside and handed him the tray. She wasn't bashful or shy about approaching him, he liked that.

  He liked the fact that she didn't scare easily.

  "Thank you. I'm sorry to bother you."

  "No bother." She said sweetly.

  "Look, I really need to be on my way…" He bit into the biscuit after he put the bacon between the layers. Her biscuits were light and fluffy and it tasted like heaven to him now.

  She eyed him a moment. "Are you running from the law?"

  He studied her, especially her soft warm brown eyes. She hadn't sounded scared one way or another.