“I don’t see how I can help you with that.”
“Not with that, but I wanted to let you know we’ll be needing to get the deed to her land after the doctor makes the death official.”
Angel cringed when the beady-eyed man looked down his nose at her.
“I’m sorry, but your husband removed the deed from his box a few months ago when he and Cleve—I mean, Mr. Moran—drew up their agreement.”
“He and I were to meet here today to make arrangements to settle the debt owed on the Double R.”
“Mr. Moran received a telegram this morning. He left on the early train.”
“Did he say where he’s headed or when he’ll return?”
“I believe he’s visiting family at his home in Chicago.”
“I see.”
Suddenly, what had started out as an adventurous, light-hearted day turned sour on Angel’s stomach. Running away might be cowardly, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do.
Gripping the arms of her chair, she seethed with contempt at her dead husband and the situation he’d ultimately put her in, and resentment at her new husband for unwittingly throwing her in the path of disdain. In his attempts to help her through her difficult situation, he was continually digging up secrets and telling her what to do. For her entire life, she’d been at someone else’s mercy. That ended today.
Angel stood, back straight, head high, packages in hand and walked out of the bank. Remembering her late father’s reprimands and Helmut’s head-shaking when she’d shown any signs of independence gave her pause because she didn’t have a plan. But that was all right. Starting now, she was taking control of her own life.
* * *
Jamey climbed into the wagon beside Angel. He didn't know what, but something happened at the bank just as it had at Krutchmeyer's General Store. Whatever that something had been was subtle, though. He'd noticed the looks Angel had received and, once again, found the back-biting and empty formalities of living in a town disgusting. His family had been the recipient of such looks in Ireland before they left for America.
From the time he'd arrived here two days ago, there'd been a shift in her demeanor and attitude. He found he liked this Angel much more than the subdued, contrite woman he'd witnessed before. This Angel, without saying a word, appeared stronger, braver, and more in control. Obviously he didn't know what had happened to bring on the change in her but, depending on how forthcoming she might be, he intended to find out why the people in this town shunned her.
He picked up the reins and slapped them against the horses' rumps. That, he decided, could wait a couple of days. There were preparations to make for this evening and tomorrow. It was, after all, Christmas.
CHAPTER SIX
Jamey set the wood crates, loaded with household supplies, on the porch and then took the horses and wagon to the barn. Once they'd been fed and watered, he carried the provisions into the main room of the cabin and set them on the floor.
Angel was already busy putting away the contents of the smaller packages she'd taken in ahead of him. She got right to emptying the crates, ignoring him as if he wasn't in the county, much less in the same room. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the bank and it appeared she didn't care to entertain any conversation in the near future.
“After I build the fire, can I put the rest of the supplies away for ye?”
“No.” She stopped and faced him. “Why would you offer to do that?”
“I used to do that for my ma and sister.” In spite of her new found independent streak, Jamey stood his ground. “I thought if ye'd show me where ye like to put things then the next trip I'd be more help.”
“You've been enough help today. I can do this myself.”
He stood there, frowning, as she went about her business. She'd effectively shut him down with a look and a few words. But then his frown changed to a grin. He'd been put in his place a few times before but usually by burly miners or drovers. She'd soon find it would take more than a female with a pretty face and a stubborn streak wider than the Chisolm Trail to scare him off. He had a sister. He could return stubborn in spades.
Buttoning up his coat, he stomped out the door and off the porch into the heavy north wind. Snow had started to fall and he wanted to check around the cabin before dark to make sure all was secure. The almanac in the feed store predicted the coldest temperatures on record for the next few days.
He snooped around the barn to see what might be stored out of sight. His search revealed tools and various farming implements, along with a trunk. When he opened the lid, he found household linens and trinkets. Tucked into one corner were assorted decorations, including glass balls, reminding him again that today was Christmas Eve.
Suddenly, he had an idea. The task would be a bit of work, but shouldn't take too long. He set the items by the barn door, grabbed a saw, saddled Rusty and rode out. If his plan worked like he hoped, he'd soon be back at the cabin with a surprise for his new bride.
* * *
Angel dropped into the nearest chair after he closed the door resting her head in the crook of her arm. Finally, she had time to think about the day and the events as they'd unfolded.
Finding out about Will's lies and deceit over the last few months had dealt her a blow. Other than him telling her he needed a companion to help him work on his ranch, had he ever been truthful with her? From the day they’d been introduced by their friend, Calliope Thorne, she'd known theirs would be a marriage of convenience, but she'd hoped they would come to love each other in time. He was older than she, decidedly younger than Helmut and her father, but fifteen years was still a gap. Apparently, what had started out as kindness and concern had changed with his financial situation.
The idea occurred to her that Will had not only given over the deed for his land to Moran, but he'd handed her over as well. He'd turned over all his possessions to his enemy. In the end, she'd been nothing more than property to Will Rivers.
As devastating as that revelation was, the fact remained she found herself in the same situation. For the third time she'd been forced into a position to secure her survival, married to a man not of her choosing. Oh how she wished she’d been able to see Calliope, while she’d been in town. Angel might have cried if there'd been any tears left. Fortunately, she was cried out.
Unbidden, her childhood friend, Cissie, popped into her mind. Angel remembered their long talks out behind their houses. They'd lie on blankets at night, looking up at the stars and planning their lives. Such big dreams they’d had between the two of them. They were each going to marry, have five children, and live next door to one other always. Cissie had married a boy down the street, Brandt Howard, and had one child with another on the way according to her last letter.
And what did she have? Nothing. No home. No family. No place to go. What she had, on the surface, looked to be a big, fat jumbled mess. Despair pulled at her like children tugging on a rag doll. Oh how she wished Cissie lived closer instead of several states away.
Abruptly, Cissie's voice pushed its way into her thoughts. Angel, what is wrong with you? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and take control of your own destiny. You are smart and strong and have the power to salvage your situation. Remember what my mama used to say. Formulate the plan and then implement the plan.
She had forgotten. Whenever they'd had a problem growing up, Mrs. Harold always imparted little nuggets of wisdom for encouragement.
Angel raised her head, sat up in her chair, and took a deep breath. Her spirits lifted with the knowledge her friend supported her even if it was only in her thoughts and memories. She could do this.
The sound of booted feet clomped onto the porch followed by a knock. Startled, she stood, grabbed her pistol from the fireplace mantle, and rushed to the window. All she could see was tree limbs. She didn't know who was at her door, but she refused to open it to any stranger. Look at the madness the last stranger had brought.
“Who's there?” she called out. She reasoned
her new husband had no need to knock. He'd simply open the door and come in.
“It's Jamey,” he shouted. “Open up and give me a hand.”
She did as he asked and found herself face to face with a cedar tree. Shoving the pistol into her skirt pocket, she grabbed a handful of branches and pulled as he pushed to bring the tree inside.
After she'd closed the door against the chilled outside air, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Why on earth would you cut down a tree?”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” He stepped back onto the porch and brought in a familiar box. Handing it to her, he smiled. “I thought ye'd like to decorate.”
“I haven't—I mean, I don't—it's just that—”
He’d stunned her with the tree and his offer to celebrate Christmas. Silently, she set the box onto the table. Truth be known, this was her favorite time of year but, due to the circumstances, she hadn’t celebrated in a couple of years. Her last Christmas had been shared with Cissie and her family. She lifted the top of the box to reveal a few of the items she’d managed to pack from her previous life.
Picking up a small silver ornament in the shape of a pinecone, she thought back to the last time she'd seen it. Her fingers traced the delicate contours of the design.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “These ornaments belonged to my mother and grandmother. They brought them on the ship from the old country. This little pinecone was Mama's first one. I didn't know they survived the trip across the Red River. Where did you find them?”
“They were in a trunk out in the barn behind hay bales and farm equipment. Ye didn't know they were there?”
“No. I'm sure Will mentioned he put the trunk there. But it's been over a year, so I guess I just forgot.”
She looked at a couple of other treasures, replaced them and pushed the box away from the edge of the table. Here was yet another example of her gullibility and naivety. She trusted too easily.
“Did you happen to notice what else was in the trunk?” She hated to ask, afraid to hear what he’d say, but needed to know.
“Bedroom and kitchen linens, ladies things and these.”
“Is there any jewelry or silver service?”
“I didn’t go diggin’ too deep, though now that I think on it, the contents were none too organized.” He took a seat across from her. “What aren’t ye tellin’ me, Angel?”
Fingers interlaced, she tightened her grip and looked toward the window. She was back to the trust issue and she had a decision to make. What she was thinking could destroy a man’s memory.
Meeting Jamey’s intense gaze, she said, “Will didn’t tell me he brought the trunk here. I thought it was still stored at the hotel. In the beginning, he told me either he forgot to pick it up or the wagon was full and he’d get my belongings the next trip into town. He would get so agitated, I finally stopped asking.”
“What happened?”
“Helmut and I came with a wagon train from Ohio to Texas to join Helmut’s family in Boerne. It had rained heavily for a few days and the river was over its banks. Even though we waited for the level to go down, the current was too strong and our wagon overturned. While trying to save us, Helmut had a heart attack and died.
The wagon master told me he’d store my belongings at the hotel once we made it to Denison.”
“Helmut was your . . .”
“He was my first husband.”
“I see.” He rested his hand on top hers.
“I had very little money and could only afford to stay at the hotel a few days. I found a job at the café where I met Calliope Thorne. She gave me a place to stay.”
“That’s when you met Will.”
“Yes, after a time.” Uncomfortable with the touching, she pulled her hands from his. She also decided she’d shared all the dirty laundry she cared to for today.
She needed time to figure out what Will's motives were for lying to her apparently about everything during their time together. Had he ever been honest?
And what was behind Jamey O'Donnell's kindnesses? Was he purposely deceiving her, too, for his own motives?
She needed answers to these questions in order to get her life on track and to achieve her independence. From now on, she promised herself and Cissie, she would be in control. No one, including Mr. O'Donnell, would take advantage of her again.
Forcing a smile, she stood. “Now, where are we going to put this tree?”
* * *
Jamey had thought it odd she wouldn't remember the trunk being stored in the barn. After all, the contents meant so much to her. But hearing Will had lied to her made him wonder even more what had happened with his friend and why he’d waited so long to reach out.
But Angel was right to put the discussion aside. The whole point of the tree had been to put a smile on her face and hopefully improve her mood. She'd been sad and quiet since they’d left the bank. The smile he received, though, looked more like the masks he’d seen at Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
“What about in the front corner by the window?” He dragged the tree over so she could see what it would look like. “I can anchor it to the wall here. What do you think?”
“That's fine.” Her answer was short, but its tone had a tinge of approval.
“Good.”
Half an hour later, Jamey had the tree firmly planted in a bucket full of ashes from the fireplace. Twine looped around its midpoint anchored it to the wall. Snow fell from the limbs onto the floor as he shook the trunk to check for stability. When he was satisfied the tree was stable, he stepped back to take a look.
“There.”
Angel appeared beside him with the pinecone ornament. Holding it by the hook, she hung it onto a limb, front and center. Obviously pleased with the placement, she strategically hung the remaining ornaments and decorations and admired her handiwork.
“Oh, that's lovely.”
“Ye've done a fine job,” he agreed. His stomach grumbled and he remembered they hadn't eaten since breakfast. “Say, did ye open the brown paper-wrapped package I brought in?”
“No, should I have?”
“Not necessarily, but it's dark out and a bit past supper time.” He snipped the twine holding the paper around several boxes. “I stopped by the hotel kitchen and purchased enough food to last us a few days.”
“This smells heavenly,” she said, as she sniffed the mouth-watering aromas wafting from the packages. “How about I put the contents into the warming oven while we put the rest of the things away? Then we'll eat.”
“That's all the convincing I need.” Smiling, he set about restoring order to the cabin. He didn't have to win the war today. Small accomplishments would do fine.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Angel dried her hands on a cup towel and put away the last dish. She found it interesting she was tired but not yet ready to go to bed. Jamey sat at the table sharpening the carving knife, so she poured them both a cup of coffee and joined him.
She wished he'd stop being nice. His being helpful made it hard for her to maintain the tough shell she needed to survive on her own. Her grandmother's stern raising kept her from being rude.
“Thank you for doing that,” she said, breaking the silence that continued after supper. “I hadn't realized how dull it was. Guess I've gotten used to it.”
He chuckled. “It did sort of chew the ham into chunks, didn't it?” He tested the edge's sharpness with his thumb. Apparently satisfied with the results, he wiped the oil from the knife and dried the sharpening stone, placing it back into his saddle bag. Rejoining her at the table, he sipped at the hot coffee and asked, “I always thought Will preferred to be off by himself. How'd ye end up married to him?”
“That's none of your business.”
He shook his head. “I'm not meanin' to pry, Colleen. Just makin' conversation.”
But it felt like prying no matter what he said. The only way to stop talking about it, though, was to get everything out in the open and be done. He des
erved to know what he’d gotten himself into.
“My life since crossing the Red River has not been what I'd hoped. When I was forced out of the hotel, I had no place to go. That’s when I met Calliope. She owned the café that fed the drovers and railroaders and gave me a job and, as I said, a place to stay.”
“That was kind of her. She sounds like a good woman.”
“She is and I treasure our friendship, but Calliope isn’t welcome in certain town circles and her reputation transcended to me.”
“Ah.” Jamey raised his chin in understanding. “Miss Thorne is a lady of the evening.”
“Yes, but not only that, she’s a smart business woman, too. She owns the business and the café.”
“Angel, you don’t have to sell me. She helped you and that’s enough.”
“Oh . . . well, it wasn’t long before Calliope introduced me to Will.” She looked him squarely in the eye. “I guess that brings you up to date. I’m afraid, Jamey O’Donnell, you’ve stepped into a sticky situation but you’re at least prepared if Mrs. Krutchmeyer goes through with her threat to expose my reputation to you.”
“I wondered what she was sayin’ to ye when I walked up beside ye.”
She wrapped her hands around the cup and examined the contents. “I’ll understand if you want me to leave.”
He stood and moved his cup to the drain board. “There’ll be no talk of leavin’, Colleen. I don’t put much stock in other’s opinions.”
Then he did something that took her by surprise. He came to her, pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. He simply held her in a tight embrace. She was hard pressed to remember the last time she’d been held like this. Her arms settled around his waist and she drew comfort and strength from his warmth.
Easing his hold on her, he looked down at her and asked, “Do you need anything before I turn in?”
More of this. Afraid to say the words out loud, she answered, “No, I don't.”
Angel and the Texan From County Cork (The Brides of Texas Code Series Book 3) Page 4