The Bride of Willow Creek

by Maggie Osborne

  An hour later, Angie slipped her plate into the dirty dishes tub, then wandered to a spot near the bandstand where she could see down the length of Carr Street. It surprised her that she knew everyone and knew them well, in fact. She had seen their laundry flapping on the line, had smelled their suppers. She had overheard a few arguments, had observed some hasty kisses. She knew who yelled at their children and who didn’t. Who kept an immaculate house and who could tolerate a bit of dust and clutter. Sometimes she felt as if she had known these folks all of her life.

  Molly had said, Your girls.

  Her gaze swung toward the group of children following Andrew Morgan as he lit the torches up and down the street.

  Your girls.

  The simple words and not-so-simple emotions tightened Angie’s throat and chest. What should have been a happy and relaxed, if bittersweet evening was turning into something else for her.

  It was a relief to hear a burst of music from the bandstand. When she turned, she saw Sam standing under a line of swinging lanterns, sawing a bow across his fiddle strings. His tie and jacket had vanished, and he’d rolled up his sleeves. He stepped to the edge of the platform, winked at her, then bowed slightly and played a jig that she knew was just for her.

  Amazed and delighted, Angie clapped her hands as others drifted toward the bandstand. Sam had told her he could play a fiddle, but she’d had no idea he meant he could play like this.

  Molly appeared beside her. “Lordy, that man can make a fiddle sing, can’t he?” She grabbed Angie and they dipped and skipped and twirled and danced in front of the bandstand until they were breathless and holding their sides. Then Reverend Dryfus and his missus spun past doing a polka step, while the audience clapped and toetapped and shouted encouragement.

  On stage, Dick Juniper swung his fiddle under his chin and faced off with Sam, both of them playing furiously. At the end of the tune, both fiddlers lowered their instruments and grinned at each other, then bowed to the crowd who applauded wildly.

  Before the evening ended, the composition had changed half a dozen times on the bandstand. Sometimes there was an accordion or a mouth harp or a banjo, sometimes only fiddles. The only time the music stopped was for a speech singing the praises of Cannady and Molly Johnson and wishing them well in their new wealthy life. Then Cannady stepped up on the bandstand and said how he and Molly would miss everyone and that everyone was invited to a party at their mansion in Denver as soon as it was built.

  Along about midnight the torches began to sputter. All the desserts were gone, along with the beer and lemonade. People sought out Can and Molly for a few words, then drifted toward their homes, carrying empty potluck dishes and small sleeping children draped over shoulders.

  Angie smothered a yawn and smiled at Lucy and Daisy, who could hardly keep their eyes open.

  “Papa, can we dance tomorrow?” Daisy murmured, leaning against Sam’s leg.

  “If that isn’t just like a pretty girl. Making a man wait.”

  “Let’s tell Can and Molly that we’ll talk to them in the morning. It’s late,” Angie suggested.

  But Molly wouldn’t hear of it. “You’ll be busy cleaning up from the party tomorrow, and then Can and I are going to start packing. We aren’t taking much with us, just some dishes, clothing, personal items.” The diamond brooch swung from the homemade crown as she looked back and forth between Angie and Sam. “Please?”

  They glanced at each other, then Angie nodded. “Let us get the girls to bed, then we’ll run over for a few minutes.”

  “Good. I’ll boil up some coffee.”

  By the time they went next door, the street was dark and only a few lights still glowed in the houses along Carr Street.

  Sam yawned, then dropped an arm over Angie’s shoulders. “Just one cup of coffee then we’ll go, all right? Dawn is going to come awful early. Besides, I’ve said my good-byes to Can, and I imagine you’ve said your good-byes to Molly.”

  Angie and Molly had exchanged small mementos to remember each other by, had wept and promised to stay in touch. Denver wasn’t too far to visit. And because of Can’s continuing interest at the mine, he and Molly would return to Willow Creek from time to time. But Molly’s departure would leave a hole in Angie’s mornings. Until very recently she hadn’t realized how often she ran next door for a cup of coffee or a word of advice.

  As they went in the back door, Molly gave them mugs of coffee and waved them to the kitchen table. She’d removed her apron and taken off her diamonds. Can had rolled up his shirt sleeves and loosened his suspenders.

  “It was a nice party,” Angie said. “I don’t think there was a scrap of food left.”

  Sam blew on his coffee and nodded. “Hugo’s pig sure went fast. Did the guests of honor get any before it was gone?”

  “We certainly do appreciate everything,” Can said, “but we didn’t ask you here to talk about the party.” He gave Molly a look. “You tell them.”

  Molly brushed imaginary crumbs off the oilcloth, then studied Sam and Angie’s curious expressions. “You know how much we think of your girls. We couldn’t care more for them if they was our own flesh and blood.”

  It was a nice thing to say, so Angie didn’t understand why Sam suddenly sat up straight and stiffened.

  “We know how hard you’ve struggled to meet the court’s conditions, and the setbacks you’ve suffered. We know about the fires, and we have our suspicions as to who’s responsible for that piece of trouble.”

  Now Angie sat up straighter. Something was going on here. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt a prickle of tension that she’d never sensed with Can and Molly. Sam and Can held each other’s gaze and a scowl had begun between Sam’s eyes.

  Molly also noticed the scowl, hesitated, then hurried on. “I had a little speech prepared, but . . . Well, the long and the short of it is this. We’d like to pay for Daisy’s operation.”

  Angie started. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened then overflowed with tears. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Molly, you and Can are angels. You’re a miracle.”

  “We can certainly afford to do it. We love those girls like our own. And we think it would be a travesty to yank Lucy and Daisy away from their parents and give them to the Govenors.”

  There it was again. Even in the midst of overwhelming joy, Angie noticed that Molly included her. She had said parents.

  “I can’t believe it. Bless you both. This is the most wonderful thing I ever heard of!”

  “I got nothing against Winnie Govenor. She means well. But I don’t think Winnie is particularly cut out for parenting. And I also think children should be raised by young people. We sure as shooting don’t want to see those girls go to a man who’d start fires to ruin the father of his granddaughters.”

  Now Can leaned forward, his gaze holding Sam’s. “We don’t want you to lose your daughters.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Tears of joy and relief flooded Angie’s cheeks. Her chest expanded as if an iron corset had fallen away, and a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders. “You’ve saved us. You’ve solved everything.” Gratefully, she accepted the handkerchief that Molly pushed into her hand. “Oh thank heaven. How can we ever repay you?”

  “Then you’ll accept our gift?” Can asked.

  “Of course. A thousand times, yes,” Angie gasped, sobbing with happiness.

  Sam’s voice was low and firm. “No.”

  Chapter 18

  The coffee bubbling on Molly’s stove sounded loud and cheerful, at odds with the tension at the table.

  “Sam! What are you saying?” Angie stared in disbelief. It was as if she had never seen him before. “You can’t mean that!”

  Knots ran up Sam’s jawline and his voice was as stiff as his spine. “Thank you, Can, Molly, but I can’t accept your generous gift.”

  Can fell back in his chair and frowned at Molly. “What did I tell you?”

  “Sam Holland, don’t be a stubborn damned f
ool.” Molly glared, then swung a stare to Angie. “Talk some sense to that man.”

  “Sam? Please. What are you doing?” Anguish thinned her voice. “We’re going to lose the girls!”

  “I told you I have a plan.”

  She didn’t want to make a scene in front of Can and Molly, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her voice spiraled sharply upward. “When do you intend to put this mysterious plan in motion? We’re running out of time.” Harsh, angry words scalded the back of her tongue, wanting to be said. But that would make the situation worse. She swallowed with difficulty and pleaded instead. “Sam, please, I’m begging you. We’re all begging you. Let Can and Molly do this for Daisy. For heaven’s sake, let them help us.”

  “Would help be more acceptable if we offered you a loan instead of a gift?” Molly’s appeal was equally agitated.

  Sam placed his hands on the table and slowly curled them into fists. “A gift or a loan wouldn’t violate the letter of the law,” he said finally, his voice expressionless. “But it violates the spirit of the law.”

  Angie didn’t care about splitting hairs. She cared about keeping the girls. “Sam. In the name of heaven, think about this. Think about what’s best for Lucy and Daisy.”

  Sam raised his head. “Laura gave me her daughters because she believed I would be a good and decent father. I would raise them and care for them and love them.” Tilting his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “The court defined what makes a good and decent father. The definition is that a good and decent father would fix his daughter’s crippled foot within a year’s time.”

  “Oh Sam.” The whispered words floated on a breath of despair. She knew how his mind worked, and what he was thinking.

  “I agreed that definition was reasonable. I still do.” Lowering his head, he examined the faces staring back at him. “If I can’t pay for Daisy’s operation myself . . . if I can’t or won’t do whatever is necessary to fix Daisy’s foot . . . then I deserve to lose my daughters. Then they deserve better than me.”

  “Sam,” Molly said after a minute, “you are full of horse manure.”

  A strained smile softened his expression for an instant. “Maybe. But if I were going to borrow money for Daisy’s surgery, I would have done it last October. I would have spared her another year of embarrassment and ridicule.”

  “Damn it, Sam.” White-faced and shaking, Angie pushed to her feet. “I agree with Molly,” she snapped. “You’re going to end up throwing away two little girls who need you. And why? Because of some noble-sounding notion about the spirit of the law? That’s not the reason. This is about pride. You’re setting pride above your daughters!”

  He came to his feet in anger. “Stop right there. You’re going too far, Angie.”

  “You’re trying to prove something to yourself that no one cares about but you! Do you want to know something? What hurt the most was that you didn’t come back for me. You left Chicago and you never looked back.”

  “I looked back a hundred times and you weren’t there.”

  “In ten years you never came back for me. And I’ll tell you why. Because nothing changed, Sam. You heard my father say that you’d never be successful, that you’d never amount to anything, and you believed him! You never asked if I believed him. You just walked away. And now you’re going to walk away from our daughters for the same damned worthless reason! Because if you aren’t successful enough to pay every penny of that doctor’s fee, then you don’t deserve your daughters. Like you didn’t deserve a wife.” Tears choked her. “And that’s crazy wrong thinking!”

  Molly turned to Can. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Can blinked. “It’s after midnight. Besides, this is our house. If they need some privacy, they can go to their own house.”

  “We’d wake the girls,” Angie snapped.

  “Stay where you are.” Sam spoke to Molly and Can, but he didn’t move his hard gaze from Angie’s flushed face. “We’re finished here.”

  Trembling in anger and disbelief, Angie stared at his intractable expression. Then she dusted her hands together with a slapping sound. “Yes. We’re finished.”

  Lifting her skirts, she marched across Molly’s kitchen and out the door, slamming it behind her.

  If his stupid pride cost him the girls, she would never forgive him. Never.

  Anger, despair, and frustration kept her awake that night. Finally, near dawn she stopped fighting Sam’s decision and focused her tired mind on trying to understand. The thing was, she did understand and a small part of her admired him. But she couldn’t agree. However, one thing was utterly clear. Her opinion didn’t matter.

  Sam skipped breakfast rather than put himself and Angie through the charade of pretending before the girls that everything was all right. While he dismantled the bandstand, he reviewed what they had said to each other last night.

  Once again Angie had chosen not to support him. She’d chosen to walk away rather than stand beside him and trust that he would do the right thing. That was what hurt most.

  After a while he realized someone worked beside him. Straightening, he pushed back his hat as the sun shot over the peaks and lit the street.

  “The guest of honor isn’t supposed to do the cleanup,” he said to Can. Irritation tightened his chest and made his shoulders flex. “Before you say anything, I still don’t want your money.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I don’t want any advice.”

  Can swung his hammer and knocked two boards apart. Tossed them toward a pile. “You have to give a woman something to believe in, Sam.”

  “Damn it, Can. Stay out of this.” He gave two boards a vicious smack with his hammer, prying them apart.

  “Why haven’t you told her how you’re going to manage?”

  Like it or not, he was going to get advice. “I have my reasons.”

  “They aren’t good enough. She’s worried and frightened.” Can tossed two more boards onto the pile. “Most important, she’s on your side. You’re a blind fool if you can’t see that.”

  Despite himself, Sam remembered Angie suggesting that they sell the house and live in a tent. Remembered her willingness to do whatever she could to earn money for the Daisy jar. And he remembered her blaming him for not sending for her. No matter what the subject, it connected somehow to the past.

  He swung the hammer hard. “She knew where I was, I always made sure she had my address. She could have contacted me. She could have joined me at any point during those ten years.”

  “So you were too proud to beg for her to come, and she was too proud to beg you to send for her.” Can straightened and wiped a hand across his brow.

  “You don’t understand all of it.”

  “I understand that neither of you are going to win a fight that’s ten years old. And I understand that you think she doesn’t believe in you because she isn’t willing to blindly trust that you have a plan to keep your girls. Well, she’s right. Angie’s like Molly. They’re both too smart to believe in a man just because he says Trust me. You and I didn’t marry stupid women, Sam. If you want to keep Angie on your side, you’re going to have to start trusting her.”

  “Damn it, Can. I trust her with my daughters, I trust her with my money, I trust her with my secrets.”

  “Then trust her with your pride. She wants to believe in you, son. Give her a chance.”

  “There’s something about his plan that’s bothering him, something he’s not sure of. That’s why he isn’t telling you.”

  “He’s testing me,” Angie said wearily. “I finally figured it out. He wants blind faith, absolute unquestioning belief.” It made her angry to think about. “I couldn’t give him blind faith ten years ago, and I can’t give it today.”

  Molly took a sip of coffee. “Every man ever born wants his woman to gaze at him with adoring eyes and gush, Whatever you say, honeyman.” She smiled.

  “Well, I can’t do that. It was the same thing ten years ago. He wanted me to pick up and go west. He didn’t tell me where
in the west or what he’d be doing out here. Didn’t tell me how we’d put a roof over our heads or food in our mouths. He probably had a plan then, too!”

  “He probably did.” Molly patted her hand. “Tell me something. Do you believe in Sam?”

  “Of course I do.” That had never been the problem, although Sam thought it was. “But how can I believe in a plan when I don’t know what it is? That’s the part that makes me crazy.”

  Molly shook her head and sighed. “Well then, all you can do is believe in the man.” She studied Angie’s expression. “Can you do that?”

  Angie dropped her head in her hands. “What choice is there?”

  The past used to be so clear-cut. Sam was to blame for their failed marriage. Period. Now she could see his side and could admit that she hadn’t done right either. They were both at fault. Maybe it was the same now. Sam wasn’t telling her his plan, and she couldn’t muster blind faith. So they were stuck.

  “There are always choices. You can believe in Sam and stand by him even if he’s too damned stubborn to do right and tell you his plan. Or you can remain at odds with him, keeping both of you angry. Then for sure he won’t tell you his plan.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s any of my business.”

  “Now you know that’s not true.”

  “Then what is?”

  “You may have been married for ten years, but you two are still working out living together.” Molly smiled. “Each time you bump into a difference of opinion, you learn how to handle it better the next time. I imagine Sam is getting the picture that demanding blind faith isn’t a good idea. And maybe you’re getting the idea that you have to trust him to do right.”

  “At the moment,” Angie said through gritted teeth, “I’d like to take that skillet off the stove and bang him on the head, drive him into the floor like a nail.”