She busied herself in playing the hostess, but she kept an eye on her niece the rest of the night. Paul wouldn’t let Amelia out of his grasp and she happily resigned herself to a single dance partner that night. Corrin allowed herself to feel the maternal instincts and love that had remained dormant inside her for over twenty years.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Weeks had passed since his birthday party, and Paul’s love for Amelia continued to increase each day. October proved to be a cold, rainy month and he was confident that snow was on its way to Glory Gulch, for it had already alighted upon the highest peaks. He had just come from saying good night to his Angel and hung his coat in the closet under the staircase and fumbled his way up the stairs in the darkness to his generous bedroom.
A fire soon roared in the fireplace and the chill of the night was quickly relenting to the warmth radiating from the hearth. Paul sat in his favorite overstuffed chair to remove his boots. Staring into the fire, his thoughts drifted toward Amelia, as they usually did.
He had never known a love so sure, kind, gentle, and true. He had heard of the term ‘love at first sight’, but always thought that had a rather lustful meaning, catering only to outward appearances. But now he wasn’t so sure. From the moment he had first seen Amelia Jackson, he was enamored of her. And though she had never verbally confirmed it, he was sure she loved him too. She accepted his embraces and kisses and always spoke affectionately to him. If he could only be sure.
They had only known each other for three and a half months. Was that ample time to fall in love with someone? He had heard of courtships back East lasting several years, followed by another year of engagement. Was this for a particular purpose? Or could it be that it simply takes some people longer than others to determine whether or not they really love each other?
He tired of his questioning and walked over to his night stand. Opening the drawer, he retrieved a small, black, velvet box and returned to the chair with the tiny treasure safely clutched in his huge hand. Carefully, he opened the lid and lovingly admired the shiny, gold ring inside. He remembered his mother wearing the ring with pride, a gift from his father the night he proposed to her. He often wondered whether his choice not to bury her with it was sound. But tonight it made perfect sense.
His big, masculine fingers gently touched the precious stones that dotted the filigreed surface as he tried to picture it on Amelia’s delicate hand. He was sure it would fit. His Angel’s fingers were long and slim like his mother’s were. Often, while sitting in Corrin’s parlor with her, she would allow him to hold her delicate hand. His thoughts of touching her thrilled him and he smiled.
Paul sat for nearly an hour thinking of Amelia’s sweet smile, her infectious laugh, the angelic tone of her voice, and how his heart beat wildly whenever she was near him. No doubt about it, he loved her more deeply than any man has ever loved a woman.
Finally realizing it was late, he hesitantly replaced the ring box back into the drawer for safekeeping and readied himself for sleep, remembering to thank the Lord for bringing Amelia back home and into his arms.
He crawled underneath the covers and felt sleep wash over him along with the warmth generated by the hearth and his heart.
A loud noise shattered Paul’s dreams of Amelia. He sat up in bed. The darkness of night enshrouded him. He frowned. Only half awake, he listened to discern if he could hear the noise again.
Bang, Bang!
Someone was pounding on his front door. A chill raced up his spine as he remembered the last time someone pounded on his door late at night just one month ago.
After lighting a candle and checking the mantle clock, he realized it was two o’clock in the morning. Throwing on some trousers, he carried a candle down the hall and stumbled downstairs into the entryway. He half expected Mrs. Scranton to meet him there, but he knew nothing much could wake his housekeeper once she’d slipped into sleep’s tight grasp.
Upon opening the door Paul immediately recognized the man standing before him. But as quickly as he could blink, the sound of gunshot pierced the stillness of the cold night air, immediately followed by another.
Paul was thrust backward from the blows, slamming against the stair rail. He slumped down onto the floor, clutching his shoulder in agonizing pain which worsened with each breath he drew. The candle had dropped to the floor, it’s light snuffed out and Paul was alone once again in the darkest hours of the night. The wide open door allowed the cold, October, night air to pour in around him as he lay powerless on the floor, trying to fathom what had just occurred. He attempted to pull himself up, but the pain was so great that it seemed as though his whole body had exploded. So he resigned himself to just lie still, praying for someone to find him---soon.
His thoughts turned toward his precious Amelia. He remembered the first time he touched her hair the night she arrived in Glory Gulch. His thoughts progressed to the first time he kissed her in the field of wildflowers and the first time she kissed him back standing barefoot on the river bank. Please God, I pray that you would see fit for me to see her again, to touch her soft face, to hear her sweet Angel voice. Don’t let me die like this.
How would this affect her? She’s been through so much this past year and she doesn’t need any more pain in her life. Please, God… Paul heard footsteps on the porch.
Within minutes after the shots had split open the deep silence of the night, bewildered neighbors carrying lanterns, shotguns and carbines were scrutinizing the neighborhood to determine the source of the startling sound. When their lanterns revealed Paul Strupel’s front door wide open with no light illuminating from within they sneaked steadily up the walkway, guns ready.
The first man to step onto the porch paused to raise his lantern and peered inside, discovering his neighbor lying helplessly on the floor.
“It’s Paul Strupel! He’s right here! He’s been shot! Tyler, go get the doctor! Hurry!” The man leaned his carbine against the doorjamb and went inside to see if he could help, placing the lantern on the floor beside Paul to assess the extent of the wound. One bullet had entered just below Paul’s left shoulder, the other just an inch below the first. He was alert and aware of what was going on around him, but was bleeding a great deal and was in excruciating pain. A couple of men carried him upstairs and carefully eased him onto his bed. They pressed him for any information he could give them.
Painfully and breathing shallow, uneven breaths, he answered them. “Heard pounding on the door. . .Went downstairs. . . Opened the door and saw Jake Turnbull pointing a gun at me and heard a shot. . .” Paul slipped into unconsciousness.
› › ›
Men scrambled everywhere in the neighborhood, some to the Strupel home, some back to their own houses, fearful that the perpetrator may still be near. One man went to fetch the Doctor while several others headed out to spread the horrible news throughout Glory Gulch.
One man assembled as many men as possible to begin a search for Jake Turnbull with an efficiency that would have made any military captain proud.
Somewhere in all this, Mrs. Scranton appeared, shocked and confused, unable to think straight enough to offer her services. One man asked her to make some coffee for the men who’d be returning from spreading the news.
Doc Glover arrived shortly and examined Paul as more men poured into the house and the bedroom. When finished, the doctor motioned to a couple men to come near. “Eric, would you please get Mrs. Ruchers for me. I’m going to need a capable assistant here. I have to operate on one of the wounds. Jason, I need you and Mathew to keep people out of here for awhile. Jeremy, ask Mrs. Scranton to boil some water and bring it up here to me, and find some extra sheets.”
Several men scrambled to do the Doctor’s bidding.
“And the rest of you, let the people outside know what’s going on. Try to calm them down and get them to go back to their own houses. I know this sort of thing rarely happens in this gulch and such an assembling of people could only lead to folks getting wor
ked up and maybe even more trouble.”
Meanwhile, the whole town was buzzing. The news travelled at an amazing speed from house to house. This was a peaceful town that didn’t even have need for a sheriff; Paul Strupel usually acted as Constable to settle any minor disputes that arose, so people were appalled and frightened by the crime.
Within minutes, the news arrived at the Saloon. The bearer burst in and shouted, “Paul Strupel’s just been shot at his home!” And as quickly as he entered, he ran back out into the night.
The few men who were there jumped up and ran outside. Two fellows from the logging camp, who knew they would be in trouble from the Boss in the morning for having sneaked into town to do some drinking, scrambled to get word back to the men in the camp.
› › ›
Corrin gasped and waxed pale, her knees buckled as she spilled into a nearby chair, breathless with disbelief. Harry quickened to her side. Swallowing hard and fighting back the tears, she said, “I have to tell Amelia.”
Amelia was sleeping soundly and didn’t awaken at Corrine’s initial intrusion into her room. As she neared the sleeping form, her heart pounded so heavily she thought it would waken her niece who looked so angelic as she lie there, unsuspecting of the terrible news that awaited her. She sat on the bed beside her and gently shook her.
“Amelia. Amelia. Honey, you’ve got to wake up.”
Her niece stirred and Corrin continued, this time with more urgency. “Sweetie, you’ve got to wake up!”
“Aunt Corrin? Is that you?” Amelia sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.
“Yes, Honey. Something has happened. I need to tell you...” Corrin’s voice trembled and she started to cry.
“What is it, Aunt Corrin? What happened?”
“It’s Paul, Sweetie. He’s been shot.”
“Shot? No!” Amelia gasped and put her hands over her heart as if she herself had just been wounded there. “Aunt Corrin! Please, tell me that he’s not . . .”
“I don’t know any more than that, Honey.”
With sudden composure and deliberate resolve, Amelia threw back the quilt, jumped to her feet and located her clothes to dress herself. “We’ve got to go to him, Aunt Corrin. Help me find my shoes.” She looked as though she might faint, but fought it with all her might.
Corrin helped her tie her hair back with a ribbon, locate a cape, and head downstairs within a matter of minutes.
By the time the ladies arrived, a large crowd had gathered at the Strupel house. A couple men guarded the door to keep everyone out.
Arm in arm with her niece, Corrin pushed and shouldered her way through the group to the front porch and as she directed Amelia up the front stairs, the guards halted her. Someone from the crowd shouted, “It’s Miss Jackson, for goodness sake! She’s Paul’s sweetheart! Let her go in!” The rest of the crowd yelled similar statements.
“You’ll have to wait downstairs until the Doctor’s through, Ma’am. Doc Glover’s orders.”
“We will,” Corrin promised and after the two slipped inside, the door shut behind them. Several men who had been talking quietly in the dining room paused to see who had entered the house. Squinting into the dark entryway, they quickly recognized the ladies and bid Corrin to talk with them for a moment.
“One minute, fellas. Let me see to my niece first.” She guided Amelia into the parlor, lit a lamp, and showed Amelia to a settee. Hastily, she started a small fire in the fireplace. “Will you be all right for a moment, Sweetie? I’ll see what they want and then I’ll be right back.”
“Yes. But please, don’t be gone too long, Aunt Corrin?”
“I won’t be long, Honey. I promise,” Corrin turned to go back out through the entryway. But upon doing so, the light from the parlor allowed her to see the splatters of blood on the entry floor, walls and stairs, and she thought her knees would give out again, but then a voice called to her from the dining room. She stepped around the blood as best as she could and greeted the men in the dining room.
“Corrin, we want to know if Jake Turnbull was in your place tonight.”
“Yeah, he was there for quite some time. Left well over an hour ago, though.”
“Was he drinking a lot?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Paul mentioned his name while we were waiting for the Doctor to get here. Right now, he’s the only suspect we’ve got.”
“Paul’s alive then? Did you see him? How is he?”
“Was shot in the arm twice, just under the shoulder. Lost a lot of blood and was in tremendous pain. Passed out right after he mentioned Jake Turnbull. The Doctor didn’t say much about his condition, just that he had to operate on one of the wounds.”
Corrin turned to go back to Amelia’s side, but remembering the scene in the entryway, decided to go another direction, through the music room. She shut the parlor doors to drown out any unpleasant conversation that may be overheard from the dining room and the sickening sight of the blood in the entryway and devoted her attentions to her niece, telling her all the men had just disclosed.
Amelia raised her head. “Well, we know Paul was alive just a little bit ago. I must believe that he’s going to be alright.”
Corrin patted her shoulder. “Yes, we’ll just keep that thought in our heads.” There were no guarantees in life, so if the girl wanted to believe the best, then who was she to keep her from what little comfort she could find at a time like this?
“Aunt Corrin?”
“Yes, Sweetie?”
“How does one tell if one is in love?”
“Well, that’s difficult to say. It’s different for each person.”
“Oh no.” Amelia sighed. “Then how can anyone ever be sure then?”
“Well, there are a few signs that are usually the same; maybe your palms become sweaty; your heart flutters when you’re near him; you often lose your breath when he touches you. Just hearing his name mentioned in a conversation excites you. And when he’s not around, all you can think about is him. Things like that are usually good indications that you’re falling in love.”
“That sure describes me. But, I’m just so unsure.”
“Sweetie, what you’ve got to do is just follow your heart. It won’t let you down. I can’t explain it, but your heart will tell you, and suddenly, you’ll just be overwhelmingly, positively, absolutely, one hundred percent certain that you’re in love. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.” Even those who have fallen in love down through the ages couldn’t agree on the specifics of love.
› › ›
Keeping a silent vigil, Amelia searched hear heart long and hard about her feelings toward Paul Strupel. Although she was sure she loved him, she prevented herself from telling him. Why? She decided to ask God about it and trust Him to guide her, as well as keep Paul safe and alive.
Remembrances of her Father came seeping through her thoughts of Paul. She recollected the night he left his mother and her never to return. He told her he was going to war and would be back very soon. She hugged him generously and told him she loved him, and then he was gone. The mind of a child always seems to take the blame for the hurts imposed upon it.
Maybe that was the issue, Amelia thought to herself. Perhaps she was afraid to tell Paul she loved him because she was clandestinely hiding the fear that he would go away if she told him. It sounded incredible, yet somehow possible.
Amelia prayed fervently, feeling that the Lord had showed her this for a purpose. She had to forgive her Father for leaving, but she also had to allow herself to not feel as though it was her fault that he never came home again.
Her prayers were intense and arduous that night, but when she was finished, she felt at peace within herself. Her heart soared, and she knew emphatically that she was in love with Paul and couldn’t wait to tell him. But then the horror returned. Had she waited too long to tell him?
She rested her head against her aunt’s shoulder. “Aunt Corrin?”
“Yes, Sweetie?”
“I do love him.” Silent tears escaped down her cheeks.
Corrin put her arm around her and hugged her. “I know, Honey. I know.”
› › ›
About an hour later, the Cowan brothers rumbled into town, their horses exhausted and sweaty from being pushed to their limits. They brought their horses to an abrupt stop in front of Paul’s large house and jumped down.
With long, deliberate strides, they trod up to the porch, and recognizing the guards, Jeremiah simply stated, “We’re going in.”
They headed straight for the dining room, where several men sat around the table, drinking what smelled like strong coffee. Within a minute they were apprised of the situation, and then man mentioned the ladies who were holding vigil in the parlor.
Jeremiah returned to the entryway and stopped in front of the pocket doors. He pushed them open and Corrin immediately stood and fled into his arms for comfort.
“How are you two holding up?” he asked as he lovingly hugged her while glancing toward Amelia. He thought she looked lovely, even under the circumstances.
“We don’t really know anything. Just that he was shot twice in the shoulder,” Corrin said. “We haven’t seen the doctor yet.”
He went to the settee and sat beside Amelia.
“Thank you for coming, Jeremiah,” she said. “Just having you here is such a relief.” All her strength suddenly vanished and she collapsed into his arms. She was obviously physically exhausted, but he was certain the emotional turmoil had also worn her out.
Jeremiah held her tenderly in his arms and allowed her tears to soak his buckskin jacket. He kissed her on her head.
“He’ll be all right, Amelia. Paul’s a fighter. You’ll see.”
› › ›
They waited for almost another hour and a half before he heard Doc’s footsteps in the hallway upstairs. The three in the parlor and the men who had been keeping vigil in the dining room greeted Doc in the entryway with anxious eyes. One of Paul’s intimate neighbors was holding a lamp for them to see.
Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Page 16