She raised her head a bit to accept it, then let her head drop back onto the feather pillow. "Thank you, Doc."
Doc Wilkins offered her a rare, but genuine smile. "Rest easy, now."
Myrna's gaze shifted to Angel and Gregory, standing there together.
And as she let her eyes slide closed, she said softly, "I will."
Angel stood there, with Gregory behind her, and watched over her sleeping aunt for some time. Finally, as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, she and Gregory left. He escorted her home to her apartment, then left to cover the evening shift at the sheriff's office.
Word came in the wee hours, in the form of Doc Wilkins's nurse, Mary, softly knocking on her door.
Myrna Lane Corcoran had earned her heavenly rest, slipping away peacefully in the night.
* * *
Chapter 14
Gregory stood alongside Angel, in his best black suit. His bride-to-be, dressed in the dark gown and veil of a woman in mourning, placed a small bunch of lilies on the freshly turned earth covering her aunt's grave. She knelt there for a few, silent moments, her tears watering the blooms she'd just placed. He stood back, allowing her to grieve in peace.
Lupe, also clad in a dark gown and matching hat, came to kneel beside her friend. Gregory watched as Lupe pulled Angel into her arms, and there on the winter brown grass, rocked her side to side in an attempt to soothe her pain. It touched his heart that Angel had such dear, caring friends, and as he looked around to Lilly, Prissy, Valerie, and the many other women of town who'd come to pay their respects, he knew she'd be alright. They would hold her up; care for her in that certain way women cared for each other, and he would be there to care for her, just as much as she could stand.
In the morning mist, Gregory sat on an old cracker barrel, by the banks of Hibbit's Pond. The small body of water was only a bit removed from the main part of town, and was the closest fishing hole to be found without saddling a horse. He came out here as often as he could manage, most especially when he needed to clear his mind. After the previous day's hardships, he'd known it was time to get his gear. Now, sitting here in the quiet with his line in the water, he felt more at peace than he had in the last several days.
Next to him, Angel May sat on the ground, tending her own line. He hoped that by bringing her out here, she might experience some of the peace he got from fishing. When he'd asked her after the burial, she'd agreed to come along. The two of them had come out before sunrise, and had already caught five fish. The crate between them, lined with pages from old editions of the Tribune, held the morning's catch.
Angel May was the only woman he'd fished with since his mother. He usually fished with Buck, and the two of them could go three hours or more without saying a word to each other. But if she wanted to talk, he would be there to listen to her.
For the moment, they sat in convivial silence, each of them focused on the glassy surface of the water.
She spoke, her eyes still on the water. "I miss her, Gregory. I miss her terribly."
His heard the pain in her words, and the love he had for her made him want to take it away. "I know you do, dear."
Her shoulders trembled a bit, and a sob escaped.
He lay down his fishing rod, and left the barrel so he could sit on the ground behind her. She leaned back against him, fat tears falling down her cheeks.
He held her, and let her cry. As much as it hurt him to see her this way, he knew it was only natural. She'd lost someone she loved dearly, someone who'd anchored her life. She needed to mourn, and he would let her.
Neither of them spoke for a while, he simply let her experience the raw emotions burdening her.
When the sobbing subsided, he gave her a squeeze. "I took your advice, you know."
She sniffled, wiped her face with the back of her hand. "What advice?"
"Remember the day we went to San Francisco? When you told me I should ask my mother if she was happy taking care of us?"
She turned to face him, her brow knit with confusion. "You mean you asked her? How?"
"I wrote her a letter. Got a response from this morning."
She looked intrigued. "What did she say?"
"In brief, she said that she loved us all, and enjoyed taking care of us most of the time. But there were times when we vexed her, she simply didn't show her anger."
She nodded. "I see."
"So, it turns out you were right. She wasn't always content with her duties around the house."
A small smile lit her face, and some of the tension left her body. "Well, it is nice to be right now and again."
He squeezed her shoulders, relieved that he could offer her some degree of comfort. She'd been right to question him about his attitudes, and now that he'd heard from his mother, he felt his strict views loosening a bit. Maybe, just maybe, women could play a greater role in society, outside of their households. And maybe if they did, the results wouldn't be as catastrophic as he'd once believed.
He looked down, found her watching him.
"Are you coming around to my side, Gregory?"
He chuckled. "I never said that."
She smiled again, then turned away.
He picked up his pole, but remained seated on the ground with her.
And with her sitting between his open thighs, they refocused their attention on catching more fish.
***
Gregory dusted his hands on his denims. "There. Looks good."
He and Thad had spent the better part of the morning setting up the lobby of Taylor Hotel for today's elections. Gregory had to admit he was somewhat relieved to have finally reached this day. Perhaps after the ballots were cast and this whole election business was completed, things in town would calm down, and some level of peace would be restored. He'd had it with the protests, and the brawls, and the general chaos that surrounded the politics in town.
Thad agreed. "And with time to spare. It's still a little while before folks start coming in."
He checked the old clock above the front desk, and saw that it was seven thirty. The poll didn't officially open until eight, so that gave them a bit of time to relax before the day's work began in earnest.
Thad's voice broke through his thoughts. "How do you think things will turn out today?"
He shrugged. "Who knows? With all the arguing and shouting that's been going on around here lately about women's rights and such, there's really no telling."
Thad ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "You've got a point. Well, Noah's got my vote. Can't say I'm all that fond of Greer."
Standing by the big window that looked out onto Founder's Avenue, he nodded. "Noah's got my vote, too. As far as I'm concerned, Greer's an ass, and not fit to lead a pig to the trough, let alone be mayor of Ridgeway."
That started both men laughing. They were still chuckling when the members of the town council, responsible for working the poll, entered the lobby. Noting the serious looks on the faces of the three old men, Gregory stifled his mirth, and gestured to Thad to do the same.
They watched as the council members set up at the tables, laying out a few pens and inkwells, along with the big book that held the names of the men of town who were authorized to vote. As deputy sheriff, Gregory had a clear understanding of the town's bylaws, and they strictly prohibited any man who was foreign born, owed excessive outstanding debts to a town business, or who had a criminal record from casting a vote. Part of the reason he and Thad were there was to regulate the process. Should a man who'd lost his voting privilege show up and make a fuss, one of the lawmen could haul him in if it became necessary.
From his spot at the window, Gregory could see the early birds of town, out and about to handle the day's business. Across the street, Henry Carl propped open the door to the livery and blacksmith's shop, while newspaperman McCormack filled the wooden rack outside the newspaper office with copies of today's Ridgeway Tribune. A few folks moved up and down the walk, some headed for the mercantile, or the library.
<
br /> A gaggle of women came into view as they emerged from the grassy field between the schoolhouse and the rear of the newspaper office and stepped onto the walk. As soon as he saw them, Gregory cursed under his breath. There were ten or so of them, arms linked, and singing something he couldn't identify. The words were muffled by the glass windowpane. What they intended, he had no idea. All he knew was that he wasn't in any mood for foolishness today, and if they created any chaos, he'd have no problem tossing them all into the three empty cells in the sheriff's office.
Seeing their approach made him think of Angel May, though a quick appraisal of their faces told them she wasn't among them. She hadn't spoken to him since the day he'd help take her to the clinic, when she'd compared him to the men who'd attacked her. He knew she was angry, as she had a right to be. What he didn't understand is how she could think of him that way. Had he really been that abrasive with her over the suffrage issue? Did she really think him capable of such base behavior?
He supposed she must think lowly of him, because she'd refused to see him since that day. Whenever they crossed paths on the street, she would go out of her way to avoid him, even crossing the road if necessary. And when he'd shown up at the clinic to visit with Mrs. Corcoran during a time Angel had been present, Doc Wilkins had sent him away, telling him Angel refused to share space with him. He groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair. How had he come to such an impasse with the woman he cared about? The woman he might even love?
Thad tapped his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. "You alright, Deputy?"
He nodded, trying to convince both his light horseman, and himself. "Yeah, sure, I'm fine."
Looking somewhat unconvinced, Thad jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Gird your loins, sir. The women are coming."
He straightened up, put on a stern face, and prepared for their entrance.
When the women entered, they were silent, having ceased their singing. As he and Thad watched, they fanned out across one wall, each of them taking a seat on the floor with their backs against the striped wallpaper.
The councilmen looked on with interest, as well.
For a few long moments, no one said anything.
Finally, Thad asked, "Alright, ladies. What's the meaning of this?"
The librarian Prissy Parker, who was among the women, spoke up in answer. "It's a sit-in. We're still protesting being denied the vote, just doing so in silence."
Dressmaker Lilly Benigno added, "Yes. So, don't worry, we won't interrupt your proceedings."
Gregory quipped sarcastically, "There's a change of pace."
Prissy's brow's knitted angrily, but she held herself in check. "Say what you will, Deputy. We mean to get our point across in a civilized manner." She folded her arms over her chest, directed her eyes straight ahead, and said no more.
Thad turned to him. "Well, we can't put them out, not with them sitting quietly and not raising a fuss."
He shrugged, content with the situation as it was. "No, we can't. But if they're really going to just sit-in, I don't see any harm in it."
Thad nodded, then returned to his post next to the tables where the councilmen sat.
For the first few hours of voting, things remained uneventful. The officers stood at their posts, and the men of town came in, saw the council members for their ballots, cast their votes, and left. The women, true to their word, said nothing, and remained seated, seeming content to watch the proceedings unfold without interfering. A sense of calm settled over Gregory, and he began to think that this day might go by without incident.
The door swung open, and he turned his head to see who was coming in.
His chest tightened immediately at the sight.
There, framed by the open doors, stood his beautiful Angel May. With the sunlight streaming in around her, she looked every bit as radiant an ethereal as her name suggested. A snow white, long sleeved blouse covered her upper body, while a pair of snug fitting denims clung to her hips like a second layer of skin. Her injured wrist was still wrapped.
Her sparkling bronze eyes met his, but they held no expression. They were as cool as the air in an icebox.
The barmaid Lupe accompanied her as she moved into the space, and he noticed the slight limp punctuation her gait. She was obviously still sore, and still angry with him, because she was making a show of ignoring him. She stooped low, grimacing a bit as she did, as she stopped to greet each one of the women who'd posted themselves up against the wall for the so-called 'sit-in.' That done, she moved to the end of the line, next to the schoolteacher Janice Smart. Lupe fetched her a chair, to keep her from having to sit on the floor, and Angel sat.
He watched the women for a few moments, noting the way Angel avoided looking in his general direction. They were carrying on a hushed conversation about something; he couldn't make out what they were saying, and he didn't much care. What he did care about was Angel, and making her talk to him, despite her obvious determination to the contrary.
So, he left his post by the booths and strode across the room to where she sat.
***
Angel was well aware of Gregory standing over her. There was no denying his presence, due to his massive size, and the heady aroma of pine and cigar tobacco that seemed to swirl around him like an aura. She could sense his annoyance as he stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge him. But she was speaking to Janice, and she refused to stop herself mid-sentence just because he'd lumbered over to stare down at her.
He cleared his throat loudly; she ignored him. She felt no need to jump at his every whim.
When she'd said her piece to the schoolmarm, she looked up at him. He stood there glaring at her, his big arms folded over his chest. For all the world, she thought he looked like an angry bear who'd just had a fat salmon escape his grasp. Keeping her face impassive, she said, "Hello."
He cocked a thick eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"
She responded with a slight shrug. "Why shouldn't I be here?"
He frowned for a moment before speaking again. "You should be home, resting. You've been through a lot."
She gave a nonchalant chuckle, completely free of humor. "You're not in any position to tell me what to do."
That seemed to rile him. His nostrils flared, his eyes flashed with anger. "Angel May, this isn't a time for being stubborn and petty. I'm only thinking of your welfare."
She scoffed. Stubborn and petty indeed. He was the one whose opinions were so unchangeable, it was if they were cast in stone. "Honestly, Gregory. I'm an adult, and I'm perfectly capable of..."
The rest of her words slipped back down her throat unspoken as he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her from her seat. In the next breath, he draped her over his shoulder like a buffalo pelt, and started striding.
Gasps and exclamations of shock rose from the assembled women.
She balled her good hand into a fist, beat against his shoulder. "Put me down!"
He ignored her as he approached Thad.
Gruffly, he asked, "Thad, can you handle things here for a while?"
An amused Thad laughed as he bobbed his head. "Sure."
Angel did not share the young man's amusement, and she struggled against Gregory's grasp as he turned and carried her toward the door. The bruising she'd taken in the buggy crash had not yet healed completely, and the more she twisted against him, the more the dull pain intensified. As he kicked open the door, she gave up the ghost and let him carry her out, lest the pains morph into full-on throbbing misery.
Outside, she cast her angry eyes on the townsfolk moving up and down the walk, all of whom seemed interested enough in her plight to stare, yet didn't bother to intervene. Folks merely stepped aside and Gregory toted her up the walk, heading north up Town Road, toward the picnic shelter in the grassy field.
When they arrived there, he sat her down, her hips coming to rest atop one of the wooden picnic tables beneath the shelter. Now she took on his forme
r stance, folding her arms over her chest and letting her face crease into a rather unpleasant frown.
Since the crash, and the subsequent loss of her aunt, she'd been a ball of emotions. Angry one moment, sad the next; cycling between crying and laughing. Right now, though, everything about his manner seemed infuriating, and she meant to tell him all about it.
He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at her intently.
When she realized he wasn't speaking, she lay into him. Her index finger extended in his direction, she shouted, "Have you got sawdust where your brains ought to be? What in the hell do you mean by picking me up and toting me through town like that?"
His eyes tracked the movements of her wagging finger for a few moments, before he reached out and pushed her hand down. "Holster that damn finger, Angel May, and listen to me."
"I'll do no such thing. You're a simpleton of the highest order if you think I'm interested in anything you have to say, after what you did. You're lucky I haven't slugged you right in your fool mouth!" She made a move to slide off the table top, so she could get away from his foolery, and go back to the sit-in where she belonged.
He moved closer, his big body blocking her path of exit. His powerful thighs pressed against her knees where they dangled over the side of the table, effectively immobilizing her.
His dark eyes beneath the brim of his Stetson bored into hers, and she could see the urgency in his gaze.
"You know, the last time you threatened to slug me, you kissed me instead."
She closed her eyes against his intense gaze, and against the memory of that kiss. That was the day he'd ceased being just the deputy to her, the day he'd come to mean so much more. The moment their lips touched, her heart had escaped its gilded cage and landed in his possession.
"So, you remember that," she heard him say.
She took a deep breath, opened her eyes again. "Don't toy with me, Gregory. I'm not some empty-headed doxy, and as long as you keep up your foolish, male superior way of thinking, I can't be with you. I won't."
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