Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (16 page)

“You played magnificently,” he told her.” I’m so proud
of you.” Slipping his arm around her waist, the people around her were ready to
use the gesture at their next gossip session. After all, hadn’t Miss Jackson
arrived with Jeremiah Cowan? Paul managed to draw Amelia away from the crowd.

“Jeremiah wasn’t feeling well and had to leave. He
asked me if I would take care of you the rest of the night.”

“Will he be all right? Should we summon the Doctor?”

“No. He’ll be all right. He just needs to go home and
rest.”

“I am sorry to hear that. I know he was looking
forward to this party. I hate to see him miss it.”

Paul was amazed by her empathy. It was just one more
reason for him to love her.

Amelia must have realized she now had a new escort for
the evening, and she smiled at him.

“Well, Mr. Strupel. If you promised to take care of
me, then I suggest you get to it.”

“And what, pray tell, would the lady require of your
most humble servant?”

She giggled. “I would appreciate a glass of punch,
please.” He escorted her to a nearby chair and left to do her bidding.

Corrin followed Paul to the refreshment table. “I
overheard what Jeremiah told you, Paul, and you know as well as I do that
Jeremiah Cowan has never been sick a day in his life. What’s really wrong?”

“He
is
sick, Corrin---heart sick.” He
gazed at Amelia. “I guess I shouldn’t have kissed her at the piano.”

“Do you regret kissing her at the piano?”

“No.”

“Well, you knew this would happen sooner or later. One
girl, two men. She could only have picked one, and the other would have been
left behind. I think it’s good that it happened now. I don’t think he had fallen
for her as deeply as you have. He’ll be all right in no time. You’ll see.”

Paul retrieved two glasses of punch and was fortunate
to find a vacant chair beside Amelia, for she was enshrouded by devotees. He
gingerly placed a glass in her hand, which she gratefully accepted. Several of
her admirers were coaxing her to dance with them, but she declined them all,
stating that she wished to just sit and catch her breath awhile, so gradually
they left her to find a more willing dance partner.

He knew he would go talk to Jeremiah later, but for
now he had a job to do—keeping Miss Amelia Jackson close to him for the
duration of the night.

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Amelia found many clever excuses to keep herself from
having to dance with anyone else but Paul for the duration of the night. Sometime
around one o’clock she became exhausted, barely able to keep her eyes open any
longer.

Paul took her upstairs and opened the door to her room.
They paused in the doorway embracing each other, neither wanting to be the
first to say good night.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me in Jeremiah’s
absence. I had a wonderful time. It was because of you that I was able to make
it through the sonata.”

He stroked her hair tenderly and kissed her forehead. “It
was because of my kiss at the piano that Jeremiah left tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I guess he realized that I’ve fallen in love with you,
and the fact that you accepted the kiss must have told him that you might be
feeling the same about me. He must have started to feel out of place. And being
the sensitive man that he is, he decided to stop calling on you.”

So that’s why he had left her in the middle of the
dance. Amelia didn’t know how to react to this. She was glad that the bickering
between the two would be over, but her heart sank as she realized that she was
the reason Jeremiah left.

And then there was Paul---sweet, tender, gentle,
attentive, loving man that he was. She thought she might be falling in love
with him, but was afraid to express this until she was positive. Her emotions
were jumbled. All she could do was lay her head against his chest. It was just
too soon.

“I won’t be at church tomorrow, so I made arrangements
for Mrs. Conner to take you. I hope that’s all right with you. I’m going up
into the mountains to visit an old friend---to make sure he’s all right.”

Amelia remembered her aunt’s words during their
stagecoach ride.
You may not believe it now, but if either one of them was
ever in trouble the other would be at his side in a heartbeat, helping in
whatever way he could. I think you’d be amazed at how deep their friendship
goes.
Aunt Corrin was definitely right. Amelia was amazed.

“That will be fine. I like Mrs. Conner,” she said. “I
think you’re wonderful for going up there to be with him tonight. Thank you,
Paul. It will make me feel better too.”

He kissed her tenderly and she kissed him back.

“I’m sorry for all the fighting over you that we did.”
He traced her chin with his finger. “But you were worth the fight.”

He turned and she listed to his footsteps go down the
hallway and then head downstairs. And then he was gone out into the night.

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It was almost two o’clock in the morning when Paul
arrived at the familiar log cabin. He saw that a lamp was lit, so he entered
without knocking as he had done so many times through the years.

Jeremiah sat at the table, swirling a glass of whisky
in his hand, a bottle within reach. He snatched an empty glass and poured some
whisky into it.

“You’re just in time, Strupel. This party was
beginning to get a little boring.”

“Have you been drinking all night?”

“No. Haven’t had that much. Maybe you’re starting to
rub off on me.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” Paul
surveyed the cozy room. “Nothing ever changes up here, does it?”

“Nope. This is one thing I can count on always being
here. Say, why haven’t you been up here more often?”

“Because you live at the camp more than you do here. I’m
up there all the time if you recall.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We sure had some good
times up here, didn’t we?” Jeremiah smiled, swallowed a mouthful of whisky, and
leaned back in his chair.

“Remember that time when we were kids and we put that
garter snake in Aaron’s bed?” Paul laughed.

“Yeah. Just watching him jump and holler was worth the
whipping my pa gave me. And I remember the time he whipped you for convincing
Aaron that he could fly by holding an eagle feather in each hand and flapping
like a bird.”

Paul nodded his head, laughing uncontrollably now.

“You gave him a boost up onto the roof of the outhouse
and actually talked him into jumping off! You were lucky he didn’t break any
bones or anything. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Paul answered. “I did some pretty stupid
things back then. And your father was always whipping me right along with you. He
was a great man, your father. As soon as he discovered I didn’t have a father,
he took me under his wing and treated me as if I were one of his own sons. I
don’t know where I’d be today if it weren’t for him. I still miss him
sometimes.”

“Well, you’ve always been like a brother to me.” Jeremiah’s
reddened eyes welled up with tears, and he pressed his lips tightly together in
an attempt to keep them from flowing. He stood and walked over to where his
friend stood and looked directly into Paul’s face. Then he started to cry. “I
didn’t know it would hurt this bad, Paul. I had no idea she’d gotten to me like
this.”

Paul put an arm around his friend’s shoulder and
Jeremiah clung tightly to him. Now Paul was sure that he had been drinking more
than he let on. It was the whisky that was making him react so strongly. He’d
seen it in him before. But he also wasn’t too quick to discount his friend’s
feelings altogether.

He stayed at the cabin into the early morning hours as
the two became deeply engrossed in conversation. Jeremiah described the events
leading up to his decision to step aside for Paul to have Amelia to himself.

Around four-thirty, Jeremiah cooked a breakfast of
fried eggs, bacon, bread with butter and preserves and coffee. Their stomachs
full, their weary bodies now yearned for sleep.

“Since Aaron spent the night in town, you don’t
suppose he’d mind if I use his bed for awhile, do you?” Paul asked.

“No, go ahead. I’m going to lay down awhile myself.” Jeremiah
yawned and headed for his bed. Turning to Paul first, he snickered and said,
“Just be sure to check for snakes first.”

Paul grinned, confident that Jeremiah would be just
fine. He drifted off to sleep, weary from the long night with his inebriated
friend. But his last thoughts were of a young lady in a pink gown.

The heated summer days quickly gave way to September’s
cool spells. The scandalous gossip of how Mr. Strupel had wooed Miss Jackson
right out from under Mr. Cowan’s nose at the dance had faded and people became
accustomed to seeing the two together.

Unless he had an appointment to meet a client, Paul
looked forward to visiting with Amelia every morning on the porch. She now
snuggled under a warm cape or shawl while waiting for him, for the mornings in
the mountains had turned chilly. And he returned almost every evening to take
supper with her, sometimes there at the saloon with Corrin doting over the two,
and sometimes at Sarah Jane’s. Every now and then the couple found themselves
with a special invitation to eat supper in someone’s home.

But Amelia set aside Sundays for her family, for that
was the only day her aunt was freed from the saloon to rest and spend time with
her. And usually Paul tagged along. This arrangement was mutually agreeable,
since they all liked each other’s company. The threesome enjoyed many fine
picnics whenever the weather permitted, and during rain they hibernated in the
kitchen at the Silver Slipper Saloon or upstairs in Corrin’s parlor.

Mrs. Conner soon discovered that if she stocked small,
feminine items that were pink, Paul was sure to purchase them all. He also had
ordered several Braille books for her, much to Mrs. Conner’s delight. They were
very expensive and would bring the Mercantile a nice profit.

Numerous mornings Amelia emerged from her room to
embark on the day’s activities only to find a package containing a wonderful
surprise outside her door. Her aunt would smile whenever she would show her the
treasure---always something pink. Amelia beamed as she retrieved a soap dish
with embossed flowers she could identify with her fingertips, a bottle of rose
bath salts, silk hair ribbons, a hand embroidered handkerchief, a cameo brooch,
lace gloves that had been died pink, and even a parasol. She delighted in these
things because they came from Paul, although she chastised him often for
spending so much money on her. But he ignored her and continued anyway.

Every free moment he could pull away from the mill,
Paul passed the time luxuriating in Amelia’s sweet presence. Sometimes they
took long walks and talked for hours while getting to know each other more
intimately. They also enjoyed frequent jaunts on Colorado’s sturdy back, each
of them relishing the idea of being so near the other, sometimes riding to
nowhere in particular. They often rode to the field of wildflowers where Paul
helped her to memorize their individual names, but they had faded in autumn’s
cool embrace. He told her his mother was responsible for his wildflower
education, and he spoke fondly and often of her.

Once each week they rode up the mountain to the Cowan
Brother’s Logging Camp for Paul to conduct business, but mostly just for the
sake of visiting with good friends. Jeremiah and Paul still jabbed each other
every chance they could get, however, it was more in fun now rather than the
display of hostilities Amelia sensed shortly upon her arrival in Glory Gulch.

And Jeremiah would still lavish all his attentions on
her, which sometimes unnerved her. She simply didn’t know whether to take him
seriously or not.

As Paul and Amelia enjoyed each other’s companionship,
they became acutely aware of the numerous traits, principals and interests they
had in common. Their friendship blossomed and their love increased, but Amelia
still had difficulty voicing this to him.

Amelia particularly enjoyed their frequent
conversations about God. And Paul would often bring his new Bible and read to
her from the sacred Scriptures, which was usually followed by a discussion of
the newly read passage, gleaning all they could from the wondrous Words. Frequently
there would be a particular passage Amelia wanted to memorize, so he would
patiently assist her.

She settled in her new home and thrived on the routine
of it.

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Late one night in the last week of September, Amelia,
having long retired to her bedroom, was sleeping fitfully and awoke with a
sharp pain in her abdomen, recognizing the unpleasant pangs of impending
dysentery. It must have been something she ate for supper, she reasoned. The
small chamber pot was not going to be a useful tool in this situation, so
Amelia rose grudgingly, dressed herself and shuffled downstairs. She was
greeted by several familiar masculine voices.