Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (25 page)

Could a blind lady be the right kind of wife for
someone like Paul? After all, her parent’s marriage . . . well, they both could
see and it hadn’t helped them.

She thought she had counted each turn she made as she
strolled down the town street. Thinking she had gone four blocks, she turned
right and continued. Before long, expecting to be back at Paul’s front door,
she discovered that she wasn’t. She was lost!

This aggravated her as she turned to retrace her
steps, recalling the number of streets passed before each turn she made,
however this was of no avail. She was still lost.

Remembering how her mother had told her that if she
ever got lost. . . Amelia quickly shook the remembrance of the last time she
had need of that advice and soon located a huge oak tree and sat down, leaning
against its strong trunk.

Then she remembered the tiny, velvety box. Withdrawing
it from her pocket, she gingerly opened it, fingering the ring, locating each
stone, discovering the pattern of the filigree surrounding them. She dared to
try it on. It fit as if it had been specially made for her finger. However,
believing it improper to accept the token before actually accepting the
proposal, she replaced it into the protection of its sheltering box.

She’d only just discovered her love for him. Was it
too soon to consider marriage? Did he know what he was getting himself into by
asking a blind lady to marry him? Did she know what she would be getting
herself into if she said yes?

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I can’t find her. She’s just not here!” Corrin was
distraught at her niece’s disappearance. “I don’t understand. She never goes
anywhere without telling me first. Paul’s been asking for her. It’s not good
for him to have to worry about her right now.” 

“Paul fell asleep a few minutes ago,” Jeremiah said. “I’m
going to go look for her.” He grabbed his buckskin coat, leather gloves and his
hat and proceeded out the door.

“Wait!” Aaron called to him, grabbing his own coat. “I’ll
help you.”

The two sprang to their horses and headed in different
directions. Jeremiah headed for the saloon, thinking she may have gone home for
something, but Harry hadn’t seen her since the day after the shooting. He then
wandered up and down the streets of Glory Gulch, keenly looking one way and
then another. His heart pumped wildly, fearful something may have happened to
her.

 Amelia felt a drop of water, then another and another.
Rain! The drops pelted her as the wind picked up with a fury. Within minutes,
she was drenched. She didn’t know where she was. Perhaps this was someone’s
yard. Or was she on the edge of town? She pushed on as she looked for shelter
and quickly discovered a fence. With some difficulty, she located the gate and
proceeded down the walkway at what she surmised to be someone’s house.

The torrential rain accompanied by the heavy winds forced
her to fight with all her might just to remain standing. She came upon some
stairs, climbed them, and discovered she was upon someone’s porch. She was
soaked through to her skin, as if she had jumped into a bathtub of water with
her clothes on. She shivered violently.

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Jeremiah returned to the Strupel home only to find
Amelia had not returned yet. Aaron hadn’t found her either. He turned to go
back out into the storm and Corrin began to cry again.

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Amelia knocked on the door. No answer. She pounded
again loudly. She was shivering greatly and turned to decide whether to wait
there and freeze or to go back out into the storm to find someone who was home.

The door finally opened behind her and a soft, elderly
woman’s voice broke through the storm. Amelia thought she recognized the voice,
but through the tumult of the storm, she couldn’t be sure.

“Hello. May I help you?” the woman asked.

“Oh, yes! Thank you,” Amelia replied as she turned
toward the direction of the voice. “I’m blind and I’m lost and I got caught in
the rain!”

“Oh, my! Miss Jackson! Please, come in right away.” She
was promptly ushered into the house.

 “Rachel,” the lady called to someone. “Please, go
upstairs and get Miss Jackson a robe and slippers and a blanket. And then heat
up some tea. Add a little honey and lemon to it too, please.”

Amelia heard dainty female footsteps rushing to do the
elderly woman’s bidding.

The woman then turned her attentions back to her soggy
visitor whose teeth now chattered.

“Come, dear, we need to get you by the fire.”

Amelia was routed to a cozy, warm room, and the lady
began to relieve her of her wet clothes. She was soon wrapped in a warm robe
and slippers with a blanket snuggled around her. Only her face and hands
protruded to hold a steaming, delicious cup of tea.

“Your voice sounds familiar to me. Have we met?”

“I’m Ruth Swathorn, Paul’s Aunt. You and Paul came to
supper one night about three weeks ago. Do you remember me now? How did you get
lost, dear?”

That’s why her voice sounded familiar. Amelia sighed
deeply, thankful to be in the company of a familiar person. She recalled the
story to Mrs. Swathorn about how she was preoccupied and forgot to accurately
count streets, carefully not divulging what had caused her mind to wander.

“And how is Paul doing?”

“He awoke a while ago. He is very weak and in a lot of
pain.” She remembered him wincing at her touch. “But the Doctor says he will be
fine with a lot of rest.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Terrible thing that
happened to him. I would never have imagined that sort of thing could ever
happen to our Paul. I’ll send Rachel to tell everyone you’re all right, just as
soon as the storm dies down some.”

“Mrs. Swathorn, I know you’re fond of Paul.  Would you
tell me about him---as a boy, I mean?” Amelia’s interest was sparked at the
possibility of learning more about the man she loved.

“My, where shall I start? Glory Gulch started out as a
mining establishment, but it was soon discovered that there wasn’t any gold or
silver to be found, so the miners abandoned the place, chasing their dreams to
other parts of the mountains. However, the springs nearby were believed to
possess magical healing powers and soon, many rich people from Denver and a few
from back East started to build summer homes here. The Strupels built their
house when Paul was about five years old. They came almost every summer and
stayed as late as they could into autumn.

“As Paul grew he started to make some seedy
friendships. He got into all sorts of trouble at school, at church, and in the
community. The big city simply offered too much mischief for such a boy as
Paul.”

“Paul was a bad boy?” This couldn’t possibly be her
Sweetheart Mrs. Swathorn was talking about.

“Yes, indeed. Folks around here used to wish his parents
would leave him home for the summer. He brought all his mischief making here to
the Gulch.  Then his father died suddenly from an accident when Paul was about
ten years old. A wagon overturned on him. Paul’s mother almost lost control of
him after that. So she decided to get him as far away from the city as she
could, sold the family house in New York, and settled in here.

“Paul was quite rebellious at first, missing the
companionship of his rowdy friends from the city. He began to seek out other
boys his own age to try to stir up some mischief. When he met Jeremiah Cowan,
the two fast became best friends. Only it wasn’t Paul who influenced Jeremiah;
it was the other way around. The Cowans took him under their wing, treating him
like a son, which Paul drank in to soothe his troubled soul.

“Paul would spend months at a time at the Cowan cabin
where he learned the value of hard work and having fun without getting into
trouble. And he learned the value of human life as well as gaining an
appreciation for the peaceful mountains that were all around him.”

“Often in the winter months, Jeremiah would stay at
the Strupel home. His mountain upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude to a
lady, and he was always polite to Mary, Paul’s Mother. And soon Paul also began
to treat his mother with a long awaited respect and politeness.”

Amelia was completely caught up in the story, sipping
her tea, leaning forward to catch every word Mrs. Swathorn said.

“Mary Strupel told me a story once of how Paul had
watched her closely when they were invited to take Sunday supper at the Cowan’s
two room log cabin. His mother had maidservants to take care of her and her
household, but there at the cabin, Mary rolled up her sleeves and pitched in
with the cooking and clearing the dishes. And when she was finished, Paul
closely eyed her as she looked around for a chair. He was certain she would
embarrass him. Well, there wasn’t an available chair, so Mary lifted her
expensive, taffeta skirt and sat down on the dirty cabin floor as if nothing
were different from her own immaculate house. Oh the floor had been swept, but
with all those people tracking in dirt, well the floor was far from immaculate.
Paul admired his mother for her acceptance of his mountain friends and their
customs. His own heart grew with new found respect for her.”

“He grieved deeply when the Cowans died of typhoid. He
watched Jeremiah---about fifteen now---take over the raising of his little
brother. I think Aaron was about nine. Paul wanted to help by either giving him
money or having them come live in the large, Strupel house, but the mountaineer
ways were proud, and Jeremiah wouldn’t accept charity. The Strupels knew the
boys needed help, so every chance they could get they asked Jeremiah to paint
the house or build a fence or fix something that mysteriously got broken. Mary
paid them well, often adding foodstuffs to the boy’s money.”

Amelia smiled, remembering her aunt’s words of how
deep this friendship went.

“Soon, Jeremiah took on a job as a woodcutter, and
Paul went with him to help out. The two were young and strong and together
cleared more trees than a lot of men. They soon became partners in their own
logging business. They were inseparable.”

“Mrs. Swathorn, how did Mrs. Strupel die?”

“Pneumonia." Paul and Jeremiah were in their
early twenties by now. Both grieved as if she had bore twin sons. Paul’s sharp
mind thought up a way to help the Cowans even further. If he built a sawmill
nearby with some of his inheritance money, they could hire more workers and
offer more services to their customers. So the two split their ventures, each
one still needing and relying upon the other.”

Mrs. Swathorn set her teacup on a side table and
leaned back in her chair. “They both became respected pillars in the community,
each in their own right.”

“And, what of my aunt?”

“Oh, you know about that?”

“Yes, she told me once they both were fighting over
her. What ever happened?”

“Your aunt was a beautiful woman---still is. You look
a lot alike, you know.”

“Yes, people have told me that.”

 “The two became enamored of her. They fought over her
with all they had, but she wouldn’t even give them the time of day. I guess she
had been spurned by another fellow and simply didn’t want anything to do with men.
She told them straight out, but they ignored her and went right on fighting. The
whole town thought that would be the end of their friendship. Almost was too.

“When they finally got it through their thick skulls
that Miss Dannon was not the least bit interested romantically in either of
them and never would be, it was almost too late. Too many hurtful things had
been said and done. Their deep friendship had been wounded. It took them some
time to reconcile, and when they did, they vowed to never let a woman---or
anything---come between them again.”

“A couple months ago when I saw you being escorted to
Miss Dannon’s party by Jeremiah and then kissed by Paul at the piano, I thought
it was happening all over again. But then Jeremiah disappeared and the town
watched as you and Paul fell in love.

Amelia gulped, having heard them fight and knowing she
was the cause. She also knew the hurt Jeremiah must have felt as he stepped
aside to allow his dear friend to fall in love with her. She often had sensed
that he still had some strong feelings for her. How deep his love for Paul must
be for him to do such a thing. She had only encountered such a love once before
in her life, the love her Savior had for her when he laid his life down so that
she could be saved.

Amelia remembered the ring. She pulled the tiny box
out from under the blanket where it had been safely resting on her lap and held
it up for Mrs. Swathorn to see.

“I wondered what that was. You were clutching it so
tightly.” As Amelia opened the box, Ruth Swathorn drew in a deep breath.

“That’s Mary Strupel’s ring! But how did you get it?”

“Paul gave it to me after he woke up. He asked me to
marry him and said he wanted me to have this.”

“I’m so happy for both of you!” The elderly woman
gathered Amelia up into her arms. “I know how much he loves you. Welcome to the
family.” Mrs. Swathorn brushed tears from her eyes.