Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (26 page)

“But I didn’t have a chance to accept his proposal. People
began pouring into the room before I could answer him. I thought I would get
some fresh air to clear my head to think more distinctly, but I got myself lost
because all I could think of was Paul.”

“I think you know what your answer is, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Aunt Corrin had asked her a similar question
not long ago. She marveled at the wisdom that accompanied age.

“Then you must go to him at once. Look, it’s cleared
up outside.”

Amelia hadn’t noticed that the storm had passed, and
she had no idea how long she had been sitting there by the fire. She reached
for her clothes. They were dry enough to wear again.

“What time is it, Mrs. Swathorn?”

“Why, it’s nearly one o’clock. My, time flies when you’re
in such wonderful company.”

“But that means I have been gone for hours. They will
all be worried about me. I must get back.” Amelia hastily dressed and Mrs.
Swathorn sent her housekeeper to escort her back to the Strupel residence. As
she felt the fence that surrounded Paul’s property, Amelia smiled, knowing
Jeremiah had built it.

Corrin came rushing out to meet them, grabbing her
niece up in her arms, holding her tightly and crying softly. “Oh, honey. I’ve
been so worried about you. We all have. Paul woke up and has refuses to rest
until he knows you are safe.”

Amelia thanked Rachel for bringing her home and then
recounted the morning’s events to her Aunt as they entered the house.

Only a few minutes had passed when the front door
swung open with a bang and Amelia heard Jeremiah’s heavy footsteps. Corrin met
him in the entrance.

“Have you heard anything from her yet?”

“She just got here.”  

He rushed into the parlor and caught Amelia up in his
strong arms and held her closely, shaking with relief. “Thank God. You’re safe.”
He kissed her on top of her head. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry. I took a walk and miscounted streets and
got lost. Then I got caught in the storm and ran to the first house I could
find. It was Mrs. Swathorn’s house. I was drenched and had to wait for my
clothes to dry and for the storm to pass.” Amelia knew her explanation wouldn’t
justify his having spent almost four hours looking for her. “I really am very
sorry, Jeremiah.”

“I was just so worried.”

“Jeremiah Cowan, you should know by now that God is
always looking out for me.”

“Yeah. I guess I should.” He loosened his grip and
held her in front of him. “Paul’s been waiting for you.” He took her arm and
guided her up the stairs and then into the bedroom.

“Amelia!” Paul called to her. “I was so concerned
about you, Angel. Are you all right?

She immediately tapped her way to Paul’s side as
Jeremiah slipped downstairs. “I’m so sorry to have distressed you, Sweetheart. I
took a walk and got lost. Mrs. Swathorn took care of me while the storm passed.
We had a good, long talk, and then all I wanted was to be here with you.” She
inhaled deeply. “I love you, Paul Strupel. And I would count it a privilege and
a pleasure to be your wife.”

Paul reached for her with his good arm and drew her to
him. They kissed each other tenderly and hugged as best as they could without
bothering his shoulder. Amelia produced the ring box, opened it and held it out
for him to take. Then holding her left hand out to him, he placed it on her
finger.

Paul stroked her hair and whispered, “Thank you, Angel.
I love you too.”

She still wasn’t sure what kind of wife she’d make,
but if he never took a chance, she’d never know for sure.

Paul stood in the parlor, peeking through the curtains
as he waited for Amelia’s arrival. The thick blanket of newly fallen snow must
have slowed her down. She may have to wait for someone to guide her through the
deep snow. That would mean it would be almost noon before Corrin would be ready
to leave home. He couldn’t bear not seeing Amelia on such a pretty morning and
considered going to get her himself. But then reality grasped him, reminding
him of his present state of physical weakness. Most days he couldn’t even
negotiate his own stairway without stopping to sit down and rest three fourths
of the way up. No, he would simply have to wait for her.

Less than two weeks had passed, and Paul was up from
his sickbed, getting around fairly well. He still needed much rest. Regaining
his strength was a slow process---too slow for Paul. He had asked Mr. Farley,
his newly appointed foreman, to bring him some paperwork from the mill for him
to work on during this rehabilitation period.  Doc Glover cautioned him sternly
about the dangers of doing too much too fast. He forewarned Paul that even
though he felt better, he should continue to take it easy. So no matter how
eager he was to get back to work, Paul stayed home and constantly fretted about
the mill.

But his days were filled with Amelia’s presence. He
loved that she was always there, always near, as he had dreamed it would be
when she would become his wife. She would sometimes read to him from her new
Braille books, and she often practiced the piano with Paul sitting in a nearby
chair, an adoring audience of one.

He pressed her to marry him immediately so that she
would never have to leave his house again. But Corrin wouldn’t hear of his
spoiling her big wedding plans with his talk of elopement. She had planned
another trip to Glenwood Springs to purchase Amelia’s wedding dress and was as
excited as any mother would be at her own daughter’s impending wedding.

Everything about his fiancé delighted Paul: her
beauty, her intelligence, the way she reasoned things out, her love of pink
even though she had no real concept of colors. He marveled at the way she could
read Braille and her ability to play the piano. And he smiled at her delightful
sense of humor, her wet shirt sleeves from attempts to get a glass of water
from the pump, her demure smile after a kiss. He had never known this kind of
genuine love before and was consumed by it and by her.

He busied himself at the dining room table, trying to
concentrate on the paperwork laid out before him. But he couldn’t sit for more
than ten minutes at a time before he would find himself looking out the parlor
window again.

He heard the sound of someone shoveling snow nearby
and went out on the porch to find the neighbor boy engrossed in cleaning off
their walkway.

“Say, Tyler. Are you hiring your shovel out again this
winter?”

“Sure, Mr. Strupel. I can do your walk just as soon as
I finish ours, if that’s all right with you.”

“That’ll be fine. Thank you. Be sure to stop in when
you finish so I can pay you.”

“Sure will, Mr. Strupel.” The thirteen year old was
more than happy to shovel for pay.

After looking down the street for signs of Amelia, he
returned to his paperwork, alternating it with peering out the window. Without
his Angel, time seemed to almost stand still.

›
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Amelia was aware that there was an unusual stillness
in the air as she arose to begin her day. The air felt more crisp and fresher
than usual. She was thankful that her Aunt had stoked the fire in her small
wood stove in the corner of her room before she retired sometime in the middle
of the night. Otherwise it would certainly have been quite chilly in there now.

She went through her usual morning rituals and was
finally ready to head out the kitchen door to visit the privy and then on to
visit her Sweetheart.

Jeremiah had insisted that he walk behind her for the
first week after Paul was wounded, just to be sure she wouldn’t get lost going
there by herself. He knew she was in love with Paul and that she had accepted
his proposal of marriage, and he remained a wonderful friend to her. Amelia
smiled to think of her big mountain man friend.

After taking her first step out the door she quickly
withdrew it, for there was something unusual on the ground that she had stepped
in. She poked and prodded with her cane and soon discovered that whatever it
was the ground was covered with it. Then she remembered Paul and Corrin trying
desperately to describe snow to her.

“That’s it. This must be snow!”

Excitedly, she bent over and touched the chilly fluff
and then scooped some up in her hands. It was cold and wet and it scrunched
together when she squeezed it, forming into a firm mass. This must be a
snowball. She threw it, but didn’t hear it alight on the ground.

She hurriedly went back to her room to get the
goulashes and kidskin gloves Corrin had purchased for her, and then hastened
back outside, bumping into things carelessly along the way.

Outside again, Amelia found the corner of the saloon,
backed against it, and then began her trek to the outhouse. Her cane didn’t
seem to be as useful as usual, unable to make the familiar tapping noises. And
it was difficult to walk in the substance. She quickly discovered that she had
to lift her feet high before setting them down again. Because of this, her
steps were bigger, and she arrived at the outhouse sooner than usual, bumping
her forehead against the side of the wooden structure.

Amelia quickly realized that if the size of her footsteps
were off, she would be in danger of walking right past Paul’s house. She would
have to have an escort. But who? Her aunt wouldn’t arouse from her comfy bed
for hours yet, and Amelia longed to be with her Fiancé. He needed her to help
him up the stairs, to play the piano for him, or to read to him from the
marvelous Braille books he purchased for her.

The thought occurred to her that if she could just be
patient for about an hour, Beau would be along, and perhaps he wouldn’t mind
taking her to the Strupel home. So she retreated back inside and retrieved a
book to read in the kitchen for awhile, but tired of it quickly. When the
anticipation of her plan had become too overpowering for her to sit still any
longer, she gave up and tromped her way around the perimeter of the saloon to
the front porch to wait for Beau there. The air was still and silent and cold. And
she loved it.

Shortly, she heard the familiar barking and soon the
two, very wet dogs jumped onto the porch and put their front paws on her lap and
licked her face.

“Mike, Toby! Stop that now, you hear me? Good morning,
Miss Jackson. I reckon I didn’t expect to see your pretty face out here on the
porch on such a cold morning as this one.”

“Good morning to you, Beau. I think this is a fine
morning. This is the first time I have ever felt snow, you know.”

“Naw, can’t be! I don’t reckon I ever heard of a body
that ain’t seen snow before.”

“I’m not fooling you, Beau. Where I come from, all we
ever get is rain---no snow. Actually, the reason I am out here on the porch is
that I wanted to ask you if you would do me a favor, if you please.”

“Me? Why I reckon I’d be right pleased to be doing
something for you, Ma’am. What’ll it be?”

“Well, you know how Paul Strupel got shot about ten
days ago?”

“Sure, Ma’am. Was a right awful thing that happened to
such a nice fellow as Paul. We’re pretty good friends, I reckon. Known him now
going on thirty years. I went to see how he was getting along the other day.”

“Yes, I remember. Well, because of the snow on the
ground I can’t go to him unless I have someone to guide me---”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head no more, Miss
Jackson. Why, I’d be right proud to see you to Paul’s house. You ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m ready. I can’t tell you how much I
appreciate this favor. If there is ever anything I can do for you, just let me
know.”

Amelia demonstrated to him how he should hold his arm
up for her and asked him to walk slowly so she can keep up with him. In the
past, he usually just grabbed her hand and dragged her along. She was delighted
at the carefulness he displayed as he gently helped her get through the snow. She
slipped twice, and both times he put out a strong hand and caught her, keeping
her from falling. He behaved as if he were escorting the Queen of England.

“Never did I think I’d be escorting the prettiest lady
in town,” he said as he chuckled. “Don’t you suppose those society ladies in
their big houses would be jumping plumb out of their breeches if they saw you
and me just strolling on down the street?” Beau’s laugh was loud and hearty and
contagious.

He was great company, and he definitely had no lack of
conversation. From previous encounters with him during the early morning hours,
Amelia realized how easily she could get him to tell her a story from the
mountains where he lived. They were sometimes amusing or endearing and often,
unbelievable. And he was engaged in one of those now. This one was about the
time an old bear came down from his lair and almost ran off with his ‘littlest
youngun’. The stories he told were often ludicrous, but the knack he had for
spinning tales was enchanting.

In practically no time at all they were at Paul’s
house. She heard his door open and close and knew he must have been anxiously
waiting for her and figured he was probably now on the porch.