Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (9 page)

Bringing Amelia here turned out to be the best thing
he’d done in a long time.

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It amazed Amelia that Paul knew the names of so many
of these flowers. He identified wild lilies, butterfly weed, Indian paintbrush,
wild columbines, creeping phlox, bluebells, larkspur and shooting star. By the
time he finished, her lap was blanketed with a quilt of sweet scented
wildflowers.

She had never been in such an enchanting place as this
and wished she could savor this luscious bouquet forever. This place was exhilarating
to the point that she could hardly contain herself. In a moment of spontaneous,
youthful whimsy, she sprang to her feet and ran through the field. Paul had
said this was a meadow so she wasn’t concerned about the terrain. It would be
flat. It had been so long since she and Molly had run across the spacious lawns
of the Dodson plantation, and she wasn’t about to let anything stop her from
her jubilation.

She heard Paul’s heavy footsteps quickly catching up
with her, and as quick as she could take a breath, Amelia turned and ran in
another direction. She felt him grab hold of her arm, but she was able to slip
through his fingers. Paul chased her to and fro, and every time he thought he
had her, she eluded him as skillfully as a sighted person. Finally, he caught
her and they both tumbled to the ground, laughing and out of breath. They lay
in the flowers until their respiration quieted and returned to normal.

“Amelia Jackson, you never cease to amaze me.” He sat
up and she could almost feel his gaze on her.

“Paul, would you mind if I felt your face to see what
you look like?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I guess it
makes sense. Go ahead.”

She sat up, moved very close to him, and reached
upward toward his face. He caught her hands and gently guided them to his
cheeks. Amelia slowly touched her way around every inch of Paul’s face to gain
a sense of what he looked like.

The delicate whisper of her fingers traced his wide-set
eyes, moved about his forehead, then along his cheekbones. She could feel his
breath upon her palms. Her fingers continued to follow the contour of his face,
across his nose, and then brushed over his lips. His breathing intensified, and
by the time she ran her fingers through his long, wavy hair, he was nearly
holding his breath.

“You have a very nice face.” Amelia dropped her hands
to her lap and smiled. “What color are your eyes?”

“They’re brown.”

“And your hair?”

“It’s dark brown.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then he
suddenly reached out and gently glided his fingers along the contour of her
cheek down to her chin. He cupped both hands around her face and drew her
toward him, kissing her slowly and tenderly on her mouth.

Amelia’s breathing nearly stopped and she believed she
might faint. She withdrew abruptly, stood to her feet, turned, and walked away
from him. She felt dizzy. Putting her hand to her forehead, she had to have a moment
to herself to catch her breath and to think. Her emotions were all muddled and
going wild. Until a short time ago, her major concern had been whether she
looked presentable for visiting a logging camp and Jeremiah Cowan. Now, it
seemed as if she would suffocate under the weight of having apparently won the
affections of two gentlemen at the same time.

“Amelia! Amelia, please wait.” Paul followed her. “Please,
stop. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

“You didn’t offend me,” Amelia said as she continued
pacing forward.

“Then what is it? Please, tell me.” He grabbed her by
the shoulders and drew her back to immobilize her.

She turned around and pointed her head toward the
ground. “You took me by surprise. I’ve... never been kissed like that before. I
had no idea you felt that way about me.” She paused a moment before continuing
in a near whisper. “And you took my breath away.”

Paul lifted her chin. “I’ve felt this way about you
from the moment you first entered the saloon with Mr. Johnston on Monday
afternoon.”

“You were one of the two men who were there that day? You
carried my trunk up to my room?”

“Yes. And you were wearing a pretty, pink skirt and a
white shirt with lace ruffles around your neck. I thought I was gazing into the
face of an angel.”

Amelia breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind,
still wanting additional time to think about what had just happened.

“Paul, what time were you supposed to meet Jeremiah?”

“Four o’clock.”

“And what time is it now?”

She heard the click of his watch latch. “It’s four-ten.
It’s time to leave.”

He escorted her back to the horse, helped her up,
mounted behind her, and they rode off in silence, Amelia secretly holding the
memories of the enchanting wildflower meadow in her wildly beating heart.

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Fifteen more minutes of steady riding carried them to
the Cowan Brother’s Logging Company. Paul dismounted, and then helped Amelia
off the horse. He guided her to the cookhouse and upon entering, they were
greeted by the delicious aromas of the evening meal being prepared.

“Well, Miss Jackson, this certainly is an unexpected
pleasure,” Biscuit’s jovial voice cut through the silence as his heavy boots
clunked toward them across the wooden floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Todd. And how are you today?”

“I’m doing very well, ma’am.” Biscuit then turned his
attention to Paul. “The Boss wasn’t too happy about your being late,” he scolded
the mill owner. “Said he didn’t have time to waste like the idle city
businessmen do. Said he had
real
work to do and to let him know
if you finally showed up.”

“Well then, Biscuit. Why don’t you tell him I’m here?”

The cook snickered and headed outside. Paul escorted
her to a bench at a rough, wooden table. A minute later, a loud bell chimed three
solid strokes, then two. Biscuit returned and offered Amelia a cup of coffee.

“No thank you. But I would like a glass of water, if
you don’t mind.”

“Coming right up.” Within seconds, he returned and
placed a cool, tin cup into her hands.

“Thank you.” Allowing its refreshing element to wash
through her like a tonic renewing her spirits, Amelia drank away her thirst.

“I think a cup of water would be nice,” Paul hinted.

“What do I look like, your charwoman? You know where
it is, Strupel. Help yourself.”

Paul walked across the room, mumbling loudly enough so
everyone could hear. “I don’t know why the Cowans keep him around here. Why, if
he were
my
employee...”

Amelia heard the gentle swirl of water as he ladled
some into a cup over to the water barrel and he returned, sitting nearby on the
bench.

Amelia wondered if Biscuit ever had a bad day. He
seemed so quick to have fun with every situation that came his way. “May I have
some more, please?” She poured on her sweetest Southern accent and held her cup
into the air for anyone to grab.

“Why of course, ma’am,” Biscuit jumped to do her
bidding.

“Oh sure. You treat her like royalty and all I get is
the royal boot,” Paul bantered.

She laughed at the two and was still laughing, when
someone entered the cookhouse. She judged two men by the sound of their
footsteps.

“Well, Strupel,” Jeremiah said. “I had planned to bawl
you out royally---”

In unison, Paul, Biscuit and Amelia burst out laughing
again.

“But,” he continued, “Amelia’s presence has completely
changed my disposition.” He walked up to her, took her hand in both of his, and
kissed it. “It’s so nice to see you here, Amelia. We don’t get female visitors
up here very often. You just livened this dreary place with that pretty smile
of yours.”

“Thank you, Jeremiah. I enjoyed the ride up here.”

Paul must have thought his friend was standing much
too close to her, because he walked around the two and positioned himself
beside Amelia. She heard some papers rattle. “I’ve got the contract.” She
figured he addressed Jeremiah.

Jeremiah dropped Amelia’s hand and snatched the papers
away from Paul. “Oh, Strupel. Are you still here?”

Aaron Cowan and Biscuit cackled with laughter.

“Do I detect the other Cowan brother?” Amelia asked. “Why
so quiet today?”

“Oh, I was just waiting for the fight.”

“Fight?”

“Well, maybe fight isn’t the correct word. But, when
you put these two together, watch out! Biscuit and I have an ongoing bet to see
how quickly they get in the first jab and which one of them does it first.”

Amelia thought Aaron and Biscuit wouldn’t be able to
stop laughing. They were contagious and she found herself joining them.

“Who won the bet today?” she asked.

“I did!” Aaron whooped. “You owe me two bits, Biscuit
man.”

“Thanks for betting on me, brother,” Jeremiah said. “I
try not to let you down.”

“I’ve been winning a lot lately. Strupel here seems to
be turning over a new leaf or something. He’s not as quick with the put-downs
as he used to be.”

“All right, could we finally get down to the business
that brought me here in the first place?” Paul sounded annoyed with the other
men.

“Before you do,” Amelia spoke out. “Would one of you
gentlemen please direct me to the privy?” She preferred feminine assistance
when nature called, and she blushed at having to ask such a question of these
men.

“Privy!” shrieked Biscuit. “Why, ma’am, there are
sometimes as many as a hundred men up here in this camp and thousands of trees
all around us. What would we need an outhouse for?”

“Oh, dear.” Amelia lowered her head toward the ground
and felt her cheeks becoming hot. It hadn’t occurred to her . . .

“Biscuit, don’t fluster her like that,” Jeremiah
chided the cook. “Of course we have an outhouse, Amelia. Sometimes he just doesn’t
know the proper time to be serious. It’s behind the shanties.” He took her arm
and led her out of the cookhouse.

“I was surprised to see you up here, Amelia. And
pleased,” he told her as soon as they were away from the others.

“Paul said he was coming up here anyway, and I was
bored, so I agreed to come along. I thought it would be a nice deviation from
the normal routine.”

“It’s definitely a nice deviation from
my
normal routine. I’m glad you came. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Ah,
here it is.” They had arrived at the outhouse.

When she emerged, Jeremiah took her arm once again,
and after taking a few steps, he stopped.

“I want to invite you to a dance next Saturday night. Some
townspeople are throwing a party for Corrin’s fortieth birthday at the Silver
Slipper, and I wondered if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me? Do you
dance, Amelia?”

She was so confused right now and was unsure how she
felt about him. So much had happened since Tuesday night when her heart raced
for the first time at his closeness. She wished she could put it all into words
in a similar manner to the way he had opened up with her at dinner that
splendid night.

“Yes, I love to dance. That is, if my partner doesn’t
mind a few bruised toes.”

“Well then? Will you go with me?”

“Yes, Jeremiah. I’m sure I would like that very much.”
She wanted to see what he looked like, but after the affect it had on Paul
Strupel, she quickly put it out of her mind, saving that for another time.

“Great! Thank you. I’ll enjoy myself so much more now.
I’ll be at your door at seven-thirty next Saturday night.”

“That will be fine.”

Starting back toward the camp, Jeremiah secured the
hand she had under his arm with his. Rather than return immediately to the
others, he decided to give her a tour of the camp, allowing her to feel the
sturdy log walls of the huge shanties where the men bunked. He explained how a
couple dozen men lived in each building. He took his time as he detailed how
the logging operation worked, describing the individual jobs performed by the
fellers, butters, buckers and skidders who dragged or floated the sixteen foot
logs down to Strupel’s Mill to be cut into boards of varying sizes.

Amelia wondered if Paul would be worried at her
prolonged absence. She didn’t know how soon he’d wanted to leave. “Should we
get back to the cookhouse now?”

“Just one more thing to show you about our
operations.”

Jeremiah then took even more of her time by explaining
the types of axes and saws used by the lumberjacks. Finally, he must have run
out of things to show her, so there was nothing more to do than to return to
the others.

“There you are! I was just about to go look for you,”
Paul said anxiously as they entered the cookhouse. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Paul,” Amelia answered, knowing quite
well that he was actually saying that he was concerned about her being with
Jeremiah so long, that he doesn’t trust him with her, that he wants her all to
himself, that he didn’t want her falling for Jeremiah. But in her confused
state, she thought it might be too late. Both men had managed to excite her in
ways she had never known. In Georgia, gentlemen took plenty of time for
courtship, but out here in the West, these men went straight for a lady’s heart.