“There’s not much to know. They all eat, defecate, have sex, and die,” Angel said without thinking.
“You really are bitter, aren’t you?”
Angel winced inwardly. This girl couldn’t possibly understand. Not without having experienced Duke. She should have kept her thoughts to herself rather than blurt them out without forethought. What could she say? “I was raped at eight by a grown man? When he got tired of me, he turned me over to Sally, and she taught me how to do things a nice girl couldn’t even imagine?”
This girl should stay innocent, find a young man, marry him as a virgin, bear his children, and have a family just like the one she came from. She didn’t need to be polluted.
“Don’t ask me anything about men, Miriam. You wouldn’t like what I would tell you.”
“I hope a man looks at me someday the way Michael looks at you.”
Angel didn’t tell her that men had been looking at her like that for longer than she cared to remember. It didn’t mean anything at all.
“Papa says I need a strong man who’ll keep a firm hand on me,” Miriam said. “But I want a man who needs me, too. I want someone who can be tender as well as strong.”
Angel studied Miriam as she sat dreaming in the stall about her Prince Charming. Maybe things would have been different if Michael had met Miriam first. How could he have helped but love her? She was vivacious, unsullied, and devout. Miriam had no ghosts. No devil on her back.
Miriam stood and brushed the hay from her skirt. “I’d better stop dreaming and help Mama with the wash.” She bent and put the camisole and pantalets on Angel’s lap. “Why don’t you try these things on before you make up your mind?”
“I wouldn’t hurt your mother for anything, Miriam.”
The girl’s eyes teared up. “I didn’t think you could.” She left.
Angel leaned her head back. Right from the first, Duke had bought her a wardrobe full of frilly frocks and white lace pinafores and filled her dresser drawers with satin ribbons and bows. Most of her clothes had been made in Paris.
“Be grateful,” Sally had told her, bathing and dressing her meticulously for Duke’s impending visit. “Try to remember you’d be starving on the docks if not for Duke. Say thank you and mean it. Be happy for him. If you become too difficult, Duke will find another little girl who’ll be good, and what do you think will happen to you then?”
The warning still sent chills through her. At eight, Angel had thought Duke would order Fergus to strangle her with his thin black cord and throw her into the alley where she would be eaten by rats. So she tried to be grateful, but it never worked. She feared Duke and loathed him. Only later had her terrible dependence on his good will made her think she loved him. It hadn’t taken long to learn the truth.
Duke still haunted her. He still owned her soul.
No, he doesn’t. I’m in California. He’s four thousand miles away and can’t find me. She was with Michael and the Altmans, and she could decide to change her life. Couldn’t she?
She looked at the pristine garments in her lap. Elizabeth didn’t want anything from her. Unlike Duke, she gave a gift freely without expecting anything back.
Duke’s words mocked her from deep within. “Everybody wants something, Angel. Nobody gives you anything without expecting something back.”
Closing her eyes, she saw Elizabeth’s sweet, pensive face. “I don’t believe you anymore, Duke.”
Don’t you?
Rebelling against the echo of his voice, she stood up swiftly and stripped off her clothing. She put on the new camisole and pantalets. They fit her perfectly. She hugged herself in them. She was going to dress and find Elizabeth and thank her properly. She was going to pretend that she was pure and whole and not let the nightmares of the last ten years destroy it for her.
Not this time. Not if she could help it.
Of all base passions,
fear is most accurs’d.
SHAKESPEARE
Michael worried about Amanda’s growing attachment to the Altman family. John still talked about Oregon as though it were heaven, and spring was closing in fast. As soon as the weather stayed clear, John would be ready to move on. Michael knew he couldn’t count on John’s women holding him back. Good land was the only way to change his mind.
Young Miriam clearly adored Amanda like a sister, and Ruth was her constant shadow. Elizabeth thought her youngest’s attachment to Amanda was endearing, but Michael saw danger in it. Amanda was opening her heart a little more each day. What would happen to her if the Altmans pulled up stakes and left?
He straightened from digging around the stump and looked back toward the cabin. Amanda was toting two buckets from the creek. Elizabeth had a fire going and a big washpot over it, and Miriam was sorting through the basket of wash. Little Ruth skipped along beside Amanda, chattering gaily.
What she needs is a child of her own, Lord.
“She really took to her, didn’t she?” John said, resting on the pick handle and watching Ruthie and Amanda.
“Sure did.”
“Something worrying you, Michael?”
He slammed his boot onto the shovel and slung the dirt aside. “You head north with your family and you’re going to break my wife’s heart.”
“Not to mention Liza’s. She’s adopted your wife, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“There’s good land right here.”
“Not as good as in Oregon.”
“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for in Oregon or anyplace else.”
Michael talked to Amanda that night about selling off a portion of their own land to the Altmans. “I wanted to discuss it with you before mentioning it to him.”
“It won’t make any difference, will it? He spent the whole evening talking about Oregon. He can’t wait to leave.”
“He hasn’t seen the west end of the valley yet,” Michael said. “He may change his mind after that.”
Angel sat up, her heart twisting at the thought of Miriam and Ruth riding away to Oregon. “What’s the use? Once a man’s made up his mind about something, there’s nothing can change it.”
“John’s looking for good farmland.”
“John’s looking for the pot at the end of the rainbow!”
“So we’ll give it to him.” Michael sat up behind her and drew her back against him. “He wants the best for his family. The west end is the best we’ve got.”
“All he ever talks about is Oregon. Elizabeth doesn’t want to go. Neither does Miriam.”
“He thinks the Willamette Valley is Eden.”
Angel jerked out of his arms and stood up. “Then he should’ve gone there in the first place instead of stopping here.” She held herself in tightly and leaned against the wall, looking out at the cabin. It was dark, the lantern extinguished. The Altmans were all sleeping. “I wish they’d never come here. I wish I hadn’t met any of them.”
“They aren’t gone yet.”
She looked back at him, her face white in the moonlight. “Is Oregon that wonderful? Is it Eden like he thinks it is?”
“I don’t know, Tirzah. I’ve never been there.”
Tirzah. His desire for her was in that name. Angel felt tingling warmth run down into her belly when he said it. Tirzah. She tried not to think about what it meant, but when she heard the hay rustle softly as he arose, her heart jumped. She looked up at him as he came close and could hardly draw a breath. When he touched her, she felt a rush of warmth and was afraid. What was this power he had over her?
“Don’t give up hope,” he said, feeling her stiffen as he drew her into his arms. He wanted to tell her they could have a child of their own, but there was time enough for that, and this wasn’t it. Not yet. “John might change his mind when he sees what we’re offering.”
She didn’t think John would even agree to look, but he did. The two men rode away the next morning just after dawn. Angel saw Miriam running across the yard, her shawl thrown carelessly about her shoulder
s. She swung the barn door open and came halfway up the ladder, calling to her. “Mandy. I want to see the west end of the valley, too. It’s only a few miles, from what Michael said.”
Angel came down the ladder. “It’s not going to make any difference.”
“You’re as bad as Mama. We’re not packed and rolling yet.”
Miriam talked most of the way, coming up with all sorts of outlandish plans of how to prevent her father’s exodus. Angel knew on a month’s acquaintance that if John Altman said, “Go,” Elizabeth and Miriam would.
“There’s Papa and Michael,” Miriam said, “but who’s that man with them?”
“Paul,” Angel said, steeling herself. She hadn’t seen him since that miserable ride back to Pair-a-Dice, and she had no desire to face him now. But what excuse could she possibly use for turning back?
Miriam didn’t even notice her trepidation, curiosity spurring her ahead. The three men spotted them. Michael waved. Angel gritted her teeth. She had no choice but to go ahead. She wondered what form Paul’s attack would take this time.
Michael came to meet her. She forced a smile and kept her chin up. “Miriam wanted to come.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’m glad she dragged you along.”
The men had been digging. Miriam scooped up some dirt. She crumbled it in her hand and smelled it. Her eyes shone as she looked at her father. “It’s rich enough to eat.”
“Couldn’t do much better.”
“Even in Oregon, Papa?”
“Even in Oregon.”
With a squeal Miriam catapulted into his arms, laughing and crying. “Wait’ll Mama hears!”
“Your mother is to know nothing about it. Not until we’ve built a cabin for her. Promise me.”
Miriam wiped the tears away. “One mention of Oregon, Papa, and I’ll spill the beans.”
Angel glanced at Paul. His gaze brushed hers. It was full of silent, seething hatred. She drew her shawl more tightly around her. She had drawn a good amount of his blood that day on the road. She had put the knife in as deeply as she could. He looked at her again, longer this time. A wounded animal, enraged and dangerous.
“Paul is handsome,” Miriam said on the walk back. “Such dark, brooding eyes.”
Angel said nothing. Just before he’d ridden away, Paul had tipped his hat to her. No one but she had noticed, nor had they seen the expression in his eyes—an expression that consigned her to Hades.
The men began work the next morning. Paul met them with his ax and adze. Michael located four large stones for the foundation. They began felling trees.
Jacob learned the secret the third day when he followed Miriam with the lunch. He was sworn to silence and set to work. By the time Michael and John returned with him, the boy was too tired to speak.
“What are you doing to him?” Elizabeth asked. “He can barely keep his head out of the stew.”
“Clearing land is hard work.”
Angel worked with Elizabeth. She wanted to avoid Paul, but even more, she wanted more time with Elizabeth and Ruthie. Elizabeth sensed it and asked her to watch over the children while she baked. Angel learned tag, hide-and-seek, blindman’s bluff and leapfrog. She stood on the creek bank and skipped rocks with Ruthie and Andrew. Most of all, she thought about how precious little time she had left with them.
“The children follow her about like chicks,” Elizabeth told John. “She’s like a big sister to them.”
Miriam took Angel aside. “The walls are up.” Then, “The roof’s set.” Angel heard each report with sinking heart. “Paul’s made enough shingles to cover the roof.” Then, “Michael and Paul are working on the fireplace.” In a few days, the cabin would be finished, and the Altmans would leave. Two miles began to seem like two thousand.
Paul would be their nearest neighbor. How long before he poisoned their affection?
The weather was clear and warming. “There’s no reason to take further advantage of the Hoseas’ hospitality,” John said. “It’s time we found a place of our own.” He told Elizabeth to start packing.
Pale and tight-lipped, Elizabeth set to work.
“I’ve never seen her so angry,” Miriam said. “She hasn’t said a word to Papa since he said we were leaving. Now it’s pure cussed stubbornness that keeps him from telling her.”
Angel helped Miriam load the wagon. Andrew filled the water barrel hanging from the side, and Jacob helped John hitch up the horses. When Elizabeth came and embraced her, Angel couldn’t speak.
“I shall miss you dearly, Amanda,” Elizabeth whispered brokenly. She patted her cheek like one of her children. “Take good care of that man of yours. There aren’t many around like him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Angel said.
Miriam squeezed her hard and whispered, “You’re a wonderful actress. You really look like you’re saying good-bye to us for good.” Little Ruth was inconsolable and clung to Angel until she thought her heart would break. Why wouldn’t they just go and be done with it? Miriam took Ruthie and whispered something that silenced the child, then lifted her into the back of the wagon with Leah. Ruth looked at Angel, and her face was glowing. All the children knew the secret now.
“I’ll give you a hand up, Liza,” John said.
She didn’t look at him. “Thank you, but I think I’ll walk awhile.”
As soon as they started off, Michael went to saddle his horse. Angel stood in the yard, watching the wagon roll away. She missed them already and could feel the gap widening like a chasm she couldn’t cross. She kept remembering Mama sending her off with Cleo to the sea. She went into the house and packed a basket with sweet biscuits and winter apples. Nothing was going to be the same.
Paul was at the cabin when the two of them arrived. He had a side of venison roasting on the spit. Angel hung up the curtains Elizabeth had made for Michael’s cabin while the men talked. Michael went out to see if he could spot the Altmans yet. Angel felt Paul’s cold gaze on her back.
“I bet they don’t know anything about you, do they, Angel?”
She turned and faced him. He wouldn’t believe the truth if she told him. “I like them very much, Paul, and I wouldn’t want them to be hurt.”
He sneered. “Meaning you hope I’ll keep your sordid past a secret.”
She saw it was no use appealing to him. “Meaning you’ll do what you think you have to,” she said dully. How long before he made them see her for what she really was? It would be very little time at all before they realized the animosity he held toward her, and they would wonder and ask why. What could she tell them? “He wanted me to pay for a ride, and I gave him the only currency I had”?
Why had she ever let herself get involved with these people? Why had she allowed herself to like them? She knew it was a mistake from the beginning.
“Love is debilitating,” Sally had said.
“Have you ever been in love?” Angel had asked.
“Once.”
“Who was it?”
“It’s Duke.” She gave a bitter laugh. “But I’ve always been too old for him.”
A cold voice broke into her thoughts. “Scared, aren’t you?” Paul’s smile was stone cold. Angel went outside. She couldn’t breathe in the cabin. The pain was beginning already. It was the same pain she felt the day she heard her father say he wished she had never been born, the same pain when Mama died, the same when she learned of Lucky’s death. She had even felt pain the first time Duke gave her to another man.
Everyone to whom she drew close left her. Sooner or later they walked away. Or died. Or lost interest. Love someone, and it was a guarantee. Mama, Sally, Lucky. Now Miriam, Ruthie, and Elizabeth.
How could I forget what it felt like?
Because Michael fed you hope, and hope is deadly.
Sally told her once that you had to be like a stone because people would chip away at you, and that stone had to be big enough that they would never reach the very heart of you.
Angel saw Michael standing in the sunlight
, strong and beautiful. Her heart twisted inside her. He of all of them had chipped away the most, and sooner or later, he would walk out of her life and leave a hole where her heart had been.
He came to her, and when he saw the look on her face, his eyes darkened. “Did Paul say something to hurt you?”
“No,” she rasped. “No. He didn’t say anything.”
“Something’s upset you.”
I’m falling in love with you. Oh, God, I don’t want to, but I am. You’re becoming the air that I breathe. I’m losing Elizabeth and Miriam and Ruthie. How long will it be before I lose you, too? She looked away. “Nothing’s upset me. I’m just worried what Elizabeth will say to all this.”
It wasn’t long before she had her answer. The wagon came over the rise and drew close. Elizabeth stared in disbelief, looking from the cabin to John, who jumped from the wagon seat, a broad grin on his face. Then Elizabeth wept and threw herself into John’s arms, telling him he was a wretch and she adored him.
“You should apologize, Mama,” Miriam laughed. “You’ve been horrid to him ever since we left the Hoseas’.” John took his wife’s hand, and they headed out for a walk to see their land.
Miriam set right to work in the cabin, but it wasn’t long before she stopped and looked at Angel. “You and Paul aren’t on friendly terms, are you?”
“Not very,” Angel said. Ruth tugged her skirt, and Angel lifted her, setting Ruth on her hip.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Miriam dried her hands and took Ruth and set her down again. “Mandy has to help me make a cake, and she needs both hands to do it. Don’t stick your lip out at me, young lady.” She turned her around and gave the little girl’s bottom a light swat. “Michael’s right outside. Ask him to give you a piggyback ride.” She set out the bowls and glanced at Angel. “Now, tell me what it’s all about.”
“What?”
“You know what. You and Paul. Was he in love with you before you married Michael?”
Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “Hardly.”
Miriam frowned. “He didn’t approve.”
Redeeming Love Page 26
