An Angel in the Mail

by Callie Hutton

  “Hi, Julia-Rose,” she whispered.

  Julia-Rose’s face screwed up and she whimpered.

  Panic set in. Angel’s eyes darted to the kitchen where Nate had disappeared. “It’s all right.”

  The baby opened her mouth and let out a wail that would surely raise the dead.

  Angel’s mouth dried up. “Oh, oh, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” She looked around, frantic. The back door slammed. Nate had gone outside for something. None of the boys were around.

  Angel jiggled the little girl. She cried harder, threw herself back, and since Angel wasn’t prepared for that, the baby landed with a thump on the settee. If possible, she cried harder. Oh God, suppose she’s broken?

  The baby kicked her feet, catching Angel in her stomach. “Oomph.”

  Maybe walking with the baby would work. The child flailed her arms and legs. No matter how many times Angel tried to grab hold of her, she wiggled, and scurried away.

  “What’s all that racket? Why is my sister screaming?” Mark stood, hands fisted, glaring at Angel.

  “I’m not sure.” She panted, still trying to wrestle the baby into her arms.

  “You did something to her.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “No, I didn’t. She just started crying.”

  Mark scowled, picked up the baby, who immediately stopped. Throwing a glance in Angel’s direction, he left the room with Julia-Rose smiling, her little nose all pink.

  Angel collapsed on the settee. That went well.

  What should she do now? The baby was quiet and Nate was still occupied. Too bad, because that gave her time to consider what she’d been pushing to the back of her mind for days. Since her stepmother’s shocking announcement, she had worried herself sick about performing the household duties of cleaning, cooking, laundry and numerous other things that hadn’t even occurred to her yet. Now that she was actually here, and aware of the warm, vital presence of Nathan Hale, she allowed herself to consider other wifely duties.

  She remembered years ago, the girls at school would gather on their beds at night, and talk about boys. Never invited to join them, once in a while she would hear clips of the conversation, although mostly she remained ignorant of the whole procedure. However, she was intelligent enough to know Nate didn’t get all of these children by shaking his wife’s hand each night before they fell asleep.

  The procedure involved naked bodies, and that thought made her seriously consider bolting from the house.

  She wondered if her husband would give her time to adjust, as it were, to her role before he expected his husbandly rights.

  Chapter 5

  Once the last bite of supper was eaten, Angel managed to get the dishes washed with help from the boys. Her yellow dress was soaked down the front with soapy water. Tired of pushing her hair back while she worked, she’d quickly braided it, tied it with a piece of string one of the twins had given her, and let it hang down her back. She’d slipped her aching feet out of the dancing shoes she’d worn with this dress to a ball from a different lifetime. Barefoot was better than pain. Obviously her wardrobe would not work in her new environment.

  She eased herself down on one of the kitchen chairs, and slumped over the table, her head resting on her crossed arms.

  “Julia-Rose needs a bath.”

  Her head jerked up. Nate stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding the little girl in his arms. “If you get her bathed and settled for the night, I’ll see to the boys.”

  “Oh.” She rose stiffly and took the drooling baby from his arms. Smashed peas decorated her hair, the remains of a biscuit stuck to her chin. But at least she wasn’t crying. Not yet, anyway.

  Nate studied her for a minute. “The kitchen sink.”

  “What?”

  “The kitchen sink.” He gestured with his chin. “That’s where we give her a bath.”

  “Oh.”

  Such stimulating conversation can only be learned in the ballrooms of New York City. He turned and headed to the back of the house.

  Angel held the little girl at arm’s length. “So, the kitchen sink.”

  Julia-Rose gurgled, waving her food-encrusted hands in the air.

  No help here.

  Nate returned with a tub, dragged it into the kitchen and filled it with hot water he’d heated on the stove. He herded the boys down the stairs, and one by one they entered the tub, scrubbed themselves and stepped out, drying their bodies with the cloth he handed them. He supervised the whole process with a system he’d obviously perfected over time.

  Trying not to watch him too closely, lest he realize this was all new to her, Angel filled the kitchen sink with warm water, holding Julia-Rose with one arm. The soggy diaper landed with a plop on her bare foot when she unpinned it. She eased the baby into the water where she slapped it with her hands, laughing hysterically. Water dripped from Angel’s hair, past her nose, onto the bodice of her dress. She reached for the soap, letting the baby go for a minute. Julia-Rose immediately slid beneath the water. Angel frantically pulled the little girl up, who coughed and screamed loud enough to wake the dead. She patted her on the back and snuck a glance at Nate.

  “Everything all right over there?” He shouted over his shoulder as he handed a cloth to John.

  Yes, just dandy. Thank God your back was turned. I almost drowned your daughter, and she probably hates me.

  “No problem. Julia-Rose got a little bit of water in her mouth.”

  “We’re almost done here. You about finished?”

  “Um, in a few minutes.” She wrestled Julia-Rose through the rest of her bath, managing to keep the child’s head above water by holding her loosely by her gathered up, wet hair. Once rinsed off, she picked up the wet, wiggling little body and looked around for a towel. Not seeing one, she pulled up the bottom of her dress and wrapped the baby in it. She hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  Angel laid the baby on the bed. She crawled away. Angel dragged her back by her feet. Julia-Rose flipped onto her back, giggling. She reached for a clean diaper, but no matter which way she tried to put it on the baby’s bottom, it fell off.

  Sweat beaded her forehead. This can’t be that difficult. You were top in your class at school.

  Eventually, the diaper stayed put, even though she doubted it was on correctly. Angel placed the sweet-smelling little girl in the crib across from Nate’s bed. Then sang four songs before the baby’s little chest rose and fell in sleep.

  Julia-Rose had slipped her fingers into her rosebud mouth, sucking gently. Angel leaned over and smoothed the blonde ringlets from her face. Her finger slid down her soft cheek. Something in her heart twisted as she gazed on the sleeping child. She kissed two fingers and laid them on Julia-Rose’s forehead.

  As she eased the door closed, she met Nate in the shadowed hallway.

  “Boys are all asleep,” he said. “I’ll go to the bathhouse in town tonight so you can have privacy for your bath. I’ll move the tub into the parlor near the fireplace where it will be warmer.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” She gave him a small smile.

  “I put the water on to heat. It shouldn’t take too long.” He left her in the hall as he grabbed his shaving equipment and clean clothes from the bedroom, and whistling cheerfully, left the house.

  A half hour later, she sat at the table, drumming nervous fingers, waiting for the water to heat. Oh Lord, I know what he’ll expect when he returns.

  By the smile on his face, and the heat in his eyes, there wouldn’t be any time to allow her to adjust to her new role before her wifely duties began. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. He seemed too kind to force himself on her, but they would be occupying the same bed. And from conversations overheard at boarding school, she knew what that meant.

 
Nate eased into the large iron bathtub, and sighed as welcoming hot water washed over him. He fingered a small glass of brandy by his side, and clamped a cheroot between his teeth. Things may have been difficult last night, with Angel so worn out, but tonight he would have his wedding night. His bride was, at this moment, immersed in hot water up to her interesting parts, probably soaking in something sweet smelling.

  She looked a little out of place in that frilly yellow dress she’d worn today. And it was a sopping mess when she got through giving the baby her bath. It looked almost as if she had joined the little girl in the sink. Hopefully, she wasn’t as clumsy at everything else.

  He blew smoke rings in the air while he imagined her getting out of the tub, all pink and flushed, how she would look when he made love to her. The thought of her soft, smooth skin brought his manhood to full attention. She was certainly a sweet little thing. Soon he would run his fingers through her long, silky hair, and kiss his way down her body. He would start with the eyelids covering those beautiful blue eyes. Did the blue darken with passion? He couldn’t wait to find out.

  Being young, and untouched, it would be important for him to take it slow. The poor girl looked a little frightened when he’d left. He probably should give her time to adjust before he exercised his marital rights, but that would only increase her tension, with her watching his every move, waiting for him to jump her.

  He took a final sip of his brandy, doused the cheroot and started washing. Eager to finish his bath, he had better things to do.

  Never having prepared her own bath before, Angel soon appreciated what maids had done for her all of her life. She groaned as she lifted the heavy bucket from the stove, and struggled into the parlor to pour the hot water into the bathtub. Although she appreciated Nate placing the bathtub in front of the parlor fire, it required her to walk back and forth from the kitchen, lugging water. Amy must’ve been strong as a horse. She snorted. That was probably what killed her.

  The soft glow from the oil lamp on the small table near the tub highlighted the trail of water from the kitchen stove to the bathtub. Her arm already ached from lugging the water, so she would mop it up later. Of course, that meant she would have to find the mop first. She glanced at the clock and grimaced. Nate would be home soon, and she hadn’t even started her bath.

  After two more painful trips, the tub was finally filled. Stripping off her soggy dress and dirty undergarments, she submerged herself in the warm water and smiled. She laid her head back against the tub, enjoying the warmth enveloping her sore muscles. Lazily, she swirled her fingers through the water and then sat up abruptly. No soap or towels.

  Sweet smelling soap and warm fluffy towels had always been there for her, placed by an unknown employee. Cautiously she stood and stepped out of the tub. Her wet feet left a puddle on the floor. She dripped her way across the room, and up the stairs to the bedroom, hoping one of the boys didn’t wander out to catch their new mama wet and naked, running around the house.

  Her cold, stiff fingers tossed dresses aside as she rummaged in her trunk for scented soap. Goose bumps dotted her skin, and she shivered, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Hugging the soap to her chest, she hurried downstairs, and finally located a towel from the clean laundry basket in the washroom. The only one left. The rest of the room was piled high with dirty clothes. She groaned. More work for her tomorrow.

  Angel dragged a kitchen chair behind her as she returned to the parlor, and placed the items on the bare wooden seat, so it’d be within easy reach. The cooling water didn’t feel quite so wonderful as she settled back in.

  After a few minutes, concerned about the time, she sat up and reached for the soap. It jumped from her wet hands and flew from her grasp, sliding across the floor. She slapped the water in frustration, causing more of it to wash over the side.

  Once more she climbed out, and retrieved the soap. Back in the tub, she used her hands to make lather, and rubbed up and down her arms and legs, before moving to the rest of her body. Next she splashed the water over herself, trying to get the soap off. More soapy water landed on the floor.

  She dunked her head and washed her hair. But there was no maid standing there with a bucket to pour clean water over her head. How in heaven’s name would she get the soap out? Clustered strands of wet, soapy hair fell in her face and stung her eyes. With no other choice she sucked in a breath and dunked her head back into the dirty water, hoping most of the soap would come out as she wiggled her fingers through the wet strands.

  She sat up and ran her hands over her hair. The soap hadn’t all come out, and rivulets of it ran into her eyes. She blindly stretched her hand out toward the chair. When her hand touched the wood, then the soft cotton, she pulled the towel to her face and wiped her eyes. Holding her nose, she dunked once more, and then blinking at a furious pace against the burn in her eyes, stood, and put one foot on the floor.

  Before she could take her other leg out of the tub, her foot slipped on the soapy water and she slid backward. Arms flailing, she grabbed for the chair next to the tub. It turned over and her body landed sideways on top of it. She went down with a thud. Blinding white pain in her side was the last thing she felt before darkness descended.

  Nate left the bathhouse feeling good. He carried his dirty clothes in a bundle under his arm, and nodded at several people as he rode past on his horse. A typical Saturday night, the saloons were doing a good business. The sheriff’s palomino stood tied to the hitching post outside the Black Lily, one of the more popular saloons.

  Sheriff Travis could be there for business or pleasure. Once in a while things got rowdy on a Saturday night, but most times the lawman was there to indulge in his favorite pastimes of gambling and visiting with the girls upstairs. And he didn’t appreciate it when his fun was interrupted by business.

  Anticipating his own night of fun, Nate picked up the pace. After arriving home, he brushed the horse, and fed him some oats. Certain he’d given Angel enough time, he hurried up the steps, and let himself in through the back door.

  Silence greeted him. Perhaps Angel waited for him upstairs, possibly in a frilly white nightgown, sitting up in bed, all sweet-smelling, and shy. A single lamp would be burning, and he would leave it on, unless it made his new bride uncomfortable. There was plenty of time for him to talk her into better lighting.

  Whistling a soft tune, he tossed his clothes on the dirty laundry pile, and walked past the kitchen. He glanced into the parlor, and his jaw dropped. Angel lay sprawled on top of a chair, naked, soaking wet, and holding her side as she moaned.

  “Angel, what happened?” He ran to her and knelt in a puddle of water.

  “Fell.” She gasped. “Can’t move, or take a deep breath.”

  Nate eased the chair out from under her and she let out a sharp squeak. “Okay, honey, hold on.” He dashed upstairs, and yanked the blanket off the bed. Then he ran to the boys’ room, and woke up Matt.

  “Matt, come with me. Angel fell and I have to go for the doctor.”

  Rubbing his eyes, Matt followed him downstairs. Nate hurried over to Angel and covered her naked body with the blanket.

  “Is she dead?” Matt stared wide-eyed when Nate threw the blanket over her entire body, covering even her head in his haste.

  “No, just hurt. I’m going to leave you here with her while I fetch the doctor.”

  Nate hunkered down and pulled the blanket off her face. Angel moaned louder, and a tear ran down her cheek.

  “Honey, I’m going for the doctor. I don’t want you to move until he’s had a chance to examine you. I’m leaving Matt here so you won’t be alone.”

  Her eyes closed, she just nodded, biting her bottom lip, two more tears tracking down her cheeks. Her inability to fill her lungs completely confirmed her injured ribs.

  He stood and turned to Matt. “See if you can mop up m
ost of this water, son. Don’t move her, or let her try to get up, okay?”

  “All right.” Chewing his lip, he glanced from the woman on the floor to his papa. “Will she be all right?”

  “I’m sure of it, but I want the doctor to take a look.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and headed to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Dr. Penrose’s house and office sat at the other end of town. Nate strode to the barn, quickly re-saddled his horse, and took off at a gallop. He didn’t like that Angel said she couldn’t take a deep breath. Hopefully she hadn’t cracked a rib that could be poking into her lung.

  The poor girl certainly had a rough time since she’d arrived. She looked pathetic lying on the floor in pain, with tear-filled eyes. They were not off to a good start.

  He raced through town, past shadowed businesses. The saloons continued to reverberate with noise. Loud laughter and music drifted out the batwing doors as he rode by. The sheriff’s horse still stood patiently in front of the Black Lily.

  At the end of a long, dark road, lights from the doctor’s house provided a beacon. Clumps of mud flew as he tightened the reins on his horse, tossed them over the post and ran up the stairs.

  His frantic banging brought the doctor’s wife and nurse, Mrs. Penrose, to the door. An older woman, she was obviously dressed for bed in her nightgown, with a robe thrown hastily on. Braided silver hair hung down her back, underneath the ruffled cap on her head. Mrs. Penrose smiled at him.

  The Penrose household was used to late night visits. Nate was sure Dr. Penrose, being the only doctor in town, rarely got a complete night’s sleep. The doctor kept patients recovering from illness or injuries in the downstairs bedroom, which allowed supervision throughout the night. Then there were the nighttime visits, such as his, that brought those with pain and misery to his front door.