Mail Order Angelique

by Margaret Tanner

  Celia punched her in the face, Angel punched her back. A kick in the shins almost knocked her to the floor. Robbie’s screaming reminded her of what she was – a mother fighting for her child.

  They grappled and fought. Celia was crazed, stronger and taller with a much longer reach. She had the strength of a mad man. Angel knew she had to do something drastic as her strength was ebbing.

  Celia clawed at her face and she screamed. Sensing her victim weakening, this evil woman was coming in for the kill.

  Angel bobbed down, grabbed her foe’s leg and with all her might twisted it until she collapsed on her back. Then she leapt over and grabbed either side of her face and banged her head against the floor, once, twice. Still Celia fought and struggled.

  With every vestige of strength, she could muster, Angel slammed her head on the floor again. Three times in quick succession until her adversary went limp. It was only then she realized blood was pouring from her nose.

  Snatching up the baby she tore out of the house. She had to hide somewhere until the men returned home. If she had it in her she would have picked up the gun and shot Celia between the eyes. She didn’t know whether she was alive or dead. Couldn’t risk checking on her in case she was only pretending to be unconscious.

  Frantically, she glanced around. The bunkhouse, dare she go there? The baby had stopped screaming but was giving soft, piteous little sobs. It was too far away. Her whole body was shaking. She wouldn’t make it that far; her legs were barely able to hold her up.

  The hen house was covered in poop. Celia would never find her there. She staggered over to it and pushed at the enclosure gate. Cackling loudly and flapping their wings the chickens let her know they were upset at her intrusion. Not caring where she stepped, she stumbled to the shed and huddled in the corner near one of the nesting boxes.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” she crooned. “Don’t cry now. Your ma wouldn’t let that crazed witch hurt you.” She undid the bodice of her dress and gave him the breast and he was soon sucking contentedly. In her wildest dreams she would never have believed she would be feeding her baby in a hen house.

  A piece of wood lying close by would be a handy weapon, she grabbed it with her free hand. Celia would never look in here but if she did by some chance, Angel wanted to be ready for her.

  Her cheeks hurt and she realized Celia’s nails must have gone in deep. Her nose ached so much she feared it might be broken. At least it had stopped bleeding.

  She lifted the bottom of her apron and placed it over Robbie to keep away pieces of straw, feathers or poop that might drop from the perches above them. The bottom of her skirt was already covered in muck.

  Keep calm. All you need to do now is wait until the men find you. Bert might have gone to meet Clint and Hughie on the road to help with the stray cattle they had found yesterday and were going to round up.

  It was the only reason she could think of that would make him leave. Both men had been very protective of her, so he would think she was safe to leave for a short time.

  The chickens quietened down, seemingly prepared to ignore her once they realized she wasn’t going to hurt them. Bert had shot a wild turkey yesterday and she had been going to roast it for supper with vegetables and gravy, now there wouldn’t be time to cook it.

  What was wrong with her? She had escaped death by mere inches and was worrying about a wretched turkey. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat and she forced it back down.

  “Where are you hiding you harlot?” The strident tones broke in on her and she froze.

  Celia wasn’t dead she was very much alive.

  “I’ll find you and your brat. You won’t get away from me.”

  Thankfully, the baby was asleep, still sucking her nipple.

  “I’ll find you. Come out now and I might let you live. I know this place like the back of my hand.” She gave a demented cackle. “I’ll find you. You can’t hide from me. Fiddly dee,” she sang. There was no doubt about it this woman was insane.

  “Here chicken, chicken.”

  The blood almost froze in Angel’s veins. She glanced down at Robbie. Please don’t wake up, baby. Please. The piece of wood was close by. It would be a fight to the death now if Celia discovered them, she had no illusion about that.

  The gate of the enclosure shook, the chickens flapped and squawked, followed by silence. Where had the woman gone now? The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She stifled a scream as a huge spider hung from a web in one corner. If it fell it would fall on her. She clenched her teeth to stop them chattering.

  ****

  Clint and Hughie drove the cattle slowly, fifty cows and calves left to starve because they were in a fenced pasture which had been eaten out. Old man Withers had died, his son didn’t want them, so he had left them to fend for themselves.

  “I should have shot the low-down polecat,” Hughie raged.

  “Sheer cruelty,” Clint said. “It’s a disgrace for a man to do that, but it isn’t all bad, we picked them up cheap. I gave him authorization for the bank to hand over a hundred dollars and he gives me a bill of sale.” He laughed. “You can give them a bit of lovin’, and we’ll fatten them up. Next spring half a dozen of those steers will be worth at least sixty dollars a head not to mention the cows and calves.”

  It had just about taken all the money he had, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have plenty of pasture for them now as he had sold most of his stock to pay off Josephine’s debts.

  A couple of years and a bit of luck was all he needed to get back on his feet again. Well, it would take years to ever fully recover. His luck seemed to have taken a turn for the better since Angel had come into his life.

  He wanted her as his wife in every sense of the word now. What a fool he had been to put such a stipulation on their union. Being a healthy fit man with the usual male urges, hard work and long hours combined with solitude had kept his need under control. With Angel living in his house, breast feeding in front of him, even though she tried to be discrete, the burning need was becoming unbearable.

  How many times over the last couple of weeks had he been tempted to climb down from the loft and join her in bed. He had fantasized about tasting those sweet pink lips.

  “What the….” Hughie’s exclamation cut into his lustful thoughts. He glanced up and spotted Bert riding toward them.

  “I thought you might need a hand,” he called out.

  “We could do with it,” Clint said. “A few of the cows are in real poor condition and have dropped back.”

  He didn’t like Angel being left on her own, but it would only be for an hour or two. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t lived on a ranch before.

  They were going to have a treat tonight. Roast turkey even if it wasn’t Thanksgiving. His mouth watered. Angel sure was a good cook.

  Once they got the cattle on to Argyle, Hughie said. “Why don’t you go home now and spend time with that pretty little wife of yours. It’s not healthy for a man to spend so much time away from her.”

  Not healthy being with her, either, he thought, wondering how long it would be before his control snapped.

  “Go on,” Hughie urged. “She must get lonely being stuck in the cabin on her own all the time.”

  “She’s got the baby.”

  “He can’t even talk.”

  Clint laughed. “He’s sure got a bellow, though.”

  Hughie swatted at an insect buzzing near his face. “You’re a lucky man, Clint. Make sure you do the right thing by them.”

  “I will.”

  Hughie was like a fussy old woman sometimes, yet he approved of Angel. Who wouldn’t? “Okay, thanks. Remember roast turkey for supper.”

  The old man licked his lips. “How could I forget.”

  Clint turned his horse’s head for home. He could almost taste the succulent turkey right now.

  As the cabin came into view a sudden chill passed down his spine. There wasn’t much smoke coming fro
m the chimney. Angel would not have let the fire burn down when she had a turkey to roast.

  He galloped toward the cabin and dived from his horse in the front yard. The door stood wide open. As he stepped inside, he felt as if he’d been gut shot. Blood covered the floor; the mats were in disarray.

  “Angel,” he didn’t yell too loudly not wanting to wake the baby. No answer. Panic surged through him. Dashing into the bedroom he was shocked to find it empty.

  He charged out into the kitchen where the back door stood open. What the hell had happened here? He raced around now calling out her name, not caring if he woke the baby or not.

  The bunkhouse, the stable and barn yielded nothing. The horse Angel occasionally rode grazed in the paddock. Something terrible had happened. Kidnapped? Murdered? He couldn’t decide which was the worst scenario. What if she was lost to him forever? He would never get the chance to say….to say he loved her. All the lost chances and what about Robbie, his dead brother’s child?

  “She can’t be dead. I’d feel it if she was.” Someone must have taken her it was the only explanation, and by the looks of the sitting room she had put up one almighty struggle.

  “Angel, Angelique,” he called out, only to be greeted by the usual ranch noises, hens cackling, the lowing of cattle, leaves stirring in the breeze.

  “Angel, Angel,” he called out becoming more frantic with every step he took. Then he heard it. The baby crying. Where in tarnation was it coming from? It was near the hen house. No, it was in the hen house. He dashed over there and the crying became louder. What was the baby doing there? Where was Angel?

  The chickens scattered as he opened the gate of their enclosure, flapping their wings and cackling. Inside the nesting house he spied Angel slumped in the corner, her face swollen the baby on her lap.

  His stomach dropped to his boots. Was she dead? He grabbed the baby out of her lifeless arms. Her bodice was open, her breast exposed, but thankfully he could see her breathing.

  Holding the baby against his shoulder with one hand on his back, he squatted next to her. “Angel.” He gently shook her. “Wake up, darlin’.” He couldn’t decide whether she was frozen with fear or she had fainted.

  What had happened here? She had been in a fight and was hiding from someone, even an imbecile would know that. He shook her again. If he couldn’t get her to her feet, he’d have to take the baby back to the house then return for her.

  Where were Hughie and Bert? In all his life he had never needed them as much as he did now. He hated doing it, but he had to leave her.

  The baby had stopped crying and was trying to suck on his shirt as he strode toward the house. There was straw and chicken poop on the blanket, so he dropped it on the porch, removed the muck off his boots on the scraper and entered the house.

  “I don’t like doing this,” he said. “I’ve got no choice. I need to go back for your mother.”

  He placed the baby in his basket and left the house with hungry screams filling his ears. Racing back to the hen house he charged into the enclosure. Angel didn’t look to have moved at all.

  “I’m back.” He picked her up and she felt limp in his arms. He kicked the gate shut so the chickens wouldn’t escape then hurried toward the house.

  She was groaning now thank goodness. He glanced into her face and was shocked. One of her eyes was swollen as was her nose, and it had been bleeding. Scratches flawed her cheeks. Who had done this to her? Had they violated her? The thought almost had his legs collapsing under him as he fought to stay on his feet. Nausea swirled around in his stomach.

  “What happened to you?” He couldn’t take her into the house like this. Her dress was dirty, covered in straw and chicken poop. He had no choice except take it off. The buttons on the bodice were already undone, it was only a matter of slipping the dress off her shoulders. Once the dress lay on the porch, he realized her undergarments were intact. He unlaced her boots and took them off.

  He carried her into the bedroom and placed her on top of the bed. The baby was screaming now.

  “Kill us. She wanted to kill us.”

  The words shocked him. Who would want to kill them?

  “She.”

  Then he knew – Celia had been here. He picked the baby up; he was screaming so hard he feared the child would do himself an injury. Dare he do it? He had no choice. He brought the baby over to her, pulled aside her undergarments and exposed her breast and placed the baby’s mouth on her nipple. His hands were shaking. Her skin was flawless, milky white.

  What kind of depraved man was he for thinking like this? After a time, he eased the baby’s mouth away and he bellowed in anger at being denied his food source. “You’re a little glutton,” he said, holding the baby against his shoulder and patting his back. The little feet were kicking at his chest, little fists flailing his neck. “You can have some more in a minute.” The baby let out a loud burp and Clint felt dampness on his shirt.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” He put the baby on the other breast, and he drank more slowly. “Angel, can you hear me? Did Celia attack you?”

  “Yes, she wanted to kill me, take Robbie.”

  “It’s okay now, you’re both safe, I won’t let her come near you ever again.”

  “Did I kill her?”

  “No. She’s gone, and I’ll make sure the vicious witch never comes back here.”

  “Who?” She glanced at her clothes. “Undressed me?”

  “I did. Your dress was filthy. I left it outside on the porch. As soon as the baby is fed, I’ll clean you up.” He stroked the tangled hair away from her face. “What made you hide in the hen house?”

  “I couldn’t think of anywhere else. I thought because it was dirty and smelly, she wouldn’t come in. I don’t know whether I fainted or fell asleep. The last thing I remember was feeding the baby. It was horrible.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “Is my nose broken?”

  “I don’t know, it’s swollen, and I think you’ll have a black eye by morning.”

  “She’s worse than me. I banged her head on the floor over and over until she stopped hitting and punching me. I thought she was dead. I hoped she was dead, but she wasn’t. She came searching for us.”

  “It’s okay,” he soothed, dampening down on his rage. If he got hold of Celia right now, he would be hard pressed not to knock her down. “When Robbie finishes feeding, I’ll heat up some water so you can have a wash, then I want you to rest, you’ve taken a vicious beating.”

  “I didn’t cook the turkey.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll have it tomorrow.”

  She blinked several times. Robbie who had lost interest in feeding now moved his head away exposing her bare breast. “Here, give him to me, I’ll put him in his bed. He was as wet as dung. Angel wasn’t up to changing him. It was up to him to do it.

  Chapter Ten

  “Boss,” Hughie yelled out from the kitchen, “where is everyone?”

  Clint dashed out clutching the baby.

  “What happened?”

  Briefly he explained what had transpired.

  “That woman is crazier than a run over coon. She ought to be locked up in the insane asylum.”

  Bert walked in just then. “What happened to the turkey?”

  “We’ll have to have it tomorrow,” Hughie said. “Celia attacked Angel, tried to kill her and the baby.”

  “Is that true, boss?”

  “Yes, it is. Can you put on some water to boil? Angel’s scratches need to be cleaned.”

  “I’ll do it,” Hughie said. “I’ll put the coffee pot on, too.”

  “I have to change the baby before I put him in his bed. He’s saturated.”

  “Do you know how to do it?” Bert asked.

  “No, but I’ll work it out somehow. You hold him while I get the stuff ready.”

  “You want to hope he hasn’t messed himself, then you’d be in real trouble.” Hughie grinned. “I’ll ride into Laramie tomor
row and see the sheriff for you. He’ll have to lock that woman up before she kills someone.”

  “If I catch her anywhere near this place, I’ll put a bullet in her,” Clint growled.

  He hurried back to the bedroom and picked up a diaper and a nightgown from the neat pile resting on the chest of drawers.

  “Where’s Robbie?” Angel asked huskily.

  “Bert is holding him. Hughie has put on some hot water for you. We’ll need to bathe those cuts on your face.”

  “I really thought she was going to kill us.”

  “Hughie is going to ride into Laramie tomorrow and see the sheriff, so don’t worry. I’ll be back soon, darlin’.” He kissed her on the forehead.

  He was reluctant to leave her, but the baby needed to be changed. Out in the kitchen Hughie had the coffee pot and water on heating. He was holding the baby.

  “Where’s Bert?”

  “He’s gone to the bunkhouse for some of those herbs and potions he uses. Says he’s got something that will help settle Angel’s nerves.”

  “Probably ground up dog’s testicles or something.”

  “You can scoff, boss, but I tell you his stuff works. Strong Indian medicine he reckons.”

  “Lay the baby on the table and I’ll put the nightgown on him.”

  “Change him first,” Hughie suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Because his nightgown will get wet.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” When he removed the wet diaper, he checked to make sure Robbie had everything a baby boy should have before putting the dry diaper on him. Luckily it was folded ready and he’d made a mental note of how Angel put it on.

  The baby was kicking his legs energetically once they were free of their restraint. Between the two of them they got the diaper on and changed his nightgown.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” Clint said. “I think we did okay.”

  Bert returned with a leather pouch. “Make her some tea and put a pinch of this in it. It will lessen her shock and let her sleep.”

  “What’s in it?” Clint asked dubiously.

  “It’s strong medicine. And you don’t want to know what’s in it.” Bert grinned. “It will work, take my word for it.”