Angeline (Bride Brigade Book 2)

by Caroline Clemmons

  Grady picked up Matthew, who had become fussy, rare behavior for the boy.

  She grasped a quart jar gratefully and clutched it to her. “What a blessing Martha Granger is for giving you two of these! We can stay dry and feed Matthew chicken soup for his supper.”

  Soothing his son, Grady paced the kitchen. “I remember she brought those when I had a cold this winter. Mrs. Murphy brought a large pan of warm soup so I shoved the jars back in the pantry to save for another day and promptly forgot about them.”

  She opened the jar and poured the contents into a sauce pan. “We can benefit from a bowl, since we were drenched.”

  “Don’t know where he caught his cold. He’s always been healthy.”

  After supper, they put their son to bed but Matthew didn’t want to sleep. He cried, which only made him more stopped up and uncomfortable.

  “You stay with him, Grady while I tidy up the kitchen.” She fetched the pitcher of water and glass from the kitchen. “I think he should drink as much water as possible, even if it means changing him and his sheets during the night.”

  “I’ll put his old soakers on him just in case, not that they’ll keep him dry. Might save the bed is all they’re good for.”

  She hurried into the kitchen and tidied as quickly as she could. She’d cared for her neighbor’s children, but not when they were ill. Having her boy sick worried her. What could she do to make him well? To make him more comfortable?

  Grady held Matthew on his shoulder and rubbed his back. The little boy dropped off to sleep but waked when Grady tried to put him in his bed. “Go to bed, my dear. I’ll watch him. If he gets more congested, I’ll take him to the kitchen and make a steam tent with the kettle.”

  She stood wringing her hands. “I need to learn these things so I can care for him. I sort of remember having croup and Mama putting a sheet over my head and making me breathe the kettle’s steam. I didn’t like it because it was hot.”

  “I’ll wager Matthew won’t like it, either, but it helps.”

  Relieved to have something constructive to do for the little boy, she said, “I’ll put the kettle on to boil and get a sheet. We can try now and maybe he’ll sleep better.”

  When they had finished and the cranky boy was asleep in his crib, Angeline folded the sheet and laid it on a chair in case they needed it again.

  “Go on to bed, my dear. I’ll call you if he wakes and I need help with him.”

  She shook her head and hugged her arms. “I can’t sleep while you’re keeping watch.”

  After placing an arm around her shoulders, he said, “Remember you’re sleeping for two. You have to keep our baby healthy.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Grady, you are the kindest, best husband in the entire world.”

  He offered a sad smile and shook his finger at her. “No, no, no crying. One fretful member of the McIntyre household is all I can handle. Off to bed with you now.”

  Angeline was certain she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes as she readied for bed. When she crawled between the sheets, she was exhausted. She kept her ear tuned to the sounds in the next room but soon fell asleep.

  The next morning, Grady carried Matthew into the kitchen for breakfast. “He seems a little better this morning.” Or, was that wishful thinking on his part?

  Angeline was at the range when they entered. She came to kiss Matthew but offered Grady only a grin. As much as he enjoyed her winsome smile, he wondered if the time would come when she would greet him with a kiss. He longed for them to be married in every way and to share closeness that intimacy created.

  She smoothed a hand over Matthew’s hair. “I have oatmeal ready.”

  While she bustled about ladling the warm cereal into bowls, Grady secured his son in the high chair and scooted him up to the table.

  After the blessing, he picked up his spoon and added sugar to his bowl then milk. “I have an appointment with Harlie Jackson this morning. Hate to leave you on your own with a sick boy, but I need to show up for this meeting.”

  “Mothers take care of sick children on their own all the time.” She met his gaze, a worried frown on her pretty face. “What does Mr. Jackson want?”

  He took a sip of coffee before he answered, “No idea, but I’m sure it’s not to tell me I’m doing a great job. He’ll have a burr under his saddle about something.”

  With a savage jab of her spoon, she attacked her oatmeal as if she were battling Jackson. “I wish he’d change his attitude. You do a wonderful job preaching and caring for the community whether they attend church or not.”

  Most of his congregation members were congenial and approving of his ministry. “That’s one of his complaints.” He exhaled in frustration. “I’ll not back down on the way I’m ministering.”

  Later, as he walked toward the Jackson home, he worried about Harlie Jackson and his yes-man, Ulys McGinnis. They had been more critical of late. In spite of his conviction that he was faithful to a Biblical ministry, he dreaded the meeting today.

  When Lizzie Jackson showed him into the parlor, he saw that Ulys McGinnis was also present. He took the seat Harlie indicated.

  But he wished he were anywhere but here. “Harlie, Ulys, how are you today?”

  Appearing even more stern than usual, Harlie fixed him with a glare. “Let’s get right to the point of why we asked you here. We’re concerned about your wife.”

  He’d been expecting something like this, but he had no intention of letting anyone slander her. “Angeline? She’s a lovely woman and a good wife and mother to Matthew. She also kindly visits members of the congregation and reads to some of the older ladies.”

  Harlie stabbed a finger at him. “She looks as if she’s expecting a baby and is far enough along she must have conceived before she set foot in Tarnation.”

  “And why does that concern you? As her husband, surely I’m the only one who has a right to have an opinion on that subject.”

  Ulys leaned forward. “She was introduced to us as single, not as a widow. We don’t think a fallen woman is fit to be in church.”

  Grady hated this but he’d try to nip it in the bud before dissension spread. “You believe each of our members has to be perfect?”

  Harlie appeared taken aback, but by no means stumped. “Of course not, but you can’t expect respectable people to allow a tarnished woman in their midst. Bad enough you hold a service for the saloon girls, but now you’ve married one.”

  Grady’s blood boiled. “You will not speak about my wife in that way. For your information, she is an exceptionally good and compassionate woman. One mistake which was not of her choice should not condemn a person for life.”

  Ulys shook his head. “You’re either respectable or you’re not. If you fall short, then you don’t belong in our church.”

  Grady wished he weren’t against brawling. He’d love to smack these men’s heads together. “That attitude is what keeps many saloon girls from being able to reform and leave that life. You two are so busy judging people you forget what church is about. Have you read the Bible? Have you listened to any of my sermons?”

  Harlie leapt to his feet. “I’ve heard that pap you feed us from the pulpit. I’ve read the Bible too. Women like your wife would have been stoned.” He appeared surprised he was standing and reclaimed his chair.

  As calmly as he could manage, Grady said, “No, they wouldn’t. Don’t you remember our Lord asking who is blameless to cast the first stone? Are you perfect, Harlie?” He turned to the other man. “And you Ulys, have you never made a mistake?”

  Grady stood. “I’ve other calls to make, gentlemen. There is nothing to be gained by continuing at cross purposes. This discussion is ended.”

  Harlie narrowed his eyes. “You may think it is, preacher, but you haven’t heard the last of this by any means.”

  Picking up his hat, Grady said, “Good day.”

  He was so angry his insides shook. He hoped he appeared calmer than that, but he couldn’t have conta
ined his anger any longer if he’d continued listening to those two bigots. Respectable indeed. No one in town liked them because of their tendency to look down on others.

  On his way back to the parsonage, he stopped in at the mercantile. Fortunately, he’d come at a time when there were no other customers.

  Michael stood at the counter talking with Josephine. “Hey, Grady. You look a mite upset.”

  He exhaled slowly, searching for calm. “Just came from the Jackson home where I met with Harlie and Ulys.”

  Michael and Josephine exchanged knowing looks. “No wonder you’re riled. Why don’t you come in the back and have a seat for a bit? Haven’t had a chance to talk to you in a while.”

  Nodding at Josephine, Grady followed the other man to the little table and two chairs in the storeroom. He took a seat, still quaking inside.

  Michael tilted back in his chair. “Had a go at you about your wife, did they?”

  Surprised, he glanced up. “How did you know?”

  “You usually let their complaints roll off you but you appear so angry you may explode.”

  He gave a derisive laugh. “I almost did at that. I had to leave the Jackson home or hit either Harlie or Ulys or both.” He ran a hand across his face. “You know I’m against brawling on principle, but I can understand how a man can lose control and light into someone.”

  “Don’t let them get to you. Two malcontents out of the whole county is a pretty good ratio of approval. Don’t know anyone else with that rating. You know, hard as we try to run a good store, we get complaints too.”

  He shook his head, worry settling on his shoulders like a mantle. “They make enough noise and other people will listen. Followers are easily persuaded to change their minds.”

  Michael leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. “I guess they took you to task because Angeline’s expecting. Who better than a minister to have married her? Besides, you’re good together. She was doing your work in the community on her own before she married you.”

  “You’re right on both counts. They want to condemn her because she was expecting when she came here. And she is a kind woman who genuinely cares about people.”

  “Don’t have to tell me. People come in here and sing her praises. One of them is Riley because your wife convinced several of his patients to take medicine he prescribed and are now feeling better. She accomplished in a few visits what he hadn’t been able to in months.”

  Grady smiled for the first time since he’d left home after breakfast. “She reads to people who no longer see well and does their mending. She brings cheer wherever she goes. One mistake trusting a callous man who attacked and deserted her doesn’t define who she is.”

  Michael slapped a hand on the table. “She’s a fine woman that Josephine and I are proud to call our friend. You can tell she loves Matthew, too. You chose well, my friend.”

  Feeling better, he rubbed a hand across his face, wishing he could scrub away Harlie and Ulys as easily. “Thanks for letting me blow off steam. I owe you.”

  The store owner shrugged away his comment. “What are friends for?”

  He scraped back his chair and stood. “Well, how about selling me a length of green ribbon and three peppermint sticks?”

  Chapter Eleven

  When Grady left the store, he was in a much better frame of mind. After seven years as a minister, he knew better than to let a couple of naysayers get under his skin. Nothing he could do or say would please everyone in the congregation, and those who were unhappy were usually eager to let him know. When it came to Angeline, though, apparently he had a lower tolerance level.

  That thought created questions in his head. He cared for her, but perhaps he was growing more than just fond of her. Remembering his first wife, Georgia, he wondered if he was being unfaithful.

  Funny how that thought sprang into his mind. Georgia was gone and Angeline was here. How could caring for Angeline be wronging Georgia? If he were counseling someone with this dilemma, he would tell the person how destructive that line of thought could be to the new relationship.

  Georgia still resided in his heart, but there was plenty of room for Angeline, Matthew, and any children that came along, including the baby Angeline now carried. For his sake, he hoped the baby looked like her. He’d love the child regardless of appearances, but he would enjoy having a miniature copy of his wife.

  He stopped by Riley’s office but the doctor was out. A large blackboard hung on the wall. The doctor had written “Seeing Mrs. Oliver north of town.”

  On the same blackboard left, Grady wrote a note. “Matthew McIntyre sick. Stop by when you can.”

  By the time he reached home, he’d recovered his composure and hoped to keep the upsetting visit with Harlie and Ulys from his thoughts.

  When he entered the kitchen, Angeline balanced a fussy Matthew on her hip. “There’s Daddy.”

  Her eyes held question he wanted to answer without alarming her. He took his son from her. “How’s our boy? I brought us a treat.”

  She accepted the small package he handed her. “What’s this? Surely it’s not from the Jacksons?” She untied the string and pulled away the brown paper.

  “I splurged and bought us all a sweet and you a tiny gift.”

  A sweet smile appeared on her face. “A ribbon to wear with my green skirt and top. How thoughtful of you, Grady.” She held a peppermint stick out to their son. “And I’ll bet Matthew remembers what this is.”

  “Candy.” Matthew reached for the sweet.

  Grady had no desire to wear sticky sugar on his clothes and set his son in the high chair. “He’s still as congested.”

  “I made a steam tent again, but I should have waited for you. He hates it and holding him and the sheet without your help is almost too much for me.”

  “I’m not going out again today. After we have dinner, I’ll stay here and work on my sermon for tomorrow so I’ll be handy whenever you need me.”

  “I thought he was better after the steam but the effect didn’t last long. I’ll bet the sweet will make his throat feel better.”

  “But he always gets worse about sundown. This is an unusual time of year for croup. I left a note for Riley to come by when he can, but he’s north of town seeing a patient.”

  Angeline sat at the table and gave their son a drink of water. “What if Matthew isn’t better by tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think he should go out, my dear. Do you mind staying here with him instead of going to church?”

  She stared at him with hurt showing in her wide eyes. “How can you ask? Of course I’ll stay home with him. I was worried about not showing up to church after you being called on the carpet by Mr. Jackson.”

  He pulled her into his embrace and tucked her head under his chin. “I meant no slight. You shouldn’t worry about Jackson or McGinnis. They’re never going to be happy so best not waste effort giving them a thought.”

  She leaned against him. “I can’t help disliking them, Grady. I’m not proud of that, but I’ve tried and simply can’t.”

  He savored having her in his arms. “You’d be a saint if you could. As Christians we’re to love everyone, but that doesn’t mean we have to enjoy them. I’ll wager not many people in Tarnation like either of those couples.”

  She pulled away and busied herself making a pie for dinner.

  ***

  Almost in tears from worry, Angeline walked the floor with Matthew until Grady returned from the church service. She’d almost hurried to the church with the boy to seek help from more experienced mothers or the doctor. He fussed if she put him down, so she’d held him all morning, bathing his face with a cold cloth and feeding him cool water.

  Grady came through the door and took off his jacket before he took his son from her. “People asked about you and sent prayers and good wishes for both you and Matthew. Most expressed hope neither of us caught our boy’s cold. Riley wasn’t there this morning but I hope he’ll return to town soon.”

 
; She set about preparing dinner. “Matthew’s much worse. I’m sure of it.”

  “If Riley doesn’t return by evening, I’ll ask one of the older women in town for advice. I’m sure Riley will drop in as soon as he can.” He tried to sound calm, but she knew he was as worried as she was.

  By the time Riley arrived about four, Matthew gasped for breath.

  Riley pumped water in the sink and washed his hands with lye soap. “Sorry I had to stay all night at the Olivers. Thought for a while I’d have to bring her to town with me.”

  Angeline didn’t know the family but asked, “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Eventually, but she’s mighty sick. Talked her husband out of sending for me until she was too bad to protest. Now, let’s check this big boy.”

  Usually a happy child, Matthew tried to turn away from the doctor. Riley didn’t appear to let a fussy child interfere with his examination. After listening to the boy’s lungs, he frowned.

  “What have you done to ease his breathing?”

  Grady explained about the rainstorm and everything they’d done to try to help Matthew.

  “You’ve done the right things, but he has pneumonia. He must already have been getting sick when the rain caught you.”

  His diagnosis set fear gnawing at her insides. Pneumonia was deadly. She held Matthew’s little hand in hers. “He’s so small. Tell us what to do.”

  Grady put his hand at her back as if to reassure her. Or was he as frightened as she was?

  Riley appeared exhausted but he smiled. “I’ll stay a while and help.”

  Grady asked, “When did you sleep last?”

  The doctor shrugged as if his sleep were unimportant. “A few hours last night and in the buggy coming home. Horse knows the way to town.”

  He dug into his medical bag and brought out a small green bottle. “This is menthol. Put a spoonful in the kettle when you make the steam tent and this will open him up more. Don’t worry, Angeline, breathing the mix won’t hurt you or your baby.”

  Riley produced a brown bottle. “This is a blend I concoct myself for asthma and chest complaints. Give him half a spoonful every hour until his breathing eases then change to every four hours. He won’t like the taste, but he needs to swallow every drop.”