Tom's Angel

by Linda George

  They thanked Natalie again and left the saloon. Life in the Acre seemed to have returned to normal.

  Back at the Yellow Rose, they found William Kincannon in the front room, counting a sizable stack of bills.

  “Paw, where did you get all that money?” Rosalie had never seen that much money all at once in her life.

  “Won it in a race. Rusty left them other nags in the dust.”

  “How much, Paw?”

  Tom saw hope in her eyes. Even if Kincannon hadn't won two thousand today, he probably had a good little bit stashed away somewhere.

  “Never you mind.” He stuffed the bills in his pocket. One of them fluttered to the floor.

  Tom picked it up before Kincannon could snatch it back. A hundred dollar bill. If he had many more bills like this one, Kincannon may have won two thousand dollars after all.

  Grabbing the bill, Kincannon mashed it into his pocket with the rest of the money and turned to the bartender.

  “Whiskey. The best.” Glancing back at Tom, he added, “For him, too.”

  “No thanks.” Tom approached the bar slowly. Rosalie flanked her father on the other side. “How much?”

  Kincannon glanced from Tom to Rosalie and back. “What's it to ya?”

  “Strickland has decided he's going to marry Rosalie, since he already owns her.”

  The smile spreading over Kincannon's face made Tom want to punch him again.

  “Well, now, ain't that good news?”

  Tom grabbed the front of his filthy leather vest and pulled him around. “Listen carefully. You're going to offer Zane Strickland two thousand dollars to release Rosalie. You got her into this sorry mess, and you're going to get her out.”

  “Two thousand! Are you outa your mind?”

  “No, but you're going to be.” Tom pulled his gun from the holster and placed the barrel against Kincannon's temple. “If you don't do what I just said.”

  “All right! All right! But I ain't got two thousand!”

  Sadie came running in from the back room, grinning like a possum. “Rosie, you gotta come quick! Lizzy's better. A lot better!” Her eyes darted from person to person around the room, then back to Rosalie. “She's asking for you. It's a miracle!”

  Rosalie hurried to Lizzy's bedside. Tom followed as far as the door to Lizzy's room, expecting Kincannon to follow, but he never moved from the bar.

  Smiling and calm, Lizzy accepted spoon after spoon of clear broth from Jocelyn. “See, Rosie? Everything is gonna be fine now. I'll be out of this bed before you know it. Just wait and see.”

  Rosalie hugged her sister carefully, admitting she appeared much better.

  Tom studied Lizzy carefully. She looked away, then her smile came back.

  Tom felt a chill shimmy down his spine. Something about this wasn't right. Not right at all.

  Chapter 9

  A wire arrived Thursday morning from Amos McCabe.

  HAVE WIRED PHILLIP MALLORY YOU ARE STAYING EL PASO HOTEL STOP YOU WILL HEAR FROM HIM STOP RICHARD FURIOUS OVER ZANE IN JAIL AGAIN STOP WATCH YOUR BACK STOP AMOS MC CABE

  So. Zane had contacted his father a second time to bail him out of jail. But Tom knew that Zane wouldn't getting out in less than a week. “No one pulls a gun on me in my town,” the marshal had told Tom. At least something in this town could get a man jailed for a week.

  Just after Tom got the wire from Amos, a cowboy came to the hotel, asking for him, an envelope in his hand.

  “Tom McCabe? My boss, Mr. Mallory, said to give this to you. I'm supposed to wait for an answer.”

  Tom took the envelope, broke the sealing wax, and pulled out a single sheet of paper, an invitation to spend the weekend at the Mallory home, just outside of Fort Worth.

  “Tell Mr. Mallory I would be pleased to visit him this weekend.” The cowboy nodded and started to turn away. “Wait! Tell him I'll be bringing a guest with me, if that's all right. I assume Mr. Mallory has ample accommodations for extra guests?”

  The cowboy grinned. “Bring all the guests you want, Mr. McCabe.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tom went immediately to tell Rosalie.

  “Phillip Mallory! The whole weekend?”

  “Yep. Do you know him?”

  “Everyone knows he's one of the wealthiest cattlemen in north Texas. But, Tom, I can't.”

  “Why not? Lizzy is much better, eating and trying to get up and walk. A weekend in the country would do us both good. Strickland's in jail and won't be getting out anytime soon, I promise.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Marshal told me. He didn't take kindly to dodging Zane's bullets, or to his sore jaw.”

  Rosalie let herself think about it, really consider it, but only for a moment. “I still can't go.”

  Tom sensed a change in her statement from before. This had nothing to do with Lizzy or Zane. “What is it, darlin'?”

  She smiled. “I don't have proper clothes for a weekend in the country.”

  Tom tipped her chin and kissed her. “Let's go shopping.”

  “What? But Tom, you mustn’t.”

  “Now, don't be telling me what I must and must not do. Men don't take kindly to being told such things, especially by a woman in need of a new dress. Or two. Or maybe three.”

  “Three new dresses? Tom, I couldn't let you!”

  “There you go again. Now, hush it up. Are you ready to go, or should I give you time to gussy up a little?”

  “An hour. Come back in an hour!” She kissed him quickly, then headed for her bedroom, giggling like a schoolgirl.

  <><><><>

  An hour later, wearing the lilac dress she'd borrowed for dinner at Merchant's, Rosalie got into the buggy. So excited she could hardly sit still, she hooked her arm through his, grinning ear to ear.

  “I reckon you'll need one dress for Friday, a second for Saturday, and a dancing dress for Saturday night.”

  “A dance Saturday night? How do you know?”

  “Isn't that always how they schedule these weekend parties? It's what Marietta does. She’s his wife and the lady of the household.”

  “You mean there will be other people there?”

  “Of course. I wouldn't be surprised if Gabriel and Trina showed up, too. Paw wouldn't have wired Phillip and not mentioned all of his children in this neck of the woods.”

  “I can't wait to see them again. Will they bring Hannah?”

  “Do you really think Trina could bear to leave her with someone else?”

  “No, of course not.” She fell quiet.

  “What's the matter? You quit talking, and you’ve been talking non-stop since we left your house.”

  “I’m just wondering if I’ll know how to do, and what to say. It’s obvious you’ve been to these parties before. I...never have.”

  Tom squeezed her fingers. “You’ll do fine. Just relax and be yourself. Everyone will love you.”

  The words echoed through Tom’s mind. He had no doubt every guest at the Mallory house would love Rosalie. He almost added, “as I do,” but the thought confused him. Was what he felt for Rosalie love? Or concern? Maybe this little party in the country would answer that question for him.

  <><><><>

  Three hours later, arms full of packages, they took everything upstairs to Tom's room at the El Paso. Then, they went across to Merchant's Restaurant. Rosalie hadn't stopped talking since they left Mac Elser's store on Houston Street, where Tom had purchased a baby carriage he intended to give to Gabriel and Trina for little Hannah.

  Tom had spent so much money buying the pram and all those clothes for Rosalie, he didn't dare add it all up. He barely had enough to pay his bill at the El Paso and buy train passage home, if he didn't stay more than one more week in Fort Worth. When all he had left was their train passage, they'd have to head north, ready or not.

  Seeing Rosalie dressed in fine clothes, her smile the only jewelry she really needed, had been worth thousands of dollars to Tom. The one necklace he'd bought for her at H
. Tully's went with the emerald taffeta dress she'd chosen for the dance Saturday night. In that dress, with the shiny green stones of the necklace lying on her bare throat, she'd glow like a precious gemstone for sure. He couldn't wait to show her off to Phillip and Marietta Mallory.

  Rosalie dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I'd like to leave all my new clothes at the El Paso, with you, if that's all right.”

  “Of course. You don't want to take them home with you?”

  “I don't intend to open the packages until we get to the Mallory's. They fixed them with paper, to keep away the wrinkles. If I took it all apart, I might not get everything back the way it was. I can't have you embarrassed over my appearance.”

  Tom got up from the table, pulled out her chair, and took her hand as they walked toward the door. “You couldn't embarrass me even if you wore a flower sack. You'd still be the prettiest girl there.”

  She didn't reply, but her cheeks turned bright pink. “When will we leave?”

  “In the morning. I'll bring all the dresses, pick you up about nine, and we should be there before noon. It's customary to rest on Friday afternoon and get settled in your room, if my memory of other parties at the Mallorys serves. There'll be a wardrobe for your dresses, so wrinkles can hang out.”

  “Will there be anyone in my room other than me?”

  “Only you.”

  “And you'll have your own room, too?”

  “Yep.”

  “How grand is this house?”

  “To a twelve-year-old boy, it seemed like a mansion. I don't remember very much, though. I suspect you've heard more about it than I have.”

  “Well, they say the house has more than twenty rooms in four stories. Outside it’s reddish brown, trimmed in dark brown, with a huge ballroom on the ground floor at the back of the house, with a wall of windows overlooking a veranda.”

  Tom shook his head. “And you were asking me about the house. Where did you hear all this?”

  Rosalie averted her eyes, embarrassed suddenly. “Some of the cowboys from the Mallory Ranch have come into the dance hall from time to time. I've heard them bragging about the fancy place where they work. I suppose I shouldn't believe anything they say, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “The house might not be as grand as they'd have everyone believe.”

  “Knowing Phillip Mallory, as my father has for forty years, I'm sure it's even grander than his hired hands suspect. I doubt there are more than a couple who’ve ever been inside the house.”

  Rosalie spent the rest of the day washing and ironing the lilac dress so she could wear it on the way to the ranch in the morning. Warming the iron in the stove was pure misery, coupled with the incessant heat. Only a hundred today, so maybe cooler days were coming. Or, possibly some rain. Weeks had passed since they'd had any to speak of.

  Barely finished with the dress, she was called to tend to a girl at Frank's Saloon. Nothing really bad, though. Bruises and a busted lip that had swelled to the size of an egg. Before she could get home, a girl at the Red Light had to have stitches. She'd fallen against the bar and split her arm from elbow to wrist. Life as usual.

  When Rosalie got home, the dress had already limped in the heat, but there was nothing to be done about it. Tom had said she'd look all right in a flour sack. She giggled, wondering what he'd say, if she was wearing a flour sack dress when he came for her in the morning. Probably something proper, like, “You look real nice this morning, Rosalie.”

  How could there be such a polite, caring man in all the world? When time came for him to leave her at the Strickland's home in Denver, how would she ever bear to let him go?

  <><><><>

  The next morning felt cooler, even though the thermometer argued with that assessment. Already past eighty. The difference had to be the clouds, stacked one on the other, delaying the sun blistering everything for at least a couple of hours.

  Tom arrived with the buggy, more handsome than ever in a clean white shirt and a string tie. His hat appeared blacker than she remembered it. He must have cleaned it. Getting spiffed up for their weekend in the country apparently applied to men as well as women.

  “Good morning, Tom.”

  “You look beautiful this morning, Rosalie.” He stepped down, loaded her bag in the back with the pram and dresses they'd bought yesterday, and helped her up on the seat. “I'd swear it feels like rain.”

  “Afraid not. Those clouds will burn off before ten o'clock, but maybe it won't be quite as hot today.”

  They enjoyed polite conversation all the way to the Mallory Ranch. Tom had gotten directions at the hotel from Josh and they were right on the mark. When the house came into view, Rosalie drew in a long breath.

  “It's a mansion.”

  “Close to it, anyway. The bottom floor, from what Josh told me, is thick adobe, with thinner adobe on the floors above.”

  “Adobe?”

  “It'll be cool inside. I'm going to put the pram on the front porch, to surprise Trina when she arrives.”

  When Marietta Mallory met them at the front door and invited them in, Rosalie could have sworn someone had left the ice house door open. She breathed a sigh of relief, surrounded by cool air, fragrant with summer sage and rosemary. Marietta, with her gray hair tucked neatly into a bun on top of her head, wore a pink dress trimmed in lace at the collar and cuffs. She reminded Tom of his mother, or what little he could remember of her, anyway.

  “Tom! When Amos told us you were in Fort Worth, I tried to remember the last time I saw you.” She glanced at Rosalie with a smile and a wink. “Not much older than twelve, and just beginning to be handsome.”

  Tom's cheeks pinked a bit at the praise, but he smiled. “Mrs. Mallory, I'd like you to meet my friend, Rosalie Kincannon, from Fort Worth.”

  “I'm delighted to meet you, my dear, and so happy you could come.”

  “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Mallory. And so cool!”

  “Once we discovered the natural cooling effect, I told Phillip our house must be made of adobe bricks. He had a terrible time figuring out how to put all that heavy mud on the upper floors, but he did it. I don't know how I could live without it.”

  Rosalie and Tom sat on a settee courting couch in the front room, adjacent to the hearth. An arrangement of wild flowers, cactus and prairie grass decorated the firebox. Around the room, Rosalie counted five exquisite tables, including one with gilt, framing twelve porcelain medallions. It had to be the most stunning piece of furniture she'd ever seen. Two portraits hung over the huge mahogany mantle. She recognized the Mallorys, though in the portraits they were quite somber. In person, Marietta never stopped smiling.

  “Phillip is out with the cattle somewhere. He'll return shortly and I won't allow him to leave our guests again. Now, Tom, tell me how you came to meet Rosalie.”

  “She's going to live in Denver. I've come to escort her there.”

  Rosalie could tell relating these facts made him uncomfortable, but, thankfully, he offered no further explanation.

  “Denver is a magical place, Rosalie. I'm sure you'll love living there.” Marietta smiled back and forth between them, as though expecting an announcement.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mallory. I'm sure I shall. Tom has told me how much cooler it is there. But it can't be any cooler than this house!”

  Marietta laughed at that. “Oh, yes, it can. Just wait and see.”

  A huge man with graying handlebar moustaches came into the room from the back of the house.

  “Phillip, at last. Come and greet our guests.”

  “Tom McCabe. You've grown up to be a fine man.” He pumped Tom's hand vigorously several times.

  Tom made the introductions again, prompting a nod of Phillip's head to Rosalie and more expectant glances around the room.

  “Your sister is coming, Tom. Did you know?”

  “I suspected as much. I'll be glad to see her again. Did you know we were visiting when the baby was born?”

  They lau
nched into a lively discussion of having chicken and dumplings for dinner and Hannah arriving in time to take the place of dessert. Tom bragged about Rosalie's calm assurance while the men in the house ran around like headless chickens.

  “You're a midwife, then?” Marietta's expression displayed rapt curiosity.

  Before Rosalie had to answer, Tom offered, “A nurse, when the occasion calls for it.” Tom knew he had to head this conversation in a different direction, to prevent any further disclosures about Rosalie. “I could sure use something cold to drink.”

  “Lawsy, where are my manners? Of course, Tom. Let's go out to the kitchen, shall we?”

  “I have a little more work to tend to in the barn.”

  “Phillip, you promised.”

  “It won't take long, then Sam can handle it for the weekend.” He winked at Tom, then strode out the back door.

  Marietta chipped some ice into three glasses and splashed what turned out to be real lemonade up to the rims.

  Rosalie had never tasted anything as delicious in her life.

  “So much better than the crystals, don't you agree?” Marietta sipped, then set the glass on the table. “Tell me about Amos, Tom. Is he well?”

  “The same as always.”

  “There's only one Amos. I still miss Melanie.”

  Rosalie perked at that. “You knew Tom's mother?”

  “Yes. Such a pretty little thing. Amos adored her. Almost worshiped her. When she died, we expected him to follow within a week, his pain was so great. But he had four precious children to raise, one of them a baby daughter with the reddest hair anyone could ever remember seeing. I can't wait to see Katrina again, and the baby.”

  “They named her Hannah.”

  “A lovely name.” She cocked her head to listen. “Is that someone else arriving?” They headed toward the door.

  A house maid had answered the knock. Gabriel, Trina and little Hannah came inside. Trina handed the baby to Marietta and came straight to hug Rosalie.

  “And we thought it would be years before we'd see each other again! The pram is wonderful! You don't have to tell me who brought it or who it's for.”