The Bride of Willow Creek

by Maggie Osborne

  “It’s not your fault.” Sam’s voice was almost gone. His throat hurt like the devil despite the concoction the doctor had made him drink. The poultice beneath the cotton wound around his neck didn’t seem to help much either.

  “And the money in the jars.” Angie rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. “I’ll poke around in the ashes and see if I can find any unmelted coins.”

  “We’ll be out of here as soon as I wash up the dishes and Can brings the wagon around to take our boxes to the depot,” Molly said from behind him. He felt her fingers in his hair, then the slight tug of the scissors. “You can have the house as long as you need it. In fact, I’ll bet Can would sell it to you for a dollar and a promise to come visit us in Denver.”

  When Sam said nothing, Angie stepped in. “I’m not too proud to buy your house for a dollar. As soon as I find the coins that were in the jars.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said after a minute.

  Habit made him feel rushed, as if he needed to get going. But his claim now belonged to Marcus Applebee’s group, someone else was building the school, and he couldn’t solicit work until his hands healed.

  As if she’d read his mind, Angie’s gaze softened. “Get some rest, Sam. Things will look brighter after a few hours’ sleep.”

  He doubted it. Next week he’d give her the money for her divorce, and she would leave him.

  Chapter 20

  By noon on Tuesday, the Willow Creek and Victor churches had organized donation drives to help the victims of the Carr Street fire. Housing was found for the Kobler and Greene families, and a steady stream of people appeared at the doors of the victims, bringing food, clothing, toiletries, and items such as body soap, laundry soap, tooth powder, and all the sundries folks required for civilized living.

  Overwhelmed with gratitude but needing a brief escape from the constant stream of visitors, Angie left Abby and Tilly to answer the door and accept the welcome donations, and she took a cup of coffee outside to Sam.

  She spotted him standing beside the debris and paused a moment to enjoy the look of him. Molly had left his hair long enough to brush the top of his collar, but he looked different without the curl at his neck. Sam Holland could never appear ordinary or less than heart-wrenchingly handsome, but her roguish pirate was gone. From a distance, he reminded her of the boy she had fallen in love with so long ago.

  “Thank you,” he said gratefully, accepting the coffee and holding the cup with his fingertips. “Are the girls still sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  Angie walked to the edge of the foundation and peered down at the charred and ashy remains. Everything she owned had been lost. Her clothing, the silver-backed hairbrush she’d received for her twentieth birthday, her hats and embroidered handkerchiefs. Her mother’s cup and saucer. Peter’s letters.

  The fire chief had told them that tomorrow they could sift through the debris to see if any of their belongings had survived the fire. Looking at what little remained, she couldn’t imagine that anything had.

  “I’m keeping the girls dosed with laudanum. The doctor said sleep was the best thing. He stopped by this morning to help me change their dressings, and said he was pleased. He said we can lessen the laudanum dose tomorrow.” She glanced at the wrappings on Sam’s hands. “I need to change your dressings.”

  “Let’s do it later. I’m meeting with Marsh Collins in about an hour to sign the papers on the L&D. Marcus is rushing the paperwork because he knows we need the money.”

  She didn’t ask how Sam felt because she could guess. Despite Dr. Poppell’s treatment, the burn on her arm was painful every minute; there was no respite. Her hands didn’t hurt if she was careful, but she’d bumped them this morning and cried out in tearful pain. Most of Sam’s burns were worse than hers.

  She studied the bruised color under his eyes and the lines framing his mouth. “Sam, you need to get more than an hour’s sleep.”

  Angie had borrowed a cot and set it up in Molly’s small parlor area. They had put the girls in the single bedroom. Sam insisted he didn’t need a place to sleep as the burns on his back and chest made it painful to lie down. When Angie had risen during the night to check on him and the girls, she’d found Sam dozing at the kitchen table, bent forward with his head cradled on his arms.

  “If you’d take some laudanum, I think you could sleep on a cot.”

  “Maybe tonight,” he said.

  Definitely tonight, she thought, concerned about the exhaustion drawing his face. She would have said so, but a carriage rolling down Carr Street caught her attention. Her heart sank when she recognized Herb Govenor handing Winnie to the street.

  “Sam,” she said quickly, placing her bandaged hand on his arm, “please don’t make a scene. They must have come because they’re worried about Lucy and Daisy.” Sam’s face had darkened and his eyes turned as hard as blue marbles. “Whatever we think of these people, they are your daughters’ grandparents. And Sam? This wasn’t Herb Govenor’s doing.”

  Winnie nodded toward them before she headed to Molly’s door. Herb Govenor scowled, then skirted the crumbling foundation, looking out of place in his top hat and immaculate city clothing.

  “What do you want?” Sam growled.

  Govenor bowed to Angie, then glanced at Sam’s bandaged hands. “I know you think I’m responsible for the fire, Holland, but you’re wrong. I had nothing to do with this.” He waved a hand at the ashy destruction. “I would never put my granddaughters in danger. I’ll swear to that on a Bible.”

  “You let me think you were responsible for the fires at the Union Hall and the Whittier place.”

  One of Govenor’s eyebrows rose as if he’d expected at least an argument, then he leaned on his walking stick. “I had nothing to do with that. When I heard what was happening to you because of those fires, I wished I had arranged them,” he said flatly. “If you wanted to think I did . . .” He shrugged, then gave Sam a look of curiosity. “I was certain you’d blame me for this.” A head jerk indicated the rubble.

  “I did until I learned the arsonist was in jail. This fire started by accident.”

  “But you arranged the fire at Reverend Dryfus’s site,” Angie said, stepping closer to Sam. Herb Govenor had the same white-gold hair that Lucy and Daisy shared, but it was hard to warm to this man, even knowing it must have been difficult for him to come here today.

  “Who lit the match isn’t important, but his instructions were to harm no one and not to cause major damage.” Govenor met Sam’s unwavering stare. “I wanted you out of business.”

  “You got what you wanted. But you won’t win custody of my daughters. Today I’m signing the papers for the sale of the L&D Mine,” Sam said, speaking slowly. “After the signing, I’ll go straight to the Sylvan Saloon and use their telephone to ring Daisy’s doctor in Colorado Springs, and we’ll settle on a date for Daisy’s operation. Marsh Collins will inform the court of the date, which will be comfortably before the deadline. You’ve lost, Govenor.”

  “I already heard about Applebee’s offer.” Herb Govenor straightened his spine and pulled back his shoulders. “I also came to talk about the future.” He hesitated. “I’m not a man to beg, Holland, and I won’t. But Lucy and Daisy are our granddaughters, the only thing we have left of our daughter. I’m asking you to allow us to see them occasionally.”

  “Give me one reason why I should. One reason why I shouldn’t tell you to go to hell and walk away.”

  “We’re the last connection Lucy and Daisy have to their mother. We’re blood kin. Our granddaughters have a right to know us, and we have a right to know them.”

  Angie’s fingertips tightened on Sam’s sleeve and she frowned up at him. “He’s right,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m not betraying you,” she said, seeing an accusation in his gaze. “I think it would please Laura if her family came together again. You’ll raise your daughters, Sam. The major influence on their lives will be yours. But ar
en’t they entitled to know their mother’s side of their family, too?”

  “Laura’s parents turned their backs on her when she wanted to lead her own life!” His voice was low and harsh.

  “We’ve all made mistakes.” Her eyes locked to his. “What’s more important? That you satisfy your dislike of the Govenors, or that your daughters grow up knowing their only grandparents?”

  In the end it was his decision. She’d done what she could to influence him, anything more would be stepping over the line.

  After nodding to Mr. Govenor, Angie gingerly lifted her skirts with her fingertips and returned to Molly’s house. She came in the backdoor as Winnie was emerging from the bedroom, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “When I think how close they came to dying . . .” She shook her head and pressed a trembling handkerchief to her lips. Then she slid a look toward Abby and Tilly. “Is there someplace we could speak privately?”

  Ignoring Angie’s protests, Abby and Tilly rose from the kitchen table and walked to the door. “We’ll check in at our houses, then return in about an hour.”

  Despite championing the Govenors to Sam, Angie found it difficult to be civil to Winnie Govenor. She had to force herself to pour the last of the coffee into a cup and set it on the table in front of Winnie. If Winnie hadn’t been a stiffly formal woman, she couldn’t have watched Angie struggle to manage the pot and cup with her bandaged hands without offering to do it herself.

  “I’ll come to the point,” Winnie said, twisting the handkerchief in her lap. “Mr. Govenor informs me that Mr. Holland will undoubtedly arrange Daisy’s surgery to occur before the court’s deadline. I won’t say congratulations.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Angie said with a sigh.

  “But . . . perhaps it’s for the best.”

  That surprised Angie, being a greater concession than she had expected to hear from Winnie Govenor.

  “I would have done my duty,” Winnie hastened to add. “But perhaps it’s best that children be raised by young people.”

  “Mrs. Govenor, I’m terribly busy. . . .”

  She hadn’t yet familiarized herself with Molly’s kitchen. Donated clothing was piling up in the small parlor and it needed sorting and putting away. It was urgent that she contact Mr. Kravitz at once and arrange for new shoes for Daisy. They needed another icebox and more ice to hold the dishes of food arriving hourly. She had to borrow another cot for Sam. At some point he’d be able to lie down and they needed a place for him. Every few minutes she thought of something else that required her immediate attention.

  “Mrs. Holland, please.” Winnie’s pride crumpled and tears swam in her eyes. “Please don’t cut us off from our granddaughters. We want to be there when Daisy has her operation, and we want to be part of their lives. Please don’t deny us access to our granddaughters.”

  “That’s not my decision,” Angie said softly. Despite the unpleasantness that had passed between them, and despite not understanding Winnie Govenor, she didn’t want Lucy and Daisy to grow up without knowing Laura’s parents. As much as she disliked the Govenors, denying Lucy and Daisy access to their grandparents seemed wrong.

  “But you can influence Mr. Holland!”

  She wasn’t as convinced about that as Winnie Govenor seemed to be. But it didn’t matter anymore. Angie still felt the chill that had chased down her body when Sam had told her that Marcus Applebee had been kind enough to rush through the money for the L&D.

  “I’ll be leaving soon,” she said, testing the words on her tongue. Leaving Willow Creek, leaving the people she loved, leaving her heart.

  “What are you talking about?” Winnie demanded.

  “I told you the first time I met you. I came here to divorce Mr. Holland. He has the funds now, and the divorce can go forward.”

  Winnie drew back. “I don’t like that at all.”

  Startled, Angie smiled. “You surprise me, Mrs. Govenor.”

  “A man like him needs a woman, that’s plain. Mark my words, it won’t be long before he marries again. And what sort of woman do you think she’ll be?”

  Angie blinked. This wasn’t a subject she cared to consider.

  “Heaven knows if she’ll be fit to raise my granddaughters!”

  “As I recall, you don’t consider me fit.”

  “At least I know you, and I know my granddaughters care for you. You’re a plain-speaking woman, and so am I. We can speak our minds to each other. I know you have your faults, undoubtedly more faults than I’m aware of, but you remind me in many ways of Laura. Headstrong, stubborn, determined to have your own way.” Pursing her lips, she thought for a moment. “I wonder if there’s a way to get the court to prohibit your divorce.”

  Angie stood, signaling their conversation had ended. “Mrs. Govenor, stop trying to control other people’s lives,” she said gently. “It didn’t work with Laura, and it won’t work with me. As for your being present at Daisy’s operation, I’ll speak to Sam.”

  In fact, it was possible that she wouldn’t be present herself, a likelihood she couldn’t bear to consider. But remaining in Willow Creek until Daisy’s operation meant continuing the present arrangement between herself and Sam. She didn’t know how he would feel about that.

  After Winnie left, Angie tiptoed into the darkened bedroom to sit beside the girls. Each wore half a dozen bandages, and each had several small red burns that weren’t serious enough to require a bandage. Leaning over the bed, she kissed Lucy’s forehead and smoothed her singed bangs, then kissed the side of Daisy’s cheek.

  Tears stung her eyes as she gazed at them. In the last five months she had learned that children were frustrating, infuriating, and demanded enormous amounts of time, patience, and energy. They were also warm, funny, generous, giving, and loved in a simple straightforward manner that squeezed one’s soul.

  She had learned that children didn’t have to come from her body to be a part of her heart.

  For ten years Angie had waited for her life to begin. She had believed life couldn’t begin for her until after she divorced Sam, but she had been wrong. Blinking back tears, gazing at her sleeping daughters, she understood that her life had begun when she stepped off the train at the Willow Creek depot.

  They had a picnic for supper, eating donated food in the girls’ bedroom. Afterward, Sam delighted everyone by telling a bedtime story about a mother and father and two little girls who were accident prone. Someone in the family was always swathed in bandages.

  “Like us,” Daisy said, clapping her hands.

  “Was the oldest little girl very very brave?” Lucy asked.

  “Very brave,” Sam said gruffly. “One day she fell down and skinned her knee to the bone. It hurt badly, but she just waved a hand and said, Pish, and carried on.”

  Angie hid a smile. “She said pish?”

  “That’s what she said. Pish.”

  Daisy and Lucy giggled and shouted “Pish!” over and over until they were all laughing. When it came time for goodnight kisses, the girls held out their arms to Angie, too, as if they always had. She kissed them both, her fingertips lingering on soft smooth cheeks, and she felt like crying.

  At the doorway, she looked back into the room. “Daisy? Will you feel safe without a lamp in the sink? Your papa and I will be just outside your door.”

  Daisy yawned, immediately sleepy from the nighttime dose of laudanum. “I think so.”

  Angie blew them another kiss and quietly closed the door.

  “I saw a couple of beer bottles in the icebox,” Sam said. “Do you want one?”

  “Thank you.” She would have liked to go outside and sit on the stoop as they always did, but Molly’s house had only two steps and besides, the odor of ash was unpleasantly strong. They sat at Molly’s table, and Angie smiled at the old faded oilcloth, remembering Molly’s diamonds spread across it. “What’s this?” she asked when Sam slid an envelope toward her.

  “It’s two thousand dollars.” He rolled the beer bott
le between his fingertips. “That should keep you comfortably during the year you’re waiting for the divorce to be final.”

  Now it was real. But her life felt as if it were ending rather than beginning.

  “I wish I could give you more.”

  “No, no,” she whispered. “This is plenty.”

  Sam cleared his throat and raised his head. “I have a favor to ask. Will you stay until after Daisy’s operation? I think it would comfort her and help her through the ordeal. And it’s only another two weeks.”

  Now it was real. They were talking about her leaving.

  “Some time ago I promised Daisy I’d be with her for the operation. If you hadn’t said something, I would have asked your permission to stay until it’s over.”

  “Asked my. . . ?” He shook his head and rested his bandaged hands on the tabletop. After a lengthy silence, he drew a breath. “We’ll take the train to Colorado Springs. Stay in a hotel near the hospital.”

  “Did you decide to allow the Govenors to be there during Daisy’s surgery?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “I’d be happy never to see Herb and Winnie Govenor again.”

  “Do you think that’s what Laura would have wanted?” Angie asked gently. “You said yourself that she hated being estranged from her parents.”

  “I can tell you this. If Herb and Winnie had won custody, they sure as hell wouldn’t have allowed me to see my daughters!”

  “That would have been wrong.”

  “Damned straight it would have.”

  She let his words hang on the night air. He wouldn’t like it, he’d hate it in fact, but in the end, Sam Holland would do the right thing. Angie would have staked her life on that.

  They sat in discomfort and quiet, the good mood of the bedroom picnic behind them.

  “Are you still planning to move to Denver?” Angie asked finally.