“That will be fine. I like Mrs. Conner,” she said. “I think you’re wonderful for going up there to be with him tonight. Thank you, Paul. It will make me feel better too.”
He kissed her tenderly and she kissed him back.
“I’m sorry for all the fighting over you that we did.” He traced her chin with his finger. “But you were worth the fight.”
He turned and she listed to his footsteps go down the hallway and then head downstairs. And then he was gone out into the night.
› › ›
It was almost two o’clock in the morning when Paul arrived at the familiar log cabin. He saw that a lamp was lit, so he entered without knocking as he had done so many times through the years.
Jeremiah sat at the table, swirling a glass of whisky in his hand, a bottle within reach. He snatched an empty glass and poured some whisky into it.
“You’re just in time, Strupel. This party was beginning to get a little boring.”
“Have you been drinking all night?”
“No. Haven’t had that much. Maybe you’re starting to rub off on me.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” Paul surveyed the cozy room. “Nothing ever changes up here, does it?”
“Nope. This is one thing I can count on always being here. Say, why haven’t you been up here more often?”
“Because you live at the camp more than you do here. I’m up there all the time if you recall.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We sure had some good times up here, didn’t we?” Jeremiah smiled, swallowed a mouthful of whisky, and leaned back in his chair.
“Remember that time when we were kids and we put that garter snake in Aaron’s bed?” Paul laughed.
“Yeah. Just watching him jump and holler was worth the whipping my pa gave me. And I remember the time he whipped you for convincing Aaron that he could fly by holding an eagle feather in each hand and flapping like a bird.”
Paul nodded his head, laughing uncontrollably now.
“You gave him a boost up onto the roof of the outhouse and actually talked him into jumping off! You were lucky he didn’t break any bones or anything. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Paul answered. “I did some pretty stupid things back then. And your father was always whipping me right along with you. He was a great man, your father. As soon as he discovered I didn’t have a father, he took me under his wing and treated me as if I were one of his own sons. I don’t know where I’d be today if it weren’t for him. I still miss him sometimes.”
“Well, you’ve always been like a brother to me.” Jeremiah’s reddened eyes welled up with tears, and he pressed his lips tightly together in an attempt to keep them from flowing. He stood and walked over to where his friend stood and looked directly into Paul’s face. Then he started to cry. “I didn’t know it would hurt this bad, Paul. I had no idea she’d gotten to me like this.”
Paul put an arm around his friend’s shoulder and Jeremiah clung tightly to him. Now Paul was sure that he had been drinking more than he let on. It was the whisky that was making him react so strongly. He’d seen it in him before. But he also wasn’t too quick to discount his friend’s feelings altogether.
He stayed at the cabin into the early morning hours as the two became deeply engrossed in conversation. Jeremiah described the events leading up to his decision to step aside for Paul to have Amelia to himself.
Around four-thirty, Jeremiah cooked a breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, bread with butter and preserves and coffee. Their stomachs full, their weary bodies now yearned for sleep.
“Since Aaron spent the night in town, you don’t suppose he’d mind if I use his bed for awhile, do you?” Paul asked.
“No, go ahead. I’m going to lay down awhile myself.” Jeremiah yawned and headed for his bed. Turning to Paul first, he snickered and said, “Just be sure to check for snakes first.”
Paul grinned, confident that Jeremiah would be just fine. He drifted off to sleep, weary from the long night with his inebriated friend. But his last thoughts were of a young lady in a pink gown.
CHAPTER TEN
The heated summer days quickly gave way to September’s cool spells. The scandalous gossip of how Mr. Strupel had wooed Miss Jackson right out from under Mr. Cowan’s nose at the dance had faded and people became accustomed to seeing the two together.
Unless he had an appointment to meet a client, Paul looked forward to visiting with Amelia every morning on the porch. She now snuggled under a warm cape or shawl while waiting for him, for the mornings in the mountains had turned chilly. And he returned almost every evening to take supper with her, sometimes there at the saloon with Corrin doting over the two, and sometimes at Sarah Jane’s. Every now and then the couple found themselves with a special invitation to eat supper in someone’s home.
But Amelia set aside Sundays for her family, for that was the only day her aunt was freed from the saloon to rest and spend time with her. And usually Paul tagged along. This arrangement was mutually agreeable, since they all liked each other’s company. The threesome enjoyed many fine picnics whenever the weather permitted, and during rain they hibernated in the kitchen at the Silver Slipper Saloon or upstairs in Corrin’s parlor.
Mrs. Conner soon discovered that if she stocked small, feminine items that were pink, Paul was sure to purchase them all. He also had ordered several Braille books for her, much to Mrs. Conner’s delight. They were very expensive and would bring the Mercantile a nice profit.
Numerous mornings Amelia emerged from her room to embark on the day’s activities only to find a package containing a wonderful surprise outside her door. Her aunt would smile whenever she would show her the treasure---always something pink. Amelia beamed as she retrieved a soap dish with embossed flowers she could identify with her fingertips, a bottle of rose bath salts, silk hair ribbons, a hand embroidered handkerchief, a cameo brooch, lace gloves that had been died pink, and even a parasol. She delighted in these things because they came from Paul, although she chastised him often for spending so much money on her. But he ignored her and continued anyway.
Every free moment he could pull away from the mill, Paul passed the time luxuriating in Amelia’s sweet presence. Sometimes they took long walks and talked for hours while getting to know each other more intimately. They also enjoyed frequent jaunts on Colorado’s sturdy back, each of them relishing the idea of being so near the other, sometimes riding to nowhere in particular. They often rode to the field of wildflowers where Paul helped her to memorize their individual names, but they had faded in autumn’s cool embrace. He told her his mother was responsible for his wildflower education, and he spoke fondly and often of her.
Once each week they rode up the mountain to the Cowan Brother’s Logging Camp for Paul to conduct business, but mostly just for the sake of visiting with good friends. Jeremiah and Paul still jabbed each other every chance they could get, however, it was more in fun now rather than the display of hostilities Amelia sensed shortly upon her arrival in Glory Gulch.
And Jeremiah would still lavish all his attentions on her, which sometimes unnerved her. She simply didn’t know whether to take him seriously or not.
As Paul and Amelia enjoyed each other’s companionship, they became acutely aware of the numerous traits, principals and interests they had in common. Their friendship blossomed and their love increased, but Amelia still had difficulty voicing this to him.
Amelia particularly enjoyed their frequent conversations about God. And Paul would often bring his new Bible and read to her from the sacred Scriptures, which was usually followed by a discussion of the newly read passage, gleaning all they could from the wondrous Words. Frequently there would be a particular passage Amelia wanted to memorize, so he would patiently assist her.
She settled in her new home and thrived on the routine of it.
› › ›
Late one night in the last week of September, Amelia, having long retired to her bedroom, w
as sleeping fitfully and awoke with a sharp pain in her abdomen, recognizing the unpleasant pangs of impending dysentery. It must have been something she ate for supper, she reasoned. The small chamber pot was not going to be a useful tool in this situation, so Amelia rose grudgingly, dressed herself and shuffled downstairs. She was greeted by several familiar masculine voices.
“Hello there, Miss Jackson.”
“How are you tonight, Miss Jackson?”
“Yer up kinda late, aren’t ya, Miss Jackson?”
Amelia had never been in the saloon past eight o’clock since her aunt’s party, and she was usually escorted to her door by Paul.
“Are you all right, sweetie?”
“No. I’m not feeling too well, Aunt Corrin. I’m going to the privy. Hopefully, that will help.”
Corrin escorted her to the kitchen door. Amelia knew her way through the dark, so there was no need for her to accompany her.
When Amelia emerged from the outhouse she felt a large hand cup her mouth and a tight grip around her middle. She was dragged into the woods in the deepest hours of the night with the shuffling of feet against the forest floor and her muffled screams the only sounds to penetrate the silence. She struggled to get away, but the man was very large and overpowering. If she could only free her mouth to scream for help!
He hauled her through the woods for what seemed like an eternity to her. Her heart pounded furiously as she prayed in desperate silence to God to protect and rescue her. Despairing tears flooded over her cheeks and the man’s unwelcome hand. He finally stopped and with an ugly, eerie voice, he put his mouth to her ear, giving her a blast of the awful liquor smell of his breath.
“It’s no use for you to scream, my pretty lady. We’re so far from everything that no one would be able to hear you way out here.” He taunted her with a sinister laugh. “And besides, you might actually enjoy yourself.”
He let go of her, and Amelia immediately dropped to her knees and folded her hands. “Dear Lord! Please forgive this poor drunken soul. He has no idea of the sin he is about to commit. He lives in darkness, guided by the darkness. Please, save his soul from the imminent destruction and---”
The man pulled her up by her shirt collar, ripping and tugging at it until it came off, leaving her delicate camisole as inadequate protection from the cold September mountain air. She was thrown backward to the ground, and in an instant she felt his full weight upon her.
Amelia fought him with all her strength, scratching his face and throat with her fingernails, drawing blood. His strong arm caught her hand, and as he pulled it away from his face, a hard blow to her cheek caused her head to twist. The sting on her face wasn’t nearly as terrible as the fear and anguish that ravaged her heart. She continued to fight him. He firmly held her head still as he kissed her hard and repulsively on her mouth, his whisky breath nauseating her. She battled him with all her fury, hitting him on the side of the head.
“I didn’t think you would be this much trouble.” She heard him say as he began to hit her repeatedly with his fists, first in the mouth, then in her side, taking her breath away momentarily. He kept pelting her body mercilessly with his blows. Amelia tried to shield herself from them with little consequence.
She screamed and cried out, “Please, stop! God, please help me!”
“Your God isn’t here, honey. I’m the only man you need right now.” She heard the man’s ugly laugh and he stopped his abuse momentarily.
Her wrists were forced over her head and her right hand hit a hard object. Amelia realized the rock was slightly bigger than her hand. This was the answer to her prayers, but how could she use it? The power of his grip on her wrists was bruising them. She had to get him to let go of her arms. Gathering all the voice she could muster, she spoke to him through her tears in her sweet Southern accent.
“Please sir. Don’t hit me anymore. I’ll stop fighting you if you would please stop hitting me.”
“You will?”
Amelia thought he sounded pleased at the thought that he finally had a willing prize.
“Yes,” she said weakly.
In an instant her arms were free. She grasped the rock firmly with both hands and with all the strength that was left in her, delivered one very hard, sharp blow to the back of his head. She heard him yell and he fell away from her, all the while shouting ugly curses.
Gathering her wits, Amelia bolted to her feet and began to run, arms flinging from side to side in front of her in an attempt to prevent herself from banging into any trees. Her already sick body ached from the numerous blows and protested severely with excruciating pain. Her face was cut and bleeding in several places and she couldn’t stand up straight. But she forced herself to continue on.
Her escape was difficult and slow in her blindness, and she received many additional cuts and scrapes on her arms and face from low pine and spruce branches. But she kept on. How long would the man be incapacitated? She needed to get as far away as possible. Maybe his drunkenness would also prevent him from being able to locate her.
She heard his cursing voice behind her, the words vulgar and repulsive. She had to hide, but where? How? She stopped, hunched at the base of a tree and prayed fervently for God’s protection. His footsteps were fast approaching her and he soon staggered within a foot of her, and then continued on into the night. He hadn’t even seen her!
When she was sure he was far enough away for her to be relatively safe, Amelia struggled to her feet, holding her side, unable to breathe properly or to stand up straight. What was she to do now? She had no idea how to get back to town.
Think! What had her mother always told her? She remembered. If she ever got lost, it was best to stay put and wait for someone who was inevitably searching for her. How wise was this thinking under the present circumstances? But what else could she do? Her aunt was sure to have been out looking for her by now.
Then a strong, urgent prodding welled up inside her. Go! Amelia knew she couldn’t stay there and felt such an insistence within her that she began to run again.
Lord, I don’t have any idea where I’m going, but You do. Mother told me that you would direct the paths of those who acknowledge you in all their ways. I acknowledge you right now, Lord. You gave me the means to escape, now I trust You to guide me to safety.
She tripped along, her bruised body complaining with each step she took. And quickly her arms and neck were scarred and bloody from the lashings she took from the forest. But she ran on. She was cold, very cold. She felt an urging from within to turn and run in another direction. So she turned. And she stumbled on.
› › ›
Corrin was horrified when she went out to check on her niece. She had been gone for over twenty minutes and perhaps was sicker than she had realized. But upon arriving at the outhouse she found the door open and Amelia’s cane lying on the ground. The sickening reality cut through to her pounding heart. She ran to get Harry and Tom who enlisted two more men they could trust and who had not been drinking too much to begin searching for Amelia.
But they all knew that in these mountains at night it would take a much broader effort than that, so Corrin borrowed a horse and headed to Paul Strupel’s house. There was no formal government in Glory Gulch, and he usually acted as Constable whenever the need arose. This was one of those times. She pounded relentlessly on his door until he appeared, yawning as he held a candle up to see who the intruder was.
Corrin was weeping and out of breath.
Paul opened the door and held up a lamp to see who it was. When he saw her, his face went from sleepy to somber. “Corrin! What is it?”
“It’s Amelia! She’s disappeared from the privy. I found her cane on the ground nearby.”
“Oh, dear God! No!” Paul’s face drained of its color.
He disappeared, and in a moment returned wearing a coat and boots and carrying a rifle in one hand, loading it with the other. “Corrin, go to as many of my neighbors as you can and enlist as many men as possible to help
look for her. Tell them to bring their rifles and guns. And if anyone finds her, they should shoot three rounds into the air.” Then he impulsively reached out and embraced her. “We’ll find her, Corrin. Don’t you worry about that.”
Paul ran to the street, mounted the horse Corrin had borrowed, and rode away into the night as Corrin headed out into the neighborhood to pound on more doors.
› › ›
Paul had searched for almost an hour in the mountain forest that rose behind the saloon, his heart racing the whole time.
“Over here!” Harry’s familiar voice shouted nearby.
He rushed through the forage to where the bartender held a torch light over a white object laying in a heap on the ground. Immediately dismounting the horse, he bent over to retrieve it. Upon recognizing it, he halted his arm in mid-air. Amelia wore that shirt the first time she returned his kiss on the river bank! His heart pounded wildly, his breathing became strained. His own words resounded in his ears, we’ll find her.
And he prayed in desperation. “Please, Lord! Help us to find her, before it’s... too late!”
› › ›
Aaron Cowan looked toward the window of the cookhouse where he often went whenever he wasn’t able to sleep. The strange sound came again, like a hurt kitten. He opened the door and saw the figure of a woman stumbling through the camp in the moonlight.
He stepped out of the cookhouse and the woman stumbled toward him. She apparently had been hurt. He caught her with both hands, and with negligible strength, she began to beat his chest to try to free herself.
“Let me go!” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
Amelia? Aaron’s heart wrenched and his mouth dropped open. How had this happened?
“Please, don’t hurt me anymore!”
“Miss Jackson! It’s me, Aaron Cowan! You’re all right. You’re at the logging camp.”
“Aaron?” she questioned between laborious and painful breaths. Under the weight of sheer exhaustion and the beating her sick body had taken, she collapsed. Aaron caught her up and carried her to the small shanty he and his brother shared.
Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Page 12
