Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch)

by Jeanne Marie Leach

  Corrin wouldn’t look at the doctor as he stood on the blood-splattered stairs to deliver the news of his patient’s status. Aaron went to her, putting his arm around her as a tear fell down her cheek.

  Jeremiah remained near Amelia, holding tightly to her shoulders. But he was actually clasping her because this small room, pitch-dark when he first arrived, was now being seen through the lamplight. As they assembled into the entryway, his was not the only face that grew eminently pale at the horrendous sight of the puddle of caked blood on the floor and the spatters about the staircase. The realization that this blood was Paul’s compelled him to clutch her firmly in an effort to find solace for the pang that now tormented his own gentle heart. His dearest friend in the world had been short. And he found comfort in Amelia’s blindness.

  “Well, because I arrived here within a half hour after the shooting, I think he should be fine,” Doc Glover announced with a reserved smile.

  The group let out a deep sigh of relief, as if a train engine had just emitted a bellow of steam.

  “He took a bullet in his shoulder, right here.” Doc pointed to the spot using his own body as an example. “It shattered the bone and lodged itself in the shoulder, so I had to remove it. It was tricky and I also had to remove several bone fragments. I didn’t want to tear any more muscle than had already been damaged. I repaired the blood vessels and muscle tissue around the wound. He may lose some mobility in his arm, though.”

  Everyone listened intently.

  “The other bullet entered an inch below the first. It went straight through, which actually was to his benefit.” Again, Doc pinpointed the spot on his own shoulder. “He’s lost a lot of blood, so he’s pretty weak. But, like I said, I think he should make it. He needs a lot of rest over the next few weeks. I’ll stay here tonight just for precaution. You can go up now and see him, but don’t stay too long. He’s out right now and probably will be for some time, but that’s to be expected. Like I said, he’s very weak.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Corrin said as she shook his hand and was first to ascend the stairs, the others following closely behind her.

  Upon entering the room, Jeremiah immediately looked toward the bed where Paul Strupel’s wounded body lye, a large, thick bandage over his shoulder. His face was ashen even in the dimly-lit room.

  Amelia’s knees gave out. Jeremiah sensed this and caught her up in his strong arms, carried her over to a chair, and deposited her in it. She protested, but he insisted she stay there until she felt better.

  The room was unnaturally still except for Corrin’s quiet sniffling.

  The Doctor reappeared shortly and looked quizzically at Amelia sitting by the fireplace.

  “She started to faint so I made her sit there.” Jeremiah, feeling the tenseness, had whispered his answer to the Doctor.

  “Good,” he said as he approached Amelia to examine her.

  “I’m all right, Doctor. It’s just all those awful smells. I suppose I was a little overcome. May I please see him now?”

  Doc quickly assessed her as just being fatigued and stressed, which was understandable under these circumstances. She also looked pale and her whole body was trembling from the pressure.

  “Sure, let me take you to him.”

  He led her to the right side of the bed to avoid any possibility of her accidentally bumping or touching his wound. Jeremiah, who had been lovingly keeping a close eye on her stood behind her. He took her right hand and placed it on Paul’s hand, and then put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

  Trembling, she took Paul’s motionless hand with both of hers and drew it up to her heart. She kissed it. Tears streamed down her pallid face. She reached a shaky hand toward his head and stroked his hair, then kissed his cheek tenderly.

  It was difficult for Jeremiah to stay so close to her, watching her lavish her affections on his friend, feeling her body quake beneath his steadying hands, knowing she was hurting. His own eyes welled up with tears and his heart prompted him to flee, but his deep sense of commitment to his friendships wouldn’t allow him to do so.

  “I think you’d all better go now,” Doc announced. “I’ll stay tonight, and after that the rest of you can take turns staying with him as you see fit.”

  Corrin, Aaron and the others turned to leave, but Corrin stopped in the doorway when she realized that Jeremiah and Amelia hadn’t moved.

  The Doctor now stood beside Amelia who was still holding Paul’s hand and still being held by Jeremiah. He held out a glass with a minimal amount of water for her to take.

  “Here, Miss Jackson. I want you to drink all of this.”

  Jeremiah took the glass from him, pried her hands from Paul’s, and then carefully placed it in her shaking hands for her to drink.

  “I put something in it that will calm your nerves and will help you sleep tonight. I figured you’ve got a long week ahead of you, and I certainly don’t need another patient right now. That’s good. Drink it all.”

  When she had finished Amelia held the glass out for someone to take. The Doctor obliged and nodded to Corrin who was still waiting for her precious niece.

  “You’d best be getting her home directly.”

  Jeremiah escorted the ladies home, holding fast to Amelia. He ached for her, as well as for his dear, wounded friend. But at that moment, he felt he had to be strong for Amelia. He told the ladies that if they needed him, he’d be staying at Paul’s house until he was better. They thanked him, said goodnight, and disappeared into the Saloon.

  Jeremiah went back to his friend’s house. He would stay in one of the extra rooms as he had done so many times over the years and plopped himself down on the familiar bed. His breathing became difficult. That was actually Paul Strupel lying in that bed! This man was closer to him than his own brother. How could this happen to him? And Amelia’s sweet, tender, heart was breaking from the ordeal. His own heart ached and needed comforting, but there was no one there to console him. He rolled over, put his face in the pillow, and allowed himself to bathe it with his tears.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Amelia awoke, sat up and brushed the hair out of her eyes, remembering bits and pieces of the night before. She picked herself up out of bed to dress just as Corrin entered the room.

  “Oh, good. You’re up. How are you feeling, Sweetie?”

  “I feel rested. How long did I sleep?”

  “Well, it’s noon, so you had yourself a great, restful slumber.” Corrin tried to sound cheerful, having not slept so soundly herself.

  “Noon? I must get over to see Paul. What if he woke up and was asking for me---”

  “Now hold on, young lady. First of all, Jeremiah promised to tell us the minute Paul woke up and he hasn’t been by yet. Second, you are my primary concern right now. You are going to take a quiet, slow, relaxing, hot bath first, followed by a hearty lunch. Then, and only then, we will go to see Paul.” Corrin had never been so firm with her niece, but like the Doctor had said they didn’t want another patient on their hands right now.

  Amelia complied with her Aunt’s wishes; however her impatience was evident as she hastily bathed and dressed and was in the kitchen before Corrin even had a chance to check on her progress. She began gulping her lunch and Corrin stopped her by snatching her plate away.

  “Amelia, you’re not going to gobble up this food without chewing it. You need to slow down so your stomach can digest it.” She put the plate back on the table in front of her.

  “All right, Aunt Corrin. I’m sorry. But all I can think about is Paul lying there hurt and I want to be with him.”

  “I know, Honey. But if he wakes up and finds you not doing well, do you think that’ll help his healing process any?”

  “You’re right, Aunt Corrin.” Amelia slowed down to chew her food like a true lady.

  After lunch they left straightway for the Strupel house and arrived to find Paul still unconscious. Corrin pulled up a chair on the right side of the bed for Amelia, and the girl began her
vigil, stroking Paul’s motionless hand.

  Corrin, Jeremiah, Aaron, Mrs. Ruchers and Mrs. Scranton each took three-hour shifts caring for their ailing friend---checking his wound, wiping his brow with a damp, cool cloth, while Amelia never moved from her chair except to occasionally relieve herself or when someone insisted that she needed to eat something. Sometimes they would sit quietly for hours, and other times a hushed conversation would occur between Amelia and whoever was nursing Paul.

  Corrin was about to leave the room around eleven o’clock that night when Jeremiah entered the room for his next shift.

  “Come on, Honey.” She took hold of Amelia’s shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “It’s time to go home. You look tired.”

  Amelia stood, brushed Corrin’s hands away from her and firmly planted her feet on the floor.

  “No, Aunt Corrin. I’m not going anywhere. I am going to stay right here until Paul wakes up.” She turned abruptly and sat back in the chair and picked up his hand once again.

  “But Sweetie, the Doctor wants you to be sure to get your rest.”

  “I’ll rest right here.”

  Corrin looked pleadingly at Jeremiah who observed both ladies, and then simply shrugged. He certainly was no help to her.

  “Aunt Corrin, please don’t worry about me. I’m feeling fine. You saw Jeremiah last night. When he thought I needed to sit, he made me sit. I am sure he will watch out for me with just as much concern and authority as he did then.”

  Corrin looked at Jeremiah again, and he nodded in agreement with what Amelia had said.

  “All right, Honey. I’ll go back and help Harry at the bar. But please, you will take care of yourself won’t you?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  Corrin kissed her and hugged her shoulders and then left her niece in Jeremiah’s capable hands.

  › › ›

  At first the two sat in silence, the only sounds in the room were Paul’s heavy breathing and Jeremiah occasionally refreshing the cool towel and wringing it out in the basin on water before replacing it on Paul’s head.

  “Jeremiah. Do you know why this happened?” Amelia asked, still unable to fathom the fact that Paul had been willfully shot, even though he lay unmoving on the bed before her.

  “Paul fired his foreman a few days ago.” Jeremiah answered. “He’d been working for him for almost ten years. The mill has the same strict policy of no drinking on the job as we do. It’s for safety’s sake---working around all those saws. Well anyway, Paul had suspected another of his employees to be drinking for some time, but he couldn’t prove it. The man had arthritis and said Doc was giving him something for pain. Paul checked with Doc who said he was, in fact, prescribing pain medication.”

  “So Paul asked the foreman to tell him if he saw anything unusual, and he said he would. There were occasional accidents, but Paul could never place the blame on anyone. The foreman always convinced Paul that nothing unusual was happening and that the accidents were just that---accidents.”

  “Last week the man Paul suspected of drinking lost a couple fingers in a power driven saw. Paul was irate. Right there in the man’s back pocket of his trousers was a flask of whisky. He started to investigate and soon discovered that the foreman had been taking bribe money from several of the fellows in exchange for his silence and his subsequent allowance of drinking on the job.”

  “So you think the foreman shot him?”

  “Just before Paul went unconscious last night he told some neighbors the foreman’s name and that he had come to the house with a gun. Corrin said the man drank a lot in the Saloon just before the time of the shooting.”

  “The town formed a posse, and they caught up with him this afternoon. He was passed out from booze. They took him over to the Glenwood Springs jail, and when he sobered up some he was still so mad at Paul that he confessed to the crime---almost as if he were proud of it.”

  Amelia simply couldn’t understand how people thought they could solve their problems with violence. She sat very quietly after that, resting her head on the bed beside Paul to pray for him. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to rest for the first time since the shooting. She fought sleep for several minutes, but finally gave in to it.

  › › ›

  When Aaron came to relieve Jeremiah, he put his finger to his mouth and quietly motioned toward Amelia. “Shh.”

  Aaron let Amelia sleep as did Mrs. Scranton during her three hour shift that began at five in the morning.

  Corrin finally woke her around eleven in the morning as she shook her gently. “Sweetie, come on. Get up.”

  Amelia lifted her head from the bed and rubbed her stiff neck. “Is he awake yet?”

  “No, honey. He’s still sleeping. I brought you some things so you can freshen up, and Mrs. Scranton is getting some breakfast for you downstairs.” Corrin took her niece by the shoulders and helped her to her feet.

  “Who’s in here now?”

  “It’s me again,” Jeremiah answered. “Mrs. Ruchers couldn’t come, so since I’m here anyway, I’ll look after Paul. You go get something to eat. I promise to call you if he wakes up.”

  Amelia complied. Corrin had drawn a luxurious, hot, foaming bath for her in another room. She first pulled her niece’s hair up for her and secured it with several pins, and then Amelia sank down in the water, sighing deeply as she allowed the heat to soothe her tired, stiff neck and the achiness. She lingered there, almost falling asleep again. Corrin had to rouse her from her respite.

  “Sweetie, you’re wrinkling.” Corrin grinned, glad to see Amelia taking so much time to care for herself.

  Amelia dressed and the ladies went downstairs to the dining room where Paul’s housekeeper had made a delicious meal of muffins, poached eggs, bacon, fried potatoes and coffee. Amelia usually didn’t eat a breakfast that substantial, but her body had been so tired and stressed, she ate hungrily.

  Corrin continued to dote on her niece as the days slowly passed while Paul lay unconscious. She understood the fact that Amelia was not about to leave the Strupel house until she knew he was safely out of danger, so she persuaded Amelia to occasionally sleep in one of the other bedrooms.

  Amelia had told Corrin that she realized she loved Paul and that she’d never forgive herself for not telling him if he didn’t make it through this.

  › › ›

  On the morning of the seventh day after the shooting as Jeremiah was toweling Paul’s forehead, his friend began to stir. He watched him closely as he laboriously opened his eyes and tried to focus on who was hovering over him.

  Paul’s breathing became strained from pain. He closed his eyes again and finally spoke.

  “I must have died and gone to Hades. . . That’s definitely not the face of an angel.”

  “If you thought this little stunt would get you out of the Leadville lumber contract that easily, you’ve got another thing coming,” Jeremiah bantered with him.

  “Amelia?”

  “She’s been right here most of the time. Hardly left your side. Corrin finally pried her away a little while ago to get some breakfast.”

  “She’s...all right?”

  “Sure. It was tough on her the first night, though. Doc had to give her something to calm her nerves and help her sleep. But she’s pretty strong willed. Hey, we saw a side of her that I don’t think you’d believe if I told you. Bucked her Aunt, she did. And Corrin backed down. Now there’s something I thought I’d never see.”

  Paul smiled and then breathed painfully again. Jeremiah measured the exact amount of the white powder the Doctor had left for pain and mixed it with a small amount of water. He gently lifted Paul’s head and helped him drink the medicine.

  “Doc Glover said this will help with the pain. You might still hurt a little, but you should be more comfortable in no time.”

  “Thanks. Say, you didn’t try to steal her away from me while I was out?”

  “Why, sure. Gave it my best shot, but she didn’t even notice me. That rem
inds me, I promised her I would get her if you woke up, so I’d better---” Jeremiah was interrupted when the door opened and Amelia and Corrin walked in.

  Corrin immediately observed that their patient’s eyes were open and smiled broadly in relief as Paul winked and returned a weak smile.

  “Honey, I think there’s something you should know.”

  “What is it?” Her Aunt led her to her bedside chair. “Aunt Corrin, what is it? Has something happened?”

  “Hello, Angel.”

  “Paul!” Amelia drew in a deep breath and turned toward him, tears welling up in her eyes and quickly spilling over her cheeks. She bent forward to kiss him and hugged his neck. He winced with pain and she drew back hurriedly.

  “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

  Jeremiah wasn’t surprised to hear her call him that. Maybe it was a habit she picked up from her aunt or maybe it came from hearing people talk about the two this past week. No. She’d said it from her heart and he knew it. It just confirmed to him that he’d made the right decision to step back.

  “It’s all right,” Paul said. “Jeremiah gave me something . . . pain’ll go down soon.” He smiled at her and even through the affliction, Jeremiah could see the love registered there.

  “Come on, Corrin,” he said. “Let’s leave them alone for a minute. I’ve got to get the Doctor and you’ve got to heat up some of that broth.”

  Corrin kissed Paul’s cheek and she and Jeremiah left the room.

  › › ›

  Amelia settled into her chair beside the bed, delightedly picking up the hand that had once been motionless but now squeezed hers back. She kissed it. “Oh, Paul. I was so frightened that I would never get the chance to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That I love you.”

  Paul tried to get up, but the pain pushed him backward onto the bed. “Then marry me Amelia---my Angel. I love you so much. I want this house to be filled with the sound of your voice, your laughter and your sweet music. I want to see your lovely, angelic face every time I wake up. Please, say you’ll marry me.”