Amelia was completely taken off guard by his proposal and swallowed hard.
“Straight ahead of you is a night table. There’s a tiny velvet box in the drawer. I want you to get it.”
She found the drawer and fumbled through it to retrieve the tiny treasure to which he referred. Her heart pumped furiously.
“Open it.”
Her hands trembled as she opened the box and felt for the contents. When she realized what it contained, she drew in another deep breath.
“Oh, Paul!”
“It belonged to my mother. It has sapphires and rubies. I want you to have it as a symbol of my deep and devoted love for you.”
She wanted to say yes, that she would be his wife. She opened her mouth to say the wondrous words, but was interrupted by someone entering the room.
“Hey, you don’t look so good, Strupel,” Aaron teased. “But then again, I didn’t think you looked so good before.”
“This is no time for your jokes.” Corrin smacked Aaron in the ribs and then went to her dear friend’s side and kissed his cheek.
“You gave us quite a fright, Paul Strupel,” Corrin said. “We’re all just glad you’re going to be all right.”
“Thanks. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. Got too much to live for.” Paul squeezed her hand to let her know he was talking about her.
She smiled and returned his squeeze and hid the tiny box in her pocket.
The door flung open again.
“So, you’re back with us, huh?” Doc Glover said. “Excuse me, Miss Jackson, please, while I examine my patient.”
Amelia backed away from the bed, her mind going wild with thoughts of Paul and his proposal of marriage.
Soon Mrs. Scranton appeared carrying a tray bearing a bowl of broth. “Doc, I warmed him some broth. We’ve managed to get some down him every day, just like you asked.”
“Good. We need to start immediately to help him get his strength back.”
The small group huddled about the bed, but Amelia couldn’t concentrate on anything that was being said. No one even noticed that she quietly slipped out of the room. She stopped downstairs in the entryway, retrieved her mackintosh overcoat, and slipped outside for some fresh air. A walk would help clear her mind. She knew she loved Paul Strupel, and her initial reaction was that she wanted to marry him. But she also knew such decisions in one’s life ought to be made carefully.
Could a blind lady be the right kind of wife for someone like Paul? After all, her parent’s marriage . . . well, they both could see and it hadn’t helped them.
She thought she had counted each turn she made as she strolled down the town street. Thinking she had gone four blocks, she turned right and continued. Before long, expecting to be back at Paul’s front door, she discovered that she wasn’t. She was lost!
This aggravated her as she turned to retrace her steps, recalling the number of streets passed before each turn she made, however this was of no avail. She was still lost.
Remembering how her mother had told her that if she ever got lost. . . Amelia quickly shook the remembrance of the last time she had need of that advice and soon located a huge oak tree and sat down, leaning against its strong trunk.
Then she remembered the tiny, velvety box. Withdrawing it from her pocket, she gingerly opened it, fingering the ring, locating each stone, discovering the pattern of the filigree surrounding them. She dared to try it on. It fit as if it had been specially made for her finger. However, believing it improper to accept the token before actually accepting the proposal, she replaced it into the protection of its sheltering box.
She’d only just discovered her love for him. Was it too soon to consider marriage? Did he know what he was getting himself into by asking a blind lady to marry him? Did she know what she would be getting herself into if she said yes?
› › ›
I can’t find her. She’s just not here!” Corrin was distraught at her niece’s disappearance. “I don’t understand. She never goes anywhere without telling me first. Paul’s been asking for her. It’s not good for him to have to worry about her right now.”
“Paul fell asleep a few minutes ago,” Jeremiah said. “I’m going to go look for her.” He grabbed his buckskin coat, leather gloves and his hat and proceeded out the door.
“Wait!” Aaron called to him, grabbing his own coat. “I’ll help you.”
The two sprang to their horses and headed in different directions. Jeremiah headed for the saloon, thinking she may have gone home for something, but Harry hadn’t seen her since the day after the shooting. He then wandered up and down the streets of Glory Gulch, keenly looking one way and then another. His heart pumped wildly, fearful something may have happened to her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Amelia felt a drop of water, then another and another. Rain! The drops pelted her as the wind picked up with a fury. Within minutes, she was drenched. She didn’t know where she was. Perhaps this was someone’s yard. Or was she on the edge of town? She pushed on as she looked for shelter and quickly discovered a fence. With some difficulty, she located the gate and proceeded down the walkway at what she surmised to be someone’s house.
The torrential rain accompanied by the heavy winds forced her to fight with all her might just to remain standing. She came upon some stairs, climbed them, and discovered she was upon someone’s porch. She was soaked through to her skin, as if she had jumped into a bathtub of water with her clothes on. She shivered violently.
› › ›
Jeremiah returned to the Strupel home only to find Amelia had not returned yet. Aaron hadn’t found her either. He turned to go back out into the storm and Corrin began to cry again.
› › ›
Amelia knocked on the door. No answer. She pounded again loudly. She was shivering greatly and turned to decide whether to wait there and freeze or to go back out into the storm to find someone who was home.
The door finally opened behind her and a soft, elderly woman’s voice broke through the storm. Amelia thought she recognized the voice, but through the tumult of the storm, she couldn’t be sure.
“Hello. May I help you?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes! Thank you,” Amelia replied as she turned toward the direction of the voice. “I’m blind and I’m lost and I got caught in the rain!”
“Oh, my! Miss Jackson! Please, come in right away.” She was promptly ushered into the house.
“Rachel,” the lady called to someone. “Please, go upstairs and get Miss Jackson a robe and slippers and a blanket. And then heat up some tea. Add a little honey and lemon to it too, please.”
Amelia heard dainty female footsteps rushing to do the elderly woman’s bidding.
The woman then turned her attentions back to her soggy visitor whose teeth now chattered.
“Come, dear, we need to get you by the fire.”
Amelia was routed to a cozy, warm room, and the lady began to relieve her of her wet clothes. She was soon wrapped in a warm robe and slippers with a blanket snuggled around her. Only her face and hands protruded to hold a steaming, delicious cup of tea.
“Your voice sounds familiar to me. Have we met?”
“I’m Ruth Swathorn, Paul’s Aunt. You and Paul came to supper one night about three weeks ago. Do you remember me now? How did you get lost, dear?”
That’s why her voice sounded familiar. Amelia sighed deeply, thankful to be in the company of a familiar person. She recalled the story to Mrs. Swathorn about how she was preoccupied and forgot to accurately count streets, carefully not divulging what had caused her mind to wander.
“And how is Paul doing?”
“He awoke a while ago. He is very weak and in a lot of pain.” She remembered him wincing at her touch. “But the Doctor says he will be fine with a lot of rest.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Terrible thing that happened to him. I would never have imagined that sort of thing could ever happen to our Paul. I’ll send Rachel to tell every
one you’re all right, just as soon as the storm dies down some.”
“Mrs. Swathorn, I know you’re fond of Paul. Would you tell me about him---as a boy, I mean?” Amelia’s interest was sparked at the possibility of learning more about the man she loved.
“My, where shall I start? Glory Gulch started out as a mining establishment, but it was soon discovered that there wasn’t any gold or silver to be found, so the miners abandoned the place, chasing their dreams to other parts of the mountains. However, the springs nearby were believed to possess magical healing powers and soon, many rich people from Denver and a few from back East started to build summer homes here. The Strupels built their house when Paul was about five years old. They came almost every summer and stayed as late as they could into autumn.
“As Paul grew he started to make some seedy friendships. He got into all sorts of trouble at school, at church, and in the community. The big city simply offered too much mischief for such a boy as Paul.”
“Paul was a bad boy?” This couldn’t possibly be her Sweetheart Mrs. Swathorn was talking about.
“Yes, indeed. Folks around here used to wish his parents would leave him home for the summer. He brought all his mischief making here to the Gulch. Then his father died suddenly from an accident when Paul was about ten years old. A wagon overturned on him. Paul’s mother almost lost control of him after that. So she decided to get him as far away from the city as she could, sold the family house in New York, and settled in here.
“Paul was quite rebellious at first, missing the companionship of his rowdy friends from the city. He began to seek out other boys his own age to try to stir up some mischief. When he met Jeremiah Cowan, the two fast became best friends. Only it wasn’t Paul who influenced Jeremiah; it was the other way around. The Cowans took him under their wing, treating him like a son, which Paul drank in to soothe his troubled soul.
“Paul would spend months at a time at the Cowan cabin where he learned the value of hard work and having fun without getting into trouble. And he learned the value of human life as well as gaining an appreciation for the peaceful mountains that were all around him.”
“Often in the winter months, Jeremiah would stay at the Strupel home. His mountain upbringing wouldn’t allow him to be rude to a lady, and he was always polite to Mary, Paul’s Mother. And soon Paul also began to treat his mother with a long awaited respect and politeness.”
Amelia was completely caught up in the story, sipping her tea, leaning forward to catch every word Mrs. Swathorn said.
“Mary Strupel told me a story once of how Paul had watched her closely when they were invited to take Sunday supper at the Cowan’s two room log cabin. His mother had maidservants to take care of her and her household, but there at the cabin, Mary rolled up her sleeves and pitched in with the cooking and clearing the dishes. And when she was finished, Paul closely eyed her as she looked around for a chair. He was certain she would embarrass him. Well, there wasn’t an available chair, so Mary lifted her expensive, taffeta skirt and sat down on the dirty cabin floor as if nothing were different from her own immaculate house. Oh the floor had been swept, but with all those people tracking in dirt, well the floor was far from immaculate. Paul admired his mother for her acceptance of his mountain friends and their customs. His own heart grew with new found respect for her.”
“He grieved deeply when the Cowans died of typhoid. He watched Jeremiah---about fifteen now---take over the raising of his little brother. I think Aaron was about nine. Paul wanted to help by either giving him money or having them come live in the large, Strupel house, but the mountaineer ways were proud, and Jeremiah wouldn’t accept charity. The Strupels knew the boys needed help, so every chance they could get they asked Jeremiah to paint the house or build a fence or fix something that mysteriously got broken. Mary paid them well, often adding foodstuffs to the boy’s money.”
Amelia smiled, remembering her aunt’s words of how deep this friendship went.
“Soon, Jeremiah took on a job as a woodcutter, and Paul went with him to help out. The two were young and strong and together cleared more trees than a lot of men. They soon became partners in their own logging business. They were inseparable.”
“Mrs. Swathorn, how did Mrs. Strupel die?”
“Pneumonia." Paul and Jeremiah were in their early twenties by now. Both grieved as if she had bore twin sons. Paul’s sharp mind thought up a way to help the Cowans even further. If he built a sawmill nearby with some of his inheritance money, they could hire more workers and offer more services to their customers. So the two split their ventures, each one still needing and relying upon the other.”
Mrs. Swathorn set her teacup on a side table and leaned back in her chair. “They both became respected pillars in the community, each in their own right.”
“And, what of my aunt?”
“Oh, you know about that?”
“Yes, she told me once they both were fighting over her. What ever happened?”
“Your aunt was a beautiful woman---still is. You look a lot alike, you know.”
“Yes, people have told me that.”
“The two became enamored of her. They fought over her with all they had, but she wouldn’t even give them the time of day. I guess she had been spurned by another fellow and simply didn’t want anything to do with men. She told them straight out, but they ignored her and went right on fighting. The whole town thought that would be the end of their friendship. Almost was too.
“When they finally got it through their thick skulls that Miss Dannon was not the least bit interested romantically in either of them and never would be, it was almost too late. Too many hurtful things had been said and done. Their deep friendship had been wounded. It took them some time to reconcile, and when they did, they vowed to never let a woman---or anything---come between them again.”
“A couple months ago when I saw you being escorted to Miss Dannon’s party by Jeremiah and then kissed by Paul at the piano, I thought it was happening all over again. But then Jeremiah disappeared and the town watched as you and Paul fell in love.
Amelia gulped, having heard them fight and knowing she was the cause. She also knew the hurt Jeremiah must have felt as he stepped aside to allow his dear friend to fall in love with her. She often had sensed that he still had some strong feelings for her. How deep his love for Paul must be for him to do such a thing. She had only encountered such a love once before in her life, the love her Savior had for her when he laid his life down so that she could be saved.
Amelia remembered the ring. She pulled the tiny box out from under the blanket where it had been safely resting on her lap and held it up for Mrs. Swathorn to see.
“I wondered what that was. You were clutching it so tightly.” As Amelia opened the box, Ruth Swathorn drew in a deep breath.
“That’s Mary Strupel’s ring! But how did you get it?”
“Paul gave it to me after he woke up. He asked me to marry him and said he wanted me to have this.”
“I’m so happy for both of you!” The elderly woman gathered Amelia up into her arms. “I know how much he loves you. Welcome to the family.” Mrs. Swathorn brushed tears from her eyes.
“But I didn’t have a chance to accept his proposal. People began pouring into the room before I could answer him. I thought I would get some fresh air to clear my head to think more distinctly, but I got myself lost because all I could think of was Paul.”
“I think you know what your answer is, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Aunt Corrin had asked her a similar question not long ago. She marveled at the wisdom that accompanied age.
“Then you must go to him at once. Look, it’s cleared up outside.”
Amelia hadn’t noticed that the storm had passed, and she had no idea how long she had been sitting there by the fire. She reached for her clothes. They were dry enough to wear again.
“What time is it, Mrs. Swathorn?”
“Why, it’s nearly one o’clock. My, time fli
es when you’re in such wonderful company.”
“But that means I have been gone for hours. They will all be worried about me. I must get back.” Amelia hastily dressed and Mrs. Swathorn sent her housekeeper to escort her back to the Strupel residence. As she felt the fence that surrounded Paul’s property, Amelia smiled, knowing Jeremiah had built it.
Corrin came rushing out to meet them, grabbing her niece up in her arms, holding her tightly and crying softly. “Oh, honey. I’ve been so worried about you. We all have. Paul woke up and has refuses to rest until he knows you are safe.”
Amelia thanked Rachel for bringing her home and then recounted the morning’s events to her Aunt as they entered the house.
Only a few minutes had passed when the front door swung open with a bang and Amelia heard Jeremiah’s heavy footsteps. Corrin met him in the entrance.
“Have you heard anything from her yet?”
“She just got here.”
He rushed into the parlor and caught Amelia up in his strong arms and held her closely, shaking with relief. “Thank God. You’re safe.” He kissed her on top of her head. “I thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m sorry. I took a walk and miscounted streets and got lost. Then I got caught in the storm and ran to the first house I could find. It was Mrs. Swathorn’s house. I was drenched and had to wait for my clothes to dry and for the storm to pass.” Amelia knew her explanation wouldn’t justify his having spent almost four hours looking for her. “I really am very sorry, Jeremiah.”
“I was just so worried.”
“Jeremiah Cowan, you should know by now that God is always looking out for me.”
“Yeah. I guess I should.” He loosened his grip and held her in front of him. “Paul’s been waiting for you.” He took her arm and guided her up the stairs and then into the bedroom.
“Amelia!” Paul called to her. “I was so concerned about you, Angel. Are you all right?
She immediately tapped her way to Paul’s side as Jeremiah slipped downstairs. “I’m so sorry to have distressed you, Sweetheart. I took a walk and got lost. Mrs. Swathorn took care of me while the storm passed. We had a good, long talk, and then all I wanted was to be here with you.” She inhaled deeply. “I love you, Paul Strupel. And I would count it a privilege and a pleasure to be your wife.”
Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Page 18
