Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch)

by Jeanne Marie Leach

  “I do want you to have fun, Angel. But I have to admit I’ll miss you something awful.”

  “I know. And I’ll miss you too.”

  “Never forget that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.” He couldn’t seem to let go of her.

  “Oh, Paul. I have never loved anyone like this before either.” She kissed him and then broke his embrace to board the stage. He swooped her up and planted her feet onto the floor of the stage.

  As they pulled out of town, Paul sighed and headed back to the mill. At least he had plenty of work to keep him busy for the next five days.

  › › ›

  The ladies had a delightful time in Glenwood Springs. They chose the loveliest wedding gown of ivory satin and lace, trimmed with lots of beads and ribbons and bows. Amelia felt almost giddy as she tried it on and turned for her aunt.

  “Can you believe it, Aunt Corrin? I’m going to be married,” she cooed.

  They also chose a lovely, ivory-lace veil that would hide Amelia’s face until the moment in the ceremony when Paul would lift it and kiss her for the first time as his wife.

  Besides shopping, they attended the opera and the theater and ate at fine dining establishments. Both were glad to have this time alone, and although Amelia missed Paul, they kept so busy that the time nearly flew by.

  Soon they were back on the stage, their many bundles and packages tied firmly to the top. They chattered chattering about the trip like the hummingbirds that never seem to be quiet.

  When the stage was about thirty minutes out of Glenwood Springs, a distant shot was heard in the woods. The driver quickly called to his passengers, all three females.

  “Nothing to worry about ladies, just hunters out after deer or elk!”

  Amelia had been holding her breath, remembering just five weeks ago that Paul had been shot. Now she missed him very much and was anxious to meet him when they arrived back in Glory Gulch.

  “That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing.” The third passenger, a young lady about Amelia’s age said.

  “She’s talking about your ring, Honey,” Corrin advised her niece.

  “Oh, thank you very much. My fiancé gave it to me. We’re to be married in only eight more days.” Amelia’s heart fluttered every time she thought about Paul, which was nearly every minute she was awake.

  “How wonderful for you. My name is Melissa Perser. I’m on my way back home to Runyon Canyon. I’ve been going to school in California and I’ve missed my family so much. I also have a beau back home who I can’t wait to see again.”

  Corrin and Amelia smiled to hear her excitement.

  Then a shot rang out so near them the ladies thought surely the stagecoach had been the target. The sudden noise spooked the horses, and they jumped with a start and shot forward, running frantically. The driver pulled back on the reigns and repeatedly shouted, “Whoa!”

  The ladies held onto the sides of the coach and to each other as they went careening down the road. The horses gained speed and ran wildly when they suddenly turned a sharp bend.

  The driver shouted at the top of his lungs, “Jump ladies! Jump now!”

  Corrin instinctively opened the door and pushed Amelia out just as the coach rounded the bend and tipped over, tumbling end over end and finally crashing loudly into the gully below.

  The dreadful sound of the stage going over the hill resounded in Amelia’s ears as she screamed, “Aunt Corrin! Aunt Corrin!” Within a few seconds, the air was deafeningly still. She had been lying in a snow bank and stood to her feet. Her hip was bruised and hurt, but she knew she was all right.

  “Aunt Corrin! Where are you! Please, answer me! Aunt Corrin!”

  She felt a hand on her shaking shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” It was the driver.

  “Yes, I’m fine, but what about my aunt? And Melissa? Why won’t anyone answer me?”

  › › ›

  The stage driver had no answer for the blind passenger. “The embankment is too steep for you to climb down. You’d never make it. You just sit here and I’ll go check on the others.” He didn’t want to risk the possibility of her happening upon any misfortunate scenes.

  Sliding down the hill, he was almost to the wreckage when he saw the other young passenger. She must have been thrown from the coach, her body thrust against a tree, her back broken in two. He drew in a deep breath and continued to try to locate the elder lady, the blind girl’s aunt.

  He found her lying on the ground, her forehead badly gashed and bleeding, and one leg was caught under one of the topmost corners of the coach. She was still breathing, but was unconscious. He frantically tried to free her from the grasp of the stage, but it was just too heavy for him to lift alone.

  Clothes were strewn everywhere and he picked up as many as he could and gently wrapped them all around the hurt lady. He tore a petticoat to make a bandage and wound it around her head several times and secured it with a knot.

  He had to go back up to the road and get help. His heart fluttered at the sight of a new wedding dress strewn across a bush. He hoped it didn’t belong to the one who had died.

  › › ›

  Amelia held her breath for what seemed like hours to her. Then she heard someone scrambling up the hill. It was a lone person. She couldn’t breathe and she thought her heart would explode. “Aunt Corrin?”

  “Your aunt’s alive, Miss,” the driver said. “She unconscious though, which is probably a good thing right now. One leg is pinned under the coach. I can’t get her out.”

  “I must go to her.” Amelia stood and began fumbling forward, having lost her cane somewhere in the wreckage.

  “You’re not going down there, Miss!” The driver caught her firmly by one arm. “I have to go get some help and you’re coming with me.”

  “But, I can’t leave my aunt. I won’t leave her.”

  “I’m not leaving a blind woman out here in this freezing weather to fend for herself. You’re coming with me. It’s for your own protection. I wrapped your Aunt in lots of warm clothing. She’ll be fine until a doctor and some men who can move that coach can get here.”

  He clutched Amelia’s arm so tightly it hurt, and he pulled her along beside him unsympathetically. She sobbed while trying to resist him, but finally resigned herself to walk with him.

  He told her that they had passed a country home about fifteen minutes before the accident and he hoped to find help there. Approaching the house, a man came out onto the porch and looked curiously at the two.

  “Hello. May I help you?”

  “I’m the driver of the Grand Junction to Denver Stage. My name’s Hank Jorgens.” The two shook hands. “We had an accident a few miles west of here. I need someone to fetch a doctor and a few capable men to pull the coach off a woman who is pinned under it. This lady’s fine. She’s blind and I’d like to leave her here while we take care of the wreck. They can stop by and get her on their way back to Glenwood Springs.”

  Amelia was taken into the warm, country home while Mr. Jorgens remained outside for a moment, talking quietly with the other man. The men came inside the house, and the home owner told his wife he was saddling his horse and riding into town immediately to get help.

  His wife offered the two accident victims a cup of coffee. The driver told the lady what had happened and she listened intently.

  “Then we must pray for this dear girl’s aunt.” She bowed her head and began a sweet, fervent prayer for Corrin.

  Amelia felt encouraged by it, and before long, she had an inner assurance that her Aunt would be fine.

  Within forty-five minutes, the man returned, saddled another horse for Mr. Jorgens and the two rode off. Amelia wanted to go with them, but they refused her, saying they didn’t need her underfoot. They promised to pick her up on their way back to Glenwood Springs. She prayed furiously for her aunt. Why hadn’t she answered her when she called? The lady of the house tried to keep her occupied, but all she could think of was her aunt.r />
  › › ›

  Two wagons carrying men and equipment and several men riding horses pulled over to the side of the road just as the driver arrived at the scene of the accident. They all quickly slid down the embankment. The driver motioned to another man to help him with Melissa’s poor, broken body and wrapped her in a tarp the men had brought for that purpose. With difficulty, they carried her up the slippery embankment to one of the wagons.

  Meanwhile, the others hastened to help Corrin. She was groggy, but conscious and relieved to see them.

  “My niece,” she said amidst the pain in her leg. “I’ve been calling to her, but she doesn’t answer. Is she all right?”

  The men in the wagon had not been told about Amelia yet and assumed Corrin was talking about the poor unfortunate girl who had died. One of them leaned over her and quietly said, “Ma’am, I’m afraid, the young lady didn’t make it.”

  “No! No! Not my precious Amelia! Please, say it isn’t so. Please, not Amelia.” Her heart broke. If she had only allowed Paul the small wedding he wanted, her niece would be alive. It was all her fault.

  They implored her to remain still while attempting to lift the coach off of her leg. Corrin allowed herself to go rigid. Why bother with anything now? She had been stripped of the one thing that had brought life and love back into her existence. At first she took her niece grudgingly, but now she loved her as her own. And she was gone! Was God playing a cruel joke on her? Surely this isn’t the kind and gentle and forgiving God Amelia had often spoken of. She should have listened to Paul and not made the trip. Oh, poor Paul. He will be devastated. How will he be able to go on without his Angel?

  “Will you send a telegram to Glory Gulch for me?” she asked a man who was standing nearby.

  “Sure, Ma’am. What do you want it to say? Abbreviate as much as possible.” The kindly gentleman was already holding a small note pad and pencil and was ready to take her statement.

  “Send it to...” She paused. Paul shouldn’t read this alone. “Send it to Mr. Jeremiah Cowan in Glory Gulch. Stagecoach accident-stop-am hurt-stop-taken back to Glenwood Springs-stop-tell Paul...” She cried at the words she was about to say.

  “Tell Paul?”

  “Tell Paul his Angel got her wings today-stop-Please come-stop-end-Corrin.” She then slipped back into unconsciousness.

  The reporter had pretty well got as much of the story as he was going to, so he made sure the men didn’t need his help and hopped upon his horse to get the story to print and to deliver the sad telegraph he had been solicited to send. He was the first reporter to cover the story, and therefore, was sure to get a handsome bonus for this.

  The crew pried Corrin loose using a lot of rope and horses. Once free from the coach, a doctor examined her. Even though her leg was badly damaged, he was sure she wouldn’t lose it. He was more concerned about her head wound. He put a crude splint on her leg, and they quickly got her up the hill and into one of the wagons just as the driver and the other man who had taken care of Miss Perser were heading back down.

  Mr. Jorgens remembered to tell them that they had to stop and pick up a third passenger whom he had deposited at the house up the road.

  The entire rescue had occurred in about a half hour. The gross miscommunication was not discovered until one of the wagons stopped for Amelia fifteen minutes later. She immediately asked about her aunt, and the men quickly shot side glances at each other. They told her that her aunt would be fine and that she was in the other wagon. They drove in silence for awhile before one of them told her what had happened.

  › › ›

  “Aunt Corrin thinks I’m dead? I can’t believe this happened!” But Amelia was even more incredulous when she heard about how the reporter had probably already sent the message to Glory Gulch. They quickly assured her another one would be sent immediately, telling of the error and that she was all right. And Amelia assured them that someone was going to answer for this terrible mix up.

  Amelia’s heart ached for Paul, unable to fathom his grief upon reading of her death. She had never been so angry and so heartbroken at the same time.

  Upon their arrival in Glenwood Springs, Amelia insisted on accompanying the men to the telegraph office and composed the message herself.

  “Paul-first message was grave error-stop-am alive and well and anxious to marry you-stop-will be home when Aunt Corrin well enough to travel-stop-will see you in a couple days-stop-end-love, Amelia.”

  She was then taken to the clinic where Corrin was receiving the best possible care. The Doctor told her that Corrin had a concussion and a deep contusion in her forehead that needed watching. Her leg was broken in two places and badly bruised and gashed, but he was hopeful that it would heal without complications. Other than a few other assorted bruises and lesions, that was the extent of her injuries. Amelia breathed a prayer of thanks and was allowed to see her aunt within an hour after her arrival.

  › › ›

  Corrin was awake when Amelia entered the room. She put her hand to her mouth and choked back her heart in disbelief. When the nurse lead her niece to her sickbed, she threw her arms around her and held her tightly, allowing the grief she had been feeling for several hours to wash away with her sweet niece’s presence. And they both cried.

  “I’m all right, Aunt Corrin and I’m so sorry you thought I was dead. I’m just so angry at them for doing this to you.”

  “Dear God, thank you for my daughter’s safety.” Corrin was finally able to find her voice. Then she began to laugh, mostly in alleviation of the deep, terrible grief she had suffered.

  “Look at us, Sweetie. I think we’ve gotten all mixed up. I’m the one praying to God and you’re the one who’s angry.”

  “I suppose we have more of an influence on each other than we thought.” Amelia smiled and stroked her aunt’s hair.

  But Corrin meant it. She knew she had to be grateful to someone for saving Amelia today. Maybe it really was God.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jeremiah Cowan was deep in the woods, supervising the carefully planned strategy of his logging operation when Mr. Conner came riding frantically up the mountain on horseback.

  “John, what brings you up here today?”

  Without speaking, the man dismounted and handed a small envelope to Jeremiah. He didn’t like the disquieted expression on the merchant’s face and reluctantly took the paper from him and read the terrible words. His breathing became difficult and heavy, his mouth began to quiver and his whole body was trembling. He looked up at a tall, nearby tree, closed his eyes and allowed tears to silently trail down his cheeks for a moment. Regaining his composure, wiping his eyes with the back of his glove, he thanked the merchant and sought out his brother to tell him why he was leaving.

  Jeremiah saddled his horse through blurred eyes and headed for the Glory Gulch Sawmill, but changed his mind and went to the stable first to saddle up Colorado and rent himself a fresh horse. Then he headed for the mill.

  A half hour later, he took a deep breath and walked into Paul’s office.

  Paul glanced up at him, and then went back to the paperwork he was furiously attempting to complete.

  “Make it quick, Cowan. I have a stage to meet.” Paul focused on his work and still didn’t look at him.

  When Jeremiah remained silent and motionless from his position just inside the door, Paul finally looked up at him. Jeremiah’s face was lurid. He was trembling and had definitely been crying.

  “What is it?” Paul got up from his desk and went over to him.

  Jeremiah just stood there, staring at him.

  “Well, out with it, man! You’re going to make me late for the stage. It might be pulling up right now and Amelia will be put out with me for not meeting her.”

  “There isn’t going to be a stage today,” Jeremiah said softly.

  “What are you talking about? Have you been drinking? You don’t look so well. Here, sit down in my chair and when I get back we’ll talk.” Paul reache
d for his coat and pulled it over his broad shoulders. Jeremiah grabbed Paul firmly and held up the telegraph message in front of him.

  “Paul. She isn’t coming.”

  › › ›

  Paul stared at Jeremiah, not comprehending what he was saying. He took the message from his hand and read it. Tell Paul his Angel got her wings today. He read it over and over. He looked up at Jeremiah, and then walked over to the window to reread the note, as if the words would say something different from that vantage point.

  The impact of the message finally penetrated him, and the sudden pain he felt in his heart was greater than any gunshot wound. His whole body shook, his breathing became labored. He turned around with eyes clouded and sank to the floor, pulling his knees up, resting his elbows on them. He ran his trembling hands through his hair.

  “No! Not my Angel . . . Not her! Oh, God! My sweet Angel . . . Amelia!”

  When Jeremiah sat beside him on the floor and put his arm around him, Paul fell against his friend’s chest, clutching his buckskin jacket desperately as if to let go would plummet him into a deep, bottomless pit. His sobs were loud, mournful and terrible, piercing through the hearts of those within earshot.

  A couple mill workers came through the back door to see what was wrong and caught the two men on the floor. “Miss Jackson?”

  Jeremiah nodded and the workers left them alone.

  After a few minutes Jeremiah lifted Paul’s head and looked him in the eyes. “We have to go. Corrin needs us. I have our horses ready outside.”

  “I have to tell Alister.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  They rode to Paul’s house and walked in the front door. Mr. Jackson had been reading a book in the parlor when he looked up and saw the grief registering on their faces. They stood there in the thick silence for a moment, and as Paul groped for the words that his heart wouldn’t allow him to speak, he began to cry again.

  “Has something happened to my daughter?”

  Paul turned to leave, his grief too great to bear. Jeremiah caught him on the shoulder and stopped him in the doorway, his back to the room.