His Protective Wings

by Sophie Dawson

  CONTENTS

  His Protective Wings

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epiogue

  Character List Wings

  Character List His Protective Wings

  A Note From Sophie

  His Protective Wings

  Ladies of Sanctuary House #3

  Sophie Dawson

  ©2018 Sophie Dawson

  Cover Image © Fury Cover Designs

  ISBN: 978-1-63376-038-7

  Kindle Edition

  Dedication

  Carolyn Leggo has been my editor for many books now. She is dedicated, efficient, knows her grammar and where I need to put commas. She has become a friend as well as my editor. I dedicate this book to her.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Most of the places within the story are fictitious, but some are real. You will most likely recognize those which are. Those you don't are made up by me. The people, unless you recognize the name of a real historical person, are not real. They, too, have been created by me or by my friend and author George McVey. This is true of Nugget Nate and Penny Ryder, who may or may not show up in this book. Even if real historical people are mentioned, their lives may or may not adhere strictly to documented historical reference. In other words, what they do or say has little bearing in fact and they probably didn't do or say it. This is a fictional story after all.

  All Scripture is quoted from the World English Bible.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Stones Creek, Colorado

  November 1868

  Ruth Naylor knew she was being watched. She could feel it. She had been aware of it for several weeks. The sensation sent chills up her spine. As much as she told herself it was nonsense to think some man was watching her, Ruth couldn’t shake the feeling. With several of the Ladies who lived at Sanctuary House marrying and moving out, taking their children with them, her childcare duties were reduced. That meant she had to find a different source of income. That meant dealing with and going to meet with men.

  Ruth stood on the porch of Sanctuary House and looked across the street at the carpenter shop. Arty Massot, the growly carpenter who built most of the buildings in Stones Creek, had approached her last Sunday after worship service and said he’d heard she was looking for cleaning jobs. It was true, she was. The thought of going into a man’s living quarters to clean tied her stomach in knots. It also seemed to have nailed her boots to the floorboards of the porch. But she needed the job.

  Ruth pried her feet from where they seemed to be fastened and descended the steps. With determination, she walked across the street, to the door of the carpentry shop. Should she knock, or go right in? It was a place of business after all. Lifting her trembling hand, Ruth forced herself to turn the knob and open the door.

  The smell of sawdust was thick in Ruth’s nostrils. Every surface including the floor had a covering of the stuff. There were partially completed projects around the room with plenty of space to work around each one. Massot was sanding the top of a table, his back toward her.

  Ruth studied the piece he was working on. It was unusual. Rather than a rectangle, square or circle, the table’s edges were irregular. She realized the top was made from a cross section cut from the trunk of a huge tree. The concentric circles of the growth rings created a beautiful design on its surface. To have dried the wood in such a way that it didn’t split from the edge to the center spoke of the skill and knowledge of the carpenter polishing the table with such care.

  Several other pieces of furniture were unusual, also. There were two small end-tables made in a similar fashion as the large one with a cross section cut as the top. The legs were made of wood bent in ‘U’-shapes. Two partially assembled chairs were being built in the same manner; the frame made from trunks or branches of trees.

  Massot turned around and jerked, startled to see Ruth standing just inside the door. “Oh, Miss Naylor, forgive me. I didn’t realize you had come in. I get lost in my work.” His low raspy voice sent shivers down Ruth’s spine, doing strange things to her middle.

  “I’m sorry. Should I have knocked?” Ruth twisted her fingers together.

  Massot stepped forward. “No, of course not. This is a place of business. Anyone can come right in during business hours.”

  Ruth nodded. “I— um, you— um, mentioned you were looking for someone to clean your living quarters.” She glanced around the messy workspace. It could use a good cleaning too, though she would never say so.

  He must have noticed her perusal. “I know. This place is filthy, also. I’ve been very busy building houses and furniture. There hasn’t been time to shovel it out.” He gave a slight kick to the thick layer of sawdust trampled on the floor.

  Ruth didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

  “Come, I’ll show you what I’d like you to clean.” He moved to the staircase along the back wall. She was surprised, since there was an exterior one on the side of the building, also. Not many had both.

  Following him up the steps, Ruth found both sets shared the same landing. Massot opened the door and entered his living area. He cleared his throat. “As you can see, I’m in desperate need of help.”

  That was an understatement. The room they entered was a parlor of sorts. Or maybe it was more accurate to say the space they entered was the parlor. It appeared the entire upstairs of the building was one large open space with a sitting area or parlor near the stairs. To the far right were stacks of lumber seemingly sorted by type of wood and sizes of boards.

  Behind the seating space was a large cookstove, cabinets, and a small table with two chairs. Further on, along the front of the building was a bed, dresser, and washstand. The only completely walled section was directly behind the stove. Stud walls divided the other areas. It was as if he’d stopped working on the apartment before doing the lath and plaster to complete the walls.

  Plus, the place was a mess. Sawdust was tracked everywhere. It also covered most surfaces. Brown paper, articles of clothing, books, newspapers, tools, rolls of paper she thought might be blueprints were scattered all over. The windows were covered with sawdust and grime, as were the exterior walls.

  The room was surprisingly warm for such a large open space. Ruth wondered how that could be but didn’t ask. Massot had told her it was a disaster and he didn’t know where to start. Ruth barely did herself.

  “Miss Naylor, as you can see, I’m in desperate need of someone to make order out of this chaos and to keep it up. I’m sick of living in such a mess but don’t have the time, knowledge, or inclination to do the work it will take to do so. I’m willing to pay well for you to do the initial cleaning and then pay a fair wage for your continued services.” The amount he offered wiped away the doubts she had of working in the man’s home. Or, at least she was willing to put them aside until he broke what little trust she had in any man.

  “Yes, this place could stand for a strong wind to blow through to get most of the evidence of your job sent out the window. Since it’s the end of November, that’s not possible. I don’t think opening the windows is such a good idea in this cold weather.”

  “Then, you’ll take the project on?” Massot’s hopeful tone almost brought a smile to Ruth’s lips.

  “Where will you be while I clean?” she asked.

  “Not u
p here. I’ll either be working downstairs or on a house here in town. With winter coming, I’ll be here more often than in the warmer weather. I won’t come up when you are here, so long as you let me know when you arrive. I’d appreciate you telling me when you finish, also.”

  “Since you’ll pay me when I leave, I most certainly will tell you when I leave, as well as when I come.”

  Massot grinned at her. “Thank you. Do you want to start today?”

  “I’ll need to go back to the house and change into my work clothes.”

  “Thank you, Miss Naylor. You are a Godsend. I was about ready to chuck everything out a window and start over.”

  Ruth descended the exterior staircase, leaving Massot to go down the interior back to his shop. She’d heard that he was grumpy and growly from others living in and around Stones Creek, but she’d not seen that side of him. Anytime he spoke with her, Massot had been unfailingly polite. Now, she just needed to conquer her unease at being in the building while he was the only other person on the premises.

  Ruth walked across to Sanctuary House willing her stomach to unclench. Men, especially the attentions of men, made Ruth extremely nervous. Twelve years ago, a prominent businessman had stalked Ruth for months. Being only seventeen and innocent, she hadn’t been aware of it. One day, saying he had gotten in a special order he thought she might like, the man trapped her in the back room of his store. What occurred there, Ruth didn’t want to think about. When she told her parents what had happened to her, they hadn’t believed her. The rape left Ruth with child. She’d been kicked out of her family as a soiled woman and a liar.

  Ruth had walked to the next town carrying what little she could pack in a carpet bag and the few dollars she’d earned from selling eggs. Hoping to find some kind of work, Ruth had found something better.

  A tall mountain man, dressed in dirty buckskins and his well-dressed, dignified wife seemed to have been waiting for her. As Ruth walked up Main Street, the man strode up to her and said, “I’m a believin’ you’s the gal we’s a been waitin’ fer, my Penny ‘an me. I done had me a Callin’ ‘bout a young woman whose been dealt with mighty poorly. Since I don’t rightly knowst why any lady as young as yer be should be a wanderin’ inta town with only a carpet bag an’ a sorrowful face, you be the one, I’s sure. Penny, m’love. I done found her. Reckon we kin be a headin’ ta Sanctuary Place now.”

  Ruth had just stared at him. How could he know she’d been unjustly accused and found guilty when she was the victim of a heinous act? She’d backed away, slowly. She’d heard about men who tried to lure women by promising them aid. Instead, they often ended up in brothels selling themselves, receiving only pennies while the brothel owner kept the majority of the fee charged.

  It had taken Penny Ryder, beloved wife of the famous Nugget Nate Ryder, to convince Ruth the offer of help was genuine. After buying her a meal in the local café, the journey across Wisconsin had begun. They ended up in Iowa at the mission for women called Sanctuary Place that was sponsored by the couple. It was where Ruth’s daughter, Kathryn, was born eleven years ago.

  In July, eight Ladies had arrived in Stones Creek, Colorado. They’d come to Nugget Nate’s new Sanctuary House to begin new lives and possibly find husbands in the women-starved West. Ruth didn’t necessarily want a husband, but the opportunity for a new start for herself and her daughter lured her to join the Ladies moving to Colorado.

  The goal was for them to find husbands but each woman had to find jobs to support themselves in the meantime. Ruth had been tending the children of the other Ladies living in Sanctuary House while they worked. With several now married and the older children in school, the number she cared for during the day had dwindled. Ruth now needed additional work to supplement her income.

  Ruth had been offered the job of cleaning the general store owned by Ben Cutler when he and his family moved into the house Massot was building for them. It would be finished shortly and the move would take place before Christmas. Sara, Ben’s wife, had asked Ruth to begin cleaning now since she was in an interesting condition and not feeling well much of the time.

  The cleaning jobs would have to be done after the Ladies whose children Ruth watched came home from their jobs. That meant she would be doing the cleaning on Saturdays or in the evenings. It wasn’t ideal as Ruth didn’t like the thought of being in the buildings alone at night. She wasn’t pleased with the prospect of walking back to the House in the dark either. At the moment, it couldn’t be helped. Massot wanting her to work on Saturdays eased those concerns, but having to be alone with him in the building brought others to mind.

  ~~~~~

  She’s a shy little thing. Doesn’t talk much either, Massot thought as he went back to polishing the table. He chuckled to himself. It wasn’t as if he was very talkative either. He rubbed his throat. Too much talking made it hurt. The bullet that winged his throat during the war had left him with a gravelly voice and limited his desire to talk. He knew people thought he was a taciturn old goat, and maybe that was partly true, but his throat just kept him from making small talk.

  Arty Massot had come to Stones Creek when it was first settled. He’d built most of the buildings in the town. Owned a few too. That was seventeen years ago, when he was just twenty-one. Part of the Code of the West was not to ask anyone why they came west and Massot honored that and appreciated that others did too. His stint in the Union army was the only time he’d left Stones Creek for more than a few days at a time when he traveled to Denver to get carpentry supplies.

  Miss Naylor was also pretty. She was petite and slender. She’d fit him well if he were to hold her against him since he wasn’t overly tall. Where did that thought come from? She wouldn’t be interested in him. He was just a carpenter and wasn’t looking for a wife.

  He knew she had a daughter. What was her name? Kathryn, he thought. She was one of the older children who had come to Sanctuary House with their mothers last July.

  Eight women had moved into the large house Massot had helped build for Nugget Nate Ryder. They’d come from Sanctuary Place Mission for Women, hoping to start new lives and possibly find husbands. Nugget Nate had set up a council of four respected men in town to approve any man who wanted to court the Ladies. He didn’t want the Ladies to end up married to men who might abuse them in some way.

  Massot ran a hand across the table top. Soon, he’d be able to varnish it. He picked up the block of wood he’d fastened sandpaper onto and checked the paper. He’d have to change it soon.

  Hearing the shop door open, Massot turned around. Miss Naylor entered carrying a broom. She’d changed her gown. This one was an ugly brown only fit for the job she was going to be doing. She had a black wool shawl around her shoulders, hugging it to herself with one hand.

  “Um, do you have a bucket I can put trash and sweepings in?” she asked, biting her bottom lip.

  Massot chuckled. “Ma’am, you’ll need more than a bucket. Let me get you a barrel. You fill it up and I’ll dispose of what you collect.”

  “Thank you.” She broke eye contact and hurried to the stairs and, picking up her skirts, she climbed them as Massot watched. She paused at the landing and looked down at him. It was dim so he couldn’t see clearly, but he thought her eyes widened with worry before she opened the door and entered his apartment.

  She’s a scared little thing, too.

  Massot got his scrap barrel and took it outside to dump on his burn pile behind the building. No sense taking the half-filled thing upstairs. Lifting it onto his shoulder, he climbed the stairs and entered the apartment. Miss Naylor jumped a bit when he opened the door.

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” she said, her hand fluttering nervously.

  “I’ll just put it here and leave you to your work. If you get it filled before you leave, let me know and I’ll empty it for you.” Massot set it down at the end of the settee where she’d already swept. Several piles of sweepings were scattered around the seating area.

  “Th…thank y
ou.” She had stepped back when he moved forward into the room.

  “I’ll head back down to the shop. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “I…I will. Thank you.”

  Massot shook his head as he descended the stairs. Miss Naylor certainly was nervous around him. Maybe she was just scared of men in general. Thinking about the times he’d noticed her at church or town events, he realized she seldom spoke to men or even stood near one. The fact that she was Miss Naylor and had a daughter meant she’d been with a man pretty intimately at least once. Maybe that was why she was so nervous around men.

  The thought sickened Massot. He didn’t know her story and would never ask. He respected the privacy of the Ladies just as the Code of the West dictated. Besides, it was none of his business anyway.

  Massot knew some of the town’s folk didn’t approve of the Ladies. They considered them beneath themselves. Massot thought it was the other way around. The Ladies were devout in their faith and were raising their children in the Lord. Sure, the boys, especially, were prone to mischief but it was never destructive or mean. He could think of some of the children in town who were, and they were from those ‘fine, upstanding’ citizens who looked down their noses at the Ladies and their offspring.

  Looking over his shop from the bottom step, he decided it might be time to clean it up a bit. Sure, he could sweep up, but Miss Naylor needed the work. Besides, he wondered if she would be able to do the work with him in the same room. Not that he wanted to scare her. He grinned. But she was a pretty thing. Maybe they could get to know one another a little. Not that he was interested in courting her. No, she might be looking for a husband, and Massot was sure he’d never be someone she would be interested in. He was just a carpenter, not a doctor, lawyer, or banker who a woman would want as a husband.