Redeeming Love (41 page)

She went back inside and sat down because she was too weak to stand.

She destroyed his dreams, and he made her wind chimes.

When he came in, she served him supper.
I love you, Michael Hosea. I love
you so much I’m dying of it.
The breeze stirred the wind chimes, filling the cabin with pleasant ringing. She managed a frail thank-you. He didn’t seem 284

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to expect more. When he finished eating, she ladled hot water from the big iron pot over the fire to wash dishes.

Michael took her wrist and turned her toward him. “Leave the dishes.”

When he began to loosen her hair, she could scarcely breathe.

She was trembling and embarrassed. Where was her calm, her control?

He was shattering it with tenderness.

Combing his fingers into her hair, he tilted her head back. He saw the fear in her eyes. “I promise to love and cherish you, to honor and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, in the bad that may darken our days, in the good that may light our way. Tirzah, beloved, I promise to be true to you in all things until I die. And even beyond that, God willing.”

She stood staring at him, shaken to the core. “And what have I to promise you?”

His eyes lit with gentle humor. “To obey?” He lowered his mouth to hers.

When he kissed her, Angel was lost in a wilderness of new sensations. It had never felt like this, warm and wonderful, exciting and right. None of the old rules applied. She forgot everything she had ever learned from other masters. She was dry ground soaking in a spring rain, a flower bud opening to the sun. Michael knew and gently coaxed her with tender words flowing over her like the sweet balm of Gilead healing her wounds.

And she flew, Michael with her, into the heavens.

Earthbound once more, Michael smiled. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” She touched her cheek and found a single tear.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, kissing her. “It’s a good sign.”

But when Michael awakened in the morning, Angel was gone.

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Humility

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Twenty-two

Because a thing seems difficult for you,
do not think it impossible.

M A R C U S

A U R E L I U S

The jangle of pots and pans on the side of Sam Teal’s wagon reminded Angel of the wind chimes Michael had hung for her. Closing her eyes, she could see Michael’s face.
Beloved. Oh, beloved.
She couldn’t let herself think of him.

She had to forget. Better to think of what love had brought Mama and keep her head straight.

The old peddler beside her hadn’t stopped talking since he picked her up on the road at dawn. She was thankful for the barrage. He hadn’t sold any of his stock on this trip to the mountains. His food supplies were low, and his rheumatism was paining him something fierce. Best thing that had happened to Sam Teal in the last month was seeing a pretty little thing like her sitting on a stump by the road. Sam was clean and trimmed but worn out and bent over. Most of his hair was gone. As were his prospects. But he had kindly eyes beneath gray beetled brows. As long as she listened, she didn’t have to think.

“Who you running from, missy?”

She pushed a loose strand of blonde hair back from her face and forced a noncommittal smile. “What makes you think I’m running from someone?”

“The way you keep looking back over your shoulder. You looked mighty worried back there when I found you. I figured you must be running away from your husband.”

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“How did you know I was married?”

“You’re wearing a wedding ring.”

She covered her hand quickly and blushed. She had forgotten to take the ring off. She turned it on her finger and wondered how she was going to get it back to Michael.

“Did he mistreat you?”

Michael wouldn’t think of it. “No,” she said dully.

He gave her a curious look. “Must’ve done something to make you run away.”

She looked away. What could she say?
“He made me fall in love with him?”

If she told this old man that Michael had never done anything but treat her with the greatest kindness and consideration, he would start asking questions. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mr. Teal.” She twisted the ring ’round and ’round her finger and wanted to weep.

“Sam. Call me Sam, missy.”

“My name’s Angel.”

“Just take the ring off and throw it away if it’ll make you feel better,” he said.

She would never do that. The ring had belonged to Michael’s mother. “I can’t get it off,” she lied. She would have to find a way to send it back to him.

“Were you on your way to Sacramento?”

Sacramento was as good a place as any to start over. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m on my way there. I’ll be stopping off at a few more mining camps along the way and see if I can’t sell some stock.” He urged the tired horse on. “You look wore out, missy. Why don’t you climb back in my wagon and sleep? Bed folds down from the side,” he told her. “Just pull that latch.”

She was exhausted and thanked him for the offer. She lowered the bed down and curled up on it, but sleep eluded her. The wagon rolled and bounced along, and her mind spun. She kept thinking about Michael. He wouldn’t understand why she left him, and he would be angry. She was so full of confusion. Something inside her tugged at her to go back and talk to Michael, to tell him what she was feeling. She knew that in that lay mad-290

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ness. Hadn’t Mama poured out her emotions on Alex Stafford? Hadn’t she professed her love over and over again? All love had done was destroy her pride and shame her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Being with Michael had made her feel replete, not empty. She had felt a rightness in Michael’s arms, a sense that this was exactly where she belonged.

Your mother felt the same way about Alex Stafford, and look how
that turned out.

She moaned softly and curled tighter.

If Sam Teal hadn’t come by when he did, she might have weakened and gone back. And she would have clung to Michael the same way Mama clung to her father. Sooner or later Michael would tire of her the same way Alex Stafford tired of Mama.

She thought distance would ease the pain, but it kept getting worse. Her mind and body, her very essence, longed for him.

Why did I ever meet him? Why did he ever come to Pair-a-Dice? Why did he
have to be standing on the street when I walked by that day? Why did he come
back to the brothel after I drove him away?

She could see his eyes, full of passion and tenderness.
“I love you,”
he’d said.
“When are you going to understand I’m committed to you?”

“He said he loved me,”
Mama had wept.
“He said he’d love me forever.”

Angel could feel the tears building and fought them down. All right. She had fallen in love with Michael and shed a tear, but she had been smart enough to flee before things got too bad. She had brought more this time than just the clothes on her back. She would put it all behind her. She would go east, west, north or south. Whatever she wanted.

“I’ll make it,” she whispered. “I’ll make it on my own.”

Doing what?
A voice mocked.

“Something. I’ll find something.”

Sure you will, Angel. Doing what you do best.

“I’ll find some other way to live. I won’t go back to that.”

Yes, you will. What else do you know? Was it really so bad? You had
food and shelter, beautiful clothes, adoration.…

The dark voice kept cadence with the steady clop of the tired horses on 291

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the dusty road. When she slept, she dreamed of Duke again. He was doing all the things he used to do. And Michael wasn’t there to stop him.

Sam Teal awakened her. He shared his grub with her and told her he would be coming into a camp soon. “I’m going to give it another try. If I don’t sell some of these wares, I’ll be busted when I get back to Sacramento.

All this gear’s on consignment. I don’t get a penny if I don’t sell something.

Maybe the Good Lord’ll be with me this time.”

He took her empty tin plate, and she watched him take it down and wash it in the creek. The Good Lord hadn’t done anything for this poor old man. No more than he’d done for her. Sam Teal gathered his things together and packed them back in the wagon. He was waiting beside it and handed her up as though she were a lady.

“You’d better stay hidden inside,” he advised. “Some of these young gents can get pretty woolly when they see a lady.” He gave her a wry, apologetic smile. “And I’m too old to fight for you.”

She touched his hand and climbed into the back.

When they arrived in the camp, she listened to Sam hawk his wares. Men hooted insults and ridiculed his horse and wagon. They made disparaging remarks about his merchandise. They made worse remarks about him. Sam was dogged. More insults were hurled, and still he kept on, swearing to the quality of what he had to offer. The men were having fun tearing this poor old man down. She could hear in Sam Teal’s voice that his last hope was dwindling. She knew how that felt. She knew how the soul could hurt.

“One pan’s all anybody needs up here,” someone called. Someone called Sam a fool. Angel frowned. Maybe he was one, but he didn’t deserve this. All he wanted was to make an honest living.

Angel drew back the curtain and came out. Her appearance silenced the men in the crowd immediately. “What’re you doing?” Sam whispered. He looked scared to death. “Go back inside, missy. These gents are
mean.”

“I know,” she said. “Let me have that pan, Sam.”

“You can’t beat them all off.”

“Let me have the pan.”

“What’re you going to do with it?”

“Sell it,” she said. She took the pan from his hand. “Sit down, Sam.”

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Nonplussed, he did as she told him. She stepped around him and held the pan up, running her hand over it as though it was an object of great worth.

“Gentlemen, Sam knows his merchandise, but he doesn’t know anything about cooking.” She smiled slightly and saw the grins coming.

Some laughed as though she were making a ribald joke. She talked about chicken and dumplings, fried salt pork and gravy, scrambled eggs and bacon. When they were fairly drooling, she quietly discussed the necessity of having a quality pan to bring about a good meal. She talked of the fine cast iron, the distribution of heat, the easy handling. Sam had said it all before, but this time the men listened raptly.

“Besides all the wonderful meals you can prepare in this pan, it has other uses. When you run out of bullets and need to protect your claim, you have a weapon.” She made a mocking swing at a man who was pushing too close.

The men laughed. She laughed, too, playing them. “So what do you say, gentlemen? Do I have a buyer?”

“Yes!” Men started pushing forward to get closer to her. They would have bought a dented tin can from her. A fight broke out in the middle. While it was going on, she leaned toward Sam and asked him what his cost was. He named a modest amount. “Oh, I think we can do much better than that,”

she said and waited for the two brawlers to be separated before she named her price. Someone complained loudly, making the others pause.

Angel smiled and shrugged, her attitude saying that she didn’t care whether they bought anything or not. She hung the pan back on the side of the wagon and sat down. “Let’s go, Sam. You were wrong about these gentlemen. They don’t know quality when they’re looking at it.”

His mouth was agape. Several men protested. She looked back at them.

“You said we’re asking too much,” she said. “Frankly, I see no sense in trying to talk you into something your own intelligence should tell you is necessary. Sam?” She handed him the reins. A miner held the horse’s harness and told her to hold on, he had a pan to buy before she took off.

Angel gave in graciously and sold every pan on the wagon.

The crowd didn’t start dispersing until Sam took the reins and drove down the road out of town. He was grinning and chuckling. “You got a talent for this, missy.”

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“Well, I’ve got something,” she said dryly. It wasn’t so much what you said as how you said it and the look in your eyes as you talked. Selling a frying pan wasn’t any different from selling herself. And she knew all about how to do that.

She cooked their evening meal while Sam Teal counted his gold. She served him and then sat down to eat. When she set her plate aside, he tossed her something. She caught it, startled. “What’s this?” she asked, holding a leather pouch.