Redeeming Love (42 page)

“Your share of what we earned today.”

She glanced up in surprise. “But the pans were yours.”

“And they’d still be hanging on my wagon if you hadn’t spoken up. You need a grubstake. Now you’ve got one.” He took an extra blanket and slept under the wagon.

They headed for Sacramento at first light. They arrived at noon the second day. There was a race going on, and Sam just managed to get his wagon to one side as three riders thundered by. The street filled in after them with wagons and men. Angel could see buildings going up everywhere. The air rained with the sound of hammers and lumber wagons rolling.

“First there was the fire,” Sam said as he drew the wagon into the traffic.

“Then the flood. Lost most of the buildings down by the river.” He snapped the reins. “Have you got family here?” he asked her.

“Friends,” Angel prevaricated, pretending interest in the bustling activity.

“Can I take you anywhere in particular?” Sam asked, clearly worrying about her.

“No. Anywhere is fine. I’ll find my own way. Sam, don’t worry about me.

I can take care of myself.”

Sam pulled up before a big hardware store. “This is the end of the line for me.” He helped her down and shook her hand. “I’m grateful for your company, missy, and for your help at that last camp. I think my traveling days are over. Time I stood behind a counter. Maybe I’ll set up shop and find myself some pretty little sales ladies.”

Angel wished him luck and made a quick departure. She walked along the boardwalk, stepping around men who lifted their hats to her. She didn’t look at anyone, her mind busy trying to figure out what she would do now that she was in Sacramento. She passed a saloon, and the riotous music sent 294

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her mind reeling back to the Silver Dollar and the Palace. It seemed a lifetime ago, but the reminder brought it too close for comfort.

She ended up near the river. The irony of it made her smile bitterly.

Hadn’t Mama ended up on the docks? And here she was gravitating toward the pier with the ships coming in. She watched people coming down the plank and crates being unloaded.

Walking on, she saw buildings going up all along the street, replacing the ones that had been swept away in the flood. A couple of buildings were still in business. One was a big saloon. Angel knew if she walked through those swinging doors, she would be working in one of those upstairs rooms within the hour.

Aimlessly, she continued down the street. What was she going to do?

The gold Sam Teal had given her was enough to last a week or two. But what about after that? She needed to find a way to make a living for herself, and the thought of going back to prostitution was unbearable.

I can’t do it anymore. Not after Michael.

Michael’s just a man like any other.

No. Nothing like the rest.

A tall man with dark hair came out of a store and her heart lurched. It wasn’t Michael but another man with his coloring and build. He was laughing with several other men as they crossed the street.

She had to stop thinking about Michael. The first thing she had to do was find a place to stay, but everything she passed looked too rough or too expensive. Her mind kept betraying her and turning back to Michael. What was he doing right now? Was he looking for her, or had he given up and gone back to work in his field? She passed another brothel.

Go on in, Angel. They’ll take care of you. You’ll have a room of your
own and food.

Her palms perspired. It was late afternoon and getting cold. How long had she been wandering? She moved back as a man came out. He looked at her in surprise. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat. He was swaying on his feet. “You shouldn’t be standing outside a place like this.”

“My husband’s inside,” she said, grasping at the first thing she could think of to get rid of him.

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“Your husband?” He looked her over and shook his head. “What’s he doing inside with someone like you at home? What’s his name?”

“His name? Oh. It’s Charles.” As soon as the man went back through the swinging doors, shouting up the stairs for the nonexistent Charles, she hurried on, crossing the street and heading up another. Men stared as she raced past them. She spotted a freshly painted sign:
Hochschild’s General Mercantile,
and headed straight for it like a beacon in the darkness.

A heavyset elderly woman came out with a broom and swept the steps and boardwalk. Unsmiling, she worked diligently, swishing dirt onto the street and rapping the broom against the boards. She glanced up when Angel stepped onto the boardwalk. “Men,” she muttered with a faint smile.

“Can’t even use the boot scraper before tracking their mud into the store.”

Her gaze dropped to the tied bundle in Angel’s hand. Angel gave a self-conscious nod and went inside. She looked for Joseph, but he was no where to be seen.

“Can I help you find something?” the woman asked, standing just inside the door, broom held like a rifle at rest.

“Carpetbags,” Angel said. “A small one.”

“Right over here,” the woman said and led her to a shelf against the wall.

“This one’s nice.” She took one and handed it to Angel. Another woman, dark-haired and robust, came out from behind the back curtain and set a box down on a counter. She wiped perspiration from her forehead.

“Joseph,” she called back, “would you bring out that crate for me, please? I can’t lift it.”

Angel wished she hadn’t come here. Why hadn’t she given it a thought before plunging in? Joseph was fond of Michael. What would he say about her running off the way she had? She couldn’t expect any help from him.

And who were these women with him? Hadn’t he said something about his mother coming and bringing him a wife?

“Do you like it?” the woman asked her.

“What?” Angel stammered. She had to get out of here.

“The carpetbag,” the woman said, curious now.

“I’ve changed my mind.” She handed it back. Joseph came through the curtain with the crate and saw her immediately. His face split with a wide 296

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smile, and she saw his quick glance around the store for Michael. Angel turned quickly and started for the door, bumping into the elderly woman.

“Excuse me,” she stammered, trying to steady her as she brushed past.

“Angel! Where you going? Wait!”

Angel didn’t. Joseph slammed down the crate, swung over the counter, and caught up with her. “Hold up,” he said, his hand clamping on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she said, her face hot. “I just came in to look at a carpetbag.”

“So look to your heart’s content. Where’s Michael?”

She gulped. “Home.”

Joseph frowned. “What’s happened?”

She tilted her chin. “Nothing’s happened.”

His mother came to stand with them, the broom still in her hand. “Who is this young woman, Joseph?” She was studying Angel with new and disapproving interest.

“The wife of a friend of mine,” he said without looking away from Angel.

She wished he would stop probing her with his shrewd eyes. His hand gripped her elbow. “Come over here and sit down and tell me what this is all about.” He dispensed with introductions quickly. “My wife, Meribah, and my mother, Rebekkah.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Meribah asked, and Joseph said yes she would. He waved his mother off, and she went back to her sweeping, watching them surreptitiously.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Angel said flatly.

“Does Michael know where you are?”

“Of course he does,” she lied.

“So,” he said, a multitude of statements in that one simple word. He sat down on a barrel, still not letting go of her arm. “You ran out on him, didn’t you?”

She pulled her arm free and drew herself up in self-defense. “It wasn’t working out.”

“No?” He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “That’s not too unexpected, I guess, but it’s a shame.”

Her defiance flagged. “Got any ideas what a reformed soiled dove can do 297

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for a living in this town?” she asked flippantly and smiled her old, practiced smile. When he frowned, she figured he was probably worrying that she would ask him to give her some money. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “A bad joke.” She stood. “I’d better be going.”

He put his hand on her arm again. “Sit down. Meribah’s on her way with the tray.” His wife served her a cup of coffee. Angel’s hands were shaking as she took it. She tried to steady herself, feeling Joseph’s perusal. Meribah offered her some cake. Angel declined. Joseph’s mother had finished her sweeping and joined them. Angel wished she hadn’t set foot in the place.

With the censure of three pairs of eyes, she felt herself withering inside.

They talked about the flood, and rebuilding and stocking the store. Though they didn’t ask personal questions, she could feel their inquiring looks.

A customer came in, and Meribah went to serve him. Another came in, and Rebekkah, seeing Joseph had no intention of taking care of him, excused herself.

“Have you a room?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Angel said. She raised her chin. “But it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“You’re going to stay here,” he said. She looked past exhaustion.

“What are your wife and mother going to say to that?” she asked sardonically, unaware of the little-girl-lost look in her eyes.

“They’d wonder more if I sent you off with no place to go. We can’t offer you grand accommodations, but we can give you a clean cot and blankets and kosher food. What do you say?”

She chewed on her lip and looked at the two women.

He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “They won’t mind.” And even if they did, he intended to make sure they kept their reservations to themselves. It was late enough that he could close the store a little earlier than usual.

Angel sat with them at the upstairs dining-room table. She pushed her food around on her plate, pretending to eat but having no appetite. Meribah and Rebekkah didn’t ask her any probing questions, but she could feel their deep curiosity. When Meribah cleared the table, Angel rose and helped.

Joseph and his mother began talking in low agitated tones as soon as she was through the door. They stopped when she came back in for the rest of 298

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the dishes. When she stacked them, she paused.

“I don’t have to stay longer than tonight,” she said. “If it’s going to cause trouble between you, I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“You’ll stay as long as Joseph says you will,” Rebekkah said in a tone that invited no argument. “He’s going to put your cot next to the wood stove downstairs. You’ll be warm there.”

Joseph set up her cot. He came back upstairs and told Meribah he was going out for a while. He would be back in a few hours. Surprised, Meribah didn’t question him. “He never goes out at night,” she said as he closed the door behind him. She took up some embroidery.

“Business,” Rebekkah said, knitting rapidly.

Angel sat with the two women in the parlor. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantel and Rebekkah’s clacking needles.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed,” Angel said at last. Rebekkah nodded approval. Angel closed the door behind her and paused. The two women began talking in earnest. Probably about her. She went downstairs and lay on the cot in the darkness. She slept fitfully, dreaming of Duke.

Rebekkah came down at dawn. Angel awakened and dressed quickly.

“You didn’t sleep well, did you?” Rebekkah said as she watched her gather her things.

“I was fine. Thank you for letting me stay last night.” She folded the blankets away and closed up the cot, tucking it into a narrow space between shelves. She could feel Rebekkah’s dark eyes watching her every move.

“Joseph said you’re looking for work,” Rebekkah said. “We’ve plenty for you to do around here.”

Angel straightened in surprise and faced her. “You’re asking me to work for
you?”

Rebekkah drew herself up. “Unless you have something better in mind.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” Angel said quickly. “What would you like me to do?”

Rebekkah briskly gave her a list.

Angel washed windows and swept out the store. She stacked canned goods and folded red flannel shirts. She hung tack on the walls. When men approached her, Meribah or Rebekkah intercepted them, answering their questions and showing them merchandise. Rebekkah asked her to carry 299

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boxes in from the storeroom and stock the shelves behind the counters.

Angel worked hard, stopping for the noon meal and then returning to her labor until Joseph closed and locked the door after dusk.

Rebekkah handed her an envelope over dinner. “Your wages,” she said simply, and Angel blinked, feeling her throat close up. She looked at Joseph and Meribah, then back at Rebekkah. Rebekkah nodded at her son. “She’s a good worker.” Angel hung her head, unable to speak. Rebekkah set a dish of potatoes beside her. “Eat. You need some meat on your bones.”