Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (6 page)

“Great! I should have my paperwork finished around
four o’clock. I’ll come by for you around four-fifteen, if that will be
agreeable to you.”

“That will be just fine, Mr. Strupel. I’m looking
forward to it. Thank you.”

“I must be on my way now.” He took her hand and kissed
it. “Good day.”

“And a good day to you too, Mr. Strupel.”

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Paul turned and left the boardwalk. Once back on the
street, he looked over his shoulder to gaze at the captivating young lady who
had enthralled him from the first instant he saw her the previous day. What he
felt toward her was unlike any other sensation that had ever come over him. This
gaze almost caused him to walk right into a horse and rider.

“Hey, Strupel, watch where you’re going from now on!”

“Sorry, Doyle, I guess I was a little preoccupied.”

“So I see. Who is she?”

“She’s Corrin Dannon’s niece. Just arrived from
Georgia yesterday.”

“Lovely creature. Very pleasing to the eyes.”

“Doyle, when will you ever learn? There’s so much more
to women than how they look in a skirt and whether or not they can cook.”

“Maybe. Maybe. But when I find one who’ll have me, you
can be sure those two criteria will be at the top of the list.” The man’s laugh
boomed out heartily.

“Maybe, Doyle, that’s why you haven’t found one who’ll
have you yet.”

Mr. Doyle just laughed and rode on, leaving Paul to
continue his reflections of the delightful and beautiful Miss Amelia Jackson. He
wondered what she thought of him. Did she like him at all? Was he trying too
hard to cause her to like him? He realized that he had been heaping compliments
on her in a feeble attempt to tell her how he felt, that no one had ever
inspired him the way she did. This was the first time in his life that he
couldn’t rely on his handsome features to help him win a young lady’s heart. Why
couldn’t he just be himself around her? Why did she affect him so?

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Amelia stepped off the boardwalk at the edge of the
saloon, prepared to feel her way along the side of the building back to the
rear door,

“Good morning, Miss Jackson,” another familiar voice
greeted her. “It looks like this day’s shaping up to be another scorcher, don’t
you think?”

“Yes, Mr. Cowan, I certainly do agree. How are you
doing today?”

“I’m doing just fine, Miss Jackson, just fine.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but that didn’t sound very
convincing to me, Mr. Cowan. I hope you aren’t having a bad day already.”

“How perceptive of you. You really amaze me. The fact
is, Miss Jackson, I just came from dismissing one of my employees.” He paused a
moment. “Was a good employee for several years too. But he took to the bottle
after the death of his young son. Never been the same since. His drinking and
carelessness almost cost another man a hand up at the camp a couple days ago.”

“Oh, my! How sad---and unfortunate.”

“Yes, it is sad. But he refuses anybody’s help. He’s
even turned away from his wife.” Mr. Cowan paused again. “I shouldn’t have
bothered you with all of this. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Mr. Cowan. I’ve been told
that I’m a very good listener. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone about your
problems. I really don’t mind.”

“Thank you. I do find you easy to talk with. It’s like
we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“I understand what you mean. That’s how it is with my
friend Molly. We can tell each other anything without worrying about what the
other thinks.”

“Miss Jackson, would you think it forward of me if I
asked you to dinner tonight? Nothing formal, just good old home-style cooking
over at Sarah Jane’s. It’s a great place to just relax and talk. I would
appreciate bending your ear about this a little more.”

Amelia was taken aback by his offer. The men of Glory
Gulch certainly weren’t shy and didn’t waste their time. But he was such a good
friend to her aunt; it would probably be all right.

“I think that would be nice, Mr. Cowan. What time
shall I expect you?”

“I’ll come by for you about seven o’clock. Will that work
for you?”

“That will be fine.”

“Great! I need to be getting back to camp. But I’ll
see you at seven. And Miss Jackson, you have a great day.”

She heard his footfalls head away from the saloon.

“Thank you. And a good day to you too!” Amelia called
to him, but she wasn’t sure if he had heard her or not.

She finally made her way back into the saloon and was
about to enter her room as Corrin Dannon emerged from her boudoir.

“Good morning, Amelia. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Aunt Corrin. Very well, thank you.”

“Have you been up long? What did you do all morning? Oh
dear, I do hope you weren’t too bored. Were you?”

“Bored, Aunt Corrin?” Amelia laughed and as they
walked arm in arm down the hallway together, she recounted the morning’s events
as her aunt listened, chuckling now and then.

Amelia asked her if it would be all right if Mr. Cowan
take her to supper and if Mr. Strupel could show her around town.

“I feel completely fine about both, dear. They are my
oldest friends and business partners. I would trust my own child with them.”

“Good. I trust you.” There had been something niggling
at her all day. “Aunt Corrin, it appears to me that there are more men in this
town than women. Is that true?”

“Why, yes, honey. That’s true. It’s because of the
large logging operations around here. And I don’t mind saying, I like it that
way.”

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. Sometimes it was
difficult for her to figure out exactly what kind of person her aunt really
was. And what kind of place had she been thrust into?

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Paul Strupel came by for Amelia at precisely
four-fifteen, as promised. He walked with her along the streets of the town,
allowing her ample time to tally and memorize paces, feel railings, count stair
steps and recite the order in which the various shops stretched out along the
main street. He admired the efficient manner in which she learned and recounted
various facts regarding her surrounding world.

Glory Gulch was an easy town for her to get to know. The
main street twisted and wound its way through the floor of the gorge alongside
the Colorado River while the streets containing most of the houses climbed and
advanced upward along the surfaces of the huge mountains that surrounded the
peaceful ravine.

The two chatted lightheartedly as they strolled arm-in-
arm, Amelia’s cane ever stretching before them to warn her of impending
obstacles or stairs.

Mr. Strupel noticed that Miss Jackson didn’t have to
be concerned about bumping into people on this promenade, for they all stepped
compliantly to one side when they saw the two approaching them. He also mused
that the people they passed were considerably curious and some couldn’t contain
themselves as they unreservedly stared at the unlikely couple. After all, he
was a highly known and regarded figure in the community, almost forty years of
age, and was walking with a very beautiful, very young, blind lady whom they
had never seen before.

Some passers-by bid good afternoon to him. He knew
they were hoping to be introduced to Miss Jackson to satisfy their curiosity. But
he would simply return their greeting and continue on with their stroll,
devoting his full attention to his lovely, young companion.

Occasionally, he introduced her to a shop proprietor,
particularly those whose emporiums he felt she might like to frequent, the
Conner’s at the Mercantile, Miss Amy Jefferies, the dressmaker, and Johan
Stuben at the Bakery.

He was quite surprised when she began to strike up a
conversation with Beau upon reaching the Blacksmith Shop as she greeted him by
name. She even knew his dog's names and stroked their fur and talked with them
as if they were long lost friends.

Amelia told him this tour was very successful, because
she was not going to be confined to the porch. Paul considered it a triumph
because she appeared to be enjoying his company. He was much more comfortable
in this situation than in their prior meetings and felt confident she was
warming up to him.

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“What time is it, Mr. Strupel?” Amelia asked when she
noticed a hungry feeling in her stomach and remembered Mr. Cowan was expecting
to dine with her that evening.

She heard a faint click as he opened his watch. She could
envision it in her mind from her memory of her mother’s heirloom pocket watch
that once had belonged to her father. A pang of loss threatened to overtake
her. She breathed deeply to keep the tears of grief from rolling down her
cheeks.

“Why, it’s nearly six forty-five. No wonder I’m
feeling hungry. There’s a restaurant right across the street from here. Would
you care to join me for supper tonight, Miss Jackson?”

It had never occurred to Amelia that Mr. Strupel would
invite her to dinner also. She paused a moment to consider the situation.

“I’m sorry for not asking you in advance. It simply
hadn’t occurred to me that we might be out this late.” Actually, he had planned
to invite her to dinner, but it just never occurred to him that she may already
have other plans. “Is Corrin expecting you for dinner? If she is, we could do
this another time.”

“No. It’s just that I previously accepted an offer to
dinner at seven o’clock this evening with someone else. I do hope you
understand.”

“Well then, we had better be getting you back home so
that your dinner companion won’t become concerned about you.” This sudden turn
of events dismayed him, and he escorted the young lady back to the Saloon in
silent discouragement. How could she have met someone else so quickly? He
thought back to this morning. Aaron Cowan. Of course. It made sense. She was
closer to his age, but she deserves far better than a simple timber boss.

“Perhaps I could escort you to church on Sunday
morning,” he offered.

“I’d like that. Thank you. But I don’t know if my aunt
had plans—“

“She doesn’t attend church.”

Miss Jackson frowned and her face showed a certain
sadness.

“You know she has to work so late at night; she couldn’t
possibly be up in time for church.”

She nodded. “Yes, I hadn’t thought of that.”

They entered the saloon, and after a brief interlude where
Amelia informed Corrin that she was fine and would be getting herself ready for
dinner, Mr. Strupel escorted her to the bottom of the stairway.

“Thank you so much for the wonderful tour of Glory
Gulch, Mr. Strupel. I enjoyed myself thoroughly.”

“You’re welcome for the tour. I enjoyed spending the
afternoon with you. It was very relaxing and helped me to forget the worries of
the business world. I had better take my leave now and allow you time to
freshen up for your dinner engagement. Good evening, Miss Jackson.” He said and
then kissed the back of her hand.

“Good evening, Mr. Strupel.” She disappeared up the
stairs.

Paul sauntered back toward the door when he was hailed
by Jeremiah Cowan.

“Strupel, why don’t you join me in a beer?”

“You know I don’t drink any more, but a cool
Sarsaparilla would sure hit the spot.” Paul decided Cowan’s table would be a
perfect vantage point from which to spy on his competition. He waved to the
waitress who understood his gesture. “And what are you doing here this time of
day, Cowan?”

“Oh, I’m meeting a friend,” he answered. “Say, by the
way, I saw you escorting Miss Jackson through here a few minutes ago. Been
showing her around town? Getting a little friendly with her, are you?”

It had become their normal routine to jab each other,
sometimes turning it into a competition of sorts, both trying their best to
outmatch the other’s wisecracks with their own quick wit and humor. Not feeling
like bantering with him today, Paul ignored the question.

 “Why did you bring her back so soon, Strupel? Why
didn’t you invite her out to supper, too?”

“If you must know, Miss Jackson has other plans for
dinner.”

“Other plans? She’s only been here a day and a half. How
could she have other plans already? With whom?”

“She didn’t say. It’s not any of my business---nor
yours, for that matter. Besides, it really doesn’t matter to me. Like you said,
she’s new to town. She’ll be meeting lots of other people who will be inviting
her places.”

“Oh, I see. You’ve positioned yourself at my table to catch
a glimpse of who it is that will soon be escorting the lovely Miss Amelia
Jackson to dinner tonight.” Mr. Cowan sipped his beer. “And knowing you,
Strupel, it’s driving you crazy. Right?”

“Cowan, sometimes you can be so irritating.” Paul shot
to his feet. Then, realizing that his friend had got the best of him, he
withdrew to another part of the room, Cowan’s laughter taunting him with every
step he took. His high spirits borne by this pleasurable day had been broken by
the prattle of one of the most insensitive individuals he had the misfortune of
knowing.