Angel's Song

Chapter Two

"It's lovely," she replied, noting of the house the Calvin had begun to build a year ago after he and Hope had started courting. After their two-week honeymoon in Cheyenne, the couple and Maggie had moved in, and Angel was already missing them. "Things are a bit hard to get used to, though. I keep waking up in the night and thinking I'm still at the boarding-house."

Angel smiled. "Nellie misses you too. She doesn't say it, but I know she does." She couldn't hide the mischievous lilt that covered her next words. "How are you finding married life?"

"Angel!" A scarlet blush scored Hope's cheeks, going head-to-head with the fabric they were using for Mrs Webb's gown. Glancing over to the counter, where Maggie sat playing with her dolls, she leant forward and said quietly, "I have been married before, you know; the experience isn't that new."

Angel smiled again. "Calvin's a good man."

Hope nodded. After a few minutes' silence, she spoke up. "Nellie told me you've been looking for a job."

Angel's hand froze. She glanced up. "I was going to tell you," she said quietly. "I've been looking since before the wedding."

"Why? You have a job here."

"I know that," Angel replied. She looked over at Maggie, exchanging a smile with the little girl before turning back to Hope. "But I can't be a 'charity case' forever. Mrs Landry and her set won't even buy gowns from you because of me!"

"But that doesn't matter--"

"It does to me. You're my best friend, Hope, and I will always be grateful to you for giving me the courage to stand up to Jack and leave that hellhole behind for good, but people don't forget things like that, and I need a new start. Somewhere where everyone isn't whispering behind my back or ogling me. If I get a job outside of town and settle down, maybe things will change."

Angel stopped short, letting out a breath. She smoothed the fabric in her lap and then tentatively glanced up at her friend. "Am I forgiven?"

Hope smiled, although a new sheen had misted her eyes. "There's nothing to forgive, Angel, you know that. I understand." She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand and then let out a frustrated groan. "Drat it! We were supposed to pick up two new spools of thread for this dress yesterday!"

"I'll go," Angel volunteered, rising. "Heaven forfend Mrs Webb should get her evening gown a day late."

Hope's chuckle followed her out the door.

Sweetwater was a hive of life at this time of the day. A small frontier town burgeoning with pioneers old and new, it still had the comfort of small-town closeness with the excitement of a new horizon stretching out before it. Angel took her time walking over to the store, enjoying the feel of the sunshine on her face. A couple of cowboys riding by tipped their hats politely, while housewives gossiped by their front doors and tinkling piano music spilled over the batwing doors of the saloon. It felt good to be alive.

Mr Gerson's store was busy with customers, so Angel slipped through them and went to the back, looking for the thread. Her eyes were on the stalls, so she didn't notice when someone stepped in front of her until she had rammed right into them.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized hastily, lifting her eyes to look at the person--man, actually, in front of her. Lord, but he was tall - she almost had a crick in her neck from looking up at him. Blue-grey eyes over a fuzz of beard met hers for an instant and then darted away.

He nodded. "My fault. Sorry, ma'am." Touching his battered hat, he slipped past her without another word.

Angel frowned and shook her head. People were strange. She turned back to the thread, and that was when she saw it. A small square of paper lying on the ground. Curious, she bent to pick it up and opened it.

Written on the paper in a messy scrawl were nine words: Wanted, housekeeper. Contact Aidan O'Connor at Cross Bar Ranch.

Angel's brows furrowed. She glanced around to see if the person who had dropped it was still around, but with all the people swarming about in the store, she couldn't tell who it was.

Reaching the spools of thread, she selected the colour she wanted and headed back towards the counter just as Mrs Gerson reached it. "Afternoon, Angel. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Angel replied, stifling a groan. The woman could talk the hind leg off a donkey and would chatter away for hours to anyone who would listen. "Two spools of the cream thread, Mrs Gerson."

"Certainly, dearie." As the storeowner's wife began making up the bill, a movement to her left caught Angel's eye and she glanced across at the other counter, where the man who had bumped into her a moment before now stood. He laid his stuff on the counter: flour, peas, sugar, and a few shirts, trousers, and dresses - all child-sized.

"Starting a family now, are we?" Mr Gerson asked, his tone anything but friendly.

The man lifted his head. "You got a problem with that?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it that made everyone within earshot stop chattering and listen.

Mr Gerson's eyebrows twitched. "No, no. Just inquiring." He looked through the stuff. "That'll be four dollars and a quarter."

The man dug into his pocket and brought out two paper notes and some coins. "That's three dollars and fifty cents. I'll bring you the rest later." He picked up his purchases and walked out of the store, leaving a wave of whispers in his wake.

Angel watched, her curiosity aroused. As if noticing it, Mrs Gerson leaned forward on the counter. "Do you know who that was?"

Angel straighted. "No." But I'm pretty sure you're going to tell me, she added mentally.

The grey-haired woman smirked. "That was Aidan O'Connor," she whispered, not noticing Angel's eyes go wide at the familiar name. "His family were real troublemakers back in the day - Irish, you know. Aidan got himself accused of murder a few years back, but nobody was able to prove it. Still, people talk...Do you know what they say he did?"

Angel turned to her. "What?" she asked, the sarcasm in her tone unnoticed by Mrs Gerson. The older woman leaned even closer, eyes wide and voice hushed.

"They say he murdered his fiance!"

Angel jerked upright, nausea flashing over her. "That'll be all, thank you, Mrs Gerson. What's my bill?"

The startled woman stared at her in surprise. "Dollar and five cents."

Angel took out the money and then grabbed the thread, heading out of the store as fast as she could. A wave of disgust passed over her at the memory of the woman's gossip, coupled with curiosity as she remembered the note, still in her pocket.

"Aidan O'Connor," she murmured. "Cross Bar Ranch."

She went back to the store and resumed sewing with Hope, but a seed had been planted in her mind.

~

That's my update for today, folks! Reviews and votes are loved!