A/N: Okay, I know I messaged that I was planning to redo this storyline entirely, but after a lot of thought and some much-appreciated good sense, I've decided to keep it the way it is and edit only minor things. I hope you like this somewhat re-vamped version of the story and keep following it!
Enjoy!
Chapter Two
"What?"
Aidan O'Connor stared at the man who had presided over his brother's funeral, unable to believe the words he had just heard. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.
"As I was saying, Mr O'Connor," the weedy, grey-haired minister continued, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, "you are your niece and nephew's only living guardian. Despite your rather...ahem...interesting past, you are still a blood relative and therefore have legal custody."
Aidan turned, his eyes crossing the room to stare at the children sitting quietly in the corner. He hadn't even known Shaun was married, let alone that he had two kids. "What happens if I don't want them?" he asked.
"Well, they'll be taken to a state orphanage and placed for adoption."
Aidan glanced at the children again. Lina, the younger of the two, sat huddled on a chair, her thin frame curled into herself while her shortcut fair hair hung limply around her face. Jesse, the boy, stood next to his sister, an arm around her shoulders while he glared fiercely at the other people in the room as though daring them to come over.
Aidan sighed. The life he led wasn't fit for one child, let alone two, but he wasn't about to send them to an orphanage. Turning to the minister, he voiced his decision. "I'll take them."
The ride home was a silent one. Aidan couldn't think of anything to say, and the children seemed mute, sitting quietly side by side in the back of the wagon. Not a word was spoken until the wagon pulled into the front yard.
"Well," Aidan struggled to find the words, "this is it."
The place was a disaster. It had once been a large, respectable farm, but at some point a fire had broken out, and the house had been partially burned to the ground. One side of the house was sagging, the boards black and rotting, but the other half was in fairly good condition, with a weathered front porch and an outhouse round the back. A barn stood off to the side, and next to it a well. It wasn't much, but it was home.
Aidan turned around to lift Lina down from the wagon, but she was already on the ground. He motioned for the children to follow him, and they stepped inside the house.
The inside of the house was only marginally better than the outside. Dust lay thick on the worn table and chairs in the center of the front room, and tattered curtains waved in the frail breeze. A black cast-iron stove stood in the corner, and from then on, the house branched off into several rooms, all with the doors lying open.
"You kids hungry?" Aidan asked, breaking the silence.
Lina glanced at her brother, and then shook her head.
"You can go to your rooms, then. The ones down the hall and across from each other are yours."
They nodded and turned slowly in the direction of the bedrooms.
"Hang on a second," Aidan called. "You got any bags?"
Jesse shook his head.
Great. They'd come in only the clothes they stood up in. Aidan sighed. Looked like he was going to have to go to town.
~
"How are you liking the new house?" Angel's query brought Hope's head up from her sewing, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"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!