Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) Read online

  ANGEL IN THE SALOON

  By Jeanne Marie Leach

  Copyright 2000, 2012 by Jeanne Marie Leach

  Electronic printing 2012

  Scriptures used in this book are quoted from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

  Disclaimer: Glory Gulch, Colorado, is a fictitious town created from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any town, real or imaginary, is purely coincidental. Their characters are also fictitious and any resemblance to any persons real or imaginary is also coincidental.

  Cover by Lacy J. Williams

  To David, my husband of almost thirty-eight years. You are my proof that love at second sight can result in a long and meaningful relationship. Thank you for your encouragement and support, and for believing that I could attain my goals and dreams. I love you as high as the sky!

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Glory Gulch, Colorado--1880

  “Excuse me, Ma’am. Are you Miss Corrin Dannon?” the short man inquired.

  “Yes, I am.” She had been leaning against the bar, her face resting in the palm of her hand. Her private daydreams interrupted, Corrin went back to work washing and drying the glasses from the reveling crowd that had sought their merrymaking in her saloon the previous night.

  “May I inquire,” the man continued as he wiped his narrow brow with his well-worn handkerchief. “Do you have a sister?”

  “Yes, I have a sister. But we haven’t spoken in over twenty years. I don’t know where she is---nor do I care.” A lot of men have tried unusual approaches to get her attention, but this odd, little man with his small, wiry frame and thinning hair didn’t stand a chance with her. Corrin was certain forty wasn’t as unkind to her as it was to this fellow.

  “And what is your sister’s name?”

  “Her name is Grace. Why all these questions?”

  “It’s my line of work, Ma’am. I apologize for taking up your time. However, when I’m finished I’m sure you will understand the necessity of this line of questioning. Now, are you aware of your sister ever having been married?”

  “Who are you? Is my sister in some kind of trouble? I already told you,” Corrin didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. “We haven’t spoken in over twenty years. Why trouble me with all of this?”

  “Oh, I apologize. You’re quite right. Introductions should have come first.” The man’s demeanor softened somewhat.

  Ah, here come his real intentions! Corrin smiled. She knows men.

  “It’s just that I’ve been away from home for some time, and I’m so near my journey’s end that I’m afraid I’ve become over anxious to conclude my business.” The gentleman bowed slightly toward Corrin. “Percival Johnston at your service, Miss Dannon. Now, if you would indulge me by answering a couple more questions I should be able to clarify my purpose momentarily. Are you aware of your sister ever having been married?”

  “Yes. That’s why we haven’t spoken for so long---it’s a family matter.” Corrin frowned. He really was asking about her sister. She certainly was in no mood to be dredging up those bitter memories.

  “What was her husband’s name?”

  “Alister Jackson.”

  “Well, that’s good enough for me!” Mr. Johnston actually smiled for the first time. “Miss Dannon, I think you had better sit down.”

  “Why? Has something happened to Grace?” She followed him to a table in the corner of her saloon and impatiently flung herself into a wooden chair across from him.

  “I’m afraid I must be the bearer of bad news. You see, your sister had been ill for some time and passed away quietly about four months ago. I am the executor of her last will and testament. It has taken me this long to locate you.”

  Although she and her sister had been estranged these twenty years, Corrin was saddened by the news. Feelings of regret, guilt and disappointment churned inside her.

  The business men meeting at a nearby table stopped and looked across the room at her. These were dear friends, and she knew they’d come to her aid at the mere nod of her head. She looked away from them—needed time to process what she’d just learned.

  Grace was dead.

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Jackson passed away heroically during the War, which left your sister to care for their handicapped daughter alone these past seventeen years.”

  “Grace has a daughter? Where is she now? And what’s this about a handicap?”

  “Miss Dannon,” Mr. Johnston said, scowling. “We’ll get through this much quicker if you would just allow me to continue in an orderly manner. Your sister managed to make a nice living for herself and her daughter by becoming a fine seamstress. But about eighteen months ago she took to her sick bed, too weak to do anything. What little money she had been able to save went toward medical bills and putting food on the table. So I am afraid that there isn’t anything left of her estate, except Miss Amelia.”

  “Miss Amelia? Oh, I guess that must be Grace’s daughter. Well, if there isn’t anything left of her estate why are you telling me all of this? Wouldn’t a letter have sufficed?”

  “Yes, Miss Amelia is Grace and Alister Jackson’s daughter. And your sister made it quite clear on her death bed that she wanted you to take care of her after her passing.”

  “Now wait just a minute!” Corrin bolted to her feet. “If you’ve come here to tell me that I’ve just inherited my sister’s daughter, well you’ve got another thing coming to you, Mr. Johnston! I have a business to run and I can’t be running after some kid all day long. And you didn’t answer my question about this handicap of hers.”

  “Miss Amelia is blind.”

  “Blind!” Corrin interjected as she narrowed her eyes at the small man.

  “She’s quite capable of doing many things for herself. She just can’t do certain chores around the house that involve starting fires---or using knives---things of that nature.”

  “Oh that’s just wonderful! I’ve not only inherited a kid I didn’t even know existed, but she’s blind! Just how am I supposed to do this by myself?”

  Mr. Johnston stood, pushed his glasses up on his nose and leaned forward with his small, soft hands planted firmly on the table. He cool-headedly glared directly into Corrin’s stormy blue eyes. “Your sister did it. Miss Amelia was Mrs. Jackson’s most precious possession and she wouldn’t entrust her to just anyone. She wanted you to have Amelia because you are family, and the two of you were all she had left in this world. Despite the problems between you, your sister was sure you would be able to give her daughter the love she needed at a time like this. She knew it would be tough, but she told me you are a tough lady.”

  Mr. Johnston straightened his short frame as far as it would allow. “I’ve been working for nearly four months to execute Grace Jackson’s last will and testament. I’m tired and I want to go home to my own family. You feel like you’ve got no choice in the matter, well neither has Miss Amelia. She has no money and nowhere else to go. If things don’t work out, you could send her to an institutio
n for the blind and you’d be rid of her. But for now, I am compelled to place her in your custody. So, if you would just sign a couple of papers I can be on my way.” Mr. Johnston fumbled through a black satchel which he placed on the table in front of him.

  Corrin looked pleadingly toward her two dearest friends who had been watching the incident from the businessmen’s table ever since she stood and shouted, but after Mr. Johnston’s last dissertation, she knew what she had to do. She signed the custody papers in excruciating silence.

  “Thank you very much, Miss Dannon. This copy is for your records.” Mr. Johnston smiled and handed Corrin the documents, which she snatched from him and glared at incredulously. He folded his own copies and placed them confidently back into the satchel. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will get Miss Amelia and introduce her to you.”

  “You mean---she’s here? Now?”

  “Yes, she’s outside on the porch.” Disappearing out the front door, he left Corrin still standing at the table, mouth gaping, trying to comprehend the impact of what had just occurred. With the simple act of signing her name to some official looking documents, her familiar life had unraveled, an unwelcome and unwanted change.

  Paul Strupel adjourned the businessmen’s meeting, but he and Jeremiah Cowan didn’t leave. Corrin knew they would never leave her alone when she was distressed. When they walked over to where she stood, Paul put his arm around Corrin’s shoulder and gave her a firm squeeze.

  “You won’t be alone in this, Corrin,” he assured her. “You’ve got a lot of friends who’ll be glad to help you out. We’ll figure this out together.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Jeremiah said. “You’ll see.”

  The three watched the door. Corrin didn’t know what to say, unsure of what to expect of this blind child who was about to impose upon her well-ordered life.

  › › ›

  Amelia Jackson quietly agonized on the front porch of the Silver Slipper Saloon, waiting for Mr. Johnston to return. She was in no hurry to meet this long-lost aunt who owned this place. Her mother had brought her up in a Christian home with all the morals, poise and mannerisms a young lady should possess. And no genteel, Southern lady would set foot in a place like this, much less actually live here.

  Her thoughts shifted toward her mother. She was glad her suffering was over, but her tender, young heart ached to be cradled in her arms. Her heart yearned for just one gentle touch of her mother’s hand on her hair or a sweet kiss on her cheek to comfort her in her blindness, for words can sometimes deceive, but a loving touch rarely does. Her mother was her best friend, next to the Lord. How would she get through the rest of her life without her?

  Amelia put her hand to her forehead, trying to make sense of it all, trying to pray for peace, trying to discern why God would allow this to happen to her. She recognized the short strides of Mr. Johnston walking toward her.

  “It’s time, Miss Amelia,” Mr. Johnson said. “Your aunt is waiting for you.”

  Amelia stood and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “Let’s go.”

  › › ›

  Corrin stood in utter astonishment at the sight of the young lady who approached arm-in-arm with Mr. Johnston.

  “She’s beautiful,” Paul Strupel said under his breath as he leaned toward Corrin, not taking his eyes off of the stranger.

  Corrin agreed. Her twenty-year-old niece’s wavy, light brown hair gleamed with golden highlights as it cascaded down the full length of her back. She had twisted her long bangs loosely and pulled them to the back of her head where they were secured with a bow of fine, pink silk. A couple of loose strands had escaped and trickled down the sides of her face where her eyes, fixed straight ahead, shone brightly and were as blue-gray as the sea. Amelia Jackson’s fair complexion was as satiny as the bow in her hair, and a light glint of rose colored her cheeks.

  The young lady stood average height and grasped a long, thin stick in her gloved hand, which she used as a sort of guide, keeping her from bumping into things as Mr. Johnston carefully maneuvered her around the furniture in the saloon.

  “Miss Dannon, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Miss Amelia Jackson, your niece. And Miss Amelia this is your aunt, Miss Corrin Dannon.”

  “Amelia I’m---glad to meet you and I’m so sorry to hear about your mother’s passing.” Corrin grasped for the proper words for such an occasion. “Please allow me to be of any assistance to you during this troubled time.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Aunt Corrin. Thank you for your kind offer,” Amelia answered quietly in a Southern accent. She attempted a smile. Instead her mouth tightened in a frustrated attempt to keep the tears from tumbling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry---I’m afraid that I am not feeling too well right now---the long trip, you know. If you could show me where I may lie down for awhile, I’m sure I will be feeling better soon.”

  “Oh, of course, dear. I always need to rest after being on that darned stage for more than a couple hours. Sometimes I think the danged thing might just shake a person’s brains loose. I’ll show you to a room upstairs where I think you’ll be comfortable enough.”

  Corrin turned to Mr. Johnston and inquired as to whether Amelia had luggage. He nodded and told her that it was on the boardwalk just outside the building. She then turned to her two friends.

  “Gentlemen, would you please bring Amelia’s trunk to the second room on the right?” The men scrambled to the porch as Corrin reached for Amelia’s arm to lead her upstairs.

  Amelia stopped and turned toward where she last had heard Mr. Johnston’s voice and reached out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Johnston, for everything you’ve done for me. I wish you the best in whatever path your life takes. And may God bless you and your lovely family.” Amelia smiled bravely, tears now streaming down her face.

  “I think you’ll find this room to be quite comfortable and pleasant.” Corrin, observing that her niece was grieved, spoke softly to her. She was still dubious of her being there. She led her to a spare bedroom upstairs.

  “There’s a wardrobe to your left,” Corrin said upon entering the room, “a chest of drawers over to your right and the bed is in the middle of the wall straight ahead.”

  Her two friends appeared in the doorway, carrying a heavy, wooden trunk.

  “You can put the trunk at the foot of the bed where she can find it easily,” Corrin instructed. “Thank you, fellas.”

  “I’m sure the room will be just fine, Aunt Corrin. Right now I simply need to rest.”

  “Yes of course, dear. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be downstairs. We can get acquainted over supper. You just rest now. Come on boys, the lady needs her privacy.” Corrin grabbed one gentleman with each arm and sashayed out of the room. She stopped just outside the doorway. “Oh, dinner will be at seven.” After this blunt statement, Corrin realized Amelia would have no idea what time to come to dinner. She wouldn’t be able to read a watch. She simply shrugged and walked on. After all, she was in no hurry to get started on any kind of relationship with this blind niece of hers.

  › › ›

  Amelia hadn’t been introduced to the gentlemen her Aunt kept referring to, and she didn’t much care. Using her cane to guide her, she found the bed, threw herself face-down upon it, and sobbed.

  When she’d heard Mr. Johnson walking away from her just a few minutes ago, the last familiar footsteps fading from her life, she knew this cruel situation in which she found herself was real.

  Lord, you are all I have left of my previous years to hold on to. Mother always said that you would never leave me nor forsake me. Well, I need to know that now more than ever.

  “Mother,” she spoke softly to the room. “Why did you send me here? If this is really your sister, then why didn’t you ever speak of her?” The mystery surrounding her Aunt Corrin remained elusive, and she wondered if she’d ever be told the truth. When Mr. Johnston had taken charge of her, Amelia was powerless to protest, but deep down, she had held on to the thought that there reall
y wasn’t an aunt who owned a saloon in Colorado. The bitter truth---a real live aunt---had just met her face-to-face.

  The sobs gradually subsided, and Amelia’s energy was spent. She pulled off her shoes and tucked herself underneath a light blanket; hoping sleep might erase the unpleasant situation in which she found herself.

  › › ›

  Once again downstairs, Corrin and her two friends sat around a table talking quietly of the events of the day---namely Amelia Jackson.

  “She’s the loveliest lady I’ve seen in a long time,” Paul Strupel said. “Her clothes, her Southern accent, her poise . . . well they all tell me that she’s a lady in every sense of the word. Yessiree. She’s a true, genteel woman.”

  “I definitely agree with you there,” Jeremiah Cowan said. “She’s a very handsome lady. She has several of your features, Corrin. Hey Strupel, did you notice that? There’s a remarkable family resemblance between the two of them.”

  “No, I hadn’t noticed. But now that you mention it, their eyes and mouth look alike and she has your delicate jaw line too, Corrin. And you hair’s the same color.”

  “Fellas.” Corrin held up a hand to stop this maddening line of thought. “What she looks like makes no difference to me. What I’m interested in is what I’m going to do with a fully grown, blind daughter? Do you realize what this means? It means having to cook three meals a day. I’m going to have to draw and empty her bath for her and help her get dressed and see to it that her colors match.” Corrin rubbed her forehead. A headache had her in its painful grip.

  “Poor thing. She’s been through so much losing her mother and her home.” Jeremiah gulped down several swallows of his beer. “Just imagine what it would be like for her to be thrown in with a bunch of outsiders in a strange place and not being able to see anything.”

  “Yeah. It nearly tore my heart out to see her cry like that.” Paul frowned.

  “What about me?” Corrin slapped a hand on the table as if it could make her niece go away. “My life has changed drastically. It’ll never be the same again.”