Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (3 page)

Amelia found a
home for all of her belongings; shoes, parasols, corsets, toiletries, books,
perfume. She dabbed a small drop of her favorite cologne behind each ear and on
both wrists. After all, if the first impression she gave wasn’t what it should
have been, maybe her second could make up for it.

Everything
tucked neatly away, Amelia sat on the edge of the bed to contemplate what to do
next. The minutes ticked by mercilessly. Sitting alone in unfamiliar
surroundings didn’t appeal to her right now, so she decided to head downstairs
to see if she could locate her aunt and maybe help prepare supper in some way. Taking
her cane in her right hand, she proceeded out into the hallway and promptly
located the stairs.

The saloon was
now very much alive with activity. Amelia paused to listen, hoping to locate
her aunt. The voices closest to the stairs were about the only articulations
she could comprehend amidst the din and the blaring piano.

“I just can’t
believe you’re actually going to eat with us!” One man said.

“Yeah, well at
least I was invited. You invited yourself, remember?” Came the retort from another
man. Both gentlemen Amelia overheard possessed strong, confident, masculine
voices.

“I’m sure you
either did or said something to make Corrin feel obligated to invite you. I
know you, Cowan. You just couldn’t stand the thought of my having a nice time
in the company of two beautiful women without you.”

So, these
individuals knew her aunt. Deciding that perhaps they could direct her, Amelia
began to descend the stairs. A little more than halfway down she heard the
somewhat familiar voice of Corrin Dannon.

“Well, hello,
Amelia. You’re just in time. I was just heading up to check on you. I trust you’re
feeling better after your rest? Did you find the fresh water? I hope you don’t
mind that I entered your room. You certainly were tired. Never even stirred.”

“Oh yes, Aunt
Corrin,” Amelia said with a smile as she reached the first floor of the saloon.
She extended her left hand toward the origin of the pleasant, chatty voice. “Thank
you for the water. And that was the most comfortable bed I have had the
pleasure of reclining on in such a long time.” She had accentuated her Southern
drawl, much to her own disconcertion. She tended to do that whenever she was
nervous or tense about something. So, she breathed in a deep breath, hoping it
would calm her.

Amelia noticed
that the establishment had come to a quick hush. She hoped it wasn’t because of
her. The only thing she could think to do was hold firmly to her aunt’s hand.
And then she felt her cheek flush.

Whispers could
be heard asking, “Who is she?” with the answer always being, “I don’t know.”

“Boys,” Aunt
Corrin said in a loud, clear voice. “This is my niece, Amelia Jackson. She’s
staying with me now. And anyone who bothers her or gives her any trouble will
have to answer to me!”

The place
roared with laughter. Amelia couldn’t tell if she’d missed a joke or someone
had done something funny.

“And me!”
added one of the men Amelia had heard as she descended the stairs.

“And me!” The
other familiar voice said.

“Me too!” a
third man’s voice boomed through the room.

“Me too!” someone
called from the other side of eh room, even though his high-pitched voice
sounded like it belonged to a man with small stature and would certainly not be
much of a threat to anyone.

The laughter
subsided quickly. Perhaps thought of tangling with any of the first three burly
fellows had given them pause. The patrons definitely understood what was being
said, and straightway went back to their merriment.

Amelia
swallowed hard. The reality of her living arrangement was sinking in with each
passing minute. This was a saloon frequented by men. And God only knows what
kind of men! Why would her safety be an issue with her aunt? Did God really
know what he was doing by sending her to live there?

“Supper is
almost ready. We’ll eat in the kitchen tonight. It will be more private than
out here.” Corrin grabbed Amelia’s arm, tucked it under her elbow and retreated
to a room located at the back of the saloon.

Amelia was
instantly comforted by the homey smells of her aunt’s cooking. This room was
quieter than the outer one and felt cozier and warm too. She deduced that the
footsteps she heard behind her belonged to two men. This was confirmed when her
Aunt introduced her to the two gentlemen. Recognizing their voices, she thanked
them for their gallantry in speaking up for her in the saloon.

Corrin then
lead them to the table for supper. The gentlemen scrambled to see who would be
the first to help Miss Jackson with her chair.

“Please, allow
me.” Mr. Strupel was the quicker of the two, and he pulled out her chair for
her, taking her by the arm and gently guiding her to it. Amelia thanked him and
gracefully posed herself on the chair. Mr. Strupel sat to the right of her and Mr.
Cowan to the left.

Amelia
cleverly felt the edge of the table to obtain an idea of where all her utensils
had been placed, and after locating her napkin, slipped it onto her lap. She
had never dined with complete strangers in her life. Her earlier resolve to be
strong wavered, and she breathed deeply to keep herself from crying.

›
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As Corrin
served her guests, Amelia reached toward her right and found Mr. Strupel’s arm.
“Would you mind doing me one small kindness, sir?”

“Of course,
Miss Jackson. What can I do for you?” Paul threw a quick victory glance toward
Mr. Cowan.

“Supposing my
plate to be a clock and that the hands are pointing to the various foods Aunt
Corrin has placed there, would you kindly tell me what position my foods are
located?”

All three
sighted friends sent silent signals to one another that told they were baffled
and looked to each other for the answer. But, in turn, they shrugged their
shoulders and just remained silent.

“I’m sorry if
I’ve confused you.” Amelia pointed directly in front of her. “Straight up is
twelve o’clock, to the right is three o’clock and so on. So, Mr. Strupel, what
time is my meat located at?” She smiled toward his direction.

“Oh, I
understand now.”

Corrin thought
she was quite clever to have devised such a plan.

“Meat at ten o’clock,”
Paul told her. Potato at one o’clock, peas at four o’clock, and biscuit at
about seven.”

“Oh, goodness.”
Amelia shook her head. “Not peas.”

“I’m sorry; is
there a problem, Amelia? Are you allergic to peas?” Corrin was a little
irritated that this may be another negative detail of her having her niece as a
permanent house guest. She didn’t care to cater to someone else’s whims. She’s
been independent all her life and certainly didn’t welcome it now.

“Actually,
Aunt Corrin, I love peas. It’s just that they are the most difficult food of
all for me to eat.”

“Difficult?”

“Yes. The
little fellows simply won’t help me out at all.” Amelia giggled.

Corrin thought
it sounded pleasant. She halted that line of thinking. She didn’t want to like
the girl.

“I don’t think
I’ve ever been able to completely clear my plate whenever peas have been served.
You see, because of their shape, I simply can’t catch all those little rascals.”

Everyone
laughed about the peas which put the whole table more at ease. And in this way,
the conversation began. They all had a fine time. The food was delectable, the
atmosphere relaxed and charming. But Corrin reserved her judgment. One
successful dinner didn’t mean this was going to be easy.

And much to
everyone’s pleasure, Amelia enchanted them all with her wit and humor. It
astonished Corrin to discover how capable she was of doing many things without
the assistance of others. This lessened her apprehensions about the whole
situation considerably, and she soon allowed herself to enjoying the company of
her two closest friends and her charming niece.

Amelia was
able to sustain a conversation about any topic, either by contributing her own
knowledge or by asking questions to gain the information she lacked. But Corrin
sensed her niece avoiding much conversation with her. She had the feeling
Amelia held a low opinion of her, probably because of her occupation. And yet
this girl wanted to live there with her? Corrin bristled at the thought. Why
had she signed those papers earlier today? Had Mr. Johnston somehow tricked her
into this? Surely she had a choice in the matter.

Amelia
certainly kept the gentlemen’s interest by asking them about their lumber
operations which they were more than happy to talk about. They looked pleased
that she was showing such a genuine interest in their work. They informed her that
the Glory Gulch Sawmill, owned by Mr. Strupel, was located about a mile outside
of town on the Colorado River. His workers who didn’t have families in town
bunked up the mountain at the Cowan Brother’s Logging Company. They told her
that with the Denver-Rio Grande Railroad making its way through the mountains
and the booming gold and silver mining towns in the area, they were making a
small fortune in the lumber business with their
green gold
.

“But, you
haven’t told us much abort yourself, Miss Jackson,” Jeremiah said.

“Well, my
mother and I lived in a modest house. She kept me busy by always trying to
stretch my mind in one way or another. She couldn’t afford to send me to a
school for the blind, but she did send away for many of their textbooks and
taught me herself.”

“What kind of
things did she teach you?” Corrin asked, hoping some of it would be useful to
her.

“Well, how to
use this cane to get around without bruising myself and how to count paces
whenever I go somewhere so I could negotiate trips around town by myself. She
taught me how to read Braille and taught me geography, arithmetic, religion,
manners and music.” Amelia sighed and lowered her head a bit.

Corrin’s heart
tugged at her. She knew this girl had lost everything just four months ago. She
studied her niece’s features---so like her sister Grace, so like her own. If
things had turned out different over two decades ago, would this have been her
own daughter eating dinner with her?

 “Miss
Jackson,” Paul said. “I don’t think you are aware of this, but you and Corrin
look very much alike. You even have the same hair color and both of you have
those lovely blue-gray eyes, even though I think yours are prettier.” He winked
at Corrin.

Had he heard
her private ruminations? Her pulse quickened. She had to get control of her
thoughts, lest they betray her. She’d managed to keep them hidden all these
years; she’d now have to be very careful not to reveal too much.

“Thank you,
Mr. Strupel. I’ve been told that I have my father’s eyes. But my favorite color
is pink.”

Corrin stared
at her. How could a blind person possibly have a favorite color?

“And why are
you so partial to the color pink?” Mr. Strupel asked, a smile playing across
his handsome face.

Corrin had
always thought Paul to be handsome, but she had guarded her heart ever since
she lost her true love so long ago. No! She needed to be in control tonight.

“Well, I’ll
give you a couple of reasons,” Amelia answered. “First, I think it sounds
pretty. Pink. And I hope you don’t think less of me for saying this, but
whenever I wear pink I get compliments on how nice I look. And the other reason
I like pink is because it feels so soft!”

Corrin and the
men smiled. How naïve of her. And precious. She couldn’t help but see Paul
Strupel’s admiration of Amelia. It was written all over his face. Her answer
intrigued him.

“You think
pink is a color that feels soft?” Paul asked.

“Oh, yes, I do.
Here, feel my hair ribbon.”

Paul reached
up and felt the silken bow tied neatly in the back of her hair, and as he did, his
eyes never strayed from her face. Corrin had seen that look before, and she
didn’t like it. Sure, she didn’t love Paul---never have and never will---but
Amelia was half his age. Of course, this was the west, and men often waited
until they’d made something of themselves before they took a bride. She couldn’t
blame him, though.

Her blind
niece had no idea of how pretty she was. No one could miss the silkiness of her
complexion, the rosiness of her cheeks, the gleam in her eyes, the soft sheen
of her hair. Corrin had to admit she was an engaging young lady inside and out.

“See, Mr.
Strupel, my ribbon is pink and it feels ever so soft. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. I see
exactly what you mean. And you’re right, pink definitely looks pretty on you.” He
was smiling with delight.

“Oh, dear. Thank
you, but I hope you weren’t thinking that I was fishing for a compliment.” Amelia
blushed.

“Most
certainly not. I don’t hand out compliments where they aren’t due.”

“I’ll vouch
for that,” Mr. Cowan added. “I can’t remember the last time Strupel ever said
anything nice about...well, anything.”

“Don’t listen
to him, Miss Jackson. What does he know? He’s just an old timber boss who
occasionally needs to be taken down a notch or two.”

“Let’s adjourn
to the parlor, shall we?” Corrin had tired of the dinner conversation.

“This saloon
has a parlor?” Amelia asked. “I’m surprised, because from everything I was told
about saloons, they didn’t have much about them that is

proper. . .”
Amelia stopped and ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Aunt Corrin. I didn’t mean
anything by that.”

Corrin
cringed. At least now she knew exactly what her niece thought of her and her
establishment. But the girl was wrong. How could she know that Corrin ran a
respectable place? All she did was sell beer and whisky to hard-working men.
She never hired women of ill-repute or soiled doves. The waitresses didn’t wear
obscene costumes and weren’t allowed to drink. The Silver Slipper Saloon in
Glory Gulch, Colorado, held a reputation of being an upscale enterprise in the
middle of a downfallen world.