Satan's Angel Read online

  The housekeeper nodded her agreement, and the two of them pitched in to complete the packing.

  When they were done, there were two hump-backed leather trunks full of their clothes, as well as another pair of carpet bags, stuffed to bursting. The two ranch hands who carried the trunks down groaned at the sight of the luggage. “Are you going for a visit, or are you moving in with them down there?”

  “It’s not all mine!” Victoria protested, chuckling. “And besides, you can’t go to a wedding with only a couple of dresses.”

  “With what you got in here, I reckon you’ll cast a shade over that bride.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Victoria followed them down the stairs, laughing and joking with them. She always got along well with the men on the ranch. They knew they could be easy and friendly around her, but they also respected her knowledge and skills, and when she gave an order, none of them would think of not following it.

  While the trunks were being loaded onto the back of the wagon, Victoria went in search of Amy. Time meant little to Amy, and schedules even less. She could still be looking at the horses when they were supposed to be leaving for the station.

  A quick glance told Victoria that Amy wasn’t in her favorite spot, the swing under the live oak tree, so she headed toward the barnyard. She went first to the corral, thinking Amy was probably saying farewell to her mare, Cotton. Victoria stayed for a moment to caress the nose of her own gelding, then went inside the barn to the stall where they kept the motherless calf that Amy had been feeding by hand. Next she climbed up the ladder to the loft.

  There she found Amy, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pile of mewling, crawling kittens in her lap. One brave little ball of fluff had climbed up her arm and sat perched on her shoulder; another lay cupped in her hand. Her fine blond hair was pulling loose from its pins and several strands straggled down around her face. There was a streak of dirt across her skirt.

  Victoria sighed. She felt equal urges to scold Amy and to pull her close and hug her. “Amy.”

  Amy looked up and smiled, and all desire to scold flew from Victoria’s head. Amy was different from other people; the same rules simply didn’t apply. There were those who said that Amy was strange, even “touched.” But if Amy was “touched,” it was, as Mrs. Donnelly said, by the fairies. She was special. There was a childlike joy to her that rubbed off on everyone around her, and she loved with intensity. There was always hope and kindness in her heart. She was attuned to any sort of hurt or unhappiness, and she was quick to offer her warm sympathy. Victoria couldn’t count the number of times that Amy had quietly slipped her hand into hers, or given her a hug and a smile at just the moment when she was feeling the lowest. Just as Amy took in any stray or wounded animal and gave it succor, she also opened her heart to any person in need of help.

  It didn’t matter that Amy didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the world. It didn’t matter that she was hopeless with figures, chores and decision-making, or that she was unconscious of time and unable to make polite small talk. Victoria or her father would always take care of those things for Amy. Amy’s gift to the world was simply her presence.

  “Hi,” Amy said softly and extended the kitten in her hand toward Victoria. “Look, Tory. Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Yes. Very beautiful.” Victoria smiled and squatted down beside Amy, taking the little creature. The kitten mewed and settled into her palm, beginning a rumbling purr so strong its tiny body quivered. Victoria chuckled.

  “I named him Thunder.”

  “How appropriate.”

  “And the white one’s Lightning.” Amy picked up another kitten and rubbed it against her cheek. Her face was alight with pleasure.

  “Sweetheart, it’s time to go. You need to come back to the house and get ready.”

  “I know. That’s why I came to say goodbye to the kittens.” Amy sighed and set each kitten down gently on the floor, giggling at the way they immediately tried to crawl back into her lap.

  Victoria helped hold the kittens away, and Amy rose lithely. She looked down at them, and regret touched her face for a moment. “They’ll be so old when I get back, I’ll hardly know them.”

  Victoria took her cousin’s hand. “Don’t you want to go, Amy?” It had worried her that Amy might not enjoy being in San Antonio, even though she had wanted to go. What if she missed the ranch and the people she knew? What if San Antonio was so big and bustling that it frightened her?

  Amy’s pale blue eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, I want to go. It will be fun, won’t it? I want to see the wedding. Daphne will look like a princess in her wedding gown. Don’t you think so?”

  Daphne Henderson, the bride-to-be, had gone to finishing school in San Antonio with Victoria. Though Amy had remained at home the three years Victoria had boarded at school, she had met Daphne when Victoria’s friend visited her on the ranch.

  Amy’s face fell a little, and she went on, “Don’t you want me to go, Tory?”

  “Of course I want you to go. It’ll be lots more fun with you along. I was just afraid that you might get lonely for the ranch and the animals.”

  “And Uncle Edward.”

  “Yes. Or that you might get scared in a new place.”

  Amy considered the thought. “I’ll miss the ranch and everybody. But I won’t be scared, not with you along. And I’ll be back soon.” Again the smile that was like the sun breaking through the clouds flashed across her face. “I think it’ll be wonderful to see all those new things!”

  “Then we’d better hurry. I expect Daddy’s already pacing up and down the porch, waiting for us.”

  They climbed down from the loft and hurried out of the barn and across the yard to the house. Ed Stafford, while not actually pacing the porch, was standing there pulling out his pocket watch and glancing at it with an air of impatience. Amy and Victoria darted past him into the house and up the stairs. Victoria put Amy’s hair back in order, and they changed into their traveling clothes, plain brown dresses that would not easily show the dust stirred up by the stagecoach.

  They hurried out on to the porch, tying their bonnets as they went, and Stafford helped them up into the wagon. It was an hour ride from the ranch to Adelaide Childers’ house in town. As soon as they stopped, the front screen door flew open, and a middle-aged woman ran out onto the porch.

  “Oh, my gracious me, Mr. Stafford. I am so embarrassed. You’re right on time, and here I am, not even ready yet. You must think I’m the silliest thing.” One hand fluttered to her chest, and she smiled coyly, as though her silliness were a charming quality that Stafford would doubtless appreciate.

  Victoria bit her lower lip to keep from grinning. It was apparent that the Widow Childers had her cap set for Ed Stafford. Victoria was sure that was the reason she had been so happy to chaperone his daughter and niece to a wedding in San Antonio.

  Stafford sighed and climbed down from the wagon, forcing a polite smile onto his lips. “Good morning, Mrs. Childers. There’s still time before the stage arrives. Perhaps Victoria could give you a hand.”

  It was his daughter’s turn to sigh this time, but she climbed down from the wagon and she did as he suggested; they managed to make it to the stagecoach office with a few minutes to spare. There was little time for good-byes before their luggage was strapped on top, and the driver and shotgun rider climbed up onto the high seat. As the coach pulled away, Amy leaned out the window, waving, and Victoria squeezed against her for a last look at her father.

  It was only when they could no longer see Mr. Stafford that Victoria and Amy settled down and took stock of the other passengers. The two young women and their chaperone sat on one bench seat; opposite them sat a portly middle-aged man in a dark suit, and next to him was a short man as wizened as the other man was fleshy. Under Amy’s and Victoria’s regard, both men doffed their hats and said “Afternoon, ladies,” almost in chorus.

  As the coach rocked along, there was little else to do o
ther than talk, and soon the short man and Mrs. Childers were chatting away like old friends. The other man settled himself against the back of the seat, bracing his legs against the bumps, and went to sleep.

  Victoria leaned over to Amy and whispered in her ear, “I think Mrs. Childers may have found a new quarry.”

  Amy’s lips twitched into a grin, but then she looked back out her window. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked Victoria, her pale cheeks pink with excitement.

  “What?”

  “Everything.” She made a gesture toward the land through which the stagecoach rolled.

  Victoria smiled. Any trip was interesting, of course, but she and her father had come this way several times when she was attending school in San Antonio, and the landscape was familiar to her. But Amy had rarely traveled with them. Victoria had always assumed that, shy and gentle as she was, Amy was happier at home. But seeing Amy’s enthusiastic interest, Victoria wondered if perhaps they had sheltered Amy too much. It made her doubly glad that her father was sending Amy with her.

  Amy, on the other hand, was enjoying the spring landscape without regretting that she hadn’t left the ranch many times before. She was happy on the ranch and had never felt sorry that she so rarely left it.

  She remembered almost nothing of her childhood before she came to her uncle’s ranch. There was only a vague, dreamy memory of a tall, dark-haired man with a rumbling voice and of being held in his arms, her head against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against her cheek and the steady thump of his heartbeat, and smelling the scent of man and sweat and horse. She had no recall whatsoever of what had happened to the rest of her family, and she made no effort to remember; everyone said it was just as well she didn’t. The first thing she really knew was coming to the Stafford ranch. Her uncle had taken her into his arms and held her, and so had Victoria, and she had known instinctively that she would be safe with them. It was always that way with Amy; she rarely thought, she simply felt.

  The ranch was her home, her place; Victoria and Uncle Edward, her protectors. She had loved it there, and because she took pleasure in simple things, she didn’t grow bored; each and every day held something new and fascinating. So when Victoria or her uncle had gone somewhere without her, she had felt nothing worse than loneliness that they weren’t there; she hadn’t wished that she could go, too. Even now, in the excitement of traveling and seeing different places, she felt no regret. She had been happy then; she was happy now.

  Amy knew that her easy contentment was one of the things that led people to say that she was stupid. She guessed they were right in saying she wasn’t bright. Certainly she didn’t have Victoria’s quick wit or her fascination with the why and wherefore of everything. She didn’t like figures, and she quickly lost interest in books. Those things seemed to be what made people intelligent. However, she was happy the way she was and saw no reason to try to change—even if she could have done such a thing. Once she had heard Uncle Edward say that Amy didn’t think with her head, but with her heart. That was true, she knew, and she couldn’t imagine being any other way.

  It was nightfall when they reached Austin, so they spent the night at the Avenue Hotel on Congress. Amy had been in the city a few times before, but she was still amazed by it. She was fascinated by the long horse-drawn trolley cars and the crowds of people; she was awed by the state capitol building. There was so much noise and movement, so many large buildings, that it was almost overwhelming. Victoria told her that San Antonio was even larger and more fascinating, but Amy found that hard to imagine.

  Early the next morning they caught the stagecoach to San Antonio. Victoria was thankful that at least at this hour Mrs. Childers was a trifle more subdued. The stagecoach was full of passengers today and the two girls were squeezed between the wall of the coach and their chaperone.

  The ride was even rougher and dustier than it had been the day before, and with all the bodies stuffed into the vehicle, it was soon hot. It was a distinct relief when the coach pulled into its first rest stop in Santa Clara a couple of hours later.

  Mrs. Childers exited the coach first, turning her head back to admonish the girls to be careful. Her foot tangled in her long, trailing skirt, and she stumbled, one leg twisting behind the other. Victoria grabbed at her, but she wasn’t quick enough to save her, and the older woman tumbled to the ground, shrieking as she fell.

  “Mrs. Childers!” Victoria jumped down to the ground and knelt beside her. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Mrs. Childers’ face was contorted with pain, and a small groan escaped her. “I—I think there’s something wrong with my leg.”

  Victoria glanced up at the other passengers, who stood gaping at them. “Send for a doctor. Quickly.” The driver hustled into the way station, calling for the manager. Victoria turned to Amy. Her cousin’s face was white, her eyes wide and scared. She couldn’t bear to see any creature in pain. “Amy, love, why don’t you go inside? I’ll stay here with Mrs. Childers.”

  Victoria cast a look of appeal at the older businessman who had been in the coach with them, and he took the hint, taking Amy’s arm and leading her gently across the yard into the building. They waited for what seemed an eternity. Now and then Mrs. Childers whimpered, and tears ran down her cheeks. She shook her head. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear. What a silly thing to do.”

  Victoria patted her hand and tried to reassure her, although she wasn’t feeling very hopeful about the injury. She suspected Mrs. Childers had broken her leg.

  A man with a medical bag bustled up and brusquely ordered the rest of the passengers away. “I am Dr. Bauer,” he told Victoria and, after a searching look at her calm face, added, “You can stay. Now, madam, shall we see what’s wrong here?”

  He reached down to turn up Mrs. Childers’ skirt, and Victoria shielded her chaperone from public view as best she could, holding her skirts out wide to either side. Bauer gently touched Mrs. Childers’ leg, and she yelped in pain.

  The doctor sighed. “It’s broken.” He glanced around. “Easiest to set it here. I’ll get my supplies.”

  “Victoria!” Mrs. Childers grabber her hand. “I can’t do that. Tell him. Here on the street…in public. There are men watching. I can’t expose my limb in front of men.”

  “I’ll send everyone away, ma’am,” Victoria promised her. “And I’ll help the doctor myself.” She proceeded to do as she promised, dispersing the curious bystanders. Despite her youth, there was an air of command in her voice and an assurance that made the others do as she bade them, despite some grumbling.

  When the doctor returned with an assistant, Victoria explained her promise to Mrs. Childers that only she and the doctor would remain. Bauer insisted that he needed help in holding the leg steady while he wrapped it, and she told him, “I’ll do it.”

  “You!” Bauer looked at her doubtfully. “You’re admirably calm, young lady, but—”

  “Sir, I am quite accustomed to rough medicine. Our ranch is over an hour to the nearest doctor. I’ve tended wounds and illnesses since I was a child. I’m strong, not inclined to nausea or the vapors, and I possess some rudimentary knowledge. I’ve helped set a broken arm and I splinted a broken finger myself.”

  “Very well.” He nodded shortly and sent the assistant away. “I need you to hold her still while I pull the bone into place and bind it.”

  Victoria braced her hands on the woman’s shoulders, holding her down with all her strength, as the doctor straightened the woman’s leg. Mrs. Childers heaved against Victoria’s restraint, crying out. Then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted. After that, the process was easier. Victoria was able to release Mrs. Childers and help the doctor position the leg and the splints for binding.

  When at last Mrs. Childers’ leg was firmly wrapped in place, several men carried her on a makeshift stretcher down to the hotel. Mrs. Childers, having regained consciousness, wept and clung to Victoria’s hand the entire time, al
ternately bemoaning her clumsiness and deploring the spectacle she was creating by being borne through the streets like a piece of furniture.

  They reached the hotel, and while Victoria checked them in, the men negotiated the stretcher up the stairs and through the hall to Mrs. Childers’ room. Finally she was settled on her bed, and everyone left the room but Victoria and Amy.

  “Oh, this is terrible! Terrible,” Mrs. Childers wailed. “What will your father say?”

  “I’m sure he will say that he’s very sorry this happened to you.”

  “He’ll be furious with me. I was so stupid.”

  Victoria was inclined to think that her father would believe Mrs. Childers had broken her leg through some sort of silly behavior, knowing how Ed Stafford felt about the woman, but she saw no reason to add to her load of remorse by telling her so.

  “You couldn’t help it,” Amy said softly, coming around to the side of the bed and picking up one of Mrs. Childers’ hands. “It’s not your fault you fell. It was an accident. I broke my finger one time, and Uncle Ed wasn’t at all angry.”

  Even in the depths of her despair and self-castigation, Mrs. Childers couldn’t help but smile at Amy. Though Amy hated the sight of pain or blood and avoided it whenever she could, she was good with a recovering patient. Her gentleness and quiet patience were exactly what was needed to soothe the restlessness and discomfort of bedrest.

  “Amy’s right. It was an accident.”

  “But what an awful time for it! What are we going to do? There’s the wedding in San Antonio, and here we are stuck in this place. I don’t even know where we are.”

  “Santa Clara. At least it’s big enough to have an adequate hotel. Don’t worry about the wedding. It’s almost a month away. We have plenty of time to get there. We can stay here until you’re feeling better.”

  “But we can’t just live in this room. I’m confined to the bed. You and Amy will be without a chaperone.” Mrs. Childers looked horrified. “Why, already you’ve had to deal with that man at the desk, and you will have to eat in the dining room. Well, perhaps you could have your food brought up to your room on trays. But, in any case, you’ll be on you own!”