Johanna Lindsey - Angel

“And there were complications after. I’d been pretty ripped up. The bleeding wouldn’t stop… now don’t look like that.” Cassie had gone quite pale. “It wasn’t your fault. If you want to know the truth, I wouldn’t have fought to recover if it weren’t for you.”

“But, Mama—”

“No buts,” Catherine interrupted sternly. “You see now why I didn’t want to tell you? But it certainly wasn’t your fault, and you have to believe me, baby, I never once blamed you. I did, however, blame your papa. I know I shouldn’t have. Things like that just happen. It’s no one’s fault. But that’s not the way my mind was working back then.”

Catherine suddenly laughed, though it was a bitter sound. “To this day I wonder if things would have been different if what I’d learned afterward would have come my way just a little sooner. My, how quickly ignorance can end, whether you want it to or not.

“It’s amazing. Another woman sees you with a baby, even one who doesn’t know you, and they start telling you all about their own birth experiences. All the things I should have been warned about beforehand that might have prepared me better, I was told about after, that the first baby is always the hardest, that the pain is soon forgotten, that women with narrow hips like me usually have an even more difficult time of it — things like that, and, unanimously, that it’s worth it.

“I agree wholeheartedly with the last. I’ve never regretted for a minute having you, Cassie. But after what I went through, I wasn’t going to have any more children if I could help it, and I could. I told your papa I’d shoot him if he even thought about climbing into my bed again.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “I don’t suppose he took too kindly to that?”

“I reckon be didn’t.”

“And that’s it?”

“Only what started it. You see, I didn’t ask him to give me time. I said flat out never again. And he was extremely patient in the beginning, thinking I’d change my mind. I might have — the memory of that pain really does diminish. But eight months went by and he finally blew up about it.

“I suppose I can’t blame him now, though I sure did at the time. I don’t know. I guess the way I was thinking was that if I was never going to make love again, he could damn well abstain, too. That was unrealistic of me, I know. But I was young and emotional, and like I said, my mind wasn’t working quite right back then.”

“Then that’s what did it, his getting angry?”

“No, what did it was my finding out he went to Gladis’s place.”

Cassie knew about Gladis’s place. It had burned down about seven years ago and Gladis had moved on to some other town. But in its day it had been one of the finest whorehouses in Wyoming. To this day men still talked about Gladis’s place — and Cassie just couldn’t picture her papa going there.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“ ‘Course I am. You don’t think I’d end a marriage on mere suspicions, do you? There was this man lived in Cheyenne back then. I don’t remember his name now, but he’d taken a fancy to me and was always teasing me about when I was going to leave your papa for him. He even pestered me when I was full-blown pregnant. Well, he figured he was doing me a favor by telling me that half the town had seen Charles visiting that brothel.”

“Some favor,” Cassie remarked dryly.

“I agree. If I recall right, I think I broke two knuckles on his jaw to thank him. And I never did see him again. But anyhow, I was mad enough when I confronted your papa and he admitted it that I told him to get out. He wouldn’t. So I told him never to speak to me again.”

“And he didn’t — nor did you.”

“I can’t help my temper, Cassie,” Catherine said defensively. “I’m an unforgiving woman. I know it. What that Dotty woman said is perfectly true. Your papa’s lucky I didn’t shoot him for what he did. I did go to Gladis’s late one night to find out who he was visiting there. Her I would have shot. But Gladis protected her girls real good. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Yet you say you never stopped loving him,” Cassie reminded her.

“I can’t help that, either. And I know that I drove him to it, but I just couldn’t forgive something like that. The fear and the anger— they’re a terrible combination. Don’t ever let them get hold of you like they did me.”

Cassie shook her head in bemusement. For it to have been something as simple as jealousy. She wished she didn’t sympathize with both sides, but she did. There were simply no winners in that sort of situation. Yet they were talking now, she reminded herself. Something had gotten them beyond that long bout of anger.

“Mama, what happened in the barn that night?”

“None of your business.”

After everything Catherine had just revealed, Cassie had to laugh at that answer. And she retained her good humor until a few hours later. It was that evening when she discovered that she had no reason to deny Angel his divorce. She wasn’t pregnant.

With a population of over three hundred thousand, St. Louis was right up there with Philadelphia and New York City in size. Though Catherine preferred Chicago for their annual shopping excursions, they had come to St. Louis twice over the years.

Their last visit had been back in ‘75, not long after the completion of the East Bridge, which crossed the Mississippi. The suburbs had expanded greatly since then. In fact, the whole city had grown noticeably in the past six years. But Catherine was a creature of habit. Wherever they went, she always stayed in the same hotels, which were usually the best the cities had to offer, not necessarily the newest.

So Cassie had assumed they would be staying at the same hotel as they had before, and that was where she had asked the detective from the renowned Pinkerton agency to find her. She only hoped he could do so without alerting her mama to what she was up to.

Catherine hadn’t mentioned seeing a lawyer again, but Cassie knew she would just as soon as she got bored with her shopping. That would give Cassie about a week, maybe two, to decide what she was going to do about a divorce. Of course, there was nothing really to decide. She had to get one. She had no reason not to now. Just because she might like to stay married to the husband she’d unexpectedly gotten didn’t mean she could.

He’d have something to say about it, and none of it would be nice. Her mama would have a fit, too, if Cassie even hinted that she liked Angel enough to keep him. All the reasons would be trotted out why he wasn’t suitable for a husband. Cassie didn’t want to hear them. She already knew them, and they had nothing to do with feelings.

The old-timers in the city were predicting snow any day now, but the sun continued to shine. It didn’t warm things up much— St. Louis in January was more what Cassie was accustomed to in winter than Texas was— but it made getting around the city much more pleasant than snow would have. And they didn’t have far to go. It hadn’t been hard to find the most highly recommended dressmaker in town. She still happened to be Madame Cecilia, the same one they’d used before, and her shop was located only a few blocks from the hotel. They’d even walked there a few times when the wind wasn’t too brisk.

This afternoon, for the fourth visit and last fitting, Catherine hired a carriage. Cassie would have preferred to walk, since she didn’t feel like participating in her mama’s usual chatter. She was brooding again. They’d been in the city for five days now, but the Pinkerton man hadn’t arrived yet. Cassie was already thinking up reasons to delay their departure if he still didn’t show up during the next week.

Finding Angel’s parents was no longer just a whim. It had become quite important to her for the simple reason that if she was successful, she’d have a valid excuse not only to see Angel again, but to talk to him. And she wanted that. She could always see him, after all. She imagined she’d be going to Cheyenne a lot more than she ever had before, just to catch glimpses of him. But he wouldn’t talk to her unless he had to. She knew that. Even if it wasn’t because he wouldn’t want to be bothered, which he wouldn’t, he’d be thinking of her reputation. They were both well known in their town. There’d be talk of the scandalous sort if she were seen in the company of Cheyenne’s notorious Angel.

“You’re moping again,” Catherine remarked a block away from Madame Cecilia’s.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“All right, I miss Marabelle.”

The ranch hands whom Catherine had brought with her to Texas, in case she needed a show of force, had taken Marabelle home with them, since fine hotels frowned on putting up pets of that sort. And it was only a half lie of the evasive kind that Cassie had just told. She did miss her pet. She simply missed Angel more.

“I know I wired for our private sleeper car to be transferred here,” Catherine said, “but we don’t have to wait for it if you want to go home already.”

“No!” Cassie said a bit too forcefully. She quickly amended her negative response. “I mean, I can get along without her for a few weeks, and vice versa.”

“I’m not so sure about the vice versa,” Catherine remarked. “You weren’t the one who had to chase her halfway to Denver the first time you visited your papa, and explain to all those good folks along the way that they weren’t hunting a wild panther, but my daughter’s pet, who didn’t know enough to stay home where she didn’t scare people half to death.”

Cassie grinned, remembering the long, vituperative letter that had accompanied Marabelle to Texas in the large cage Catherine had been forced to have made for her so she could ship her to Cassie. Marabelle had tried to follow Cassie, but had lost her scent after the first train stop across the Colorado border, not halfway to Denver as her mama had exaggerated. But Catherine had most definitely been put out with both daughter and pet at the time.