Should I be relieved if he had?
Movement caught her eye as she watched a group in front of the post office walk toward the stagecoach. Her eyes grew round, and sweat trickled down between her breasts. With horror, she realized this most likely was her new family. Mr. Hale had brought all his children to meet the stagecoach.
Tall, blond, and broad shouldered under a brown suit, the handsome man carried a little girl with blond curls and a pretty pink dress and bonnet. Four boys, with varying shades of blond and brown, slicked back hair, followed behind him. With clean faces, and wearing church clothes, they resembled chicks trailing a mother hen.
Angel tried to smile, fought the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her stomach clenched, and her hand rose slowly to her throat. She fisted the cloth reticule in her other hand until the whole thing was a wrinkled mess, much like the rest of her.
Passengers alighted from the stagecoach. Nate breathed a sigh of relief when a pudgy woman, carrying a knitting bag, waved to a young woman, holding an infant in her arms, and two toddlers clinging to her skirts. For a moment, he thought she was Angel. A huge man followed, who wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. Several moments passed, then a young woman put her foot on the step of the coach, and accepted the hand of the driver.
From what he could see, she could have been pretty, but it was hard to say. As he approached, he noted her appealing figure, but other than that, she was a mess. Her hair hung down in clumps from her bun. A hat, which had apparently been through hard times, teetered on her head like a squashed doughnut. The dress she wore was stained and dirty, gaping at the waist. Her entire body was covered with a fine coating of road dust. He stopped in front of her. Sweat ran down from her temples, leaving tracks of white skin against the dirt.
“Angelina?”
“Yes,” she stammered, “I’m Angel.”
“Papa.” Luke tugged on Nate’s arm. “Is our new mama a hooligan or a no-account?”
Angel’s eyes darted from side to side, then she looked directly at him, grabbed her middle, and threw up.
“Papa!” John shouted and jumped back, banging into Nate. Startled, Julia-Rose wailed at the top of her lungs.
“I told you I don’t want no gol-darned new mama,” Mark yelled as he turned and ran back toward the post office.
Angel buried her head in her hands and cried.
Nate looked helplessly around with a screaming daughter in his arms and a distraught bride-to-be wailing in front of him.
Heaven help me, please. Now what?
He dragged his hand down his face, then breathed a sigh of relief as Mrs. Darby stepped out of the mercantile. She bustled over to the distraught family, immediately taking charge.
“Nate, is this the new bride?” She took the crying Julia-Rose out of his arms.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “This is Angel. I mean Miss Angelina Hardwick.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” She shifted the baby and caught Angel by the arm. “I’m Mrs. Darby. Come with me into the mercantile and we’ll get you all cleaned up.”
Nate looked at the mess on the bottom of his pants and shoes. He shrugged and walked to the horse trough in front of the saloon, then tried his best to clean up with his handkerchief.
The twins rolled on the ground, holding their throats, making gagging noises. Matt had gone after his brother, who headed in the direction of home. Well, that was a promising start.
With the family scattered and his bride swept away, a quick beer was definitely in order.
“Luke, you and your brother get off the ground.” He walked over to their rolling bodies and hauled John up by his collar. “You two go with Mrs. Darby.”
Assured his sons were safe in the mercantile, he ducked into the saloon. Several men stood at the bar, scarred work boots resting on the metal railing that ran along the bottom. Nate nodded to the ones who turned in his direction and leaned on the bar, raising two fingers to the bartender.
“What happened out there, Nate?” The bartender slapped a cold glass of foamy amber liquid in front of him.
He gulped the beer and slid the glass over for a refill. “My new bride arrived.”
“Good luck.” The bartender placed the refill on the counter, and walked away, whistling a nameless tune.
Nate took the beer from the bar and wandered over to a table near the large window, with a good view of the street. Too late to have second thoughts. Angel looked a wreck, and there’d been clear terror in her eyes right before she let loose at his feet. Hopefully it was just nerves and there wasn’t something wrong with the woman. He sighed, and downed the rest of his drink. A glance at the dark clouds overhead told him a storm brewed. It was time to get everyone gathered up and back home.
Angel followed Mrs. Darby through the front door of the mercantile and down the tight passageway, past shelves of food and clothes, and barrels of pickles, flour and sugar, directly to the back of the store.
“Gertrude Stevenson, come on out here and help us.” The strength of the woman’s voice caused several customers in the store to stare in their direction.