didn’t seem to matter to any of the men. All they saw was her beauty, a flawless veil wrapped around a frozen heart, and they were enthralled. They looked into her angel eyes and were lost.
She was not fooled by their endless declarations of love. They wanted her in the same way they wanted the gold in the streams. They lusted for her. They fought for the chance to be with her. They scrambled, grappled, gambled, and grabbed—and everything they had was spent without thought or consideration. They paid to become enslaved. She gave them what they thought was heaven and consigned them to hell.
What did it matter? She had nothing left. She didn’t care. An even stronger force than the hatred that feasted on her was the weariness that sucked her soul dry. At eighteen, she was tired of living and resigned to the fact that nothing would ever change. She wondered why she had even been born. For this, she supposed. Take it or leave it. God’s truth. And the only way to leave it was to kill herself. Every time she faced that fact, every time she had the chance, her courage failed.
Her only friend was a tired old harlot named Lucky, who was running to fat because of her thirst for brandy. Yet even Lucky knew nothing of where Angel had come from or been, or what had happened to make her the way she was. The other prostitutes thought of her as invulnerable. They all wondered about her, but they never asked questions. Angel made it clearly understood from the beginning that the past was sacred ground no one walked over. Except for Lucky, dumb-drunk Lucky for whom Angel held a fond-ness.
Lucky spent her off time deep in her cups. “You gotta have plans, Angel.
You gotta hope for something in this world.”
“Hope for what?”
“You can’t get by any other way.”
“I get by just fine.”
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“How?”
“I don’t look back, and I don’t look forward.”
“What about now? You gotta think about now, Angel.”
Angel smiled faintly and brushed her long, golden hair. “Now doesn’t exist.”
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Two
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
B Y R O N
Michael Hosea was unloading crates of vegetables from the back of his buckboard when he saw a beautiful young woman walking along the street.
She was dressed in black, like a widow, and a big, rough-looking man with a gun on his hip was at her side. All along Main Street, men stopped what they were doing, took off their hats, and watched her. She said not a word to anyone. She looked neither to the right nor the left. She moved with simple, fluid grace, her shoulders straight, her head held high.
Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart beat faster and faster as she came near. He willed her to look at him, but she didn’t. He let out his breath after she passed him, not even aware that he had been holding it.
This one, beloved.
Michael felt a rush of adrenaline mingled with joy. Lord. Lord!
“Something, ain’t she?” Joseph Hochschild said. The burly storekeeper held a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and grinned. “That’s Angel.
Prettiest girl west of the Rockies and most likely prettiest east of the Rockies, too.” He went up the steps into his store.
Michael shouldered a barrel of apples. “What do you know about her?”
“No more than anyone else, I guess. She takes long walks. It’s a habit of hers. Does it every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon about this 53
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same time.” He nodded toward the men along the street. “They all come to watch her.”
“Who’s the man with her?” A dismal thought occurred to him. “Her husband?”
“Husband?” He laughed. “More like a bodyguard. His name’s
She was not fooled by their endless declarations of love. They wanted her in the same way they wanted the gold in the streams. They lusted for her. They fought for the chance to be with her. They scrambled, grappled, gambled, and grabbed—and everything they had was spent without thought or consideration. They paid to become enslaved. She gave them what they thought was heaven and consigned them to hell.
What did it matter? She had nothing left. She didn’t care. An even stronger force than the hatred that feasted on her was the weariness that sucked her soul dry. At eighteen, she was tired of living and resigned to the fact that nothing would ever change. She wondered why she had even been born. For this, she supposed. Take it or leave it. God’s truth. And the only way to leave it was to kill herself. Every time she faced that fact, every time she had the chance, her courage failed.
Her only friend was a tired old harlot named Lucky, who was running to fat because of her thirst for brandy. Yet even Lucky knew nothing of where Angel had come from or been, or what had happened to make her the way she was. The other prostitutes thought of her as invulnerable. They all wondered about her, but they never asked questions. Angel made it clearly understood from the beginning that the past was sacred ground no one walked over. Except for Lucky, dumb-drunk Lucky for whom Angel held a fond-ness.
Lucky spent her off time deep in her cups. “You gotta have plans, Angel.
You gotta hope for something in this world.”
“Hope for what?”
“You can’t get by any other way.”
“I get by just fine.”
50
Redeem.01 7/31/07 11:13 AM Page 51
F
R
A
N
C
I
N
E
R
I
V
E
R
S
“How?”
“I don’t look back, and I don’t look forward.”
“What about now? You gotta think about now, Angel.”
Angel smiled faintly and brushed her long, golden hair. “Now doesn’t exist.”
51
Redeem.01 7/31/07 11:13 AM Page 52
Redeem.02 7/25/07 5:08 PM Page 53
Two
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
B Y R O N
Michael Hosea was unloading crates of vegetables from the back of his buckboard when he saw a beautiful young woman walking along the street.
She was dressed in black, like a widow, and a big, rough-looking man with a gun on his hip was at her side. All along Main Street, men stopped what they were doing, took off their hats, and watched her. She said not a word to anyone. She looked neither to the right nor the left. She moved with simple, fluid grace, her shoulders straight, her head held high.
Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart beat faster and faster as she came near. He willed her to look at him, but she didn’t. He let out his breath after she passed him, not even aware that he had been holding it.
This one, beloved.
Michael felt a rush of adrenaline mingled with joy. Lord. Lord!
“Something, ain’t she?” Joseph Hochschild said. The burly storekeeper held a sack of potatoes over his shoulder and grinned. “That’s Angel.
Prettiest girl west of the Rockies and most likely prettiest east of the Rockies, too.” He went up the steps into his store.
Michael shouldered a barrel of apples. “What do you know about her?”
“No more than anyone else, I guess. She takes long walks. It’s a habit of hers. Does it every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon about this 53
Redeem.02 7/25/07 5:08 PM Page 54
R
E
D
E
E
M
I
N
G
L
O
V
E
same time.” He nodded toward the men along the street. “They all come to watch her.”
“Who’s the man with her?” A dismal thought occurred to him. “Her husband?”
“Husband?” He laughed. “More like a bodyguard. His name’s
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