Restless Heart Read online

  Restless Heart

  BETH WILLIAMSON

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Heart series

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  ‡

  October, 1872

  She should be dead. Only minutes ago, a man had her on the ground with a gun pressed to her temple. It was only through sheer luck and her sister Eliza’s aim with a rock that she had survived.

  Angeline hung onto the horse’s mane as they galloped through the night back into town. She shook so hard her teeth hurt from banging together. She was weeks away from being eighteen, and she felt as if she had aged ten years in the last ten minutes.

  She had never expected Josiah to send someone after them, not really. The very idea he would spend money to chase them just didn’t make sense. Angeline had underestimated him, but she never would again.

  The cool night air stung her face, but Angeline kept going as fast as she could. Her breath puffed out in white clouds along with Cab’s. The gelding was older than dirt, but he had a young heart and a strong spirit. Thank God Eliza had given him to Angeline to escape or she’d be running through the dew-covered grass on her own.

  The memory of having the gun pressed to her temple made Angeline’s stomach lurch, and she leaned to the side to vomit. She had nothing in her stomach, but she kept spasming until she was tasting bile. She had never been so frightened in her life, not even when she’d run away in the middle of the night two months earlier.

  Then, she’d been driven by the need to escape, to protect herself and survive. Now, it was more like she was an outlaw, a rogue with a bounty on her head. So far beyond her imaginings, it was as if she’d stepped into another world.

  By the time she made it back to Bowson, she had regained some self-control back, enough to sneak upstairs at the boarding house to pack. She packed everything into the two small traveling bags and went back down the stairs without anyone seeing her. It took two tries before she secured the bags to the saddle horn and even longer to actually get up on the horse again.

  Angeline swallowed back a sob that threatened and made her way back to the restaurant. Just an hour earlier, she’d been serving supper to customers. Now, she was dirty, shaking, and running off in the night again. She had sunk so low she could barely see beyond her own misery. Eliza had given her another chance to survive, and it was up to her to seize the opportunity instead of waste it.

  It was time to live instead of simply exist.

  Angeline took a deep breath and dismounted behind the restaurant. She secured Cab to a crate, hoping he wouldn’t wander away and went in the back door. The cook, an older woman names Mrs. Benson, had her back to the door. Angeline was able to creep past her and open the kitchen door. She spotted Lettie near the window just setting down two plates with apple pie.

  She gestured to her friend, and Lettie’s mouth dropped open. The older brunette made her way quickly to Angeline.

  “What happened? Where have you been?” Lettie was still talking when Angeline pulled her out the back door, just barely grabbing their coats from the hooks on the wall. “Angeline, what are you doing?”

  “We’ve got to leave now.” Angeline felt better after she slipped her coat on, even if it wasn’t particularly warm. She’d nearly frozen on the wild ride through the woods.

  “Why? What’s happening?” Lettie was asking questions, but she was putting on her coat as she did so.

  “There was a man here. He took me out to the woods and tried to kill me.” Angeline shivered from the cold rather than from fear. “Eliza stopped him and helped me get away.”

  “Your sister is here?” Lettie looked around the dark alley.

  “No, she’s with him, the man who tried to kill me. I can’t explain now, but believe me, we need to go.” Angeline walked over to Cab who was still standing where she’d left him. “She even gave me transportation.”

  Lettie was right on Angeline’s heels, whispering fiercely in the darkness. “Transportation? That is the oldest horse I’ve ever seen.”

  “He’s got a good heart, and he helped save my life. Now, let’s get on him and get out of here.” Angeline felt stronger than she had in a very long time. Perhaps the brush with death had reminded her why she’d left Tolson in the first place.

  “I hope he makes it to the next town.” Lettie asked no more questions, which was a blessing because Angeline just wanted to leave.

  With a little bit of effort, they both got up on Cab’s back. As quietly as possible, they made their way around the back of the buildings until they reached the outskirts of town. When they reached open range, Angeline kneed Cab into a faster pace. They had only their determination, their fear, and the moonlight to guide them to the velvety blackness of the Utah night.

  Chapter One

  ‡

  April, 1873

  Angeline Hunter lived a lie each moment of each day. She endured the guilt because she had no other choice. It wasn’t as if she could simply forget everything she’d escaped, or announce to the world just who she really was. No, she had made a choice, and there was no going back.

  She refused to feel sorry for herself, after all she was alive and free.

  Her day started before dawn in the kitchen of the restaurant. It was an exceptionally cold spring day, and she was glad to be in the warm kitchen making biscuits.

  She put the pan of biscuits in the stove and tucked two more pieces of wood into its big belly. The first pot of coffee just finished burbling, so she poured cool water in to settle the grounds, then sneaked a cup. As she sipped at the brew, she enjoyed a few moments of peace before the rush of the morning customers.

  The back door slammed, and Angeline nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Mornin’, Miss Angeline.”

  She turned to see ten-year-old Dennis Fox step into the kitchen with a bucket of wood for the stove. His mother, Karen, was a waitress at the restaurant. She always made sure he helped out everyone who worked at the Blue Plate. He was a good boy, a hard worker who seemed to get things done before anyone even had to ask him.

  “Good morning, Dennis. Thank you for the wood. We’ll definitely need it.” She wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug, trying to absorb as much heat from it as she could.

  “Frost was thick this morning.” Dennis set the bucket beside the stove and held his chapped hands up to the heat pouring off it. “I fed your horse at the livery. Made sure his water wasn’t froze, too.”

  “Thank you, Dennis.” The old horse had saved her life, and now he spent his days at the livery, napping and munching on oats. She went to see Cab daily in the evenings to give him a treat, even if it was a little sugar or half an apple.

  Angeline looked out the tiny window above the sink, but the glass was fogged from the warmth of the kitchen. She lived above the restaurant in a room just large enough for a bed and a box upended to keep a light nearby. Lucky for her, she didn’t go outside in the cold too much except to visit Cab. Hopefully, spring was around the corner. There had been a few warm days, but then winter had reared its ugly head again.

  Dennis set a paper-wrapped package on the table. “Somebody asked me to give you this.” With a little grin, he was out the backdoor before she could ask him an
y questions.

  She stared at the package, wondering who had given it to him and why. It had been six months since they had arrived in the small town of Forestville. Angeline had taken her sister Eliza’s advice and never gave anyone too much information about herself. She even dropped the last name Brown and kept the name she was born with, Hunter.

  Angeline needed to make another batch of biscuit dough, but the package aroused her curiosity. Her father had always called her curiosity a sin, something to be ashamed of. That thought alone made her pick up the package and untie the twine.

  She peeled the paper back and peered inside. It was a book. Angeline stared at it, as if she couldn’t believe someone had given her a book. The title read Sense and Sensibility. She’d never heard of it, but judging by the condition, it was brand new. Since she’d left home, she had discovered the joy of reading books and had become a voracious reader. This was the first new book she’d ever held.

  “What do you have there, child?” Marta Gunderson, who ran the Blue Plate with her husband Pieter, came into the kitchen with a bowl of eggs for breakfast. She was a German immigrant, who was an amazing cook and a wonderful person. Along with her husband, she had blond hair, a huge heart, and made the restaurant feel like family. Angeline knew she’d been lucky to find a job and a home with them.

  “A book.” Angeline smiled at her boss. “Dennis brought it to me wrapped in paper. He said someone had given it to him. It’s a bit of a mystery.”

  “You don’t know who gave it to you.” Marta peered at it. “That is mysterious. It looks new.”

  “I think it is new.” Angeline felt the cover and ran her fingers along the spine. “It’s a lovely gift.”

  “Well, maybe you have an admirer.” Marta smiled. “You’re a beautiful girl, Angeline. I’m sure more than one young man in town has an eye on you, wanting to court you.”

  Angeline’s face flushed at the mention of the young men in town. She couldn’t possibly accept any man courting her, and Marta couldn’t know why. “I’m not interested in young men courting me, Marta.”

  “Of course, you are. You should get married and have babies.” Marta patted her cheek. “Love, that’s what you need, child.”

  The book, which had been a lovely, unexpected gift, now represented the lack of possibility in her future. Angeline couldn’t accept it now because if Marta was right; it was a gift from a young man who was wasting his time. She set the book in the corner on the stool.

  Angeline could never marry because she was already married, and there was no love in her future.

  The morning passed quickly with a steady stream of customers. Angeline and Marta cooked side by side as they had each day since her arrival in Forestville. It was an easy partnership, with the older woman concocting her delicious recipes at the stove while Angeline chopped vegetables and potatoes, and made all the baked goods.

  By ten o’clock, they were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee with Lettie, Karen, and Alice Peters, the waitresses. It had become a ritual for the five of them to spend time together between the meals. Pieter avoided the kitchen during those times, claiming a rooster didn’t belong with the hens.

  “Did you hear someone gave Angeline a gift?” Karen, a dark-haired plump woman who’d been widowed during the war, smiled at Angeline.

  “Go on. Who gave you a gift?” Alice sat up, her brown eyes full of interest. A twenty-year-old with a pretty smile and curly brown hair, she was the favorite of most of the young men who visited the restaurant.

  “I don’t know.” Angeline shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because I can’t accept it.”

  “What? Of course, you can. What was it?” Alice looked around the kitchen.

  “It was a book—a new one, too.” Marta nodded sagely. “I think it’s very sweet.”

  “Maybe it was a mistake.” Angeline wanted the conversation to be over. She didn’t want to have to explain why.

  “Oh, I don’t think it was a mistake. My Dennis told me a man stopped him outside the restaurant and specifically told him to give the package to Angeline, the blond angel in the kitchen.”

  Cold fear crept into her stomach. She had escaped from the first man who had hunted her only because of her sister’s help. Now, there was no one to rescue her but herself. After Karen’s description of the man who’d given Dennis the package, Angeline’s instincts were screaming for her to run, to leave Forestville. Immediately.

  She got to her feet, unable to sit there any longer. Perhaps one day she might find a place where she could be safe from Josiah, but it appeared it wasn’t Forestville.

  “Don’t be afraid, Angeline. You look as white as a sheet.” Karen patted her hand. “It was Samuel Carver, the man who does carpenter work around town. He eats here every day and has taken a shine to Angeline.”

  Samuel Carver. She didn’t even know who that was, much less whether he was a threat or not.

  “Who is he?” Angeline was proud of the fact her voice didn’t shake.

  “His father runs the newspaper. Michael is an educated man who was devoted to his late wife. Samuel was just a young man when the war started, and he enlisted.” Marta shook her head. “Poor boy looked like a skeleton in rags when he came back.”

  Angeline, despite her initial fear, was caught up in Samuel’s story. “What happened?”

  “He left an eager boy of eighteen and came back a man much older than twenty-two. Quiet, stand-offish even. He bought some supplies here and there, until he had himself a set of tools, and worked with wood, fixing things, making furniture.” Marta patted Angeline’s hand. “It seems as though it took a few years, but he’s set his sights on a pretty girl to court.”

  “I don’t want him to court me.” She turned toward the sink, eager to change the subject. Even if the man was a long-time resident, a man with ambition, she wanted nothing to do with him.

  “If she doesn’t want attention from a man, then we need to respect that.” Lettie met her gaze, understanding clear in her brown eyes. The two of them had a secret no one knew.

  “Well, give the man a chance, Angeline.” Karen slurped her coffee noisily, a habit that annoyed even her friends. “He’s actually quite handsome.”

  Alice nodded. “Yes, he is handsome, for a half-breed. His mama was an Indian, you know. But he does have good hair and teeth, which are important. Plus, his father educated him, so he’s a smart half-breed.” She sat prim and proper at the table, speaking of Samuel as if he were a horse up for auction. “It wouldn’t be so bad to have him as a beau, since you don’t have any family and all.”

  Half-breed? Angeline didn’t even know what that meant, but given Alice’s snide comments, it couldn’t be good. Honestly, it didn’t matter if this man was rich and had a big house, she didn’t want to have anything to do with any man. Ever.

  “None of that matters to me. I don’t want to have a beau. I’d like to be left alone.” Angeline washed her mug by rote, not really seeing it. She was desperately trying to keep her memories at bay, but the darkness pulsed behind the locked door within her.

  Be strong.

  “Oh, Angeline, you can’t mean that. No one wants to work here unless they have to.” Karen sounded sad and angry at the same time. “I would take him if he wasn’t younger than me.”

  “You can’t be that choosy, you know. The men in this area aren’t all men you’d bring home to meet your mama.” Alice joined in. “And like I said, for a half-breed he’s—”

  “Enough.” Lettie rose, her chair scraping across the floor. “Let her be. She doesn’t want a husband, a sweetheart, or gifts. Perhaps you all need to mind your business.”

  The silence in the kitchen was palpable, charged with emotion Angeline didn’t want to deal with. She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped out the back door for fresh air. It didn’t matter if it was frigid outside, she couldn’t bear to be in there another moment.

  She walked down the street to the livery in rapid staccato steps. Seeing Cab always
relaxed her and damned if her belly wasn’t tied up in knots. The old gelding poked his head out of the stall as soon as she stepped into the barn. He pushed against her, eager for a treat.

  As she stroked his neck, she silently apologized for not having something for him. He was there for her and provided comfort others wouldn’t understand. Cab was the real angel, the horse who flew through the night as though he had wings, giving her another chance at life.

  Tears pricked her closed lids as she found a measure of peace in the dusty barn. She would have to give the book back. There was no other choice.

  Samuel Carver leaned over the old printing press and tried to pry the paper from its maw. Damn thing was older than Methuselah and regularly ate the precious newsprint. If he had some money, he’d buy replacement parts for his father, but publishing a newspaper brought in only enough to scrape by.

  Without warning, the paper came free and he careened backwards with it clutched in his hand. He landed on the table behind him with a thud. Sam closed his eyes and counted to ten, his hand massaging the pain from the fall.

  “Are you all right?” His father stood there with a cup of coffee, his salt and pepper hair in disarray, glasses perched on his forehead. His bright blue eyes were full of concern, and for the first time that morning, lucid and focused.

  “I’m fine, just fighting with the monster again this morning.” Sam held up the crumpled paper in his fist. “Ate more newsprint already today.”

  “My apologies. I went to get coffee, and it was running just fine.” Michael Carver had a brilliant mind, he’d been an excellent teacher, writer, and father. Something had started stealing bits and pieces of that mind, leaving him with holes in his memory and his abilities. Sam had hidden his father’s decline from most everyone, but eventually, they would know.

  It was a delicate balance to keep up every day without making his father panic or get insulted. Sam was exhausted from the effort, and the press getting stuck simply notched his frustration level too high.