Whisper To Me In The Dark

100

Whisper To Me In The Dark

Chapter 1

6 a.m. October 2, 1898  Worthington’s Restaurant

If God had created a man better looking than the one that sat before her  she could not imagine it. The buttons on his grey shirt strained against his massive chest as he leaned over to take a drink of his coffee. His bulging biceps pulled at his leather vest with every sip. Black wavy hair, slicked back, was tinged with a tiny bit of grey at the temples, just enough to give him a distinguished look. His eyes were so dark as to appear almost black, giving him an aura of mystery or maybe it was  danger. She liked that. She could use a little danger … And a deep scar that ran along his square jaw accentuated his virile, masculine face.

Angelica propped herself up on her elbows at the counter, dreamily staring at his handsome face, lost somewhere in her fantasies.

Soon she'd be done waitressing. She'd be off to Boston! To new adventures! To freedom!  No more dreary work dresses. She’d be covered from head to toe in diamonds – well maybe not diamonds – but anything sparkly would do.  The beautiful jewels would glimmer as she danced ... Dreamily spinning around, she picked up a delicate china tea cup and started to put it back into the cupboard before realizing it was another she'd have to wash before leaving that morning. Thankfully all seemed quiet today. There were only two people in the restaurant. Soon she’d be free of this one horse town!

"Sugar?" was the question that came from the perturbed man with the now sullen face hidden under the black cowboy hat.  "Honey?" was the even more impatient request that then tumbled from his lips.

The happy fog that enveloped Angelica's morning suddenly lifted. "Yes," came her embarrassed replied when she realized she'd been completely ignoring the customers.

"Not honey, YOU or sugar YOU. I need some sugar. Some honey. For my coffee. My breakfast. You know. F - O - O - D." The sarcastic tone in his voice could not be missed and he definitely wasn't trying to hide it. "You're a waitress, aren't you? Now do some waiting on me."

Wow did that lift her happy fog and she was even more embarrassed thinking that this dark stranger was calling her "sugar" and "honey." Her cheeks blushed a crimson red as she tried to fan herself with her perfect little hands, so delicate and porcelain white even with all of the hard work she'd done each day. Well she would not let it ruin her day.  She'd get him his stupid sugar and honey. Get him out of the restaurant as soon as she could and finally be free!

The exotic stranger slowly looked her up and down sending shivers down her spine. For a split second, when  Angelica looked deep into his eyes, she sensed a true goodness inside him. But for the life of her she couldn't imagine where any goodness would reside in this unpleasant man. It must have been the shiny deputy’s star that hung loosely from his  vest that gave him an air of decency – as it was a trait that he apparently did not hold himself.

"Come on darling. Hurry up. I've got some prisoners that are serving a life sentence and I'd like to finish my breakfast before they get out."

Angelica bit her lip and sucked in her breath, just trying to get though her last day in hell. She couldn't imagine what had put this now annoying stranger in such a mood. By looking at him he seemed pleasant enough. Even more than good looking she had to admit. Strikingly handsome bordering on gorgeous but in a completely virile, raw, manly way - not something you see every day around this one horse - one restaurant - one store town. She'd normally spend her days waiting on pleasant, but horse faced men, with their black or missing teeth, their scraggly beards, and their skinny bodies, but at least they had pleasant personalities. Apparently good looking equals self centered jerk. Though, she did have to admit, he was gorgeous ... Now if he could only buy some charm. He was exotic looking - either Italian or Native American or maybe French. Whichever, he was gorgeous. Ok ... she'd said that already, hadn't she?

Angelica splashed her face with cool water, trying to clear her strangely cluttered mind. Back to work. Back to Mr. Annoying.

"Dello zucchero? Io ho fame."

"Sorry?" Angelica replied, completely confused, as he was just speaking perfect English a moment ago.

The perturbed man said, "I'm hungry and I want some sugar. I was starting to wonder if you understood English so I thought I'd try another language."

Angelica gave him her best sarcastic grin and spun around, looking for any darn sugar, any darn honey. But there was no stupid sugar, no stupid honey to be found. Where in the world had she put them? Nineteen years old was a little young to be getting senile and his constant watchful eye and irritating presence were unnerving her.

She was so exhausted from working so hard and desperately trying to hold it together, she ran back and forth between tables, her long skirt flowing behind her, suddenly catching on the rickety chair, giving the whole room a little more of a peek into her lingerie than she had planned. The previously quiet room was suddenly filled with clapping men, cheering and hooting, screaming and leering.

"Dinner and a show? If only I had known I would have arrived earlier," chuckled the now very amused deputy.

Mortified, Angelica, grabbed her skirt and ran back into the kitchen, trying to choke back her tears. What a start to her perfect dreams this day was turning out to be.

"What a wretched man! What a perfectly horrible, wretched man," Angelica whispered under her breath. "Just hold it together. Just one more hour and I'll be rid of people like that. Small minded, rude, obnoxious ..."

A wave of guilt quickly, washed over the deputy. If he had one fault it was always going too far. Never knowing when to quit. He stood up to his full six foot height, brushed off his jeans, which would  have been covered with crumbs, if she had actually served him anything that is, and sauntered back to the kitchen, still trying to suppress a laugh.

Angelica sat in the corner, curled in a ball, holding her skirt together with her shaking hands. Looking up to see her assailant walking casually towards her she cried, "You horrible man. You wretched horrible man! Just leave me alone."

"Come on. I was just kidding. Just calm down. No harm done." He patted her lightly on the shoulder.

"No harm done? Look at my skirt. It was my best one. How could you?" Tears poured down her face, blurring her sparkling eyes. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the honey. The sugar. The two items that were apparently the center of the universe for this awful stranger. Pulling herself up to her full five foot two height, she stepped on the chair propped against the cupboard and eyed the two condiments, as a light turned on in her mind. "Here is your precious sugar. Here is your precious honey." As she poured each on top of his formerly clean cowboy hat, creating a sticky mess that soon dripped slowly down his handsome face.

Seeing him standing there, his mouth agape, a sticky mixture of honey and sugar dripping down his shiny vest, his shiny deputy's star, was worth all she had just gone through.

Speechless was not a word that could adequately describe the dashing stranger.

Angelica winked, smiled, and curtsied. "I hope you'll be leaving me a tip for my service."

After  the initial shock wore off, he laughed. He laughed harder than he'd laughed in years, as he took the walk of shame out the front door of the restaurant, into the dusty street, breathing in the cool, crisp air, and looking for a water trough to wash his hat in. He had to admit that he admired her spark, her "gioia di vivere." Too bad she hated him. He could have had some fun with a girl like that.

Chapter 2

8 a.m.  October 28, 1898 – Worthington’s Parlor

"If you think I'm going to act as babysitter to that damn child you are very mistaken."

"She's not a child. She's nearly twenty and about to become my bride,"  Edward retorted, "and I'm not asking you to be her babysitter. I'm only asking you to make sure she gets to Boston safely. I'll be along soon after -  within weeks. Just wait until you meet her."

"Nineteen? Isn't that a little young for you? Can't find a woman your own age? Hmm? Got to find a woman so young that she has no clue how really wrong she is for you? What you're really like? What a damn fool you are?" Cash laughed haughtily as he stared at his brother nervously pacing the parlor floor. "You do recall that you're thirty-five, don't you?"

"Yes, I recall." Edward huffed, "One year younger than you. As I remember." Edward  stared vaguely out the window, drumming his fingers on the cool pane of glass. "And as I recall I've seen you with quite a few women that age. But I guess that doesn't count when you're paying them, does it?"

A broad smile broke across Cash's formerly glowering face. "Ha. I guess you've got me there. Well not everyone can be a millionaire and have women throwing themselves at them for that exact reason, can they? Some of us have to work for a living. And I like to spread my money around. Those 'type’ of women have to make money too." Cash continued to grin, showing off his strong white teeth and deep dimples and continued, "and I like to do my part. At least
they
have a vocation."

Exasperated with his brother's flippant remarks, Edward retorted, "I don't know why you spend so much time associating with those low life common women. The dance hall girls. Those ladies of the evening. High class women are constantly throwing themselves at you. And obviously it's not for your money. You could associate yourself with a better class of ladies."

"I’ll let you in on a secret, little brother. Let me tell you - in the dark those so called high class women have done the exact same things to me that I've paid those so called 'ladies of the evening' for. And they've done it for free. So don't get all high and mighty with me about the class of women that I associate with."

Cash stretched lazily in the huge chair, seemingly without a care in the world. Edward, on the other hand, continued his nervous pacing, absentmindedly running his thin fingers back and forth through his equally thinning hair.

No two brothers could be more opposites. Cash, tall, strong, dark and exotically handsome. He was dashing, debonair and dangerous. Edward, short, blonde and skinny with freckles. A pasty faced coward who hid behind his money. As to a question about their lineage no one dared venture a guess.

Edward peered oddly at Cash's hat, which he'd thrown to the floor, a squished, wet, sticky mess, forming little puddles on Edward's expensive carpet. "What in the world happened to your hat?" His eyes began to bug out more than usual when he noticed the trickles of water forming intricate pools on the floor.

Never one to be ruffled, Cash simply said, "Just a run in with a filly I couldn't tame - that's all. Don't worry - I'll break her."

"Your obsession with riding horses baffles me, dear brother," Edward sighed.

"Horses. Yeah, right," Cash laughed, a deep baritone laugh, which came from deep inside of him.  "That's not the type of filly I'm talking about." But Edward was already back deep in thought, ignoring Cash's reply.

Cash quietly mulled over his most recent conquests. Mary, Beth, Elle, Sara.  Or was it Sandra? So many women. So little time to find out their names . . . All so called "high class ladies" as Edward would refer to them. Those were just the married ones. They always liked to resist a little. Fight back a little. It seemed to ease their guilty conscience for cheating on their husbands. But they were all back the next week. Knocking on the door with their dainty white gloves, begging Cash for more. Wearing their expensive lace dresses from Paris. An aura of elegance as they walked. But they didn't seem to mind what happened to their expensive Paris dresses as Cash's hot body was pressed on top of them - when he was deep inside of them - as he was ripping these dresses off their voluptuous bodies. His favorite moment was when they surrendered, body and soul to him. If truth be told - mostly body ... He prided himself on being able to tame any one of them. They
always
surrendered to his desires.

Cash snapped out of his happy haze of memories to notice that Edward was still staring intently out of the window - still nervously drumming his fingers and looking especially frail. Cash figured he'd better stop his brotherly kidding and see what was really going on.

Before the opportunity presented itself, a beautiful, tiny blonde flurry of activity ran through the open door, like a hummingbird in perpetual flight, spun around and squealed, "Edward!"

Edward beamed proudly, grasped her graceful hand and placed it protectively in his, turned to Cash and said, "May I present, Angelica, my bride to be."

Cash remained frozen in his seat, unmoving, unblinking, and completely unnerving Edward by his lack of reaction. "Son of a ..." was the barely intelligible response that he could get out.

Angelica stood perfectly still, equally stunned into silence.

Suddenly a knock came from the front door and Edward left quickly, still lost in thought and oblivious to the scene going on between Cash and Angelica in the parlor.

With her face flushed and her heart pounding, Angelica desperately tried to compose herself. "Please, please don't tell Edward what I did. He'd be mortified."

“
If you think I’m going to let you pull one over on my brother you are very mistaken, little girl. He and I may not get along but he’s still my brother and I’m not letting a gold digger like you use him.”