“I’ll do anything for you, Michael. Anything.”
And suddenly he knew what she was doing. She was saying good-bye, just as she had the last time. She was deadening his mind with physical pleasure.
When she came close again, Michael caught hold of her. “Why are you doing this?”
“For you,” she said, pulling his head down and kissing him.
Digging his fingers into her hair, he slanted his mouth across hers. He wanted to consume her. Her hands were like flame on his body.
God, I won’t let her go again. I can’t!
She moved against him, and he had no thought except for her, and it was not enough.
God, why are you doing this to me again? Do you give only to take away?
“Michael, Michael,” she breathed, and he tasted the saltiness of his own tears on her cheeks.
“You need me.” He could see her moonlit face. “You need me. Say it, Tirzah. Say it.”
Let her go, beloved.
God, no! Don’t ask it of me!
Give her to me.
No!
They clung to one another, seeking solace in sweet oblivion. But sweet oblivion doesn’t last.
Michael held her tightly when it passed away. He tried to hold onto all of it, but they were two separate beings again. He had not the strength to hold them together forever.
She was trembling violently, whether from cold or spent passion he didn’t know. He didn’t ask. He drew the quilt around them both and still felt her resolve like a raw wound.
It was growing colder, and they needed to return. They dressed in silence, both tormented, both pretending not to be. She came to him again and put her arms around his waist, pressing herself against him as a child would, looking for comfort.
He closed his eyes against the fear uncurling in the pit of his stomach. I love her, Lord. I can’t give her up.
Michael, beloved. Would you have her hang on her cross forever?
Michael let out a shuddering sigh. When she lifted her face, he saw something in it that made him want to weep. She loved him. She really loved him. And yet, there was something else in her moonlit face. A haunting sadness he couldn’t take away, an emptiness he could never fill. He remembered her anguished words on the night Benjamin was born. “I wish I was whole!” He couldn’t make her so.
Lifting her, he held her cradled in his arms. She put her arm around his neck and kissed him. He closed his eyes. Lord, if I give her up to you now, will you ever give her back to me?
No answer came.
Lord, please!
The wind stirred softly, but there was only silence.
Angel walked out to the barn with Michael the next morning and watched him saddle his horse. “When do you expect to be back?”
He glanced back at her enigmatically. “As soon as I can.” Leading the horse out of the stall, he put his arm around her shoulders. She smiled up at him. Stopping, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back, making the most of the last opportunity she would ever have. When Michael’s fingers dug into her shoulders painfully, she was surprised. “I love you,” he said roughly. “I will always love you.”
She wondered at his vehemence and touched his face tenderly. “Take care of yourself.”
He didn’t smile. “You do likewise.” He mounted and rode away. She didn’t go back into the house until he disappeared over the hill.
She wasn’t going to leave until everything was properly in order. She made the bed, washed the dishes and put them away, and shook out the hearth rug. The flowers were still fresh. She banked the fire so that it would still be going when Michael returned home.
She jumped when someone tapped at the door. It was Miriam. “What are you doing here?” Angel asked in dismay.
Miriam was taken aback. “Weren’t you expecting me?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s odd. Michael came by the house on his way to Paul’s and said this was a good day for a visit.”
Angel turned away and went back to her carpetbag lying open on the bed. She quickly stuffed in one of Michael’s shirts and then folded a dress on top of it. Miriam watched her. “Michael didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.”
“He doesn’t know.” She snapped the bag shut and lifted it. “I’m leaving him, Miriam.”
“What?” Miriam said, looking at her as though she had sprouted horns. “Again?”
“I’m leaving him for good this time.”
“But why?”
“Because I have to.” Angel looked around the cabin one last time. She had been happy here, but that didn’t mean she should stay. She went quietly out the door.
Miriam came after her. “Wait!” She kept pace as Angel headed for the hills. “Amanda, I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Just go home, Miriam. Say good-bye to everyone for me.”
“But where will you go?”
“West, east, it doesn’t matter. I haven’t decided.”
“Then why are you in such a hurry? Stay here and talk things over with Michael. Whatever he’s done to make you want to leave—”
Angel couldn’t have her friend believing Michael was in the wrong. “Miriam, Michael has never done a thing wrong in his life.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Angel kept walking, wishing Miriam would give up and leave her alone.
“You love him. I know you do. If you leave without any reason, what’s he going to think?”
Angel knew what he would think. He would believe she had gone back to her old life. Maybe it would be better if he did believe that. It would keep him from looking for her. Only she need know that she would never go back to prostitution. Even if it meant starving to death.
Miriam argued and pleaded all the way to the road and only stopped because she was finally out of breath. Angel paced, looking for the stagecoach. It was just past noon. It should come soon. She couldn’t bear this waiting much longer. Why had Michael told Miriam to come for a visit today of all days?
“I thought Michael was so perfect,” Miriam said miserably, “but he can’t be if you’re running away from him like this.”
“He’s everything he seems and more, Miriam. I swear on my life he’s done nothing to hurt me. He’s done nothing but love me from the beginning, even when I hated the sight of him.”
Miriam’s eyes swam. “Then how can you leave him now?”
“Because I don’t belong with him. I never did.” Seeing that Miriam was going to say even more, she put her hand on the girl’s arm to stop her. “Please. Miriam, I can’t have children. Do you know what that means to a man like him? He wants children. He deserves them. I was ruined for all that long ago.” She struggled with her pain. “I’m begging you, Miriam. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I’m going because it’s best for Michael. Try to understand,” she said brokenly. “Miriam, I have to think of what’s best for him.”
The coach was coming at last. Angel stepped quickly into the road and waved to the driver to stop. As he drew rein on the six horses, she worked the wedding ring off her finger and held it out to Miriam. “Give this back to him for me. It belonged to his mother.”
Tears pouring down her cheeks, Miriam shook her head and wouldn’t take it. Angel reached out and took her hand, put the ring into it, and closed the girl’s fingers around it. Turning away quickly, she handed her carpetbag up to the driver. He began lashing it down with the other cases.
Angel looked at her friend’s pale, distraught face. “You love him, don’t you, Miriam?”
“Yes, I love him. You know I do.” She stepped closer. “You’re wrong to do this. Wrong, Amanda.”
Angel hugged her tightly. “Help me be strong.” She held her a moment longer. “You’re very dear to me.” She let go and stepped quickly up into the coach.
“Don’t go!” Miriam cried, putting her hands on the window opening. The coach started moving.
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Angel looked down at her, fighting against the pain. “You said you loved him, Miriam. Then love him. And give him the children I can’t.”
Miriam let go in shock. Her face went fiery red and then white. “No. Oh, no!” She started running after the coach, but it was picking up speed and not slowing down. “Wait! Amanda, Amanda.”
But it was already too late. Dust swirled back, choking her, and by the time she could run again, the stagecoach was too far down the road for her to catch up. Standing in the middle of the road, she looked at the wedding ring in her hand and burst into tears.
The last thing Paul expected to see when he and Michael rode toward his cabin late that afternoon was Miriam coming out his door. His heart jumped at the sight of her and then bounded around in his chest like a rabbit when she ran toward him. What was Michael going to think about her being here?
But she ran to Michael, not him. Paul’s stomach dropped like a stone. Michael dismounted.
“Amanda’s gone!” Miriam said, her face pale and tear streaked. She was dusty and disheveled. “I’ve been waiting here all day, Michael. I knew you would come by Paul’s first. You’ve got to go after her. She took the morning stage. You have to bring her back!”
Paul stayed on his horse. So Angel was gone again. For all her vows, she had left Michael. Just as he expected. He ought to feel glad about it. When Michael put his hand on Miriam’s shoulder, a hot and completely unexpected surge of jealousy flashed through him.
Michael was pale and strained. “I’m not going after her, Miriam.”
“Have you and Amanda both gone mad?” Miriam cried out, tears welling in her dark eyes. “You don’t understand.…” How could she tell him? Oh, God, what was she to do? She felt Paul watching them and couldn’t tell Michael everything Amanda had said to her in confidence. “You’ve got to go after her. Now! If you don’t, you may never find her again.”
“I’m not going to look for her. Not this time.”
“‘Not this time’?”
“He means he’s gone after her before and it hasn’t done him any good,” Paul said. “She hasn’t changed since the day he met her.”
Miriam turned on him, face livid. “Stay out of this! Go hide in your cabin! Go stick your head in the sand like you always do!”
Paul drew back, shocked by her fury.
Miriam turned back to Michael, clutching the front of his shirt. “Michael, please, go after her before it’s too late.”
He took her hands. “I can’t. Miriam, if she wants to come back, she’ll come back. If she doesn’t, then… she doesn’t.”
Miriam put her hands over her face and wept.
Michael looked up at Paul and saw that he didn’t intend to comfort the girl. Sighing heavily, he took Miriam in his arms. Her whole body was shaking with her sobs.
Paul stared down at them and felt a stab of pain go through his middle. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? This was what he had planned. Hadn’t he been waiting for that witch to leave so Michael would turn to Miriam and have the wife he deserved? So why was it that he had never felt so lonely?
Whatever he had thought he wanted, he couldn’t look at them holding onto one another now. It hurt too much. Turning his horse, he left them alone.
Behold a pale horse:
and his name that sat on him was Death,
and Hell followed him.
REVELATION 6 : 8
San Francisco was no longer a mean little town beside a bay but a city spreading across the windswept hills. Happy Valley was no longer a tent encampment but a community of houses. Many of the ships that had been dragged ashore and turned into stores, saloons, and boardinghouses had burned down. They’d been replaced by frame structures and brick buildings. Planked sidewalks now lined the muddy streets.
The ferryman stood with his face into the wind. “Every time the city burns, they just build her back up better than ever,” he told her as they crossed the bay. He warned her about the brackish water from shallow wells and said she would find better lodgings up the hill away from the docks. Angel was too tired to venture far and ended up in a small hotel on the water.
The smell of the sea and garbage reminded her of the dock shack of her childhood. It seemed a hundred years ago. She had supper in the small dining room and suffered the bold stares of a dozen young men. She ate the stew to fill the void in her stomach, but the one in her heart remained.
I did the right thing in leaving Michael. I know I did.
Returning to her small room, she tried to sleep on the narrow bed. The room was cold, and she couldn’t get warm. She curled into a tight ball beneath the blanket and thought longingly of Michael’s solid warmth beside her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Was it only three days ago she had danced for him in the moonlight? What did he think of her now? Did he hate her? Did he curse her?
If she could cry, she might feel better, but she had no tears. She held herself tightly, aching. Closing her eyes, she tried to see Michael’s face, but the image wasn’t enough. She couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t feel his arms around her.
Rising, she rummaged through her carpetbag to find his shirt. She lay down on the bed again and pressed her face into the wool fabric Michael had worn, breathing in the scent of his body.
“Oh, Mama,” she whispered into the darkness, “the pain does make you want to die.”
But a still, small voice inside her kept saying over and over again, Live. Keep going. Don’t give up.
What was she going to do? She had a little gold left, but it wasn’t going to last long. The stagecoach ride, lodgings, and the ferry ride had been more expensive than she’d expected. The going rate for this foul little hotel was far too dear. What gold she had left would keep her for another two or three days at the most. After that, she would have to find a way to earn a living.
She slept finally. The night was filled with strange, disconcerting dreams. She awakened several times, shaking violently. It was as though some malevolent force were close by, waiting.
Angel packed her few possessions and left in the morning. She wandered for hours through the streets of San Francisco. Portsmouth Square had changed dramatically. The shanty in which she had lived was gone. So were all the others, as well as the tents that had spread like a plague around the plaza. Booths were now set up, giving the square the feel of a grand bazaar. She browsed through goods from around the world.
There were several brothels, one with the elegant air of New Orleans. On the outer edge of the square were thriving hostelries, saloons, and casinos. The Parker House, Dennison’s Exchange, the Crescent City, and the Empire now rose from the grime Angel remembered. On the southwest corner of Clay Street was Brown’s City Hotel.
She passed doctors’ and dentists’ offices, attorneys’ and business offices, surveying and engineering offices. She saw several new banks and a large brokerage firm. There was even a public schoolhouse with children playing tag in the yard. Angel stood watching them for a while, thinking of little Ruth and Leah and the boys. She missed them so much.
At Clay Street, men were queued up at the post office, waiting news of mail. On the corner of Washington and Grant was a new Chinese laundry. Workers scrubbed clothing in big washtubs while others stacked fresh linens into baskets. Balancing these on bamboo poles, they set off at a run to make deliveries.
By midday, Angel was famished, weary. And no closer to knowing what she was going to do to make a living. The only thing that came to mind was going back to what she knew. Every time she passed a brothel, she knew she could walk in the door and have food and shelter. She could have physical comfort. All she had to do was sell her body again—and betray Michael.
He’ll never know, Angel.
“I’ll know.” A man gave her a curious look as he passed. Would she turn into a mad woman who talked to herself?
A miner stopped her and asked her to marry him. She pulled her arm free and told him to leave her alone. He said he had a cabin in the Sierras and h
e needed a wife. She told him to look elsewhere and hurried on.
The crush of people made her more and more nervous. Where were they all going? What did they do for a living? Her head was throbbing. Maybe it was the hunger. Maybe it was worrying about what she was going to do when her gold ran out. Maybe it was knowing she was weak and would probably go right back to being a harlot just so she could keep body and soul together.
What am I going to do? God, I don’t know what to do!
Go into that cafe and rest.
Angel looked up the street and saw a small cafe. Sighing, she walked toward it and went in. She chose a table in the back corner and pushed her carpetbag behind her feet. Rubbing her temples, she wondered where she was going to spend the night.
Someone banged on the table a few feet away from her, making her jump. A wiry bearded man hollered. “What’s taking so long? I’ve been waiting near an hour. Where’s the steak I ordered?”
A small red-headed man hurried out of the back room and tried to quiet the angry patron with a whispered explanation of the delay, but that only incensed the man further. Face red, he grabbed the smaller man and held him up to his face. “Under the weather, ha! Drunk is what you mean!” He shoved the little man back, banging him into another table. The patron headed for the door, slamming it behind him so hard the windows rattled.
The little man ducked into the back room again, probably to escape the scrutiny of the dozen patrons still waiting for service and food. Several others got up and left. Angel didn’t know whether to follow their lead or not. She was exhausted and without prospects, and sitting here was as good as sitting anywhere else. She didn’t want to go out into the rush for a while anyway. Missing a meal wouldn’t kill her.
Three more men gave up on waiting to find out whether food was coming or not. Angel and four others remained. The little man appeared again, his smile tense and forced. “We got biscuits and beans.” The four remaining men vacated the premises with disgruntled remarks about having had enough of that fare to last a lifetime.