Forever Angels

  ENCHANTED LOVE

  BOOK ONE

  TRANA MAE SIMMONS

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  Copyright © 1995, 2023 by Trana Mae Simmons. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64457-324-2

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Before You Go…

  Southern Charms

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Trana Mae Simmons

  About the Author

  To my sister, Ann Riddle. Angela wouldn't have been the same without you, Annie! And to my boys, Richard, David and Michael Riddle. All of you have a special place in my heart.

  One

  9:00 p. m., New York City

  July 30, 1994

  Angela watched Michael stare around the expensively decorated New York City office, a look of disgust on his face.

  "I don't see how people can stand being cooped up inside four walls, reading books and papers all the time," he said. "Give me the open skies any day."

  "Shhhh!" Angela whispered.

  Michael glanced at her from across the cloud. "She can't see or hear us, unless we want her to."

  Angela bristled slightly at the challenge in her pudgy, sandy gray-haired companion's voice, tensing her wings to keep them from fluttering in agitation.

  "I know that. But you're supposed to be paying attention to your assignment, not complaining about where you have to perform it."

  "Dash nab it!" Michael griped when he took a step forward and caught his toe on the hem of his white robe. He fluttered his wings frantically, barely righting himself before he tumbled straight into her and knocked them both off the cloud.

  "I'm always tripping on this thing!" Michael growled, jerking on the skirt of his robe to raise it so he could stomp back from the edge of the cloud. "I'll never understand how women on earth walk in those danged long evening gowns."

  "Please! Watch your language!"

  "Now what'd I say?"

  Angela sighed and shook her head. Probably she should look on it as a challenge, she supposed. After all, Michael had only decided he wanted a change in his angelic duties a week ago, while she had had eons of experience to pass on to him.

  What in heaven had ever made Michael decide he wanted to be a guardian angel, she asked herself as she slipped a sideways look at him. She would just have to do the best she could to teach him what he needed to know, since tutoring him was her own assignment. And she was a bit grumpy herself, although she tried her best to suppress it by remembering that she'd had other slow-to-learn pupils over eternity.

  Of course, part of her irritation lingered from the scene she and Michael had witnessed earlier in the day, Angela admitted. She looked down at the teary-eyed figure standing in front of the window in the office where she and Michael floated invisibly on their cloud. The darkness beyond the window mirrored the reflection in the glass pane.

  Michael's first assignment wore a conservatively styled navy business suit, entirely proper attire for her position as an up-and-coming member of one of New York's oldest law firms. But she managed a touch here and there to confirm her femininity—a small ruffle of lace on her pale blue blouse and a fashionably short skirt that emphasized her long, slender legs.

  During business hours she wore that glorious mass of auburn hair tightly cinched with a plain barrette, but she had pulled the barrette out over an hour ago to run her fingers through her hair and massage her scalp. Springy curls fell around her face and past her shoulders. Even in the vague window reflection Angela could see those lovely green eyes, misty with unshed tears.

  The woman stood in front of the window now—not the sharp-minded attorney who had clawed her way up from a poverty-stricken, male-dominated background to a career on the verge of culminating in a partnership in the firm. She would be the firm's only woman partner if she successfully litigated the case contained in the file folders spread over her desk. The founder of the firm himself had hinted strongly at what the reward would be in the staff meeting during which she had laid out her ideas for the defense of their client.

  As a guardian angel, Angela had watched the long-overdue strides of women on earth with interest. She knew how much this career move meant to Tess Foster, the woman Michael was assigned to protect against harm.

  But one thing hadn't seemed to change over the years. At times women still tried to pick their men with their minds instead of their hearts. Just look at how a bright woman like Tess Foster had become involved with that lout who was now her former fiancé.

  Whoops. Guardian angels weren't supposed to make judgments on the character of the people they observed in their assignments.

  "Well, I can think of a word worse than lout to call that self-righteous fool," Michael responded when he read Angela's mind.

  "Michael!" Angela shook her head and pursed her lips in disapproval.

  "Uh-oh," Michael said, motioning her to silence. "I think she's had about enough of feeling sorry for herself. Look."

  They crouched to peer over the edge of the cloud, their eyes wide with dismay as they watched Tess stride from the window and sweep the files from her desk. Papers flew around the room, but the heavy folders landed on the thick carpet without a sound. Tess clenched her jaws and aimed a kick at the nearest folder, smiling grimly when it skidded across the carpet and landed with a thump against the bookcases that lined one wall of her office.

  "Boy, she's got a temper, hasn't she?" Michael whispered, "I'll bet she wishes that folder was her boyfriend's head."

  "I can't say as I blame her," Angela admitted. "Oh dear, there she goes. Come on."

  Grabbing Michael by the hand, Angela whisked them both through the door a second after Tess slammed it.

  Adirondack Mountains

  New York State

  July 31, 1994 6:00 a.m.

  She wasn't going to cry. Damn it, she was not going to cry again!

  After an all-night drive, Tess steered her little station wagon into the Keene Valley parking lot just after daybreak and pulled into a marked space. She shut off the engine and leaned her head back against the seat, breathing deeply of the clear mountain air flowing through her open window.

  After what had happened yesterday afternoon, she needed this trip desperately. The tall buildings in the city had crowded in on her—the noxious exhaust fumes tainting the air she breathed, deepening her depression. Trying to force herself to concentrate on reviewing the files in preparation for the imminent trial had proved useless. Only here, in the Adirondack wilderness area that reminded her so much of the West Virginia mountains, Granny, and home, could the healing start.

  "Tess Foster. Haven't seen you up here in a while, Tess. Are you all right?"

  She took a firm hold on her emotions and opened her eyes, reaching for the door handle. "I'm fine, Freddy," she told the red-haired ranger as she climbed out of the car. "I was just enjoying the cool air."

  "I hear it's hot as blazes in the city," he said with a grin. "I feel sorry for you folks back there. Not sorry enough to come visit you, though. You ought to get out of that rat race more often."

  "I will... from now on." She opened the wagon back and lifted out her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she sta
rted up the hiking trail.

  "How are the trails?" she asked.

  "Where you headed?"

  "As far as I can go in a day."

  "Figured that, knowing you. Well, we've closed some of the higher trails to less-experienced hikers. Had some slides after that rain last week. You'll probably be all right, though, as long as you're careful."

  "Then I guess I'll head up the Range Trail—plan on spending the night on Mt. Marcy."

  "Beautiful trail." Freddy nodded and made a notation on the clipboard in his hand. "Watch your step going down Saddleback. It can get rough there near some of the cliff faces."

  "I will."

  "See you tomorrow evening then. Have a good hike."

  Several hours later, Tess brushed away yet another tear and blinked angrily as she trudged up Saddleback Mountain's eastern slope. Pausing for a second, she leaned against a tree and gazed out over the scenic vista on her left, hoping some of the pristine beauty would work its magic and soothe her shattered spirit.

  Far below, a tiny road snaked through the valley, barely visible from this height. The bright sun had long ago burned off any lingering mists, yet the breeze counteracted the heat. The wind whispered through the treetops for the most part, a faint accompaniment to the bird and squirrel chatter.

  Maybe she should have stayed on the Johns Brook Trail, since she hadn't hiked in a while. She could already feel a slight strain in her calves from the climb. Johns Brook was definitely safer than the Range, but there she would have rubbed elbows with dozens of other backpackers. At least up here she had a measure of solitude.

  And besides, the very safety of the Brook Trail negated any chance of a hiker having a view as beautiful as this, where huge pines and birch covered the slope below. Higher on the surrounding mountain peaks the trees thinned out, allowing a view of scenery so beautiful, it almost made the eyes ache.

  Tess frowned, as though it were the view's fault that another tear trickled down her cheek.

  Heck, it wasn't really a total surprise. Things had begun to fall apart almost as soon as Robert slipped the diamond on her finger.

  She turned back up the trail and immediately stumbled on a jutting rock, wincing at the pain in her toe. This was stupid. She'd better watch out or she'd tumble down the mountainside. Freddy wouldn't let her back up here if he had to come rescue her.

  She readjusted her backpack, which had slipped sideways when she stumbled. When she lowered her hand, a sun streak shot into her eye, and she glared at the engagement ring. Now it seemed rather ostentatious, but she had been so proud of it at first. Proud of Robert, too. And, yes, just a little bit pleased at herself for making such a catch—a man who epitomized the dream of the perfect husband she had carried in her mind for so long.

  Robert, so tall and blond, with blue eyes that gazed at her as though she were the only woman worth noticing in a room full of stunning women. Trouble was, he made any woman he spoke to feel the same way.

  Robert, from old money and old blood lines traced all the way back to a ship arriving just years after the Mayflower—and, oh, so very proud of that too. No one mentioned that the first Stuyvesant might have been an indentured servant—or a convict sent to America as his punishment—since no trace of Robert's side of the family could be found in England. Instead, the family insisted that, at the very worst, Gerald Stuyvesant might have been the bastard son of a titled family.

  Robert, whose usually unlined brow creased in puzzlement when Tess adamantly refused even to consider signing the prenuptial agreement that was handed to her in his attorney's office yesterday. After all...

  She swiped at another stray tear trailing down her cheek. After all, Robert's somewhat high-pitched voice echoed in her head, she couldn't expect to have any claim to the money that had been in his family for so many generations if their marriage failed. And, though he loved her with every fiber of his being, who knew what the future might bring? Surely she didn't think that if for some silly reason he slipped and had a one-night stand, she would be able to make him pay by giving up half his trust fund. Not that it would ever happen, Robert had assured her.

  "Why did I ever think it would work?" she muttered. "He's never been backpacking in his life, and I can't stand to go even a month without some time in the wilderness. I get seasick—he loves sailing. Okay, so we both love to ride. But I can't stand those stupid English saddles, and I think people look dumb when they post when a horst trots!"

  She paused for breath when she realized she was gasping her words because of the exertion of her too-fast climb as her feet pounded in time to her angry words. She'd never make the peak without a long rest if she didn't start pacing herself.

  Sweeping a lock of hair from the side of her face, she glared at a chattering squirrel sitting on an overhanging limb on the trail.

  "That stupid agreement just brought all the doubts I'd been having about the entire engagement together," she told the squirrel. "He didn't even tell me ahead of time why he wanted me to meet him there! Funny thing is, I was tempted to sign it, just so I wouldn't have to face the fact that it was over. To try to prove to him that I wasn't only interested in his piles of money."

  The squirrel swished its tail at her and scurried away through the treetops, leaping from limb to limb. A bright blue jay swooped from its perch, its loud squawks of "Thief! Thief!" signaling its displeasure at being disturbed by Tess and the squirrel.

  "Oh, shoot," she mumbled as she hung her head. Glancing down at her hand, she quirked her lips wryly and slowly reached for the diamond. With a deep sigh she twisted the ring from her finger and stared at it for a moment, moving it back and forth in a ray of sunlight.

  She finally slipped the ring into a pocket in her tight denims and bent slightly forward to resume her walk up the mountain trail.

  Oklahoma Territory

  July 31, 1893

  "If you're here for the reason I think you are, Tillie Peterson, you can turn that damned buggy right back around and head for town!"

  "You're well aware of why I'm here, Stone Chisum! You have to listen to reason. Those children will be better off with their own people."

  "Those children are my children, legally adopted and mine to raise. Some misguided busybody's not going to interfere in my family!"

  Mrs. Peterson tightened her fat fingers around the reins and huffed out an indignant puff of breath. "How dare you!"

  "I'll dare whatever I have to in order to protect my kids," Stone said in a steely voice.

  "Oh!" Mrs. Peterson's washed-out blue eyes crinkled malevolently. "And I suppose if I try to argue with you any more, you'll strap on that gun you used to wear and shoot me with it!"

  "It's temptin'," Stone said with a malicious smile. "Mighty temptin'."

  "You wouldn't dare!"

  "I used to get paid for not backing down from dares when I wore that gun, lady. And you're pushin' it. Now, are you going to leave, or should I help you on your way?"

  "That adoption is only legal under Indian law, for whatever good that will do you. You haven't petitioned the U.S. courts." Mrs. Peterson gave him back his malicious smile, which somehow fell short when it warred with her wobbling triple chins.

  "When Oklahoma becomes a state, I'll be one of the first ones in court. Right now, Indian law's good enough for me." Stone narrowed his eyes. "I'll bet that horse can run pretty good, even pulling a load like you. If it got spooked, that is."

  "You... I refuse to let you intimidate me, Stone Chisum!"