About an hour and a half later, Emma returned home from her midwife visit. Her mother and brother came inside with her, where they found Angel Eyes sitting at the kitchen table facing the door. He was smoking his pipe as he nursed a cup of coffee laced with a bit of whiskey. He wasn't exactly pleased to see Emma's mother, but decided to keep that to himself.
Lavinia gave him a disapproving glance as she noticed he was wearing a gun belt, complete with his gun riding in its crossdraw holster. She pressed her lips together, but did not comment.
"How'd it go," he asked.
"Fine," Emma replied, beaming. "Janie said everything looked good and I should have a healthy baby in about three month's time.
"Good," he replied. "But I still want you to go see her or have her come here to check you again every now and then."
"Of course," she agreed. Emma was touched at how he was looking out for her, something she had not expected.
He got up then and poured her a cup of coffee, also putting a dollop of whiskey in it.
Lavinia and Tom just looked at one another as it is was apparent to them that there was no one else in the room for Angel Eyes but Emma.
Emma was aware of this as well, so she told Tom, "Why don't you pour cups for the both of you, then I'll give you the house tour, Ma."
Tom stayed with him in the kitchen, as the two women went to look in every nook and cranny of the new home. The teen had been out to the house several times while it was under construction, but his mother, being a proper lady, would not have visited the construction site without an invitation, which Angel Eyes had not extended.
He did not much care for her, but had taken a liking to Tom, who was obviously impressed with the hired gun, without knowing exactly what he was, but whose active imagination had filled in the blanks.
"I have a favor I need to ask of you," he asked the young man once the women were out of earshot. "And I'll pay you for it."
"What is it?" Tom asked, looking eager.
"I'm not going to be here all the time," the older man told him. "I'll leave town from time to time for work, but I don't want Emma staying here by herself, especially before the baby is born. That's where you come in - I want you to come out here to stay with her. You'll stay with your parents when I'm here, though."
"All right, I'll do it," Tom agreed.
"Good." Angel Eyes wasn't above exerting influence on the impressionable teenager.
Meanwhile, Emma showed her mother every inch of the house, save for the root cellar and the secret tunnel behind it. The young woman knew showing her would lead to too many questions, and she was serious about keeping Angel Eyes' profession a secret.
She was a little bashful about showing her mother the bedroom, knowing her mother didn't approve of their relationship, despite knowing that her mother had resigned herself to it, mostly because of the grandchild she was eager to have. Lavinia pushed down the things she wanted to say, and merely made decorating suggestions. Emma did tell her she needed a decent bed for the guest room.
"I'll attend to that once I get back to town," her mother promised. "Perhaps a single size matching your bed?"
"Perfect," Emma agreed.
By this time, they'd returned to the kitchen. Lavinia could see that Emma was getting tired, so she said, "Tom, it's time we were on our way. Emma needs her rest."
Turning to her daughter, she said, "Make sure to eat the food I brought. There's plenty for both of you."
"We will. Thanks again for bringing it."
Tom drove his mother home in the carriage, which Angel Eyes had decided to buy, figuring Emma would need it.
After they drove away, while Emma was busying herself in the kitchen heating up the food, he looked out the window, deep in thought. He thought of all the money he'd spent since finding out Emma was in a family way, which was totally different from his usual habits.
Having lived a solitary life before meeting Emma, his spending had been frugal. Other than the tools of his trade: guns and related accessories, horses and tack, which he bought the very best of, most of what he earned had gone into the bank for the time he'd be too old to be a hired gun any longer.
Now, he was spending almost like a drunken sailor. And for what? Though he enjoyed spending time with Emma, he was pretty sure he was not "in love", whatever that meant, not even sure he'd recognize it even if it hit him in the face like a 2x4.
But he knew the house had been a good investment that would save money in the long run, keeping him from pissing away money renting hotel rooms.
He knew he couldn't do this domestic stuff all the time with no breaks. Hell, he was already feeling antsy. Though he had plenty of money put back in the bank, he knew he needed to do another job soon, so he'd not need to touch any of that money.
To answer the original question, he knew why he was doing it - for his child soon to come. He wanted him to have what he never had as a child: a stable home, wanting for nothing. He would make sure of that.
"Angel Eyes, dinner's ready," she called. Though Emma now knew his full name, she still called him Angel Eyes out of force of habit.
His reverie broken, he joined her at the kitchen table to eat. The couple ate mostly in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
They slept late the next morning, in no hurry to get going.
"I think I'm going to go to town today," Angel Eyes told Emma after he'd washed and dressed. "Do you want me to stop and have Tom come take you anywhere, such as the mercantile?" His unsaid assumption was that they'd not be spending the day together.
Properly reading the expression on her face, he reminded her, "We can't be seen in public together. Remember? You are supposed to be the grieving Widow Sentenza."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But I thought we could spend the day here together." Her voice trailed off.
"I can't stay cooped up here all the time," he told her flatly."I have to get another job. Once the baby comes, the money will be needed."
"Yes, of course," she conceded. She was still disappointed, but didn't press him any further, remembering he was a dangerous man, whom she still didn't know a lot about. "I'd appreciate if you could send Tom my way."
"We'll spend some time together tonight," he promised, giving her a kiss on the top of her head.
He left shortly thereafter, with Emma watching him cantering down their private lane. Sighing, she turned to get herself ready for when Tom turned up.
She went to the mercantile in the carriage to visit with her family and to buy some items for the house that her mother had recommended. Angel Eyes had given her an ample sum of money to spend as she wished, and her mother granted her the family discount.
As she browsed through the stock, which had changed somewhat in the three months she'd been away, she heard the voices of two prominent women from the church, as they made a beeline for her.
Emma wished she could run and hide in the back room, but it was too late for that. These women were the biggest gossips in town, and they'd certainly concoct a story if she avoided them. She knew she had to face the music.
"Emma Baker!" Martha Grant called out "I haven't seen you in months and certainly not at church." Looking at the young woman critically, she added, "And you've certainly put on weight!"
Narrowing her eyes, Emma snapped, "I'm Mrs Sentenza now. And a widow."
She ignored the comment about her weight, as a lady did not ever call attention to herself being in the family way. It was unforgivably rude that Mrs Grant had done so.
Sophronia Thompson, Mrs Grant's companion, observed, "Where are your mourning clothes? A proper widow wears black for at.least a year!"
"If it's any business of yours, I choose to do my grieving privately," she retorted, none too graciously. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I am feeling most unwell and need to go rest."
Lavinia Baker saw what was happening and hurried over to rescue her daughter, before she provided the old busybodies with more gossip to spread. Once they were in the kitchen, she said, "Let me make us some tea."
Seating herself across from Emma, she said, "I'm afraid you gave those old biddies a lot to talk about. They were purposely trying to provoke you."
"I'm sorry I let them corner me," Emma said. "I was so intent looking at stuff for the house that I wasn't aware they were there until it was too late." After a pause, she added, "And I really do feel unwell. All I want to do is go to sleep."
"What's done is done," her mother sighed. "Nothing we can do about it now. I'll have Tom take you back to the house so you can get some rest."