An Angel for Dry Creek (15 page)

“I say, ‘Look yonder,”' Josh announced.

“And I point at the angel,” Joey added. “That's you.”

Matthew cleared his throat and sat down on the sofa next to the twins. “I know how much you're looking forward to having Glory be the angel, but she might not be able to, not tonight.”

The twins nodded. “That's what Mrs. Hargrove said.”

“But I can watch you,” Glory offered.

Matthew frowned. “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“Well, the whole town is going to be there,” Glory said. “It's probably safer there than anywhere else.”

 

Glory was surprised that Carl Wall agreed to escort her and Matthew over to the hardware store. She gathered from his comments that she was now one of his pigeons and, as such, would be defended from outsiders like every other citizen of Dry Creek.

“I've cleared the street,” the deputy said as he stood on Matthew's porch. “We best move while everything's empty.”

“But it's only seven-thirty,” Glory protested. Mrs. Hargrove had stopped by to pick up the twins already. “Matthew doesn't open the hardware store until eight.”

“I can open early,” Matthew said as he balanced on one crutch so he could put on his leather jacket.

“That's right. You don't want to go by your usual schedules,” the deputy warned them. “Do the unexpected. Change your routine. That way no one can set an ambush.”

“Makes sense.” Glory put her arms into an old army jacket the deputy had brought with him. It was his version of a disguise.

“And put your hair under this.” The deputy held out a gray scarf and then a baseball cap. “Then put this on.”

“Sorry for the trouble I caused you earlier,” Glory said.

“Ah, that was just a little misunderstanding. No hard feelings, I hope.” The deputy had done an about-face with her. Glory suspected he might have run a check on her and found out that she did work for the Seattle Police Department.

Glory smiled. “No. No hard feelings.”

“Matthew?” the deputy asked.

“All's forgotten and forgiven.” Matthew held the door open for Glory, then, before she could go through it, put a hand out to delay her and went through the door himself instead. “Need to change the order. Keep it unexpected.”

“But if—” Glory gulped. If someone was planning to shoot her while she was going through a door, she wouldn't want them to shoot Matthew instead. For the first time, the bullets seemed all too real. It wasn't just
her life that was in danger; it was the lives of those she cared about, too.

The few steps to the deputy's patrol car were cold and slippery. A fine sheen of frost was still on the ground from the night's low temperatures. Glory almost slipped twice hurrying down the sidewalk to the patrol car. Matthew struggled to keep up with her on his crutches, but she deliberately kept ahead of him. If she was a target, she didn't want him near her.

“Keep low in the seat,” Carl said when Glory slid into the back seat of the car. He already had the heater going and the ice scraped off all the windows. Except for the sound of the car's engine, the day was silent. No traffic. No children outside walking anywhere. Not even any dogs barking.

It was only three blocks to the hardware store, but the deputy kept his eyes darting about the whole time. He studied the porch of each house that lined the street, starting with Mr. Gossett's. Nothing was unusual.

The deputy pulled up as close to the hardware store as possible, even though he had to park in a crust of old snow that had been shoveled up next to the store. Car exhaust had turned the top of the snow gray.

Glory had her hand on the door handle when Matthew reached over from the seat beside her to stop her.

“Not now,” Matthew commanded, and jerked his head toward the store. “We got company inside.”

“What?” The deputy rolled down his window and lifted his nose in the air as if he could smell something. “Smoke.”

“There's a fire going in the stove.”

Glory looked up. The sky was a washed-out morning blue, but she still saw the thin trail of vapor. It was so
small it was almost invisible. “I don't suppose Elmer or Jacob would have gone inside and built a fire?”

Matthew shook his head.

The deputy reached for the radio in his car. “I'm calling for backup.”

“Backup won't do us any good if they're inside watching us. It'll take the guys from Miles City twenty minutes to get here.” Matthew ran his hands through his hair and looked over at Glory. “And stay down on the seat, for pity's sake.”

“I won't stay down unless we all stay down.”

“What?”

“I know about decoys,” Glory said stubbornly. She refused to be the only one who wasn't a target. “Making them think they have a target just to draw a reaction.”

Matthew grinned. “Now you're thinking.”

Glory gasped. “I meant I don't want anyone to be a decoy. You're not to take any chances.” Glory looked at the deputy, who was speaking into the radio. “Either of you!”

“But what about him?” Matthew pointed to his crutch that was lying sideways on the floor of the back seat. “We could put the deputy's hat on my crutch and wave it in front of the window. Those windows are so frosted up all anyone will see is a shadow.”

“It's worth a try.” The deputy hung up the radio. “Especially since everyone's out on a call already. I'd guess it'll be forty-five minutes before anyone gets here to help us.”

Matthew pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around the handle of his crutch to make the shape of a face. The deputy took off his cap and handed it back to Matthew.

“I'll walk it along,” the deputy said to Matthew. “You stay with Glory.”

“No, you stay with her.” Matthew touched the door handle.

“But…” the deputy started.

“You have the gun,” Matthew answered simply. “Even if you left it with me, I'm not sure what my aim would be. If something happens, I want the gun with you.”

“You can't do this,” Glory protested. No one had ever risked their life before for her, and now Matthew seemed to be doing it all morning. “You could be hurt.”
Or worse.

The windows on the car were still iced, even though the heater in the patrol car was spitting out coughs of heat. Glory herself was shivering. But Matthew's forehead had a thin sheen of sweat covering it.

“Don't worry.” Matthew tied his jacket around the crutch, too. His crutch now looked like a skinny scarecrow.

“Of course I'll worry,” Glory fretted.

“Well, pray instead, then,” Matthew offered mildly as he unlatched the door.

“Pray,” Glory squeaked. She tried, but the words spun in her throat. Matthew stepped out of the car. His boots crunched on the snow. She wanted to close her eyes. But she couldn't.
Dear Lord—
the words finally came
—Oh, dear Lord. Help this man, this exasperating man, the one I don't want to see hurt, the one I care about….

The car windows were beginning to fog over, so Glory saw Matthew as if he was in a grainy out-of-focus film. He crouched low, keeping his crutch held high. With every step he took Glory expected an ex
plosion of gunfire. But the silence held. Finally Matthew was in front of the side window to the store. His jacket waved in front of the window. Whoever was inside wouldn't resist a target like that.

Glory felt she didn't breathe for the next two minutes. It seemed like hours, but she knew it was only two minutes because she watched the minutes change on the digital clock in the patrol car. One minute. Two minutes.

“I better go in the front door,” the deputy finally said, pushing open his car door. “Maybe someone just forgot to put the fire out yesterday.”

Glory began to breathe again. That must be it. So much had been happening yesterday that everyone's nerves were stretched. Matthew had just forgotten to see that the fire was completely out. Maybe Jacob or Mrs. Hargrove had put in a large chunk of wood at the day's end and it had lain smoldering all night. That must be it.

The car door handle was cool to Glory's touch. “I'll go tell Matthew.”

Matthew had already turned toward them, and gave a relieved thumbs-up sign.

Glory pushed the store door open first. Matthew had twisted the key in the lock. The deputy took his hand off the butt of his gun to put his cap back on his own head. All three of them were standing in the doorway unraveling Matthew's crutch decoy.

Glory looked into the dim store first. It was too early for the morning sun to come in through the display window, and the inside was poorly lit. Matthew had left three salt blocks and a small box of bolts close to the counter for Timothy Stemm to pick up this morning. Glory reached for the switch to the overhead lights.

The overhead lights came on.

“What the—?” Glory blinked. It looked as if there was a big bundle of blankets tied to the large center post. Gray blankets. Khaki blankets. Then she saw a foot.

Matthew slammed the door shut and looked at Glory. “Back into the car.”

“But—”

“This time he's right,” the deputy said as he drew his gun.

Glory stepped back to the side of the store. “That's as far away as I can go.”

Matthew frowned, but the deputy was already slowly opening the door.

“Deputy Sheriff Wall here. Don't try anything. We're coming in.”

“We ain't done nothing.” The muffled wail came from inside the store.

When Glory got to the door, Matthew was holding two thin teenage boys by the scruff of their necks as if they were puppies. When she got closer, she saw that their hands were tied behind their backs and they were both anchored with another rope to the center post.

“You've got it all wrong,” one of the boys protested. “We're the good guys. We was here to stop the hit man. He's the one that tied us up.”

“Contract killers aren't known for using rope to do their business,” the deputy said wryly as he patted the blankets in a weapons search.

“Or building fires to keep their victims warm,” Matthew added. He'd sat down on the floor next to the boys so he could keep them still while the deputy searched.

“But he did!” the boy with a Seahawks cap insisted.

“We was trying to help. We tried to keep him away. Even moved the road sign off the interstate so he'd get lost.”

“You know it's illegal to tamper with road signs?” Matthew scolded.

One of the boys shrugged. Glory figured they had done worse than move a road sign or two in their short lives.

“No wonder Sylvia got lost,” Matthew half muttered.

“Sylvia?” The jaws of both boys dropped. They were clearly worried more about her than they were about the law. “
Sylvia's
here!”

“You'll have some explaining to do.” Glory looked at her watch. “In about one hour, I'd say.”

“What's Sylvia doing here?”

“She came to keep you out of trouble,” Glory scolded.

“Ahh, man.”

“No guns,” the deputy reported after a thorough search of the blankets.

Glory watched the boys exchange worried looks. It was clear they didn't want to disappoint Sylvia. Glory wondered how long they had been gang members. They each had a small gold earring in each ear, but that was more fashion than rebellion these days. The one with a Seahawks cap had a recent haircut and a bruise on his chin. The other boy had a tattoo that ran the length of his arm. Both wore white T-shirts and jeans.

“Where are your coats?” Matthew asked.

Glory noticed for the first time that both boys had goose bumps on their arms and the tips of their ears were red.

“Don't need none,” one of the boys declared defiantly. “It's not cold.”

Matthew looked at the two boys a moment and then nodded. “I'll see what we have in back. I think we have a jacket or two. That'll keep you until we rebuild the fire.”

The deputy shook his head as he laid one of the wool blankets over each boy's shoulders. “You boys would have frozen out there last night without even a coat. This is Montana. You need to thank whoever brought you here.”

The boy with the tattoo scowled. “Ain't going to thank no killer.”

“Wonder who it was who put them here.” The deputy looked up as Matthew hobbled back into the main room of the store. Matthew had his crutch under one arm and two worn jackets under the other.

Matthew tossed the jackets to the deputy. “I figure the whole county saw that picture I gave to Duane and Linda. Most likely one or two of the hands at the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch caught them asking questions. They wouldn't have wanted to wait for morning to come—chores awaiting—so they left them here for us to find this morning.”

The deputy nodded. “Makes sense.”

Glory was glad something made sense. She hadn't caught her breath all morning. Something was chewing its way into her consciousness, but she couldn't grasp it. Maybe it was because she was still reeling from the way Matthew had risked taking a bullet from these two boys and then noticed so quickly that they needed coats. If she hadn't already decided Matthew was a natural minister, she would have known it after this morning. Matthew was someone who was off course
with his life. He'd given up his calling because his wife had died.

That must be it, Glory decided with relief. She was only worried about Matthew. Worried that he wasn't doing what he wanted with his life. Worried that he was so wrapped up in remembered love that he couldn't live.

That must be it, Glory tried to convince herself. She was only worried for Matthew. She let her breath escape—and that's when it hit her.

She remembered the moment. The stab of knowing. She'd sat in the back seat of the patrol car, watching Matthew wave his crutch around to tempt a bullet out of the boys inside the store, and fear had emptied her mind. And then her mind had filled in a flash with one thought and one thought only. She'd sat there motionless and realized that if a bullet hit Matthew it would hit her, too. Square in the middle of her heart. She'd seen the truth and then she'd pushed it away until now. Cautiously she let the thought come back. She worried over her revelation, afraid to even say the words to herself. But she couldn't stop them. It was true.