An Angel for Dry Creek (16 page)

She was in love with Matthew.

Yes, she, Glory Beckett, was in love.

She knew it was foolish to love him. She knew he did not love her now and probably would not love her in the future. She knew they would never marry. They would probably not even see each other after Christmas. But she knew when she left Dry Creek she'd leave her heart behind. This wasn't at all how she'd planned to fall in love.

 

The Bullet pulled the brim on the Stetson down lower. He wondered if the farmer would notice that his
hat and overalls had been stolen out of his pickup last night.

It had snowed last night—frigid, stingy flakes with more wind than moisture—and the porch where the Bullet chose to hide was cold.

The sun had barely risen when the Bullet heard the patrol car drive up to the house where he knew Glory was staying. He didn't even raise his head to look over the porch railing at her. No, it was too soon in the game. A patient cat waited for the mice to weary themselves before he stretched out his claws.

G
lory watched Sylvia question the two boys. Sylvia was petite, only four-eleven in the short stacked heels she wore. But Sylvia didn't need height. She was second-generation Italian and waved her arms around fearlessly while she spoke. Her gold rings flashed and her long fingernails pointed. She towered over the teenagers, who still huddled by the stove. Sylvia alternated between sympathy and scolding. The love she had for the teens was so obvious she had them talking in minutes. They told her everything.

“But what about the plane tickets?” Matthew was sitting on a stool behind the counter watching Sylvia's drama.

“I told you, man. I earned that money,” insisted K.J., the teenager with the tattoo. “Busted my butt all last summer sweeping up in my uncle's restaurant.”

“You told me before you worked for him for nothing,” Sylvia challenged. Her blue eyes snapped and her lips drew together reprovingly.

K.J. grimaced. “Yeah, well…”

Sylvia looked at the two teenagers for a moment. Her face relaxed.

Glory saw that Sylvia was tired. Faint lines gathered around her usually laughing eyes. Her black hair, shiny and full, was bunched up and tied back with a scarf.
A scarf?
Glory looked more closely. It wasn't a scarf. The material tying Sylvia's hair back was a red bandanna, the kind the ranchers here used. And unless Glory was mistaken, the thick knot holding the bandanna in place could only have been tied by the expert fingers of a rancher.

Glory slid her gaze over to the only rancher in the store. Garth Elkton. He didn't look any too fresh, either, now that she looked at him closely. He needed a shave and his scowl seemed to fasten on Sylvia with some regularity.

“What's your uncle's name?” Matthew asked K.J. “I'm sure the police can find out if you worked for him.”

“Ah, don't call the police,” K.J. whined. “My uncle'll freak. Besides, you shouldn't keep worrying about us when there's a killer out there.”

“A killer?” The deputy paused. “Describe him.”

“Well, he's sort of average looking.”

“What color's his hair?”

“Brown. No, black.” The boy looked miserable. “Just hair. No particular color.”

“Can't you describe him any more than that?” K.J. frowned. “He's hard to remember. The kind of guy that hangs out in the shadows at school. You'd hardly know he was around except for the gun.”

“I thought so,” the deputy said smugly. “You never saw anybody.”

“Hey, I ain't lying. We're innocent. All we did was move the road sign.”

“Son, you're lucky you're dealing with Sylvia and not me.” Garth Elkton spoke for the first time. His voice was low and gravelly. “I'd turn you over my knee and show you the consequence of moving road signs. This is snow country. People could die if they take the wrong turn in a blizzard. Someone could have died last night because of you.”

“Nobody did, did they?” K.J. asked in alarm.

“Hey, we didn't mean to kill nobody,” protested John, the other boy. “We've been trying to do good to show—”

John bit back his words to a mumble.

“To show what?” Sylvia persisted.

“That we meant it.” John looked down at the floor and whispered, “The other day in church, we meant it.”

Glory looked at their faces. They looked honest. Besides, it was almost Christmas, and they were so young. She turned to Sylvia. “Maybe it has all been one of those misunderstandings.”

“Maybe.” Sylvia looked thoughtful.

“I guess no harm's been done,” Glory offered.

“You don't want to press charges, then?” the deputy asked.

Glory looked at Matthew. He answered, “If they leave today with no funny business, we'll let it go.”

“I already called the airport in Billings and got two tickets back to Seattle for this afternoon. If no one minds, I'll put them on the plane myself,” the deputy said eagerly. He clearly wanted the boys out of there.

Sylvia nodded. “I'll go with them.”

“Can't. I had to pressure the agents to get these two
tickets. There's a waiting list a mile long. Seems everyone wants to go someplace the day before Christmas.”

Sylvia bit her lip. “I see. Well, I guess I'll need to stay, then.”

“Good.” Garth Elkton rocked back on his boot heels. He'd already removed his Stetson and laid it on the store counter. His sheepskin coat was open, showing off a green flannel shirt. He looked down and smiled politely at Sylvia. “You can go to dinner with me, then.”

Sylvia looked up at him as if he'd just grown two heads. “Us? Dinner?”

The polite smile ended. A muscle tensed in the rancher's cheek. “It's a custom.”

“I—I can't,” Sylvia stammered, frantically looking around until she latched on to Glory. “I have to—to help Glory with the pageant.”

“We can eat before the pageant.” The rancher's eyes grew flint hard.

Sylvia flushed, and she looked at the floor. “Before the pageant I, ah, I need to help Glory get dressed up in her angel costume.”

The rancher looked around coldly. “Matthew here can help her. It's only wings and a halo.”

“It might only be wings and a halo to you, but Glory here cares how she looks in that costume,” Sylvia protested as she walked over and put her arm around Glory.

“I do?” Glory squeaked. Sylvia pinched her. Glory corrected herself. “I mean, yes, of course, I do care.”

The rancher looked exasperated. “Look, we eat and talk or we just talk. Take your pick. We've got business to finish. And we might as well eat while we do it. If you want to stay in Dry Creek, we'll eat the spaghetti
dinner those kids are fixing up. After all their hard work, they deserve some support.”

“Kids?” Sylvia looked up.

Glory smiled. Whether the rancher knew it or not, he had hooked Sylvia. Nothing got to her like kids.

“They're going to have music,” Glory offered mildly. “You have to eat anyway.”

“I suppose we could eat a short meal together.”

“We'll call it a snack.” The rancher smiled.

Sylvia took her eyes off the rancher and returned them to the boys. “I'm going to call Pat Dawson and have him meet your plane. I'm also going to call the police. And don't even think of ditching this flight along the way. If I hear you're not in Seattle by tonight I'll have the police in fifty states looking for you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” both boys said.

“Well, we best get going into Billings,” the deputy said. “I want to make it back and see this pageant myself. Especially now that the angel is going to be in it.”

Matthew pondered. “I guess there's no reason why she can't be the angel now.”

Glory grunted. She could think of a reason or two not to be the angel. But she doubted anyone would listen. “In that case, I better see about my halo.”

 

The midday sun shone in the display window of the hardware store. Jacob and Elmer were sitting beside the wood-burning stove with their legs stretched out in front of them. Matthew was moving around in the back storage room. He'd already brought out the gold garland and cut off a length for a halo. He was back there now looking for glitter to sprinkle on the cardboard wings they'd brought over from the church.

Glory was putting the last of the oils on the portrait of the twins' mother. She added a smudge of light gray paint to the woman's cheek. Glory patted it to make it look like a dusting of flour. She was going to give the painting to the twins to be opened after the pageant. That reminded her she would need to go back to the house soon and make cookies for the twins.

The bell above the door rang, and Glory looked up to see Linda come in. The young woman was all dressed up for the holidays. She'd dyed one streak of hair Christmas red and another hunter green. A jingling bell earring dangled from each ear and she had a sprig of holly behind one ear. She wore red leotards and a white sweater.

“Figure I'll get more tips if I look Christmassy,” Linda whispered as she came over to where Glory painted. “Least, that's what my friend Sara Enger said. She even took a picture of me with Gus in his Santa suit.”

“Gus?”

Linda shrugged. “This old cowboy that's been helping us. Used to work for one of the ranchers up north that sold out. Jazz told him he could bunk down in the kitchen for a while if he helped us tonight by being Santa. He don't talk much, but he sure can look jolly.”

“How's the sauce coming?” Glory asked. Matthew had already reported that there were several gallons of spaghetti sauce simmering away at the old café. Young people and apparently some older ones had been coming and going from the place all day. The smell of Italian herbs was settling over Dry Creek, and when a person walked down the street they could hear the faint sounds of a band practicing inside the café.

“We're almost ready for everyone. You and Matthew are coming, aren't you?”

“Wouldn't miss it,” Glory assured her.

“Hey, you should wear your costume for dinner.” Linda snapped her gum.

“This angel would need a bib as big as a sheet if I had to eat with my wings on.”

“Yeah, I suppose it wouldn't work too well with the wings.”

The door to the hardware store opened again, and Sylvia came in.

“Cold out there.” Sylvia blew on her hands to warm them.

“It's not too bad, really.” Glory felt like a Montana native. “Not cold enough to crack the vinyl on car seats or to freeze your nose hairs or to—”

“I get the picture,” Sylvia interrupted.

Glory grinned. “I thought maybe a certain rancher would keep you warm—give you his jacket, that kind of thing.”

Sylvia snorted. “The only thing Garth Elkton is going to give me is high blood pressure. That man is impossible.”

“If you say so,” Glory assured her friend with another grin.

Just then Matthew hobbled out from the back storeroom. Glory's grin faded. It was all she could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. His chestnut hair was rumpled and shot through with gold. In fact, he was golden all over from his forehead to his big toe. His face was sprinkled with gold. His clothes were sprinkled with gold. It appeared Matthew had found the glitter.

“Speaking of keeping warm,” Sylvia leaned over
and muttered to Glory. “You never did tell me how you ended up catching a man like him.”

“Catching? Matthew?” Glory's voice squeaked. She continued in a whisper. “I didn't catch anyone. Matthew is just a friend. He's not caught at all.”

“If you say so.” Sylvia righted herself and patted her hair. “I better get back to the barn. Mrs. Hargrove needs help with some pine cones she's arranging.”

“She still at it?” Elmer groaned and stood up. He slapped Jacob on the knee. “Guess we better go give her a hand.”

Matthew shook his head. Glitter spun off him. “Give me a minute to get this stuff off me and I'll go give everyone a hand, too. I'll just put a note on the door so anyone who wants to buy something knows where to find me.”

 

They all stood in the door to the barn. It was high noon and the air was cold enough so that they all looked like smokers when they breathed. Each word brought a puff of gray-white air. The barn itself was rough-hewn. Unvarnished pine boards lined the walls and the thirty-foot-high ceiling. A hayloft hung down from the front of the barn and Glory could see the angel's swing that the ranch hands had built. Two thick ropes hung from a hoist and met at the swing's bottom with a wide plank to stand on. The swing looked like every child's fantasy. Glory was beginning to anticipate soaring over the heads of everyone as she swung from side to side in the barn.

“You'll have to wear some ruffled petticoats,” Sylvia offered. “They'd swish and sway when you swing. It'll look very feminine. Southern belle-like.”

“Petticoats?” Matthew frowned. Suddenly he wasn't
so sure about Glory and this swing. There were too many single men out at the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch. They'd love to get a glimpse of Glory's petticoats. “Long johns,” Matthew said decisively. “You'll wear a pair of my long johns. I won't have anyone ogling your legs.”

“Long johns?” Glory frowned. “I don't think an angel would wear long johns.”

“In Montana they do. We've got cold winters here,” Matthew insisted.

“It is cold, isn't it?” Mrs. Hargrove said as she walked over to them. She rubbed her hands even though they were in knit mittens. “We've been trying to think of a way to warm up this barn for tonight.”

“Henry has some secondhand camp stoves,” Matthew suggested. “They'd at least take the edge off the cold.”

“I'll buy them from you,” Tavis offered.

“I'm sure Henry won't mind if we use them on loan. They're already used.”

“I'd like to buy them anyway. I've been thinking we might use this barn for other things, too. Plays, maybe concerts.”

“We could have rock concerts,” Linda gushed. “Wait'll I tell the Jazz Man. We could set up right here!”

“Not a bad idea,” Mrs. Hargrove agreed, and turned to Tavis. “But what will your dad say? I'm surprised he even agreed to the pageant.”

“Me, too.” Tavis grinned. “That's why I thought I'd ask about the rest—he's not himself lately. Aunt Francis has him rattled. She's cleaning everything in sight. Even threw away his favorite coffee mug because it was stained. He probably doesn't even know what
he's agreeing to, but he's a man of his word. Once he's said yes, he won't back down. Besides, we've built all these bleachers and we don't need the barn anyway. Only use it for trucking, and that was before we built the good road to the main corrals.”

Glory looked around her. The barn had been transformed. Six rows of sturdy bleachers lined both sides of the barn. The floor of the barn had been hosed down and polished until it shone. At the front of the barn, a fake building front stood with the words
Bethlehem Inn
painted across it. Nearby an open stable was fashioned with bales of hay strewn around. A metallic gold star hung down from the hayloft above the manger. As she looked more closely, she noticed that the gold star was on a pulley so that it could travel on a wire from one end of the barn to the other.