An Angel for Dry Creek (11 page)

“I can take her.” Matthew bristled. He was sitting on his stool by the counter.

“Your old car won't hold a load,” Tavis challenged.

“I can take her anyway.” Matthew didn't want to spell out the obvious. By now he figured Glory was honest about placing the order. But he knew her credit was no good. He figured she believed the order was coming. He wanted to be the one with her when she found out it wasn't there. She'd need a friend and not a fancy cowboy at her side to help her with her disappointment. Besides, he had some money set aside for a rainy day. He figured they could buy enough little presents in Miles City to make the children of Dry Creek happy.

Glory looked from one man to the other. “I might be able to fit everything in my Jeep.”

“Matthew will take you,” Mrs. Hargrove calmly announced with a silencing glance at Tavis. “I need Tavis's help with the bleachers.”

 

It was only a trip to town, Glory chided herself that evening as she looked through her suitcase. So far she'd pulled out her gray sweatshirt with Seattle Seahawks written on the back and an ivory turtleneck with a tan
vest. Neither one was exactly right. She couldn't remember the last time she'd given this much thought to the question of what to wear. Jeans were an obvious choice because of the cold weather, but she suddenly wished for a sweater with bright colors to go with them. Of course, she had the pink sweater. It was paler than she'd like, but maybe it would do.

She sat on the edge of Matthew's bed, with her suitcase and clothes scattered all around, and shook her head at herself. She was acting as if this was a date. Worse yet, she wanted it to be a date. And that was a fantasy that would be short-lived. She could sit and count the reasons she shouldn't become involved with Matthew. He was a good father; he would want more children. Children she couldn't give him. Even more important, Matthew wasn't following God at this point in his life. She believed he was still a Christian in his heart, but he wasn't willing to let go of his grief and admit it. And then there was his grief. Glory felt her breath catch in her throat at this one. What if Matthew had loved Susie so much he could never love anyone else? Would every other woman seem pale in comparison?

Maybe, she thought as she shook her head again at her clothes, that's why she wanted something bright to wear. She wanted to get Matthew's attention tomorrow. But she'd need more than a bright sweater to do that.

 

The Bullet watched the inside glass of the telephone booth fog up as he breathed. He was outside a drugstore in Spokane, calling his contact to tell him the search was off. He hadn't picked up the scent of the hit and he was ready to go home.

“You're looking in the wrong place.” The clipped
voice came through the phone lines. “She's in Montana. Wonders of modern technology. Do a word search on the AP wire—a name search—and there it is. Glory Beckett in Dry Creek, Montana.”

S
now, turned grayish-brown by the exhaust of passing cars, lined the isolated highway as Matthew drove down the road. After breakfast he had quickly washed his car, almost freezing his hands in the process. He was a fool to wash anything outside when he was on crutches and the weather gauge read ten below. But he wanted Glory's first impression of his car to be good even if the cleanliness she'd see would be fleeting. Cars might mean something to her. He stole a glance over at her as she sat in the passenger seat.

“The radio doesn't work, but I fixed the cassette player.” Matthew fumbled in the storage compartment next to the driver's seat. He couldn't remember what was in there, but he thought he had a Mozart tape. He pulled out three tapes. All three were made by Disney. “I'm afraid I have mostly sing-along music for the twins. But I'll keep looking. I've got one classical and I've been meaning to get some instrumentals, too—maybe a flute tape.”

“That's okay. I like the silence.”

What does she mean by that, Matthew thought in desperation. Should he be talking more? Should he be talking less? Ever since this morning when he'd decided this trip to town was the closest thing he'd had to a date in years, he'd been tongue-tied. Worse than when he had been a teenager and had been dating. At least back then he'd known when he was on a date and when he wasn't.

“That's one thing we have in Montana. Silence—it goes with the snow.”

Montana was known for her open spaces and big blue skies. Both could be seen through the car's windshield. Matthew felt as if they were driving along in a warm cocoon. The car's heater kept the air cozy, and the hum of the engine was soothing.

“In Seattle we have noise and rain.”

“You like it there?” Matthew tried to keep the question light, tried to pretend he hadn't wondered if there was any chance she'd move to a small town in Montana if asked.

“I've got my family there.”

Matthew held his breath.

“My mother and the captain.”

Matthew took a deep breath. So far so good, but he had to know. “Any—you know—boyfriends?”

A butterfly took flight in Glory's stomach. “Not really.”

Matthew frowned. What did that mean?

“Well, of course, you date….” Matthew stumbled along.

“Of course.” Glory's hands went up to finger her dangling silver earrings. Maybe the jewelry had been a mistake. The zipper of her black ski jacket was open to show her pale pink sweater. Even with denim jeans
the silver jewelry might be too dressy for a shopping trip. But it was the only thing in her suitcase that seemed the least bit festive. When she had looked in the mirror this morning, she'd looked colorless, so she'd put on what little makeup she had. Usually red hair clashed with pink, but the pink in her sweater was more pearl than pink. She wore a natural lipstick and barely-pink blush. She'd brushed her hair until it settled around her face in waves. She'd even put a tortoise clip in her hair. She wanted to look good, but now she wondered if she had overdone it. She didn't want to make Matthew feel uncomfortable, as if she had expectations for this trip. Date expectations. Maybe that was why he was asking about boyfriends. Maybe he wanted to be sure she had one and wasn't expecting anything from him. Maybe she should have worn the Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt, after all. There was no mistaking the nondate look of that.

“But is there someone you date regularly?” Matthew persisted with the question. “Someone you are involved with?” Even if she was undercover, she would answer this honestly to tell him there was no chance. Even a government agent would give him that courtesy.

Glory glanced at him. He had his eyes straight ahead, his chin straight forward, his hands squarely on the steering wheel. He was a study in browns. Deep brown leather jacket, open all the way down to show a pressed white shirt. Chestnut-brown hair with blond highlights. Tanned face. Fierce dark eyebrows. It was the small nervous twitch at the edge of his mouth that gave her courage.

“No,” Glory said softly. “There's no one special.”

“Good.” Matthew breathed again. “Good.”

The morning suddenly looked brighter to Matthew. The slush at the side of the road didn't look just gray anymore; it looked more like pure silver with the sun shining on it the way it was. And his car might be old, but the seat cushions were made of leather. And the trim looked like wood. He was cruising.

“I was wondering if I could buy you lunch when we're in town.” Matthew tapped the steering wheel lightly and turned to smile at Glory. He came from the era when a date meant someone did the inviting, even if it was only for lunch. “There's a steakhouse if you want to play it safe. Or we can go to Billy's—never know what you'll get, but it's good.”

“I'd like that—Billy's sounds good.” Glory tilted her head so her earrings could sparkle. And she lifted the collar of her sweater and flipped her silver chain outside. The more jewelry the better. She, Glory Beckett, was on a date. Granted, it was a date with the wrong man, but for today she didn't care. She was going to forget he was a grieving widower who'd had a perfect wife. She was going to forget he was not following God because of that wife. She was going to forget she couldn't give him children as that wife had. She was even going to forget that wife had ever existed. She would let her jewelry sparkle like laughter. Just for today she'd forget about his past and their lack of a future. They were definitely on a date.

“We'll have lots of time to shop.” Matthew slowed down some. There were likely to be patches of white ice along this strip of road, and he couldn't count on his leg with the sprained knee. Besides, they had plenty of time. “There's a department store—and Buffy's Drug. Buffy's usually carries some toys this time of year, just in case your order doesn't get here in time.”

“The boxes should be at Dr. Norris's office already.”

“Well, just in case they're held up,” Matthew persisted. He didn't want anything to ruin their day. “We can pick up what we need at Buffy's.”

“Buffy's won't have a Betsy Tall doll,” Glory protested. She'd gone over the children's wish pictures. No small store in Miles City could carry all of the different things the children wanted.

“Maybe not, but they'll have another doll.”

“But that's the problem.” Glory had seen the hope on the children's faces. “They each have a special request for a present. Something they especially want. Not expensive things, either, just particular things. This Christmas I want them each to have the exact thing they asked for.”

“Sometimes we don't get the exact thing we want in life.”

“I know, but—” Glory stopped. How could she explain the need children have to be unique in the eyes of God? To be known individually? “They're expecting their angel to make arrangements to see that they get their special gift. It won't be the same if it's just any old gift. It has to be the one.”

“They'll be fine.” Matthew's face settled into grim lines. “They'll make do.”

“Will they?” Glory watched the shutters go down over Matthew's face. She knew they weren't talking about the children. They were talking about Matthew. “Or will they be like you and decide God doesn't care about them?”

A muscle flexed across Matthew's cheek, but he didn't answer.

 

Miles City was dressed up for Christmas. Matthew told her the town had grown up around Fort Keogh, an outpost built in 1877 to force the Crow to stay on the nearby reservation.

“We have always been half-decent and half not around here,” he continued. “Starting out it was divided—brothels and beer halls to the south, banks and pawnshops to the north.”

Glory imagined she could still see the old town in its heyday. The sidewalks were scraped clean of snow and many of the store windows had been decorated with winter scenes and outlined with tiny white lights. Most of the buildings along the main street were solid old buildings, which fit in well with her fantasy. The place, Glory decided, had charm. Some of the stores had Christmas carols playing, and the sounds carried out into the street. Even the other shoppers looked festive in their snow boots and knit scarves.

Matthew drove down the main street and then turned around. “I'm checking the cars.”

Glory looked at him.

“Making sure they're all locals,” he said.

“Surely you don't think a hit man would be looking for me in Miles City?”

“No, but I'm not taking any chances.” Matthew finally pulled into a parking space. “Let's try Buffy's first. I want to get something for the boys.”

“Me, too.”

Glory wanted to get a gift for the boys that was from her and not from the angel. Some little thing they could have to remember her visit.

The door into Buffy's opened with the ringing of a bell. Buffy's smelled of the perfume and scented soaps she could see in front of the long mirror at the end of
the store. Racks of merchandise ran sideways down the length of the store and a checkout counter was located near the front door.

“Can I help you find anything?” An older woman wearing a lilac-flowered dress spoke from behind the counter. The woman smelled of dusting powder. “We've got a special on gloves this week. Men's. Women's. Children's. The lot.”

“You must be Buffy?” Glory said, even though she knew the woman couldn't be.

“No, she's my daughter.” The woman smiled indulgently and patted the braided bun loosely knotted at the back of her neck. “She's home baking cookies for her two boys for Christmas. Boys need cookies at Christmas.”

Cookies and Christmas! Glory had forgotten. She'd decided earlier to buy some chocolate chips before they left Miles City. She wouldn't compete with their mother's oatmeal raisin cookies, but she was sure the twins would love the Beckett family chocolate chip cookies.

“Do you have any children's books?” Glory asked. Buffy must stock good books if she had children of her own. Both Josh and Joey loved having a book read to them. She'd already seen their favorites—
Curious George, The Runaway Rabbit
and a couple of Dr. Seuss books. She knew they loved adventure, and she might even find a book with lions and tigers in it.

The saleswoman nodded to the right. “Over there, behind the lunch boxes.”

Matthew watched Glory out of the corner of his eye. He also kept his eye on the door to the store. He'd already studied the three other customers inside Buffy's
and decided they were harmless. But he wasn't going to be careless. Not about Glory's safety.

He watched as she looked over the book rack. He knew she was buying presents for his sons, and he'd had a whispered conference with them before he came this morning. Josh had pressed a few nickels into his hand, asking him to buy Glory a golden crown that would light up like the one he'd seen on a Christmas card at school. Matthew suggested a shiny necklace instead. Joey, with his pennies, wanted him to buy her a mirror because he'd seen her use one when she brushed her hair at night. They both advised him that he should buy her a present, too. Matthew knew his sons were worried. They didn't want Glory to leave. He was worried, too. He hadn't known his sons would get so attached to her in just a few days. But then, why shouldn't they? He'd gotten attached himself.

“The other store is just next door.” Matthew walked over to Glory. “I don't want to rush you. Why don't I go over there now, and you can come when you're done?” The department store would take longer to check out and he didn't want Glory to know what he was doing.

Glory nodded. She had been wondering how to get Matthew out of the store so she could buy his present. She'd seen a selection of music cassettes near the counter and she'd decided to get him one. It was a gift with the right balance. It showed she didn't expect him to get her anything. It was just a friendly gift.

She waited for Matthew to walk out of the store before she headed for the cassette display. She put two books on the counter. Josh's was about a red dragon. Joey's was about a lost kitten that found his way home.
“I'll take these, and do you have any James Galway tapes?”

“I don't think so.” The salesclerk scanned the titles.

“Any instrumentalists?”

“Let me see, we've got
Piano Selections for…
” The salesclerk started to read the title as she pulled the cassette from the display. Black and white piano keys ran the length of the tape cover and there was a red rose lying across them. It looked slow moving, if nothing else.

“I'll take it,” Glory said quickly. She thought she saw Matthew's outline in the window. He was doubling back. “Just put it in the bag quick. Christmas present.”

The older woman smiled and slipped it into the bag under the two larger books.

“I thought you might want that twenty dollars I owe you,” Matthew said quietly as he came inside and held out a twenty-dollar bill.

“What twenty?” Glory looked up from her purse. She opened her wallet. There was her own twenty dollars. “It's not mine.”

“Take it anyway,” Matthew said, his voice even. “I'm sure I owe it to you for something.”

“But—”

“Go ahead and take it, sweetheart,” the clerk advised with a shrug of her shoulders. “It isn't every day your husband gives you an extra twenty for Christmas shopping.”

“He's not my husband.” Glory felt the blush creep up her neck.

Matthew smiled.

“Even more reason to take it, then.” The clerk straightened herself and glared at Matthew. “It's the
least he can do if he isn't willing to make an honest woman out of you.”

“I'm an honest woman already.” Glory lifted her chin indignantly.

“Already married?” The older woman smoothed down the skirt of her flowered dress and shook her head. “In my day—well, you don't want to hear that. It's none of my business whose bed you're sleeping in.”