An Angel for Dry Creek (7 page)

“Community service?” Matthew asked in surprise. “Doing what? All our roads are snowpacked. We don't have a jail. Or a library. Not even a post office. We don't need anything done.”

“Except,” Mrs. Hargrove interrupted hesitantly, “we do need an angel for the Christmas pageant.”

“Ah, yes, the pageant.” Matthew sighed. Odd how this pageant had grown so big in the minds of everyone this year. Several of the churches in Miles City had decided to send a few visitors to Dry Creek for the annual Christmas Eve pageant. It all sounded very friendly. But Matthew knew enough about churches to know what was happening. A few do-gooders in Miles City had asked a handful of single people, likely mostly widows, to visit Dry Creek on Christmas Eve and they'd accepted, feeling righteous. No doubt it was a gracious way for the churches to deliver food baskets to some of the poorer families in Dry Creek. But even after they hosted their pageant, Matthew doubted the people of Dry Creek would accept charity. The people of Dry Creek were proud and they'd get by on their own or not at all. Food baskets from outsiders would not be welcome.

“We've got the costume—wings, robe, everything,” Mrs. Hargrove continued, “All we need is the angel.”

“That's settled, then,” the deputy said as he pulled out his ticket book.

It wasn't settled at all in Glory's mind, but she decided to take the hastily scrawled ticket so the deputy would leave. There'd be no fine. She knew any judge
would dismiss the charges when he saw the ticket. She'd save her objections for later.

The only reason Glory let Mrs. Hargrove talk her into looking at the costumes was so Matthew would sit down. He was being gallant and standing with his shoulder leaning on his crutch. At least if they moved to the costumes, he'd take a seat.

The costumes were stored in a small room on the other side of the church kitchen. Mrs. Hargrove pointed it out and then left with the children. The room had one small square window, high on the wall, and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Glory stood on a small stool to pull down the angel wings. Matthew sat on a hard-backed chair in the corner of the room.

“Watch the dust,” Matthew warned as Glory pulled the wings off the high shelf. Waves of dust floated down over her.

Glory sneezed. “Too late.”

Yes, it is too late, Matthew thought to himself glumly. He'd vowed to keep his secret, and now it would be all over Dry Creek in minutes. And the irony was it wasn't true anymore. He was no more a minister than Glory was an angel. Less, in fact, because when she stood with her head in front of that single bulb, she at least looked like an angel. Flying copper hair with flecks of gold. Milky skin. A voice that melted over him like warm honey. He found himself wishing he were still a minister, that his life had been uncomplicated by searing grief and confused pain. He already knew Glory well enough to know she'd never settle for less than a godly man. A man of faith. A man he, Matthew, couldn't be anymore.

“I expect the halo's up there, too,” Matthew added as Glory dusted off the white cardboard wings. He
could see the strand of gold Christmas garland hanging over the top shelf.

“You know, I'd be happy to do something else for community service,” Glory said as she pulled the old garland off the shelf. It had lost most of its glitter and all of its fluff. “I could give painting lessons or something.”

Matthew didn't voice his protest. He'd developed a longing almost as intense as his sons to see Glory dressed up in an angel costume. “I think Henry has some gold garland at the store. You could use that if you want.”

“I don't know.” Glory sat down on the stool. A faint cloud of dust still fell down around her. “I just don't feel like an angel this year.”

“Oh.” Matthew didn't want to press. He hoped the one word was enough.

“Well, look at me,” Glory said. “Here I am—broke, in a strange town, almost arrested, uncertain what to do next with my life.”

“Yeah, I suppose angels never wonder what to do,” Matthew agreed. For a minute he thought Glory was reading his mind and heart. Then he saw the confusion on her face. He shifted on his chair so he could see her better. “They just get their marching orders and they march. Piece of cake. But none of the excitement of being human.”

“I guess the grass is always greener. We look at them. They look at us,” Glory agreed quietly and then asked, “Do you believe angels are really jealous of us?”

“I'm not a minister anymore.” Matthew began his standard disclaimer. He was no longer qualified to give
spiritual advice. “I mean, I'm licensed still. But that's all. Just for the state.”

“I figured that out,” Glory said. When she'd heard Matthew admit to being a minister, she'd felt the pieces click in her heart. Matthew as a minister made sense. “But that's not why I'm asking. I just want to know what you think.”

Matthew leaned back. He tried to separate what he believed from what he'd trained himself to believe. When he was a minister, he'd chased away any question, any doubt. He believed in confidence. Now he was just Matthew.

“Yes,” Matthew finally said. “Yes, I think they must envy us. We can have babies.”

Glory smiled. “I never thought of that.”

Matthew caught his breath. He was grateful for the shadows that hid him in the small room. She was beautiful when she smiled. Like a Botticelli goddess.

“What's it like?” Glory asked quietly, and startled Matthew. For a second he thought she was reading his mind; then he realized she was talking about babies. “When you had the twins,” she continued. “What was it like?”

“Like winning the World Series.”

“I thought it might be something like that,” she said. “I envy you.”

“Someday you'll know what I mean,” Matthew said. The picture of Glory with a baby glowed warm inside of him. He bet the little thing would have milk-white skin and red hair. “It's like no other feeling. I can't even describe it. You'll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

“I guess so,” Glory agreed. She didn't want to tell him that there was no point in waiting—she knew she'd
never have a baby. The accident had snatched that dream away from her. It wasn't that she didn't think he'd understand. He'd obviously known pain in his life. Maybe he'd understand too well. She just didn't want to see pity fill his eyes when he looked at her. And what else could he feel but pity? That's one of the reasons she'd avoided becoming close to men. She didn't want to see that look in the eyes of someone she loved.

“Will you have more babies?” Glory asked, and then hurried on at the surprised look on Matthew face. “I mean, if you remarried, would you want to have more children?”

“Children are the trump card in life. I'd have as many as I could.”

Glory nodded. That was good. It was as it should be. He was a good father. His sons were good. It was all very good. It just didn't include anyone like her. “I'd like to go look for that garland now.”

Matthew watched the light leave Glory's face. She put the cardboard wings under her arm and headed for the door. He had no choice but to follow.

The cold air hit Glory in the face and pinched the color out of her cheeks. It was only a hundred feet between the door to the hardware store and the door to the church, but it felt as if the few steps iced her to the soul. She needed to stop thinking about babies that would never be born. Her guilt was over. Her mother had forgiven her. God had forgiven her. Some days she'd even managed to forgive herself. It was over. She needed to stop grieving.

The smell of coffee greeted her when she stepped back into the warmth of the hardware store. Elmer and Jacob were still arguing.

“Heard them federal boys are going to close in on the rustlers now that they figured it isn't just happening here,” Jacob insisted.

Elmer waved the words away. “They aren't even close. They don't know how. Why or when. What've they got? Nothing.”

“They'll find them at the inspection plants, now that they're requiring papers before they grade the meat,” Jacob said almost fiercely. “They'll find them. They've got to.”

Elmer opened his mouth and then saw Glory. His mouth hung open for a full minute before it formed into an excited oval. He turned to Jacob and gummed his mouth several times before he got the words out. “Blazes, why didn't we think of it before?”

“Huh?”

“Look at her.” Elmer pointed to Glory.

Glory's heard sank. She had a feeling she was falling deeper.

“She's a government agent,” Elmer said triumphantly. “I heard rumors they were hiring a civilian to look into the cattle problem. She's a spy.”

Glory shook her head. First angels and then spies. “You boys need to get out more.”

“Don't worry, we understand,” Elmer said with a wink. “You don't want to blow your cover.”

“I don't have a cover,” Glory said patiently as she heard the door open behind her. A gust of wind blew against her back and then stopped as the door closed.

“Why would you need a cover?” Matthew said as he used his crutch to hobble over to the counter. The dreams of Glory in his bed had stayed with him all day. “Didn't the twins get you an extra blanket last night?”

Glory blushed. “It's not that kind of cover.” Glory
pulled herself together. Maybe she'd sleep on the floor tonight. It didn't seem quite right to sleep in Matthew's bed. “They mean cover like spy cover. They think I'm a spy for the government. Looking into some cattle business.”

Matthew leaned his crutch against the counter. So that was it. Maybe it was business that brought a woman like her to a small town on the backside of Montana.

“You never did say why you were driving through,” he said, keeping his voice light and casual. She'd be a good spy. That innocent look of hers hid a quick mind. He wondered if she worked for the FBI or the Department of Agriculture. “Or where you were headed.”

“I wasn't headed anywhere. I was just driving,” Glory said.

“It's winter. Most folks don't go driving through Montana for pleasure this time of year,” Matthew countered. The passes were slippery over the Rockies and even the flatlands had their share of ice and snow. No, Montana wasn't a pleasant drive in the winter.

Glory shrugged. “I'm not most folks.”

She had him there, Matthew thought. There was nothing ordinary or plain about her. She was the exotic orchid of the flower kingdom. The red-hot pepper of the spice family. The flaming gold of the color spectrum. He had a fleeting desire to tell her so. But then a thought came from left field and slugged him in the stomach. If she was undercover, she was someone else in another life. She could be someone's mother. She could be someone's daughter. Worse yet, she could be someone's wife.

“I could talk to the deputy if you've got somewhere else to be on Christmas,” Matthew said. His stomach
muscles tensed. She'd want to be with her husband on Christmas if she had one. “He can't hold you here.”

“I'd thought about spending Christmas with my mother.”

Matthew's stomach knotted. The mother could be a husband as easily as he stood here. “In Seattle?”

Glory nodded.

“You won't have a white Christmas there,” Matthew offered. It was none of his business if she had another life that had nothing to do with Dry Creek, but he couldn't stop himself. “The twins would love to have you stay.”

Glory stopped her head from nodding. She'd love to spend Christmas with the twins as much as they wanted her to spend it with them. But she had more wisdom than the twins. She knew that sometimes a day's happiness came with a price tag attached. If she stayed for Christmas, she'd regret it later when she had to leave. And leave she would. Because as much as she might dream about a life with someone like Matthew, she wasn't the woman for him.

 

No one could accuse the churches in Spokane of being quiet. It was prayer meeting night, and the Bullet sat first on the outside steps of one church and then another. He heard it all. John 3:16. “Amazing Grace.” The Lord's Prayer. He'd felt a little self-conscious just sitting outside, but he did anyway. He wasn't fit to go inside, and he knew it. Besides, he needed to be at the door before anyone came out so he could be sure to see the woman if she left.

His plan earned him a few curious looks, but he congratulated himself on doing fine until he reached a church on the east side.

“Give me a hand,” the old man asked as he started to climb the stairs.

The Bullet looked around, but everyone else was already inside the church. There was no one to help the man but him.

M
atthew was true to his word, Glory thought. Dinner her second night not only didn't float in milk, it didn't come from a cardboard box, either. He made a salmon loaf, baked potatoes and green beans. There were fresh chives for the baked potatoes and mushrooms in the green beans. Betty Crocker couldn't have done better.

“I could help,” Glory said for the tenth time since Matthew had shooed her out of the kitchen. She listened to pans rattle as she sat on the sofa and Matthew did dishes. Glory tried to remember if she'd ever had a man make her dinner before—and then insist on doing the dishes even though he was on crutches. Not that Matthew had made the dinner especially for her, she reminded herself. The twins had needed dinner, too.

“Please, let me help. I'm not used to being waited on.” She started to get up from the sofa.

Matthew grunted from the kitchen. “Stay put. Do you good to take it easy.”

Two pairs of twin arms reached up to pull her back to the sofa.

“Don't angels have daddies to cook for them?” Joey asked quietly as she settled back down. He pressed so close to her she could feel his worry. “I told my daddy he needed to make angel food cake. Maybe then you'd stay.”

Glory smoothed back the hair on Joey's forehead. “You don't need to feed me angel cake.”

“We had to give our fish some fish food. That's all they ate,” Josh added solemnly as though she hadn't spoken. He was on her other side. “They ate and ate, but they died anyway.”

“Do fish go to heaven when they die?” Joey looked up at her quizzically.

“No, silly,” Josh answered for her. “There's no water in heaven. Only clouds. Isn't that right?” He looked to Glory for reinforcement and then added scornfully, “Besides, fish can't be angels. They can't fly.”

“You know, we should learn about angels,” Glory said decisively. She remembered her father always took this tactic when she was a child. Everything led to a lesson. Once the twins learned about real angels, maybe they'd let her be human. The truth did set people free, even if those people were only five years old. “Let me go get a Bible.”

“We got one.” Josh ran to a shelf and pulled down an old black Bible. The gold lettering on the front said “Family Bible,” and the back of the leather cover looked as if it had been scorched. Josh carried the Bible to her as if it was a basket of precious jewels. Glory put her fingers to the burned mark around the edge just to be sure. So, she thought, smiling, something had been snatched from that fire after all. There was hope for Matthew yet.

“Are you going to tell us about an angel?” Joey asked, his voice low and excited.

Glory flipped through the Bible. She knew just the angel for the boys. “Not only an angel, but some big cats, too.”

Glory saw their eyes grow big.

“The king made a rule…” Glory said, beginning to paraphrase chapter six of Daniel. She knew the story well. She didn't need to read it from the Bible that lay on her lap.

The twins listened to the king's dilemma and the story of his evil advisors.

“Finally the king had no choice. He'd been tricked. He needed to put Daniel in a den with big cats called lions.”

“Mrs. Hargrove told us about the lions,” Joey whispered as he moved closer to Glory. “They eat people.”

Josh shivered and snuggled closer to her other side. “I want a dog. No cats.”

“These are special cats.” Glory put an arm around each boy. They both shifted closer. “Not like the cats you know. Much, much bigger than the cats around here.”

“A trillion times bigger?” Josh asked. He was clearly relishing the story.

“Almost. And there's no need to be afraid. There aren't any lions around here.”

The twins looked momentarily disappointed and then Josh said. “But there's cats. Mr. Gossett next door has cats. They'll get you.”

“Cats might scratch you, but they won't eat you.”

“But they're
Mr. Gossett's
cats,” Josh said as though that explained everything. “He doesn't eat. He drinks his meals. Mrs. Hargrove says.”

“Maybe his cats don't eat, either.” Joey took up the thought excitedly. “Maybe they lick you instead. Like an ice cream cone. Maybe that's how they eat. Lick, lick, lick—then you're gone. I've seen them lick people.” He shivered. “I don't want them to lick me.”

“You can't get licked away.” Glory had forgotten how much young boys liked to flirt with danger. “Or get drunk away. Or bitten away. You're completely safe with cats.”

Glory showed the twins the picture in the Bible. The reds and blues of the scene had faded, but the lions looked scary. And the angel still looked majestic with his flowing white robes and golden hair.

“That's an angel,” Joey said in awe as he traced the picture. “With real wings.”

Glory felt a pair of little hands reach up and lightly touch her shoulder blades as though checking.

“No wings,” she assured them.

 

Matthew turned the light off in the kitchen and leaned against the doorway leading to the living room. He'd built a fire earlier, and the light made Glory and his sons look golden. Their heads were bent together over a book, two little blond heads with a bronze one in the middle. He had heard the excited whispers as he washed the dishes in the kitchen. He felt a swell of contentment fill him. He'd do more than wash a few dishes to give his sons time with a woman like Glory.

Then the shadows shifted, and Matthew saw what the three were reading. He tensed. The Bible. He'd bought that Bible when the twins were born. Susie had used it to record the twins' births—their weight, height and first gestures. They'd planned to be a family around that Bible. He and Susie had read from it for family
devotions when the twins were in their strollers. They'd planned to record their anniversaries in the book and the births of more babies.

“It's time for bed,” Matthew said abruptly. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised the twins had found the Bible. It wasn't hidden. He just hadn't expected to deal with their claim on it so soon.

“Aah,” Josh groaned. “We were just at the good part.”

“We can finish it tomorrow night,” Glory said as she hugged each of the boys and then took her arm away so they could scoot off the sofa.

“Can we get a den?” Josh turned to Matthew. “Ricky's family has a den.”

“Different kind of den.” Glory tried to pluck the thought from him before he got going in that direction. “This kind of den is a cave. It's made from rock. All dark inside.”

“Oh.” Josh seemed to be thinking.

Matthew smiled. He didn't tell Glory, but he already knew a den would be made from blankets tomorrow. Josh loved acting. “Get washed up and I'll tuck you in.” The boys ran out of the room.

“You can't!” Alarms went off in Glory's stomach. All thoughts of cats and dens vanished.
Tuck them in! Tucking in meant Matthew upstairs in the twins' room!
Matthew wasn't supposed to be able to climb stairs. She wasn't sure she wanted him to see the cocoon she'd built in his bed last night. She'd wrapped blankets around herself snugly, but she'd lined up one of his pillows to lie beside her in the night. She'd told the twins the pillow was her teddy bear, but a grown man would…well, he might see it differently.

“Figure of speech,” Matthew said as he watched
Glory's face. The gold from the fire and the blush fanning out over her face made her look like rare porcelain. “I meant I'd give them a kiss good-night. Down here, of course.”

“Of course.” Glory smoothed down her skirt. “I should go up, too.”

“It's only seven-thirty,” Matthew protested as he lowered himself onto the sofa and propped his crutches against the wall. His shoulders ached and the palms of his hands burned where he leaned on the crossbar of the crutch. He should be thinking of sleep himself, but he was wide-awake. It occurred to him that his twins weren't the only ones who missed having some quiet time with a woman. “Sit with me for a while and talk.”

Glory hesitated. The sofa that had seemed so large when she and the twins were sitting on it seemed to have shrunk now that Matthew was on the other end. She didn't want to be skittish and scoot over to the edge of the sofa, but she wasn't sure it felt safe to be within reaching distance of Matthew. Not that she expected him to reach for her, she told herself. Be reasonable. He only wants some light conversation after a day's work.

Matthew watched the reluctance streak across her face, and he remembered Elmer's words about her being an undercover agent. He wondered if she was remembering a husband or boyfriend who laid claim to her real life. He sure wished he knew if she was undercover.

“We don't usually have salmon, not even canned—not this close to the Big Sheep Mountains,” he began. His mouth was dry. He wasn't used to entrapping a federal agent. “These mountains are cattle country through and through. Folks here pride themselves on
beefsteaks, even now with all the…” He deliberately let his voice trail off to see if she'd pick up the scent like a federal agent would.

“Yes, the rustling.” Glory latched on to the topic with relief. Nothing could be more impersonal than beefsteaks, she thought to herself with satisfaction. “How long has that been going on? Tell me everything you know.”

Matthew's heart sank. She'd taken the bait with gusto. Maybe she was an agent, after all. Why else would a woman from out of town care about the rustling? “Cattle have been missing for the past year, I suppose. Probably started last winter. They free range most of the cattle around here in the winter, and so they don't do a complete count until the snow thaws and it comes close to calving time.”

“Surely they don't leave those cows out all winter?” Glory asked in alarm.

Matthew smiled. That narrowed the field some. Unless she was a very good actress, she didn't work for the Department of Agriculture. “They have windbreaks set up, sometimes sheds, and the cows grow a thick coat. If it's real cold they can always wander down to the fences and someone will let them into the barn area. And they drop bales of hay to them, by pickup mostly. In bad winters they've dropped hay from small planes or helicopters.”

“Well, maybe there's no rustling at all,” Glory offered. She was having a hard time concentrating now that Matthew had started rubbing his shoulder. The crutches must be giving him trouble. His hands were what were giving her trouble. They were large and muscled, lightly haired and lightly tanned. “Maybe the cows are still out there.”

“That's why it's so hard to know for sure when it all started,” Matthew admitted. His hands found the knot in his shoulder and he sighed as he rubbed it. “A few cows here and there—who knows? Maybe they're holed up in a gully somewhere. But the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch has had their hands riding all over the range—covered it with a fine-tooth comb and didn't find the cattle or any carcasses. There needs to be one or the other. Even the buzzards can't carry off a whole cow.”

“Sounds just like the Old West,” Glory said. She'd never given too much thought to the life of a cow. Or a buzzard. Or a cowboy. “Is it the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch that's thinking of becoming a dude ranch?”

Matthew winced. His fingers had hit a nerve on his shoulder. “They don't call it dude ranch around here. I think the politically correct term is guest ranch. Doesn't offend the ‘guests' as much. And, yes, it is the Big Sheep. If they follow through. They've had some tourism consultant down from Helena. It appears the scenery around the Big Sheep Mountains is as valuable as the cows. Maybe more so when you throw in the fact that we've got the Tongue River and the Yellowstone River close by and we're not far from Medicine Rock State Park. Some say we're the not-so-bad part of the Badlands, too.”

“Well, at least the town will survive, then.” Glory bit her lip. She shouldn't say anything, but Matthew was going to be even more sore after he finished trying to massage his one shoulder. His angle was all wrong.

“There's survival and there's survival. Some folks think the dudes will change the town so much we might as well lie down and die in the first place. Go with dignity. Elmer keeps going on about how he doesn't
want to have to look the part of a rancher when he's face-to-face with some fancy lawyer who's only coming here for two weeks to pretend he does something real with his life. Says the old ghosts of all those cow-hands that used to ride for the XIT Ranch in its glory will rise up and protest if we sell out like that.”

“What do the women think?” Glory shifted on the sofa. Now Matthew was both massaging at the wrong angle and twisting his shoulder the wrong way, too. He'd throw his back out if he wasn't careful.

Matthew chuckled. “Mrs. Hargrove is all set to evangelize the dudes.”

Glory couldn't stand it any longer. “Here. Let me massage that for you. You're going to end up back in the clinic.”

Glory stood behind the sofa and put her hands on Matthew's shoulder. She'd kneaded the shoulders of a fair number of tired cops in her day down at the station. This shouldn't be any different. It shouldn't matter that firelight instead of fluorescent light streamed into the room or that her heart beat a little too fast when she touched one particular man's shoulders.

Matthew sighed. Maybe Glory was an angel, after all. Her touch certainly put him in mind of heaven.

“Well, Mrs. Hargrove might do some good that way.” Glory refocused on the conversation. She needed to concentrate. “With her evangelistic zeal.”

“I don't know about that. You know as well as I do they'll only see her as ‘local scenery.' A person has a right to be taken more seriously than that. I'd rather folks openly disagreed with her rather than see her as scenery.”