An Angel for Dry Creek (18 page)

Just then a crackle of static sounded through the barn.

“It's—” Elmer's voice came out over the loudspeaker “—time.”

The rustle of the audience stilled. Elmer stood beside the manger. Someone turned off a few of the lights.

Elmer cleared his throat. “I want to thank all you friends and neighbors for coming to celebrate the birth of our Lord. The children of Dry Creek have worked hard to prepare for this pageant, and so have the adults.” Elmer paused. “We may as well get to it.” He bent his head over a Bible and began to read. “‘And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed….”'

Glory smiled. Elmer's grandfatherly voice was perfect for the reading.

The band's sound system must have been more than a microphone, because the sound of a symphony filled the barn as Joseph started to walk the length of the barn leading a young heifer that was carrying a very pregnant Mary. The girl's long robe fell against the heifer's
side and the heifer kept swishing its tail trying to get rid of the annoyance.

“‘And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem.”'

The heifer stopped in front of the wooden storefront that said Bethlehem Inn. A boy wearing a white butcher's apron came out of a door in the storefront. He was carrying a chicken under one arm and a No Vacancy sign under the other. The chicken was squawking indignantly at being carried, and when the boy went to hang the No Vacancy sign on the larger sign, the chicken escaped and flew to a perch on the very top of the stable. The boy stood watching the chicken with his mouth open.

There was silence. Mrs. Hargrove cleared her throat loudly. There was more silence.

Finally Mary spoke from her position on top of the heifer. “Does that—” she pointed to the sign the boy still held “—mean there's no room in the inn?”

“No…” The boy regained his lines. He repeated loudly, “No room in the inn.”

Mary nodded, satisfied. “I thought so. We'll stay in the stable.” And then she slid to the floor, took the heifer's rope and said with an unmistakable tone of command, “Joseph, you bring the bags. And don't forget the baby things.”

Slack jawed with surprise, Joseph watched her leave and then hurried to catch up.

A choir of children's voices started singing “Away in the Manger.”

In the hayloft Matthew had finally stopped checking equipment and sat down on the hay bale across from Glory. Glory smiled up at him and moved some of the
yards of material so Matthew could move closer. “Mrs. Hargrove must have decided to use animals after all.”

“Goes with the barn theme,” Matthew whispered.

The carol ended and Elmer's voice continued with his reading. “‘And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered….”'

“We'd better get you in that swing,” Matthew whispered. “The angel's coming up pretty soon.”

Glory nodded, stood, and then it happened. A hiccup.

“I—can't—” Glory hiccuped again. She looked at Matthew. “I've got—the—” She hiccuped again.

Some miracles happen, Matthew decided. Others are snatched out of the possibilities of the moment, like this one. He did what he'd wanted to do ever since they climbed into the loft. He dipped his head and kissed Glory.

Matthew felt surprise ripple through Glory, so he deepened the kiss. His own surprise slugged him in the belly a second later. Who would know it would be like this? Her lips tasted like molten honey. Hot and sweet. He decided he might as well hang for the real thing as for a polite peck, so he deepened it even further. He could be dead and kissing a real angel for all he knew—or cared.

Glory stopped breathing. She half thought she might have stopped living. Everything stopped except Matthew's kiss.

Matthew pulled his lips away.

“You—k-kissed—” Glory stuttered. “Me.”

“Yes.” Matthew tried to stop the lightness inside him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be able to float alongside Glory even without a swing.

“The hiccups. They stopped.” Glory put her hand
to her cheek. She needed to stop staring. He'd think she'd never been kissed before. And she had. Not like that, of course, but she had. Only, why had he kissed her now? Of course. The hiccups. That must be it. “Is that an old remedy?”

“Remedy?”

“For the hiccups. A grandmother's remedy? Like a slap on the back?”

Matthew winced. Granted, he'd thought the hiccups were a good cover for a kiss before he began the kiss, but now…Surely she knew it meant more now. And even at that, his kisses surely weren't grandmotherly.

The microphone below crackled as Elmer read. Glory stepped onto the swing. She hooked on the material that Matthew had rigged to trail beneath her. She hoped Matthew was satisfied. No one could see her feet, let alone her legs, with all that material. She watched as Matthew fastened the safety ropes.

“‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.”' Elmer's voice continued.

The boys in bathrobes and their “sheep” walked to the center of the barn and sat down. Two of the boys even lay down.

“‘And, lo,”' Elmer read. “‘An angel of the lord came upon them…”'

“I'm off,” Glory whispered to Matthew before she took a deep breath.

Matthew helped her push off. The swing slid off its mooring and she was free. She felt the rush of air as she swooped over the shepherds below. Maybe, she thought, it wouldn't be so bad being an angel, after all. She'd talked Mrs. Hargrove into letting the children sing instead of the angel, so she concentrated on flying.

Glory's ecstasy was short-lived. The chicken, perched on top of the stable, had not been there earlier in Glory's practice run. And when Glory had practiced, she hadn't had a long white train of angel gown following her in flight. It was Matthew's modesty veil. When the chicken saw the thick cloud of material coming straight at it, it panicked and took flight again. Unfortunately, by taking flight, the chicken only rose up higher until it was swept along in the train of angel gown as Glory swung low over the stable.

“Oh, oh,” Glory whispered to herself, and then added for the benefit of the passenger she carried beneath her, “Good chickie, good chickie. Just stay calm.”

The chicken didn't stay calm. It screeched indignantly as it clung with its claws and beak to the train of angel gown.

Glory reached the arc of her swing just as the dogs decided they'd rather be dogs than sheep. They started to howl at Glory as if she was the moon. She comforted herself with the thought that maybe they were baying at the chicken.

Elmer kept reading. “‘And the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”'

Glory was sore afraid herself. The weight of the chicken began to pull even harder on the gown she wore, and she heard a slow tearing sound. She'd be lucky if the bird didn't pull the gown right off her and leave her swinging in the white long johns Matthew had insisted she wear. She could just see the headlines in the
Billings Gazette:
Chicken Strips Angel At Church Pageant. She'd probably make the tabloids with that one.

Not even looking up, Elmer kept reading. “‘And the angel said unto them…”'

Glory took a deep breath. She pointed out with her white-gloved finger and shouted loudly, “‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.”'

Amazingly, Glory's words calmed the chicken. Unless—
I wonder if the poor bird finally had too much and went into shock?

With the chicken silent, the dogs quit howling and lay down like the sheep they were meant to be. Even the shepherds looked reverent as they watched the angel swing back toward the hayloft.

Elmer took up the angel's pronouncement for her. “‘For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”'

Glory swung back and straight into Matthew's arms. Unfortunately, she'd built up so much speed she knocked them both to the floor of the hayloft.

“Oh.” Glory blinked.

Elmer's voice continued. “‘And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying…'”

The children's choir began to sing “Glory to God.”

“Oh.” Glory blinked again. She was lying on top of Matthew and she couldn't seem to move. She could hear Matthew breathing beneath her. Fact is, she could feel him breathing as his chest rose and fell. He hadn't screamed, so her wings must not have jabbed him. He was all right. It was her. She couldn't move. It must be the excitement of the swing, she consoled herself. After all, look what the swing had done to that chicken—

“The chicken!” Glory exclaimed, remembering.

Matthew felt Glory lift herself up. He wanted to pull
her back and try another home remedy. As far as he was concerned, he could lie right there until he died. He was singing the Hallelujah chorus and it had nothing to do with Christmas. But she was right, there was the chicken to consider.

“It looks all right,” Glory whispered as she studied the chicken. They had unhooked the train to Glory's gown and unfolded the material until they freed the bird. The chicken fluffed itself up and then started hopping around looking for something to eat.

“Why don't you unhook my wings, too?” Glory asked. She was already kneeling. “I want to get them off before I do major damage.”

The wise men were ready to make their entrance by the time Glory and Matthew got back to the pageant. The shepherds were surrounding the manger and the children's choir was standing in front of the inn. The dogs had decided the excitement was over for the day and were lying half-asleep at their masters' feet.

Elmer's voice continued his reading, “‘When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.'”

Matthew stood up to slowly pull the metal star on the pulley toward the stable. It was rigged like an old-fashioned laundry line. In fact, as Glory looked at the brackets more closely, she saw that it
was
an old-fashioned laundry line.

Solemnly the wise men followed the star until it reached the stable.

“We brought you some presents,” one of the wise men announced proudly as he pulled out three prettily wrapped packages. The wise men turned to Mary. “We got receipts so you can return them if you want.”

Mary nodded her thanks.

The children's choir and the shepherds began to sing “Silent Night.” The pageant was drawing to a close.

 

Christmas truly was a time of goodwill, Glory thought as she shook the hand of another well-wisher. Everyone along the Yellowstone River was out and thanking her for being their angel. Why, there was almost a crowd in this barn, Glory decided as she looked over the people. She recognized a few of them. Linda, of course, and a couple of the hands from the Big Sheep Mountain Ranch. And then there was Sylvia and the rancher, talking animatedly in the corner of the barn. Glory decided now wasn't the time to go and say hello to her friend.

Mrs. Hargrove invited everyone over to the church for refreshments, and people began adjusting scarves for the walk over to the other building. Matthew stood talking with Deputy Wall.

Glory decided it was time to slip behind the stable and get her presents ready for the children. She'd seen Josh look her way several times, so she knew he was hopeful. Glory walked over to him and bent down to whisper in his ear, “Tell everyone the angel's giving out presents behind the stable in five minutes.”

Josh's eyes lit up and he nodded.

 

The Bullet had let the people of Dry Creek have their pageant. But now he watched the angel make her way to the rear of the barn.

The light was dim behind the stable, but the space was completely out of sight of the other people. And there was the angel, kneeling down and sorting through one of several huge boxes of toys.

The Bullet unbuttoned his red shirt and drew out his gun.

He'd hoped the angel would not even look up, but she did. Her eyes widened as he put his arm out and aimed the gun.

Then the Bullet heard a sound behind him.

“Santa?” a small voice asked. The Bullet turned his head slightly and saw the twin boys staring at him.

G
lory felt all the blood drain from her head when she saw the gun. She thought she'd faint. When she saw the twins, she knew she didn't have the luxury of fainting.

“Oh, boys,” she called out, hoping her voice was bright and normal. “You caught us. Santa was trying out some of the toys.”

Please, Lord,
Glory prayed.
Have the man go along with me. Let him have a heart. If I need to die, don't take the twins, too.

“He's not supposed to point guns at people,” Josh said righteously.

“That's right,” Glory agreed. “But Santa and I need a few more minutes. Go back to your dad now. And keep the other kids away, too.”

Glory kept her eyes on the killer. She begged him silently to let the twins go. “No one knows what Santa looks like,” she reminded him. “Not with a beard and the suit.”

“Yeah, get out of here, kids,” the killer finally said.

Josh turned to go, but Glory watched the indecision on Joey's face.

“Run along, Joey.” Glory tried not to let her voice plead as loudly as her heart. “Go to your dad.”

“I want us to go home, now,” Joey said softly. “We don't need more presents.”

Glory wished she were a better actress. “Please, just do what I ask, sweetheart.”

Joey waited a minute before finally turning to go. Glory watched him reluctantly step around the corner of the stable.

“Thank you,” Glory whispered softly as she looked up at the killer.

Santa nodded as he reaimed his gun.

Glory closed her eyes.

“You going to pray, too?” the man asked incredulously.

Glory opened her eyes. “If I may.” She wouldn't tell him she'd closed her eyes not to pray but so she wouldn't have to watch him pull the trigger. “Sort of my last request.”

“Hit men don't do last requests. That's the feds.” But he lowered his gun.

“Dear Lord,” Glory whispered aloud. She wanted the hit man to know she was still praying. “I've had a good life. So much to be thankful for. My mother. The captain. Sylvia. The twins—and their father—”

“Hurry it up, lady. This isn't the Oscars,” the killer interrupted. “I haven't got all day to wait while you thank the little people. Wrap it up.”

“The Oscars?” Glory forced herself to laugh. “Very clever. Did you see them?”

Santa glowered at her. “No.”

“Oh.” Glory folded her hands together just as the
twins did when they prayed. She couldn't think of what to pray when it looked as if she would see God in a few seconds anyway. Then she thought of the comforting prayer and closed her eyes to begin. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should—”

Glory heard the loud sound of a gun cocking. Odd, she thought Santa had already pulled the hammer back. Then she heard the voice.

“Hold it right there, Santa!”

Glory opened her eyes. Deputy Wall was standing with his gun aimed at Santa's belly. The only problem was that Santa still had his gun aimed at Glory. Both men seemed to realize the difficulties of that arrangement as quickly as she did.

“You shoot her, I'll get you,” Deputy Wall threatened as he steadied his aim.

Santa shrugged without lowering his gun. “She'll still be dead.”

“They'll put you away for murder if you kill her,” the deputy promised.

“They'll put me away for murder if I give up, too,” Santa countered.

Glory decided now was as good a time as any to faint. She willed herself to faint. She held her breath. In the end, she had to half fake her slide down to the barn floor.

She'd no sooner started her slide than a shot was fired. Glory's last conscious thought was that Santa swore like a sailor.

 

Matthew blamed himself all the way to the stable. Why had he let Mrs. Hargrove lead him off with some story about the wise men so that Josh took longer to
find him? Josh had gotten only the words
Santa
and
gun
out of his mouth before Matthew was frantically looking around the barn. Where was Glory?

“I told the deputy, too,” Josh was saying proudly. “He knows you shouldn't point guns at people.”

Matthew saw the deputy slip behind the stable.

“Stay here, son,” Matthew called down as he started toward the stable. His crutches were only slowing him down, so he tossed them away and started to lope along.

“Glory!” Matthew whispered when he rounded the corner and saw what was behind the stable wall. The air smelled like burned gunpowder. And Glory lay there so still.

“You shot her!” Matthew started to lunge toward Santa.

Deputy Wall dropped his gun and grabbed Matthew. Deputy Wall was 250 pounds of muscle, but he didn't stop Matthew easily. “I've wrestled bulls tamer than you.” The deputy spit the words out after he'd steadied Matthew. “That man has a gun, for Pete's sake. Keep still.”

“Don't worry. I didn't even hit her,” Santa said disgustedly. He turned so the gun was now aimed at the two men. “She slid right out of my range. The bullet hit the wall.”

Matthew took a deep breath. He looked at Glory carefully. In all of that white, blood would show up readily and so would the scorched mark a bullet would make in passing. There was no sign of either and she appeared to be breathing normally. Besides, there was a bullet hole in the back of the stable.

“You don't need to kill her, anyway.” Matthew began to pray.
Help me, God.
“Glory already told the
police about the tie-in with the rustling. The manager at the grocery store is going to turn state's evidence.”

Santa grunted. “None of my concern. Not my side of the business.”

It must have been twenty degrees in the barn, and Matthew's hands were sweating.
Lord, I need you. I won't ask for anything else. Just keep Glory alive.

“If you want to shoot someone, shoot me instead,” Matthew offered.

Matthew heard the surprised protest from Deputy Wall, but he didn't turn to look at the officer. Matthew kept his eyes trained on Santa.

“Nobody's paying me to shoot you,” Santa snorted indignantly. “I don't just go around shooting people. I'm a professional.”

“I see.” Matthew did some quick arithmetic in his head. “If you're a professional, how much would it cost to unshoot someone?”

Santa just laughed. “Money won't do me any good if I don't shoot her.”

“Ah, they'd come and get you?” Matthew asked to keep the killer talking. The longer Santa kept talking the longer Matthew had to think of something.

“That isn't the half of it,” Santa muttered into his fake beard. “It's who else they'd get that worries me.”

Matthew knew from his ministerial counseling that sometimes it was these half-muttered, throwaway lines that no one expected anyone else to listen to that were the most important in understanding a person's troubles.

“A child?” Matthew probed.

Santa shook his head and mumbled, “Girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” the deputy wailed. “How can you get a girl when I can't?”

“Charm,” Santa said without looking at the deputy.

“Aah, a girlfriend.” Matthew nodded as if he understood. He kept his eyes focused on Santa's brown eyes.
Lord, Lord, be with me.

“They've already got Millie,” Santa continued, as if the worry couldn't stay trapped inside him any longer. “If I don't shoot this Beckett woman, they'll shoot my Millie.”

“Aah.” Matthew nodded this time because he did understand. “So we're just two men trying to protect our women.”

Santa eyed Matthew skeptically. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

Matthew started to breathe again. He'd made the first rung in negotiations. He'd found a common ground from which they could work. “Now all we need to do is figure out a way to keep both of them alive.”

“Like what?” Santa asked.

Matthew began to pray even more earnestly. The bait was being nibbled. “Well, what happens if you couldn't kill Glory?”

“What do you mean ‘couldn't' kill her?”

“What if there was a storm and Montana was cut off from the rest of the country for a month? No one in or out?”

“Well…” Santa began to think. “I suppose in unusual circumstances they wouldn't hold me to the contract. But they read the papers. They'd know about a storm.”

“What about if you were arrested before you got to Glory? Like on a speeding ticket?”

“Well, I suppose if I was arrested and put in jail they couldn't complain too much,” Santa agreed, and then pointed out, “But I haven't got a speeding ticket.”

“The deputy here could give you one,” Matthew offered.

“You want me to give him a
ticket?
A cold-blooded killer? A
speeding ticket?
”

“What do you think, Santa? We could give you a speeding ticket and fingerprint you and then find out about some past crimes.”

Santa was thinking. “I work clean. You wouldn't find much. Besides, what if they found out it didn't happen that way? These guys have moles everywhere.”

“They don't have any moles in Dry Creek, Montana,” Deputy Wall said proudly.

“Well, that's probably true,” Santa said as he lowered his gun. “Might not be a better place anywhere to cut a deal.”

Matthew left the two men and went over to kneel beside Glory. He picked up her arm to feel her pulse. Her heart was certainly beating strongly.

“Now, about that ticket, what speed were you driving when you came into Dry Creek?” Deputy Wall said as he took Santa's gun.

“Hey, I thought there's no speed limit in Montana.”

“There is in towns. We're posted for forty-five. We'll say you were doing eighty.” The deputy un-clasped his handcuffs and snapped them around Santa's hands.

“She okay?” asked Deputy Wall, turning toward Matthew.

“Seems fine. Just give her a minute.”

“Aah…” Santa squirmed as the deputy started to leave. “Mind if we go out the back way? There's a lot of kids out there who don't need to see Santa in handcuffs.”

“I'll settle him in my car,” the deputy said as he passed Matthew. “Then I'll be back for Glory.”

“Back for Glory?”

“She can't stay here now,” Deputy Wall patiently explained. “There's a contract out. He—” he nodded at Santa “—he might not be the only one. We'll need to take Glory into protective custody. For her own good.”

 

Glory wondered how long she could feign unconsciousness before someone called a doctor. She supposed she needed to open her eyes, but her world was already here. She knew Matthew held her. She smelled the aftershave and heard the soft murmur of his prayers. She would lie in his arms forever if it kept Matthew praying.

But she supposed it wasn't fair.

“Glory—” The voice that finally pulled her out of her daze was Mrs. Hargrove's. The older woman's voice was determined enough to call back the dead. Glory didn't feel as if she should resist it for something as minor as a slipping spell. Glory refused to accept that she might have fainted, just for a minute. She preferred to think she'd purposely slipped into a daze.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mrs. Hargrove was pressing something wet against Glory's forehead.

Glory opened her eyes. She supposed it was time.

“You'll need to come with me,” Deputy Wall ordered Glory. “I've radioed ahead. They'll have a couple of cells ready.”

“You can't put her in jail. Not on Christmas Eve.” Mrs. Hargrove was horrified.

“I'm not putting her in jail,” the deputy explained impatiently. “Protective custody.”

“It's for the best,” Glory assured the older woman.

Glory looked up at the circle of concerned people looking down at her. All of these people would be in danger if she stayed in Dry Creek before everything was settled. If one contract killer could get through, another one might not be far behind. And bullets didn't always just hit the one for whom they were intended.

“I'll go with her to jail,” Matthew offered decisively. “That is, if you'll take the twins home with you tonight, Mrs. Hargrove?”

Mrs. Hargrove nodded. “They're so excited they'll probably fall right to sleep on my sofa.”

Matthew didn't correct her, although he was pretty sure the reverse would be true. The boys would be up all night talking about the gunman.

“And hand out the presents,” Glory added.

For the first time everyone looked at the boxes.

“That's them?” Matthew asked, and then corrected himself. “I mean, of course that's them. Glad to see they got delivered in time.”

“W-well, I'll be…” Mrs. Hargrove stammered. “I'll be.”

“The names are already on them,” Glory said. “Sylvia saw to that in the ordering.”

“Well, the children will be very pleased,” Mrs. Hargrove finally managed.

Deputy Wall cleared his throat. “We better be going.”

“I can't go like this.” Glory looked down at herself. “Let me stop and put on some jeans.”

“If you're quick about it,” the deputy agreed as Glory started to stand.

 

The jail clanked. Metal scraped every time anyone moved. And it smelled like a closed-up basement. But,
Glory thought to herself, it was safe. And Matthew was here, sitting on the cot on the other side of the cell. They were both safe. No one could shoot a bullet through those thick cement walls, and no one would even try to get in the door past the four deputies called out for special duty tonight.

“Sorry you're missing Christmas Eve with your family,” Glory called out to one of the young deputies as he walked past their opened cell.

“It's okay.” The deputy ducked his head. “We've never had a hit man in these cells.”