An Angel for Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  “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.

  “Amazing,” Glory complimented Tavis and Mrs. Hargrove.

  The older woman beamed. “Tavis and the other ranch hands did most of it.”

  Tavis shrugged. “Just some sawing and hammering.”

  “It’s perfect.” Sylvia added her praise.

  Mrs. Hargrove nodded proudly. “We’ve got it all set to go. The only thing we’re missing is a minister to say a prayer before we begin.” Mrs. Hargrove looked at Matthew. “It could be an already printed prayer. Maybe from a book or something.”

  “Then anybody can say it.” Matthew leaned on his crutch.

  “Not everybody has the voice,” Mrs. Hargrove explained wistfully. “There’s something about the voice of a minister. It would add the right touch.” She added quickly, “Don’t say no yet. Think about it. If you don’t do it, Elmer will stand in.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Matthew agreed as he turned around to leave.

  Glory watched Matthew walk slowly out of the barn. The floor was smooth and he had to place his crutches with care. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

  “He won’t do it.” Glory spoke aloud.

  “I’m thinking he will,” Mrs. Hargrove contradicted confidently. “He’s been walled in long enough. It’s time for him to take back his faith.”

  “I’m not even sure he’s planning to read the Christmas story to the twins,” Glory said, worrying aloud. “If he won’t do that, he surely won’t pray.”

  “Wait and see,” Mrs. Hargrove advised. “That man may surprise you.”

  The smell of chocolate chip cookies carried all through the house. Glory had added a few more ornaments to the tree so that it shone and sparkled from every angle. The nurse from Dr. Norris’s clinic had called and told her the boxes had arrived and she would bring them with her to the pageant. Knowing that the children’s presents were taken care of, Glory carefully wrapped her own gifts and placed them beneath the tree. The books for the twins were easy to tie up in red tissue paper. She had more trouble with Matthew’s gift. She hadn’t looked closely enough at the cassette when she bought it. It was Piano Selections for Lovers. Lovers! Since she didn’t have anything else for him, she’d put it in her purse. If he gave her a present, she’d give it to him.

  The big present for the twins was still upstairs in Matthew’s room—the picture she had painted of their mother. Glory imagined the look on the twins’ faces when they saw their mother for the first time. She wondered if they would ever realize that half of the love that shone out at them from the picture belonged to her, Glory. In the last brush strokes of the painting, Glory had begun to cry herself. She felt the love of the twins’ mother as surely as though the woman were standing in the room with her. And Glory felt her own love pour out of her heart onto the canvas.

  “Are you all right?” Matthew pushed open the front door and hobbled into the house. Snowflakes covered his hair and the shoulders of his wool jacket. He wasn’t using his crutches properly. He’d obviously been using his own feet and carrying the crutches.

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  Matthew frowned. “I told you to keep the door locked.”

  “Oh, there’s no need now,” Glory said. “The boys are on a plane back to Seattle.”

  “Still, we can’t be too careful.” Matthew turned around and twisted the lock.

  “Well, nobody around here is going to hurt me,” Glory protested. “At least, not with a bullet. I’m more likely to fall off that angel swing than anything.”

  “We’re going to tie you in. I’ve already thought of that and fixed it so you can’t fall. And I thought of a way to tie your skirts down while we’re at it.”

  “A straitlaced angel?”

  “Angels are supposed to be straitlaced. Besides—” Matthew caught himself and stopped.

  “Besides what?”

  Matthew smiled slightly. “Besides, you’re so beautiful nobody’s going to care about sneaking a look at your legs. They’ll just be looking at your face.”

  Glory blushed. “You’re just saying that so I’ll weaken and give you one of the cookies I made for the twins.”

  “I thought I smelled chocolate.”

  It was almost five o’clock, but it was already dark outside. The winter sky was sprinkled with stars. Matthew had added a large log to the fireplace in the living room and made spiced cider for everyone. Glory had plugged in the lights to the Christmas tree, and the twins had taken their baths early in honor of the evening.

  The twins sat on the sofa with a cookie in each hand, waiting impatiently for Matthew to finish pouring the cups of cider.

  “Before we open the presents we need to read the Christmas story.” Glory twisted two new bulbs onto the strand of lights. All of the lights shone now.

  “We could read it real fast,” Josh suggested as he took another bite of cookie.

  “Not too fast. You’ll want to know about the presents they gave to the little baby Jesus before we open ours,” Glory said, trying to make the story relevant to the boys.

  “What’d He get? Lego?” Josh asked.

  “Not exactly. He got gold, myrrh and frankincense.”

  “We know about frankin—whatever,” Josh explained. “We got a book about him at preschool.”

  “Him?” Glory was bewildered.

  “Yeah. Frankin—frankin—sense.” Josh laid his cookies down and stood up from the sofa. “He walks like this.” Josh held his arms out stiffly and clumped along.

  “Oh, Frankenstein.” Glory deciphered his meaning. “But that’s not—”

  “I’ll bet he’s a Terminator,” Joey said excitedly. “And God sent him to be a bodyguard for the baby Jesus.”

  “That’s a cool gift.” Josh sat back down on the sofa. “And I bet this Frank guy has a laser gun that zaps people.” Josh held out a pretend gun and took aim at the fireplace. “Rat-tat-tat-tat!”

  “Nobody is zapping anyone around here,” Matthew said firmly as he set down four mugs
of cider on the coffee table. “And no guns.”

  “I was pointing at the fireplace,” Josh explained. “That’s okay. It’s not people.”

  “Frankincense wasn’t a person or a machine,” Glory said as she moved one of Josh’s cookies and sat down beside the twins.

  “Oh.” Josh picked up the cookie and thought a moment. “Was it a car?”

  “They didn’t have cars when Jesus was born.”

  “No cars!” Joey squirmed closer to Glory. “What was it, then?”

  “It’s a…well, a…perfume.”

  “Like in soap?” Josh asked skeptically.

  Glory nodded. “Something like that.”

  “Who’d give a baby soap for Christmas?” Josh was getting indignant.

  “Had Jesus been a bad boy?” Joey asked in awe.

  “Well, no, not at all. Jesus was only a baby. A very good baby.”

  Josh snorted. “Good boys don’t get soap in their stocking.”

  Glory looked at the two boys and then looked at Matthew. “It wasn’t like that at all,” she protested weakly.

  “Maybe I better read the story from the Bible,” Matthew said, and grinned at Glory. “We can’t have them thinking Jesus was a bad boy or that He needed a Terminator to protect Him. Of course—” Matthew eyed his two sons thoughtfully “—He did have that trouble with the bad guys coming to get Him.”

  “Bad guys?”

  Matthew hobbled over to the bookshelf and pulled the family Bible down. He held it in his hands briefly before he turned around and came back to the sofa. “It all started two thousand years ago halfway around the world in a town called Bethlehem.”

  “Is that farther away than Billings?” Joey asked.

  “It’s a lot farther away than Billings,” Matthew assured his sons, and then looked at Glory. “Remind me to get a globe for these boys. They have no idea.”

  Glory smiled. She thought it was rather sweet for five-year-old boys to think the whole world was in their backyard.

  Glory leaned back. She couldn’t believe it. Matthew was reading the Bible to his sons as if he did it every day.