An Angel for Dry Creek

by Janet Tronstad

  “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.”

  “You know, he didn’t seem bad for a hit man,” Glory mused as she wrapped herself in the blankets she and Matthew had picked up from his house.

  From the outside office the strains of the hymn “O Holy Night” reached them in the cells.

  “Somebody thought to bring a CD player,” Matthew noted.

  “And spiced cider.” The sweet apple smell began to cut through the basement smell in their cell.

  Just then Sylvia stepped through the door from the deputy’s office. She was wearing a red Santa’s hat and carrying a big box tied up with a silver bow. Behind her came the rancher Garth Elkton, carrying a CD player and a large cup of cider.

  “Merry Christmas,” Sylvia shouted, and suddenly it was.

  An hour later Glory folded up the metallic paper. Sylvia and the rancher had set up a coffeepot of spiced cider outside. There was unmistakable tension between the two of them, but they’d done their job of delivering Christmas cheer very well. They’d even brought a large plate of cookies, compliments of the ladies at the church. There was more than enough for all the deputies and inmates. Of course, the only inmates were Glory, Matthew and the Bullet, as he called himself. Glory shuddered at the name.

  Sylvia had sat with Glory while she opened the silver box. It contained a dozen jars of homemade jam from the booth the women of Dry Creek had set up outside the barn tonight. Chokecherry jam. Rhubarb jam. It couldn’t be a more perfect gift. Every time Glory opened a jar she’d think of the people of Dry Creek. She looked across the cell at Matthew. There was one person she couldn’t bear to remember only with jam.

  “The twins will be sleeping now,” she said.

  Matthew grunted. He’d been waiting for a romantic moment and it wasn’t easy to find one in a cramped cement cell in the middle of winter. When they’d stopped by his house for Glory to change to jeans and a sweatshirt, he’d picked up the gift he’d bought for her. He was waiting for the right time to give it to her, but maybe that
moment wouldn’t come tonight. He might as well do it now. At least they were alone—something that rarely happened, as one or the other of the deputies was always walking back to chat.

  “I have a present for you.” Matthew reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a small box wrapped in white tissue paper. “It’s not much, but—”

  Glory’s face lit up. “I got a present for you, too, but it’s at your house.”

  “You’ve already given me the best Christmas gift.” Matthew handed her the box. “Being an angel in this pageant was important to my boys.”

  Glory opened the little box and pulled out a silver necklace charm in the shape of an angel. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I’ll always remember what you’ve done for me and my boys,” Matthew began. He was a man accustomed to words, so he had no excuse for not being able to just spit out the words that would tell Glory what he was feeling. But those words were hard. He wished he were a better man. He knew Glory deserved someone better. Someone whose faith had not been shipwrecked. He wasn’t going to ask her to settle for less than she deserved and he wasn’t going to ask her to wait for him to become the man she deserved. He just wanted her to know he wished it were different.

  Before Matthew could speak again, a burly barrel of a man stomped through the door.

  “Captain!” Glory whispered in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  It took the captain only an hour to get Glory and Matthew out of the cell. “There’s feds all over Dry Creek by now. Frank talked to that grocery-store manager and we found out the hit had been ordered by the men selling the stolen meat. They were afraid you’d put the pieces together and talk to that store manager. He cracked just like they suspected. They located you through the AP wire—that silly angel story.” The captain shook his head. “You were lucky. That hit man—” The captain shook his head again. “When they ran his fingerprints, they didn’t find anything. But then they checked with an informant and half the bureau headed to Dry Creek. Funny, you folks catching him here on a speeding ticket.”

  Glory shrugged. The best story of her police career, and she’d never be able to tell it around the water-cooler.

  Glory took her time repacking her suitcase. She was upstairs at Matthew’s house and the early-morning sun was just beginning to warm up the sky. The captain had insisted she return with him, and he was right. Until the business of the contract on her was settled, she didn’t want to jeopardize Matthew or the boys. So, instead of thinking of excuses to stay another day, she folded her socks and laid them in the suitcase one pair at a time.

  Even inside the house, Glory could feel the activity in Dry Creek. The captain was outside now talking with the federal agents who were combing through Dry Creek looking for clues. They were mildly puzzled that a pro like the Bullet would trip up on a traffic ticket, but they were so relieved to have him in custody they didn’t press their questions.

  Finally, Glory snapped the lid shut on her suitcase. It was time.

  Glory started down the stairs for the last time, smiling slightly when she came to the step where Matthew had fallen. That one step had changed her whole life. They should put a plaque there, she mused.

  Matthew was sitting on the sofa waiting for her. Glory had half expected him to be outside checking with the feds to make sure they kept her safe, but he appeared willing to let them do their jobs now that they were here in such numbers.

  With each step down Glory took, she tried to think of something suitable to say to Matthew. But her mind was as empty as her heart was full. None of the words seemed right.

  It wasn’t until Glory reached the last step on the stairs that she realized what Matthew was doing. He was staring at the portrait of his late wife, Susie. Glory had put all of the twins’ presents down under the tree so that they’d see them when they came over later this morning. She hadn’t wrapped the portrait, so they could see their mother the first thing. She hadn’t counted on Matthew sitting on the sofa silently weeping in front of the woman’s picture.

  All of the hopeful words that Glory had been trying to form died unspoken. What could she say to a man who was still so in love with his late wife that he sat there weeping?

  “Take care of the twins.” Glory managed the words. She focused on Matthew’s back. “I’ll stop at Mrs. Hargrove’s to tell them goodbye.”

  “Goodbye?” The word seemed dragged from Matthew.

  He turned to look at her. Glory meant to look away, but she couldn’t. The pain and despair in Matthew’s eyes struck deep inside her. His cheeks were wet with new tears and his eyes were red with unshed ones. He must still love his wife very much.

  “You’re not going?”

  “I’ll call,” Glory said as she stumbled to the door. It was time for her to leave.

  “But—?” Matthew protested, and then mumbled in defeat, “Maybe it is best for now. You’ll call?”

  Glory nodded as she opened the door. She didn’t trust her voice to speak.

  The Bullet waited impatiently for morning. He had one call coming, and he didn’t want to waste it on the answering machine.

  The Bullet punched in the numbers and held his breath. One ring. Two rings—

  “Hello, Millie’s place.” A man’s voice answered.

  The Bullet almost hung up, but he needed to know. “Is Millie there?”

  “Forrest, is that you?” The man’s voice warmed. “It’s me. Douglas from Spokane.”

  “Douglas?”

  “Yeah, I got Millie’s number off the shipping label you left and called to wish her a Merry Christmas. We got to talking and she invited me out to spend the holiday with the two of you. Only you never showed. You all right?”

  “Not exactly.” Relief poured through the Bullet. Douglas would take care of Millie. He’d ask him to take her back to Spokane. No one would find her there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Almost two months later, Glory was sitting at her drawing board in the Seattle police station. She was spending as much time as possible at work. The captain had insisted she stay with him and her mother until the federal agents arrested the distributors in the cattle-rustling ring. Glory had given in to the captain rather than argue. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to be alone. For weeks she kept expecting to hear the twins giggle, and then she’d look up from her sketching or her reading and realize she’d probably never see them again—or their father.

  Being with her family helped her feel better, but she couldn’t stay with them forever. The feds had arrested the distributors last week, and she had moved back into her own apartment. The distributors had squealed loud and clear, but they didn’t know enough to help the feds find the actual rustlers. Still, Glory was safe.

  She had thought that when she moved back into her apartment she’d feel more like her old self, but she didn’t. Her life stretched forward with nothing but gray in it.

  Glory laid down the black pencil she held in her hand and sighed. The face of crime never changed. All of the perpetrators were beginning to look alike. Actually, in her moments of acute honesty, she realized they all had a tendency to look like Matthew. It didn’t help that today was Valentine’s Day and that was the deadline she’d set for him. When she first returned to Seattle, she’d had a message on her answering machine telling her he’d call later when he had things worked out. Later was stretching into never as far as she could tell. If he hadn’t called her by today, she decided that someplace deep and cold she’d bury her hopes of being with him. Like the North Pole. Or maybe Siberia.

  “Anyone home?” Sylvia stood in the door of Glory’s small office with her hands behind her back and a secretive smile spreading across her face.

  “Come in.” Glory welcomed her friend, grateful for the distraction. “What brings you here on a work day?”

  “Roses,” Sylvia replied as she stepped into the office. “Or should I say one rose?”

  Sylvia held a vase with a yellow rose. “For you—from some of t
he kids.”

  “John and K.J.?”

  Sylvia nodded as she set the vase on the corner of Glory’s table. “They still feel bad about that contract business.”

  Glory chuckled. “Tell them thanks for the rose and for not fulfilling the contract.”

  Sylvia nodded as she settled into a chair. “Don’t suppose you heard from anyone else on Valentine’s Day? Say someone from Dry Creek?”

  Glory snorted. “Of course not. It would appear the phone lines don’t work between here and Dry Creek, even though Garth Elkton seems to do fine.”

  Sylvia blushed. “Garth only called once—and that was to ask about the kids. And you,” Sylvia continued. “He asked about you. Said something about Matthew being depressed. Speaking of whom, I thought Matthew asked you to call?”

  “But that was months ago. He should call. I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “Well, maybe he doesn’t, either.”

  “He could send a postcard.”

  Sylvia winced. “Ever try to put your heart on a postcard?”

  “Even that man—the Bullet—sent me a postcard from prison. To apologize. And let me know he’s in a Bible study there. He managed to write.”

  “Well, don’t be too hard on Matthew. After all—” Sylvia stood up and flung her arms wide “—he came all the way to Seattle to see you.”

  Glory shook her ears. She wasn’t hearing right. “What?”

  “He came all the way to Seattle to see you,” Sylvia repeated with satisfaction in her voice. “Garth brought him.”

  “Oh.” The pieces clicked into place now. “Garth brought him?”

  Sylvia nodded. “Garth thought the two of you needed to talk.”

  “You don’t suppose it’s the other way around, do you? That Garth wanted to talk to you and Matthew is his excuse?”

  “Don’t be silly. Garth didn’t even know where to find me. He had to hunt on foot for the center. Almost got into trouble until John rescued him. By the way, Matthew’s taking you out to dinner tonight.”