Catch a Fallen Angel

by Maureen Child

  She worked the pump handle and sent a stream of water rushing into the sink. Cupping her hands, she washed the soot from her face, groped blindly for a towel then turned to face the stranger in her kitchen.

  He already had bread sliced and was carrying a shank of ham to the table when he said, “Exactly what were you trying to do?"

  Maggie sent a withering look at her enemy, the stove, before glancing back to him. "I was trying to tighten that stupid chimney."

  One corner of his mouth quirked. “By tearing it apart?”

  "That was an accident." If she hadn't lost her balance on the stool, she wouldn't have grabbed at the chimney, and she wouldn't now be covered in grime, staring at a too handsome man who was still laughing at her.

  He nodded, carved a chunk of ham from the bone, and set the knife down. Taking a quick bite, he chewed and said, “I noticed you didn’t have many customers.”

  "It's been a slow day," Maggie said and figured it was none of his business that every day was a slow day. For the first time, she took a good look at him. Tall, well built, he had dark hair that curled at his shirt collar and his green eyes were shadowed by the brim of his hat. He wore a jacket and pants that had miles' worth of trail dust covering them, a white shirt buttoned all the way to the neck, and no gun on his hip. Fairly unusual for this part of the country. "Are you passing through?"

  "Actually," he said after he'd swallowed, “I was thinking of staying around town for a while."

  "Why?"

  His eyebrows lifted slightly at the question and she realized she'd done it again. People were always saying that Maggie Benson asked too many questions. But she'd always figured it was the only way to find out a damn thing. And it was a reasonable question. Regret was far too small to induce anyone passing through it to put down roots. Still, she reminded herself, for Jake's sake, she was trying to learn to curb her curiosity.

  "Never mind," she said and walked past him to get the broom out of the pantry. If she didn't get busy cleaning this up, she'd be at it all night. "It's none of my business, really."

  His gaze followed her as she worked, dragging the broom around the floor, sweeping up what looked like an ocean of soot. Several minutes passed with the only sound in the room that of the straw bristles scraping against the wood floor. Then the stranger spoke up again and Maggie turned to face him.

  "You run this place all alone?"

  "Yes," she said and couldn't quite contain the sigh that slipped out.

  "A lot of work for one person."

  “My son helps me," she said and a smile curved her mouth just thinking about Jake.

  "And your husband?"

  The smile disappeared and Maggie looked at the stranger. "I'm a widow."

  "I'm sorry." Sympathy shone in his eyes and Maggie flinched from it.

  "Don't be. It was a long time ago."

  Six years to be exact. Her late unlamented husband had taken off right after Jake was born. She'd learned months later that he'd been shot in a card game in Abilene. Apparently, he'd tried to cheat the wrong man.

  But, she told herself firmly, that was in the past. Old hurts faded, if you gave them enough time. Kersey Benson had been a sore disappointment as a husband, but he'd given her Jake and for that she'd always be grateful.

  "Must get lonesome," he said quietly.

  Maggie looked at him. "Are you?”

  "What?"

  "Lonesome."

  He laughed shortly. "Me? No."

  "Then why do you assume I am?"

  "Well"—he waved a slice of ham at her—“because…"

  “I'm a woman?”

  His smile broadened a bit. "You are that.”

  Maggie flushed. It wasn’t often a man took notice of her. Now, for this man to say something despite the layer of soot covering her was enough to fluster her momentarily. But the feeling passed just as quickly. Flattery came as easy to some men as breathing did to others.

  "Look, Mr…."

  "Donovan," he supplied. "Gabe Donovan.”

  Gabe. Gabriel. Someone had named him well. He did have the face of an angel. A fallen one.

  "Fine. Mr. Donovan, I appreciate your interest but—“

  "Mind my own business?” he asked, giving her a smile that Maggie was sure he'd used often to his benefit. Why, if she hadn't sworn off men years ago, even she might have been affected.

  "Actually," she said, "yes."

  "Fair enough," the man said and took another bite of ham. Really, he was concentrating so on that makeshift meal, Maggie guessed he hadn't been eating regularly. “But…"

  "What?"

  "If you don't mind my saying so,” he said, clearly determined to say it whether she minded or not, "it looks like you could use some help around here."

  "Help?"

  “As it happens, I’m looking for temporary work and—“

  She almost laughed. “You want a job?"

  There was that smile again.

  "Now wanting a job and needing one are two different things, I’d say."

  "Not five minutes ago, you pointed out that I didn't have any customers."

  He grinned at her and helped himself to another slice of bread.

  "And now you want a job? Doing what?"

  Pointing to the stove, he said, "I could fix that for you for starters."

  Well, she hadn't expected this. She'd seen plenty of men drifting through town looking for work. And Gabe Donovan looked like none of them. Most often, the drifters were cowhands hoping to sign on with a big ranch to sit out the winter. But Maggie would eat that stove pipe if this man had ever spent time riding herd on cattle. His suit coat might be dirty, but it had been excellently tailored. In fact, he looked more like a gambler than a hired hand…and Maggie didn’t need another gambler in her life.

  She shook her head slowly. "What do you know about fixing stoves or repairing roofs?"

  "Not much," he admitted then shrugged. "But I learn fast."

  She studied him for a long minute, then said, “You look like a man more accustomed to dealing cards than swinging a hammer."

  Eyes wide and deliberately innocent, he asked, “Would you hold a man's past against him?"

  "Easier than holding his future against him," she pointed out. Although, even as she said it, she realized that she was trying to live down her own past here in town. So who was she to say a person couldn't change?

  "What have you got to lose?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. "I need a job, you need the help. And it's only temporary in any case. I’ll be leaving town in two months."

  “What if you end up wanting to stay?" She had to ask, though she couldn't imagine him fitting in around Regret any better than she did.

  "I can't stay.”

  "Can't?'

  Gabe took a breath and said simply, "I have an… appointment I have to keep."

  He watched her, waiting. She was thinking about it, he knew. Just from studying her expression, he could tell she was leaning toward hiring him.

  "There are some things that I could use some help with," she admitted slowly, “but I don't know anything about you."

  "What's to know?" he asked. “I’m a man who needs a job and you're a woman who needs the help. A match made in Heaven." Or rather, he reminded himself, Hell.

  Before he could say more in an effort to convince her, the back door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it. A small boy raced into the room and right through the freshly swept pile of soot, scattering it up into the air where it hung like a black cloud before settling down again.

  "Jake-" she started, then caught herself as she realized it was far too late to slow the kid down any.

  "What happened?” he asked, shoving a hank of dark brown hair out of his eyes as he tossed a stack of belted schoolbooks onto the table.

  “The chimney broke." She went to her son and scooped his hair back from his forehead. "About time for a haircut, don't you think?"

  "Aw, ma…" He ducked out from under her touch. Apparently
, he was getting just old enough that caresses from his mother were more embarrassing than comforting.

  She smiled and turned the boy around to face Gabe.

  "This is my son, Jake. Jake, this is Mr. Donovan." She paused, then added, “He's going to be working here for a while.”

  He smiled at the boy. "Call me Gabe."

  "You're gonna work for my mom?" the boy asked.

  "Looks that way," he said, relieved. At least now, he'd have room and board for the next couple of months.

  "That’s good,” Jake said solemnly. "She works too hard sometimes and I don't get to see her much."

  "Well, we'll fix that then, all right?” Gabe said and looked down into brown eyes much like the woman's.

  "If you two are finished talking about me," she said lightly, "why don't you go on into the dining room, Jake, and start on your homework?”

  The boy scuffed his shoe against the floor, drawing lines in the soot. "I could do it later," he said hopefully. "Some of the other kids are going over to the stables to watch 'em break horses."

  "Homework first," she said, shaking her head.

  Gabe sympathized. He could still remember the thrill of being turned loose at the end of a school day. The last thing any kid wanted was to spend another hour or two doing more work. But apparently, the boy knew when he was beaten because he turned and, shoulders slumped, head bowed, started for the dining room.

  "Nice kid," he commented when they were alone again.

  "Yes," she said and a shine lit her eyes briefly. "He is."

  "Thanks for the job," he said.

  "You're welcome. Now as to your pay, Mr. Donovan—“

  "Gabe.”

  She nodded. "Gabe. My name's Maggie Benson."

  "Nice to meet you, Maggie." He paused then said, "Don't worry about the pay. I don't need much. Just enough to pay for a room somewhere."

  "Well, you're not hard to please, I'll say that for you,” she said on a chuckle. "As to a room…" She pointed off toward the pantry and the closed door beside it. “That's a storage room. There's a cot you can use if you don't mind small spaces. We don't have a hotel in town."

  He smiled. This was working out fine. He had a job, a place to stay, and a good spot in town from which to keep an eye out for Henry.

  But she was still talking. "Jake and I live right upstairs, if you need anything else."

  "I won't, but thanks.”

  She nodded and glanced behind her at the fallen chimney. "You'd best get that fixed as soon as you can, Gabe. The restaurant is a stage stop and we'll need to be able to cook for the passengers tomorrow.”

  "We'll be ready."

  "We, huh?" She shook her head slightly as if she could hardly believe it herself.

  Gabe couldn't help wondering why this woman was alone. There just weren't that many good-looking single women in the West. Some man should have scooped her up long before now. Hell, even covered in soot and dirt, she looked pretty damned good. He could only imagine how well she'd clean up.

  And yet, here she was alone, but for a too small boy.

  But even as he wondered, he reminded himself that he was in no position to tell someone else how to live their life. Hadn't he made a big enough mess of his own to end up in Hell? So she was alone. At least she was alive.

  At that thought, he reached out and took the broom from her. His fingers brushed against hers and he felt her warmth stagger through him as though he'd been stranded in a blizzard and had just found a fire. She seemed to notice the sensation too, because she stepped carefully back and said, "Well, I'll leave you to it. I think I'll go upstairs and have a bath before helping Jake with his schoolwork.”

  “One more thing," he said, and she stopped to look back at him over her shoulder.

  “What?”

  "Why'd you hire me?” He would have bet good money she wouldn't, and yet, she had.

  She smiled ruefully and shrugged. "I'm not sure," she told him. "Let's just say that stove pipe must've hit me on the head."

  He nodded. "Guess that's as good a reason as any."

  She looked at him for a long minute before saying, "Good luck with the chimney."

  Gabe nodded stiffly, his fingers curling tightly around the broomstick. One thing he didn't need in his last two months of life was the complication of finding himself attracted to a "good" woman. Nope. If he felt the need for a little companionship, he'd take himself down to the saloon and rent affection by the hour.

  Maggie Benson was his boss, nothing more.

  And it'd be best all the way around if he remembered that.

  Chapter Three

  Bright and early the next morning, Maggie walked into the kitchen and her gaze went directly to the stove pipe. She'd heard Gabe working on it half the night. The clang of metal pieces slapping together had been so rhythmic for a while, it had sounded as though the building itself had a heartbeat.

  And for most of the night, she'd tried to figure out exactly why she had hired a perfect stranger. Not only hired him, she reminded herself, but actually allowed him to move into the home she shared with her son. She'd slept only in fits and starts, with her splinters of dreams filled with the face of Gabe Donovan.

  What was it about him that had convinced her to let him into their lives, however temporarily?

  The small hairs at the back of her neck stood up, sending a chill along her spine, and Maggie shivered. There it was again. That feeling of… change coming. Was it Gabe? Was he the reason for the vague sense of unease in the air? Or was the lack of sleep making her silly?

  “That's probably it," she told herself firmly. After all, it wasn't as if she was worried about her new employee. In a town the size of Regret, all a woman had to do if she was feeling the slightest bit threatened was to scream. Within seconds, there would be dozens of townsfolk, most of them armed, surrounding her. Besides, Gabe didn't feel threatening.

  And that had to be the most illogical statement of all time. But illogical or not, Maggie wasn't one to disregard her feelings. Not anymore anyway. The one time she hadn't listened to her instincts, she'd paid a heavy price. And she wasn't a woman who made the same mistake twice.

  Opening the door wider, she let the dawn light drift into the room, chasing away the last of the shadows. A soft, chill breeze swept through the room, bringing the scent of the mountains with it.

  The stove was in one piece again and Maggie was glad to see all of his banging in the night hadn't been wasted. She walked across the room to inspect his work close up and had to admit she was impressed. He hadn't seemed the type to be so good with his hands. But the pipe was back in place, the break fixed. Looked near seamless, too. Smiling to herself, she bent down and stoked the smoldering coals in the firebox. Feeding slivers of pitch pine and a bit of kindling into the still warm fire bed, she waited for the flames to catch before adding larger pieces of wood. Then she closed the iron door and turned around to get busy. It was only then she noticed that not only had her newly hired man fixed the stove pipe, he'd actually mopped up the last of the soot from the floor.

  "Well," she muttered thoughtfully, "maybe hiring him was a better idea than I knew." Any man who actually knew how to use a mop was one worth keeping around.

  "I'm glad you're pleased," he said and Maggie whirled around to face him, one hand clutching at her chest.

  "You shouldn't sneak up on people that way."

  "I didn't sneak. I'm just standing here."

  "Well," she said as her heartbeat slowed down to its normal rhythm, “you could have said something."

  "I did," he said with a short laugh. “That's what scared you."

  Maggie laughed too, and tried to remember when the last time was that she'd laughed with a man. "True enough," she said. "I guess I'm just not used to having someone besides me and Jake here."

  He tilted his head to one side. "Does it bother you having me around?"

  Maybe it should have, but it didn't.

  "If it bothered me, I wouldn't have hired y
ou."

  "I just thought…some women might have hired me and then regretted it." He looked at her for a long minute. "But I don't guess you're one of those."

  Their eyes met and Maggie nodded, acknowledging the compliment. "Once I make a decision, it stays made," she said. "Regrets are pretty much a waste of time, don't you think?”

  "I suppose," he said, and for a moment his features tightened and his green eyes darkened. "But most people have a few, anyway."

  She wondered then what it was he was regretting. Because plainly, his mind was no longer on their conversation, but turned inward to thoughts that didn't appear to be at all pleasant.

  Standing in the open doorway to the storage room, he leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded across his chest, booted feet crossed at the ankle. Like her kitchen, Gabe Donovan looked better than he had the day before. Freshly shaven, he wore a white long-sleeved shirt, open at the collar, black pants, boots shined to a mirror gloss and strangely enough, a red bandana tied around the base of his neck.

  Ordinarily, you'd only see an outlaw or a cowboy wearing the scarves. Outlaws used them to hide their identity and cowboys wore them to keep from breathing in miles of trail dust. And he surely didn't look like a cowboy.

  Pointing to it, she asked, "Planning on leaving me for a trail-riding job? Or are you thinking to rob the bank after breakfast?"

  "Hmm? Oh." He smiled and reached up to finger the bandana. "I wear it for luck."

  Maggie frowned slightly. If that were true, why hadn't he been wearing it the day before? But even as she wondered, she told herself it didn't really matter. If the man wanted to pretend to himself he was a cowhand, what difference did it make to her? And if he was an outlaw? Well…he'd have to be a pretty stupid one to take a job with her only to rob someone in the same town. Somehow, Gabe Donovan didn't strike her as a stupid man. So, as long as he behaved himself around her and Jake, she wouldn't question him.

  He was watching her, as if waiting for her to ask him more questions. She surprised him by changing the subject.

  “You did nice work on the stove pipe."

  His features relaxed a bit, and if she hadn't been watching him so closely, she might not have noticed. Again she wondered what he was hiding, even while telling herself to stay out of it.