When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance

by Maureen Child

  The boy watched her go and told himself if he was a bettin' man, which he wasn't, he'd bet he wouldn't be seein' her later at all. Not if she was going to try to tell Brady that she was his fiancée.

  Everybody knew Brady didn't take kindly to liars and cheats.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Everything looked achingly familiar — yet different, at the same time. Patience closed the door of the dressmaker's shop behind her and walked to the edge of the boardwalk. Letting her gaze shift down the length of the main street, she took in the town of Fortune as it slowly came to life.

  Apparently, there'd been a rainstorm the night before, though she had no recollection of it. Which was certainly odd. Almost as odd as waking up on the floor of the dress shop. But as soon as that thought fluttered through her mind, her head pounded in response, so she set the thought aside for the moment. After all, it didn't really matter why she'd been in the dress shop, did it? All that was important was seeing Brady and assuring him that she was safe.

  Blinking at the brilliant sunshine pouring down onto Fortune, Patience smiled to herself. It was a good morning to be alive, she thought, and set off down the boardwalk, grateful that she didn't have to step off into the muddy street.

  Behind her, a door opened and shut, then before she could wonder who it was, Davey Howard ran past her. Glancing back at her briefly, he never slowed down. Shirt tail fluttering, boot heels clattering on the wooden walk, he raced down the uneven boardwalk as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

  "Well, now," she wondered aloud, as the boy leapt over Marvin Soarnes's sleeping dog, “what in heaven is wrong with him?"

  In the next instant, though, she dismissed his actions by remembering that children sometimes had no reason at all for peculiar behavior. Besides, her head pounded forcefully and Patience had the oddest feeling that she was somehow forgetting… something. Frowning to herself, she paused and tried to think what it might be. Nothing came though and trying to probe her memory only made the ache in her head more insistent. Lifting one hand, she rubbed at a spot between her eyes in an effort to ease back the discomfort.

  Continuing on toward the saloon, she fought that niggling sensation that she should be doing — something. Whatever it was would come to her no doubt. She seldom forgot even the tiniest detail.

  Patience sailed down the boardwalk, running the length of Main Street with purpose in her steps. The walkway rose and fell like ocean waves, but the unevenness of it didn't slow her one bit. Chin lifted, shoulders back, she glanced around as she went. Storefront doors opened as she passed, almost as though someone had sent word that she would be arriving.

  "Good morning, Mr. Taylor," she sang out, giving the short, bald-headed barber a winning smile.

  "Ma'am," he replied with a nod, a bemused expression flitting across his features.

  Odd, Patience told herself. The little man was usually far more talkative. So much so, in fact, that most townspeople crossed the street to avoid having to stop and be drawn into an unending conversation with the friendly but long-winded fellow.

  She felt his gaze on her back as she continued on, but thought no more about him. Instead, she smiled at Vonda Shales as the tall, thin woman opened the door of her laundry and waved to Treasure Morgan as she swept the steps of the Mercantile.

  Both women smiled, but Patience didn't notice the curious expressions stamped on their features. She was simply too intent on reaching the saloon. And Brady.

  "She's comin'!" Davey Howard shouted out his warning, then bent over, hands on his knees and struggled for air.

  Brady chuckled, shook his head, and settled into one of the captain's chairs drawn up to an empty card table. Apparently, the kid had run all the way from up the street to deliver his piece of news.

  "Slow down, boy," he said, reaching for his second cup of coffee. "Nothin's important enough to get a man to be running first thing in the morning."

  Hell, this was the best part of the day as far as Brady was concerned. Most gamblers he knew didn't even bother waking up until late afternoon. But Brady'd always enjoyed the peace and quiet to be found in an empty saloon. A man could think and not have his thoughts rattled by a bunch of noisy drunks or an out-of-tune piano played by a fella with very little enthusiasm and less talent. But then, you couldn't expect to find a good piano player working in a saloon for tips and free beer.

  His gaze slid around the main room and he smiled to himself. Maybe there were bigger and better saloons, but this one was his. His business. His home. Hell, the first real home he'd ever had.

  And as that thought presented itself, a flicker of guilt crept in and ruined it Scowling to himself, he shifted in his chair and told himself to forget that night two years ago when he'd won the deed to the place. And though that memory would never really leave him, it did at least fade into the background for now.

  The past was done. Nothing could be changed. He'd charted his course long ago and now all he could do was keep moving fast enough that the ghosts trailing after him couldn't keep up.

  But for now, he was more interested in what had brought Davey Howard to his door first thing in the morning.

  He stretched out his legs and crossed one booted foot atop the other as he stared at the kid opposite him. The boy's shirt was torn but clean, and his hands looked almost blue from the early morning cold. He needed a coat, Brady thought and knew even as he considered getting him one that the boy wouldn't take it.

  Kid had more pride than some men twice his age and size. And damned if Brady didn't recall all too well when pride was the only thing he himself had had to call his own. He wouldn't have taken charity and he doubted this boy would feel any different.

  "What's goin' on, boss?" Joe asked as he walked back into the main room.

  Brady shot him a look. “I'm just about to find out."

  Shifting his gaze back to the boy, he asked, "So Davey, you going to tell me what's got you running all wild eyed and breathless?"

  “I'm tryin'."

  Joe snorted.

  Brady ignored him. “Take a breath and go then," he said, hiding the smile he knew the kid wouldn't appreciate.

  The boy swung his hair back from his eyes and fixed a stare on him. "A woman. She's comin' for you."

  Joe laughed shortly. And Brady knew why. Well, hell. All this fuss over a female looking for him? He let that grin loose now.

  Lifting one eyebrow, Brady took a swallow of his coffee, set the cup back down and said, "Kid, if a woman's comin’ for me, that's not bad news."

  "Can't have too many women," Joe mused.

  "You ain't seen this one yet," Davey insisted.

  Curiosity stirred inside Brady. What kind of woman was it, he wondered, that could get this kind of reaction out of the boy?

  "Pretty, is she?" he asked, more as a matter of course than real interest.

  After all, he wasn't exactly looking for a woman. If he wanted company, all he had to do was go upstairs. And any other kind of woman was out of the question. Like everywhere else, the upright, God-fearing females of Fortune usually avoided him like the plague — which was all right with him, since he was pretty sure he wouldn't know what to do with a "good" woman if he got his hands on one anyway.

  He liked his women willing and eager, and a Bible thumper just didn't spring to mind when he got that old, familiar itch.

  The kid eased up from his bent-over position and drew a long breath. "She's kinda tall and skinny," Davey said, then added, "but she's got nice eyes."

  "Who is she?" he asked, already halfway dismissing the mystery female because of that description. Tall and skinny didn't exactly churn up notions of lust in a man and "nice eyes" was just that. Nice.

  "Don't rightly know," Davey muttered. "Never seen her before." His features screwed up as if he were deep in thought. "But she knew me. Knew my name and talked to me like we was old friends."

  "Were," Brady said.

  "Were." The boy parroted the correction.

  "Interes
ting," Brady told him, "but not really worth a run like you just made. What else is there? What aren't you telling me?"

  "She says she's your —“ Davey swallowed hard, glanced around the empty room, and then shifted his gaze back to the man watching him. “— fiancée."

  "Fiancée?" Brady echoed, stunned. He straightened up, looked at the boy for a long minute, and then shaking his head, laughed loud enough to rattle the windows. “She says she's my fiancée?"

  Joe laughed, long and hard, and didn't shut up until Brady shot him a look that should have fried the soles of his feet.

  "Don't you have something to do?" he demanded.

  "Nope," Joe said and leaned both beefy forearms on the bartop, obviously getting comfortable.

  "Nosy as an old woman," Brady muttered, then turned back to the kid. "You're sure she told you she was my fiancée?"

  "Yes sir, she sure did."

  He ignored another rumble of laughter from Joe. "Well, hell, boy. She must be crazy."

  The kid looked thoughtful for a moment, as if considering that possibility. Then shrugging, he said, "She didn't look crazy at all. Wasn't rollin' her eyes and moanin' or nothing."

  "Oh, now that's a shame," Joe mumbled. "That would've been a sight indeed."

  Foaming at the mouth or not, the woman was clearly out of her mind, Brady thought. Yet for the first time since Davey had rushed into the room, he felt a flicker of foreboding.

  Fiancée?

  Outside, the distinct click of high heels against the boardwalk sounded out and Davey turned to watch the double door swing inward.

  Brady swiveled his head to stare at the woman silhouetted in the doorway. Just as Davey' d said, she was tall and skinny. But the kid hadn't mentioned her hair, long and curly and black as midnight. He also hadn't said anything about her skin, so pale it looked almost translucent. And those "nice eyes" of hers were also big and such a light brown as to be near golden. She had a stubborn tilt to her chin and she carried herself as straight as though she had a board strapped to her back. The ugly gray dress she wore did nothing for her figure, but somehow, she managed to look damn good despite the lack of frills.

  Slowly, Brady came to his feet, unconsciously standing in the presence of a lady. And she was a lady, of that he had no doubt. Hell, even Joe had stopped his snickering.

  Her gaze slid around the room, passed over Davey, and Joe, who stood up straight and ran a hand across his hair nervously. Then she turned to Brady. She smiled and he felt the hard punch of it slam into him.

  Damn. That smile of hers was as potent a weapon as a loaded Colt.

  "Oh my," Joe whispered, but Brady ignored him, focusing instead on the woman watching him.

  "Brady!" she called and stepped into the room. Hurrying to him, she went up on her toes, kissed his cheek, then eased back to give him a close look at that amazing smile. "You're looking well this morning."

  “Thanks," he said, his gaze moving over her features. Now that he had the opportunity for a longer look, he had to admit that she wasn't what a man would ordinarily think of as "pretty." But she was one that a man would definitely take a second look at.

  Well, most men, anyway.

  Not him.

  But there was something about her. Something… not exactly familiar, because he knew for damn sure he'd never seen her before. If nothing else, he would have remembered that smile. Still, there was a sensation of —

  He shook it off and moved back a step or two, just to keep a safe distance between them. There wouldn't be any more kisses, even though he could still feel the imprint of her lips on his cheek. She was clearly loco and Brady wasn't taking any chances with a woman who was a couple cars short of a train. Besides, she had to have a keeper somewhere and whoever it was, was probably running all over town looking for her.

  Hopefully, that keeper would find her real soon.

  "Are you feeling all right, ma'am?" he asked and pulled out a chair so she could sit down.

  “I'm perfectly fine, Brady," she said and gave him a look that clearly said she thought it was he who was a bit under the weather.

  Morning sun drifted in through the wide front window and lit the ends of her hair with a soft, golden light. Black eyebrows arched high over those big eyes of hers as she watched him study her. And that fabulous smile slowly faded to be replaced with a stern expression he hadn't seen since he was a boy and his teacher threw a book at his head for talking out of turn.

  As if from a distance, he heard the town stirring to life. Wagon wheels creaked as teamsters made their way down the muddy street. A dog barked, Adelaide Stevens shouted for her wayward husband, Tom, and the school bell pealed out over it all. And over in the corner, Joe coughed nervously.

  A perfectly ordinary day.

  But for the fact that a complete stranger had wandered into his life acting as though she had a claim on him. Which he'd best straighten out right now.

  "Ma'am —“

  She frowned at him. “Patience."

  All right.

  "Patience," he repeated and kept his voice slow and steady. Wouldn't do to upset a woman clearly on the fine edge of sanity. "Just what is it I can do for you?"

  "Do for me?" She drew her head back to stare at him. Slanting a quick look at the boy standing to one side of her, she shifted her gaze to Brady again and said, "I don't know what you mean. I hurried home because I knew you'd be worried about me and —“

  "Home?” he interrupted, latching on to that one word as if it were a log being carried down the rapids. Here, he thought. Here he could prove to her that she was mistaken. A woman like her wouldn't be living in a saloon, of all places.

  "Home," she said firmly. "Here."

  "Uh-oh," Joe whispered and Brady threw a quick frown at him.

  Joe shrugged helplessly, then leaned onto the bar again. Obviously, the man wasn't going anywhere. And neither, he thought, was Davey. The kid's eyebrows lifted into an "I told you so" arch, but Brady ignored it. Hell, he had bigger fish to fry. Immediately.

  Now, he was as willing as the next man to be kind to crazy folk. And Lord knew there was enough decency in him to never call a lady a liar — at least not to her face. But there was a limit to any man's patience and forbearance. And he'd reached his.

  "Now ma'am, if you'll just stop and think for a minute, you'll realize that this saloon isn't really your home."

  She laughed shortly and reached up to push a stray black curl out of her face. "Of course this saloon isn't a home," she said.

  Brady's tension eased off a bit, but he relaxed too soon.

  "It's your business." Shaking her head, she added, "But you must admit we do live here, so at least temporarily, it is home."

  "You live here, ma'am?" the bartender blurted, despite the glare Brady threw at him.

  "For pity's sake, Joe," she said. "You know that as well as I do." Then she gave him a decisive nod. "Naturally, we live in separate rooms. Then, after we're married, we'll be building a home out on the knoll above Hanging Woman Creek. Although," she added thoughtfully as she turned back to Brady, "I do think it might be easier if we simply lived here most of the week and kept the new house for private getaways."

  Something inside Brady stopped dead and he gave her a long look. A cold, hard knot of suspicion settled in the pit of his stomach. Now how in heaven had she known about his plans for the knoll outside town? He'd told no one. He'd shown no one the spot he'd found little more than a year ago on one of his long, solitary rides.

  It was perfect. He'd known it from the first minute he laid eyes on it Acres of scrub brush, juniper, and pinion trees spread out below the gentle rise. And from the top of that knoll, there was a view of the distant mountains that was enough to steal a wandering man's breath away. There were tinajas, natural stone tanks to catch rainwater, and a dry creekbed where he'd dig a well until he reached the water he just knew was down there.

  He'd never thought to have a home until he saw that spot. Then it was as if the land itself had called
to him. Sand and rocks and scrub brush wouldn't sound like much to most people, but the serenity of the place spoke to the heart of him.

  But those plans were just that — plans. They existed only in his mind and he damn well wanted to know how this woman had guessed them.

  "How do you know about the knoll?" he asked, his voice tight, low.

  Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

  "I'm just dandy," he snapped. "How'd you know?"

  "You took me there," she said.

  “That's a lie," Brady said in a near growl.

  She sucked in a gulp of air and reared back so far that if she'd been a rattlesnake, Brady would have pulled out a gun and shot her before she could strike.

  "I am not a liar, Brady Shaw."

  "You damn sure are if you're saying I took you to that knoll." he countered.

  “Now boss …" Joe's cautious voice spoke up.

  Before Brady could tell him to keep quiet though, Patience turned on the man. “Thank you, but I'm quite capable of speaking for myself."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She turned back to Brady. "As for you. Don't you swear at me,” she said and stabbed her index finger in the air just inches short of his chest.

  "Lady, I don't know who you are or what your game is, but you'd better start talkin'."

  "I am not playing any sort of game and you know very well who I am. I am your fiancée. I've come west to marry you and I truly resent this inquisition."

  "You're out of your mind, lady," Brady snapped, his patience long gone. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

  "Brady!" Twin spots of color flushed her cheeks as anger swept through her until she nearly shook with it.

  Well, fine. Anger he could deal with.

  "Why don't you tell me when was the last time I took you out to the knoll?” he asked, knowing full well she couldn't do it. This would put an end to her ploy, whatever it was.

  "Very well," she said, sparing another quick look at the boy and Joe as though she wished they would leave.

  But Brady didn't care who was here to listen. He wanted this settled now.