“I don't need anything," he told her and meant every word.
"You need me," she said, shaking her head. "Maybe even more than you know."
"All I need from you is to be left alone."
"I've hardly seen you in four days, Brady," she pointed out. "You've been alone. And if you don't mind my saying so, it doesn't look as though it suited you."
"As long as you're here. In the saloon. Hell, in Fortune," he said, throwing his hands wide, "I'm never alone."
She sucked in a gulp of breath, gave him a smile, and said, "Why, Brady, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
His chin hit his chest. Jesus.
What could he say to her? He'd tried reason and it hadn't worked. He'd tried getting mad and she ignored it. He'd tried finding the attic she belonged in and no one had claimed her.
He was running out of options. Gritting his teeth, Brady looked away from the shine in her eyes. Maybe this kitchen thing was a good idea, he thought. If nothing else, it'd keep her busy and away from him for a while.
"Fine. Have your kitchen," he said and hoped he didn't sound as defeated as he felt.
She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hanging on for all she was worth. He felt the impact of her body slam into his and instinctively his arms went around her and held her tightly to him.
He looked down into her eyes and easily read the sheer pleasure in those golden depths. Her joy was damn near contagious, he thought as a similar pleasure rippled through him despite the nagging thoughts plaguing his mind.
"You won't be sorry, Brady," she said. "You'll see. This will be wonderful."
He was already sorry, he thought, about a lot of things. But it was too late to change anything now. Besides, if he couldn't find where she belonged, maybe some cowboy would fall in love with her cooking and take her off Brady's hands.
It wasn't much hope.
But at least it was something.
CHAPTER NINE
“Don't see what else I can do, Brady," Sheriff Sam Hanks said and poured another cup of coffee from the battered tin pot. When he was finished he set the pot back down onto the top of the potbellied stove and walked to his desk. Dropping into his chair, he eased back, lifted his feet to the corner of his desk and crossed them at the ankle.
Cradling his cup in both palms, he shook his head and continued. "I've sent wires to everywhere I can think of. Notified other lawmen from here to St. Louis and even west to Frisco and Los Angeles. Nobody knows a damn thing about her."
“That's just perfect." Brady jumped to his feet so quickly, the chair he'd been sitting in fell over backward, clattering loudly on the wooden floor. He snatched it up, set it to rights again, and then stalked across the floor to the front window. Jamming his hands into his pants pockets, he stared unseeing at the town beyond the dirty glass.
He'd played his last card. Brady's back teeth ground together, and in his pockets, his hands curled into helpless fists. He wasn't a man to go running to the law for help. In fact, he usually did everything he could to avoid sheriffs or marshals. Back when he was a gunfighter, hiring his talents out to whoever offered the most money, he'd skirted the edges of the law — always aware that with just one slip he could find himself in prison. And now that he was a saloonkeeper, he still wasn't exactly a pillar of the community.
But desperate times called for desperate measures and Brady had taken the chance of coming to Sam Hanks for help in dealing with Patience.
Glancing over his shoulder at the man, Brady studied the sheriff's sharp green eyes that belied his indolent posture. Not much got past Sam, he told himself and thought idly that he and the sheriff were about the same age. Strange how two men could travel such wildly different paths in life.
Sam had been a Texas Ranger, a U.S. Marshal, and for some reason known only to him, had given that up and settled for being the sheriff in a one-horse town like Fortune. But then, Brady, too, had given up wandering to take root here. Maybe the two of them weren't so different after all.
"Don't know what else I can do,” Sam said and took a drink of coffee so bitter it made him shudder visibly as it slid down his throat.
Reluctantly, Brady smiled. "If your own coffee's that bad, why drink it?”
"It's here," he said with a shrug.
Good enough reason to drink coffee, Brady told himself. Not a good enough reason to put up with a woman who kept insisting you were in love with her. Snatching his hat off, Brady shoved one hand through his hair and muttered, "Maybe I should place an ad in the papers back East."
"About Patience?"
He nodded.
Sam shook his head. "You can try. But chances are, that woman's from right around here somewhere. How's a light-in-the-head female going to make it all the way to Fortune from back East without being noticed?" He paused, then answered his own question. "She wouldn't."
"So if she's from around here, why is no one claiming her?"
Sam shrugged. “No telling."
"And that leaves me where, exactly?"
Sam grinned. "Engaged?"
"Real funny."
"Hey, you could do worse."
“Yeah, I could shoot myself accidentally."
Laughing, Sam lowered his feet to the floor, set his coffee cup onto the desk, and stood up. He walked across the room to stand beside Brady and looked out the window at Fortune. "I don't know why you're so busy trying to get shut of her," Sam said. "I remember at the town dance a couple weeks ago, you and her looked real cozy."
Brady shot him a look. "You're as crazy as she is," he said. "She wasn't at the dance."
Sam frowned thoughtfully, stroked one finger along his jawline, and shook his head. "She had to be there," he said. "We were talking about it just the other day and she mentioned how I'd had to leave the dance early to lock Otis Cummings in one of the cells to sleep it off."
Brady sighed heavily.
"How else would she know that if she wasn't there?"
How else indeed, Brady wondered. He still had no answers to that question. Patience knew too damn much — and not just about him — but about the whole town. She spoke to people as if they were old friends and more often than not folks responded to her. He'd even noticed a few people giving him dirty looks lately — as if they were blaming him and not Patience for all of the confusion around here.
But hell, that shouldn't surprise him. Since Patience had hit town, nothing had been the same. Grumbling under his breath, he peered through the layer of dirt on the windowpane. He watched as Vonda Shales left her laundry and started off down the boardwalk in the direction of the saloon. Shaking his head, he knew without a doubt that Vonda and Treasure and probably Beatrice as well were going to be helping Patience set up her kitchen. As they had yesterday. And the day before.
Despite all of his efforts, Brady's life was sliding out of his control and Patience Goodfellow was at the helm, steering his ship right onto the rocks.
And there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do about it.
#
"I don't think this is such a good idea," Lily said and smoothed nervous hands down the front of the dress she'd borrowed from Patience. A simple green dress, it was nothing like the clothes she normally wore to work in the saloon. And silly as it sounded, she was a lot more nervous all covered up than she was when her breasts were on display.
Her blond hair was done up in a simple topknot and several loose tendrils had been left to dance along her cheeks and across the back of her neck. The collar of the dress seemed too tight, though, and Lily had a hard time swallowing the knot of fear lodged in her throat.
"Nonsense," Patience said briskly as she grabbed Lily's hand and nearly dragged her down the stairs after her. "You'll see. This is the perfect opportunity for you to make some new friends."
"Friends?" Lily muttered, trying to lift the hem of her skirt with one hand so she wouldn't tumble down the stairs only to land in a broken heap at the bottom.
"Y
es," Patience said, throwing a smile over her shoulder. “Friends. Like you and I are."
A warm spot settled in the center of Lily's chest and she clung to it. Despite all odds, she and Patience had become friendly over the last few days. And it had been so long since any "decent" woman had spoken to her in anything other than a sneer, Lily had cherished the time they'd spent together. But being friendly with Patience and making friends with the other town ladies might be two very different things.
She knew darn well what God-fearing Christian women thought of her and her kind. And though it shamed her something fierce, Lily really couldn't blame them. Before her husband had died, leaving her penniless and alone, Lily, too, had looked down her nose at the women who made their livings on their backs. So maybe she'd earned the snubs and censure she received now.
But at the bottom of the stairs, when Patience made a sharp right turn headed for the door leading to the kitchen, Lily dug in her heels. "I can't do it," she said, staring at that door as if it were the gateway to hell. "I can't go in there."
"Of course you can." Patience said softly and her voice echoed solemnly in the early morning quiet of the empty room.
“No, ma' am." Lily said, shaking her head. “It's no use anyway, Patience. They won't talk to the likes of me."
"Why wouldn't they?" she asked.
Lily choked on the short, nervous laugh that shot from her throat. "Because I'm a whore," she said, forcing the words out and forcing herself to hear them.
In the shadowy light, Patience's features almost seemed to glow as she smiled and came closer. Lily felt herself warming to that smile as she had right from the first. But her friend's warmth couldn't protect Lily from the icy reception she knew she'd receive the moment she walked through that door.
Patience took both of her hands in hers and held them gently. "Lily, you don't have to be afraid."
“I’m not afraid," she argued and tried to pin down just what exactly she was.
"Yes you are. But don't you see, •everyone bas something they're ashamed of. Large or small, it doesn't matter. What matters," Patience said softly, "is who we are. Inside. In our core."
Lily wanted to believe that, but —
"Give them a chance," Patience urged her, squeezing her hands carefully. "Give yourself a chance."
How many times had she wished for a chance to be something different? Lily wondered. How many times had she lain awake at night and prayed for the opportunity to change things? To be the woman she once was. To have the life she'd always wanted.
And now that perhaps that chance had arrived, would she really turn her back on it because she was too afraid to risk it?
No. Nodding to herself, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and tucked her protective shell around her as she had for years. She wouldn't be denied because she hadn't tried. And if the women treated her no differently than she expected, well, she would have lost nothing.
"All right," she said and was almost surprised to hear her voice work. "I'll give it a try."
"Good," Patience told her, still holding on to her hands as if afraid she might bolt. "You won't be sorry."
"We'll see," Lily murmured. But Patience didn't hear her. She was already pulling her toward the door.
#
"Grown-ups do the durndest things," Davey muttered and kicked at a rock in his path. His brass ring slid off his shoulder and he reached to shove it back into place.
He'd been all set to make him another dollar working for Miss Patience and now he had nothing to do at all. As soon as he'd run into Treasure Morgan on her way to the saloon, she’d shooed Davey off, saying they wouldn't be needing him today. Well, he figured he should wait and ask Patience, but Treasure had nearly pushed him out of her way, telling him to go on and play.
Play.
He stopped dead on the dirt track and swiped one hand beneath his nose. Hell, he wasn't a child. He didn't play.
But he wasn't working either, he reminded himself. At least not today. So what was a body supposed to do with himself when he had a whole day stretching out in front of him?
An idea wiggled to life in his mind. Slowly, Davey smiled and pulled that brass hoop down off his shoulder. Holding it in both hands, he hardly noticed the now familiar warmth of the metal anymore. But he braced himself for a blast of heat as he said, "If you was a fishing pole and line, I could maybe catch some nice fish for supper."
Instantly, the hoop hummed and shifted in his hands. The metal warmed considerably and as Davey hung on, it kind of melted out of its round shape and took on length and size. He held his breath as the magic unfolded. The brass straightened out, thicker at one end than the other. Heat sizzled his palms but didn't burn him as his pole took shape. And in seconds, it was over and the brass was silent, its heat cooling into a comforting warmth.
The fishing rod was twice as tall as he was and he stared as, from the tip of the pole, a long, slender thread of brass unwound to become a line, complete with a hook and a squirmy-looking brass worm.
"My, oh my," he whispered, never failing to be amazed at his good fortune. This magic ring just kept on getting better. Forgetting all about work and the dollar he wouldn't make today, Davey grinned. Then, clutching his new pole, he stepped off the road and cut across the open land between the back end of Fortune and the small, fish-stocked lake just a mile or two north.
#
Patience threw the door wide and stepped into the kitchen, pulling Lily in after her. She felt the other woman's reluctance and told herself there was no need for it. Treasure Morgan was a kindhearted woman, and as for the others, she was fairly certain that if Treasure accepted Lily, the others would as well.
"Morning, Patience," the short, round storekeeper called out when she heard the door open. As she turned around, she said, “Think I've got all the supplies you asked for and the others'll be here any minute."
“That's wonderful," Patience said and watched the woman's expression harden as her gaze locked on Lilly. Pestilence! This might not be as easy as she'd hoped it would be. Apparently, the lines between "good" women and the "not so good" were drawn deep. A shame, really, she told herself. Because when all was said and done, shouldn't women really band together? Help each other?
After all, she thought, in the war between men and women, aren't we all on the same side?
Beside her, Lilly straightened up defensively, as if preparing for battle. But there wouldn't be a fight. Patience would see to it.
"Treasure," she said abruptly, shattering the strained silence hanging in the air, "this is my friend Lily. Lily, Treasure Morgan."
"We've met," the storekeeper said and folded her arms across her more than abundant bosom.
"I told you this wasn't a good idea," Lily muttered and tried to draw free of Patience's grip, obviously bent on escape.
She didn't succeed.
Patience bit back an oath. The clash when two hard heads collided was nearly deafening. But she'd faced greater challenges, hadn't she? As that thought flitted through her mind, though, she frowned slightly and tried to remember just when that might have been. But an instant later, she gave it up and returned her focus to the matter at hand.
Looking meaningfully from one to the other of the women, Patience ignored the obvious drop in the room's temperature and said, "I just know the two of you are going to be great friends."
Treasure sniffed and Lily muttered something unintelligible.
Patience paid no attention to either of them. "You'd be surprised just how much you two have in common."
Treasure's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened until they looked as though they were about to pop out of her head. Lily's only reaction was a muffled, choked-off laugh.
But Patience wasn't finished. They were going to settle this right here and now. “Treasure," she asked pointedly, "did you know that Lily's husband was killed at Antietam?”
The storekeeper flinched slightly and her eyes softened just a bit as Patience pressed her advanta
ge. Turning to the blond woman beside her, she said simply, “Treasure's husband died in that same battle."
Lily blinked and took a short breath.
"How did you know about my Henry?” Treasure asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
"You told me yourself," Patience said gently, looking back at her.
She shook her head. "When?"
Sunshine drifted through the brand-new windowpanes and lay in an oblong pattern across the floor. The sounds of life from outside seemed very far away as the three women faced each other.
"Does it really matter, Treasure?" Patience asked, her voice soothing, tender.
The storekeeper's eyes filled with tears she battled to keep from shedding. Her jaw worked furiously and she blinked against the dampness blurring her vision. Finally, she reached up and rubbed one hand across her eyes before looking at Lily again. And this time, there was a softness in her gaze that had been sorely lacking before.
"No," she said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. "I guess it don't matter at all."
Some of the starch had left Lily's posture and she watched the storekeeper through wary, yet almost hopeful eyes.
"My Henry," Treasure was saying, "fought with General McClellan and the Army of the Potomac."
Lily's chin lifted a notch and she folded her hands at her waist so tightly, her knuckles whitened. "My Tom was with General Longstreet."
Patience watched the byplay, hoping she had been right. Hoping that these two lost souls would recognize each other and take comfort in the giving and sharing of memories.
"A Confederate, eh?" Treasure asked.
"Yes," Lily said tiredly. "But is that really important anymore?"
The older woman thought about it for a long minute before saying, "No. No, it surely ain't. That damn war took too many from both sides."
"Amen," Lily said.
Treasure took a tentative step closer. "You couldn't have been much more than a child when your man died."
Lily smiled. "It seems like a lifetime ago."
"Don't it, though?” Treasure murmured. "I swear, sometimes I don't even remember being a wife."
When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance Page 10