When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance

by Maureen Child

  Patience wiped her hands on her apron and swallowed back the small knot of fear lodged in her throat. In the last few days, she'd sensed a difference in those around her. At first, she'd told herself that it was merely a game people were playing with her. Pretending they didn't know her. But it had gone on too long. It involved people not only in town, but from the outlying ranches. And it didn't matter that she knew so much about them… they didn't seem to know her.

  And what did that mean?

  Through the fabric of her apron, she squeezed her hands together tightly and held on as if that grip alone meant everything. The voices behind her spun into a swirling rush of noise that became nothing more than a buzz in her ears. Strange that this was all hitting her now.

  But when Miriam had arrived this morning, staring at her as though she were a complete stranger, Patience had felt the weight of the last few days crash down on her at once.

  Now she wasn't at all sure what to do.

  The adjoining door to the saloon swung open and Lily stepped back into the room, a wide smile curving her lips and the flush of success on her cheeks. “They ate up every scrap of food we offered and they want more."

  “That's a good sign," Treasure told her and rubbed her palms together. "Let's load that tray up again, Lily. Only this time," she said with a conspiratorial grin, "they pay for what they eat."

  Patience hardly listened. Strange, she'd been so excited about opening this kitchen, and now that she knew it would be a success, it didn't seem important anymore. She had too much on her mind to care about baking. She needed —

  The sound of Brady's voice reached her through the open door and instantly she knew that what she needed was him. The man she loved. The man who loved her. The man she'd pledged her life to. He would help. He would know what to do about the odd sensations she was experiencing.

  Smiling to herself, she headed across the kitchen and stepped into the saloon. She followed the sound of his voice, and when her gaze landed on him, she saw that he was looming over Sheriff Hanks, a look of pure fury on his features.

  And it was only then she heard exactly what he was saying. Or rather, shouting.

  "Did you hear that, all of you?" he called out, waving one hand at the men scattered around the room, sitting at the dozen or so card tables. "I said, I'm not engaged to Patience. I'm not in love with her. And I'll be damned if I'm turning my saloon over to a crazy woman!"

  Every single word hit her body like an icy bullet. She felt their impact. She felt the slow shriveling of her soul. She felt her blood slow and cool. And finally, she actually felt her heart break.

  The echo of his words still hung in the air when she noticed that the silence had become thicker. But her ears were ringing and a voice in her head was wailing, so she wasn't at all sure why.

  The rush of temper left him as quickly as it had come on him and Brady greedily sucked in a gulp of air. He faced down the men in the room, ready to glare them all into submission. But as he looked at them, he saw that they weren't watching him.

  Someone in the room cleared his throat.

  A chair's legs scraped against the floor.

  And slowly, Brady swiveled, following the direction of the other men's stares. He knew what he'd find when he turned. But it didn't help.

  Patience stood statue-still in the open doorway to the kitchen. Behind her, he caught a glimpse of a few other women gathered close enough that they, too, had probably heard him.

  But it was the hurt in Patience's gaze that jabbed at him. Those golden eyes of hers shimmered with a silvery sheen of tears that he hoped to hell she wouldn't shed. Because seeing her cry would surely finish him off.

  "Patience," he said and his voice sounded as rusty as an old gate, long unused.

  She only looked at him for another long minute. Then quietly, calmly, she turned around and walked away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  For a couple of long heartbeats, nobody moved.

  Damn it.

  Regret choked him and he wished heartily he could have bitten off his tongue. But it was too late now to take the words back. They hung in the still air, as clearly defined as the scent of Patience's pastries. He swallowed hard, but it didn't help ease the knot of discomfort lodged in his throat.

  "Well, now you've gone and done it," Sam muttered, breaking the spell that had fallen over the saloon.

  "Shut up," Brady snapped without looking at him.

  He didn't need to be told what he'd done. One glance at Patience's hurt expression had accomplished that. He snatched up his hat from the end of the bar and jammed it down onto his head. Feeling lower than he ever had before, he crossed the room in a few longlegged strides. Only one thing to do. Find her. Talk to her. He slapped one hand down on the bartop as he rounded the corner but when he would have walked through the open doorway, he was forced to stop.

  Every female who'd been in the kitchen was now blocking his way, standing between him and Patience. And right up front was Treasure Morgan.

  "Get out of the way, Treasure," he said tightly.

  "You oughta be ashamed of yourself, Brady Shaw," the storekeeper said, giving him a look that should have killed him and planted him six feet under.

  A pang of guilt jabbed at him. But an instant later, he asked himself why he should be feeling guilty. Sure, he wished Patience hadn't heard him yelling like that. But damn it, he'd been mighty fair about this for nearly a week.

  "You had no call to be talking to Patience that way,” Lily chimed in from beside the big woman, and Brady shot her a look, noting for the first time that she had a real mean glare when she wanted to.

  An itch settled between his shoulder blades. The same kind of feeling he used to get when his body was warning him that somebody, somewhere, had a gun aimed his way. But that was ridiculous. These women weren't armed. And, he thought, letting his gaze slide from one furious expression to another, that was probably a good thing.

  "I wasn't talking to Patience," he reminded them all. “I was talking to Sam."

  As one, they all turned their heads to stare at the sheriff. Disgusted, Brady saw the otherwise fearless lawman actually cringe. But an instant later, the women forgot about Sam and focused on Brady again.

  And he had to fight the urge to do a little cringing himself.

  "You should apologize," Lily told him.

  Well now, that was just what he'd planned to do. But doing it on his own and being told to do it were two different things. Set a man's back up to be told how and when to do anything.

  "Apologize?" Brady echoed.

  "Crawl," Treasure suggested.

  He just stared at her.

  "Never did hurt a man to do a little crawlin'," the storekeeper went on. "And there's nothin' a woman likes more than to see her man willin’ to do a little crawlin’ to win her forgiveness."

  Crawl?

  Even the thought made his spine go ramrod straight. He'd never begged anybody for anything. And he damn sure wasn't going to start now. He'd try to ease her hurt feelings, but he'd be standing on his own two feet when he did it. But before he could say so, an unidentified man spoke up in his defense.

  "Now, you women back off of Brady there," someone called out from the back of the room.

  "You hush, Rudy Mendez," Treasure snapped, shooting the cowboy a narrow-eyed glare that would have given a paid gunman second thoughts.

  Brady couldn't blame the man for doing what he was told.

  The storekeeper was a formidable woman at any time, he thought, but at the moment, she looked downright menacing. Her jaw was set and those eyes of hers were shooting fire. Brady took a small step forward and Treasure moved to block him. She crossed beefy arms over her mammoth bosom and planted her feet far apart in a battle stance.

  Brady scraped one hand across his face and briefly considered his chances of getting past her.

  Then she tilted her chin toward him defiantly and silently dared him to try. Wasn't hardly fair, since they both knew he wouldn't ra
ise a hand to a woman.

  And short of throwing her to the ground and walking across her prone body, he figured there was no way he was getting through that kitchen. Why was it that females were suddenly becoming the enemy? He'd always gotten along just fine with women. He generally liked all of them. And his charm had always stood him in good stead.

  Until today.

  Sucking in a gulp of pastry-scented air, which only served to remind him of Patience, Brady gritted his teeth and asked, "Are you going to move or not?"

  "Not until I know that you're going to make things right with Patience," Treasure snapped.

  "She was crying," Lily told him.

  Ah, hell.

  Guilt stabbed at him again and he resented it like the very devil. Hadn't he done everything he could for her in the last week? Hadn't he gone out of his way to be understanding? He'd given her a place to stay. He'd bought her new clothes. He'd lent her the money for the damn kitchen that was going to put him out of business.

  Not many other men would have been so generous, he assured himself silently. So kind. So… stupid.

  That one word settled in his brain and he had to own up to it. This was his own fault. He should have told her the truth a week ago. Should have made her listen. Shouldn't have allowed those delusions of hers to take root.

  Shouldn't have hurt her.

  His gaze drifted across the faces of the women watching him with murder in their eyes and he didn't blame them one bit. Hurting Patience had been like taking a stick to a child. There was just no excuse for it.

  He had to find Patience and he for damn sure wasn't going to be able to get past these women. So he'd just have to go around them. Doing a quick about-face, he marched across the barroom in impatient strides, headed for the batwing doors and the main street beyond.

  As he went, one corner of his mind noted that the folks in the saloon were still tearing into each other. "It's lettin' females into a saloon that's caused this mess," some man called out.

  "Letting?" one of the women challenged. "Buster Franks, the day hasn't come when the likes of you lets a woman do anything!"

  "Y'know you women don't belong in here," another foolish man called out.

  "And are you thinking to try to make me leave?" Treasure countered.

  Brady kept walking, quickening his steps, eager to leave what looked like a brewing war behind him.

  "Gettin' so's a man can't have a drink in peace anymore."

  "You want peace, you old goat?" Miriam Vines shouted.

  "Who you callin' an old goat?"

  Brady's outstretched hands hit the swinging doors so hard, they smacked against the wall and rattled on their hinges. He kept walking and paused at the edge of the boardwalk under the overhang. Drawing a deep cooling breath, he let his gaze sweep across Main Street.

  A dozen or so horses were tethered to the hitching rails dotting the road. A dray wagon rolled along the street, kicking up dust as its ancient wheels groaned like an old man getting out of his bath. The barber's old yellow dog lay stretched out in the sunlight, heedless of the traffic that moved around him. A handful of shoppers strolled along the boardwalks and a cold wind shot in off the desert, wrapped itself around Brady briefly, then went on its way.

  He shivered slightly, narrowed his gaze, and studied it all again. She had to be here. Where else would she go? Out into the desert? No. Patience wouldn't do anything that stupid. She was here. Somewhere.

  Brady hunched his shoulders deeper into the folds of his jacket and shoved both hands into his pants pocket. Leaning against the handy overhang post, he taunted himself with the memory of Patience's face.

  Why the hell had she chosen that moment to step into the saloon? Why had he shot his mouth off when he'd managed to keep his temper for nearly a week? And why did it matter so damn much that he'd hurt her?

  A curl of something he didn't want to acknowledge as remorse unwound inside him. It had been a lot of years since he'd felt sorry about anything he'd done. Well, not counting the night he'd won the saloon. But that was something he tried not to think about anymore.

  Still, it figured that Patience would awaken in him the ability to feel bad about speaking his mind. He'd been alone so long, he'd pretty much done and said whatever he wanted to without having to worry about stepping on tender feelings. And Patience was tender. And sweet. And innocent. It wasn't her fault she was nuts.

  That thought propelled him off the edge of the boardwalk. He had to find her. And if that meant turning everything in this town upside down, then that's what he'd do.

  But he hadn't taken more than a step or two before that old yellow dog lifted its head, sniffed the air, and slowly pushed itself to its feet. Brady watched as the hound glanced first one way then the other before taking off in a slow trot around the edge of the barbershop.

  Instantly, images of the last week raced through his mind. How many times had he seen that old dog rising from its continuous nap to greet Patience when she walked down the street? Until she'd arrived in Fortune, old Lightning had been known to sleep through fire, flood, and famine.

  Most folks thought it cute that the old dog was apparently sweet on Patience.

  Right now, Brady was just grateful for it.

  Playing his hunch, he followed after the dog, stepping into the shadowy alleyway and trailing behind it at a safe distance. Sure enough, as the dog left the alley, Brady heard a familiar female voice whispering, "Oh, you sweet thing."

  The dog's whine of pleasure drowned out the rest of Patience's words, but not the aching break of her voice. Disgusted with himself for making her cry, Brady plunged ahead, and when he stepped out of the alley, he found Patience on her knees in the dirt, her hands buried in Lightning's thick coat.

  "Patience," he said softly.

  She went absolutely still.

  "I want to talk to you about —“

  Her head snapped up and teary eyes flashed damp temper at him. "I think you've said enough, don't you, Brady?"

  That now familiar stab of guilt jabbed at him and he took the pain as only what he deserved. "You weren't meant to hear that."

  "Oh," she said, releasing the dog to stand up. One foot caught in the hem of her dress and she stumbled. He reached out to steady her, but she pulled back as if his hand were diseased.

  Amazing how much that hurt.

  "So then," she went on, "you meant what you said, you just didn't want me to hear you."

  "Yes. No." He shook his head, stared into those golden eyes of hers, and fought to regain his resolve. Yes, he wanted to apologize for hurting her. But could he really take back what he'd said? Wasn't it better if they had this out now? If she understood that her delusions were just that? How much crueler would it be to play along with her only to eventually let her down?

  He reached out one hand to her again, and when she took a step back from him, he let his hand fall, fisted, to his side. "I never wanted to hurt you, Patience."

  "But you don't love me."

  “I don't know you."

  She actually winced and the pain written on her features rippled through him too. “Then why?" she demanded. "Why do I know you?"

  "I don't have an explanation for that."

  "I do," she said and he was relieved to see the sheen of unshed tears had disappeared from her eyes. Temper was still there, of course, but anger was so much easier for a man to handle than tears. “The explanation is that you do know me, Brady. As well as you know yourself."

  "Patience," he began, but she cut him off neatly.

  “There's something between us, Brady Shaw. It's good and strong and wonderful."

  He shifted uneasily.

  "But you don't want it," she continued and her voice broke again, ripping out the last corner of his heart. "You don't want me."

  His hard, taut body thought otherwise, but he was in no position to argue the point. "Patience, I don't want a wife. Any wife. Not just you."

  "You're making a mistake,” she told him.


  "Won't be the first." he admitted.

  "No," she agreed, “it won't be."

  He shifted again, uneasiness crawling along his spine.

  Patience watched him and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong. She'd loved him for so many years, it was hard to see him look at her as though she were a stranger. And yet… her mind raced, one thought after another presenting itself and then scurrying on.

  Only an hour ago, she'd wanted to run into his arms, to have him tell her that everything would be all right. Now, she felt as though even their love was drifting away from her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Unless…

  She knew Brady better than anyone else did. Perhaps even better than he knew himself. He could be pushed and argued with only so far and then he would draw a line in the figurative sand and stand his ground. And no amount of pushing or cajoling would get him to back down.

  In memory, she heard him telling a roomful of people that he didn't love her and had no intention of ever loving her. And though that pain simmered in her breast, the rational side of her brain asserted itself, demanding she pay attention.

  This wasn't about his lack of love for her. This was about his own need to be in charge. To draw that line in the sand. Brady Shaw wasn't a man to be told anything. She had to make him realize that loving her was something he wanted to do. She had to force him to remember exactly why they'd become engaged in the first place. The best thing she could do for both of them now, she told herself, was to pull back. To ease away from him. To give him the chance to see what his life would be like without her in it.

  Then, he would know. Then, he would realize that what was between them was meant to be. Though she ached inside at the thought of being separated from him, this was the only way to be sure that they would never be apart again.

  Decision made, she announced, "I'm leaving you, Brady."

  His mouth dropped open. A second later, though, he regained his senses and asked, "You're leaving me?"

  "Yes." In fact, the more she thought of it, the better the idea sounded. This could be just what they needed. Time. Time for him to see that what they shared, what they were meant to share, was worth everything.