When the Halo Falls, a heavenly romance Read online

  He blinked at it in stunned surprise, but then slowly a smile built on his face and he rubbed the surface of the thing lovingly. "Well now," he murmured, "if that don't beat all."

  #

  It was a hard thing when a man was run out of his own place of business, Brady thought, stepping through the double doors of the saloon. A ripple of laughter followed him outside and he walked to the edge of the boardwalk in an effort to distance himself from it.

  Hell, wasn't it enough that he'd been given a bill for all the new clothes Patience had bought at the Mercantile? Wasn't it enough that the woman had planted herself upstairs in the room right beside his? Or that she'd already started in on Joe, trying to help him rearrange the stockroom?

  Nope, he thought grimly, leaning forward and curling his fingers around the porch rail. Apparently it wasn't near enough for the crazy woman who was pushing him into insanity himself. No, she'd had to go and tell a few of his customers that she was Brady's fiancée. And now those men were having the time of their lives, laughing at him.

  He shot a look heavenward and scowled, just in case there was Somebody up there. "Whatever you're doing, cut it the hell out," he muttered. “Find somebody else to play your games on. I'm not interested."

  Naturally there was no answer and he hadn't really expected one anyway. He'd seen little enough in his life that would make him think there was some benevolent God up there worried about what everybody down here was up to. And if there was, he figured that God wouldn't have much to say to an ex-gunfighting gambler.

  Which was fine by him, since he preferred running his own life anyway. Besides, from what he'd seen God hadn't done any of his believers a helluva lot of favors.

  Frustration still bubbling inside him, Brady squinted against the bright sunlight and caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye. Straightening up, he watched as Davey raced up, slapping at a hoop with a long stick. A reluctant smile curved his mouth as he realized this was the first time he could remember seeing the kid actually play. Usually, he was too busy running from one of his jobs to the next to take the time to just be a boy.

  Davey grabbed his hoop, swallowed his own smile, and jumped up onto the boardwalk to stand in front of Brady. He bounced that hoop against his shin and shuffled his feet, scraping the worn soles of his boots across the uneven planks. Then he ducked his head briefly, looked up, and swung that fall of brown hair out of his eyes before saying, "I'm sure sorry, Brady." Clutching the hoop as though it were the deed to a gold mine, he said, "Nobody knows nothing about her."

  "Anything," Brady corrected absently.

  "Anything." Davey shrugged bony shoulders. "It's like she just fell outa the sky or something, 'cause nobody ever heard tell of her."

  Brady frowned to himself. "The only thing that falls out of the sky is a bird, and she's no bird."

  The boy chuckled, then stopped again quickly. "No sir, she ain't."

  "'Isn't.”

  “Isn't," Davey said, nodding, then added, "But she don't belong here either."

  "Doesn't."

  The boy sighed. "Doesn't."

  Brady lifted his gaze to look beyond the boy, toward the edge of town. If she wasn't from here — and that piece of news hadn't surprised him any — then she had to be from Santa Fe. And if she was, he'd find where she belonged.

  Today.

  A shuffle of feet drew his attention back to the kid as he turned to leave, narrow shoulders slumped, chin resting on his chest.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?" Brady asked and the boy turned around to look at him.

  "Huh?”

  "Your dollar?" he prompted, when the boy just stared at him.

  "You don't have to pay me, Brady. I didn't find out anything."

  Pride, he thought. A powerful thing in one so small. Digging one hand into his pocket, he pulled out a single coin and flipped it in the air toward the kid. Davey snatched it and held it clutched in one grubby fist.

  "I didn't pay you to find something, Davey," he said softly. "I paid you to ask questions."

  Looking from Brady to his closed fist and back again, the boy smiled before pocketing that coin. "Thanks, Brady."

  He nodded, then jerked his head in the direction of the saloon doors. "Joe's setting out the bar lunch," he said. "Why don't you go in and help him? Then get yourself something to eat."

  "Yes, sir," he said and headed right off.

  The doors swung crazily for a moment, marking the boy's passage, and when they stilled, Brady told himself that at least the kid would eat one good meal today. And he wished all of his problems were so easily solved.

  #

  “I'm afraid I still don't understand," Patience said as she watched Lily tuck a lovely red feather into her upswept blond hair.

  The woman glanced at her in the mirror and laughed. "What's not to understand, honey? I work here. I support myself. And I don't need a man to help me do it." She paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Well, all right, maybe I do need a man to help me do it."

  Patience felt a hot flush of embarrassment race through her and flood her cheeks. Since finishing her shopping, she'd been at loose ends. She'd already helped Joe rearrange the stockroom and met a few of Brady's friends. And, she thought, remembering the stunned expressions on the faces of the men she'd spoken to in the bar, she had to wonder when people were going to stop pretending not to know her.

  It was all very peculiar.

  But then she dismissed the thought and returned her mind to the moment at hand. Until it was time to leave for Santa Fe with Brady — a drive she was looking forward to immensely — she’d decided to spend a little time with the women who worked at the saloon.

  But Lily didn't seem to be open to conversation any more than Fern and Addey had. Though at least Lily was a bit more willing to listen than the other women. They'd run off the moment she'd said hello — why, they'd almost behaved as if they were afraid of her.

  Which was certainly ridiculous. Perched on the edge of the lone chair in Lily's room, Patience watched the woman opposite her.

  Cupping her breasts with both hands, Lily pushed them higher into the black corset she wore atop a full red satin skirt.

  Self-consciously, Patience glanced down at her own less-than-abundant bosom and sighed.

  When the other woman was satisfied with the amount of flesh displayed, she turned her back on the mirror and looked Patience dead in the eye. "You're not here to try to reform me, are you?" she asked warily. "I mean, you're not going to start spouting Scripture at me?"

  "Would you like me to?" Patience asked, already mentally searching for appropriate Bible passages. Though she hadn't really planned on this, she was sure, if given a moment or two, she'd be able to come up with something.

  But Lily saved her. "No, ma'am," she said quickly, giving her a tight smile. "I've heard 'em all, anyway."

  "Yes, I suppose you have," Patience said agreeably. "And besides, if you were really interested, you could read them for yourself tonight."

  Lily shot her a guarded look. “What do you mean?”

  Patience smiled. "Lily, it's no disgrace to read the Bible every night."

  "I don't —“ The blonde straightened up, shot an almost guilty glance around the otherwise empty room, and then stared at Patience as though she had just sprouted another head. "How did you know about that?"

  She opened her mouth to answer that question, then snapped it shut again. For heaven's sake. How did she know? She wasn't sure. But the knowledge was there. In her mind. She just . . . knew.

  How very odd.

  "Is somebody talking about me?” Lily asked, her voice quiet. "I mean, if word gets out that I —“

  “That you're more than you pretend to be?” Patience finished for her.

  Now it was Lily's turn for flushed cheeks. Uneasiness was written all over her face and she twisted her hands together at her waist as if looking for something to hold on to. Then defensively, she said, "It doesn't mean anything. The reading
, I mean. It's just a comfort sometimes, is all."

  "Of course it is. Why do you think so many people read the Bible?"

  "For ammunition."

  "I beg your pardon."

  Lily pulled herself together, drew a long, deep breath, and said, "Folks don't read the Bible to be better people. They just read it to be better than everybody else."

  “That's a hard thing to say."

  "But true," Lily said, though she softened her words with a half-smile. "I've been preached at, around, and over for years."

  Compassion stirred within Patience's breast and she stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the other woman. She laid one hand on her forearm and said softly, “If people knew why you'd chosen this life, perhaps —“

  Openmouthed, Lily stared at her. "What do you know about —“

  "Oh Lily, don't you remember that night just a few weeks ago?"

  For a long moment, she said nothing, then realization dawned. "No," the other woman said, shaking her head and pressing her lips together tightly.

  "Yes you do," Patience said, and let her memory drift back to that night when she'd found Lily here, in her room, sobbing as though her heart might break. "You were reading those old letters. And saying how you wished things had been different.”

  Lily shook her head again, as if silently denying Patience's words.

  But Patience wasn’t a woman to be stopped by denial. "I put my arms around you and held you while you cried. You told me all about how your husband died in the war and how you were left alone. To fend for yourself in a world that's seldom kind to women alone."

  "I didn't —“ Lily whispered shakily, but her gaze was soft in memory and her brow furrowed.

  "You did," Patience told her softly. "And after a while, you felt better. Remember?"

  Lily stared at her for a long moment. She licked dry lips and tried to still the wild racing of her heart. She had felt better after her wild cry that night when she'd mourned all that was lost to her. Her gaze shifted to Patience's hand on her arm and she took comfort in the warmth of the woman's touch. Lifting her gaze again to look into the golden eyes still watching her, Lily asked breathlessly, "Who are you?”

  "Your friend," Patience said and gave her a smile bright enough to chase away any shadows still remaining in Lily's soul.

  And for one brief, wonderful moment, Lily believed her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The wagon hit a rut in the road and Patience lurched forward on the seat, swaying dangerously near the edge. But Brady's reactions were quick. He caught her forearm in a firm grip and yanked her back squarely onto the seat.

  “Hang on to something, will you?" he demanded and released her as quickly as he'd reached for her.

  But it didn't seem to matter. Patience still felt the warm imprint of his fingers on her arm as clearly as if he'd branded her with his touch. She smiled to herself and ignored his snappish tone. After all, he'd probably only been afraid she was going to be hurt. She slanted a glance at him and found herself silently admiring his strong profile. His nose was straight and narrow, his jaw square with a nononsense chin. His mouth, even set as it was now, in a grim slash across his face, was a pleasant one and his pale blue eyes looked as clear and cold as the sky above them. His dark brown hair was a little too long, curling slightly over his shirt collar, and Patience made a mental note to speak to him about getting a haircut before the wedding. He wore a black hat, pulled down low over his eyes, a black coat and trousers, and a forest-green vest. A handsome man, she thought and felt the oddest sensation take up residence in her abdomen — and lower.

  Slapping one hand against her stomach, Patience frowned and tried to calm the nest of butterflies whirling around within her.

  "Something wrong?" Brady asked, shooting her a quick look before turning his gaze back to the long stretch of road in front of them.

  "I don't know,” she said honestly. “It's just —“

  He turned a wary eye on her.

  Instantly, she read the unspoken question in his eyes and stiffened her spine in response. "I am not going to fall into a fit, Brady Shaw, and I wish you would stop this ridiculous pretense of yours."

  His jaw worked for a long moment as if he were chewing on the words he refused to let escape. Finally, though, he surrendered and blurted. "I’m not pretending anything, Patience."

  She squirmed around on the seat until she was facing him. Clapping one hand to the top of her head to hold one of her brand-new hats in place — as she didn't want to see the lovely yellow creation bouncing off across the desert — she looked right at him. "You most certainly are. You're behaving as though you'd never seen me before and I must say I find it terribly rude."

  "Well, pardon the hell outa me," he muttered, then snapped his mouth shut.

  "I wish you wouldn't swear," she said.

  "Lady, in this situation, that's about all I've got left."

  Another rut shook the wagon and this time Patience fell against Brady. Her arms went around his neck and she held on for dear life until the wagon straightened itself and continued on. But even then, she was reluctant to let go of him.

  Just being this close to him filled her with more wonderful sensations than she could possibly describe. Her breasts pressed against his upper arm, heat shimmered through her body and lit up her insides like a shower of falling stars in a night sky. His jaw was no more than a breath away and Patience licked suddenly dry lips as she inhaled the sweet scent of bay rum clinging to him.

  It had always been like this for her. She'd loved him so long, she thought, it was as if he were a part of her.

  "You can let go now, Patience," Brady said softly, never taking his gaze from the road.

  "I know," she said, but kept holding on to him.

  He inhaled sharply and blew the air out in a rush impatiently. "Patience," he asked, "why in the hell are you so all-fired set on marrying me?"

  She drew her head back and looked at him. Her gaze moved over his so familiar, so dear features until he finally shifted his gaze to meet hers. Only then did she smile and say, "Because I love you, Brady.”

  A flicker of some emotion danced in his eyes and was gone again in less than a heartbeat. She couldn't identify it. Wasn't even sure she'd seen it. But at least she knew her words had had some effect on him — despite his efforts to deny it.

  The word "love" rattled around inside his brain for a long minute before Brady deliberately chased it out. She didn't love him. Hell, she didn't even know him. And if she didn't take her arms from around his neck soon, he just might be tempted to forget that she was nuts.

  Damned if he couldn't feel her warmth skittering through him. Her small breasts pressed to him, her thigh alongside his, he felt the brush of her breath soft against his cheek and he closed his eyes briefly in a futile attempt to ignore what she was doing to his body.

  "Sit back, Patience," he said tightly, squeezing the words past the knot in his throat. Maybe traveling to Santa Fe with her hadn't been such a good idea after all, he thought. They still had a few more miles to go and then there was the ride home to survive.

  But, he thought, perking right up, with any luck at all, he'd be alone for the return trip. And Patience would be tucked up in whatever attic was awaiting her.

  And as that thought presented itself, he winced. He'd known her less than a day, but there was something about her that made him regret the fact that she would no doubt be locked away somewhere. It wasn't as if she were dangerous to anyone but him. He shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench seat and wished he had enough room to ease away from her a bit. But even if he had, it wouldn't do him a damn sight of good with her clinging to him like fresh wallpaper.

  Gritting his teeth, he took one hand from the reins, reached up and disengaged her arms from around his neck. Sparing her a quick look, he said, "Just sit back and hold on, all right?"

  She smiled and he sucked in a gulp of air. Damn, that smile of hers was enough to light up every dark corner in
a man's soul. But as soon as that thought flashed through his mind, he dismissed it. His shadowy corners had been dark too long.

  "What is it you're afraid of, Brady?" she asked, her face entirely too close to his.

  “I'm not afraid, Patience," he said. "Just not interested."

  And even he didn't believe that whopper.

  Sure enough, she laughed and the sound of it washed over him, through him, and Brady knew he was headed for some serious trouble real soon.

  "Oh Brady," she said and leaned in close, planting a quick, fever-inducing kiss on his cheek. "We're going to have a grand life together."

  He wouldn't get mad, he told himself firmly. He wasn't going to let this little woman fire up a temper he'd been able to control for more than ten years. But he also wasn't going to let her keep talking foolishness.

  "The only thing we're going to have together is a ride to Santa Fe," he said and snapped the reins in the air over the horse's back. Why wouldn't the damn animal run? Hell, an empty wagon couldn't weigh that much, could it?

  "And home again," she said, easing back onto her corner of the bench, thank heaven. Then she smoothed her palms across her skirt and fiddled with the hem until even the toes of her shoes were decently covered.

  Brady rolled his eyes.

  "And then we'll have to start planning the wedding," she was saying. "We can meet with the preacher in town or —“ She stopped and laid her hand on his forearm in a much too familiar fashion. "Would you rather be married in Santa Fe? Perhaps at the Loretto chapel?"

  He shot her a quick look and tried not to notice the eagerness shining in those golden depths. Instead, he focused on what she'd just said. The Loretto chapel. She knew about it. So she'd been to Santa Fe. Probably lived there and somehow had wandered off and ended up in Fortune.

  Keeping his voice even, he asked, "You've seen the chapel?"

  "Oh my, yes," she said and folded her hands in her lap as any well-bred lady would. "It's a lovely little place, isn't it?"