Catch a Fallen Angel

by Maureen Child

  She should stop this now, she told herself. Before it went too far.

  But it felt so good, she thought wildly. So good. So different from anything she'd ever known before. This hot, burning need to belong, to be a part of him. To feel Gabe's body cover her own.

  Yet that need was the very thing that gave her the strength to pull back and away from him. She couldn't do this, in spite of how badly she wanted him at this moment. Gabe was temporary in her life. He was the one who kept insisting that he'd be gone in less than two months. He was the one with one foot out the door already.

  And if she did surrender? What then? She was trying to avoid gossip, not feed it. What if she became pregnant? Then what? What chance would she have of giving her son the kind of life she wanted him to have?

  No. Heart pounding, body still trembling, Maggie looked up at him and ignored the hunger tearing at her insides. There was too much to lose by giving in to her own desires. Shaking her head, she said a bit breathlessly, "I'm sorry Gabe, but I can't do this."

  He only looked at her.

  Steeling herself against a change of heart, she turned for the door. His voice stopped her.

  “Maggie—“

  Quickly, she spoke up, not daring to look at him again. “Don't ask me to stay,” she said softly, then added, "Please.”

  He nodded and watched her go, wondering how he could still be standing when his heart had been torn from his chest

  "Nicely done," another, too familiar voice said from close by.

  Damn it.

  "Not now," Gabe ground out, slanting a glance at the shadows where the Devil stood, watching him.

  The black-clad man sauntered toward him, casting one quick glance at the darkened restaurant. “Get drunk, get in a fight, then seduce a good woman.” He smiled. "A busy night."

  Head pounding, every square inch of his body aching, Gabe stared at the gunfighter. "Don't you have somebody else to haunt?”

  “You know," the other man said as he studied him, "I don't think I gave you near enough credit."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  “The first day we met, when I said your sins weren't remarkable.”

  Gabe ran one hand over his eyes, but it was no use, the Devil was still there when he looked again. “What're you talking about?”

  The gunfighter stepped out of the shadows and bits of light fell on his face. "I'm talking about using your extra time on earth to seduce a good woman. Planning on taking her, then disappearing?”

  Gabe reared back as if he'd been slugged in the stomach.

  “If you're lucky, maybe you could even get her with child. Leave her with her reputation in tatters and a bastard child to boot." The gunfighter gave him an admiring nod. “Impressive."

  He hadn't even considered that, Gabe admitted. But then, all he'd been thinking of was his own need to hold her, to touch her. He hadn't deliberately set out to seduce her.

  "Didn’t you?” the Devil asked once again plumbing his mind for stray thoughts.

  Gabe snapped him a sharp look. “Stay the hell out of my head."

  “I go where I please."

  Wasn't it bad enough he was on his way to Hell? Did he really have to keep putting up with these unannounced visits from Satan himself? A body would think the Devil had better things to do.

  “Not at all.”

  Gabe sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and started along the boardwalk to the side of the building. Just as well he keep his distance from Maggie at the moment. Better to take the long way around and go in the back door.

  "Don't trust yourself?" the Devil asked, keeping pace with him.

  "Go to Hell."

  The Devil laughed, a hollow, dark sound. "I will, when I have what's mine."

  Gabe stopped at the back door, his hand on the latch.

  Turning, he looked at the other man, cloaked in shadows, and said, "You’ll have it. I promised you Henry, and I'll keep my word. But hear me, Devil. You stay clear of Maggie. And until my time is up, you stay clear of me."

  The other man's features tightened perceptibly. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, then pointed out just before he vanished into the shadows, "And you're the one toying with Maggie. Not me."

  When the Devil had gone, Gabe looked up at the night sky and scowled at whatever God might be watching. "How come I see so much of him and so damned little of You?" he asked tightly. But as he'd expected, there was no answer.

  The darkness surrounded him and Gabe found himself alone. Again.

  Chapter Ten

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  "Well now, that 'un weren't bad, Miss Maggie."

  Weren't bad. Well, that was certainly a better reaction than she was used to, Maggie told herself. Before Gabe's cooking lessons, her customers had been known to lurch for the door with their hands clapped over their mouths.

  Still, she was in no danger of giving a real cook a run for her money. But then how could she be expected to keep her mind on cooking lessons when all she could think about was kissing the teacher?

  Oh, good heavens, how had this happened to her?

  "Uh," the cowboy said, distracting her from her thoughts, "if you don’t need me anymore, I'll be goin'."

  He started to get up but Maggie laid one hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair.

  "One more, Woods," she said, adding, of course, "if you wouldn't mind."

  She sliced a wedge of yet another pie—this one dried peach—and set it in front of Woods Harper.

  "Now ma'am," he said, shaking his head and eyeing that slice of pie as he might a rattlesnake coiled to strike. "I already tried your apple and a piece each of mince and… prune."

  As he said it, Maggie thought she noticed him going a little green around the gills. And though she felt a bit sorry for him, she still needed an unbiased taste tester. Hands at her hips, Maggie tilted her head and gave the young cowboy a cajoling smile.

  "Just one more, Woods?” she asked.

  He sighed. "Ma'am, for another one of those smiles, I might could even choke down another piece of that"-he shuddered—“prune.”

  She grimaced slightly. One of the things she'd discovered was that not all fruits were meant to be in pies. “That's all right, I think we can call prune pie a mistake.”

  He nodded and rubbed one hand across his whiskery jaw. "Prob'ly wise, ma'am." Then, steeling himself, he picked up his fork and let it hover momentarily over the slice of peach pie as if trying to decide if he could actually eat it or not.

  Maggie bit back a sigh and reined in her impatience. She couldn't really blame people if they didn't want to taste her cooking. But how would she improve if she didn't get people to tell her what they thought?

  For two weeks now, she'd put every ounce of her will and concentration into learning how to cook. Which hadn't been easy, since it had meant spending so much time with Gabe. But it had been worth it. It was days now since she'd incinerated anything beyond saving.

  And in all that time, she thought, neither of them had once referred to that kiss. Just as well, she thought. Better to simply pretend it had never happened. And yet…

  She closed her eyes briefly and remembered it again. The moonlight, the barest touch of his hand on her face. His mouth on hers, breath mingling, tongues twisting.

  Maggie opened her eyes instantly, sucked in a gulp of air and hoped it would be enough to quell the sudden burst of heat that had lit up her insides. Mistake, she told herself firmly. That kiss had been a huge mistake. And thinking about it was driving her insane. She had to forget about it. Put it out of her mind completely.

  And apparently, Gabe felt the same. As much time as they'd spent together in the last two weeks, he'd been distant, polite…in other words, completely unlike the man she'd been getting to know. She wasn't entirely sure if she was grateful or angry that he could dismiss what they'd shared so easily.

  But then, maybe the kiss hadn't affected him as it had her. Maybe he'd kissed so many women in his life
that one more was just that. One more kiss. It didn’t necessarily follow that because she'd been knocked off her feet, he had too.

  "Hey, now," Woods said around a mouthful of peach pie.

  She blinked and looked down at him.

  Still chewing, he smiled at her and ducked his head. "This one here's a winner, Miss Maggie," he said and swallowed before tucking up another forkful.

  "Really?" A flush of success warmed her through as she stared at him in raw wonder. Finally. And all it had taken was six pies baked to get one good one.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said and polished off his slice of pie in record time. Then he stood up, pushing away from the table almost in self-defense.

  Maggie couldn't really blame him. She'd spent the last two weeks literally dragging people in off the street to taste her latest efforts. It had gotten so bad now that the citizens of Regret actually crossed the street in order to pass the restaurant safely.

  Poor Woods was too polite for that, and in exchange for his "Good morning," she'd kidnapped him and plopped him down at a table.

  “You actually liked it?" she asked and glanced at his crumb-laden plate as if for confirmation.

  "Yes, ma'am, I surely did," he said, backing toward the door, keeping a smile fixed on his face.

  “Thank you, Woods."

  He waved one hand at the restaurant and added, "I really like how you're fixin' up the place too."

  So Gabe had been right about that too. They hadn't even done much yet. Just a few knickknacks here and there and some brightly colored tablecloths. But Woods had noticed. Maybe others would, too.

  “I really appreciate your help."

  "Proud to oblige, ma'am. But I really do got to be going now." Close to the door, he grabbed hold of the knob and turned it. "The foreman's expecting me back long before this, I’m thinkin’."

  "Of course," she said.

  "But it was good, Miss Maggie," he repeated "and I'll be back with the boys come Saturday night.”

  She nodded and refused to take offense at how quickly he slipped through the door and made his escape. "See you—“ The door closed behind him and she finished lamely, "then."

  Alone, she glanced around the restaurant and noted the new yellow and white tablecloths and the cushions on the chairs. She still didn't have any customers beyond the stage passengers and her Saturday-night cowboys. But they would come, she told herself.

  They had to come.

  #

  Gabe shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down Main Street. He just needed to get out of that kitchen. Away from Maggie. At least for a while.

  "Hey, Gabe," someone called and he turned to his right and nodded at the barber.

  "Afternoon, Bass," he yelled loud enough so that the mostly deaf man would hear him.

  "Saw the smoke signals comin' from Maggie's kitchen this mornin',” the older man shouted on a snort of laughter. "She on the warpath again?"

  Gabe smiled. "No more than usual.”

  "Hell," another voice piped up and Gabe half turned his head to look at a man just stepping out of the barbershop. "I think she must be comin' along," he said, grinning. "The smoke today looked a lot lighter than last week's."

  All right, so she was still burning a few things. But not as many as before. "She's doin' fine," Gabe told them both. "You'll have to stop by the restaurant and give it a try."

  "Ain't likely,” Bass shouted, shaking his head. "I'm too old to die of poisoning. Rather go out with a bullet."

  "You keep cuttin' hair like you do,” the cowboy said in disgust, "and it'll happen!'

  Gabe chuckled and kept walking. Up and down the street, voices hailed him and he was stopped once or twice just to chew the fat. People smiled at him. Men he'd fought beside in the saloon a couple of weeks ago compared their fading bruises and rehashed the fight.

  He'd left the restaurant to be alone for a few minutes. And for the first time in his life, "alone" was a hard thing to find.

  Since he was a boy of seventeen, he'd never stayed in one town more than a few days. Before coming to Regret, at least. Being a gambler didn't afford a man the chance to make many friends. And those friends he did have were men who shared his vagabond way of life. Or men constantly on the run…like Henry, for instance.

  Gabe stopped at the end of the street, turned around and let his gaze drift across the now familiar houses and stores. He saw Tessa Hardy sweeping the front of the millinery and knew that when she was finish she'd head to the mercantile for a chat with Dolly. Bass Stevens was arguing loudly with a customer and Kansas Halliday had slipped so low in his porch chair it looked like he might just slither right off to sprawl in the dust. He knew these people, Gabe thought, frowning to himself. All his life, he'd never really belonged anywhere. Why was it, now that he was dead, he'd found a home of sorts? With friends. And neighbors. And Maggie.

  And which of these friends and neighbors would he be hurting when he took Henry off to Hades with him?

  Hell. Dead just kept getting more complicated.

  As he stood there, school let out and the air was punctured by high-pitched shouts of triumph and laughter. Turning into the sun, Gabe squinted at the small crowd of kids, looking for one particular face. He wasn't even surprised when Jake was the last kid out, shuffling his feet and taking his own sweet time about heading home. After all, what was the rush? When he got there, Maggie would just set him down for more schoolwork.

  The kid walked down those few steps as if each of his legs weighed fifty pounds. Gabe shook his head and smiled sadly. When the boy finally reached the bottom, instead of going on down Main Street, he turned and sidled along the edge of the building until he reached the back and there he stood, a solemn little guy all alone.

  Gabe's gaze followed the boy's and he saw that the kids were choosing up teams for a baseball game and he could almost feel Jake's loneliness. Poor kid was looking at that open pasture as if it was paradise. And as Gabe looked between Jake and the other kids, he had an idea. And he smiled.

  #

  Maggie had one wall and most of another painted an absolutely lovely shade of blue when she finally stopped long enough to look at the clock.

  “Three-forty?"

  She turned toward the front door as if expecting Jake to magically appear on the threshold. When he didn’t, she set her paintbrush down on the edge of the can and walked to the front door. Looking up one side of the street and down the other, she futilely searched for her son.

  “Well, where could he be?” she muttered and started walking toward the school. Wiping her paint-streaked hands on the old apron she wore to cover her dress, she paid no attention to the interested stares she received as she passed. But even if she'd noticed, she wouldn't have cared what they thought about the colorful splashes of paint dotting her face and clothes. At the moment, she wasn’t worried about gossips or being a "lady." Right now, the only thing on her mind was her son.

  Stepping off the boardwalk into the street, she hurried her steps, telling herself she wasn't really worried. She knew perfectly well that Jake was as safe in this town as he would be in his own bed. But still, she could admit to being curious. He knew he was to come directly home.

  As she neared the school, she heard the muted roar of a dozen or more young voices, shouting, cheering. Her hem snapped around her legs as her long strides carried her along the side of the schoolhouse to the back. And there she stopped.

  Out on the field, a baseball game was in progress and in the pitching position stood Gabe Donovan.

  She should have known.

  The wind ruffled his dark hair and tugged at his white shirt. A wide grin creased his face as he went through an elaborate series of moves. Then one of the kids yelled at him to hurry it up and Gabe lobbed the ball to the batter. The child swung and missed to a chorus of hoots and howls.

  "Strike one!" the catcher called out and tossed the ball back to Gabe.

  He caught it and turned to wave at the boys and girls standing in different
positions on the field. That's when Maggie spotted Jake. Her breath caught. He looked so small out there. Much smaller than the other children. She almost started for him. She actually took a step toward him and then she noticed the smile on his face. Proud and scared and excited, he practically vibrated with the thrill of being a part of the game.

  So she waited, hands twisting in the folds of her apron. Gabe threw the ball again and this time the solid crack of ball meeting bat sounded out. The baseball lifted straight up into the air. The batter ran for first base, the children shouted, Gabe turned, head back, to follow the ball, and Maggie's gaze focused on Jake.

  "It's all yours, Jake!" Gabe called.

  It was as if everything slowed down.

  The ball looked glaringly white against the gray cloud-swept sky. Jake stood stock-still, hands outstretched, waiting for the ball that was headed straight for him.

  Maggie held her breath and gripped her apron so tightly her fingers ached. She strained forward as if she could help her son if she concentrated hard enough.

  The ball dropped. Jake cupped his hands. And caught it, making the out.

  Maggie's breath left her in a rush. She smiled to herself as one of the other boys ran to Jake and slapped him on the back hard enough to make him stagger. Gabe strode across the field and formally shook his hand. And Jake's proud smile was so bright it almost hurt Maggie's eyes to look at it. He actually glowed.

  She slumped back against the school wall and barely noticed as the game continued. She kept Seeing Jake's pleasure and pride in himself. Over and over again, the images raced through her mind. And she'd been within a breath of taking him home and depriving him of that sense of accomplishment. The feeling of belonging to the team, being a part of something.

  Wasn't that why she'd moved to town in the first place?

  #

  Gabe walked up to her, his steps silent on the still mostly green pasture grass. He tossed one glance over his shoulder, saw that the kids were too busy with their game to pay attention to the adults, then he looked back at her as she stared at her son. Her expression was so wistful it tugged at the edges of his heart.