Catch a Fallen Angel
Page 26
"What was that?"
"I said, you're talkin' like a fool."
Conner laughed shortly, stretched his long legs out and crossed his booted feet at the ankle. Closing his eyes, he balanced his whiskey glass on his chest and decided to ignore Grub and try for a little peace and quiet.
That hope was shattered in the next instant when a crashing thud sounded from upstairs.
Conner's eyes flew open and he shot a quick look at the hall and stairway, half expecting to find the shingled roof lying across the scarred wood floors.
"What the hell was that?" Grub demanded.
"Sounds like the whole damn place is falling in," Conner shouted as he set his glass aside. He raced for the stairs and the second story beyond. Blast it, he should have fixed the dang roof before building that new corral. But he'd wanted to take care of important things first. And his small string of horses was the most important thing in the world to him at the moment.
He took the steps two at a time, his long legs carrying him far faster than poor Grub could manage. Absently, he heard the older man's footsteps pounding heavily on the stairs behind him, but didn't slow his pace to wait for him.
The long hallway stretched out in front of him. The frayed, threadbare carpet runner snaking along the marred oak flooring masked his steps slightly as he hurried down the hall toward a series of smaller sounds, muffled crashes and a tinkle of broken glass echoed in the big old house.
He hardly paused before the closed door to his bedroom. Grabbing the brass doorknob, he twisted it and gave the door a push. Stepping across the threshold, he stopped dead.
It looked as though a twister had set down in the middle of his room. Through the roof. A wide, gaping hole displayed the deep blue sky and Conner stared for a long, stunned minute as threads of clouds drifted past the opening.
"Damn it," he muttered before turning his gaze on what was left of his room. The mattress on his four-poster bed now lay drunkenly half on the floor, its supporting slats broken beneath it. A side table lay on end, the contents of its single drawer scattered across the faded Oriental rug. The globe hurricane lamp that had once rested on that table lay smashed into fragments and the smell of lamp oil permeated the room. Even the curtains hung askew on the windows.
How the hell had this happened? he wondered. And why now? Didn't he have enough to worry about without picking up after some rogue tornado?
Behind him, Conner heard Grub breathing heavy from his run up the stairs. "What—" Puff, "—in tarnation—" Pant, "—is goin ' on?"
"Looks like some blamed twister dropped in."
"A twister?" Grub repeated, astonished, as he took in the mess. "Here?"
"You got a better explanation?" Conner snapped in disgust and kicked at a shard of glass that lay winking at him in a patch of late afternoon sunshine.
"Here now," an indignant female voice shouted from behind the torn, dark green draperies hanging from one of the bed's four posts. "There's no need to be slicin' me into ribbons. Haven't I only just survived bein' crushed by this great bed of yours?"
A woman?
What the devil was going on around here? Conner stomped farther into the room and looked around the end of the bed. His gaze landed on a redheaded female, sitting on his floor with her skirt hiked up above the knees of extremely shapely legs. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Click here to finish reading Dream Weaver
Other historical romances by Maureen Child:
This Time for Keeps
The Bandit's Lady
A Pocketful of Paradise
Still Close to Heaven
When the Halo Falls
Mountain Dawn
Nevada Heat
Small Treasures
Charms
Wishes
Paper Hearts (novella)
Frontier Bride