Walking on Air (22 page)

Going inside any of the businesses was out unless he actually wanted to buy something, a task he tried to do early in the morning, far earlier than he’d been out and about the first time he’d lived through this month. Otherwise he ran the risk of stumbling into reenactments. Knowing exactly what would happen next and what people were going to say before they said it . . . well, it gave him the fidgets. He didn’t find it entertaining, as the angel Gabriel had feared he might. Instead he was filled with an urgent need to escape.

So Gabe walked—something he had rarely done the last time. No more bellying up to a poker table in the saloon of an afternoon, where he might be tempted to fleece another player simply because he knew what cards would be dealt and to whom. No more lingering in the hotel restaurant, hearing the same conversations take place again. Out on the boardwalks, Gabe occasionally encountered someone that he’d bumped into before, but mostly he experienced no repeat performances.

During his outings, Gabe always stepped behind Lizzy’s Café at least once to check on the starving dog.
Not dead yet.
Gabe wasn’t sure why he went, because it made him feel bad when he walked away. He was drawn there, nevertheless. He didn’t allow himself to scratch the poor critter behind its ears. He said no kind words. Going there was pointless, and the animal’s begging eyes always made him feel guilty. But he went anyway.

And then there was the boy, who huddled under the staircase when he wasn’t skulking around town in search of nourishment.
That
really broke Gabe’s heart. He yearned to toss the kid money. Barring that, why couldn’t he at least give him some food? But he’d been given his instructions, and if he meant to get this right, he couldn’t disregard them.

One afternoon while walking, Gabe was passing Doc Peterson’s for the third time when the sight of a little girl and her mother stepping into the office waiting room stopped him dead in his tracks. Next week, on Tuesday the twenty-first, four days prior to Christmas, that young mother was going to take her little girl back into the doctor’s waiting room, where the child, who had a weak heart, would be exposed to a very nasty chest ailment that would take her life on Christmas Eve.

Gabe’s knees went suddenly weak, and he had to lean against the damn building to stay erect. His entire body broke out into a cold sweat. He knew that precious child was going to die, and he had it within his power to stop it from happening. Except that he could do nothing, absolutely
nothing
. Last week, Gabe had been able to reason his way past a deaf and frail old lady stepping off the boardwalk and dying under the wheels of a wagon.
Not my place to intervene.
Okay, yes, he could accept that. Everyone had to die at some point, and that old lady’s time had come. But the child? She was only about three, barely out of diapers. Maybe the weak heart would take her later in childhood anyway, but what if it didn’t? What if, by stepping in, Gabe could give her a chance to live a happy and fruitful life well into old age?

Walking back toward Nan’s shop, Gabe felt physically sick.
It’s not my place to mess with stuff like that. I’m not supposed to alter events while I’m here.
But the words pinged inside his head like shotgun pellets rattling around in a tin can.

By the time he reached home—or what he’d come to think of as home, anyhow—Nan had flipped her door sign over to read
CLOSED
. Gabe was relieved that he’d be able to cross the store and escape upstairs without having to exchange pleasantries with Geneva White or some other female customer. He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just outrun a pack of flesh-devouring hounds.

“Gabriel?” Interrupted from tidying her cashbox counter, Nan fixed a worried gaze on him. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Gabe told her, but he couldn’t say it with any conviction.

Nan circled out from behind the partition and moved toward him. “Oh, dear, are you coming down sick? Geneva says there’s a nasty illness going around. Simon caught it and took to his bed for nearly a week. He’s all right now, but Geneva says he grew so congested that she had to send for Doc. Now, apparently, it’s sweeping through town like wildfire.”

Pushing up on her tiptoes, she reached to check Gabe’s forehead for fever. He caught her slender wrist before her fingers connected. He didn’t want her to feel how clammy his skin was. “I’m fine, Nan, only a little tired for some reason.”

“Tired? You look gray. Get yourself upstairs. I’ll hurry along as quickly as I can, and I’ll dose you with some of Mr. Redmond’s tonic. He swears by the stuff, so I always keep a bottle on hand.”

“I don’t need any tonic,” Gabe protested. “Maybe just a fresh cup of hot coffee to perk me up. I got chilled during my walk.”

She frowned up at him. “Well, silly you. That’s to be expected when you haven’t the good sense to wear a coat.”

“I can’t wear a coat when I’m walking fast for exercise. I get too hot.”

She gave that derisive little snort that he’d come to expect whenever she disagreed with him. “You didn’t get too hot today. Upstairs with you. I’ll build up both fires, and you’ll be toasty in no time.”

As Gabe climbed the stairs to the apartment, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel warm again.

•   •   •

While Nan fussed over him, Gabe’s mind circled the dilemma he found himself facing. If he did anything to alter the course of events that was destined to occur, he would be in trouble up to his eyebrows. But what if he found a way to change some things—only a few—without actually turning a hand to do anything himself? Once the idea took hold in his mind, it wouldn’t leave.

That evening, over another of Nan’s wonderful suppers—beef gravy and mashed potatoes with hot rolls slathered with butter, preserved corn, and green beans as sides—Gabe said casually, “I sure do see some sad things during my walks.”

Both Laney and Nan said, “You do?”

Careful, Gabe.
Even though neither angel had made his presence known for quite some time, Gabe figured they had celestial spies keeping a close eye on him. “Oh, yeah. So sad that it makes me question the goodness of humanity sometimes. How can people turn a blind eye to obvious suffering? I just don’t understand it.”

Nan let go of her fork, making a loud clink against her plate. Her eyes filled with concern. She so seldom left her shop to mingle with others that she honestly didn’t know what was happening in the town she now called home. And Laney wasn’t allowed to go near the saloon, and had no reason to venture behind Lizzy’s Café on her way to and from school.

“Suffering?” Nan echoed. “What suffering?”

Gabe shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s enjoy our meal. I don’t want to upset you or Laney.” If he could herd them around to
pressing
him for the information he wished to impart, maybe the angels would give him a pass. “Some things are just meant to be, I suppose.”

“What things?” Nan glanced at Laney. “Is it too awful for young ears?”

Gabe forced a smile that he knew
looked
forced, because he honestly didn’t have a real smile in him tonight. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

He resumed eating, counting off the seconds. Through his lowered lashes, he saw Nan retrieve her fork, but she put nothing in her mouth.

“Well, now that you’ve said something, you can’t leave it at that,” she complained. “What on earth is happening in our town that people are ignoring? Do tell, or my imagination shall bedevil me all night.”

“Mine, too!” Laney cried. “I shan’t turn a blind eye if
I
see suffering.”

Gabe prayed not. Now that he had his ladies waiting with bated breath for him to enlighten them, he couldn’t decide whom he wanted them to help first, the boy or the dog. Being human, the boy took priority; there wasn’t a question in Gabe’s mind about that. On the other hand, he wasn’t any too sure the dog could last much longer without food.

“I’ve seen two things that really disturb me,” he finally said. “And I’m unable to do anything in both cases.” He made a show of peppering his meat, deliberately taking his time. “There’s a half-grown pup under a lean-to out behind Lizzy’s. Aside from the fact that all he’s got for a bed is a tattered hunk of wet blanket, he’s slowly starving to death. I think he smells the food inside the café and hopes to get handouts, but apparently Lizzy and her customers who pass through the backyard aren’t possessed of generous hearts.”

“He’s
starving
?” Laney’s eyes bugged. “Truly?”

Gabe nodded. “He’d be a good-size dog if he had any meat on his bones. Longish yellow fur. It’s all matted right now, and his ribs poke out like Conestoga wagon hoops. He’s on his last legs, I’m afraid.”

Laney directed a yearning glance at Nan, to which Nan responded with, “No, little miss, you absolutely
cannot
bring the poor thing home. We’ve no place here for a dog. No fenced area out back. Animals must have access to the outdoors to tend to . . . Well,
that
goes without saying.” Nan sighed. “You’re at school all day, except on weekends, and I’m busy in the shop. There’s no one to take him out for walks.”

“Gabe could do it, Mama! He walks all afternoon.” Laney sent Gabe a pleading look. “Right, Gabe?”

Aware that he’d be gone soon, Gabe couldn’t bring himself to saddle Nan with a dog she honestly couldn’t care for. Thinking quickly, he said, “I’m not so sure that would work. The poor fellow is scared to death of me.” That was one of the biggest lies Gabe had ever told. Dogs always took right up with him, and he had no doubt that the starving mutt behind Lizzy’s would as well if Gabe offered so much as a kindly word of encouragement. “That’s why I haven’t taken him any food. He’s so scared of me, I doubt he’d touch it.”

Nan frowned. “Can’t you just”—forgetting her table manners, she swung her fork and tossed a bit of gravy onto the front of Laney’s pink dress—“
throw
the poor thing some food? We have plenty of stuff left over, so much that the icebox won’t hold all of it, and it’s always going bad on me. We could feed two dogs and a small child on a daily basis with what I throw out.”

Laney mopped at her dress. Nan was so upset about the dog that she hadn’t even noticed what she’d done. In that moment, Gabe realized how easily he could completely lose his heart to this woman. If she had a mean bone in her body, he’d never yet seen it.

“He won’t let me get that close.” Another lie, but Gabe, who normally avoided speaking untruths, had decided he wasn’t counting. “Even if I put all my muscle into it, the offering would wind up in the middle of Lizzy’s rear dooryard. Some customer would step in the muck, and then there’d be hell to pay for the dog. Lizzy would immediately put two and two together. She might even ask somebody to shoot it for her.”

“You
are
rather fearsome, Gabe.” Laney tossed her soiled napkin down beside her plate. “If I were a starving dog, I’d be a mite scared of you, too. But I bet—”

“Young ladies do
not
bet,” Nan interrupted.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nan.” Gabe gave her a loaded look. “We bet all the time when we play poker. The sky won’t rain rocks upon the child’s head for saying such an innocent word.”

Nan made a fist over her heart, swept her eyes closed for a moment, and then said, “You are correct. I’m sorry for getting off topic. Old habits die hard.” She offered Laney an apologetic smile. “You may continue, dear heart. I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

Laney, still wide-eyed, revised her approach. “I will venture a
guess
that the dog won’t be afraid of me, and I could take food right into the lean-to without upsetting him at all.”

Nan nodded. “I think your
guess
is probably correct. Gabriel does have a—” She broke off and sent Gabe another penitent look. “Well, let me just say that you scared the sand out of me the first time we met.”

“It’s his black attire and those frightful guns that he wears,” Laney observed. “If he’d dress like a normal person, he wouldn’t look quite so intimidating. He’d just look interesting.”

“
Laney!
”
Nan admonished. “It is extremely careless of Gabriel’s feelings to criticize his choice of clothing. He doesn’t dress abnormally.”

“He doesn’t dress like all the other men in town,” the child protested.

Gabe shot up a hand. “Ladies, ladies.” To Nan, he said, “My feelings are not in the least hurt by Laney’s observation. I dress for effect and deliberately try to look mean. I’m a fast draw, remember. Looking mean discourages upstarts who want to take me on. Usually,” he added, remembering Pete Raintree. Then, to Laney, he said, “I’m glad to hear that I look intimidating. That’s my aim. So can we return to discussing a solution for the poor dog?”

“I can get close enough to feed him,” Laney pronounced. “I’m certain I can. I’m only a girl. Nobody, not even a possibly mistreated dog, is afraid of a girl.”

She struck fear into Gabe’s heart every time he looked at her, only not in the way she meant. Pretty soon boys would be lining up at Nan’s door to see Laney. Gabe wouldn’t be around to oversee the situation or step in to teach the unruly young pups proper calling manners.

“It’s settled then.” Nan studied her uneaten meal with a forlorn expression. “I’ve lost my appetite, thinking about the poor thing. He can have what’s left of my supper.”

“Mine, too,” Laney seconded.

Gabe’s usual hunger for Nan’s cooking had vanished that afternoon when he’d seen the little girl. “Mine goes into the pot, for sure. I won’t die sometime during the night if I don’t get something to eat. The poor mutt might.” Before his ladies could leap into action, Gabe forestalled them with, “But the dog is only part of the problem.”

Nan, caught in midmotion as she rose from her chair, sank back onto her seat. “Oh, no! Is there another homeless animal that’s starving?”

“Not an animal,” Gabe replied. “It’s a cold, hungry boy, about Laney’s age, maybe a little older. He huddles under the—” Catching himself just in time, Gabe refrained from using the word
brothel
in front of Laney. “Just this side of the saloon, there’s a staircase open to the street. He hides in the far left corner, where the shadows help to conceal him. His mother took off with some cowpoke, promising to return. I have no idea what happened to her, but I don’t believe she’ll come back.” Gabe held up a staying finger. “I know you, Nan. You’ll want to gather him up and bring him home. But this boy has led a hard life. What he really needs is to be taken in by a family—a family with at least a couple of other children
and
an experienced father to ride herd on him. This boy may be given to violent acts. He may be a thief. His language may be even rougher than mine.”