Chapter Eighteen

Once back at the shop, Nan laid out a tall stack of yardage scraps, a roll of dark green twine, a pile of ribbon ends, and scissors on her downstairs project table so the gift wrapping could begin. Upstairs under her bed, she’d hidden small gifts that she and Gabriel had purchased to go in the children’s socks. Those could wait for later. But in her armoire, she’d stashed all her main gifts for everyone, along with the things she’d chosen for her husband’s sock: a comb, an ivory-handled razor, and a strop. Gabriel’s big gift from her was a bright red shirt, which she’d worked on in between customers while he’d been gone for afternoon walks over the last month. To Nan, the shirt’s brilliant hue was symbolic of Christmas and salvation, and she hoped he’d wear it tomorrow morning for his walk just before dawn.

Nan hid the gifts she needed to wrap in a pillowcase and spirited all of them downstairs to her workroom before she allowed anyone else to have a turn. As the primary cook, she figured she needed to go first. She’d made a nice school frock for Laney, blue with a dainty pattern of pink nosegays and darker blue eyelet ruffles, and a Sunday dress of russet satin with a pin-pleated bodice and dark umber trim. For Christopher, she’d been forced because of time constraints to purchase store-bought garments: two shirts and another pair of britches, plus some house slippers. Gabriel had gotten the boy a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, which Nan had promised to read aloud to the child if he hadn’t yet learned his letters. Nan’s husband believed that the wonderful world to be discovered in books would encourage the boy to study. Nan prayed so, but mostly she wanted Christopher to enjoy the magic of this special season. She hoped he liked the sock gifts that she and Gabriel had chosen, for she suspected that Gabriel wasn’t the only one who was about to experience his first real Christmas. From Santa the boy would get a block-and-peg puzzle, a hair comb and pomade, a small bottle and an underarm stick of men’s cologne, a hand-tooled leather coin pouch, and a colorful poke of assorted hard candies. Both children’s socks would be filled to the brim.

After finishing up, Nan carried her offerings back upstairs in the pillowcase and then unveiled each gift to place it under the tree. Christopher, who’d never wrapped a present, asked Nan to teach him how, so back down to the shop she went to oversee the boy’s first attempt. When he seemed comfortable with the process, she abandoned him to his own devices to stuff the first turkey she’d purchased in years. When the bird was in the oven, she peeled potatoes and covered them with salted water in a pot. Then she worked on other side dishes. The four desserts—a batch of cinnamon sticky buns, a peach cobbler, an apple pie, and a dried-fruit cake—had been prepared yesterday and the day before that.

Constantly hovering, Gabriel continuously dipped his finger in her mixings. Recalling the morning when she’d caught him and Laney tasting with their stirring spoon, Nan realized just how far she’d come in only a month. What might have raised her eyebrows before Gabriel’s arrival now only made her smile and teasingly scold. Life was about so very much more than observing rules of proper etiquette and practicing good manners. This man had taught her that. True living was about laughing, loving, and enjoying each moment. And, oh, how she did enjoy seeing Gabriel’s pleasure when he snitched samples of the holiday fare.

At some point while Nan bustled about her kitchen, her husband disappeared. The dog had accompanied the children to the sitting room, where a great deal of gift probing and guessing of contents was taking place. With everything at the ready for later, when she would finish preparing the holiday meal, Nan was free until the turkey had baked to a turn. After checking all the upstairs rooms, she slipped down to her shop. Gabriel stood at a window, gazing solemnly out at the street. Now that it was midafternoon, the shops had mostly closed in honor of the holiday, and there were few people on the boardwalks.

“What is it?” Nan stepped close and touched a hand to his arm. She wondered if the reality of what he would face on the morrow had suddenly struck him. “Are you all right?”

Black hair glistening in the winter light that came through the glass, he tucked his chin to give her one of those slanted grins she’d come to love so much, only the warmth of it didn’t reach his coffee-dark eyes. “Just thinking about opportunities missed.”

“Such as?”

He shook his head and went back to street watching. “Remember my story about the three lost souls I could have chosen to save?” He lifted his shoulders in a frustrated shrug. “I totally forgot about the lonely old man, Tyke Byden. Or was it Bayden?”

“Baden,” Nan supplied. “He’s a sad case, angry at the world. He lost his whole family to influenza about fifteen years ago, or so the story goes. I didn’t live in Random then. But folks say he was once a grand, lofty fellow, always jovial and friendly, a very hard worker who did well by his wife and seven children, who were all nearly grown when they died. As I recall, the younger pair of twins, both girls, were thirteen, and the older set, two boys, were eighteen. The other three kids, two girls and a boy, ranged in ages somewhere in between. I’ve been told that all of the Baden youngsters were handsome and trained up right.” Nan sighed. “After losing his family, Mr. Baden took to drink, and now he chases away anyone who dares to darken his doorstep. His wife’s name was Miriam, I believe. He must have loved her dearly, and his children as well.”

“I should have rapped on his door,” Gabriel said, his voice husky with regret. “Somehow I didn’t think about it until now, when it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” Nan replied. “My goodness, our table sits six, and I’ve fixed enough food to feed half of Random.”

“The angels told me he curses a blue streak, Nan. I can’t go fetch him and bring him here to eat. Even if you are willing to put up with his language, I have to think of Laney. Besides, Tyke needs more than I can offer in a night. The angels said he needs to love and be loved again. You can’t serve that up on a supper plate.”

“Who says I cannot?” Nan hugged her husband’s arm. “What you’re saying is that Mr. Baden needs a family, and in my estimation, the feeling of family begins at a supper table.”

She felt Gabriel stiffen. “He needs people who’ll include him for longer than an evening.” His lashes drifted down to rest like black etchings against his bronze skin. When he met Nan’s gaze again, his eyes fairly ached with sadness. “From what I saw, he lives in a trash pile. The smell alone nearly took my breath away. If we invited him to our table, the stench of him would probably spoil our appetites.”

“I could douse him with vanilla extract.”

Gabriel laughed and shook his head.

“Gabriel, I’m willing to take him in if that will make you happy. No, forget that. I think we should take him in, because it’s the right thing to do.”

He arched an ebon brow at her. “And what, hang him on a cloak hook? You don’t have sleeping room for another person upstairs.”

“True, but once my workroom is emptied out, there will be room for two comfortable cots. It will be close quarters but doable. And the shelving can be used for garments and footwear. Mr. Redmond has cots in stock at the general store. He’ll be closed until the day after Christmas, but you and I can empty the storage room tomorrow evening, and we can set up the cots on Saturday. Heaven knows I’ve plenty of quilts, and we can purchase some bed linens and pillows.”

“I won’t be here tomorrow night to help you empty the storage room.”

Nan felt as if a fist had connected with her chest and pushed all the breath from her lungs. For her husband’s sake, she managed to recover her composure quickly, though she felt certain he’d seen her flinch at his words. “Then I shall call upon Christopher and Laney to assist me. As for the cots, Mr. Wilson earns extra coin by helping customers with heavy items, and he is happy to assemble purchases for those who aren’t able. He’ll come right in and do the work for me.”

“And where will you and I sleep tonight? We can’t put Christopher on the floor and an old man on the settee. We’d have to give Baden your bed.”

Nan gestured toward her downstairs workroom. “We can move the table aside and make ourselves a pallet on the floor.”

“What about customers of a morning?”

“By the time the shop reopens on Monday, the sleeping arrangements will be in place.”

He searched her gaze, looking a bit stupefied. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, Gabriel. I’m getting the hang of this adoption business. First a boy, then a dog, and tonight a lonely old fellow who needs a family.” Nan placed a palm against his cheek. “We’re a bit tight on room, but we’ve plenty of love to go around, and feeding another mouth isn’t a problem. We have a great deal of money in the bank, as I recall.”

“What if Tyke Baden is an irascible, coarse, foulmouthed old codger, and you end up sorely sorry that you ever invited him here?”

“I do not countenance coarse behavior. He’ll be served a bar of soap for breakfast.”

Gabriel guffawed. When his mirth subsided, he trailed a warm gaze over Nan’s face. “You are a priceless gift. Do you know that? I honestly think you can take Tyke Baden on with one hand tied behind your back.”

Nan dimpled a cheek at him. “Stand aside, sir, and observe me in action. If Mr. Baden needs a few reminders of how to properly comport himself, I shall be most generous with them.”

Nan turned for the stairs.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Gabe called.

“Upstairs to collect the rest of our brood. If we’re going calling to adopt a grandfather, we shall do it together, so the poor old fellow can see what he’s getting into before he accepts the supper invitation.”

•   •   •

Gabe wasn’t any too worried about Tyke Baden’s reaction to Nan and the kids. Oh, no. It was Nan and the kids’ reaction to Baden that concerned him. He’d seen Tyke through a parting in the clouds, and he wasn’t exactly the grandfatherly image that Nan clearly pictured. He rushed up the stairs behind his wife and caught her three steps below the door. In the semidark, her fair skin and golden hair fairly glowed when she swung around to face him. He stood two levels below her. It was the first time in Gabe’s memory that he’d been eye-to-eye with her—unless, of course, he counted when they’d been making love.

“Nan, I appreciate your generous intent, but I can’t allow you to—”

“You were wrong about Christopher. He is rough at the edges, but so are diamonds before they are refined and polished. I think, considering the short amount of time he has been here, that he has fitted in beautifully.”

“He still lets loose with cusswords, Nan. At the table he pokes out his elbows like a bird trying to take flight. He chews with his mouth open. I doubt he can put his own name to paper. I admit he’s a lovable kid, and I don’t regret bringing him home. He needed rescuing, and he’s young enough to change. Tyke Baden is old and set in his ways. I can’t let you—”

“Let me?”

Gabe was so taken aback by her sudden frosty tone that he went speechless for a moment. And while he groped for words, his diminutive wife drilled his chest with her fingertip to emphasize each utterance. “You do not rule me, Mr. Valance. Not now, not ever. This ring on my hand is not a deed of ownership. I am my own person, and I make my own choices. Is that clear?”

Gabe thought she’d made it pretty damned clear. He was just startled by her sudden assertiveness. This wasn’t his Nan. Only how could he say that for certain? He hadn’t exactly been domineering in this relationship thus far, so maybe he’d just never pushed her to a point that she’d revealed this stubborn, stiff-spined side of herself. “I never meant to imply—”

“Champion. I shall ignore your poor choice of words and pretend they were never spoken.” She gathered her skirts to resume the ascent. “Come along. We’ve a family to collect, an old man to fetch, a turkey in the oven, and when we return, we must finish fixing our holiday supper.”

•   •   •

Tyke Baden lived two streets over from Main on Second Street. Nan led the way, cutting behind Lizzy’s Café to shorten the distance. When Jasper saw the lean-to, he let out a mournful whine.

“Don’t be sad,” Laney said, reaching out to pat the dog’s head. “You shall never again live there. You’re a proper fellow now and have a home!”

“He don’t understand a word you say,” Christopher observed.

Laney popped back, “You talk to him, too. Under your breath, mostly, but I’ve heard you. So don’t make jest of me for doing the same.”

Nan, two steps ahead of Gabriel, stopped so suddenly to whirl around that he nearly barreled right over the top of her. The light was fading suddenly. Snow clouds, blocking the sun, Gabe guessed, and in the gloaming, Nan’s eyes sparkled with perturbed impatience. “Shush, the both of you! I will not have you bickering. It is to be a holy night for only love, laughter, and kindly exchanges. If you don’t curb your tongues, I shall rap each of you on the noggin with one of my wooden spoons the moment we get home.”

Gabe fleetingly wondered how kindly exchanges and head knocking went hand in hand, but he wasn’t about to voice the question aloud. His spouse wasn’t very tall, and she’d have a hell of a time reaching his high end with a stirring stick, but he wouldn’t put it past Nan to climb on a chair to get the job done. And Gabe knew, deep down, that he’d just stand there and take the thumping.

The children stared at his wife with wide eyes. Nan turned to resume her pace. Gabe winked at the kids and fell in behind their leader again. He felt like a duckling in a queue.

In the gathering twilight, the sprawling Baden home didn’t look too bad from a distance, but as they neared the dooryard, Gabe saw that the two-level residence was in horrible disrepair. The picket fence no longer sported a chip of paint, and lay on the ground in sections. Loose shingles had worked their way down the pitched roof to dangle over the edge of the eaves. The porch overhang sagged. The stoop itself had broken boards and steps that looked too rotten to bear weight. All in all, the structure reminded Gabe of a house of cards that would collapse if you breathed too hard on it.

“Nan, wait.” Gabe caught his wife’s arm to hold her back. “I’ll go up first. If those planks are as decayed as they appear to be, you could fall through and break a leg.”

“What of you?”

He gave her a significant look and moved ahead of his fine-feathered flock to try the first step. It groaned but didn’t break when he put his weight on it. Flashing a palm at Nan and the kids to hold them back, he gained the porch deck and stepped gingerly this way and that to test the planks.

“All right,” he said. “You can come on up. It’s safe enough.”

Gabe turned to the front door, which had a glass pane in the upper half. No knocker. He put his fist to the wood, rapping loudly several times, and then cocked his head to listen as Nan, the kids, and Jasper formed a half circle behind him. “All I hear in there is what the little boy shot at.”

“What did the little boy shoot at?” Laney asked in a loud whisper.

Christopher harrumphed. “Nothin’. That’s what he shot at. Don’t you know anything normal?”

Gabe couldn’t help but grin. Nan would have her hands full with that pair. Oh, how Gabe wished he’d be around to help her rap heads.

“I see a faint light,” Nan said, pointing at the curtained door window. “No one would leave the house with a lamp burning.”

Gabe agreed. That held particularly true for an old fellow who lived with trash piled high all around him. Talk about a tinderbox; this place was it. “Maybe he’s deaf. I couldn’t tell when I saw him through the clouds.”

“What clouds?” Christopher asked.

“None of your beeswax,” Laney retorted.

Gabe knocked again, but no one stirred within the house. “I think I’ll just try the door.”

It didn’t surprise Gabe when the knob turned. Unlocked. He’d wager a big bet that half the people in Random left their homes open to intruders. As he pushed the door inward, the hinges whined in protest. Gabe was thinking that they needed some oil when Jasper tried to squeeze between him and the doorframe. “No way, fella. You probably smell garbage and hope to go foraging.” Oddly, the stench Gabe had associated with Tyke Baden’s home didn’t drift to his nostrils. “Laney, you hold him,” Gabe said, pushing the canine toward the girl. “Christopher, you stay here with Laney and Jasper while Nan and I go in. We don’t want to frighten the poor old fellow.”

Nan inched over the threshold behind Gabe, which felt odd, because he normally always stepped aside while she went first. Though cast in shadow, the space he entered appeared to be a dingy foyer, flanked on the left side by a staircase. One door held center position on the opposite wall, but Gabe’s attention was riveted to another portal at the end of the hallway. A thin wedge of light shone beneath it. Nan clutched Gabe’s sleeve.

“If he’s deaf and didn’t hear us knocking, we mustn’t scare him. What if his heart stops?”

Gabe rotated his shoulders and tipped his head from side to side, trying to work the tension from his muscles. “I think you should wait here, Nan. For all we know, he may have a shotgun at the ready.”

Her grasp tightened convulsively. “But what if he shoots you?”

Gabe bent to kiss her forehead. “I don’t think my angels will allow anyone or anything to interfere with my appointment tomorrow.” He gently pried Nan’s slender fingers from his sleeve. “Stay here. All right? I’ll holler when I think it’s safe.”

She nodded. Gabe glanced back to see both kids and the dog bunched together on the threshold. He raised a hand to signal that they should wait. Then he stepped around Nan to advance on the room ahead of them. Picturing it in his mind, Gabe knew that it was a small, informal sitting room just off the kitchen and dining area. It made sense that Baden would utilize only a portion of the large home. What point was there in going upstairs to sleep every night when all the bedchambers on the second floor held only poignant memories of his lost loved ones? Sadness pinched Gabe’s heart. He’d only just gotten a taste of how grand it was to have a family. He couldn’t imagine loving a woman and helping her raise seven children almost to adulthood, only to lose every last one of them, including his wife, to illness. The pain of it must have been inestimable, enough to take even a strong-willed man to his knees.

The hinges of this door didn’t creak, which was a relief. Gabe expected to see the same room that he’d viewed through the clouds—a tiny alcove with one chair in front of the fireplace and piles of garbage along the walls. Instead a fairly tidy room greeted his searching gaze. And the nostril-searing stench he anticipated was absent.

As before, a fire burned in the brick hearth, and, ensconced in a worn green velvet parlor chair, an old man sat staring off into space. A lighted lantern perched atop a tome-laden shelf behind him, casting his face into partial shadow. Gabe froze in his tracks, for this was not the same fellow that the angels had shown him. This individual had a clean-shaven face. His thin gray hair, parted at one side from crown to temple, had been carefully arranged in a thin layer of strands over his bald pate and held fast with pomade. He wore a dated but clean ditto suit, a dark gray sack coat with black velvet lapels over a matching waistcoat and contrasting black trousers. At his throat, his red necktie had been double-looped and affixed to his dingy white shirt with a silver stickpin. The strong but not unpleasant scent of men’s cologne filled the room.

Gabe, whose presence still hadn’t been noted by the man, started to back carefully away, hoping to vanish without ever being seen. Nan had brought them to the wrong house, and if that wasn’t a hell of a note, Gabe didn’t know what was. How would he explain his reasons for entering this home without an invitation?

Only, just as Gabe had retreated as far as the half-opened door, he noticed a shiny streak on the old man’s cheek, the still-wet path of a recently shed tear. Gabe froze. Couldn’t make his feet move. And just then something caught the old man’s attention. With no apparent surprise at having an unexpected caller, the fellow turned his head to study Gabe with a bright blue gaze.

“So,” he said shakily, “you came after all. It took you long enough. I finally decided you were waiting for today. It’s a time for good deeds, I reckon, but I’d about given up on you.”

What? Gabe thought the question, but he couldn’t make his voice work. How could the old man have been expecting him? At a touch on his sleeve, Gabe nearly parted company with his boots. Nan. She’d disregarded his order to hang back and had joined him in the sitting area.

“Happy Christmas Eve, Mr. Baden!” she said with merry good cheer. “We knocked at your door, but you mustn’t have heard us.”

Baden’s gaze warmed slightly as he studied Nan. “I heard; I just never answer. I figured a gunslinger would come in whether I went to the door or not, and just in case it wasn’t him, I had no desire to endure another visit from those addlepated church ladies.” He huffed under his breath. “Not a one of them can cook worth a lick, and they pester a poor man to death with casseroles. The widows are the worst, fluttering and primping, as if I’d ever look twice.” He shook his head vehemently, and a smile touched his crinkled mouth. “Don’t hold a candle to my Miriam, God rest her dear soul.”

Apparently Nan had gauged the situation to be safe, for she moved toward the old man. In a loud voice, she said, “We’ve come to invite you to spend Christmas with us in our home!”

“No need to shout. I’m not deef!”

“Oh!” Nan flapped a hand. “My apologies, Mr. Baden. I didn’t mean to—”

Just then, Jasper shot past Gabe’s leg. No, Gabe thought. But before he could move, the dog leaped up to plant both gigantic front paws on Baden’s bony lap.

“Jasper!” Laney cried, darting past Gabe nearly as quickly as the canine had. “No, no!”

Gabe figured Christopher would appear next, and sure enough he did, only he at least had the good sense to press his back against the wall and remain guarded until he knew it was safe. Gabe had heaps of work to do if he meant to have a family that heeded his orders—and he had little time left to effect that change.

“Jasper!” Gabe whisper-shouted. “Get the hell down!”

“Language,” Christopher said from behind him.

“Not now!” Gabe told the boy. He hurried over, fully intending to drag the dog off poor Baden.

Laney futilely attempted to pull Jasper from the old man’s lap. The dog, which seemed bent on making friends with every new individual he happened upon, was busily cleaning Tyke’s left ear. Baden sputtered and pushed, but Jasper was a big fellow and wasn’t easily discouraged.

“No, Jasper!” the girl cried. “Mind your manners!”

Nan saved the day, and the wonder of it was, she never had to so much as touch the canine. In her I-mean-business voice, which Gabe had heard her use with the kids, she said, “Jasper, off!”

The dog whined in protest but obeyed, dropping to all fours beside Baden’s chair. Tyke Baden looked beyond Nan to skewer Gabe with an accusing blue gaze. “Your dog needs a firm hand, sir. With manners like that, he’ll be knocking old ladies on their behinds and sending toddlers off the boardwalk. Large animals cannot be allowed to behave like ruffians.”

“We’ve only had him since yesterday,” Laney said. “He’ll be a fine gentleman with more training. Just you wait, and you shall see! You shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

“Laney!” Nan scolded.

Tyke focused on the girl for the first time. After studying her face, which had gone pink at the cheeks with indignation, he reached for his cane, which he’d propped against the brick hearth. “Well said, lass. And if you’ve only had him since yesterday, I’d say he’s coming along at a fast clip.” Using his free hand, Tyke fondled Jasper’s ears and smiled. “He’s a beauty, isn’t he? Where’d you get him?”

A bit of the starch slipped from Laney’s spine. “He was starving to death out behind Lizzy’s Café.”

“Ah, yes, Random’s miserly restaurateur, Lizzy. She’s stingy to a fault. Got it from her mother, I reckon. She ran the place first, and rumor had it that she scraped food from one customer’s plate and fed it to the next poor sap who was stupid enough to eat there. Nasty business, that.” He sighed. “Back to the dog. I take it you’ve adopted him.”

“Yes, sir,” Laney answered. “We’ve been feeding him for a while, and yesterday Christopher and I brought him home to see if Mama wouldn’t allow us to keep him.”

Baden leaned out to peer around the girl. “Christopher.” He nailed the boy with a piercing gaze. “Come away from the wall, son, and introduce yourself properly.”

Christopher moved forward to stand beside Gabe. “Merry Christmas, sir. My name is Christopher Broderick.”

The old man shifted his cane into his left hand and extended his right. “I’m Tyke Baden.” After a brief shake, Baden said, “It’s good to meet you, Christopher. Can’t recall any Brodericks around these parts, but it’s a nice solid name to add to the mix.”

Just then Gabe noticed a rather large satchel on the floor beside Baden’s chair. He got Nan’s attention and darted his eyes back and forth toward the bag. When she finally noticed it, her expression of bewilderment reflected his sentiments exactly. “Mr. Baden, how did you know we were coming?” Gabe couldn’t resist asking.

“Miriam told me,” the old man replied. “Long story, that, and I won’t feel inclined to share it until I know all of you better.”

Miriam? “Pardon me,” Gabe said, “but did you say Miriam, meaning, um, your wife?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, son?” Baden struggled up from the chair, a dilapidated thing that had clearly seen its last good day a dozen or more years ago. When the old man gained his feet, Gabe saw that he had indeed been a big man at one time, for even now, as stooped and frail as he was, he exceeded six feet in height, meeting Gabe eye-to-eye. “You heard me right. I’ve been waiting for you all day. I was starting to think you weren’t going to come and that I was all dressed up with nowhere to go.” He smiled sadly. “Isn’t right to be alone on Christmas. I’ve spent too many years by myself, and now I’m ready for good company!” He got a firm grip on the tortoiseshell handle of his cane and bent to pick up the satchel. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” He flicked his fingers to indicate that everyone should get moving. Leveling a stern gaze on Christopher, he said. “Turn the lamp off, son. No point in the place going up in flames.”

Gabe sent Nan a befuddled glance. She merely shrugged and gave a slight lift of her hands. Tyke Baden had nearly reached the door that led to the entry hall. Christopher cut a wide berth around the old man to douse the lantern that sat on a dusty bookcase.

“Look, Laney!” the boy cried. “There must be a hundred books!”

“Help yourself, if you’ve a mind,” Baden said. “I can’t read anymore. My eyes are failing. Books!” He harrumphed. “Aside from my whiskey jug, they were all I had to keep me company for years, and now I can’t even count on them to be my friends.” He hobbled past Nan, brushing against her pretty rose skirt. “You can have ’em all as far as I’m concerned, boy. Unless you’ll read aloud to me, I’ve got no further use for them.”

“Wow!” Christopher cried to Laney as he dusted off a cover. “Look, Laney, Uncle Tom’s Cabin!”

Gabe’s eyebrows rose in surprise that Christopher could apparently read.

Laney dropped to her knees before the shelf. “And Wide, Wide World and The Scarlet Letter!”

“Come along, children,” Nan said. “You can come back later to have a look at the books. Right now, it’s Christmas Eve, and we must hurry home to celebrate!”

“No hurry,” Baden warned as he traversed the length of the foyer. “My old legs don’t go fast, and I get out of breath if I try to push them.”

Gabe collected the kids, who each cradled a book in their arms. Pink tongue lolling, Jasper trotted happily between them, his canine expression conveying that he was as happy as a worm in a compost heap. He’d started out with only a girl to love; then a boy had come along, and now he had five people to scratch him behind his ears. Gabe guessed that would be almost any dog’s idea of paradise.

The twilight had deepened when they left the ramshackle house. With foreknowledge of the approaching weather, Gabe knew that a snowstorm was rolling in. He relieved Tyke of the satchel, which weighed enough to hold every stitch of clothing the old fellow owned. Even without a load to carry, Baden set a slow pace, and Gabe knew Nan was worried about their turkey.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you and the kids hurry on ahead?” he said. “That’ll give me and Mr. Baden a chance to get acquainted.”

“Are you certain?” Nan sent him a concerned look. Gabe guessed she was as bewildered by Tyke’s words as he was. “I probably should check on our supper.”

“Go,” Gabe assured her. To Christopher, he added, “Keep our ladies safe. And don’t let Jasper lift his leg on the boardwalk.”

Christopher turned to walk backward. “Soon as we get home, I’ll take him for a run.”

Gabe nodded his approval and watched his family disappear into the gloom. He set his pace to match Tyke’s. After a moment, he said, “Okay, Tyke, out with it. I’m flat flummoxed, and I don’t like that a bit. How’d you know we were coming to fetch you?”

Tyke bent his head and took his time speaking. “I don’t suppose you believe in ghosts, do you?”

A month ago, Gabe would have responded with an unequivocal no. Now he no longer felt certain about much of anything having to do with the hereafter. “I can’t rightly say. But I do know I’ve never seen a ghost.”

“Well, I never have, either, but I did smell and hear one about three weeks ago.” Tyke stopped briefly to catch his breath and then struck off again. “And even then I was drunk, so maybe I only imagined it.”

“Imagined what?” Gabe pressed.

“That my wife, Miriam, visited me.” Tyke slanted Gabe an aggrieved glance. “Ever since my family died, I’ve been . . . Well, I guess I can just tell you what Miriam called me—a slovenly drunkard. That pretty much says it all. Never washed. Wore dirty clothes. Ate food from tins that Wilson over at the general store left for me on my back stoop.”

“If you never left the house, how’d you get booze?” Gabe asked.

“Wilson brought me that, too. He’s a kindly chap. Not too bright, I don’t think, but I never hold that against a good man.”

Gabe couldn’t say that he did, either. “So you had an unending supply of whiskey.”

“And started chugging from the bottle first thing each morning, drank all day, and kept on into the evening until I passed out in my chair.” He sighed. “I’ve done that for years, Mr. . . .” His voice trailed away. “I’m sorry, but in all the introductions, I never got your name.”

“Valance, Gabriel Valance. I prefer to be called Gabe.”

“Well, Gabe—you can call me Tyke if you want—back to my story. I never touched alcohol before I lost my family. Never had the desire. But things can change in a person’s life with a shift of the wind.”

Gabe knew that to be a fact.

“Call me weak, but I only held myself together long enough to get my loved ones buried and prayed over. Then I went straight to the saloon. The next morning, I woke up under one of the tables, started drinking again as soon as I could stand up, and that’s the way it’s mostly been ever since. On the rare occasion that I sobered up, the pain of losing my family was still there, so I dived right back into a bottle to find the numbness again.”

A picture was forming in Gabe’s mind. “And one night, not long ago, Miriam paid you a visit?”

Tyke stopped again. “Sorry. All I’ve done is sit for damned near fifteen years. Talking and walking don’t mix.”

Gabe didn’t mind stopping. He figured this story might be better told out of Nan and the kids’ earshot. He hooked his thumbs over his gun belt, cocked a hip, and waited.

Tyke met Gabe’s gaze. “You a drinking man?”

“I can’t say I’ve never gotten drunk, but I’ve not made a habit of it. That doesn’t mean I can’t understand why another man might. Losing your wife and children that way, and all of a sudden . . . Well, it must have been really hard. I doubt I would have taken to the bottle, though. I’d probably be more inclined to put a bullet in my brain and get it over with fast.”

Tyke stared off into the twilight, his eyes bright with tears. “I thought about it, believe me. But my Miriam, she didn’t hold with suicide. Every time I got out my pistol, I wondered if she was up there somewhere, watching over me, and I just couldn’t do it.”

“So you tried to drink yourself to death instead.”

Tyke nodded. “I would’ve kept on trying, too, if Miriam hadn’t stopped me. I was sitting in front of the fire, just like this evening, and I was well on my way to numb. The house was quiet.” Tyke dragged in a shaky breath. “I never got used to the sound of quiet. It’s loud, you know, so loud sometimes that it hurts your ears.”

Gabe wished the old codger would get on with the story. Then Gabe could decide if it was a bunch of poppycock or not.

“Anyway, I always kept my jug on the hearth. And that night, just as I reached for it, it went flying. Hit the brick, bounced off, smacked the floor, and shattered. I thought for a second that I was so drunk I’d knocked it over. But then, so strong I couldn’t mistake it, I smelled her rosewater, and I knew my Miriam was there.”

“That’s all? You smelled rosewater?” Gabe didn’t say so, but that revelation had him leaning heavily toward saying, “Poppycock.”

“No, not at all.” Tyke’s voice had gone thin and quivery. “She spoke to me. I heard her talking, plain as I hear you. She sure didn’t like the garbage piles all over her house. She was tidy, my Miriam, and she kept that house spick-and-span. She told me it was shameful, the way I lived. Then she said I had to clean myself up and leave the whiskey alone, because you were going to come fetch me.”

“That’s all?” Gabe wondered if it wasn’t a grave mistake to take this old fellow into Nan’s home. He might be a lot more addlepated than the widows he’d complained about. “She didn’t give you my name or anything like that?”

“No, not a name,” Tyke confessed. “She only said that two angels had told a gunslinger about me, and if I’d just straighten myself up, I might have the chance to be part of a family again.” The old man searched Gabe’s gaze. “You’re wearing Colts. You are the gunslinger Miriam told me about, right?”

Gabe now knew how it felt to be emotionally numb, only he hadn’t drunk his way to the bottom of a whiskey jug to get there.

“Mr. Valance?” Tyke looked worried. “You aren’t thinking about taking me back home, are you? I’ve kind of got my mind set on not returning to that hellhole. You’ve got a nice family. I know I’m not a real relation, but I’d sure like the chance to be a grandpa.” He ran a hand over his face and blinked. “Of course, maybe that position is already filled twice over. You’ve probably got a perfectly nice father to play that role, and your wife, too.”

Still unable to collect his thoughts, Gabe took off his hat and slapped it against his leg.

“I was a good father,” Tyke said. “I truly was. With all that experience, I think I can be a damned good grandpa if you’ll give me half a chance. I won’t tell the children about Miriam visiting me, if that’s your worry. I know stories about ghosts frighten kids. Not that Miriam’s visit was scary. For me, it was the best thing that’s happened in years!”

“I, um . . .” Gabe swallowed hard, slapped his hat back on, and tipped his head to gaze at the starless sky. “I don’t have a father, and Nan’s isn’t worth having, so I’m not planning to take you back home, Tyke. Just give me a minute.” After releasing a long sigh, he said, “Angels, you say?” He lowered his chin to search Baden’s gaze. “Are you certain that’s what Miriam told you, Tyke? It’s important.”

“Oh, yes, I’m certain sure. She said two angels told you about me. I know it sounds far-fetched.” Tyke fell silent for a moment. “So just out of curiosity, Gabe, who did tell you about me?”

Gabe needed to move. “Come on, Tyke. Let’s mosey home. We’re having our big Christmas dinner tonight, and Nan’s quite the cook. We don’t want to miss out.”

After they’d resumed walking, Tyke observed, “You never answered my question. Who told you about me? If I ever get a chance, I’d like to shake his hand and tell him thank you.”

Gabe released a taut breath and laughed softly. “Don’t be in any hurry to do that, Tyke.”

“Why not?”

“Because Miriam gave it to you straight. Two angels told me about you, and in order for you to shake their hands and tell them thank you, I’m afraid you’ll have to cock up your toes.”