Read Online Walking on Air by Catherine Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Anderson
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different faces.”
“I’m not following.”
Gabriel smiled. “You needn’t understand everything, Gabe. That is the Creator’s job. Let me just say that it saddens Him to throw any of His children on the scrap pile. In other words, it isn’t so much about
what
you believe but how well you live your life and how kindly you treat others. There are many people born into families or in distant places who are taught other truths. Would you condemn someone for believing what he’d been taught from birth?”
“Of course not. How would that be fair? You might not think I’m a man with much heart, but I’d never punish somebody for living his life the way he believed was right, as long as he harmed nobody else.”
“Ah. Nicely put, Gabe, and I think you’ve just answered your own question.”
“Okay, okay.” Gabe frowned, trying to take it all in. Once, as a kid, he’d been cornered by a preacher who’d told him that he had to believe in Jesus in order to be saved. “So people of all faiths can go to heaven. I get that. But what about people like me, who don’t really believe in much of anything?”
The angel gave Gabe a warm look. “As we said, you are a difficult case.”
“And why did you choose a shack for me?”
“Well,” the angel said slowly, “after considering all the places you seemed to feel most at home, we decided none was really suitable.”
“Meaning saloons, brothels, and livery stables?”
“And at places you camped along the trail,” Gabriel added. “In the end, it was Michael who decided on a shack. Take no offense, Gabe, but you aren’t a man who seems fond of finery.”
Gabe sighed, and with the release of breath, some of his tension left. “Just for the record, if I succeed at my mission here, my idea of heaven is being surrounded by great horses and faithful dogs.” After considering for a second, Gabe tacked on, “And a few beautiful women wouldn’t hurt.”
Again, Gabriel chuckled. “Duly noted. But for the moment, you must focus on only one beautiful woman, Nan Hoffman.”
Gabe nodded. “You guys can’t count any too well, you know. You gave me a month, and at one point you mentioned thirty days. Or maybe that was me. Anyhow, this is the twenty-fourth of November, and if I die a second time on Christmas, that’ll technically be a month and one day.”
“We made an exception. Tomorrow is a holiday, so the telegraph office will be closed, and you need to contact the . . .” The angel frowned. “I forget the organization’s name, but it is renowned for its detectives.”
“The Pinkerton Agency?” Gabe suggested.
“Ah, yes, that’s it. You must wire the Pinkerton Agency as soon as possible to get an investigation of Nan’s past under way.”
“Why?” Gabe asked.
“Because as soon as you feel that you no longer need to use the murder charge as leverage against Nan, you should tell her that Horace Barclay survived being impaled by her knitting needle. She will be far more likely to believe you, which will allay her fears once and for all, if you offer documented proof—in this case, a report from a Pinkerton agent.”
That made sense to Gabe. “Even if I pay extra to expedite an investigation, it may take a while to get a report mailed to me.”
“Which is why you should initiate the process today. It would also be wise to marry Nan today. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until Monday, and time is of the essence.”
The angel vanished. Gabe blinked and stifled a few choice epithets. “Wait a minute! Marry her today? I’ve never even met the woman! How the hell am I going to make that happen?”
Gabe heard a smile in Gabriel’s voice when he replied, “You’re a poker player. Create a winning hand with the cards you’ve been dealt.”
“Well, pardon me for pointing it out, but the deck is stacked against me!”
No answer. Gabe tipped his head, listened. When he determined that the angel had left, he whispered, “Asshole. Coming and
“I’m not following.”
Gabriel smiled. “You needn’t understand everything, Gabe. That is the Creator’s job. Let me just say that it saddens Him to throw any of His children on the scrap pile. In other words, it isn’t so much about
what
you believe but how well you live your life and how kindly you treat others. There are many people born into families or in distant places who are taught other truths. Would you condemn someone for believing what he’d been taught from birth?”
“Of course not. How would that be fair? You might not think I’m a man with much heart, but I’d never punish somebody for living his life the way he believed was right, as long as he harmed nobody else.”
“Ah. Nicely put, Gabe, and I think you’ve just answered your own question.”
“Okay, okay.” Gabe frowned, trying to take it all in. Once, as a kid, he’d been cornered by a preacher who’d told him that he had to believe in Jesus in order to be saved. “So people of all faiths can go to heaven. I get that. But what about people like me, who don’t really believe in much of anything?”
The angel gave Gabe a warm look. “As we said, you are a difficult case.”
“And why did you choose a shack for me?”
“Well,” the angel said slowly, “after considering all the places you seemed to feel most at home, we decided none was really suitable.”
“Meaning saloons, brothels, and livery stables?”
“And at places you camped along the trail,” Gabriel added. “In the end, it was Michael who decided on a shack. Take no offense, Gabe, but you aren’t a man who seems fond of finery.”
Gabe sighed, and with the release of breath, some of his tension left. “Just for the record, if I succeed at my mission here, my idea of heaven is being surrounded by great horses and faithful dogs.” After considering for a second, Gabe tacked on, “And a few beautiful women wouldn’t hurt.”
Again, Gabriel chuckled. “Duly noted. But for the moment, you must focus on only one beautiful woman, Nan Hoffman.”
Gabe nodded. “You guys can’t count any too well, you know. You gave me a month, and at one point you mentioned thirty days. Or maybe that was me. Anyhow, this is the twenty-fourth of November, and if I die a second time on Christmas, that’ll technically be a month and one day.”
“We made an exception. Tomorrow is a holiday, so the telegraph office will be closed, and you need to contact the . . .” The angel frowned. “I forget the organization’s name, but it is renowned for its detectives.”
“The Pinkerton Agency?” Gabe suggested.
“Ah, yes, that’s it. You must wire the Pinkerton Agency as soon as possible to get an investigation of Nan’s past under way.”
“Why?” Gabe asked.
“Because as soon as you feel that you no longer need to use the murder charge as leverage against Nan, you should tell her that Horace Barclay survived being impaled by her knitting needle. She will be far more likely to believe you, which will allay her fears once and for all, if you offer documented proof—in this case, a report from a Pinkerton agent.”
That made sense to Gabe. “Even if I pay extra to expedite an investigation, it may take a while to get a report mailed to me.”
“Which is why you should initiate the process today. It would also be wise to marry Nan today. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until Monday, and time is of the essence.”
The angel vanished. Gabe blinked and stifled a few choice epithets. “Wait a minute! Marry her today? I’ve never even met the woman! How the hell am I going to make that happen?”
Gabe heard a smile in Gabriel’s voice when he replied, “You’re a poker player. Create a winning hand with the cards you’ve been dealt.”
“Well, pardon me for pointing it out, but the deck is stacked against me!”
No answer. Gabe tipped his head, listened. When he determined that the angel had left, he whispered, “Asshole. Coming and
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