Angel in My Arms by Colleen Faulkner Read Free Book Online Page B

brutally, so senselessly, made her want to scream in
rage. It made her want to hit something… someone. It made her want to
hug someone.
    "That where it happened?" Fox asked as they passed the double swinging doors blocked by two of Sheriff Tate's burly deputies.
    "Poor girl," Kate muttered. "I always told Sal he wasn't careful
enough about who he let pass through his place. He don't keep a close
enough eye on his girls. It's not right, just not right," she muttered.
    Celeste wrapped her arm around Kate and patted her, comforting her
as though she were a child. There had certainly been many a night Kate
had done the same for her. Celeste couldn't help poor Margaret, but she
could help Kate by consoling her. She could help Kate's girls by
calming their fears. "I know, I know, but Sal can't be blamed. It's
nobody's fault," she told her friend.
    Halfway between Sal's and Kate's they passed Joash Tuttle, his black
felt hat pulled low over his ears, his old Bible cradled in his arms.
    Celeste nodded to Joash as they passed. He tipped his hat, mumbling as he passed her, reciting a prayer, probably.
    No doubt he was headed for Sal's to give some Protestant form of
last rites. Celeste didn't envy Joash having to see Margaret's body.
Despite his constant warnings of what fate sinners met, she knew it
must upset Joash to see one human being butchered by another. She mused
how hard it must be for him to keep his faith through such incidents.
    They reached Kate's and passed the front door used by customers that
led to the dance hall's central room, turning instead at the end of the
red, white, and blue painted false front and down the alley that ran
alongside the frame building. Mud splashed up on her gown. She didn't
care. What mattered was getting Kate inside, getting her warm.
    Fox looked uneasy as the alley narrowed. "This isn't a good idea, Celeste. Not with a killer on the loose."
    "Here's the door," she said. "See, we're here." She didn't want to
admit to Fox that she didn't want him to see the dance hall with its
nude women painted on the whitewashed walls, or the stage where she'd
danced half-naked. She didn't even want to admit it to herself.
    It looked like he was going to protest again, but then realized Celeste was bound and determined to get Kate home.
    "See," she said. "This is the private entrance, where Kate lives."
    Celeste turned the doorknob on the back door, but it was locked. She
banged with her fist. The ruffled red curtain on the window parted and
she saw Ace's face peering out. She didn't say anything because Ace
couldn't hear and couldn't speak, but he could read lips. "Let us in,"
she mouthed.
    Ace immediately opened the door. Ace was an orphan, of sorts,
adopted by Kate because no one wanted a half-breed Indian who couldn't
speak. He cleaned for Kate, kept bar in the days when the dance hall
had been busy. Now mostly he hauled wood, scrubbed floors, and played
cards. In many ways he was much like the girls Kate hired. They all
worked for her and in return she fed them, clothed them, hugged them
when they needed it, lacing it all with a cold splash of reality.
    Ace slammed the door behind them, making an event of turning the
lock as Celeste, Kate, and Fox stepped into the kitchen. His face and
hands were freshly scrubbed, his black hair slicked back, still wet. He
must have just risen. At Kate's they stayed up late into the night and
slept late into the morning. Celeste noticed Ace's rifle leaning
against the wall.
    "Let me take off your cape," Celeste said to Kate, then touched
Ace's sleeve to get his attention. "Stoke the fire," she said so that
he could read her lips. "Kate's wet and cold."
    Ace nodded and hurried to do her bidding. He was a great lumbering
man with big feet, broad hands, a mane of long black hair, and coal
black, hooded eyes. Ace wasn't smart, but he was caring and fiercely
loyal to Kate, who had taken him in when he was only nine or ten. He'd
been with Kate when Celeste met her in Denver