by Bobbi Smith
“It’s too late to see about our passage to California now, so we’ll have to get a hotel room for the night. In the morning, I’ll check with the steamship lines and find out when the next departure is for Panama.”
Lucky noticed then how tense Angel had gotten since the boat had pulled into port and how closely she watched the crowd on the levee. “What’s the matter?”
His perceptiveness surprised her, and she forced herself to relax. “Nothing. Why?” she answered him as casually as she could, but she still kept an eye out for any sign of trouble.
“You looked—oh, I don’t know—funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, like you’re worried ’bout something.”
Reasonably sure that there was no one on the landing looking for them, Angel turned a bright smile on him. “I’m not worried. I’m just nervous about making our connections. That’s all.”
Lucky accepted her explanation at face value, and they began their preparations to leave the steamer. Once in the city, they took a room at one of the better hotels and, after eating in the hotel’s dining room, they settled in for the night.
Angel didn’t know why, but a sense of disquiet filled her as she tried to rest. Troubled, she finally gave up her quest for slumber and rose from the bed to pace the room. She took great care to move quietly, for she didn’t want to disturb Lucky. He was sleeping peacefully in his own bed, looking so young and innocent that she couldn’t bear to wake him. He was totally oblivious of the deception and danger swirling around him, and she wanted it to stay that way.
As she gazed down at the boy, Angel again felt a moment of regret over having drawn him into her intrigue. But then she remembered how desperate he’d looked that first day in St. Louis and how hungry he’d been, and she knew she’d done the right thing. With her, he was clean, well-fed, and off the streets. She meant to keep him that way.
Lucky had won a place in her heart that first afternoon when she’d returned to the hotel with his clothes and found him scrubbed clean and waiting for her. He had donned his old clothes in a defensive move and stood before her, daring her to say anything. She’d been smart enough not to. Instead, she’d complimented him on his cleanliness and had merely handed him the new things she’d purchased. He hadn’t said a word, but had taken them and disappeared behind the dressing screen. Moments later, he’d reappeared looking so handsome that she’d truly been impressed and told him so. For a moment, he’d beamed, but then had guarded his expression, afraid of revealing too much to her too soon.
It had been that way ever since between them. Lucky wasn’t one to trust completely, and Angel didn’t blame him. It would take time to win him over, but she didn’t mind. Trust was something that had to be earned, and she intended to earn his.
Moving to the window, Angel stared out over the darkened city. The haunting worry that had plagued her earlier had eased a bit, and she was relieved. Feeling more in control, she returned to bed and finally slept.
Chapter Six
Meanwhile in Philadelphia ...
Michael was furious as he sat at his desk in his office. It had been two weeks since Angel and Sarah had disappeared with Christopher—two weeks of frustration and anger.
Michael swore out loud as he remembered his confrontation with Aunt Blanche the day he’d discovered they were gone. The old woman had all but thrown him out of the house when he’d come to claim Christopher and take him home. It had been then that he’d discovered that Angel and Sarah had fled with the boy. Outrage had filled him, but there’d been little he could do. He’d tried to sweet-talk Blanche, but this time she’d proven immune to his charm. There had been hatred and loathing in her eyes as she’d accused him of hurting Elizabeth.
Michael was unsure exactly what had caused Angel and Sarah to suspect him, but ultimately it didn’t matter. What mattered was that no charges had been filed with the authorities and that meant they had no solid proof of his guilt. They couldn’t prove a thing!
Michael had considered going to the law and accusing them of kidnapping but had decided it would be far wiser and more expedient to take matters into his own hands. Though they had a head start on him, he’d hired four of the best men he could find and told them to track the trio down and bring them back no matter what the expense.
“Mr. Marsden?” His clerk’s voice was accompanied by a knock at the door.
“Yes, what it is?” He looked up, wondering at the interruption.
“A telegram, sir. I thought you’d want to see it right away.” The clerk entered the room and handed him the missive.
“Thank you.”
When the man had gone, Michael quickly opened and read the contents. For the first time since Christopher had disappeared, he smiled. After a slow start, it looked like his men were finally on to something. A woman fitting Angel’s description accompanied by a small boy had left St. Louis for New Orleans and two of his men had followed her there. The remaining two men were still in St. Louis checking on other possibilities. Finally! A solid lead!
Michael felt in control once again. Soon, Christopher would be back where he belonged, and as for the women.... Sarah, he dismissed summarily, but not Angel, not his defiant little Angel. Michael leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully before him as he considered how much he was going to enjoy punishing her for her audacity in thinking she could escape him. She’d dared to defy him, but in doing so, had only increased the challenge to him to make her his own. He chuckled evilly to himself. The day was coming when she would be his in every way.
Totally confident, Michael returned his full attention to his business interests.
After a light breakfast at the hotel, Angel took Lucky back to their room and told him to stay there while she went to the shipping lines’ office to book their passage to California. She was about to enter the building when she heard the sound of men’s voices.
“The woman’s name is Windsor, though she may be using another name. I have this small portrait of her. Have you seen her? Has she been in? She’d be booking passage for at least two, maybe three people.”
Angel began to tremble. They were here! They’d almost found her! Dear God! What would have happened if she’d walked in without pausing to listen?!
“No, sir, I can’t say as how I’ve seen her. As good-looking as she is, I sure would have remembered.”
“Let me know if she comes in, will you? My name’s Brad Watkins and I’m staying at the Delta Hotel.”
“I sure will. What do you want her for, anyway? What did she do?”
“It’s a family matter,” Watkins told him in a confidential tone. “Her husband’s the one who sent me.”
“Oh.”
“There’ll be a goodly sum for you if you’re the one who brings me the information.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to keep a watch, then.”
Angel’s breath caught in her throat as she listened to the man who was hunting her. She wished she could see him, but there was no way she could look into the office without being seen herself. Carefully, she retreated from the doorway and hurried back the way she’d come. There were some shops ahead, and she knew she could dart inside and watch for him. She would get a glimpse or better and know exactly what he looked like.
Angel entered the first store she came to. It was a fabric emporium, and she browsed near the window until she saw Michael’s man, Watkins, emerge from the office. Of average height and build, he had sandy hair and a mustache and didn’t appear dangerous. But Angel knew looks could be deceiving, and he was wearing a gun.
Angel realized she was going to have to act quickly. If Michael’s men found her now, they’d discover right away that Lucky was not Christopher and know to look elsewhere; and her sister hadn’t had the time she needed yet to make her escape.
Watching through the window, Angel waited until Watkins had sauntered toward the levee before drawing a deep breath. As the tension drained out of her, her knees almost buckled in rel
ief. She remained in the store a moment longer, regrouping, trying to think straight. Just because she’d eluded him this time, didn’t mean her luck would hold. He was actively searching for her; and, since he was checking all the shipping offices, there was no way they could continue with their plan to sail to California. She had to find another way to get there, and she had no time to lose.
“Can I help you with anything today, miss?” the proprietor inquired, approaching her.
“No, thank you. I’m just looking.” Angel managed a weak smile and left.
Outside, she fell into step behind two middle-aged ladies as she made her way back to the hotel. She didn’t pay attention to their conversation as they moved in front of her until one of them began to whisper in hushed, excited tones.
“Look, Thelma! That’s him!” One woman elbowed the other, indicating without subtlety a man walking down the other side of the street.
“That’s who, Rose?” the heavy-set Thelma asked.
“Blade Masters, you idiot!” Rose whispered as she grabbed her friend’s arm and slowed her pace so they could get a better look at the black-haired, unshaven, dangerous-looking man opposite them.
“Blade Masters—the gunfighter?” she gasped, her eyes widening.
“The same! I know, because Warren pointed him out to me last night at dinner. Can you imagine? He was actually dining at the St. Louis Hotel.”
Thelma’s gaze turned even more avid. “He certainly looks the part. Is he really as fast with his gun as they say?”
“From what I hear, they’ve lost count of the number of men he’s killed.”
Thelma shivered at the thought. “He’s a half-breed, isn’t he?”
“Yes. His mother was an Indian, but other than that no one seems to know much else about him. The only story I heard was that he avenged some wrong to his family when he was just a boy, and supposedly he’s been making his living as a hired gun ever since.”
“How exciting!”
“Thelma! I’m shocked!” Rose gave her friend a surprised look.
“Oh, Rose, you know you’re just as curious about him as I am. At least, I’ve got enough nerve to admit it. You just hide your interest behind gossip.”
Rose was pensive for a moment as she considered her friend’s critical words, then confessed, “You’re right, but I’ll never admit that to anyone else. He was one handsome man, though, in a devilish sort of way, wasn’t he?”
Thelma giggled in a schoolgirlish sort of way as she answered, “Yes.”
The rest of their conversation drifted off as they turned into a shop. They’d been completely unaware of Angel behind them.
Angel hadn’t meant to listen, but their gossip had intrigued her. Curious, she’d glanced at the man and had been mesmerized by the sight of him, unable to look away. Rose had been right—he was devilishly handsome . . . tall, lean, and darkly tan. His hair was as black as a raven’s wing, and he wore his gun as if it were a part of him. There was an aura of confidence and power in the way he carried himself and in the way he moved. He looked like a man in complete control, a man who had faced his worst fears and defeated them.
Angel thought about what the women had said about his prowess with a gun, and she wondered how brave Michael would be if he had to do battle with a man like Masters. The thought made her smile, but her smile faded quickly as the reality of her situation returned. She had no time to think about gunfighters. The only thing she had time for was figuring out a new way to California—and she had to come up with it fast.
After passing a sleepless night, Blade had left the jail with repeated instructions from the sheriff that he be out of New Orleans by the following day. The prospect suited him just fine, but first he had to have his meeting with Clancy Barrett. After that, he would be more than happy to oblige.
Blade was in less than a pleasant temperament as he headed back to his hotel. He was aware that some people were staring at him as he made his way down the streets, but he paid no attention to their interest. All he cared about was getting back to his room so he could get cleaned up and rest. No matter how clean a jail cell was, Blade always felt dirty after spending time in one. When he arrived at the hotel to find that Clancy had sent a note requesting he join him that evening for dinner at the St. Charles Hotel, his humor vastly improved. Blade went up to his room, eager for the day to pass.
When Angel and Lucky came down to the hotel dining room to eat that evening, she deliberately requested an out-of-the-way table. She knew Watkins could show up at any time, and she wanted to stay out of sight as much as possible. They were given a table near the back of the room, and that pleased her greatly. There was only one other guest nearby, a gray-haired, heavy-set man who looked about fifty, and he was definitely not Watkins. Angel felt relatively safe as they settled down to eat.
They were about half-way through their meal and involved in a deep discussion about the merits of Lucky’s method of eating peas with his fingers when Angel stopped in mid-sentence. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a man standing at the entrance to the dining room, looking around for someone. For a moment she feared it might be one of Michael’s men, but when she glanced in that direction she was surprised to find that the man was Blade Masters.
The gunfighter was clean-shaven and attractively dressed now, and Angel found him even more appealing than she had earlier that day. The dark material of his coat fit his wide shoulders flawlessly, and the white of his shirt emphasized his tan. His trousers clung to his long, muscular legs like a second skin. His was a commanding figure, and the rugged arrogance of his features fascinated her. She allowed herself the pleasure of looking at him until his searching gaze fell upon her and he started to move in her direction.
Panic filled Angel. Why would Blade Masters be coming toward her? She knew Watkins was after them, but had Michael somehow managed to hire Masters, too? Was he coming for them now? She was like a moth before a flame. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him as he drew ever nearer, and yet she knew that she should probably grab Lucky and run from the room as fast as she could.
Lucky noticed her distraction and looked over his shoulder to see Blade coming their way. “Who’s that?”
“What?” she responded distractedly, her eyes still on the gunfighter, her mind racing to find possible ways to escape. Every step brought him closer and took her nearer to fleeing the restaurant in blind fear.
“Who is he?” he repeated. “Why are you starin’ at him?”
At his words, Angel finally dragged her gaze away. She kept her voice down as she remarked, “You’re absolutely right, it’s impolite to stare.”
Masters was heading on a collision course with them, and Angel clasped her hands in her lap as she tried desperately to think of how to get away. Finally, when he was closing on the table, she decided to brazen it out. She raised her gaze in challenge and looked him straight in the eye.
Angel didn’t know what she expected would happen, but she found herself breathless when her emerald gaze collided with and was held captive by Blade’s silver one. She could only stare at him, entranced, as he continued to approach.
“So, I’ve finally caught up with you!”
His deep voice sent terror surging through Angel. She felt hot and cold. The end was here. She’d failed.... Michael had won.
As quickly as the panic seized Angel, it was gone. Blade strode past their table, his gaze locked on the older, heavy-set gentleman sitting alone in the back of the dining room.
“Blade! It’s great to see you!” The man rose to greet him. “I was glad to get your message.”
Profound relief flooded through Angel. They were safe. They were safe.
“Who is he?” Lucky persisted. “Do you know him?”
“No. I don’t know him,” she answered, composed once again and wondering why she’d let her imagination run away with her. “Now, about your peas . . .”
“Yeah, peas. I hate ’em.” The boy scowled.
She
shot him an exasperated look. “They’re good for you.”
“They’re green,” he declared firmly as if no one had ever noticed before. “I make it a point not to eat anything green.”
“Eat or no dessert,” she blackmailed, indulging her own appetite as she turned her attention back to her meal.
Lucky was chafing under yet another restriction. “I don’t really have to do anything you say.”
“If you want to get paid you do,” Angel countered cooly, not the least bit put-off by his show of defiance.
He glared at her but then, thinking of the money involved, decided against further protest and downed the offending vegetables.
Blade clasped Clancy’s hand and settled into the chair opposite him at the table. He was glad Clancy was already there, for he was eager to talk to his old friend and make his offer for his ranch. Blade had noticed the pretty blonde woman sitting with the young boy at a table nearby as he’d crossed the room to join Clancy. She looked a little young to have a son his age, but she had the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen; and, had he not been so intent on business, he might have been tempted to speak to her. As it was, he had a ranch to buy and that was more important. Women could wait.
“I was beginning to think I was going to miss you here in New Orleans.”
“No, I’ll be in town for the rest of the month.”
They settled in and ordered, then spent time renewing their friendship. As Clancy polished off his second helping of the fancy dessert, Blade turned the conversation to his reason for being there. He made his offer to buy the Rocking B, then fell silent, waiting anxiously for his reply.
“Blade, I’m sorry,” Clancy replied with an earnestness he truly felt. “I appreciate your offer. I know you’re a man of your word and that you’d eventually pay off the balance you’d owe me, but my circumstances are such that I must have the full amount up front.”
“I see.” Though Blade had saved a substantial amount for a down payment, he was still $5,000 short of Clancy’s asking price. His dream of settling in Texas was shattered.
