Bradford did not answer immediately. He was trying hard to keep his raging temper in check. When he finally spoke, he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.
“I last saw Miss Sherrington in Nacogdoches, but I have reason to believe you will be able to find her at the JB ranch. She will undoubtedly be there with her current lover, my foreman, Grant Marlowe.”
Jim was speechless. Miss Sherrington and Bradford had seemed quite attached not long ago. That was shocking in itself because he knew of Bradford’s engagement to Candise Taylor.
“Here are the papers I spoke of earlier,” Jim said, coming around the desk to hand them to Bradford. “There is also a personal letter from your father that he asked me to give you after the will was read. I will leave you alone to read it. We will see each other again before you leave, I’m sure.”
Bradford waited until Jim had left the room before he opened his father’s letter. He read it slowly, the words on each page jumping up at him like little demons. It was impossible that his father could be asking him to do the one thing he could never do. It was also hypocritical of him. He always said he would not force his wishes on his children.
Now Bradford had a deeper sorrow to bear, for he would not, he could not possibly fulfill his father’s last wish. Jacob was asking too much.
This room where his father had spent so much time over the past twenty-two years seemed to hold Jacob’s presence. Bradford stared fixedly at the desk and the empty chair behind it—empty. Uncaring, his control dissolved and a tear slid down his cheek, followed by another.
It was a long time before Bradford left the study.
Chapter 36
Under the torrid western sun, the stagecoach bounced along the hard dirt, each bump hitting the passengers harder than the one before. The cramped interior was stifling, the journey apparently endless.
The passengers, all strangers, seemed content to remain that way, except for one inordinately cheerful woman who was traveling with her husband, an austere-looking minister who was sound asleep beside her. The middle-aged woman, who introduced herself as Aggie Bauer, was plump and dressed in heavy black traveling clothes. She seemed not to mind the oppressive heat, the jolting ride, or the fact that nobody spoke to her.
Mrs. Bauer’s ceaseless chattering went unheeded as she explained the best way to grow a garden in this arid land. Angela listened with only half of her mind, while the other half wondered where her journey would end, if it ever did.
After saying her final good-bye to Grant Marlowe, she had gone on to Crockett, and then to Midway, staying a week in each one, asking questions and learning absolutely nothing. She would reach another town tomorrow morning, but would it be any different there? Was there really any hope of finding her mother? Twenty years was a long time. Her mother might have married and changed her name, or gone on to California or Mexico. And there was always the dread possibility that Charissa Sherrington was dead.
The man on Angela’s left made her quite nervous, a gun strapped to his leg pressing against her skirt. She had seen many such men recently. Would she ever get used to them? They were called gunmen or cowboys, these dangerous-looking men who openly sported guns and engaged in brawls.
Angela had seen one such fight in the middle of town on the open street. It wasn’t a traditional duel of the civilized South. Instead of the opponents walking away from one another to turn at the count of ten, two men approached each other slowly, until one man found the nerve to draw his gun. No doubt the man next to Angela had killed many men in gunfights.
The young woman on Angela’s right was Spanish with a white lace mantilla draped over her head and shoulders. Her traveling companion, sitting across from her next to the minister’s wife, was a tall, fierce-looking woman with a thin frame.
Angela stared at the chaperon now in puzzlement, watching the older woman’s face turn white as she stared out of the window. Suddenly the coach pulled up.
“Well, why on earth are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?” Mrs. Bauer asked, leaning over her husband to glance out the window. Gasping, she exclaimed in a frightened voice, “It’s a holdup! Good Lord, we’re going to be robbed!”
“Calm down, now. Calm down,” the minister spoke firmly, fully awake now. He stared solemnly at the other passengers. “You’d best hide your valuables if you want to keep them.”
“We’ll be lucky if we keep our lives!” his wife screamed.
She turned to the man beside Angela and demanded, “Why don’t you do something? You have a gun—use it!”
He shook his head. “I ain’t no fool, ma’am. The driver chose to give up without a fight, so I suggest we do the same thing.”
At that moment the door was flung open and a stocky man with a bandanna over the lower half of his face stuck his head inside. He pointed his gun at each of the passengers in turn.
“You—with the gun. Toss it out the window,” the bandit ordered, and the man beside Angela did so without hesitating. “Now all of you step outside, and line up beside the coach.”
“You there, get down,” another man called from outside, and the coach moved slightly as the driver got down from his box.
There were five robbers. Four of them were still sitting on their horses, their weapons drawn and leveled at the passengers. The fifth man, the one who had ordered them all outside, was presently throwing down the trunks and baggage from the top and back of the coach. Then another man dismounted and came forward, putting his gun away as he did so.
The young man who stood before them, hands on his hips, was quite tall, lean, with broad shoulders. Black hair escaped below his wide-brimmed hat, but he was cleanshaven. His gray eyes, oddly, held a touch of humor.
“Your luggage no doubt, holds much of value, but your persons must also be searched,” the man said now. His voice carried a slight accent, either Spanish or Mexican. “You will save time and trouble if you will cooperate.”
The minister’s wife broke into hysterics, clinging to her husband. Angela steeled herself as the young bandit began searching the driver, going slowly through the poor man’s pockets. Producing only a few coins, he put them into a small sack hooked to his belt. Then he moved on to the gunman, and then the minister.
The bandit turned to the women, and his eyes crinkled, as if he were grinning. He went to the Spanish women first, and spoke sharply to the duenna in her own language. The older woman answered harshly and shielded her young ward with her arms. The young man laughed at this, but pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at the woman, who turned pale and stood rigid. The bandit ran his free hand over the woman’s skirt, inspecting the hem of her dress for hidden money. He then spoke to her again, causing her to shriek. The bandit laughed again and shrugged, then swiftly ripped open the woman’s bodice and stuck his hand inside for his final, humiliating search. It produced two gold rings and a locket.
The minister’s wife fainted, and the duenna began pounding on the bandit’s back as he moved toward her ward.
Angela nervously moved her hand into the pocket of her skirt and grasped the small derringer strapped to her thigh. The young bandit had moved on to Aggie Bauer, who lay unconscious, having fainted against the large coach wheel. As his wife’s bodice was opened and searched, the minister turned away, thankful that his wife was unaware.
Angela stiffened as the young man approached her. He stared for a long moment at her face and his eyes crinkled again. She might have mistaken him for Bradford, for he was built similarly and had the same wavy black hair.
“You will find nothing of worth on my person.” She tried to sound calm, though fear and anger were tearing at her. “Everything I own is in my trunks.”
“We shall see,” he said.
He began to search the pockets of her light jacket, then inspected the hem of her jacket and also the hem of her skirt. She stood still for this, but when he stood up to face her again, the furious look in her eyes made him hesitate.
“You will not be troubleso
me now, señorita. As I explained to the other ladies, what I must do now is necessary.”
“But I told you I have nothing of value on me!” Angela returned in a loud voice.
“I must see for myself,” he replied, and started to unbutton her bodice.
“You touch me and I will kill you.” She said it slowly, almost in a whisper.
He noticed the bulge at the side of her skirt and his eyes narrowed. “Yes, I believe you would, señorita. But if you do this, then my friends will shoot you. Are you prepared to die at such a young age, for such a small thing?”
Angela’s courage left her and it showed in her eyes.
“Come now, menina.” The man spoke softly so that only she could hear. “It will be over with quickly—it will not be so bad. And I will even leave you your little weapon.”
Angela closed her eyes and let him continue to unbutton her bodice. When she opened her eyes, she found that he was holding her gold coin in his hand.
“You lied, señorita.”
“I did not lie. The coin has no value. You can see there’s a hole in it. Please,” she whispered, her eyes pleading, “don’t take it.”
“It must have value, or you would not want to keep it,” he replied, turning the coin over in his hand.
“It has value only to me!” she cried, and jerked the coin out of his hand.
He shrugged and his eyes crinkled again. “Well, let us see what other treasures you have hidden.”
He unfastened two more buttons, then slipped his hand inside her bodice. Angela’s face brightened with humiliation when his fingers moved slowly under each breast.
She gasped and, without thinking, slapped the man’s face. His eyes turned dark. Before she had a chance to regret the impulse, he grabbed her about the waist with one arm and pulled her to him. In the next instant he raised his bandanna and kissed her, then released her just as quickly and covered his face again.
“I have found much of value, señorita,” he said in a quiet voice, his face close to hers. “Were there not the danger of someone coming this way, then I would stay to explore your other treasures.”
Angela fumed with outrage. “You—you—”
“Bandit? Outlaw?” he interrupted with an amused chuckle. “Yes, I am. And since I always do a thorough job, I will take this,” he added, yanking the coin from her neck. “To remember you by, violet eyes.”
She started to plead again, then understood, looking at him, that there was no point. She watched with a terrible sense of loss as he turned from her and mounted his horse.
Everything she owned was gone. All her clothes and jewels and money, and the precious coin from Bradford.
She knew it was ridiculous, but the coin meant more to her than everything else.
Chapter 37
ANGELA sat across from the sheriff’s desk, close to tears. “But everything I owned was in my luggage— my jewels, my money!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Sherrington, but there’s nothing we can do. Perhaps you have relatives you can send word to,” Sheriff Thornton offered.
Angela stared hopelessly at the floor. “There is only my mother,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“Then there’s no problem, ma’am. We’ll just get in touch with your mother and—”
“I wish that were possible, sheriff,” Angela interrupted him. “But you see, I don’t know where my mother is. That’s why I came to Texas—to find her.”
Sheriff Thornton shook his head. “I guess you’ll be needing a job then. The restaurant at the hotel needs a waitress. If you’ve had schooling, I might be able to get you a job at the bank. Then once you have a job, I’ll talk to Ella about giving you a room at her boardinghouse on credit. Maybe you can save enough to get you where you want to go.”
“I don’t know, Sheriff Thornton,” Angela said, “but I do appreciate your help.”
Angela walked slowly down the hall to her room at Ella Crain’s boardinghouse. It was a comfortable room, with homemade furnishings, and a large double bed that she could lose herself in each night.
Two weeks in this small town seemed like two years. The other passengers had all been able to draw money from the bank where she now worked, and had gone their ways. How long would she be stuck here? She had thought briefly of sending word to Jacob, to ask him for money. But then she thought better of it. No good could come of it. Even though Jacob loved her, he was obviously ashamed of her. Otherwise he would have acknowledged her as his daughter.
Angela opened the door to her room and then shut it slowly. She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. What did she have to look forward to? Only dinner in the large dining room downstairs. And then back to her room and a restless sleep. When would it be different? Would she stay in this small, dreary town for the rest of her life?
A slight noise made her open her eyes and glance around. She gasped when she saw the man sprawled on her bed.
“Who are you?” she cried as her hand slipped into her pocket to grasp the derringer. “What are you doing in my room?”
The stranger leaned over on an elbow to face her, a wide grin forming on his lips. “You would not shoot me, señorita, when I have come here to do you a service?”
“How do you know I have a gun? And—” Angela stopped short and her eyes widened. “You! It is you! How dare you!”
“Ah, I dare much, señorita. But as I said, I came to do you a service,” he answered easily, and sat up on the edge of the bed, his dark gray eyes studying her intently.
Angela stayed where she was, one hand on the doorknob, her other hand holding her gun. “What service do you speak of?”
“You are not frightened of me, eh?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“Why should I be?” she returned tartly, her chin tilted up. “Your friends are not here to protect you now.” As she spoke, she quickly glanced around the room to make sure she was right. She looked back at him with confidence and added, “Before you could draw that gun strapped to your leg, I would shoot you. Don’t doubt it.”
“I do not doubt it,” he said casually. “But relax. I mean you no harm.”
“I could shoot you just for being in my room. And believe me, the prospect is quite tempting after what you’ve done! And I would be justified,” she warned. “There are wanted posters out on you, you know.”
“Yes, I have seen them,” he said with a shrug of his wide shoulders, and stood up to light the candle by the bed. “You described me quite well.”
“How—what makes you think I gave the description?” she asked in surprise.
He stood by the bedside table and faced her, a smile playing on his supple lips. “The others did not look at me as you did. They were not aware of me as you were.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He laughed then. “Of course you do, menina. To you I was not just a bandit, but a man. And to me, you were not just another victim, but a woman, and such a beautiful woman.”
Angela’s face burned as she remembered how he had touched her. “Get out of here before I scream for help and have you arrested! Or better yet, I will shoot you!”
He took a few steps toward her. “You would do that to me after I have risked coming here to return your jewels?”
“My jewels?” She looked at him in complete bewilderment.
“Why not put away your little weapon and come away from the door, señorita? I promise not to surprise you with any tricks.” When she stayed rooted to the spot, he chuckled. “You still do not trust me, eh? Look on your dresser, menina, and you will see your box of jewels there.”
Angela turned her eyes away from him gradually and saw her black velvet jewel box. She forgot about him completely in her haste to inspect the box. She laid her gun down on the dresser and opened the lid gently. Everything was there, all her beautiful jewels, and the three settings from Bradford—everything except her gold coin.
“This is an amusing toy, señorita.”
>
Angela turned around quickly to find the outlaw standing close to her, examining her derringer. She gasped, realizing how stupid she had been. She was defenseless now and she watched with wide eyes as he slipped the gun in his pocket. She started to scream, but he grabbed her swiftly and covered her mouth with his hand.
“You must trust me, menina, for you have no choice. If you scream, you will bring help, of course. But you will not like what happens. You have your jewels now. They will not believe that an outlaw would return loot out of the goodness of his heart. No, they will think you are my accomplice—for that is what I will tell them.”
When he lowered his hand from her mouth, she didn’t scream, but glared at him accusingly. “Why did you return the jewels?” she asked coldly.
“Why not?”
“But you could have pawned them for money!”
He shrugged, still holding her with one arm. “It is too risky to exchange objects of value for money—too easy to be traced. No, we usually give jewels and the like to our lady friends, in return for—ah, favors.”
Angela jerked out of his hold and walked away from him. “Is that what you want from me, a favor?”
“And if I asked one of you, would you grant it?”
Angela swung around to face him, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing angrily. “No!” she replied sharply. “And where is my gold coin? It’s not with the other jewels.”
He looked puzzled. “But I left it behind, in the pocket of a green jacket. You did not find it yet?”
“No—I—”
She ran for her wardrobe without saying any more. Quickly she found the coin and held it tightly in the palm of her hand. All her anger left her. She turned around, ready to express her thanks, but stopped when she found him only inches from her. He rested his hands on the wardrobe, one arm on each side of her, effectively pinning her there.
Glorious Angel Page 18
