Glorious Angel

by Johanna Lindsey

  Bradford wiped the blood from his mouth. “You should have thought of a better story than that, Grant. I’m not buying it,” he said before knocking Grant off him with a blow to the chin.

  The fight was unmatched. Grant was stronger, and had been badly provoked. When it was over, Bradford didn’t even have the strength to get up. Grant stood over him, his face bleeding some, though not nearly as badly as Bradford’s was bleeding.

  “I’m not gonna take this personally, Brad, since I know it was your fool jealousy that brought it on. But you’ve got nothin‘ to be jealous about, or ever did have. So I asked Angela to marry me. Why the hell shouldn’t I? She’s a damn beautiful woman.”

  Bradford turned over and raised himself gently on one elbow, groaning. He spit the blood from his mouth, then glared up at Grant through eyes already beginning to swell.

  “Is that how you enticed her to your bed? With a proposal of marriage?”

  “What the hell are you talkin‘ about?” Grant shouted, losing his temper all over again. “I’ve never taken Angela to bed. She’s a lady and she deserves better than what you’re accusin’ her of.” Grant started to walk away, then stopped. “We been friends a long time, Brad. Once you start thinkin‘ straight, we’ll be friends again. Now, if you want to fire me over this—fine. Otherwise, I’ll take this herd to Kansas as we agreed. What do you say?”

  “I told you once I wouldn’t fire you over a woman.”

  “So you did.” Grant grinned and offered Bradford his hand. “Let me help you back to camp. Your cuts need lookin‘ after.”

  Chapter 46

  THE afternoon was cold, with dark purple clouds approaching from the north. Angela looked out her bedroom window and frowned.

  “It’s going to rain before night. I hope I can make it to town before it does.”

  “Are you sure I can’t change your mind, Angela?” Mary Lou asked.

  Angela turned away from the window with a sigh and gazed at her friend sitting in the rocker in the corner. “No. But I’m glad you stopped over. You saved me a trip out to your place.”

  “Can’t you at least wait till they get back?” Mary Lou tried again, deep concern in her voice.

  “I hope to be in Europe by the time Bradford returns.”

  “You ought to think about it some more, honey. You know you love him. Give him a chance.”

  Angela moved to the bed to finish packing. “He won’t change, Mary Lou. And he won’t listen to reason. You don’t know how hard it’s been, living here with him, knowing he hates me.”

  “You’re mistaking jealousy for hate,” Mary Lou said emphatically.

  “It hurts too much to stay.”

  “He can’t stay mad forever.”

  “Yes he can,” Angela returned.

  “I still say you’re bein‘ too hasty,” Mary Lou ventured once again. “Give him time.”

  “I’m not strong enough,” Angela said, feeling tears begin. “I’ve been hurt too much already. And he’ll only go on hurting me. Besides, there is—something I never told you about Bradford. He’s a married man.”

  “Married!” Mary Lou exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”

  Angela sighed. “He claimed he was married, then never brought it up again.”

  “Angela,” Mary Lou said urgently, “you don’t really want to go, do you?”

  “No,” Angela smiled. “I’ve grown to love it here, the land and the people. I’ll miss Texas. But I have to leave.”

  Just then they heard a rider approaching. “Is someone coming to meet you?” Angela asked her friend.

  “No.”

  “Then who could that be?” Angela’s curiosity was aroused as she walked to the window.

  “That’s Decker, a boy who runs errands in town,” Mary Lou said from behind Angela. “I wonder what he wants.”

  The knock sounded before Angela reached the front door. A slim boy stood on the porch. He was holding an envelope.

  “A telegram came for Mr. Maitland, ma’am,” Decker said.

  “Mr. Maitland isn’t here, Decker,” Angela replied.

  Decker grinned. “The telegraph operator knows that, ma’am. But he didn’t know what else to do with this, so he had me bring it on out here.”

  Mary Lou came to the door and handed Decker a coin. “Here, Decker. Miss Sherrington will see that Mr. Maitland gets the message.” Mary Lou took the telegram and closed the door.

  “Why did you do that?” Angela asked.

  Mary Lou held the envelope up and inspected it. “Aren’t you even curious?”

  “Why should I be?”

  “But you’re going to open it.”

  “Of course not. It’s for Bradford, not for me.”

  “Honey, you’re Bradford’s partner and are supposed to take care of his interests in his absence. Now open this. I’m dying of curiosity. It’s from New York.”

  “New York?” Angela’s eyes widened. “All right, then. Give it to me.”

  Angela opened the telegram and read it. Stunned, she then read it aloud to Mary Lou.

  BRADFORD, TOOK YOUR ADVICE AND MARRIED MY SWEETHEART WITHOUT FATHER’S PERMISSION. FATHER WASN’T HALF AS MAD AS EXPECTED. ALL WELL. CAN’T THANK YOU ENOUGH.

  LOVE, CANDISE

  She dropped the paper and looked at Mary Lou, fury and disbelief turning her violet eyes to sapphire. “I was led to believe she was Bradford’s wife!”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Angela’s eyes sparkled with anger. “Don’t you see? Bradford told me he was married just to hurt me. It was just another blade to twist in my heart! I should have realized he was lying.”

  “So he’s not married?”

  “No!”

  “But that should make you happy, Angela, not furious. Now you can stay here and work things out.”

  “Not on your life!” Angela stormed. “If I stayed here, I’d be tempted to kill that bastard!”

  Mary Lou sighed. “You’ll write to me?”

  “Of course,” Angela replied. “I thought I’d go on a grand tour first, to keep myself busy. Then I’ll probably settle in England. Jacob left me a small estate there. But I’ll always keep in touch with you. I’ll want to hear all about your wedding.”

  “I’d best be going then.” Mary Lou came forward and hugged her friend. “I’ll miss you, honey. But I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  Angela listened to Mary Lou ride off, and then Angela continued packing. An hour later, she had the only hired hand left on the ranch load her things in the buckboard and drive her into town. By the time she checked into a hotel, her temper had cooled and remorse was beginning to take over. She would take the stage the next day, and soon buy passage on a ship bound for England. She didn’t really want to go, but she could think of no other solution. She stood staring out her hotel window for a long, long time.

  Chapter 47

  THREATENING clouds hovered and an eerie quiet prevailed as Bradford urged his horse on to greater and greater speed. One of the four riders with him eased ahead of Bradford’s horse and pulled in on the reins. The animal slowed gradually, finally coming to a stop. The beast was frothing at the mouth.

  “Are you crazy?” Bradford shouted, trying to jerk the reins away from the other man.

  “Take it easy, Mr. Maitland,” the sheriff said as he dismounted. “You come to me for help and you’re gonna take my advice whether you want to or not.”

  “But I’ve wasted enough time as it is,” Bradford returned, desperation creeping into his voice.

  “Well, go on then—if you want to get yourself and the lady killed!”

  Bradford slumped forward. “What do you suggest then?”

  “Tell me again about the old drunk. You said he came to you at the bar, and he called you by name?”

  “Yes. He said he’d been paid a dollar to deliver a message to me, that I was to return alone to my ranch immediately if I ever wanted to see my partner alive again.”

  “Those w
ere the exact words?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who gave him the message?”

  “A couple of strangers, two men he’d never seen before.”

  The sheriff took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked up at the brooding gray clouds overhead and smiled, then turned back to Bradford.

  “Those storm clouds are a blessing. Time is important and they’ll make it darker all that much sooner, ‘specially if the storm breaks.”

  “Get to the point, sheriff,” Bradford replied irritably and dismounted.

  They moved away from their three riding companions. “All right, now. Whoever it is at your ranch, we gotta assume they’re after you, and not your lady partner.”

  “I’m not arguing that point.”

  “We also gotta figure they’re in your house with Miss Sherrington,” the sheriff continued. “If we just go ridin‘ in there, they got all the advantage. They’re in a position to make any demands they want, since they’re holdin’ the lady.”

  “We are not going to ride in there, sheriff—I am!” Bradford pronounced adamantly. “The message said specifically that I was to come alone.”

  “I agree with you,” the sheriff returned. “I’m not inclined to endanger the lady’s life. But if you want to save your own skin, then you’ll wait till dark.”

  “Damnit, sheriff! They said to get out there immediately!” Bradford exclaimed.

  “Look, Mr. Maitland. You said it was an old drunk gave you the message, that you couldn’t even understand him at first.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, they have to take a delay into consideration, considerin‘ who they picked to deliver the message. They’ll wait. And you can see by the sky that it’ll be dark very soon.”

  “All I see is that Angela’s in danger,” Bradford replied tensely, his eyes burning. “She must be scared out of her wits by now.”

  “But she’ll be alive. Now, what you gotta do if you want to get through this with the least risk to your own life, is to sneak in there after dark. We’re about a half mile from your ranch, I’d say. We’ll move in closer when you’re ready to go. And just as soon as I hear any shootin‘, then me and the boys here will come on in.”

  “Fair enough,” Bradford said, and they moved back to wait with the others.

  Bradford lay flat in Angela’s garden, thankful for the small cover it gave him. Large drops of rain started to fall, but then stopped. He scanned the yard, but could see nothing in the darkness surrounding him. The house was also in darkness.

  Taking a deep breath, he dashed for the side of the house. He pressed his back against the wall and then moved slowly toward his bedroom window.

  Without wasting a moment, he slipped through his window, praying he would find no one waiting for him. But the room was empty, the door closed.

  It was pitch black inside, making it impossible for him to see even a foot in front of him. He crept toward the door, careful not to bump into anything. The house was deathly still.

  Bradford carried in his hand the colt .45 given him by the sheriff. Bradford held it up against himself now as he edged the door open and looked out. The house was dark and he could hear nothing.

  “I advise you to throw down whatever weapon you have, Mr. Maitland, and come on in here with your hands raised. Otherwise, your partner dies.”

  Bradford couldn’t tell who the man was, only that he was in the living room. Bradford dropped his gun on the floor and came forward, his hands above his head.

  The front of the house was still in darkness, but Bradford could make out a man’s shadow by the fireplace. Scanning the area quickly, Bradford saw another form in the kitchen.

  “All right, you can get some light in here now, Logan,” the man by the fireplace called. “And bring the rope.”

  When a lamp was brought to the living room, Bradford recognized the man with flaming red hair immediately. He wore a heavy jacket over dark blue pants and shirt, and a gun belt strapped to his legs. The gun was in his hand, leveled at Bradford’s chest.

  “Courtney Harden,” Bradford said, lowering his hands.

  “Looks like you have more enemies than just me,” Harden laughed, looking closely at Bradford’s face. “Who beat you up? I’d like to congratulate the fellow.”

  “What do you want, Harden?”

  “I suppose you thought you’d never see me again, eh, Bradford?”

  “To tell the truth, I didn’t think about it much one way or the other.”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t. The only thing on your mind is adding to your already abundant riches. Never mind the little people you step on along the way.”

  “Just what is it you want, Harden?” Bradford asked impatiently.

  “I know this is going to be hard for the likes of you to understand, but some people just don’t like getting stepped on. That’s why I’m going to kill you.”

  “For dismissing you?” Bradford laughed.

  Courtney came forward. “That hotel-restaurant was my idea, not yours! I worked for years on that setup before I ever came to you with it. You cost me my contacts, my girls. You left me with nothing!”

  “I’ll admit you might have a grievance with me, Harden, but—isn’t murder a little extreme?”

  “That’s your opinion,” Courtney replied with a cold smile. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “So you were the one responsible for the other attempts on my life.”

  “Yes. When you escaped unharmed in New York, and men again in Springfield, I decided to give you the chance to make amends. That’s why I came to see you in Mobile. But you weren’t agreeable. Then I tried once more to hire it done, but that damned Mexican came to your rescue. So, to get the job done, I’ll have to do it myself. It’s all worked out very well. There won’t be anyone to connect me with your death.”

  Bradford stiffened. “Where is—my partner? Do you intend to kill her too?”

  Courtney Harden’s laughter was genuine. “I knew my message about your partner would do the trick. I’ve seen the lady in town before and I’ve got to hand it to you, Bradford. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It was quite a nice arrangement you had here.”

  “Answer my question, Harden!” Bradford growled, and started toward him. “If you’ve touched her, I’ll—”

  Courtney raised his gun, leveling it at Bradford’s head. “You’re not in a position to do much of anything, my friend.” He motioned and Logan came forward. “Bring a chair and let’s get this over with.”

  Logan brought one of the kitchen chairs and placed it beside Bradford. Logan was not a very large man, with graying brown hair and wary eyes. He was no match for Bradford and neither was Courtney. When Logan reached for him, Bradford sent the smaller man sprawling to the floor.

  “That wasn’t wise, Bradford,” Courtney said calmly, secure because he was armed. “If you want your lady partner to survive this, I suggest you be obliging and let Logan do his job.”

  “But if she has seen you—” Bradford began.

  “She hasn’t, I assure you. So I have no reason to kill the young woman, unless you give me trouble.”

  It was against Bradford’s nature to give up, but he had to think of Angela’s safety. So when Logan approached him again, Bradford let himself be tied to the chair with the rope.

  “I had almost hoped you would give me reason to put a few bullets in you, Bradford, but the lady must mean a great deal to you. It’s really too bad that I’m not a forgiving man.”

  “Where is Angela?”

  “That’s what is so beautiful about all this, Brad,” Courtney grinned. “You see, she’s not here. And I have no idea where she is. I fully expected her to be here, but when I arrived, the place was deserted. There was no sign of clothes or anything else that might have belonged to the lady. Fortunately for me, you didn’t know that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come.”

  “You bastard!”

  “Yes, I am tha
t,” Courtney chuckled. “I’m a sonofabitch too. But I will live out my days knowing that you will not. Now I must end this conversation, however much I have enjoyed talking to you. We really must get on with this before the storm breaks and puts out the fire.”

  Bradford’s blood chilled. “Fire?”

  Now Courtney’s eyes lit up grotesquely. “Didn’t I tell you? That’s how you’re going to die.”

  Logan got the lamp from the kitchen and handed it to Courtney and they crossed to the door. Courtney looked slowly around the room, then rested his exultant gaze on Bradford once again.

  “It was a nice place you had here—once,” he said before he threw the lamp down in the middle of the floor. “I’ll surely see you in hell someday, Bradford Maitland,” he cried.

  The fire spread rapidly across the floor. In just seconds the closed door was aflame, then the curtains. In minutes me whole house would be a blazing inferno. Bradford watched, stunned, as the flames danced closer and closer.

  Chapter 48

  ANGELA returned to her hotel room after an early dinner. The room was quite luxurious, but that wasn’t surprising. In many ways, Dallas was a sophisticated city.

  A large brass bed dominated the room. There was also a quaint gold velvet love seat with matching chair beside it, and a walnut writing desk. A fire was burning in the marble fireplace, taking away the chill that accompanied the brooding weather. Portraits of eighteenth-century royalty covered most of the green-and-gold wallpaper.

  Angela sat down at the desk and gathered pen and paper. She only just started a letter to Jim McLaughlin when there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?”

  Hearing no answer, she got up and walked to the door. She opened it and saw a slim young man standing there grinning and she paled.