Angel ww-3

by Johanna Lindsey

  Cassie tried pushing the event from her mind. It was a tragedy a couple of years old— which she’d just forced him to relive. Some levity was called for to break the somber mood that tale had left, but she wasn’t all that adept at lightening moods. Getting folks annoyed with her was her forte.

  But she owed it to him to try, so she said, “I hope you didn’t save the worst for last.”

  He actually laughed. “Figured that one would have shut you up.”

  She cast him a suspicious look. “Was that the truth you just told me?”

  “The shortened version — unless you want to hear about her folks’ reaction. Those two children were all they had. They blamed me for not saving the girl.”

  “But you tried!”

  “They weren’t interested in hearing that.”

  No, they wouldn’t be, but then, grief was a strange emotion, affecting each person differently. And Angel didn’t sound bitter about it. He’d probably seen a great deal of grief in his career — possibly some that he’d caused himself.

  He suddenly added, “I never told anyone about that girl and her brother.”

  Cassie was surprised, but his confession also caused a warm feeling akin to pleasure that was more than just feeling privileged that he’d shared the story with her. It flustered her enough that she said, “Then would you like to share the last account with me?”

  She’d left herself open to a flat-out no, but instead he remarked, “You really do like to meddle, don’t you?” She blushed, but he didn’t wait for her response. “It don’t make no never mind to me. The third time happened only last month. The rumor was that this fellow by the name of Dryden married rich old widows for their money, then killed them off. He was making a career out of it.”

  “You actually killed a man based on a rumor?”

  He ignored the shock in her expression, going on in the same conversational tone. “There were a lot of folks who knew about it, just no way to prove it after the fact. You really think I’d kill someone because of a rumor?”

  The blush was back worse than before. Truth time again. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “No, I wouldn’t — though it sure made it easier to pull that trigger, knowing about all those widows who died before their time. But I shot Dryden because he’d just handed over a woman, an English duchess, to a bunch of cutthroats, and he knew full well they were going to murder her. She happened to be a friend of Colt Thunder’s, and he asked me to join up with this outlaw bunch who was hunting her, so I’d be there to help her out if she needed it. Turned out she needed it. If I hadn’t shot him, Dryden would have lit out of there with his blood money, and I didn’t want to take the chance that I might not find him again.”

  “Did you save the Englishwoman?”

  “She was still alive last I saw. Keeping her that way is Colt’s problem now.”

  “I’d forgotten that you know him, and Jessie and Chase Summers as well. They’re my neighbors, you know.”

  “I know.”

  His tone was slightly resigned, as if he wished it were otherwise. She looked at him curiously, but he was staring out at the sagebrush-dotted plain, so she decided she’d be better off not pursuing that thought.

  “I’m surprised to hear Colt has made friends with a white woman. If I hadn’t known him before — well, before the Callan incident, he wouldn’t give me the time of day now.”

  Anyone who knew Colt Thunder knew about that time several years ago when he’d been whipped nearly to death because he’d dared to court a white woman. The girl’s father had taken exception to it when he’d found out Colt was half Cheyenne Indian. But Colt had never looked at white women the same after that, at least those he wasn’t already acquainted with. The rest he treated like the plague.

  “Maybe the term ‘friend’ was a mite too generous,” Angel allowed. “That duchess had somehow corralled Colt into escorting her up to Wyoming, so he’s stuck with her for the time being. I didn’t say he liked it. Fact is, he don’t like it one little bit.”

  That sounded more in line with what she knew about Colt Thunder, so her thoughts went back to what Angel had confessed about his third “unfair” killing. “You knew you were going to save that Englishwoman, or at least try to, so how do you justify killing Dryden?”

  That had him stopping again, and again she had to twist around to look at him. “Lady, he didn’t know I wasn’t part of that bunch that had promised him five thousand to hand her over. As far as he knew, he was bringing her to us to die, and let me tell you something, the plans they had for her didn’t include a clean, easy death. Besides, I call it as I see it. If a man’s doing something that would earn him a rope, it don’t bother me to save the hangman the trouble. So if you think I regret killing that bastard, think again. It was a pure pleasure. But what the hell should I expect? She called it cold-blooded murder, too, even though she’d be dead now if I hadn’t been there. So you think I give a good damn what the hell you call it?”

  Cassie didn’t know what to say. He was angry that she was judging him, and rightly so. If she’d been there, she might have called it exactly as he did — though without the courage to take care of Dryden as he deserved.

  She faced forward again, and waited until he drew up beside her. The browns and grays of the low plain were starting to give way to the green of the hilly river region where the cattle grazed. The range camp of her father’s two remaining hands was just over the next rise, but that seemed miles away when she was presently sitting in a hot seat of discomfort.

  “You’re right,” she said by way of apology. “That man was as guilty as if he’d killed her himself, for intent is equal to the deed.”

  “Not always.”

  He was looking at her as he said it, traces of his anger still present, so she had little doubt he’d had some mayhem-type thoughts concerning her. Strangely, instead of causing alarm this time, the idea struck her funny and she grinned at him.

  “As long as you only think about it,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “Wringing my neck.”

  He tipped his hat back, letting the sun touch half of his face, and said in that lazy, slow drawl of his, “Is that what I was doing?”

  Her eyes widened in feigned surprise. “Worse than that?”

  He laughed then, playing along. “I reckon neck-wringing’s good enough.”

  “But mine’s a scrawny neck. If d snap real quick. Not much satisfaction in that.”

  “Then I’ll have to think of something else. Can’t have revenge without—”

  He didn’t finish. Two shots fired in quick succession drew his attention, and his demeanor changed to tense alertness, even though the shots had come from a distance. The low rumbling that followed moments later, however, needed no explanation. They had both heard that sound before.

  Cassie groaned inwardly. Angel was more vocal. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said as the first stampeding steers came tearing over the distant rise — heading straight in their direction.

  Cassie didn’t even consider taking his advice. “That’s my father’s herd,” was all she replied before she set her horse to a gallop to intercept the cattle.

  Angel couldn’t believe his eyes. “Lady, you’re going the wrong way!” he yelled after her, but she didn’t stop.

  For two seconds he thought, To hell with her. The area was wide open, with ample room to get out of the way of the oncoming herd. Then he let out a foul expletive, dug in his spurs, and followed her.

  Chapter 9

  Cassie had no fear riding toward that herd— well, not too much. But she knew what she was doing. She’d seen it done before. The animals had been spooked into the wild run by gunfire. Gunfire could turn them back. But as frightened as they were now, she had to wait until she was close before making her move to be sure her shots would startle them into turning back.

  So she didn’t draw her rifle until she was almost upon them; then she fired off two rounds into the air,
only the shots didn’t do what they were supposed to. Instead of the cattle veering off so they’d circle around on themselves, the herd split in two with Cassie now dead-center of the two halves. And those two halves quickly closed in on her.

  Angel was cut off from reaching her by the terrified cattle rushing past him. He fired off a shot himself to clear a path to her, but he only succeeded in turning a few steers aside. There were just too many of them, and they were moving too fast for him to slip through. Yet she was trapped in the center of that mass, barely above it, and from what he could see, she’d lost control of her horse. Nor did the animal have enough room now to turn around on its own so it could at least move with the cattle. And then it floundered, its hind legs buckling under, and he saw the woman go down with it.

  Suddenly Angel was in the grip of a fear worse than he’d felt the first time he’d nearly died. He had an acceptance of his own death now. It came with the job. This was different. This had him circling around far enough behind the herd so that he could ride into it, had him emptying his rifle into the mass, uncaring of what he hit, and yelling at the top of his lungs— and soon had him as enmeshed as Cassie was, with the bawling, pushing animals all around him. But at least he was moving with them, moving toward her, though he could no longer see her.

  He heard another shot, but wasn’t sure if she’d fired it or if one of the two cowboys had finally shown up, racing along the outer edges of the mass to attempt to stop it. But after a moment Cassie’s horse appeared again, just up ahead, only Angel still couldn’t see her.

  By the time he reached it, his heart seemed lodged in his throat. Finding Cassie on the other side, clinging to the saddle horn and using the horse as a shield, didn’t rid him of his fear, either. Until he got her off the ground…

  He did that, reaching over her horse to yank her across the saddle. His instinct was to keep pulling until he had her safely on his own mount, but she was already bringing her leg over to sit up, so apparently she wasn’t too injured. He took her reins instead, and managed to get her horse turned so they could continue moving with the herd, gradually working their way to the edge of it.

  Fortunately, most of the cattle were beyond them now, so it didn’t take that long to reach clear ground. But Angel didn’t stop until he came to a lone tree at the base of the hill the cattle had come over. There he dismounted and carefully lifted Cassie into his arms, carrying her under the tree to set her against the trunk.

  She was as pale as death beneath the layer of dust they were both wearing now, which was why his voice was so sharp when he demanded, “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m all right,” she got out before a few seconds of coughing took over. “I just got my foot stepped on, but I don’t think anything’s broken. I could use some water, though. I feel like I’ve eaten half the dirt in Texas.”

  That was not what he was expecting to hear. He was hunkered down beside her and didn’t move for several long moments as he stared at her. It took that long for it to sink in that she wasn’t hurt at all, was no more than shook up. And then his anger rose in proportion to his relief. But he kept it to himself. He felt like throttling her for the scare she’d just given him, but he reckoned she’d been through enough already. She didn’t need…

  “Damn fool woman! Haven’t you got a lick of sense?”

  He stood up as he shouted it, and didn’t wait for an answer, but marched over to get his water canteen from his horse. This he dropped carelessly in her lap when he returned. She didn’t reach for it immediately. She was too wary of his angry expression to move at all.

  “Well?”

  “I reckon I don’t,” she said appeasingly.

  “Damned right you don’t! That was a stampede out there, lady. You don’t deliberately put yourself in the path of something like that.”

  “I thought I could turn them. They were heading straight for the MacKauleys’ grazing land, and any of my father’s steers that they’ve been finding lately, they haven’t been giving back. We’re already missing about thirty head. I’ve tried to keep the herd contained because of it.”

  “Which is likely why they were so easy to stampede,” he said in disgust. “So which side do you suppose we have to thank?”

  She visibly relaxed now that he wasn’t shouting at her. She even washed out her mouth, then took a long swallow from his canteen before answering. “This has the mark of the Catlins on it. And the shots came from their direction.”

  “The other side could have come around so you’d think so,” Angel pointed out.

  “True, except the MacKauleys just threatened me straight out, but the Catlins don’t let a week go by that they don’t do something to hurry me on my way home. And neither side has tried to conceal what they’re doing or place the blame on the other. They want me to know it’s them.”

  He thought that over while he watched her try to untie the knot on her bandana with shaky fingers. He finally hunkered down next to her to do it for her. She flinched as his hand came near, then just stared at him as he worked the knot loose and slipped the cloth from her neck.

  “You should have put this on,” he said gruffly as he doused the red cloth with water and handed it back to her.

  “I know, but there wasn’t much time to think about things like that, and, contrary to what you might think, they don’t come natural to me. I may have grown up on a ranch, but I’ve never worked with cattle the way my mama does.”

  He said nothing to that, so she took a moment to scrub the grime from her face with the wet cloth. When she was done, he took it from her and rubbed a few places she’d missed. She stared at him in bemusement then.

  “Why are you being so nice?”

  His black eyes met hers with a frown. “So you don’t look so pitiful when I beat you.”

  Cassie’s mouth dropped open. He reached over and lifted her chin to shut it. Then he doused the red cloth again and used it on his own dusty face. He’d had enough sense to cover his face with his bandana before riding into that cloud of dust the cattle had created, so he didn’t have as much to wipe off.

  Cassie was testing her foot when he finished. “You want me to have a look at it?” he offered.

  She gave him a sharp look after his last crack, but he appeared sincere. Yet to have his hands on her bare foot? The thought made her shiver. “No, thanks. My toes all move, so it’s no more than a bruise.”

  His frown got darker as he stared at her foot. “It shouldn’t be even that, so I’ll ride over and pay ‘em a visit if you’ll point me in the right direction.”

  “Them” had to be the Catlins. “Oh, no.” She shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not.”

  He stood up to growl at her. “Lady, that was a stampede we were just in. Someone could have got hurt, including me — in particular me. And especially you.”

  “That wasn’t their intention.”

  “To hell with their intention!” He was back to shouting. “You should have put a stop to this thing a long time ago. You didn’t break any laws that I can see. They got no right trying to drive you off.”

  Cassie sighed when it occurred to her that he was angry now on her behalf, rather than at her.

  That was much easier to deal with.

  “At home when folks get mad at me, my mama has always taken care of it,” she admitted ruefully. “She protects me something fierce, I guess because I’m her only child. But her always dealing with my problems hasn’t let me gain much experience in handling them myself. I guess I’m not doing too well at my first attempt.”

  “I noticed.”

  She bristled at that quiet rejoinder. “Don’t think I couldn’t have done some threatening of my own and backed it up. I don’t wear a Colt just to shoot snakes. I know how to use it, probably as well as you do.” She ignored his snort. “But that’s not my way.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s mine. And it’s things like this that I get hired for, so let me do what I’m good at.”

  “What you’re go
od at is killing people, but I won’t have anyone killed because of something I started. Haven’t I made that clear yet?”

  “When it just involves you, I’ll listen. When it involves me, I’ll damn well do something about it. Am I making myself clear, lady?”

  “Now just a damn minute,” she said angrily as she scrambled to her feet. “No one around here has done anything to you. Don’t you dare make this personal.”

  “It became personal when I realized who you are. You’re Colt’s neighbor, and he happens to be about the only man I call a friend. That makes it personal.”

  She had no answer for that, since it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d see it that way. And it didn’t look like he was going to wait around for her further input, either. He was already heading for his horse.

  She had to try anyway. “What are you going to do?”

  He mounted before he said, “I’ll see the sheriff first. If the law will handle it, I’ll back off.”

  That should have delighted her, but had her groaning instead. “Don’t waste your time. He’s a Catlin relative this year. He’d take care of a complaint against the MacKauleys, but against his own kin he won’t do anything.”

  “Then I’ll have to have a talk with the Catlins after all,” he replied.

  All she could think about then was that story he’d told about the partner who owned the sheriff, and how he’d taken the law into his own hands because of it. “Couldn’t you do things a little differently this time?”

  “How’s that?”

  “Guns aren’t the answer to everything. Could you maybe not shoot anyone around here? I–I would consider it a personal favor.”

  He didn’t answer right away, and those sinful black eyes of his managed to unnerve her before his words did. “You already owe me, lady. I doubt you want your debt any higher— but I’ll keep it in mind.”

  The color came hotly to her cheeks, but he didn’t stay to see it. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to find the Catlin ranch. She hoped Buck Catlin wouldn’t be there if he did, because Buck might not be as hot-tempered as the MacKauleys, but he was twice as arrogant. And how dare Angel make light of her request by reminding her of that ridiculous debt that they both knew he wasn’t serious about? It was a joke — with heart-pounding possibilities.