Angel Gone Bad

by Sabine Starr

“If you’re right, you’re right.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “That means a lot to me.”

  “Come on. Here’s a shallow place to cross.”

  He rode across the rock-strewn riverbed to make sure it was solid underfoot. Safely on the other side, he motioned for Angel to follow. He hoped he was making the right decision, but he didn’t see any other way to reach their goals. He wished he didn’t have Angel with him. He didn’t much mind what happened to him, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her getting hurt. He’d just have to make sure she came to no harm.

  When they started up the Fort Towson Trail, he turned to look at her. “There’s a place I want to show you. It’s a ways, but we could rest up there a bit before we take on the V Gang and the Badgers.”

  “I’d like nothing better. Where is it?”

  “Up near the Arkansas border.” He looked out over the vast expanse of green ground and blue sky. He could get to like it here.

  “Feather bed?”

  “No, but it’s safe. Not many know about it. ”

  “As long as it’s some place where I can get off this horse and take a load off my derriere for a long while.”

  Rune chuckled at her fancy words for a sore butt. “Wish it was close. We’ve got about as far to go as it was to get here from New Boggy.”

  She groaned as if in pain. “I don’t know if I can make it.”

  “Once we’re there, Horsethief Spring isn’t too far away.”

  “It’d better not be.”

  “Course, it’s up on Winding Stair Mountain.”

  She groaned again, and then laughed. “If nothing else, I’ll soon be one of the best horsewomen in Indian Territory.”

  “You’re already the most beautiful.”

  She laughed harder. “You’ll say most anything to keep me in the saddle and on the move.”

  “Might be some truth in that.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “This place had better be good,” Angel said. “I’m hungry. I’m sore. I’m hot. I’m grumpy. We’ve ridden all day and all night again.”

  “We caught some sleep when we rested the horses.”

  “I dozed in the saddle, too, but I’m so ready to be off the back of this fine animal.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  “In Texas, it’s hard to believe there are so many rocks, hills, and mountains up here.”

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But I’d just as soon see it from a speeding train. When are they ever going to lay tracks from Paris to Fort Smith?”

  “They’re talking about in a few years. But the Choctaw don’t want it. They say it’ll ruin the land and bring in riffraff.”

  “They’ve got a point. Besides, it’s their country. But, oh, to make this trip in comfort.”

  “And speed.”

  “Might not need so many horses then. Do you think there could ever be a time when folks won’t need the AHTA?”

  “No. Not unless they get wagons to run by themselves.”

  “Not much likelihood of that.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “About as much chance as flying like a bird.”

  They both laughed at the ridiculous idea as they rode up to the top of Poteau Mountain.

  “Here we are.” Rune gestured toward the valley below.

  Angel looked out at the blue sky with fluffy white clouds, and then down at a small community of gray buildings nestled in the verdant green of trees, grass, and fields. Up close, chunks of lichen-marked sandstone dotted the landscape.

  “It’s pretty.” She shrugged, feeling every mile deep in her bones. “But I’d rather have dismounted below and not made the ride up here.”

  “We had to go up in order to get to Horsethief Spring anyway.” He turned his mount and headed across the plateau. “Come on.”

  She followed him, glad they were close to their destination. Yes, it was beautiful, but she’d been looking at natural beauty for days now. It was losing its charm.

  When Rune stopped and pointed downward, she rode up beside him. Maybe, finally, they could get down and rest. She looked where he pointed and her breath caught in her throat.

  A small waterfall cascaded down the side of a rock face into a sparkling stream in the ravine below, creating a fine, white mist. Red bud, wild plum, and dogwood grew out of the cracked rock and sandy floor. To one side a huge sandstone monolith stood on its own, twelve feet high by ten feet wide. She could see marks on its flat surface.

  “What do you think?” Rune asked, his voice hushed.

  “Mystical and magical. It’s gorgeous. How did you find this place?”

  “Folks here and there know about Runestone Ravine.” He urged his horse downward. “There’s a trail to the bottom.”

  As she followed him, her horse kicked loose small rocks that splashed into the water below. The air turned delightfully cool, moist, and scented with plum blossoms. She felt as if she could stay there forever.

  Rune let his horse drink first, so she joined him, relaxing for the first time in so very long. When the horses were full, he motioned toward the monolith and rode over to it.

  She stopped beside him and took a closer look at the rock. Over eons, the smooth, pale limestone had been pitted from rain, stained with rust-tinted streaks, and darkened with lichen, but all of that was natural. Across the center were marks made by human hands. She rubbed her finger into one of the gouges.

  “What are these?” She cocked her head and looked at him.

  “Runes. Somebody left a message on this runestone.”

  “Is it a language?”

  “Yes. It’s an old runic language, but there are several versions.”

  “Who uses it?”

  “I doubt if it’s much in use anymore. But Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Normandy in France, and other Norse countries used the letters. Vikings left marks all over the world. Maybe they just wrote something like ‘Anders was here’ as a message.”

  Angel chuckled at the idea. “Is that what this says?”

  “No. I can read it, but it’s the interpretation that counts. Runes are sacred symbols. Two of the runes represent All-Father Odin, one emphasizing ancestral land. One indicates mankind. Another represents horse or transportation. Another means to conceal or to hide.”

  “Vikings?”

  “I’d like to think so, but I don’t know. One thing for sure, these are Norse runes, so one way or another they’re connected to the Vikings.”

  “Vikings would have been a long time ago and we’re far from the Atlantic Ocean.”

  “Yet it’s possible they came a-viking here before Europeans set foot in America. These runic letters could spell or mean several things. Maybe a boundary marker. But there are a lot of French names around here. This mountain is called Poteau. That means post in French. Could be a French explorer from Normandy or Germany came here. Maybe this was a French outpost or lookout point for trappers, traders, or explorers before the land was bought by the United States.”

  “I’m surprised to find so much French influence in Indian Territory.”

  “Many of the Choctaw are part French. They married French traders in Mississippi and the South.”

  “But why leave a message where it’d be so hard to find?”

  “It’s a beautiful, peaceful place.”

  “What do you think it says?”

  “Maybe it simply means that explorers traveled far from their ancestral home and left a message that mankind would find one day and see the tribute to their bravery and the All-Father.”

  “I like it.”

  “Could even be true.” Rune placed his hand against the runestone for a moment. “I’d like to bring my sister here someday.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “She could cast the runes and give us a divination.”

  “What! Your sister is a fortune-teller, too?”

  “I don’t usually think about it that way, but yes.”

&n
bsp; “That’s why you so easily accepted what I told you about the road. But why didn’t you tell me about her?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “After all these years, what are the odds? I met Diana. Now I hear about your sister. I thought I was alone. I thought I had to hide my gift. I thought I’d never use it again. And now—”

  “You know different.”

  “How do you make runes workable on a small scale?”

  “You draw twenty-four or sixteen images onto rocks about an inch or so in size or cut them onto wood pieces.”

  “Cast them and see how they fall?”

  “Or pick out several like you did with the cards.” He glanced over at her, blue eyes bright like the nearby water. “Alta uses an old river rock set. Grandfather brought it from Sweden.”

  “Do you cast them, too?”

  “No. That’s my sister’s gift.”

  “And all this is going on up where you’re from in Kansas?”

  “Like the Indians, we combine the old with the new.” He smiled at her. “You didn’t want to touch cards at first. Did something happen that made you abandon them?”

  She nodded, realizing she could share this important part of her life with him. He’d understand, just as Diana had understood.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

  “Now that I know about your sister, I do want to explain. This goes back to Kentucky when I was a child. Along with religion, people still respected and used the old ways. My mother was a midwife, healer, and teller of fortunes. She helped a great many folks and was training me.

  “Then the war came. My father fought but never returned. Instead, carpetbaggers arrived and wanted our land. They used my mother’s gift as a weapon against us. After they burned us out, she warned me that to stay safe we must never touch cards again.”

  “I’m sorry. My sister is cautious about using the runes around strangers. Some people don’t understand their value or ancient heritage. If I’d known about your past, I wouldn’t have pushed you to play poker. I apologize.”

  “Don’t. It’s a blessing. You helped me overcome my fear. I doubt I would ever have touched cards again. Now I feel like I’m complete. I’ve reconnected to my mother and my heritage.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She looked into his concerned blue eyes. “I feel like I don’t even know you.”

  He smiled. “Might take a lifetime.”

  Startled, she realized his words could be a challenge or a promise. Did she want to find out which? She felt a shiver of anticipation. A lifetime with Rune filled with adventure and maybe even love.

  She turned her horse away from him, unwilling to confront the sudden surge of emotion. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t succumb to his charm again, for that way lay heartache. But what if a different path opened to her? One filled with passion and magic and love.

  Would she be strong enough to take a chance?

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Rune sat on a flat rock outcrop near the waterfall with his bare feet dangling in water tinted green by the trees above. Diffused sunlight cast a golden glow over Angel where she made circles in the stream with her bare feet. She also trailed fingertips in the water that lapped gently against their rocky perch. At a distance, the horses grazed on sparse grass.

  He felt at peace, casting adrift the past and future to enjoy the simple pleasures of the present.

  They’d eaten Crowdy’s food, which they’d removed from nearby saddlebags. They’d drunk sweet water from the stream. And they’d napped together on their combined blankets. He couldn’t put a price on the blessed rest.

  After such a long, hard struggle to reach this point, he felt his spirits and his body revive in the hidden ravine. He glanced up at the runestone. It felt mystical and protective. Far from home, Vikings had worn Thor’s Hammers to remind them of their loved ones and their gods. He touched the iron of his own Hammer through his shirt, feeling a deep connection to his ancient ancestors.

  They would understand his determination to right wrongs and clear his name. They would also understand Angel’s loyalty to her friend. They took pride in justice, loyalty, and family. The British and American legal systems were based on the ancient Norse Althing. When men went a-viking, they swore loyalty to a leader, but only to one who had proven his luck. They had lived and died for family and friends, just as they still did in America.

  He glanced at Angel. Justice, loyalty, family. Repeatedly, she had overcome her own limitations and beliefs to embody those traits. How had he not seen that strength in her the first time? Perhaps his own goals and his anger at her disloyalty had blinded him. Perhaps adversity brought out the best in her. Perhaps he could now see beyond her physical beauty to her inner beauty.

  Yet he couldn’t afford to let any of that matter. They were far from reaching their goals. They were still in danger. Until he had his life back, he was simply another outlaw on the run. A man like him had no future with a woman like her. But what about enjoying the simple pleasures of the moment? Yes, that he could give to Angel and to himself.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re quiet. Penny for your thoughts.”

  “The Vikings would have understood our quest.”

  “If they’d had to travel on horses instead of boats, they might have stayed at home.”

  He chuckled. “Has it been so hard?”

  “If I’d started out as a cowgirl, not hard at all. Cowboys would rather ride than walk. But I’ve never spent so many hours and miles on the back of a horse, astride at that, in my entire life.”

  “How about now?”

  “Either I’m numb, and you know where, or I’ve actually built muscle and grown accustomed to the back of a horse.”

  “Both, most likely.”

  “But I still prefer the train.”

  “What about the freedom to go wherever and whenever you please?”

  “I admit that’s a plus.”

  “You couldn’t get here on a train.”

  “You made your point. I agree.”

  “Now let me make another one.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Would you like to get rid of that trail dust?”

  “I’m about to jump in the water any moment.”

  “Want a bar of lavender soap to go with it?”

  “Don’t tease. That’s too good to be true.”

  “Want to check out my saddlebags?”

  She grabbed his saddlebags, rooted around in one side, and then the other before she held up a bar in triumph. She sniffed it, and then gave him a big smack on the cheek. “Where did you get this?”

  “Harris Mercantile.”

  “All the way back in Paris? You didn’t buy it for yourself. For me?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s so sweet.” She gave him another smack, leaned over the water, and worked up lather between her palms. “It’s wonderful!”

  “Glad you like it.”

  She gave him a calculating look from the corner of her eye. “Is this your way of getting me out of my clothes?”

  He grinned, nodding.

  “You had that in mind even back then?”

  “I’ve always had it in mind.”

  She bopped his arm with the soap. “You are naughty.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying, or planning ahead.”

  She laughed. “In that case, let’s get you cleaned up, too.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “I’m the one with the soap, aren’t I?”

  “Never argue with a lady holding a bar of soap.”

  She laughed harder. “Smart man. Now, off with your clothes and into the water.”

  “You first.”

  She brandished the soap. “You want to argue with lavender?”

  “I don’t want to argue at all.”

  He grabbed her around the middle and stepped into the pool. Water swirled around their ankles, wetting his t
rousers and her skirt.

  “Now look what you’ve done.” Angel chuckled as she pushed against his chest with one hand while holding the soap away from him with the other.

  “The way it was going, I’d be all day getting you in the water.”

  “What will I do about these wet clothes?”

  “Let me help.”

  He made short work of the buttons of her blouse, and then quickly pulled it off and tossed it on the rocks. He feasted on the sight of her. Nipples pebbled under a lacy muslin chemise. Breasts rounded like ripe peaches. He glanced up. Mouth tinted the color of wild plums. She licked her lower lip, revealing a rosy tongue and white teeth.

  That did it. He reached down, cupped water in his hands, and splashed it over her chemise, turning the fabric transparent. Now he could truly see her full-moon mounds tipped with taut cherries. Once seen, they must be felt. He clasped her breasts and squeezed, feeling the ripeness fill his palms. She moaned a low, husky sound that went straight to his gut.

  From there to the buttons of her skirt, his hands trembled with growing need as his prick quivered in response. He dropped her skirt into the water, where it floated around her ankles. Once more, he cupped water, but this time he tossed it lower, soaking her lacy drawers so that the fabric turned transparent and clung to her curves, revealing the dark heart of her. He covered that triangle with his hand and felt her steamy heat. She moaned once more and reached out to draw him close. But he didn’t let her.

  He picked her up, pushed the skirt aside, and cradled her in his arms. She wore nothing but sheer, clingy underwear, but that was still too much. As he moved deeper into the stream, he walked across smooth pebbles and caught the scent of wild flowers in bloom. She laid her head against his chest, and he felt the hotness of his erection blaze against the coolness of the water.

  When he reached the waterfall, he stepped through it so that they were both bathed in cool water. Now they were enclosed by a cliff wall on one side and falling water on the other. He lowered her so that she slowly slid down the length of him until they stood knee deep in the still pool of water, body to body.

  She trembled as he gently tilted her face up for a kiss. She felt like the smoothest cream. She smelled like the sweetest honeysuckle. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she tasted like sugar and spice.