by Connie Mason
Kneeling at the brook's edge, he removed his shirt and splashed water over his face and torso. Then he tossed his shirt over his shoulder and followed Angela back to the campsite. His limbs froze and a groan slipped past his lips when he saw Angel's slim form silhouetted against a backdrop of canvas. She was standing inside the wagon, wearing nothing but her chemise and petticoats, blissfully unaware of the spectacle she was providing Rafe.
When she stepped out of her petticoats, Rafe's loins swelled and cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Then the lantern went out and Rafe let his imagination run rampant. He envisioned Angela removing her chemise and drawers, then slipping her nightgown over long bare legs and gloriously unrestrained curves.
Madness drove him as his legs moved forward of their own accord. He wanted the angelic songbird, and the way he felt now nothing was going to stop him. Fortunately reason returned when he reached the tailgate and he skidded to a halt. What in the hell was he thinking? Sister Angela may be his wife but she wasn't for him. Besides, she had a fiancé waiting for her in Pueblo. It was time she told him what in the hell was going on.
He paused behind the wagon and rattled the tailgate. "Angela, come out, we need to talk."
"Can't it wait until morning?" came her muffled reply.
"I might not be here in the morning."
That brought an instant response. The lantern flared to life and a tousled blond head appeared in the back opening. "You're leaving?"
"We both knew I eventually would. I want to know why you saved my life. You didn't have to go through with the marriage, you know." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Maybe I'm wrong. For whatever reason, perhaps you did want a husband. It's difficult to believe you're simply a do-gooder looking for souls to save. If that was your motive, I'm beyond redemption."
Angela ground her teeth in frustration. "I'm sure your soul isn't worth saving, Mr. Gentry. Good night. Or should I say good-bye?" Then she removed her head from the opening and pulled the canvas together with a snap..
Frustrated beyond endurance, Rafe dropped his shirt, vaulted up over the tailgate and lunged through the canvas opening.
"We're not through talking, Mrs. Gentry."
Angela grabbed for her shawl and pulled it over her flimsy nightgown. "Get out!"
"In my own good time. Sit down, sister, and tell me what possessed you to save my life. Not that I'm ungrateful," he added, "just confused."
Angela stared at Rafe's bare chest as is she'd never seen a man in that state of undress before, as indeed she hadn't. She wanted to shut her eyes but couldn't. She'd never thought of a man's body as arousing, until she saw Rafe Gentry's bare torso. Tongues of flickering light lapped at his rippling muscles and sculptured chest. She tired to focus on his face but something perverse compelled her to slide her gaze down his torso, to the lean, tempered plane of his stomach.
She flushed and returned her gaze to his face. The light was bright enough to reveal wide, deep-set eyes and boldly slanted eyebrows. His hair was thick and long and black as ink against his neck and throat. His nose was straight, his jaw square and his chin aggressively blunted.
His was a handsome face, but not without character. Painful memories shadowed his silver eyes and Angela suspected his lopsided smile hid a checkered past. Instinct told her he wasn't a killer but common sense warned her he was no stranger to violence.
She watched the play of lamplight in his eyes and experienced a prickling rush of sensation travel up her spine. As unnerving as it was, Angela couldn't look away. It was the sound of his voice that finally jerked her from her bemusement.
"Do you realize we're in one helluva fix? Excuse me, Sister, if I offend your delicate ears, but I can think of no other word to describe our situation. Why did you let the preacher marry us?"
"Why did you?"
"I had a skin to save, you didn't. Hell, I would have agreed to anything to save my life. You, on the other hand, had nothing to gain."
Her chin notched upward. "I couldn't let an innocent man die."
He sent her a startled look. "What made you think I was innocent?"
She stared at his bare chest and looked away. "Would you please put on a shirt?"
Rafe gave her a lopsided grin. "Do I bother you?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. It isn't right."
"Haven't you ever seen a man's bare chest before."
"Of course not," she said stiffly.
"We're married, or have you forgotten?"
Surely he didn't want...didn't expect to... "In name only, and that's how it's going to remain until we part company."
He was too close, filling the small space with his powerful presence and daunting body. She retreated until the back of her legs hit the cot behind her. He took an aggressive step forward, until he was so close she felt his hot breath fan her cheek.
"What do you want? You can't... I won't let you... Why are you doing this?"
"Are you really a prissy, purse-lipped holy woman, Angel? Or is that just a facade you assume whenever it suits you? What are you really like beneath that angelic halo you wear so well?"
A jolt of heat surged through her veins. Angela hated to think that the sight of Rafe's naked chest bothered her even though her stomach was flooding with a strange and potent warmth.
"You're insulting," Angela said, drawing her shawl closer around her. "Say what you have to say and leave."
"All right." He grasped her shoulders and pushed her down on the cot. She wanted to jump up when he sat down beside her but she forced herself to ignore the tension arcing between them.
"Let's start off with the truth. Why did you save my skin back there in Ordway. For all you knew I was a cold-blooded killer."
"I was simply repaying a debt. You helped me in Garden City, remember? Would a killer do that? Besides, lynching is against the law."
He sent her a guarded look. "Why didn't you stop the wedding? One word from you and the marriage would never have taken place."
"I almost spoke up, if you recall. But you convinced me that things had gone too far. I...couldn't let the lynch mob have you."
"No ulterior motive? His probing gaze settled on her stomach. "You're not increasing and in need of a husband, are you?"
"What!" Angela sputtered indignantly. "How dare you! You're making me very sorry I saved your life."
"What about that fiancé waiting for you in Pueblo? Isn't he going to be disappointed?"
After a long pause, Angela said, "There is no fiancé. I made him up for Reverend Conrad's benefit."
"Why?"
Since she didn't expect to see Rafe again once he departed, Angela felt no obligation to tell him her life history. The less he knew about her circumstances the better. She didn't know him. Once he learned she was part owner of a gold mine he might turn greedy and decide to stick around. She had enough grief with both Desmond and Anson trying to ruin her life.
"It's none of your concern. When I'm settled," she added, "I'll see to the annulment. You needn't worry yourself about it. Once you ride away you can consider yourself a free man. I will make no demands upon you."
Suspicious by nature, Rafe found it difficult to believe Angela wanted nothing from him. No woman alive was completely selfless. There was much she wasn't telling him. He could force her to reveal everything, but on the other hand, did he really want to know? He had enough on his plate already. He was free, that's all that mattered.
"Keep your secrets, sister. You saved my skin, that's enough for me." He stood. So did she. "I'll probably be gone when you awaken tomorrow. Can you manage the team on your own?"
"I've done it for the past six weeks. I'm close to my destination. I'll be just fine."
"Then I reckon this is good-bye."
"I suppose it is."
Rafe had no idea how she ended up in his arms. He just knew that he'd never felt anything so warm and soft in his life. He had but to bend his head and... He captured her mouth. Captured and possessed it, his mouth molding hers, his tongue p
laying along the velvety fullness of her lush lips. At first she stppd frozen against his length, her breath short and explosive, her body rigid.
He drew her closer, until he felt her nipples pebble against his bare chest. He deepened the kiss, his tongue probing, exploring what he suddenly realized was virgin territory. He imagined he could feel her heart thudding in time to his own raging pulse. Then he felt her mouth move tentatively under his and desire emboldened him to lower his palm to her breast.
She twisted and lurched back, her hand raised to strike him. He grasped her wrist before it reached his face. Her eyes were chips of blue ice and her lips were swollen, her hair disheveled. She was breathing fast. So was he. The air between them crackled. Something had just happened here but Rafe had no idea what it was.
"That will never be repeated again," she said shakily. He could tell she was struggling to regain her composure.
Rafe grinned. "I was simply kissing my wife good-bye."
"Good-bye, Mr. Gentry. Try to stay out of trouble. I won't be around to save your neck next time you clash with the law."
Rafe decided to leave before he did something he'd regret later. "So long, Angel."
Then he was gone, leaving Angela with an empty space inside her she couldn't explain. She raised her fingers to her lips; they felt fuller and plumper than they had before Rafe kissed her. They were not afire, as they were only a few minutes earlier when his lips were pressing against hers, but only slightly warm.
Angela wondered why she hadn't resisted more strongly. At the very least she should have placed a well-aimed knee in his groin. But she hadn't. She had rested complacently in his arms and let him kiss her, playing her mouth as if he owned it. Her knees were still weak and her stomach roiling. For the sake of her sanity, she sincerely hoped she and Rafe Gentry never crossed paths again.
Rafe found scant rest in his bedroll that night, or what remained of it. He rose at the first hint of daylight, washed up at the stream, saddled his horse and rode off, gnawing on jerky he carried in his saddlebags. He rode west, toward Pueblo, deciding it was as good place as any to buy supplies and take in the lay of the land. He was nearly out of cash and if there were no wanted posters out for his arrest in town, he might decide to find a temporary job to fill his empty pockets.
For both their sakes, he hoped he didn't run into Angel Abbot again. At some point during their brief acquaintance he'd named her Angel in his head, and the name seemed to fit. It was his dearest wish to block her from his mind entirely, but he knew that was a lost hope. He would never forget his brief marriage to the woman with the voice of a songbird and sweet face of an angel. Or the compelling attraction that made him want to learn all Angel's secrets and to keep her close to him.
It was late when Rafe reached Pueblo. He stabled his horse and found a hotel room. He fell into bed totally exhausted. He arose early the next day, bought breakfast and strolled through town. Ducking into the general store, he asked about a job. The proprietor told him the Circle K ranch foreman was hiring men for the roundup and to wait in the Whistle Stop saloon for him to show up.
Rafe headed over to the Whistle Stop, pushed through the swinging doors and bellied up to the bar. He ordered a beer and carried it to a nearby table to await the Circle K foreman.
It was still early. The saloon had few clients. A pair of Easterners sitting at the next table alerted Rafe. Without knowing either of them, Rafe felt an immediately animosity toward them. He rarely judged on sight, but for some unexplained reason the two men raised the hackles on the back of his neck. He took a swig of beer and tried to tune out their conversation, but something they said captured his attention. He could have sworn they were talking about a woman named Angela. Pretending disinterest, he leaned closer and listened.
"Angela hasn't shown up yet, Dexter. What if she isn't coming?"
"Relax, Chandler, Angela is traveling with the Conrads and Pueblo is the evangelists last stop on the circuit. The revival tent has already been erected in anticipation of their arrival. They'll be here. We'll give them another couple of days. If they don't show up soon, I'll wire Ordway and find out what's keeping them."
"Angela's not going to like it," Anson Chandler said. "If you recall, she left me standing at the altar. Hell, Dexter, you promised we'd share in that gold mine of hers if I married her. You said we'd both be rich if that mine is producing like it has in the past."
"It's producing, all right. I had it checked out years ago, after Simon Abbot began sending money to Angela. Simon's partner thought he could pull the wool over our eyes by telling us it had played out, but I know better. Once you marry Angela, all that gold will be ours."
"It had better be," the younger man grumbled. "I'm not too keen on marriage, but beggars can't be choosers and I'm desperate for money. My parents squandered my inheritance and it's either marry money or find employment. When you came to me with your proposition it seemed the answer to my prayers. I didn't know I'd have to travel half way to nowhere to get my hands on your stepdaughter's money."
As the conversation progressed, things began to make sense to Rafe. He hadn't pressed Angel concerning her reasons for traveling with the preacher, but he recalled that both she and Reverend Conrad had mentioned a mine. From what he'd gathered from the Easterners' conversation, Angel did indeed have a fiancé, and his name was Chandler.
She was also part owner of a gold mine. This was getting more interesting by the minute. It appeared that his Angel had gotten herself into a potentially dangerous situation.
"Is the preacher prepared to marry us the moment Angela hits town?" Chandler asked.
"Everything is set. The old fool saw nothing but the color of our money. He'll marry you and Angela even if she's unwilling."
"I'm not taking any chances with her getting away again," Chandler returned. "You lure her away from the Conrads and we'll both drag her to the preacher's house."
Dexter lifted his glass in salute and tossed his drink back. Then he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and rose. I'm going back to the hotel and pack. I want to head up to Canyon City right after the wedding."
Chandler scraped back his chair. "Wait for me."
Rafe's jaw clenched as he watched them leave. He shouldn't care, but he did. He thought he could ride away and forget the beautiful songbird who had saved his life, but his conscience kept getting in his way. How could he leave her to her fate when he knew what awaited her?
The answer to his question wasn't surprising. He had to go back and warn Angel. She needed to be told about Dexter and Chandler. From what little he gathered, Angel had a whole lot of baggage tagging along with her. Rafe had assumed she was one of those women who made saving souls their life's profession, but after listening to the men he assumed were her stepfather and fiancé, he realized she was in serious trouble. She had used the Conrads to cover escape, and though his Angel's halo was somewhat tarnished, he couldn't let her ride into Pueblo and the trap that awaited her.
Rafe swallowed the last of his beer and rose, his mind made up. Thirty minutes later he had checked out of the hotel and was riding back toward Ordway. He met Angela ten miles east of Pueblo.
Angela had awakened that morning with a sense of foreboding. Rafe was gone; he had left before daylight yesterday morning, but she hadn't expected to feel his loss so keenly. The fact that she was totally on her own was more frightening than she had anticipated. She spared a moment to wonder if she had been foolish to continue on to Canyon City, especially with Indians active in the area. But she had set her course and was determined to reach the Golden Angel to discover for herself the truth about the mine her father's death.
The afternoon sun was just setting when Angela saw a rider approaching. She watched him grow larger and larger until she recognized the limber, broad-shouldered man she had thought never to see again. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo and her breath came in short bursts of air.
Rafe!
She couldn't imagine why he was returning, but never
theless she halted the wagon and waited. He didn't say a word as he tied his horse to the tailgate and leaped onto the seat, pushing her aside and taking the reins. She could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't in the mood to argue so she let him have his way. But when he veered off the road that would take them to Pueblo, she loudly voiced a protest.
"Rafe Gentry! What's going on? This isn't the way to Pueblo."
"We're not going to Pueblo."
She tried to tug the reins from his hands without success. "You're mad!"
"No, just prudent. There are ways to reach Canyon City without going through Pueblo. Canyon City is where you're headed, isn't it?" She nodded. "We're skirting Pueblo, going directly to Canyon City."
"We?"
He slanted her a look that sent goose bumps down her spine. This was crazy. He comes riding back into her life and takes charge without so much as a by your leave. Who in the world did he think he was?
"What are you doing here? I never expected to see you again after you rode off yesterday morning."
"Who are Dexter and Chandler?" he asked without preamble.
The breath froze in Angela's throat. "Dexter and Chandler? How did you...? Who told you?"
"I overheard an interesting conversation between two Easterners in the saloon earlier today. Their names were Dexter and Chandler. I assume you know them."
Angela blanched. "They're in Pueblo? Already?" Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, no! How did you know about them?"
"I told you, I listened to their conversation. I didn't pay much attention until your name was mentioned. They were talking about a gold mine. Then everything fell into place. I remembered you telling Reverend Conrad that you wanted to reach the Golden Angel without delay. You might as well start from the beginning and tell me everything."
