by Connie Mason
Rafe shook his head. "You really are loco, Angel. What makes you think you can take on the world by yourself? You can't accuse a man of murder with no proof."
"I haven't accused anyone of murder...yet. I'll reserve judgment until I look into things for myself. There's a lawyer in Canyon City Father trusted, perhaps he will help me."
"Don't tell me any more," Rafe said. "It's none of my business. I've got my own troubles."
They had reached the outcropping of rock Rafe had chosen for a campsite and he pulled the wagon beneath the sheltering ledge.
"Can you manage here while I hunt for our supper?" Rafe asked as he lifted Angela down from the wagon.
"I'll be fine," Angela returned. "It's growing dark, watch out for wolves."
Idly, Angela wondered about the problems plaguing Rafe. She'd sensed from the beginning that he was on the run, but from what? The law? Could he actually be the killer folks in Ordway named him? She dismissed that notion immediately. But that didn't mean he wasn't wanted for some other crime. She knew intuitively that she couldn't let herself care about a man with a shady past, and Rafe Gentry's past was a shady as they came.
Rafe returned a short time later with a pair of scrawny prairie chickens, which they cooked and ate immediately. Angela cleaned up afterward, then glanced nervously at Rafe. "I guess I'll turn in. Good night."
His silver eyes darkened to the smoky gray of desire. "Does that mean you're not inviting me to share the wagon tonight?"
"Definitely not," Angela huffed.
"Don't you trust me?"
She spun around to face him. "After last night I don't even trust myself. I can't think around you, Rafe Gentry. I don't know what to make of you. You're a dangerous man, in more ways than one. You're far too comfortable wearing a gun, and you appear to know how to use it. What are you, Rafe Gentry? Who are you? You spoke of the war. Did you fight for the North or the South?"
"Does it matter?"
She shrugged. "Not really."
"My family came from Tennessee. My brothers and I fought on the losing side. We were not popular in Kansas."
"Are you running from the law?"
"I didn't commit any crime," Rafe hedged. "You ask too many questions."
"I'm your wife, remember?" she said archly.
"I haven't forgotten, but I fear you have."
Angela gave an exasperated snort. "This has gone too far. We both know our marriage is a farce. It should have never taken place. Nothing is going to happen between us tonight...or ever. Some misguided sense of responsibility made you turn back to warn me about the danger awaiting me in Pueblo, but we both know you won't stick around long."
"You're one determined lady," Rafe contended. "Your faith must be strong indeed to instill you with such confidence."
"Faith is a personal thing. Perhaps you don't have enough."
"The only thing I have faith in is my gun and my wits. Both kept me alive through the war."
"I never asked. Is there a woman waiting for you back in Kansas?"
Rafe grimaced. "No specific woman, but there have been women. A man doesn't reach the age of twenty-eight without having women in his life."
"Don't count on adding me to your list," Angela said, turning away.
A smile lingered on Rafe's lips as he watched her march to the wagon and climb inside.
Rafe stared moodily into the fire, listening to the mournful call of a wolf and thinking about the woman who thought she could exist in a man's world on her own. She had to be the most naive woman alive for she definitely wasn't prepared to handle all the problems piling up on her plate. Not only were her stepfather and fiancé hot on her trail, but her father's partner was an unknown entity. Only a very foolish woman, or one with strong convictions, would think herself invincible.
But Angel's difficulties were none of his concern. If he wasn't careful he'd find himself mired down in her problems, and sticking around in one place was dangerous. He wouldn't be surprised if wanted posters started appearing soon and he had to keep one step ahead of the law.
The wolf stopped howling and silence closed in on him like a suffocating curtain. Then he heard it. Her voice wafted through the darkness, sweet and dulcet, her notes startlingly pure. She sang a hymn he recognized from his youth. It took him back a good many years. She sang like an angel, and for a few minutes Rafe felt almost at peace.
Then abruptly the singing stopped. As if on cue a wolf took up the refrain. Then another, and another. Rafe fed kindling into the fire and hunkered down to await morning. There were many places he would rather be tonight. One of them was in Angel's bed. Another was in that sweet warm place inside her body.
A weak sun broke over the mountains as the wagon lumbered into Canyon City late the following afternoon.
"Do you know the way to the mine?" Rafe asked as the wagon joined the others traveling down the muddy main street.
"All I know is that it's on Red Rock Canyon Road, not too far from Canyon City. I suppose we should ask someone."
"Do you have a place to live once you get there?"
"Father built a cabin. It's all mine now. Brady Baxter has his own cabin on the property. I have no idea in what condition I'll find it, but I'll manage."
"I'll park in front of the general store so you can purchase whatever you think you'll need to last until your next trip to town. Meanwhile, I'll inquire about directions. Do you have money?"
"I have enough to buy what I need. According to Mr. Goodman, Father's lawyer, there's funds in my name in the local bank."
Rafe pulled up at the general store and lifted Angela down onto the wooden sidewalk. "Have your supplies stowed inside the wagon. I won't be gone long."
He waited Angela enter the store, then ambled off down the street. He noted Lawyer Goodman's shingle above the barber shop and reminded himself to tell Angel. Then he spotted the assayers office and decided it was as good a place as any to ask directions to the Golden Angel.
He waited until the man ahead of him finished his business before approaching the desk.
"Can I help you, sir?" the assayer asked.
"I hope so. Can you give me directions to the Golden Angel mine?"
The assayer studied Rafe through narrowed lids. "The Golden Angel, you say? Do you have business out there?"
"I'm a friend of the owner."
"Brady Baxter?"
"No, the other owner."
"If you're talking about Simon Abbot, he died some weeks back. Terrible accident."
Rafe's patience hung by a slim thread. "Just tell me how to get to the mine."
The assayer assumed an aggrieved look. "Just trying to be friendly. Head north out of town. You'll find a trail heading up the mountain. Take the first track to the right off the main trail and you'll run right into the mine. Does Baxter know you're coming?"
"Don't know and don't care," Rafe said, heading for the exit. "Oh, by the way," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Do you happen to know the nature of Simon's accident?"
"Sure do, mister. A broken axle sent his wagon plunging off a narrow mountain trail. Tragic. Damn tragic."
"Have you heard anything about the mine being played out?"
"Played out? The Golden Angel? That's news to me, mister."
Rafe let himself out of the office, his mind awhirl. Obviously Brady Baxter was trying to pull the wool over Angel's eyes. It probably never occurred to him that Angel would doubt his word. Baxter was in for a big surprise.
* * *
Angela looked over the staples spread out on the counter and decided she had enough to last ten days or so.
"That's it, Mr. Dooley," she said. She had introduced herself and learned the proprietor's name soon after entering the store. "Add up the total. And if you'd be so kind, carry them out to my wagon."
"I can't believe Simon Abbot's daughter is really here," Dooley said, smiling at Angela. "Why, I remember your ma, girl, and she hated it here. Couldn't wait to go back East. Sorry about your p
a. He sure doted on you, though he hadn't seen you in years. Were he alive, he'd be one happy man right now. Are you staying long, Miss Abbot?"
"I haven't decided," Angela said, although in her heart she knew she'd never return to Wichita. There was nothing there for her.
Angela paid her tab and waited while Dooley loaded her purchases in the wagon. Then she climbed onto the wagon to awaited Rafe.
"About time you showed up, Angela. We waited for you in Pueblo. What happened?"
That voice! Oh, no. How did they get here so soon?
"What's wrong? Has the cat got your tongue? You were expecting us, weren't you? Chandler is mighty put out at you."
Angela stared down at her stepfather and his cohort as if they were something offensive, as indeed they were. "What are you doing here?"
Chandler stepped forward. "You left me standing at the altar, Angela. I was humiliated, to say the least. But I'm here now, and there's a Justice of the Peace all lined up to marry us. We'll go to the mine as husband and wife, a united front against the likes of Brady Baxter."
"I'm not marrying you, Anson," Angela contended. "You came all this way for nothing. You'd be well advised to turn around and go back to Kansas."
Chandler's features no longer appeared handsome as his face screwed up into a hideous frown. "I've come too far to be denied now. You'll do as your guardian says. Tell her, Dexter."
"Chandler is right, my dear. This marriage is for your own good. You need a keeper and Chandler is just the man to tame you. He won't stand for any of your nonsense."
He reached up and yanked her to the edge of the seat. Chandler lent a hand and together they hauled her to the ground.
"Come along quietly, Angela," Chandler warned. "No need to make a public spectacle of yourself."
Angela dug in her heels. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
Dexter gave her a rough shake. When she refused to budge, he hauled his arm back and slapped her. The blow sent her reeling against Chandler. Chandler caught her and lifted her into his arms. Stunned, Angela went limp as Chandler carried her off.
Rafe strode briskly toward the wagon, mulling over the information he'd gained from the assayer. If the Golden Angel was still producing, then Brady Baxter had lied to Angel. Obviously he never expected her to show up in Colorado to claim her inheritance. He probably assumed she was like her mother, who had a natural abhorrence for the wilderness. If Baxter thought that, the man didn't know his Angel.
Rafe's steps came to an abrupt halt, the blood freezing in his veins when he saw Angel hanging limply in Anson Chandler's arms. Desmond Dexter stood beside him, abetting the abduction. Adrenaline pumped through Rafe's veins as he took off at a run. He reached Dexter first, spun him around, and decked him.
The blow had been a vicious one. Blood spurted from Dexter's nose as he hit the ground.
"Put her down," Rafe barked as he took a threatening step in Chandler's direction.
"Who in the hell are you?" Chandler asked as he slowly lowered Angela to her feet and backed away.
"Never mind who I am," Rafe growled. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."
Holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose, Dexter rose unsteadily to his feet. "Now see here, mister, this is none of your concern. I don't know how you know my stepdaughter, but the association ends here. Mr. Chandler is her fiancé. She was so glad to see him she fainted. They were on their way to the Justice of the Peace to be married. If you don't back away, I'll summon the law."
Rafe thumbed his hat back and gave Dexter a look that would have turned milk sour. Then he held his hand out to Angela. "Come here, Angel." Skirting Dexter and Chandler, Angela slowly made her way to Rafe's side.
"I'm Angela's legal guardian," Dexter sputtered. "You have no right to interfere. I've arranged a good marriage for her and I won't see my plans thwarted by a ne'er-do-well. Anson Chandler has been more than patient with my stepdaughter, it's time she grew up and did what's expected of her."
Rafe sent Angela an inscrutable look. "Are you all right?"
Angela nodded.
He turned her face toward him, his mouth tightening when he saw the bruise forming on her cheek. "Who hit you?"
"It doesn't matter." She tugged on his arm. "Just get me away from here."
Rafe was like an immovable force. "Tell me, Angel."
She sighed. "Desmond."
Rafe whirled on Dexter, his face a mask of fury. "If you ever touch Angel again, I'll personally see to your punishment. Do you understand?"
"Devil take you!. I don't even know you. You have no right to threaten me."
"Let me introduce myself. I'm Angel's husband. Reverend Conrad married us in Ordway."
"You're lying!" Chandler shouted. "Who are you?"
"The name's Gentry. Rafe Gentry. If you don't believe we're married, ask Angel."
"What's this all about, Angela?" Dexter asked. "I know you, you'd never marry a common cowboy."
"You must not have known me as well as you thought," Angela charged. "Rafe isn't lying. We are indeed married, and we have the paper to prove it. Show it to him, Rafe."
Rafe dug in his jacket pocket, retrieved a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Dexter.
"It's not legal!" Dexter shouted, tossing the document back to Rafe. "I don't believe it. Angela is promised to Anson Chandler, and by God she's going to marry him!"
"Over my dead body."
"Maybe that can be arranged," Dexter said with sly innuendo.
"You aren't man enough," Rafe said with deadly calm. "Now if you'll excuse us, I'm going to see about a hotel room for the night. It's too late to start up to the mine."
"Where is Reverend Conrad?" Dexter asked pugnaciously.
"On his way back to Wichita," Rafe returned.
"You won't get away with this, Gentry. If you were married in Ordway, it shouldn't be too difficult to check out your story."
"Do whatever you have to do, Dexter, it won't change the fact that Angela and I are man and wife. I strongly suggest you return East and leave Angela alone."
Grasping Angela's elbow, he steered her toward the wagon.
Fuming in impotent rage, Dexter watched them walk away.
"Do you believe them?" Chandler asked.
Dexter spit out a curse. "I don't know what to believe but I'm damn well going to find out. You stay here and keep an eye on them while I backtrack to Ordway. Someone there should be able to tell me what I want to know without running down the preacher."
"Watching that cowboy with Angela isn't going to be easy," Chandler grumbled. "He took what should have been rightfully mine. Angela's going to pay for pulling that dirty trick on me."
"I'll get to the bottom of this, Chandler, and when it's sorted out, you'll have Angela and we'll both share her wealth. Perhaps we can even get rid of Baxter Brady so we'll have it all."
They shook hands and parted company.
"Why are we going to the hotel?" Angela asked as Rafe guided her away from the livery, where they had boarded the horses and wagon for the night.
"We don't know the trail and it's getting dark. We'll start out fresh in the morning."
"Very well, just be sure you rent two rooms."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Don't look now but we're being followed. Your former fiancé is tailing us. If we rent separate rooms he'll get suspicious. You'll just have to put up with my company tonight, Angel."
Alarm settled low in Angela's stomach. How much more of Rafe Gentry's company could she bear? The man was a distraction she didn't need. Granted he'd saved her from marrying Chandler, for she knew without a doubt that had Rafe not produced a marriage license she would have been dragged off and married against her will to a man she detested.
Worry gnawed at Angela as Rafe arranged for a room and signed the register. She didn't really panic until Rafe unlocked the door and ushered her into their room. She took one look at the bed and nearly bolted.
Would he expect her to sleep with him in that bed tonight?
Chapter Four
Rafe dropped his saddlebags and Angela's small carpetbag he was carrying on the floor. "I noticed a barber shop and bath house down the street." He rubbed his chin. "I could use a shave, haircut and bath. I imagine you'd like a hot bath, too. I'll order one up for you on my way out. Bolt the door behind me and don't open it to anyone but the chambermaid or me."
"A bath sounds wonderful," Angela said, relieved that Rafe was going to let her bathe in private.
"There's a dining room in the hotel. We'll eat when I return."
"Take your time," Angela said, waving him off. "I'm going to have a long soak."
Hoisting his saddlebags over his shoulder, Rafe let himself out the door. Angela bolted it behind him. A short time later a chambermaid and pot boys arrived with tub, hot water, soap and thirsty bath towel. Bolting the door behind them, she undressed quickly and sank into the steaming water. It was pure bliss. The first real bath she'd had since leaving Ordway.
Soap bubbles tickled her nose as she lathered her body, then her hair. After rinsing, she lay back and rested her head against the rim. There was an almost sensual quality to the soapy water sliding over her sensitive skin, something she would have never noticed before Rafe Gentry had awakened her body to passion, brief though it may have been.
She raised her leg and rested it on the side of the tub. Then, unthinkingly, her fingers slid up the inside of her slippery thigh, mimicking the movement of Rafe's hand that day in the wagon when she'd fallen into his lap. A tension began low in her belly as her fingers explored further, brushing the wreath of hair protecting her most private place. A cry slipped past her lips, shamed by a sense of forbidden pleasure.
Trembling, she jerked her hand away. She couldn't believe what was happening. This was wicked. Wanton. How could she, a pious church member and choir director, even think about self-gratification, much less attempt it. Her face flamed. It was all Rafe Gentry's fault. She'd known nothing of sexual matters, nothing of desire, until Rafe entered her life.
