by Connie Mason
"I'm going to change your mind, Angela," Chandler promised, leaning so close Angela felt a compelling urge to slap his face. Instead, she backed away.
"You need a man to show you the error of your ways, my dear," Chandler continued smoothly. "A woman is no substitute for a man no matter how smart or accomplished she thinks she may be. I'm determined to become your husband and take care of you."
Angela felt like laughing in his face. "I don't need a man to show me anything, much less the error of my ways. All I require of you is your cooperation. You can stay as long as you keep men up here working the mine. If I were you, I'd learn all I could about mining. You don't want the miners thinking they're taking orders from a fraud."
Chandler's smile turned downward into a scowl. "Look who's calling the pot black. You have no room to talk. You married a stranger, an outlaw, simply to save him from a hangman, Sister Angela. Don't worry, I'll do my job, and one day you'll realize I'm the kind of man you need. Meanwhile, I'll move my things into Baxter's cabin, unless," he added slyly, "you invite me to share your bed."
Preferring not to alienate him before she had the information she sought, Angela held her tongue, but her eyes blazed defiance. "You're welcome to Baxter's cabin, Anson, but don't push your luck."
Whirling on her heel, head held high, she left him standing with a half smile hanging on the corner of his lips. Angela knew what he wanted to happen and it pleased her no end to know it never would.
Several days passed. The mining operation seemed to be going well, but Angela's subtle hints about Chandler's knowledge of Baxter's death brought only frustration.
One evening Chandler stopped by Angela's cabin to report on a new tunnel just opened. He made himself at home on the battered sofa while he gave his report. While he rattled on, Angela searched her mind for ways to broach the subject of Baxter again without raising Chandler's suspicion.
When he finished his report and appeared in no hurry to leave, Angela rushed into the void. "In the short time you've been here you've done a credible job, Anson."
Chandler appeared pleased by her praise. "I'm making you wealthier than Midas, my dear."
"The foreman is experienced, and that helps," Angela said. "Brady knew what he was doing when he hired Jim Cady."
"Baxter, bah!" Chandler scoffed. "I was livid when I learned when you had married him, but his sudden death proved fortunate for both of us, eh?" He gave her a smug grin. "A stroke of luck, really. If I hadn't been here and seen... Well, never mind. Good riddance to both Baxter and Gentry, I say. They were in my way."
Angela pretended confusion. "I don't know what you're hinting at, Anson. I told the sheriff that Rafe wasn't at the mine the night Brady was killed."
"We both knew better, don't we, Angela?"
Angela opened her mouth to offer a protest but Chandler forestalled her. "No, don't lie. Don't say anything. Just forget this conversation took place. The less you know about Baxter's death the better off you'll be."
"What do you know about Brady's death, Anson? You can tell me. I liked Brady no better than you did. We married for convenience's sake. I consider it a blessing that he...died on our wedding night. I'm just not convinced Rafe killed him."
Chandler sent her a sharp look. "You're too curious for your own good. I suggest you turn your thoughts in another direction. It's healthier to believe Gentry killed Baxter. What's another murder to a man like him?"
His thinly veiled threat gave her pause for thought. She knew she was on the right track now. "It's late, you'd better leave," Angela said, rising. Chandler's remarks tonight were solid proof that he knew more than he was letting on about Baxter's death.
Chandler stood, surprising Angela when he grasped her arm and swung her around to face him. "I don't have to leave. We both know you're no longer a virgin; you have no need to pretend coyness with me. If you need some loving, I can give you what you're craving."
"You assume too much," Angela retorted. "I don't need a thing from you, Anson Chandler."
He stood his ground, refusing to be dislodged as she tried to free herself. His arm snaked around her waist, bringing her hard against him, making escape impossible. When she tried to turn her head aside, he grasped her chin and held it in place for his kiss. His mouth slammed down on hers. She tasted blood. When he tried to deepen the kiss, Angela's anger soared. Mustering her strength, she bit down hard on his tongue. His response was immediate and gratifying.
Howling like a banshee, he pushed Angela away, his eyes narrowed in fury. "What in the hell was that for?"
"For taking liberties," Angela responded, backing away and wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand.
"A kiss is the least you owe me for providing you with workers. I can leave and take them with me," he threatened. "They'd never work for a woman."
Angela couldn't allow that to happen. But kissing Anson was repugnant to her. "Perhaps when I know you better..." she hedged.
"You bedded Gentry without knowing a damn thing about him. I'm not hard to look at, what do you have against me."
"You're a handsome man, Anson," Angela said, choking on the words. "Perhaps, when you decide to trust me, we can become closer."
His eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Angela sent him an inscrutable look. "Don't you? I think you know more about Baxter's death than you're letting on. Please leave now. It's late and I wish to retire."
Chandler appeared stunned by Angela's words as she pushed him out the door and locked it behind him. Once Chandler was gone, she leaned against the panel, her relief palpable as she considered everything Chandler had revealed about Baxter's death. In time, she expected to wring every last detail from him.
Moving away from the door and into the bedroom, Angela's mind turned to Rafe, and the angry words they had exchanged before he lit out. She knew now she had been wrong to accuse him of murder. At the time the accusation seemed reasonable, even though she wasn't thinking reasonably right then. Now she knew better. If what she suspected was true, she had to prove Chandler was involved in Baxter's murder before Rafe was off the hook.
She owed Rafe that much for accusing him of a crime without sufficient proof. She should ride into town tomorrow and talk to Mr. Goodman about it, she decided. Even if she never saw Rafe again she'd have the satisfaction of knowing she'd removed one charge from his roster of crimes. Only a miracle would clear Rafe of all the crimes he was supposed to have committed.
Angela undressed quickly, donned her nightgown and slid into bed. Almost reverently she touched the pillow next to her, recalling the man who had recently lain beside her. Rafe Gentry. Her husband. A man comparable to none. Would she ever see him again? Would he ever forgive her for accusing him unjustly? Probably not. Rafe wasn't a forgiving kind of man.
She sighed. How could she not think Rafe guilty when he'd been the last person to see Baxter alive? But now that another suspect had entered the picture, her belief in Rafe's innocence had been restored and she felt like such a fool for accusing him unjustly.
Rafe wasn't as far away as Angela suspected. No matter what he'd told her, no matter how dangerous it was for him to linger in the area, Rafe couldn't make himself to ride away from Angel. And how right he'd been. He'd seen more than enough to know that Angel was doing what Angel did best...getting into trouble.
For the past several days Rafe had been holed up in the cave above the mine, the same cave he'd used before. He'd easily lost the posse in the mountains, then backtracked, erasing his tracks by tying a thick branch to his saddle.
Rafe spent his idle time keeping a close watch on Angel and the activity taking place at the mine. Concealing himself behind bushes above the mine, Rafe noted that the Golden Angel was in full production. He recognized Jim Cady and a few others who had worked for Baxter, but what had shocked him utterly was seeing Anson Chandler strutting about as if he owned the place.
From what little he could gather, it appeared as if Angel an
d Chandler were on good terms, and that Chandler was taking over as boss. What was Angel thinking? he fumed. How could she flit from man to man as easily as changing her blouse? First Baxter and now Chandler. Was there a side to Angel he didn't know? He'd been right to return, Rafe thought. It didn't matter that she thought him a murderer, he couldn't let a woman as helpless as his Angel fend for herself. Seeing Chandler at the Golden Angel just proved his point.
Rafe was watching from his vantage point above the mine when he saw Chandler follow Angel inside her cabin after the workers had departed for the night. Rage roiled inside him. She was like an innocent babe when it came to men. She had married him, hadn't she? Which more than proved his point.
When Chandler failed to leave right away, Rafe grew wild with jealousy. Ignoring the danger, he climbed down the hillside and crept toward the cabin. Blending into the purple shadows, he crouched beneath a window. He paused a moment to catch his breath, then he lifted his head to peer into the room. What he saw made him want to howl in outrage.
His Angel was in Chandler's arms, kissing him. He recalled the countless times she'd professed to hate Chandler and he wanted to burst into the cabin and tear her out of Chandler's arms. Damn, damn, damn! He had to do something to save his fickle Angel from doing something she'd regret later.
Having seen all he cared to see, Rafe dropped down below the sill, his mind in a turmoil. Angel was too vulnerable to be left on her own and he felt his decision to return had been vindicated when he'd found her involved in a new kind of danger. He had to do something, but what? She had already found him guilty of murder, so it didn't matter what he did now, he supposed.
Then it came to him. She might hate him for it but he couldn't leave her to Chandler's mercy. Angel was an extremely wealthy woman. Chandler wanted her and wouldn't hesitate to take her against her will. Then it came to him. Rafe knew exactly what he would do, where he would go as he waited for Chandler to leave.
Angela fell asleep hugging Rafe's pillow. Though she'd washed the bed linen since he'd left, she imagined she could still smell his musky scent permeating the material. She was sleeping so peacefully she didn't hear the sound of glass breaking in the spare bedroom, or the rasping noise of a window being raised to admit a rather large man. She slept blissfully on, unaware until a blanket was thrown over her head and she felt strong arms pick her up and carry her away.
Her wits returned slowly. She was being abducted from her bed! By whom? Chandler? That didn't make sense. She opened her mouth to protest but her voice was muffled by the blanket. Her words were pitifully garbled. Then she felt night air cooling parts of her body not covered by the blanket and panic rose inside her.
Kicking and flailing didn't work. The arms holding her were too strong, the blanket too tightly confining. Then the slant of the land changed and Angela realized her abductor was climbing steadily upward. She managed to grunt out a few words of outrage but they appeared to bounce off the man. After what seemed like hours but in reality was only thirty minutes, she was lowered to the ground. Immediately she tried to fight her way out of the blanket, but her captor was too fast for her. With a few deft strokes he tied the blanket in place around her body and bound her ankles so she couldn't hobble off. She was helpless, totally at her abductor's mercy.
Rafe glanced down at Angel, satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere while he returned to the cabin for her clothing and a horse. "I'll be back," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. Then he turned and strode out of the cave and into the dark night.
All was quiet at the mine when Rafe returned. This time he entered the cabin by the front door and lit a lantern inside Angel's bedroom. He found her saddlebags and hastily stuffed clothing into them. After a quick look around, he added a hairbrush, towels, soap and a washcloth. He was rummaging around in a drawer for some ribbons to bind her long, blond hair back from her face when he came across a small stack of gold coins and a wad of bills.
Since he had no money of his own, and aware that they would need more food than he could carry away from the kitchen, he pushed the money down into one of the pockets of the saddlebags. Then he rolled two blankets into a bedroll and carried everything into the kitchen, where he emptied a gunny sack that held sticks of kindling for the stove and filled it with bacon, canned goods, beans, crackers, coffee, salt, flour, and anything else he thought they might need in the way of food. Then he doused the light, carrying the lantern with him when he left the cabin.
Rafe made his way to the corral, keeping well within the shadows as he passed Chandler's cabin. He left the saddlebags, lantern, gunnysack and bedroll in the tack house while he found a saddle and carried it out to the corral. The horses whinnied a greeting when Rafe walked into the enclosure and Rafe prayed that Chandler wasn't a light sleeper. He spotted Angel's mare immediately and used his gentlest voice to soothe her as he tossed the saddle over her back and fastened the straps.
When he finished he retrieved the things he'd left in the tack house, threw the saddlebags over the mare's withers and attached the gunny sack to the saddle horn. Then he led the horse from the enclosure, past the cabins, and up the hillside to the cave where Angel waited. Rafe wasn't looking forward to facing Angel's wrath when she learned he had abducted her. Somehow he had to make her understand that it was for her own good.
Angela struggled within the suffocating folds of the blanket until exhaustion forced her to stop. How could this be happening to her? Who had abducted her and why? She couldn't imagine Anson doing such a thing for he had nothing to gain by it. Did she have unknown enemies?
For lack of a better solution, Angela screamed. The sound, muffled by the blanket, bounced off unseen walls and echoed back to her. She shivered, letting her imagination run wild. Her keen senses told her a few things, none of them comforting. The ground beneath her was damp and the air around her fetid and cool. Her abductor was a large man who carried her uphill with ease. Regrettably, nothing else made sense to her befuddled mind.
Locked in darkness, the passage of time meant little to Angela. Minutes or hours could have passed before she heard footsteps approaching. Through the fibers of the blanket she perceived light. Her captor was carrying a lantern.
"Who are you?" Angela cried. Though her words were muffled, she knew he understood her. "Why have you done this to me?"
She heard a sigh. The sound reverberated through her brain, setting off alarm bells in her head. "Release me!"
She felt his hands on her ankles, freeing them, felt the rope holding the blanket in place around her body fall away. She drew in a sustaining breath as her shroud was whisked away. She blinked and gazed up into the stoic face of her captor.
"You!"
"Hello, Angel."
"Damn you, Rafe Gentry! You scared ten years off my life." She glanced around and realized she was inside a cave. "What's this all about? What are you doing here?"
"I'm happy to hear you're glad to see me," he said with a hint of sarcasm.
"If you recall, we didn't part on the best of terms."
"If you recall, you told me you wanted nothing to do with Chandler, yet he's here, acting as if he owns both you and the mine."
Angela gaped at him. "How do you know that?"
"I know more than you think. Did you enjoy his kiss?"
Angela blanched. "You saw that?"
"Fickle bitch," Rafe muttered beneath his breath. "Don't you realize you're playing with fire? Chandler will stop at nothing to get to your money. He's already wormed his way into your good graces."
"You don't know a darn thing, Rafe Gentry. Anson kissed me, I didn't kiss him," she said defensively.
His voice held a note of derision. "There's a difference? What's Chandler doing at the mine?"
"It seems that Western men are more prejudiced against women than I thought. I couldn't find men willing to work for a woman. Anson offered to help out. He promised to bring all the workers I needed and suggested that we pretend to be engaged to be married."
Ra
fe gave a snort of laughter. "Pretend? You two looked pretty damn chummy to me."
"You don't understand," Angela tried to explain. "I went along with Anson's suggestion for your sake."
Rafe sent her a stunned look. "For me! You're right, I don't understand."
"Anson said something that led me to believe he knew more about Baxter's death than he should. I invited him out here to find out what he knows."
His voice held a cynical note. "Are you telling me you now believe I'm innocent? That I didn't kill Baxter?"
"I'm telling you I'm willing to do whatever it takes to learn the truth." Her voice softened. "I'd like nothing better than to prove you innocent, Rafe."
"Forget it, Angel. Either you believe in me or you don't."
Men! Angela thought. Why did they have to be so stubborn? She tried to stand. Her legs were wobbly and she tottered forward. Rafe reached out to steady her.
"If you're finished with your games, Rafe Gentry, I'd like to return to my cabin now."
"You're not going anywhere, Angel. You're not thinking coherently. You're headed for a heap of trouble. As your husband, I'm duty bound to protect you."
Astounded, Angela asked, "You returned to protect me? After the angry words we exchanged?"
"Why else would I stick around? I know you don't trust me, that you think I'm a killer, but that doesn't lessen my responsibility regarding your safety."
Angela's chin notched upward. "I can take care of myself. Did you hear nothing I said? I'm trying to prove your innocence. You should be grateful."
"Grateful that you need proof of my innocence? My word alone should be enough."
"You forget," Angela reminded him, "I'm not the only one requiring proof. What about the sheriff? If I can prove someone else killed Baxter, you're name will be cleared."
