by Connie Mason
"You suspect Chandler?"
"It's a distinct possibility."
Rafe's temper exploded. "Are you mad? If Chandler is a killer then you're in danger every minute you remain in his company. What if Chandler becomes suspicious of your questions and decides he doesn't need you? Your stepfather is your next of kin. He'd inherit the Golden Angel and everything else you own should you meet with an accident. Chandler would benefit through his deal with Dexter. God, how naive can you be?"
Angela looked properly chastised. "I never thought of it that way. I'll be more careful from now on. Don't worry about me, Rafe. Just take care of yourself."
She tried to push past him.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the mine. It can't be too far away. I want to be home before the miners show up for work."
When she tried to sidle past him, his hand came down hard on her shoulder. "You're not going anywhere, Angel."
She shrugged free of his grip. "How do you intend to stop me?"
"The same way I got you here, if need be."
Angela went still. "You'd abduct me? Where are you taking me?"
"I intend to clear my name if it's the last thing I do. I'm going back to Dodge City to confront Mr. Wingate, the banker who falsely accused me and my brothers of bank robbery. I'm gong to prove to you that I'm not an outlaw if it's the last thing I do."
"It just might be the last thing you do," Angela muttered bleakly. "I can't fault you for wanting to clear your name. What I don't understand is your reason for taking me with you. You'd be better served if I remain here and learn what I can from Anson about Baxter's death. He seems to be the only person besides you who can shed any light on the subject."
"No! I'm not leaving you behind this time. You're coming with me and that's final. If things work out we can solve that mystery together."
"I'm not going with you," Angela stubbornly affirmed.
"You have no choice. You're not going anywhere near the mine or Chandler unless I'm with you."
"This is totally unacceptable, Rafe. The Golden Angel is my responsibility; I can't leave it unattended."
"You're my responsibility, Angel. I risked a great deal to return for you and I'm not leaving without you."
Angela stared at him. He sounded like a jealous husband. "Is that all I am to you, Rafe? A responsibility? Do you take all your responsibilities seriously."
"I take my responsibility to you seriously, Angel. You're my wife. There are scores of people in Ordway who witnessed our marriage. We have been intimate. What if you're carrying my child?"
Angela's hands flew to her stomach. "That's not possible! I couldn't be..."
"It's very possible and you could be. Think about it while I bring your saddlebags inside the cave so you can dress."
"You packed my clothing?"
"And a few extras. Oh, I found some money in your drawer. I thought it might come in handy so I stuffed it in your saddlebags."
"You forgot one thing, Rafe."
His dark brows raised in askance.
"I'm not going anywhere with you. It's more important for me to remain here and work on Anson. You should be grateful that I'm willing to do this for you."
"You'll come with me if I have to hogtie you to your mare."
"You brought my mare?"
"She's outside with my gelding."
"I'll hate you if you insist on kidnapping me. I'll escape."
Rafe shrugged. "You're welcome to try. As for hating me, you made that clear when you accused me of killing Baxter."
"But I want to believe you, Rafe, that's why I need to pump Anson for answers."
"Sorry, Angel, it's too late for retrospection. I'll go fetch your saddlebags."
She'd never seen a man as stubborn as Rafe, Angel thought, fuming in impotent rage. Or hardheaded. Or overbearing and possessive. Her dour thoughts skid to a halt when Rafe returned with her saddlebags and dropped them at her feet.
"I'll ready the horses while you dress. I want to head out of here before daylight."
Staring at Rafe's departing back, Angel shivered, and not just from the damp cold permeating the cave. Rafe's rigid features reflected his determination to have his way in this. She had been shocked by Rafe's appearance when he was supposed to be far away. That he had resorted to abducting her didn't overly surprise her. He must have known she wouldn't leave the mine of her own free will. Even more shocking was the knowledge that Rafe considered her his responsibility.
She knew for a fact he hadn't wanted to be married, so why this sudden concern for her welfare? Without proof of a marriage he could have written it off as a bad memory. His concern appeared genuine but ill-advised. He had enough problems without taking on hers. Furthermore, she was trying to help clear his name. The stubborn man had no sense. Any other man would be happy to have her working in his behalf.
Seeing no way out of it, Angela shed her nightgown and donned her clothing. She was just pulling on her boots when Rafe returned.
"All ready, I see. You'll have to make do with jerky and a biscuit until it's safe to stop to eat."
"I can wait. I lost my appetite when I was dragged from my bed in the middle of the night. Are you sure you won't change your mind about taking me with you?"
"Not a chance," he said as he picked up the lantern, grasped her elbow, and guided her from the cave. Once outside, he doused the light and left the lantern just inside the entrance.
Before Angela could form a protest, Rafe tossed her atop her horse and grasped the reins.
"Give me my reins," Angela insisted.
"I'll keep them for the time being. Relax, Angel, and enjoy the ride."
Rafe knew Angel was angry but he couldn't trust her not to bolt if he gave her back the reins. Talk about stubborn. He'd never encountered a more stubborn woman. Obviously she hadn't a clue as to the kind of danger Chandler presented. Strange, he mused, he hadn't even considered Chandler as a possible suspect in Baxter's death. He'd run through a list of men who could have killed Baxter and Chandler's name hadn't even come up. But once Angel had pointed out the possibility out to him he could see where Chandler might benefit from Baxter's death.
It was obvious to him that Chandler intended to take advantage of Angel's vulnerability. With Rafe out of the picture and Baxter dead, Angel had no one to turn to. It must have occurred to Chandler that Dexter stood to inherit should something unforeseen happen to Angel. It nearly blew his mind to think that Angel had invited Chandler up to the mine. The woman was a walking calamity. She needed a keeper. If he hadn't returned, Lord only knows what mischief she could get herself into.
Determination to keep Angel safe stiffened his spine as he nudged his mount forward. Dodge City was but the first step toward his pilgrimage to clear his name.
Chapter Eleven
The sun was high in the sky when Rafe and Angela called a halt. He had found a secluded spot beside a bubbling creek protected by a cover of thick aspens.
"It's safe to rest now and have a bite to eat," Rafe said as he dismounted and hauled Angela down from her horse. He rummaged in a sack of supplies attached to his saddle and retrieved a battered coffeepot. "Fill the coffeepot after you've refreshed yourself. And don't forget to fill your canteen while you're at it. I'll build a fire and fry up some bacon."
Angela merely glared at him as she jerked the coffeepot out of his hands and marched away. Rafe chuckled to himself as he watched her strut to the creek. He'd forgotten to bring her hat and her cheeks were reddened from the sun. He suspected his Angel would drop from sunstroke before complaining to him. His smile broadened as he thoughtfully considered the enticing sway of her hips beneath her skirt.
Memory served him well as he recalled how her supple body arched beneath his hands as he stroked and caressed her. Her breasts were especially sensitive to his lips and hands. He grew hard just thinking about the way her nipples rose up to meet his mouth when he'd claimed them.
Rafe swallowed convulsively when he saw
Angel kneel at the edge of the brook, her bottom high in the air, and splash water over her face and down the front of her blouse. His throbbing erection pushed against the confines of her trousers; he was so close to tossing Angel on her back and making violent love to her right there on the hard ground that he had to turn away. He knew exactly how his Angel would react to his ardor. In her present frame of mind he suspected she would reject his amorous overtures.
Stifling a groan, he watched her walk toward a clump of bushes before turning back to the task at hand. When the fire was blazing well, he sought privacy behind some trees, then washed up in the stream. When he returned, he sliced bacon and fried it in a skillet he'd brought forth from the same place he'd found the coffeepot. Angela returned with the coffeepot and set it to boiling while Rafe worked over the fire.
"There's stale biscuits in that gunnysack," Rafe said. "Will they do?"
"If they came from my kitchen they're not all that stale," Angela sniffed. "I made them just yesterday."
When the coffee was done, they sat on the ground to eat the meager fare. Afterward, Angela washed up the tin plates and bent silverware while Rafe repacked everything. The atmosphere was decidedly chilly when Rafe plucked off his hat and placed it on Angela's head.
"What's that for?"
"I forgot your hat. I don't want you getting sunstroke, or burning that delicate skin of yours."
"What about you?"
"My skin is already sun-darkened and a lot thicker than yours. I'll be fine. Keep the hat, I'll buy you another the first small town we come to."
He helped her mount, snatched up her reins, and leaped aboard his gelding.
"I'm perfectly capable of handling my own reins," Angela protested, trying to jerk them out of his hands.
"Will you promise not to bolt back to the mine?"
Her lips thinned. "I can't promise that, Rafe Gentry, and you know it."
"Then I'll keep the reins until turning back is no longer an option," Rafe said as he kneed his horse forward. "We'll camp tonight near Pueblo and get an early start in the morning. I want to pass through town before the townspeople begin stirring."
Those were the last words spoken the remainder of the long day. When the sun sank below the western horizon and purple shadows crept along the ground, Rafe found a perfect camping spot beside a shallow river they had just crossed. The outcropping of rock beneath a bluff provided shelter from both the weather and predators, should they need it.
"You can bathe, if you like, while I take care of the horses," Rafe said, gesturing toward the river. "Don't dally or wander too far. You'll find soap and towels in your saddlebags."
Angela merely nodded as she retrieved the necessary items from her saddlebags.
"How long are you going to continue this silent treatment?" Rafe asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "It gets mighty lonesome out here on the prairie without the sound of a human voice."
"I'm still angry with you, Rafe Gentry. You're arrogant, manipulative and overbearing. You have no right to force me to your will."
"Force you to my will? If I really wanted to force you to my will I'd tear off your clothes and pull you beneath me. Then I'd make love to you until we were both too exhausted to move."
Angela's mouth dropped open. She backed away. "I...I..." Words failed her as she whirled on her heel and fled to the river. She didn't slow down until she was certain Rafe wasn't following her. Gulping huge draughts of air, she dropped to her knees beside the river and waited for her breath to return.
Rafe's evocative words created an image indelibly etched upon her brain. She shook her head but the vision refused to be dislodged. In her mind's eye she pictured Rafe, naked, muscles rippling across his chest and back, his sturdy legs braced, his sex rising long and hard between his thighs. She covered her face with her hands and groaned; the thought of him thrusting into her hot center flamed her cheeks and she splashed them with cool water.
Desperately wanting a bath but unwilling to undress where Rafe could see her, she walked along the bank, seeking a private spot. A bend in the river provided the shelter she sought, a place where she couldn't be seen from the campsite. After a furtive glance over her shoulder, Angela stripped off all her clothing but for her shift and poked a toe into the water. It felt delightfully cool after a hot day in the saddle and with soap in hand she waded out until water lapped at her waist.
Bending forward, she washed and rinsed her hair, twice, not satisfied until it felt free of grit and dust. After waging a silent debate in which prudence lost, she pulled off her shift and tossed it onto the bank. Then she soaped the rest of her body and sat down on the gravely bottom to let the gentle current flow over her. She dallied so long in the refreshing water she lost all track of time. If her stomach wasn't growling she could have remained immersed for hours.
Angela was jerked from her reverie when she heard a faint sound in the distance. A twig snapping? Panic rose like a hard knot inside her. The noise could be nothing. Or it could be Indians. Or wild animals coming down to the river to quench their thirst. Either way she could be in grave danger. She glanced longingly at her clothing neatly folded on the riverbank. What a time to be caught naked.
Then she saw him, standing motionless on the opposite bank. The Indian's squat, muscular body was scantily garbed in breachclout and war paint. A bow hung from his brown fingers. She held her breath as his dark, unwavering gaze found her. She wanted to scream but couldn't find her voice.
Willing her legs to move, she slowly backed toward the bank. The Indian watched her, his intense scrutiny as frightening as it was nerve-wracking.
"Don't make any sudden moves."
Incredible joy surged through Angela when she saw Rafe standing on the riverbank. Never had she been so glad to see anyone in her life. Then her heart sank when she realized he wasn't wearing his gunbelt.
"What shall I do?" Angela asked shakily.
"He may not be alone. He could be with a war party camped nearby."
Angela glanced back at the Indian and quavered beneath his intense scrutiny. "Maybe he's never seen a white woman before."
"Not a naked one, I'd wager," Rafe said drolly.
"This is no time for levity, Rafe Gentry."
"I'm not being funny, Angel. I'm trying to think of the best way to get us out of here with our skin intact. Hopefully darkness will work in our favor."
Angela began to shiver. The shadows had deepened and the night air was raising goosebumps on her skin. "H...how long do I have to stay in here?"
Rafe glanced at the Indian. "Not much longer. I think he's alone. Or too far from his party to summon them. He's probably as surprised to see us as we are to see him. Start walking toward me," he instructed.
"I'm naked."
"That can't be helped. Now, Angel! Start moving."
Angela moved stiffly, concentrating on placing one foot before the other. Indians had killed Reverend Conrad and his wife. Were she and Rafe to be their next victims? Swallowing her fear, she waded toward Rafe, silently blessing encroaching darkness. Nevertheless, she had to force herself to keep walking.
The water fell away from her hips, her waist, her knees. It was ankle deep now and she had nearly reached the place where Rafe waited. Moments later she was out of the water, reaching for the towel Rafe held out to her.
"Go back to camp. Now," Rafe ordered. "I'll bring your clothing." His gaze never left the silent Indian standing on the opposite shore.
Suddenly the Indian gave a bloodcurdling yell and splashed into the river.
"He's coming!" Angela warned on a note of panic.
"Go!" Rafe shouted. "I'll handle this."
Angela turned and ran, ignoring the sharp sticks and briars bruising the tender soles of her feet. She didn't want to leave Rafe alone with the Indian but he had given her no choice.
Once back at their campsite, she pulled clean clothing from her saddlebags and dressed quickly. Then she crouched beside the campfire, imagining all manner of horrible
things. She didn't move until suspense got the best of her. Driven by fear for Rafe, she searched for his guns and spied his holster lying beside his saddlebags. Carefully she lifted out one gun. Disregarding her bloodied feet, she retraced her steps back to the river. She didn't know much about guns but she knew she could fire one to save Rafe's life.
She came to a skidding halt when she spied Rafe locked in mortal combat with the Indian. Skidding to a halt, she raised the pistol and tried to get the Indian in her sights, but they were so closely entwined that she couldn't be sure she wouldn't shoot Rafe. In the meager light of the quarter moon, Angela could tell little about the battle, except that it was a fierce one. Her heart nearly stopped when an errant moonbeam reflected off the shiny surface of a knife.
Then the men were rolling on the ground, making identification even more difficult. Angela lowered the pistol to her side, unable to shoot without shooting Rafe. She had no idea she was sobbing until she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. This was all her fault. Had she not strayed so far from their campsite, or lingered overlong in the water, this would have never happened.
A strangled sound escaped her throat when she saw the blade slash downward. Uncertain who held the knife, Angela feared the worst. Both men suddenly went still, as if frozen in time; the panting and fierce sounds of battle had ceased. Angela's breath hitched. She saw a movement; one man rose up from the ground. The breath she'd been holding came out in a loud whoosh.
"Rafe! Thank God!"
Rafe crouched over the dead Indian, struggling to bring enough air into his lungs to speak. He tried to frown at Angel, to show his displeasure at her for disobeying him, but he couldn't find the energy. The Indian had been incredibly strong, and even more determined to have Angel. He straightened finally and opened his arms to receive Angel as she rushed into them.
"Rafe! Oh, Rafe, I thought...I feared...thank God you're all right."
He hugged her close. "I told you to stay at the campsite," he said with a gruffness that belied his relief at finding her safe. He spied his gun dangling from her fingers and stifled a groan. "I hope you didn't for one second consider firing that."
