by Connie Mason
"Perhaps he didn't leave willingly," Rafe suggested.
"You don't think he..."
A commotion at the front door halted her in mid-sentence.
"It's Anson," Angela hissed.
Anson's voice, accompanied by loud pounding reverberated through the cabin.
"I came to apologize, Angela," Anson shouted through the door. "I wasn't myself yesterday. Open up. Give me another chance to prove I can be the kind of man you need."
"I'm not dressed, Anson," Angela called back.
"I'll wait, Angela. I want to apologize to your face."
"What shall I do?" Angela whispered.
"Stall him. Tell him anything."
"Angela, please. I promise to be on my best behavior," Chandler whined.
Angela moved to the door. "Come back later, Anson, after I've made myself presentable."
"You're stalling."
"I swear I'm not. Besides, how do I know you'll behave if I let you in?"
"You have my word. Give me a chance to persuade you that marrying me is best for both you and the Golden Angel. I'll court you until your divorce is granted and I'll not force you, if that's what's worrying you. I never realized you could be so fierce. I was foolish to underestimate your determination."
"Tell him you'll hear him out when he returns, but he should give you enough time to dress and eat breakfast," Rafe whispered.
Angela relayed the message.
"If you insist," came Anson's petulant reply.
"Don't forget," Angela added, "I still have my gun and know how to use it."
"I won't forget," Anson mumbled.
'He's gone," Angela said, moving away from the door. "I'll build up the fire and fix us something to eat. "We can decide what to do while we're eating."
Angela ate in the kitchen then prepared a tray for Rafe. While he ate, she fetched a shirt and pair of trousers that had belonged to her father. She cut off the right leg to accommodate the splint and helped him to dress.
"I know what I have to do," Rafe said after he drained the last drop of coffee from his cup.
Angela liked neither his grim tone nor the way his mouth tautened. "What is that?"
"When you let Chandler inside I'm going to meet him with both guns drawn and order him off the property."
"What if he refuses?"
"That's his problem," Rafe said tersely. "I'll do what I have to do to make sure he doesn't bother you again. I can shoot straight even if I can't walk."
"No! If you kill Anson we'll have no way to prove your innocence. There's got to be another way."
"There's no other way, Angel."
"I won't let you be carted off to jail again."
Rafe smiled wearily. "I'm tired of running, Angel. Mr. Goodman is a capable lawyer, I'll ask him to defend me. It's a chance I have to take in order to protect you from Chandler."
Angela's mouth turned downward. There was no way she was going to allow Rafe to act unwisely or rot jail for a murder he didn't commit. She'd think of something, she had to.
Chapter Nineteen
Angela was ready when Chandler knocked on the door a short time later. When she'd returned to the kitchen to fetch Rafe another cup of coffee she added a liberal dose of laudanum. He'd fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence. She knew he'd be livid when he awakened but it was the only way she knew how to keep him from killing someone or getting killed himself.
"Are you going to let me in, Angela?" Chandler called through the closed door.
"Only if you behave," Angela returned.
"I said I would."
Angela cast an anxious glance at the closed bedroom door and prayed that she'd given Rafe enough laudanum to keep him from interfering.
"Very well."
She patted her pocket to reassure herself that her gun was still there and opened the door to admit Chandler. At this point she had no idea what she intended to do, but anything was better than allowing a confrontation between Anson and Rafe.
"It's about time," Chandler complained as he strode through the open door.
"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Angela asked.
"Don't pretend with me, my dear. You're up here all alone; you need someone to protect you, someone who can direct the miners at their work. You know from experience how reluctant they are to work for a woman. There's enough wealth for both of us to share. Our marriage can be a positive step for both of us."
"I'm still married to Rafe."
He pulled her against him. "I can wait for the ceremony. Getting you with child is the first step in cementing our alliance."
Angela wrested free and took an involuntary step backward. "Touch me and you're a dead man."
Chandler stepped back. "Do you still have that blasted gun?"
"I wouldn't have let you inside if I wasn't armed. Sit down, let's discuss this like civilized people."
"I don't feel civilized," Chandler grumbled as he dropped down into the nearest chair. "You can't begin to know the things I've done to get what I want."
Angela's heart nearly stopped. Finally! Finally an opening to delve into the truth.
"Why don't you tell me what you've done, Anson," Angela said sweetly. "Maybe I'd appreciate you more if I knew what you'd done to achieve your goal. Strong men intrigue me."
Chandler gave her a suspicious glance, but Angela knew she'd struck a nerve when he preened for her benefit.
"You think I'm a strong man? Funny you never mentioned it before."
"Indeed I do. You've never given up on me, that's more than I can say about Rafe Gentry. Tell me, Anson," she whispered seductively, "tell me something that will convince me that you're not a sniveling coward."
Chandler bristled indignantly. "Sniveling coward! You wouldn't call me that if you only knew."
"Knew what?" Angela taunted. Even if no one else heard Anson's confession her word should count for something.
Anson stared at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust her sudden interest in him. "Why should I trust you?"
"Why not? We're alone. No one can hear what you say. Besides, it might influence me in your behalf."
While Angela and Chandler bandied words, two riders approached the mine. They reined in a short distance down the road in order to assess the situation.
"You'd better know what you're talking about," Sheriff Diller said to his much older companion. "Are you certain Mrs. Gentry is in danger?"
"As sure as I am of sitting here on this horse," Lawyer Goodman averred. "Her message yesterday came to me loud and clear. Thank God the storm abated and the roads weren't in as bad a shape as we thought."
"Hmmm," Diller said, stroking his chin. "If you're right, I don't want to go busting in there and endangering the woman's life. Let's tie our horses here and walk the rest of the way. That way we can nosy around without raising attention to ourselves."
"Good idea," Goodman said, dismounting. "There is plenty of cover around the site if we decide to take a look around without being seen."
"You did say Mrs. Gentry was alone out here with Anson Chandler, didn't you?"
"I did," Goodman said. "I told you what he said about not waiting for a marriage ceremony to get a baby on Angela. And you are aware, of course, that Angela believes Chandler killed Brady Baxter. I truly believe Chandler presents a grave danger to Angela."
"Then we'd best find out what's going on," Diller said. "Let's go."
Frustration gnawed at Angela. Anson was leaning close, preparing to confide in her, and as luck would have it, no one was around to hear his confession. If only... She glanced out the window to contemplate her problem and started violently when she glimpsed two faces pressed against the pane. Sheriff Diller and Mr. Goodman! Fearing Anson would see the same thing she had, she jumped to her feet and walked toward the kitchen, away from the window.
"Where are you going?" Chandler asked, turning to follow her. "I thought you wanted to hear what I had to say.?
"I just made fresh coffee," Angela i
mprovised. "I thought you might like some before we have our talk."
"Why thank you, Angela, coffee sounds wonderful. My own tastes like mud." His brow furrowed. "You're not going to try to leave through the back door, are you?"
"No, I have no intention of walking away from you. I'm more than anxious for you to convince me you're not a coward." She glanced toward the window, relieved to note the faces had disappeared. "I'll be right back."
Chandler appeared lost in thought as Angela ducked into the kitchen. She made a beeline for the back door and prayed it wouldn't squeak as she cracked it open. Her prayers were more than answered when the sheriff and Goodman slipped inside. She motioned for silence and nodded her head toward the parlor.
"Angela, are you still there?"
Chandler's voice sounded petulant and Angela was quick to answer. "I'm still here, Anson." She carefully poured out two cups of coffee. "Do you like sugar in your coffee?"
"Two spoons. Whatever is keeping you?"
"I'll be there directly."
"Are you in danger?" the sheriff asked in a hushed voice.
"Stand by the door and listen," Angela whispered as she picked up the coffee cups and headed out the door.
"Ah, there you are," Chandler said. "I was just about to come after you." He accepted the cup from her hand and took a cautious sip of the hot liquid. "Now, where were we?"
"You were just about to tell me some of the things you did on my behalf. I need to know how strong and smart you really are, Anson."
"Smarter than Brady Baxter," Chandler snorted. "I know why you married him, you know. I followed you and Baxter home after that farce of a wedding ceremony. I suspected funny business was afoot the moment I heard you had married that man. I followed you and Baxter into the mine and heard everything."
"You know Brady overpowered Rafe, tied him up and dragged him into the mine?" Angela asked. "You know that he threatened to kill Rafe if I didn't marry him?"
"All that and more," Chandler said smugly. "I saw you knock Baxter unconscious, and I saw you and Gentry tie him up and leave the mine together."
"You killed Brady!" Angela blasted. Though she'd expected it all along, it still came as a shock to hear him talk about it so calmly.
"Yes, and wasn't that smart of me? I knew Gentry would be blamed, and that he'd have no choice but to flee and leave you to me. But you already know that, don't you?"
"I suspected it but had no proof," Angela said.
"You do now because I'm telling you. I'm a strong man, Angela. Strong enough to get rid of the competition."
"I suppose one could consider murdering a helpless man a show of strength," Angela said with scathing sarcasm. Chandler seemed oblivious to her derision.
"Yes, well, you have to admit I rid you of a nuisance. Two, if you count Gentry. Three, if you include Dexter."
Angela was quick to pick up on Chandler's remark. "What about Desmond? How did you get him to leave?"
Chandler gave a snort of laughter. "I heard you talking with Dexter. I knew you suspected me of Baxter's murder and I also heard you offer him a large amount of money to tell the sheriff about my involvement in Baxter's murder. I couldn't allow that to happen. I believed that you'd understand why I did it what I did once I explained things to you, so I took measures to ensure Dexter's silence."
"You offered him more money?" Angela asked, not sure where this was leading. Dexter's disappearance hadn't been fully explained and she hadn't really given it all that much thought. But Chandler had raised a subject that begged for clarification.
"As if I had enough money to outbid you for his loyalty," Chandler scoffed.
Suddenly it all became very clear to Angela. "My God, you killed Desmond!"
"He was a fool. A weak spoke in an otherwise flawless plan to make us both rich. I'm not Dexter's bootlicker like you thought I was. Now you know everything. What I want now is your word that you'll to marry me when you're free. And don't think to use my 'confession' against me for I'll deny it."
Suddenly the bedroom door crashed open and Rafe burst through, balancing himself on one leg. How he had found the strength to drag himself out of bed in his drugged state was beyond Angela, but she could tell by his white face and pained expression that he was suffering untold agony. He leaned against the doorjamb, a gun held firmly in one hand while he balanced himself with the other.
"I heard, Chandler. Every damn word."
Angela started to go to Rafe but Chandler grabbed her around the neck and produced a gun from somewhere on his person. "Well, well, if it isn't Rafe Gentry," Chandler sneered. "What ill wind blew you to the Golden Angel?"
"Release Angel and move away from her," Rafe demanded.
"Not on your life," Chandler responded, pressing his gun more firmly against Angela's neck.
"You won't get away with this," Rafe threatened. "You killed two people in cold blood."
Chandler gave a mirthless laugh. "Do you truly believe the law will believe you? You're the outlaw, Gentry, not me."
Suddenly Lawyer Goodman stepped from the kitchen into the parlor. Angela waited for Sheriff Diller to appear, and when he didn't, she wondered what had happened to him.
"I also heard everything, Chandler," Goodman said. "You may as well give up and turn yourself over to the law."
"What in the hell are you doing here, old man?" Chandler growled. "I thought I saw the last of you yesterday."
"Surely you didn't think I believed that cock and bull story about you and Angela getting married, did you? Your days of freedom are over."
"Like hell!" Chandler shouted. "I'm leaving and I'm taking Angela with me. If either of you try to follow, Angela will die. I'm desperate. I've lost everything. One more murder won't matter at this point.
Rafe felt himself starting to slide, felt his senses dull. He couldn't imagine what had made him so damn groggy and suspected Angel of drugging him. She hadn't wanted him to challenge Chandler and had taken steps to prevent a confrontation. She probably had slipped laudanum in his coffee. Dammit! Why couldn't she have trusted him?
He watched as if from a great distance as Chandler began dragging Angel toward the front door. He felt so damn helpless, as if his body was paralyzed, his mind numb. Even if he could raise his arm he doubted he had the strength to pull the trigger with any accuracy should he have a clear shot at Chandler. He could only watch...and fight to remain conscious.
He saw his Angel stomp on chandler's foot; he cried out in anguish when Chandler struck her a glancing blow on the head with the butt of his gun. She went limp in his arms and Rafe felt such rage that he forgot his broken leg and lunged forward. His roar of rage turned into one of anguish when he tumbled to the floor. He heard Chandler laughter on the peripheral of his conscience and watched through a red haze of pain as Chandler dragged Angel's limp form toward the front door.
"You won't get far," Goodman said as he went to Rafe and helped him to sit up.
"Are you going to stop me, old man?"
"No, but I will. Drop your gun, Chandler."
The moment Chandler grabbed Angela, Sheriff Diller had left Goodman to distract Chandler and sneaked out the back door. Then he worked his way around to the front to cut off Chandler's escape.
Chandler glanced over his shoulder and spit out an oath. "When did you get here?"
"I've been here long enough to hear your confession. Drop the gun, Chandler. I'm taking you in for the murders of Baxter Brady and Desmond Dexter."
"Like hell!" Chandler bit out. "I've got the upper hand here." He pressed his gun into the soft flesh of Angela's neck. "Come one step further and I'll kill her."
"You won't get far," Diller warned.
"We'll see about that. Move away from the door."
Angela suddenly came alive, catching Chandler by surprise. Bringing her elbows forward, then back, she rammed her captor in the ribs. The blow was hard enough to stun him. Caught off guard, Chandler lowered his hand holding the gun, allowing Angela to spin away from him. Sh
eriff Diller took over from there. Grasping Chandler's arm, he wrested the gun from him and pinioned his arms behind him.
"Someone get a rope," he called out as he wrestled with Chandler.
"There's a rope hanging from a hook in the kitchen. I'll get it," Angela said as she started forward.
"I'll do it," Goodman said as he strode past her. He returned seconds later with a rope and helped Diller tie up the struggling Chandler.
While they were occupied with Chandler, Angela turned her attention to Rafe. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his face ashen. She dropped down beside him.
"Are you all right?"
"I'll live," he said through gritted teeth. He lifted a hand to caress her face. "What about you? I wanted to kill Chandler for striking you. Unfortunately my body refused to react as I wanted it to."
Angela rested a hand on his chest, warmed by the steady beat of his heart. "It's over," she choked out. "It's really over. You're free, Rafe. You can go wherever you please, do whatever you want without looking over your shoulder, wondering when the law will catch up with you."
"Thanks to you," Rafe said hoarsely. "My guardian Angel."
Angela gazed up at him, taken aback when she saw moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. Her own eyes were ready to overflow.
"Are you two all right?" Sheriff Diller asked. He and Goodman had subdued Chandler and left him lying on the floor, trussed up like a Christmas goose.
"I'm fine except for a rather large bump on my head," Angela said, "but I think Rafe needs a doctor to see to his leg."
"I'll send one up as soon as we reach town," Diller promised. He gestured toward Chandler. "I'll be carting this one to jail. Wouldn't be surprised to see him hang for his crimes, but we'll leave that to the judge and jury to decide. Can I help you back to bed, Mr. Gentry?"
Rafe allowed Diller to help him up, and with the sheriff's help, he hobbled into the bedroom. Angela fussed over him as he settled into bed.
"I'm sorry for all the problems you've encountered with the law," Diller continued. "It's a damn shame when an innocent man is charged with crimes he didn't commit. You're a free man, Gentry. You'll no longer be troubled by the law if I have anything to say about it. If you and the missus ever need my help, you have but to ask."
