Angel Gone Bad (4 page)

A
s Rune drove the buggy into Delaware Bend that evening, he felt his senses ratchet up a notch. The Bend was no place for fools or laggards. The tough town squatted on the Texas side of the Red River, but catered to the outlaws, Indians, and adventurers that crossed over from Indian Territory to gamble, drink, and raise hell. If lawmen dared to show up, the outlaws could quickly escape north across the muddy river.

Indian Territory had become a haven for outlaws because Indian Nations had their own laws and courts that the U.S. government wouldn't allow to be applied to Americans. At the same time, Deputy U.S. Marshals were limited to federal law. In many cases, Indian Lighthorsemen and deputies worked together to solve crimes, but they were hard pressed to stem the tide of illegal activities.

Judge Isaac Parker, called the Hangin' Judge by those who got on the wrong side of his gavel, ran a tight courtroom in Fort Smith. His word was law, for there was no appeal to a higher court. After his appointment by the U.S. Congress to clean up Indian Territory, Judge Parker made great strides to do just that. The courthouse jail wasn't called “Hell on the Border” for nothing. Marshal Boles and his deputies brought in as many criminals as they could catch.

Rune couldn't fault their intent. He'd once been on their side of the law. Even if they, or the AHTA, didn't know it, he was still helping them.

“I'd like to go to Manny's Livery Stable.” Angel pointed at a weathered wooden building with an outside corral. “A friend recommended it.”

“That's not where I rented this horse and buggy.”

“I need a place to change clothes before we play poker.”

“And you think a livery stable is a likely place?” Rune asked skeptically. “You could've changed out in the country, but you wouldn't. I thought you wanted a hotel—”

“I want safety and privacy. From what I understand, Manny's is the place to get it.”

“Makes no sense.”

“Where have you been living in the Bend?”

“No place. I pay for a bath and a shave. I keep my things in my saddlebags. That way there's no record of where I'm staying and no prying eyes.”

“Where do you keep your saddlebags, saddle, and horse?”

Rune ground his teeth at her logic. “You made your point. I can sleep with my horse. But you need something better.”

“I'll get it, too. And it won't include sleeping with your horse.”

“There's nothing wrong with my horse.”

“I didn't say there was. I just prefer not to sleep with an animal many times my size and weight.”

“I'm not that much bigger than you.”

She shook her head, green eyes sparkling. “I sleep alone.”

“Could get mighty lonely.”

“I'm not going to discuss it.” She pointed again. “Please stop at Manny's. If my information isn't correct, then we can reconsider my plan.”

When Rune had thought about Angel in prison, she'd always been compliant with his wishes. In reality, she was about as stubborn and ornery as a mule. If he didn't want to argue all night and call attention to them, he was going to have to give up and give in. He pulled over in front of Manny's Livery Stable.

A guy walked out, stopped, and put his hands on his hips. He had a grizzled beard and wild mane of black hair touched with silver. He wore faded blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. He studied their horse and buggy and then spit tobacco on the ground. “What can I do for you folks?”

“Lady sent me,” Angel said, adjusting her blond wig. “She said if I ever needed a safe place to stay in the Bend to see Manny.”

“You're at the right place.” He spit on the ground again and then looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You're Lady's friend?”

“Yes. I met her in Indian Territory.”

“She's not singing around here, not lately.”

“Lady . . . Lady Gone Bad?” Rune felt as if he'd been poleaxed. “You two know the most famous female singer in the West?”

Manny shrugged. “See her now and again.”

“But Angel, how can you know her? Lady's an outlaw!” Rune turned to look at her in amazement.

“So they say.” Angel raised her chin. “I don't believe she's ever been convicted of a crime.”

Manny chuckled and then spit another stream of tobacco.

“That doesn't make Lady innocent. That makes her good at her job.” Rune looked from one to the other, feeling like he was missing something important.

“Lady is a creative inspiration,” Angel said. “I made a point of meeting her at Robber's Cave when we were there to hear her sing.”

“I never saw her up close.” Rune thought back. Angel had left him at one point, but she hadn't been gone long. That must have been when she'd met the singer. “We were there when she got inspired to write that ballad, weren't we?”

“Oh, yes! ‘Lady Gone Bad's Shoot-out at Stone Corral' is great. But I like ‘Lady Gone Bad's Firefight at Boggy Saloon' even better. You know she creates her ballads from real-life experiences. That's what inspired me to do the same with my novels.”

“I can see you admire her,” Rune said, still puzzled. “But you met her only one time. Why would you call her a friend? And why would she send you here?”

Manny cleared his throat, rubbing his beard. “Fact is, Lady takes a liking to somebody and they're friends for life.”

“That's it,” Angel quickly agreed, nodding at Manny. “I hope you'll understand my situation. I need to change my looks and pretend to be somebody else. Is it possible to do that here?”

“Sure is, little lady.” Manny grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “I got just the place for you.” He motioned with his head. “Up the ladder in the hay loft. Just don't touch Lady's guitar.”

“Thank you. Maybe I could sleep up there, too?”

“Sure thing. Use the pillow and quilts.”

“I'm most appreciative.”

Manny frowned at Rune. “You gonna be hanging around, too?”

“Guess so. I'll go turn in this horse and buggy. Bring back my horse.”

“I've got room. But
you
pay. The lady stays for free.”

“Fair enough.”

Rune stepped from the buggy, walked around to help Angel down, but Manny had already set her on her feet, treating her like she was spun silk. Irritation spiked. He wanted Angel totally dependent on him, and here she already had a man to do her bidding. Probably the way she lived her life. Didn't matter. Pretty quick, he'd turn that situation on its ear.

When Rune had Manny loaded down with parcels, he watched Angel hurry the few steps to the livery stable. She turned, gave a little wave, and then disappeared into the dimness inside. She was like a cat landing on her feet and licking up the cream.

He shrugged. She was what she was. He glanced around to make sure nobody had been watching them. Not a soul in sight at this time of day. As far as he could tell, they'd slipped her into the stable with no one the wiser.

With Angel in place, it was time to turn his mind to other business. He climbed into the buggy, clicked to the horse, and set off down the street. Night was coming on and the Bend would fast be coming alive. He needed to get rid of the horse and buggy, get cleaned up, and meet up with the Verdigris Gang at the Red River Saloon.

Most likely the V Gang had slept the day away. They'd be hung over but raring to go. In prison, they'd stored up plenty of oats to sow, and they'd been plowing fields aplenty since reaching the Bend. It wasn't smart, calling that much attention to themselves, but Rune understood the need. If he'd had nothing on his mind, he'd probably have joined them.

Gunfire erupted down the street, breaking into Rune's thoughts and causing his horse to dance sideways. As he got the animal under control, he noticed the leader of the Verdigris Gang headed down the boardwalk with a satin-clad honey clinging to his arm.

Rune slumped in his seat. Last thing he needed was to try and explain away why he'd been out of town in a buggy. He was a tagalong with the gang, so he was always skating on thin ice.

“Hey, Rune!” Baines Callahan called, waving and starting across the street, dragging the woman with him.

Rune cursed under his breath, damning his bad luck.

A
ngel stood in the open front doors of Manny's Livery Stable, contemplating nighttime in notorious Delaware Bend. She'd never seen so much rowdy behavior. Dust swirled up from the main street, spun in all directions by drunken revelers driving their horses hard up one side and down the other. They fired their pistols in the air, cursed each other, and rode up onto the boardwalks. Piano music filtered out of open saloon doors along with the smell of spilled whiskey.

Soon she would join them, slipping into their world as Angel the Ace. When Rune had earlier brought his horse to Manny's, he'd wanted to escort her, but she'd turned him down. She intended to start as she would continue.
Independent.
Now that she saw the wildness of the town, she could understand his concern. He might have been right, but she couldn't allow herself to start depending on him or she might become even more vulnerable, not only to him but to her own strong desire for him.

From teacher to writer had not been a big leap. She could slide easily from one to the other, simply changing her outer garments. But Angel the Ace required much more. She must alter her mind and her emotions, along with her attire, if she stood a chance of living up to Rune's expectations and finding Verity's fiancé.

Angel took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. And then there were the cards. Their siren song was louder now that she would be working with them again. She shivered with anticipation.

“Why don't you let me walk you to the Red River Saloon?” Manny asked, sidling up to her.

“Did you escort Lady?”

“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “She'd have bit my head clean off at that idea.”

“I want to do this on my own, too.”

“Lady takes the alley behind here to come out at the saloon's back door. Safest that way.”

“Thanks. I'll do it, too.”

“Seven doors down. Count 'em.”

She nodded in agreement.

Earlier she'd had a heart-to-heart talk with Manny, explaining that the man Lady loved was Angel's brother, Rafe Morgan. She'd also explained about her situation with Rune, once more contrite about her former behavior. Manny had been sympathetic, but worried for her, too.

“You know you got a place here if things get rough,” Manny said, breaking their silence. “I'm a pretty good shot, if it comes to that.”

“Thank you. I hope I can quickly get a lead on Verity's fiancé. But I don't have much time before she's due. Maybe a month. Verity desperately wants them to be married before their baby is born.”

“I'll keep my eyes and ears open.”

“Thanks. You're a big help.” She turned to go, and then impulsively gave Manny a big hug.

He grinned, appearing embarrassed. “You remind me of Lady. Now get out there and wow them.”

“I'm on my way.”

She walked out of the stable and into a dark alley. Humidity made the night feel hotter. As she headed toward the saloon, she caught the combined odors of liquor, refuse, outhouse, and sweat. Not pleasant, but she wouldn't allow a few bad smells to slow her down.

As she made her way down the alley, she saw the shadowy shapes of men leaning back against buildings, groaning as they crouched on their knees, and standing toe-to-toe in arguments. She slipped silently past them, thinking of the ivory-handled derringer tucked in the black reticule dangling on satin cords from her wrist. Rune had given her the single-shot, insisting that any self-respecting cardsharp carried one for protection. Her brother Rafe had taught her how to shoot when they were young. Still, she'd use the weapon only as a last resort.

She counted doors as she listened to the sound of music and laughter coming through saloon walls. Finally, she reached number seven. A battered and splintered door sagged open, allowing yellow light and loud voices to escape.

If she couldn't do this, now was the time to retreat. She straightened her shoulders. She wouldn't allow herself the luxury of turning back. Too many others depended on her actions.

She wished she'd had more choice at the store in Cedar Mills. Colorful calico gowns or black mourning clothes had been the only selection for women. She'd needed something memorable and fashionable that would also allow her to conceal her identity. She'd picked black over flowers.

Now she wore a black taffeta skirt with a stylish bustle in back and apron in front. Over a black corset that pushed up her breasts and reduced her waist, she wore a boy's emerald vest that was unbuttoned low enough to reveal cleavage. She'd wrapped a black fringed shawl around her shoulders. Sturdy black button boots were comfortable. She'd pinned up her auburn hair, covered it with a black hat, and then pulled the hat's black lace veil down to obscure her eyes and the top half of her face. She wore black lace mittens that reached above her wrists and left her fingers bare to easily handle cards.

In her suggestive widow's weeds, she didn't believe anyone would recognize her as Angelica or Crystabelle, but there was always that danger. She would remain alert for anyone she knew from her other lives.

For now, she was as ready as she could get. She stepped with determination inside the Red River Saloon through the rear entrance, appearing as an apparition of dark and silence amidst light and sound.

A long line of men was bellied up to the bar, drinking, smoking, and talking. Cigarette smoke swirled in a white cloud over their heads. Light from hanging lanterns with green glass shades cast a golden glow over the large room dotted with round wooden tables and chairs filled with gamblers. Here and there a brightly dressed young woman flirted, chatted, or danced with the patrons to the tunes pounded out on an upright piano by a man in a red shirt.

Never in her life could Angel have imagined walking boldly into a saloon where a lady would never set foot unless she was willing to lose her good reputation. And yet she was fascinated by the rowdy guys relaxing at their leisure and the gaudy gals catering to them. It was another world, one that existed as a haven for men but not for women. She felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what she was doing. Only her disguise made her feel safe enough to brave this lion's den. No matter what happened, she had definitely gone bad.

She blinked to clear her eyes from the sting of smoke and looked for Rune and the Verdigris Gang. Too many men were packed too closely together for her to be able to find the ones she sought.

As she moved slowly into the saloon, quiet followed in her wake. Voices faltered when surprised patrons stopped to watch her advance. By the time she reached the middle of the room, quiet had descended and she was the complete center of attention.

Startled at the reaction to her appearance, Angel held down her panic by thinking about what Lady Gone Bad would do with so many male admirers staring at her and judging her attributes.

She raised her chin, let her shawl fall open, put her hands on her hips, and glanced around the room with a smile on her rosy lips. She drew upon all her courage and issued a challenge, “Any of you know how to play poker?”

In response, hootin' and hollerin' filled the place.

She cocked her head. “I take that as a yes.”

Sound rocked the rafters.

She studied the patrons as she kept a smile in place although her heart beat so fast she feared it might burst loose.

From a table near the swinging doors at the front, a tall, broad-shouldered man stood up, keeping his back to the wall. “That's Angel the Ace!” Rune called out. “Fresh from the Mississippi riverboats. Darlin', come over here. We'd be honored to play with you.”

At those words, players at the other tables began vying for Angel's attention, calling out invitations to play with them.

She marveled at the ease with which Rune had instantly made her a famous female gambler from the sophisticated riverboat world, come to play cards in the rugged Wild West. Thankfully, she had chosen her clothes so that she fit the image. She could also handle a deck of cards with the best of them.

Rune quickly walked over to her, gave a slight bow, and then gestured toward his table. “Show time,” he murmured under his breath.

Just to make sure he didn't get overconfident about her, Angel hesitated and glanced around the room. “Gentlemen, my skills may not be up to yours, but I look forward to playing poker with you.”

Hurrahs came up from the tables.