The Outlaws: Rafe (11 page)

"We have the right place," Rafe said as he climbed down from the wagon.
 
"Are you Brady Baxter?"

"I'm Baxter.
 
How can I help you?"

Rafe sized up Baxter in one glance.
 
He wasn't old, perhaps a few years older than his own twenty-eight.
 
His drab blond hair showed signs of graying at the temples and his murky brown eyes held the predatory gleam of a wolf.
 
Big, rawboned and rangy, his narrow-lipped smile suggested a mean disposition.
 
Rafe decided Baxter wasn't to be trusted.

Not one to remain in the background, Angela stepped forward.
 
"Mr. Baxter, I'm Angela, Simon Abbot's daughter."

"Abbot's daughter?" Baxter repeated stupidly.
 
"What in the hell are you doing here?
 
Do you want more money for your share of the mine?
 
Is that it?
 
You didn't have to come all the way out here.
 
We could have conducted everything by mail, or through Simon's lawyer."

"I'm not selling, Mr. Baxter," Angela said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
 
"I'm here to stay."

"Ridiculous," Baxter scoffed.
 
"Simon told me your mother hated it here.
 
I don't think you'll like it any better than she did."

"You're wrong.
 
I love the mountains.
 
Get use to it, Mr. Baxter because I'm here to stay.
 
Someone has to protect my interests."

"Didn't you get my letter?
 
The mine is played out "

"Father never mentioned anything about the mine being played out.
 
His last letter said it was producing just fine."

Baxter took a threatening step forward.
 
"Are you calling me a liar?"

Rafe had let this go on long enough.
 
Though he didn't want to interfere in Angel's business, it thought it high time he stepped in and set Baxter straight.

"I think you get the picture, Baxter," he barked.
 
"Kindly step back.
 
If you think you can intimidate Angel, you're wrong."

Baxter's jaw jutted pugnaciously.
 
"Just who in the hell are you?"

"The name's Gentry.
 
Rafe Gentry.
 
Angela's husband.
 
Any other questions?"

Baxter looked stunned.
 
"Simon never mentioned a son-in-law."

"He died before I could to tell him," Angela said, sending Rafe a disquieting look.

 
Angela didn't know whether to thank Rafe for coming to her defense or be angry at him for the same reason.
 
She hadn't intended to tell Baxter she was married, for once Rafe rode off into the sunset she'd have no one but herself to depend upon.
 
Rafe wasn't doing her any favors by claiming to be her husband.

Baxter sent Rafe a measuring look.
 
"If you married Miss Abbot thinking you married a gold mine, you made a mistake, Gentry.
 
I told you, the mine is no longer profitable."

"Looks pretty busy around here to me," Rafe drawled.

"You look more like a cowboy than a miner, Gentry.
 
Since you aren't qualified to make an intelligent judgment, I suggest you mind your own business and leave the mining to me."

Rafe's temper dangled by a frayed thread.
 
Angela recognized the signs and stepped between the two men.
 
"It's been a long trip.
 
I'd like to settle into my father's cabin.
 
I intend to observe the operation for a time before making any decisions."

"Just keep your husband out of my hair.
 
I don't want no greenhorn snooping around in my business."

"
Our
business," Angela countered.
 
"If you'll excuse us..."

"Simon's cabin was larger and sturdier than mine, I moved there after...the accident," Baxter said.
 
"I'll gather my things and be out of there in a hour."

"Ten minutes," Rafe bit out.

Baxter looked angry enough to spit nails as he sent Rafe a scathing glance and strode off toward the larger of the two cabins.

"You certainly know how to rile a man," Angela said, stifling a smile.

Rafe sent her a answering grin.
 
"You weren't so bad yourself.
 
I don't like that man.
 
Furthermore, I don't trust him."

"Do you think he's capable of murdering my father?"

"Proving that won't be easy.
 
If I were you I would keep my suspicions to myself."

"You're right, of course.
 
After you leave, I'll just bide my time until I have something substantial to report to the law."

"Whoa, lady, you're going too fast.
 
You just got here."

"I suppose you'll be leaving soon."

"What do you think Baxter will make of it when I desert my bride so soon after the wedding?"

"I don't care what..."

"Look," Rafe said, interrupting her in mid-sentence.
 
"We have a visitor."

They turned in unison to watch a lone rider approach the mine.

"Anson Chandler," Angela said.
 
"What does he want?"

"Probably just keeping tabs on us.
 
I wonder what happened to Dexter?"

"Maybe he gave up and returned to Wichita."

"I wouldn't count on it," Rafe said uneasily.

 
He didn't like it one damn bit.
 
He hadn't seen Dexter since their confrontation in the street in Canyon City.
 
What had become of him?
 
He didn't look like a man who gave up easily.
 
Nor did Chandler strike him as a man who would carry on alone.
 
Warning bells went off in his head.
 
If he were smart he'd get on his horse and ride as far and as fast as he could.

Chandler reached them and dismounted.

"What are you doing here, Chandler?" Rafe barked.

"Just thought I'd ride out and look the mine over.
 
Some operation.
 
Where's your partner, Angela?"

"Around," Rafe said before Angela could reply.

Just then Baxter exited the cabin, lugging a crate with his belongings.
 
He saw Chandler, set the crate down and strode over to join him.

"This seems to be a busy place today.
 
Who are you?"

"I'm Anson Chandler, Angela's fiancé," Chandler informed him.

Baxter's sandy brows rose sharply upward.
 
A husband and a fiancé.
 
That's a new one on me.
 
Care to explain?"

"There's nothing to explain, Rafe growled.
 
"Obviously Mr. Chandler hasn't reconciled himself to being a jilted fiancé."

"Then I suggest that he leaves, this is private property."

"I second that," Rafe said.
 
"My
wife
and I want to get settled in.
 
I'll let you know when we're ready for visitors.
 
Good-bye, Chandler."

"You haven't seen the last of me, Gentry," Chandler said as he mounted up and rode away.

"You can tell your friends I don't take kindly to riffraff trespassing on my property, Gentry," Baxter warned.
 
"I've cleared my belongings from the cabin.
 
It's all yours."

"I'm positive my suspicions about Baxter are right," Angela muttered as Baxter strode away.
 
"He's a nasty man, no wonder Father didn't trust him.
 
They became partners because Father desperately needed an infusion of money and Baxter had funds available.
 
As it turned out, they struck gold shortly afterward."

"Just how do you propose to go about proving Baxter was responsible for your father's accident?" Rafe challenged.
 
"I think you've bitten off more than you can chew this time, Angel.
 
I'm almost tempted to stick around and see what happens.
 
You're one determined lady, I'll give you that.
 
Also a very foolish one."
 
He thumbed his hat to the back of his head.
 
"What in the hell do you expect to accomplish by yourself?"

Angela simmered with barely suppressed anger.
 
"Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm incapable
of solving my own problems.
 
Don't worry about me, Rafe Gentry, I can take care of myself."

Rafe gave a snort of laughter.
 
"If you say so.
 
Shall we see what the cabin looks like?"

"I already know.
 
I remember it as if it were yesterday.
 
Father added on a bedroom for me when I got old enough to want one."

Together they entered the cabin.
 
Angela took one look around and gasped in outrage.
 
"It's a pigpen!
 
I don't think Baxter did one thing to it since he moved in."

Rafe agreed with Angela.
 
Though basically sturdy and spacious compared to some cabins he'd seen, it was badly in need of cleaning.
 
They walked through the parlor, which contained a wooden settle and pair of rocking chairs sitting before a huge hearth that took up one wall.
 
Peering through the kitchen door, Rafe spied a cook stove, round oak table, and sufficient cupboards in which to store foodstuffs.
 
The wooden floor was littered with dirt and debris.
 
In contrast, the parlor floor was carpeted with a colorful rag rug.
 
Two doors opened off the parlor, which Rafe supposed were bedrooms.

"It's going to take elbow grease to get the place back in shape," Rafe said.
 
"I'll lend a hand.
 
All things considered, your father built a sturdy cabin.
 
The logs are properly chinked and the windows have glass panes and inside shutters to keep out the raw weather during the winter."

"Father had water pumped inside for Mama, but his efforts weren't good enough to keep her here.
 
There's even a storm cellar beneath the cabin.
 
Unfortunately Mama couldn't abide the privy outside, especially on cold winter days."

"If you want to start sweeping out some of the debris, I'll carry in the supplies," Rafe said.

"I...can manage," Angela said.
 
"I know you must be anxious to be on your way."

Rafe shrugged.
 
"I've nothing better to do.
 
Besides," he glanced out the dirty window at Baxter, "someone has to keep you out of trouble.
 
I think I'll stick around a while longer to make sure Baxter doesn't try to take advantage of you."

Angela wasn't sure whether to be pleased about that or not.
 
Rafe Gentry could grow on her.
 
She might become too accustomed to having Rafe around, and when he left, as he surely would, his absence would leave a void in her life.
 
When had she come to depend on Rafe Gentry?

They spent the rest of that day cleaning the cabin and stowing away personal items and supplies.
 
As Rafe suspected, there were two bedrooms off the main room.
 
A large one containing a double bed covered with a colorful patchwork quilt and a chest of drawers, and a smaller one almost identical, except it held a single bed.

Angela threw together a haphazard meal that night that was surprisingly good.
 
Afterward, Angela cleared her throat and said, "I've put clean sheets on both beds.
 
You can take the large room, I'll take the smaller one."

"The double bed in the room you've assigned me is large enough to share," Rafe hinted with tongue in cheek.
 
"We've shared a bed before."

With disastrous results, Angela thought but did not say.
 
She shifted uncomfortably.
 
Just thinking about Rafe's hands on her, his big body next to hers on the bed, sent chills down her spine.
 
She feared she'd like it too well.

"We'll be more comfortable if we each have our own bed," she said, keeping her eyes downcast.

 
Should Rafe discover how very much she liked having him around, chances were he would increase his efforts to get her into his bed.
 
And Lords knows she had enough problems without adding an amorous cowboy who was likely to disappear tomorrow or the day after into the mix.

Rafe found scant solace in the comfortable bed.
 
Every muscle and sinew was vibrantly aware that Angel lay a thin wall away.
 
Unfortunately there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
 
Angel was determined to keep him out of her bed.
 
And as much as he wanted her, he couldn't disagree with her decision.
 
He was glad at least one of them was strong enough to resist temptation.
 
If left to him, he'd be in her bed right now, loving her every way to Sunday and to hell with tomorrow.