The Outlaws: Rafe (17 page)

Her blood still pounding through her veins, her heart pumping furiously, Angela slowly regained her wits.
 
She had lost herself completely in Rafe's arms as raw pleasure surged through her.
 
The last thing she recalled was riding atop Rafe and the incredible bliss slowly building inside her.
 
When the explosive end came, she remembered screaming out his name.
 
Then she must have blacked out.
 
When she opened her eyes, Rafe was on his feet, tugging on his trousers.

He must have sensed her eyes on him for he gave her a look that could only be described as apologetic.

"I don't have much time."

"I know.
 
Will I ever see you again?"

His expression gave away nothing of his feelings.
 
"I don't know.
 
Do you really care?"

She stared at him, gnawing on her lower lip as she contemplated her answer.
 
She didn't want to care but her wayward heart refused to listen.
 
"I care."

That seemed to surprise him.
 
"You care but you still believe me capable of committing a crime.
 
You think I'm an outlaw."

She raised up on her elbows.
 
"Rafe, I seriously don't know what to believe.
 
In my heart I know you're not capable of committing murder.
 
As for the bank robbery..."
 
She shrugged.
 
"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt despite your unwillingness to stay and clear your name."

He gave a brittle laugh.
 
"You don't know the way the law works out here, do you?
 
It's shoot first and ask questions later.
 
Perhaps one day the truth will come out, but waiting around for a posse to string me up isn't the way to do it."

He strapped on his gunbelt and stepped into his boots.
 
His expression spoke volumes about his emotional upheaval as he paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"I can't take the Red Rock Canyon Road into town without running into the posse so I'll try to find another way off this mountain."
 
His voice sounded weary, so very weary.
 
"If things had been different..."

"But they're not, are they," Angela said quietly.
 
"Don't worry about me, Rafe, I can take care of myself.
 
I got myself out of Wichita on my own, didn't I?"

"From the frying pan into the fire," Rafe muttered beneath his breath.
 
"You keep the marriage paper.
 
You might find some use for it.
 
I'll try to send word when I settle."

She looked away.
 
She wasn't about to let Rafe Gentry know how badly she was hurting.
 
But what else could she expect from an outlaw?
 
"Don't bother."
 
Then she couldn't help adding, "Keep yourself safe, Rafe."

He made what sounded like a gurgling noise deep in his throat before flinging open the door and letting himself out.
 
Angela made no move to follow.
 
She lay there, staring at the ceiling, willing the tears not to flow.
 
When she heard him ride away, she forced herself from bed and slowly dressed.

It wasn't the posse who showed up a scant fifteen minutes later.
 
The sound of pounding hooves brought Angela rushing to the window.
 
She grimaced in distaste aloud when she saw her stepfather and Chandler riding up to the cabin.
 
Her steps dragged as she walked outside to greet them.

"Where's Gentry?" Dexter growled.
 
"He's wanted by the law.
 
Chandler and I thought we'd save the posse the trouble of bringing him in and collect the reward for ourselves.
 
You did know the sheriff is forming a posse to bring him in, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Angela insisted.
 
"If you're looking for Rafe, he's not here."

"Get out of my way," Dexter said, shoving her aside as he and Chandler stormed inside the cabin.

It didn't take them long to conduct their search.
 
"He's not here," Dexter bit out.
 
"Check the corral for his horse," Chandler."

"I told you he wasn't here," Angela said when Chandler returned minutes later to report that Rafe's horse was missing.

"He won't get far," Dexter said.
 
"Did I tell you I paid a call on Sheriff Tattersal in Ordway?
 
He had quite a story to tell.
 
What in hell made you marry an outlaw, Angela?
 
I knew you were getting too involved with your church and all that nonsense about good deeds.
 
I should have locked you in your room until you were safely married to Chandler."

"Anson Chandler is the last person in the world I would marry," Angela contended.

"So you wed an outlaw instead," Chandler scoffed.
 
"Tell her about the new charges against Gentry, Dexter."

"Gladly," Dexter crowed.
 
"I had a heart to heart with Tattersal and set him straight about Rafe Gentry.
 
Now the sheriff is convinced that Gentry is the man who robbed the stagecoach and murdered those poor people.
 
There'll be another poster out for his arrest soon."

"No!
 
Rafe's not a killer," Angela protested.

"You aren't qualified to judge that.
 
I told Tattersal you were a fanatic about social injustice, that when you saw Gentry sitting at the end of a rope with the lynch mob clamoring for his blood, your protective instincts overrode your good sense.
 
I had a damn hard time convincing the good sheriff that you weren't aware of Gentry's violent past."

"You're reprehensible," Angela spat.
 
"I don't know what good it will do you.
 
I'm still married to Rafe no matter who or what he is."

Dexter's grin was downright smug.
 
"I'd like another look at that marriage paper, if you don't mind.
 
I'm not all that certain it's legal."

Angela saw no harm in letting them look at the document.
 
She and Rafe had also signed the church register Reverend Conrad carried with him.
 
Nothing could change the fact that she and Rafe were husband and wife."

Unfortunately Angela wasn't aware of a vital piece of information Dexter had failed to impart.
 
Had she known, she wouldn't have let him peruse the marriage paper she had fetched from the bedroom.

Dexter clutched the document in his hand, then calmly tore it into shreds, letting the pieces float away in the breeze.

"That's what I think about your so-called marriage to a vicious outlaw."

"Bastard!" Angela hissed.

"My, my, you never used that kind of language when you lived in my home.
 
Did Gentry teach you how to cuss?"

Chandler sent her a sullen glare.
 
"I'll bet he taught her more than that.
 
If it wasn't for the gold, I wouldn't take a killer's leavings."

"The mine is worthless," Angela claimed.

"Surely you don't believe Baxter," Chandler scoffed.
 
"I've been snooping around town while Desmond was in Ordway.
 
Baxter has been making regular bank deposits after your father's death.
 
It stands to reason that he's getting that gold from the Golden Angel.

"As soon as we're married I'm going to employ my own miners, and there's nothing Baxter can do about it."

"When will you get it through your head that I'm already married?" Angela retorted.
 
"Reverend Conrad recorded the marriage in the church register he carries with him and nothing could be more binding than that."

"You're right, if that book still existed."

Angela blanched.
 
Did Dexter know something she didn't?
 
How could that be?

"You're bluffing.
 
Of course that book exists.
 
As soon as Reverend Conrad reaches Wichita, he'll enter our names in the Baptist church register.
 
If you and Anson hoped to get rich off my holdings, you're sadly mistaken.
 
I have no intention of obtaining a divorce."

"I fear you haven't heard the sad news, my dear," Dexter said without a hint of remorse.
 
"Reverend Conrad's wagon was attacked by renegade Indians before he reached Wichita.
 
Nothing but ashes remained of the wagon and its contents.
 
That means no legal documents exists to verify that a wedding took place."

"Oh, no!
 
Poor Reverend Conrad and Sister Grace," Angela sobbed.
 
"How terrible."

"That all depends on how you look at it," Chandler crowed.
 
"No marriage, no husband.
 
That means you are now free to marry me.
 
We'll be married tomorrow, or as soon as I can arrange for a preacher to come up here and do the honors."

"You won't get away with this," Angela spat.
 
"You can't force me to marry you.
 
No preacher worth his salt will marry an unwilling bride."

"Willing or not, you're going to marry Chandler," Dexter promised with a hint of menace.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a dozen horsemen galloped into view.

"That will be the posse," Chandler said.
 
"And if I'm not mistaken, that's Brady Baxter with them."

In a flurry of dust, the posse reined in before the cabin.

"I'm Sheriff Diller, Mrs. Gentry, is your husband here?"

"You're wasting your time, sheriff," Dexter answered.
 
"Gentry's gone.
 
He was gone when we got here.'

"I told you not to waste time with a posse," Baxter chided.
 
"You, me and the deputy could have taken him had we left town immediately."

"Who's the sheriff here, Baxter?" Diller blasted.
 
"Gentry's a dangerous criminal.
 
It's gonna take more than three men to take him in."

Baxter gave a disgruntled snort but did not contradict the sheriff.

"Do you know where your husband went, Mrs. Gentry?"
          

"I'm sorry, Sheriff Diller, but I have no idea where Rafe can be found.
 
I do know that Rafe didn't commit the crimes of which he's accused.
 
He's innocent."

Angela was more than a little surprised at her own words.
 
Did she really believe in Rafe's innocence?

"They're all innocent," Diller said with derision.
 
"We didn't pass him on the road.
 
He's either hiding in the forest or he's found another way down the mountain.
 
Come on, boys, let's ride.
 
We'll find him."

"Don't forget the reward, Sheriff," Baxter called after them.
 
"I'm the one who led you to Gentry."

"
If
we catch him the reward is yours," Diller said as he kicked his mount forward.

Angela watched the cloud of dust grow smaller as the posse disappeared down the road.
 
She wondered why Baxter had remained behind and soon found out why.

"What are you two doing here?" Baxter growled when Dexter and Chandler made no move to leave.
 
"I don't believe I know your friend, Chandler."

"I'm Desmond Dexter, Angela's stepfather and guardian," Dexter said, offering his hand.
 
Baxter ignored it.
 
"I'm here to protect my stepdaughter's interests.
 
If there's gold in that mine, Baxter, I intend to make damn certain Angela gets her share."

Baxter didn't like the sound of that at all.
 
It was bad enough with Gentry looking over his shoulder.
 
Now he had a stepfather and former fiancé breathing down his neck.
 
Of all the rotten luck.

"Get out of here, both of you.
 
I don't care who you are, you're trespassing."

"See here, Baxter, you may have pulled the wool over my stepdaughter's eyes but you can't fool me.
 
Angela is going to marry Anson Chandler tomorrow so get use to seeing us around."

Baxter's eyebrows shot up.
 
"Are you going to commit bigamy, Mrs. Gentry?"

"I'm not marrying Mr. Chandler no matter what my stepfather says," Angela insisted.
 
"I'm already married to Rafe Gentry."

"Angela is a little confused, Baxter," Dexter said.
 
"You see, her marriage to Gentry isn't legal.
 
She's free to marry whomever she chooses."

"Anson Chandler is the last man I'd choose," Angela retorted.