The Outlaws: Rafe (20 page)

She was no further now than she had been before at proving that Baxter was responsible for her father's untimely death.
 
Everyone in town believed Simon Abbot's death had been an accident.
 
Would anyone believe her if she started making accusations?
 
She doubted it.
 
Her only hope of discovering the truth was to trick Baxter into giving himself away.

Other concerns crowded her mind.
 
Though she seriously doubted Desmond could find a preacher willing to marry her to Anson without her consent, it wasn't impossible.
 
He had found one in Wichita, hadn't he.

The insistent knocking on the door jerked Angela from her morose thoughts.
 
At first she assumed her visitors were Anson and Desmond, but she quickly discarded that notion.
 
They wouldn't have had time to find a preacher and return so quickly.
 
She opened the door, not too surprised to find Baxter standing on the doorstep, hat in hand, a smug grin stretching his lips across large, uneven teeth.

"'Mornin', Angela.
 
I've come courting."

Angela resisted the urge to laugh.
 
"You what?"

The smile slipped from Baxter's face.
 
"Marrying me is a better deal than the man your stepfather chose for you.
 
Why should we have to share the mine with anyone?
 
Marry me and it will be all ours."

"Yours, you mean," Angela charged.

He shrugged.
 
"Whatever.
 
No one can horn in on our profits."

Angela slowly backed away.
 
"You're mad!
 
Why would I marry a man I believe responsible for my father's death?"

Baxter's expression turned downright ugly.
 
"What did you say?"

Angela could have bitten her tongue.
 
How could she have been so careless?

"I...it's nothing.
 
I didn't mean it.
 
I'm still upset over Rafe.
 
I have to go now.
 
I'm going to ride to town to consult with Father's lawyer."

Baxter grasped her arm.
 
"You're not going anywhere, little lady.
 
And I don't want to hear another word about your suspicions 'cause you're plumb loco.
 
You and me are gonna get hitched.
 
Today, before Chandler and Dexter show up."

"You're the one who's loco, Mr. Baxter.
 
What ever gave you the impression I'd marry you?"

"You'll marry me because I'm holding an ace in the hole."

She tried to twist from his grasp but he was too strong for her.
 
"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let me enlighten you.
 
I caught your lover sneaking out of your cabin last night."

Angela's breath hitched.
 
"You're bluffing.
 
Rafe wasn't anywhere near my cabin last night.
 
He's probably miles away from here by now."

"That's how much you know.
 
He's trussed up like a Christmas goose and hidden away where no one will find him."

Panic shot through Angela.
 
"What have you done to him?
 
If you hurt him I'll..."

"You'll what?
 
He's headed for the gallows anyway."

"What do you want from me?"

He sent her a smug grin.
 
"I knew you were a smart lady.
 
At first I thought I'd use Gentry as leverage to force you to sell out to me, but then I thought, why not have it all?
 
You
and
the mine.
 
I could use a pretty little piece like you in my bed.
 
You must be one hot package to bring Gentry back here to tumble you with a posse breathing down his neck."

"I'm not going to marry you, Brady Baxter, and I'm not going to sell out, either," Angela insisted.

"Forget about selling.
 
I'm not interested in that anymore."
 
He leered at her.
 
"I want more, much more.
 
As for giving me what I want, it's either that or watch Gentry hang.
 
If you don't agree to my terms, I'm turning him in for the reward."

Angela searched Baxter's face.
 
He didn't seem to be bluffing.
 
Besides, how would he know Rafe had visited her last night if he hadn't seen him?
 
He was so sure of himself, so smug, that he had to be telling the truth.

Angela tried hard to convince herself that she didn't care what happened to Rafe.
 
Didn't care about him at all.
 
To no avail.
 
She cared
too
much.
 
Did she care enough to marry a man who might be responsible for her father's death?

"Angela, you can think all you like but it's not going to change things.
 
I have Gentry and I want you."

"You never expressed desire for me before," Angela observed.

"Not so.
 
The first time your father showed me that miniature of you I knew you were the kind of woman I could go for.
 
But when you showed up here claiming to be married, there was nothing I could do.
 
Circumstances have changed.
 
Our marriage will solidify our partnership."

"We own a worthless mine," Angela reminded him.

"Perhaps I was wrong."

"Perhaps you're wrong about Rafe.
 
Maybe he's miles away from here."

"Maybe he isn't."

"What about my stepfather?
 
He's determined to marry me to Chandler."

Baxter gave a brittle laugh.
 
"I don't consider them worthy opponents."
 
He also knew he had too much lose if Angela married Chandler.

"You don't even like me."

"You think not?"

Before Angela knew what he intended, Baxter grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him.
 
She struggled.
 
She screamed.
 
No one heard.
 
No one cared.
 
His mouth slammed down on hers.
 
His kiss was not gentle, nor was it pleasant.
 
Angela endured it with stoic reserve, holding her mouth tightly shut against the violation of his tongue.
 
When he cupped her breast and started to back her into the cabin, she took exception.
 
Raising her knee, she jammed it into his groin.

Baxter let out a wounded scream and doubled over.
 
"Bitch!
 
You've done it now.
 
Your lover is as good as dead."

He took two mincing steps and howled again.
 
"Damn you!"

Watching him, Angela felt grim satisfaction, until she remembered what he'd said.
 
Rafe was as good as dead.
 
What had she done?

"Wait!
 
I'm sorry.
 
I...I don't know what got into me.
 
I'll agree to anything you want, just don't turn Rafe over to the law."

"That's more like it," Baxter said, gritting his teeth against the pain.
 
"Any more tricks like that and you can kiss your lover good-bye."

"You want the mine?
 
Fine, it's yours.
 
I'll sign the papers over to you immediately."

Baxter's lewd gaze roamed over her with flagrant lust.
 
"Not so fast.
 
I'm looking forward to taming you.
 
Normally I wouldn't be interested in an outlaw's leavings, but you intrigue me, Angela Abbot.
 
My mind is made up.
 
I want both you and the Golden Angel.
 
We'll be married today."

"Only if you agree to release Rafe," Angela asserted.
 
"I don't trust you."

"And I don't trust you to keep your word if I let Gentry go first."

The one person who stood in his way of gaining everything he wanted was Rafe Gentry.
 
Baxter didn't fool himself by thinking that Rafe would leave once he was set free.
 
Oh, no, there would be hell to pay if Gentry was free to seek revenge against him for taking his woman.
 
Gentry had to die.

"I always keep my word," Angela insisted.

"You have my promise to release Gentry once we're husband and wife," Baxter lied.

Promises meant nothing to Baxter.
 
He'd killed once.
 
It was easy.
 
He could kill again if the need arose.

"You don't have much choice, Angela.
 
Delaying will only condemn your lover to an ignominious death at the end of a rope.
 
Is that what you want for him?"

"Rafe isn't a killer.
 
The law will soon learn their mistake and make it right."

"Do you really believe that?
 
Come on, Angela, be realistic.
 
You're Gentry's only hope.
 
What is it going to be?"

Baxter knew he had her the moment her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Very well, I'll marry you, but only to save Rafe's life.
 
Don't think for a minute I have any feelings but hatred for you.
 
If I find out you had a hand in hastening my father's death I'll not rest until I bring you to justice."

Baxter had the gall to laugh in her face.
 
"Put on your prettiest bonnet, honey, we're going to a wedding.
 
Ours.
 
Hurry now, I want this wrapped up all nice and legal before your stepfather takes a notion to trespass again."

Her mouth settled into stubborn lines.
 
"I want to see Rafe first."

He gave her a sullen glare.
 
"Not now.
 
Don't make me mad while I'm still in a mellow mood.
 
First things first.
 
I'll go put on my Sunday's best and hitch up the buckboard while you make yourself pretty for me.
 
You have thirty minutes, Angela.
 
Don't dawdle."

Angela stormed into the cabin.
 
She was angry at Baxter, at herself, at Rafe, at the whole world.
 
Before she left Wichita she'd expected problems to develop, but nothing like this.
 
Rafe had been right.
 
She'd been a naive fool to think she could travel hundreds of miles to claim her inheritance and learn the truth about her father's death without encountering problems.
 
Now here she was, about to marry a man who might be a murderer and in love with another man accused of crimes he hadn't committed.

Angela went still.
 
Love?
 
Was she in love with Rafe?
 
The fact that she was willing to marry a man she despised to save Rafe's life should prove how deep her feelings were for Rafe.
 
Unwilling to delve too deeply into fragile emotions, Angela pushed the subject to the back of her mind as she prepared for her wedding.

Fuming in impotent silence, Angela dawdled as long as she dared inside the cabin.
 
When Baxter called through the door that he was coming in after her if she didn't come out, she knew she'd tried his patience to the limits.
 
Stepping outside, she was surprised to see Baxter all spruced up in a black suit and string tie.
 
The one discordant note was the six-shooter that rode his hip.
 
Angela thought he looked as out of place and uncomfortable as an mule among a bevy of Thoroughbreds in his finery.

Angela had made little concessions to what was supposed to be her wedding day.
 
She'd donned a simple frock and her oldest bonnet.
 
Since she was already married, she knew in her heart this wedding was a sham, illegal in every way.
 
She was going through the motions for Rafe's sake, but she'd never allow Baxter to touch her intimately.
 
She wasn't helpless.
 
She'd find some way to stop him from claiming what he surely considered his marital rights.

Brady guided the buckboard down the mountain road, his smug smile giving Angela little comfort.
 
Refusing to look at him, she gazed out over the vista of mountains, forests and valleys.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Baxter observed.

"I talk when I have something to say.
 
You wouldn't like what I'm thinking right now."

"You're not getting cold feet, are you?
 
You'd better say 'I do' at the right time or your lover will suffer for your stubbornness."

"I know what I have to do," Angela returned shortly.