The Outlaws: Rafe (25 page)

An angry flush suffused Angela's face.
 
She didn't like the idea of people thinking she and Chandler were romantically involved.
 
But for the time being, it appeared to be the only way to bring workers to the mine.
 
Men were a strange breed, she silently fumed.
 
Women weren't supposed to have brains, and woe be to them who didn't fit the mold.
 
Men considered women mindless creatures with little to commend them but their bodies and their housekeeping capabilities.

"Just don't get too comfortable with what you told the men," Angela warned.
 
"I have no intention of marrying you, Anson.
 
The only reason I'm letting you have your way is because I need men to work the mine."

Angela had done a lot of thinking since Baxter's death.
 
If Rafe hadn't killed him, someone else did.
 
To her way of thinking, Chandler was a logical suspect, and she hoped that having him around where she could watch him would eventually lead to the truth.
 
The thought that Rafe had killed in cold blood was becoming increasingly difficult to believe, and she intended to do everything humanly possible to prove his innocence.

"I'm going to change your mind, Angela," Chandler promised, leaning so close Angela felt a compelling urge to slap his face.
 
Instead, she backed away.

 
"You need a man to show you the error of your ways, my dear," Chandler continued smoothly.
 
"A woman is no substitute for a man no matter how smart or accomplished she thinks she may be.
 
I'm determined to become your husband and take care of you."

Angela felt like laughing in his face.
 
"I don't need a man to show me anything, much less the error of my ways.
 
All I require of you is your cooperation.
 
You can stay as long as you keep men up here working the mine.
 
If I were you, I'd learn all I could about mining.
 
You don't want the miners thinking they're taking orders from a fraud."

Chandler's smile turned downward into a scowl.
 
"Look who's calling the pot black.
 
You have no room to talk.
 
You married a stranger, an outlaw, simply to save him from a hangman, Sister Angela.
 
Don't worry, I'll do my job, and one day you'll realize I'm the kind of man you need.
 
Meanwhile, I'll move my things into Baxter's cabin, unless," he added slyly, "you invite me to share your bed."

Preferring not to alienate him before she had the information she sought, Angela held her tongue, but her eyes blazed defiance.
 
"You're welcome to Baxter's cabin, Anson, but don't push your luck."

Whirling on her heel, head held high, she left him standing with a half smile hanging on the corner of his lips.
 
Angela knew what he wanted to happen and it pleased her no end to know it never would.

Several days passed.
 
The mining operation seemed to be going well, but Angela's subtle hints about Chandler's knowledge of Baxter's death brought only frustration.

One evening Chandler stopped by Angela's cabin to report on a new tunnel just opened.
 
He made himself at home on the battered sofa while he gave his report.
 
While he rattled on, Angela searched her mind for ways to broach the subject of Baxter again without raising Chandler's suspicion.

When he finished his report and appeared in no hurry to leave, Angela rushed into the void.
 
"In the short time you've been here you've done a credible job, Anson."

Chandler appeared pleased by her praise.
 
"I'm making you wealthier than Midas, my dear."

"The foreman is experienced, and that helps," Angela said.
 
"Brady knew what he was doing when he hired Jim Cady."

"Baxter, bah!" Chandler scoffed.
 
"I was livid when I learned when you had married him, but his sudden death proved fortunate for both of us, eh?"
 
He gave her a smug grin.
 
"A stroke of luck, really.
 
If I hadn't been here and seen...
 
Well, never mind.
 
Good riddance to both Baxter and Gentry, I say.
 
They were in my way."

Angela pretended confusion.
 
"I don't know what you're hinting at, Anson.
 
I told the sheriff that Rafe wasn't at the mine the night Brady was killed."

"We both knew better, don't we, Angela?"

Angela opened her mouth to offer a protest but Chandler forestalled her.
 
"No, don't lie.
 
Don't say anything.
 
Just forget this conversation took place.
 
The less you know about Baxter's death the better off you'll be."

"What do you know about Brady's death, Anson?
 
You can tell me.
 
I liked Brady no better than you did.
 
We married for convenience's sake.
 
I consider it a blessing that he...died on our wedding night.
 
I'm just not convinced Rafe killed him."

Chandler sent her a sharp look.
 
"You're too curious for your own good.
 
I suggest you turn your thoughts in another direction.
 
It's healthier to believe Gentry killed Baxter.
 
What's another murder to a man like him?"

His thinly veiled threat gave her pause for thought.
 
She knew she was on the right track now.
 
"It's late, you'd better leave," Angela said, rising.
 
Chandler's remarks tonight were solid proof that he knew more than he was letting on about Baxter's death.

Chandler stood, surprising Angela when he grasped her arm and swung her around to face him.
 
"I don't have to leave.
 
We both know you're no longer a virgin; you have no need to pretend coyness with me.
 
If you need some loving, I can give you what you're craving."

"You assume too much," Angela retorted.
 
"I don't need a thing from you, Anson Chandler."

He stood his ground, refusing to be dislodged as she tried to free herself.
 
His arm snaked around her waist, bringing her hard against him, making escape impossible.
 
When she tried to turn her head aside, he grasped her chin and held it in place for his kiss.
 
His mouth slammed down on hers.
 
She tasted blood.
 
When he tried to deepen the kiss, Angela's anger soared.
 
Mustering her strength, she bit down hard on his tongue.
 
His response was immediate and gratifying.

Howling like a banshee, he pushed Angela away, his eyes narrowed in fury.
 
"What in the hell was that for?"

"For taking liberties," Angela responded, backing away and wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand.

"A kiss is the least you owe me for providing you with workers.
 
I can leave and take them with me," he threatened.
 
"They'd never work for a woman."

Angela couldn't allow that to happen.
 
But kissing Anson was repugnant to her.
 
"Perhaps when I know you better..." she hedged.

"You bedded Gentry without knowing a damn thing about him.
 
I'm not hard to look at, what do you have against me."

"You're a handsome man, Anson," Angela said, choking on the words.
 
"Perhaps, when you decide to trust me, we can become closer."

His eyes narrowed.
 
"I don't know what you're talking about."

Angela sent him an inscrutable look.
 
"Don't you?
 
I think you know more about Baxter's death than you're letting on.
 
Please leave now.
 
It's late and I wish to retire."

Chandler appeared stunned by Angela's words as she pushed him out the door and locked it behind him.
 
Once Chandler was gone, she leaned against the panel, her relief palpable as she considered everything Chandler had revealed about Baxter's death.
 
In time, she expected to wring every last detail from him.

Moving away from the door and into the bedroom, Angela's mind turned to Rafe, and the angry words they had exchanged before he lit out.
 
She knew now she had been wrong to accuse him of murder.
 
At the time the accusation seemed reasonable, even though she wasn't thinking reasonably right then.
 
Now she knew better.
 
If what she suspected was true, she had to prove Chandler was involved in Baxter's murder before Rafe was off the hook.

She owed Rafe that much for accusing him of a crime without sufficient proof.
 
She should ride into town tomorrow and talk to Mr. Goodman about it, she decided.
 
Even if she never saw Rafe again she'd have the satisfaction of knowing she'd removed one charge from his roster of crimes.
 
Only a miracle would clear Rafe of all the crimes he was supposed to have committed.

Angela undressed quickly, donned her nightgown and slid into bed.
 
Almost reverently she touched the pillow next to her, recalling the man who had recently lain beside her.
 
Rafe Gentry.
 
Her husband.
 
A man comparable to none.
 
Would she ever see him again?
 
Would he ever forgive her for accusing him unjustly?
 
Probably not.
 
Rafe wasn't a forgiving kind of man.

She sighed.
 
How could she
not
think Rafe guilty when he'd been the last person to see Baxter alive?
 
But now that another suspect had entered the picture, her belief in Rafe's innocence had been restored and she felt like such a fool for accusing him unjustly.

Rafe wasn't as far away as Angela suspected.
 
No matter what he'd told her, no matter how dangerous it was for him to linger in the area, Rafe couldn't make himself to ride away from Angel.
 
And how right he'd been.
 
He'd seen more than enough to know that Angel was doing what Angel did best...getting into trouble.

For the past several days Rafe had been holed up in the cave above the mine, the same cave he'd used before.
 
He'd easily lost the posse in the mountains, then backtracked, erasing his tracks by tying a thick branch to his saddle.

Rafe spent his idle time keeping a close watch on Angel and the activity taking place at the mine.
 
Concealing himself behind bushes above the mine, Rafe noted that the Golden Angel was in full production.
 
He recognized Jim Cady and a few others who had worked for Baxter, but what had shocked him utterly was seeing Anson Chandler strutting about as if he owned the place.

From what little he could gather, it appeared as if Angel and Chandler were on good terms, and that Chandler was taking over as boss.
 
What was Angel thinking? he fumed.
 
How could she flit from man to man as easily as changing her blouse?
 
First Baxter and now Chandler.
 
Was there a side to Angel he didn't know?
 
He'd been right to return, Rafe thought.
 
It didn't matter that she thought him a murderer, he couldn't let a woman as helpless as his Angel fend for herself.
 
Seeing Chandler at the Golden Angel just proved his point.

Rafe was watching from his vantage point above the mine when he saw Chandler follow Angel inside her cabin after the workers had departed for the night.
 
Rage roiled inside him.
 
She was like an innocent babe when it came to men.
 
She had married him, hadn't she?
 
Which more than proved his point.

When Chandler failed to leave right away, Rafe grew wild with jealousy.
 
Ignoring the danger, he climbed down the hillside and crept toward the cabin.
 
Blending into the purple shadows, he crouched beneath a window.
 
He paused a moment to catch his breath, then he lifted his head to peer into the room.
 
What he saw made him want to howl in outrage.

His Angel
was in Chandler's arms, kissing him.
 
He recalled the countless times she'd professed to hate Chandler and he wanted to burst into the cabin and tear her out of Chandler's arms.
 
Damn, damn, damn!
 
He had to do something to save his fickle Angel from doing something she'd regret later.

Having seen all he cared to see, Rafe dropped down below the sill, his mind in a turmoil.
 
Angel was too vulnerable to be left on her own and he felt his decision to return had been vindicated when he'd found her involved in a new kind of danger.
 
He had to do something, but what?
 
She had already found him guilty of murder, so it didn't matter what he did now, he supposed.