The Outlaws: Rafe (42 page)

Goodman waited until after they had finished lunch before producing the petition for divorce he had drawn up for Angela's signature.

"You'll find everything in order," Goodman said, spreading the document before Angela.
 
"Sign here."
 
He pointed to a place at the end of the document.
 
"I hope you're aware that I can't promise a quick dissolution of your marriage.
 
These things take time, you know."

Angela stared at the paper for a breathless moment, then tore it into small pieces.
 
"I've changed my mind."

Goodman didn't seem at all surprised.
 
"May I ask why?"

"I've seen Rafe.
 
He explained his reason for deserting me in Dodge City to my satisfaction."
 
She launched into a shortened version of the story Rafe had told her.

"And you believe him?"

"Not at first.
 
It took a long time for him to convince me.
 
Rafe may be a lot of things but he's not a liar.
 
I'm determined to prove he didn't kill Brady Baxter."

"Where is Mr. Gentry now?"

"Nearby," Angela said, fearing to reveal Rafe's hiding place to anyone, even a man she trusted.

"How may I help?"

"By not repeating what I have just told you."

"You have no worry on that score, my dear.
 
Are you still convinced of Chandler's guilt?"

"More than ever.
 
In fact, I'm convinced he admitted his guilt to Desmond.
 
I think I've figured out how to get Desmond to tell what he knows to the sheriff.
 
I know Desmond.
 
He'd betray his own mother for money."

"Does Rafe know what you're planning?"

Angela studied her hands.
 
"Not exactly."

"Just as I thought.
 
I want to be with you when you confront your stepfather."

"I have to do this my way.
 
I have to wait for the right moment."

"I don't like it, Angela.
 
What if Chandler gets wind of it?"

"He won't.
 
I'll be careful, I promise.
 
Once Desmond agrees to my terms, we'll head right down to the sheriff's office.
 
The only way Rafe and I can have a future together is to bring the man who killed Baxter to justice."

"Very well, my dear, I'll stay out of it for the time being.
 
When do you intend to close down the mine for the winter?"

"Today is the last full workday.
 
The miners are storing tools and putting things in order for their return next spring."

"Tell you what.
 
If I don't see you and Dexter in town within...say the next three days, I'm coming up here and take you to town myself.
 
You can afford to stay at the best hotel the town has to offer."

"That's too soon.
 
Make it five days and you have a deal."

"If she couldn't convince Desmond to betray Chandler in five days then nothing was going to change his mind.
 
Should she fail, she and Rafe could flee, live someplace where no one knew them.
 
She had enough money for both of them to live on for the rest of their lives.
 
They could buy a ranch in Montana, or a farm in California.
 
Rafe was more important to her than the mine.
 
It had taken a while to realize that but she knew without a doubt that she would choose Rafe over the mine any day.

With marked reluctance Goodman left.
 
Angela gathered up the bank drafts for the men, put on a warm wrap, and went out to find Chandler.
 
She found him near the mine entrance.

"I've brought the miners' paychecks," Angela said, handing the drafts to Chandler for distribution.
 
"I've included a small bonus for each man.
 
Tell them we'll be needing workers next spring and we hope they'll return.
 
Your check is in there, too, Anson.
 
You should see about accommodations in town."

"Absolutely not," Chandler retorted.
 
"Now that the mine is closed down I'll have more time to devote to you.
 
How does a Christmas wedding sound?"

"You should ask the woman you intend to marry that question.
 
Have you seen my stepfather?
 
I need to speak with him."

Chandler's lips flattened.
 
"Dammit, Angela, you know our marriage is inevitable.
 
You need me."

"You're wrong, Desmond, I don't need you."
 
Whirling on her heel, she walked away.

Three days passed before she found the opportunity to speak to Dexter in private.
 
She encountered him leaving the privy and asked him to join her in her cabin for a private word.

"What is this about, Angela?
 
I know your lawyer was here the other day.
 
Shouldn't I have been called to represent you?"

"I'm quite capable of representing myself, thank you.
 
My business with Mr. Goodman is a private matter."

"Humph," Dexter spat.
 
"You always were a conniving little...witch.
 
All that aside, I've been thinking about moving to town for the winter, but I'm short of funds.
 
It's not right that you should hold the purse strings."

"If this is about money, Desmond, I think I have a solution to your problem."

Dexter's face lifted.
 
"You've agreed to marry Chandler!"

"Hardly.
 
Come to my cabin where we can talk without Anson interrupting us.

"If this is some trick, daughter, I'll have none of it.
 
I'm still your guardian."

"My husband is my guardian and I'm not your daughter," Angela contended.

"You have no husband."

"The entire city of Ordway would argue that point with you.
 
Are you coming or not?"

"Only if you agree to part with some of your money."

"I promise you won't be disappointed with my generosity, Desmond, if you agree to my terms."

"Sit down, Desmond," Angela invited as they entered the cabin.

Neither she nor Dexter noticed that a curious Anson had seen them conversing and followed behind at a discreet distance.
 
Nor did they see him make his way around the back of the cabin and slip through the back door.
 
Flattened himself against the kitchen wall, he listened intently to their conversation.

"Just say what you wanted to say and give me the money so I can leave," Desmond said, warming his hands before the fire.
 
"If you and Chandler were wise you'd follow my example and find lodgings in town for the winter."

"Perhaps I will," Angela hedged.
 
"The reason I asked for a private word with you is to tell you that I know Anson is lining his pockets with my gold."

Divide and conquer, Angela thought smugly.
 
It was an old ploy that just might work.

"How do you know?" Dexter challenged.

"The figures in the books don't add up.
 
Anson is wrong if he thinks I'm stupid.
 
I'm very good at adding and subtracting."

"The bastard has been holding out on me," Dexter muttered darkly.
 
"Some friend he turned out to be.
 
He'd better share with me after you two are married."

"For the last time, Desmond, I'm
not
going to marry Anson."

Dexter's eyes narrowed.
 
"Accidents happen, you know.
 
The same thing that happened to your father could happen to you.
 
As your next of kin, I stand to inherit."

"Your threats don't worry me.
 
You inquired about Lawyer Goodman's recent visit, did you not?" Angela said.
 
"He drew up a will for me to sign."

Dexter blanched.
 
"A will?
 
Why would you need a will?"

"For the same reason anyone needs a will.
 
This will has a special provision.
 
Should anything unforeseen happen to me and I die without issue, the mine is to be sold and the proceeds given to charity.
 
The money in my bank account is to be used to open an orphanage and build a church.
 
Not a cent will go to either you or Anson."

Actually, inventing a nonexistent will had just occurred to Angela.
 
And it coincided nicely with Mr. Goodman's recent visit.
 
If either Anson or Desmond had thoughts of harming her, the will would provide a powerful deterrent.
 
In fact, having a will drawn up might be a good idea in any event.
 
She wanted Rafe to have everything that had been hers.

"You little bitch!" Dexter shouted.
 
"I should have known you'd find a way to thwart my plans."
 
He shoved to his feet and began to pace.

"Sit down, Desmond," Angela said.
 
"I told you I was going to help you and I will."

Eyeing her warily, Dexter perched on the edge of a chair.
 
"What's in that devious little mind of yours, Angela?"

Angela leaned close, her voice lowered to a whisper.
 
"I'll give you ten thousand dollars if you'll tell the sheriff what you know about Brady Baxter's death."

"What!" he blustered.
 
"Everyone knows Rafe Gentry killed Baxter.
 
I wasn't even here when it happened."

"But we both know Rafe didn't kill Baxter."

"I know no such thing."

"I overheard you and Anson discussing Baxter's death one day when I happened to pass behind your cabin collecting for kindling for the stove.
 
I always suspected Anson killed Brady but couldn't prove it.
 
Now I have a witness to his confession.
 
You."

"What?
 
How dare you eavesdrop!
 
Besides," he said more reasonably, "You're mistaken.
 
I can't recall that conversation."

"Listen carefully, Desmond," Angela said.
 
"I've fixed it so you'll never touch a cent of my inheritance.
 
You've no funds of your own.
 
You're completely dependent on my good will."

"It wasn't always that way," Dexter defended.
 
"I ran a profitable family business.
 
I can't help it if I made a few unwise investments.
 
At least I was smart enough to sell out and come away with a tidy profit.
 
Unfortunately your mother's illness exhausted all my resources."

"Don't blame my mother's illness on your own ineptitude," Angela blasted.
 
"You liked gambling too well and you had no head for investments.
 
The family business was only profitable until your father died and left you on your own.
 
You're no businessman, Desmond, that's why you hatched that unholy plan to marry me to Anson and share my inheritance.
 
That didn't work so now you have nothing.
 
Agree to my terms and you'll have money again, enough to live the way you wish."

"On a measly ten thousand?" Dexter guffawed.
 
"Surely the price of my betrayal is worth more than that to you."

Aware of Desmond's mercenary nature, Angela had already considered sweetening the pot.
 
She could well afford it.
 
"Very well, Anson, this is my final offer.
 
Twenty-five thousand in gold.
 
You tell the sheriff what you know, collect your gold, and leave town.
 
I don't ever want to see you or hear from you again."

"What if I refuse your 'generous' offer?" Desmond growled.

"You can't afford to.
 
Anson has done nothing to earn your loyalty.
 
There is no way, legal or otherwise, that you and Anson can get your hands on any part of my inheritance."

"I should have beaten you when you were a child," Anson muttered.
 
"Maybe you'd be more manageable now had I done so."

Angela's patience was swiftly eroding.
 
"What will it be, Desmond?
 
The choice is yours.
 
Live comfortably on my largess or find work to support yourself."

"You drive a hard bargain, daughter."

Angela grit her teeth against the frustration riding her.
 
"I'm protecting my interests.
 
Mine and Rafe's."