The Outlaws: Rafe (47 page)

"Let me worry about that.
 
Go to sleep."

Rafe waited until Angela fell asleep before scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for his guns.
 
Sliding them out of his gunbelt, he placed them under his pillow.
 
Only then did he allow himself to relax.
 
Finally, he slept.

Rafe awakened first.
 
Sunshine streamed through the shutters.
 
It appeared as if the early storm had blown itself out, leaving clear blue skies and sunshine, which wasn't an unusual occurrence in Colorado.
 
He shook Angela awake.

"Wake up, sweetheart.
 
It's daylight."

Angela stretched, felt the warmth of Rafe's body beside her, and smiled.

"I hope that smile is for me."

She opened her eyes.
 
"I thought I'd dreamed you."

"Like a bad penny, I keep turning up.
 
Open the shutters."

Angela threw back the blanket and gasped as cold air hit her warm skin.
 
"Oh, it's freezing."
 
She drew on a warm robe and stepped into a pair of slippers.
 
Then she went to the window and opened the shutters.

"Oh, look!
 
The sun is shining and the snow is beginning to melt."

Rafe balanced himself on an elbow and gazed out the window.
 
"Last night's storm was a freak of nature.
 
I'll wager we'll have a few days of Indian summer before winter arrives for good."

"Do you think the road up to the mine will be open?"

"Muddy, perhaps, but negotiable.
 
Are you sure Goodman will arrive the sheriff?"

"I'm as certain as I can be.
 
They won't know you're here, though.
 
No one does.
 
You're safe as long as you remain in the bedroom."

"What are you going to tell the sheriff?"

"The truth as I know it about Brady's murder.
 
He has to believe me.
 
If only Desmond hadn't left.
 
He seemed so anxious to get his hands on the money I offered him."

"Perhaps he didn't leave willingly," Rafe suggested.

"You don't think he..."

A commotion at the front door halted her in mid-sentence.

"It's Anson," Angela hissed.

Anson's voice, accompanied by loud pounding reverberated through the cabin.

"I came to apologize, Angela," Anson shouted through the door.
 
"I wasn't myself yesterday.
 
Open up.
 
Give me another chance to prove I can be the kind of man you need."

"I'm not dressed, Anson," Angela called back.

"I'll wait, Angela.
 
I want to apologize to your face."

"What shall I do?" Angela whispered.

"Stall him.
 
Tell him anything."

"Angela, please.
 
I promise to be on my best behavior," Chandler whined.

Angela moved to the door.
 
"Come back later, Anson, after I've made myself presentable."

"You're stalling."

"I swear I'm not.
 
Besides, how do I know you'll behave if I let you in?"

"You have my word.
 
Give me a chance to persuade you that marrying me is best for both you and the Golden Angel.
 
I'll court you until your divorce is granted and I'll not force you, if that's what's worrying you.
 
I never realized you could be so fierce.
 
I was foolish to underestimate your determination."

"Tell him you'll hear him out when he returns, but he should give you enough time to dress and eat breakfast," Rafe whispered.

Angela relayed the message.

"If you insist," came Anson's petulant reply.

"Don't forget," Angela added, "I still have my gun and know how to use it."

"I won't forget," Anson mumbled.

'He's gone," Angela said, moving away from the door.
 
"I'll build up the fire and fix us something to eat.
 
"We can decide what to do while we're eating."

Angela ate in the kitchen then prepared a tray for Rafe.
 
While he ate, she fetched a shirt and pair of trousers that had belonged to her father.
 
She cut off the right leg to accommodate the splint and helped him to dress.

"I know what I have to do," Rafe said after he drained the last drop of coffee from his cup.

Angela liked neither his grim tone nor the way his mouth tautened.
 
"What is that?"

"When you let Chandler inside I'm going to meet him with both guns drawn and order him off the property."

"What if he refuses?"

"That's his problem," Rafe said tersely.
 
"I'll do what I have to do to make sure he doesn't bother you again.
 
I can shoot straight even if I can't walk."

"No!
 
If you kill Anson we'll have no way to prove your innocence.
 
There's got to be another way."

"There's no other way, Angel."

"I won't let you be carted off to jail again."

Rafe smiled wearily.
 
"I'm tired of running, Angel.
 
Mr. Goodman is a capable lawyer, I'll ask him to defend me.
 
It's a chance I have to take in order to protect you from Chandler."

Angela's mouth turned downward.
 
There was no way she was going to allow Rafe to act unwisely or rot jail for a murder he didn't commit.
 
She'd think of something, she had to.

Angela was ready when Chandler knocked on the door a short time later.
 
When she'd returned to the kitchen to fetch Rafe another cup of coffee she added a liberal dose of laudanum.
 
He'd fallen asleep in the middle of a sentence.
 
She knew he'd be livid when he awakened but it was the only way she knew how to keep him from killing someone or getting killed himself.

"Are you going to let me in, Angela?" Chandler called through the closed door.

"Only if you behave," Angela returned.

"I said I would."

Angela cast an anxious glance at the closed bedroom door and prayed that she'd given Rafe enough laudanum to keep him from interfering.

"Very well."

She patted her pocket to reassure herself that her gun was still there and opened the door to admit Chandler.
 
At this point she had no idea what she intended to do, but anything was better than allowing a confrontation between Anson and Rafe.

"It's about time," Chandler complained as he strode through the open door.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" Angela asked.

"Don't pretend with me, my dear.
 
You're up here all alone; you need someone to protect you, someone who can direct the miners at their work.
 
You know from experience how reluctant they are to work for a woman.
 
There's enough wealth for both of us to share.
 
Our marriage can be a positive step for both of us."

"I'm still married to Rafe."

He pulled her against him.
 
"I can wait for the ceremony.
 
Getting you with child is the first step in cementing our alliance."

Angela wrested free and took an involuntary step backward.
 
"Touch me and you're a dead man."

Chandler stepped back.
 
"Do you still have that blasted gun?"

"I wouldn't have let you inside if I wasn't armed.
 
Sit down, let's discuss this like civilized people."

"I don't feel civilized," Chandler grumbled as he dropped down into the nearest chair.
 
"You can't begin to know the things I've done to get what I want."

Angela's heart nearly stopped.
 
Finally!
 
Finally an opening to delve into the truth.

"Why don't you tell me what you've done, Anson," Angela said sweetly.
 
"Maybe I'd appreciate you more if I knew what you'd done to achieve your goal.
 
Strong men intrigue me."

Chandler gave her a suspicious glance, but Angela knew she'd struck a nerve when he preened for her benefit.

"You think I'm a strong man?
 
Funny you never mentioned it before."

"Indeed I do.
 
You've never given up on me, that's more than I can say about Rafe Gentry.
 
Tell me, Anson," she whispered seductively, "tell me something that will convince me that you're not a sniveling coward."

Chandler bristled indignantly.
 
"Sniveling coward!
 
You wouldn't call me that if you only knew."

"Knew what?" Angela taunted.
 
Even if no one else heard Anson's confession her word should count for something.

Anson stared at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust her sudden interest in him.
 
"Why should I trust you?"

"Why not?
 
We're alone.
 
No one can hear what you say.
 
Besides, it might influence me in your behalf."

While Angela and Chandler bandied words, two riders approached the mine.
 
They reined in a short distance down the road in order to assess the situation.

"You'd better know what you're talking about," Sheriff Diller said to his much older companion.
 
"Are you certain Mrs. Gentry is in danger?"

"As sure as I am of sitting here on this horse," Lawyer Goodman averred.
 
"Her message yesterday came to me loud and clear.
 
Thank God the storm abated and the roads weren't in as bad a shape as we thought."

"Hmmm," Diller said, stroking his chin.
 
"If you're right, I don't want to go busting in there and endangering the woman's life.
 
Let's tie our horses here and walk the rest of the way.
 
That way we can nosy around without raising attention to ourselves."

"Good idea," Goodman said, dismounting.
 
"There is plenty of cover around the site if we decide to take a look around without being seen."

"You did say Mrs. Gentry was alone out here with Anson Chandler, didn't you?"

"I did," Goodman said.
 
"I told you what he said about not waiting for a marriage ceremony to get a baby on Angela.
 
And you are aware, of course, that Angela believes Chandler killed Brady Baxter.
 
I truly believe Chandler presents a grave danger to Angela."

"Then we'd best find out what's going on," Diller said.
 
"Let's go."

Frustration gnawed at Angela.
 
Anson was leaning close, preparing to confide in her, and as luck would have it, no one was around to hear his confession.
 
If only...
 
She glanced out the window to contemplate her problem and started violently when she glimpsed two faces pressed against the pane.
 
Sheriff Diller and Mr. Goodman!
 
Fearing Anson would see the same thing she had, she jumped to her feet and walked toward the kitchen, away from the window.

"Where are you going?" Chandler asked, turning to follow her.
 
"I thought you wanted to hear what I had to say.?

"I just made fresh coffee," Angela improvised.
 
"I thought you might like some before we have our talk."

"Why thank you, Angela, coffee sounds wonderful.
 
My own tastes like mud."
 
His brow furrowed.
 
"You're not going to try to leave through the back door, are you?"

"No, I have no intention of walking away from you.
 
I'm more than anxious for you to convince me you're not a coward."
 
She glanced toward the window, relieved to note the faces had disappeared.
 
"I'll be right back."

Chandler appeared lost in thought as Angela ducked into the kitchen.
 
She made a beeline for the back door and prayed it wouldn't squeak as she cracked it open.
 
Her prayers were more than answered when the sheriff and Goodman slipped inside.
 
She motioned for silence and nodded her head toward the parlor.

"Angela, are you still there?"

Chandler's voice sounded petulant and Angela was quick to answer.
 
"I'm still here, Anson."
 
She carefully poured out two cups of coffee.
 
"Do you like sugar in your coffee?"