The Outlaws: Rafe Page 23

  "Oh, there's Mr. Goodman's office," Angela said with obvious relief. "He'll be glad to know I've returned safely."

  Chandler's confident manner set Angela's teeth on edge. He could believe what he wanted, she thought defiantly. The truth of the matter was she didn't need a man. As soon as she solved the mystery of Baxter's murder she'd have no further use for either Anson or her stepfather.

  Angela had given the miners and their reluctance to work for a woman a great deal of thought during the long trip from Dodge City and had hit upon a solution. She intended to offer twice the normal wages for a day's work. Money talked. She suspected miners would flock to take advantage of her generous offer. But for now she'd bide her time.

  Lawyer Goodman was ecstatic to see Angela safe and sound when she let herself into his office. He leapt from his chair and hugged her exuberantly.

  "My dear Angela, you can't imagine how worried I've been since Mr. Chandler advised me of your disappearance. He claimed you had run off with Mr. Gentry. I didn't know what to think, I just wanted you to be safe and happy. Was Chandler right? Did you go off with Rafe?"

  "I did, though not willingly."

  Goodman searched her face. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

  Only my heart. "No, I'm fine."

  "You appear troubled. How may I help you?"

  Mr. Goodman's concern deeply touched Angela. It gave her courage to speak frankly.

  "What I tell you is to be held in strict confidence, Mr. Goodman," Angela confided.

  "Of course, my dear, your secrets are safe with me."

  "The truth is that Rafe forced me to accompany him, then stranded me in Dodge City. He no longer holds my...regard. I desperately need legal advice concerning our marriage.

  "As you know, Rafe and I were married in Ordway by Reverend Conrad," she continued. "Unfortunately no written record of that marriage exists. But the marriage was witnessed by dozens of people. I want to know how to proceed. Is a divorce necessary under those circumstances?"

  "Are you sure severing ties with Mr. Gentry is what you want, my dear?"

  "Yes," Angela said after a moment's hesitation. "I don't intend to stay married, if indeed I am married, to a man who doesn't want me. How shall I proceed? What about my marriage to Brady Baxter?"

  "I would advise a divorce," Goodman counseled. "You said the exchanging of vows was a public affair, with many witnesses present. Those witnesses can be as valuable as a license in proving that a legal union took place. A divorce is necessary to legally dissolve your marriage to Gentry. Furthermore, your marriage to Baxter was fraudulent. Since he's no longer alive, it's a moot point."

  "Will you handle the details for me?"

  "If that is your wish, I will draw up the papers. I can understand your reluctance to remain married to an outlaw, although it's difficult to imagine Rafe robbing a bank or killing people in cold blood. Come in next week to sign the legal documents and I'll take care of the rest."

  "Thank you, but there is something you should know. Rafe received full pardons for those crimes. All charges have been dropped. The bank robbery was a sham, perpetrated by the banker who has since admitted he lied, and the real killers confessed to the stage robbery and murders in Ordway. There is only one charge remaining against Rafe; that of killing Brady Baxter, and I know Rafe's not guilty."

  "You have a lot of faith in a man who walked out on you," Goodman observed.

  "As a concerned Christian, I would feel the same about any man unjustly charged," Angela claimed. "That's why I hope to prove Rafe didn't murder Brady Baxter."

  "Do you intend to marry that Chandler fellow after you obtain your divorce?"

  "Good Lord, no! I've reason to believe Anson Chandler killed Brady and I intend to prove it. I thought someone I trusted should be aware of my plans."

  "You could be playing with fire, my dear. Why not let the sheriff take care of it?"

  "The law can't see beyond Rafe Gentry. I'll do this on my own."

  "Be careful, Angela, I've grown mighty fond of you." He sighed wistfully. "My own daughter would be about your age now had she not died of fever. Her death hastened that of my beloved wife."

  Angela's heart went out to him. How lonely he must be. "I'm sorry."

  "No need, my dear. It happened a long time ago. I've learned to live with my grief. It's you I'm worried about. You will take care, won't you?"

  "I'll be careful. If Anson Chandler committed murder, he should be brought to trial."

  "Something tells me you care more about Rafe Gentry than you're admitting."

  Angela's chin notched defiantly upward. "I loved Rafe, but he killed whatever feelings I held for him. What I want now is to see justice served. I'll return next week to sign those papers. Good-bye, sir."

  "Better yet," Goodman said, I'll bring them out as soon as they're drawn up. I feel responsible for your welfare."

  Impulsively, Angela kissed his cheek. "Very well. I'll see you soon."

  "It's about time," Dexter complained when Angela returned to the buckboard. "There's a storm brewing. I'd hate for us to be caught in it."

  They reached the Golden Angel minutes ahead of the storm. Winter arrived early in the mountains. Angela felt its bite in the chill wind that buffeted her and in the crisp mountain air that filled her lungs. The aspens had already begun to shed their brilliant golden plumage anda rim of white appeared on the upper elevations of the mountains.

  Dexter jumped from the buckboard and lifted Angela down. "There's going to be a change of weather," he said with a shiver. "The mine will close down for the winter very soon. I think you should move to town during those cold months, my dear."

  "Father lived up here quite comfortably the year around, and so shall I," Angela proclaimed. "The next time I go into town I'll lay in a supply of food to last several months. You and Anson can move to town any time you'd like."

  "Someone has to remain here to protect you," Chandler interjected. "You're far too headstrong and impetuous for your own good. You wouldn't recognize danger if it stared you in the face. You see only good in people."

  "You're wrong there, Anson," Angela argued. "I see people exactly for what they are." You're a greedy man and quite possibly a murderer, she wanted to add.

  Chandler lifted her bag from the buckboard. "I'll come inside with you and lay a fire in the hearth."

  "Very well, if you insist. I hope you don't mind sharing your cabin with Desmond. I doubt it will be for long. He's unaccustomed to living without creature comforts. You did send for him, didn't you?"

  Chandler aimed a warning glance at Dexter. "I merely informed your stepfather that you were missing. He is your next of kin and had a right to know. His coming out here was his own idea. Lucky for you he did or he wouldn't have been available to escort you back to the Golden Angel after Gentry abandoned you."

  Angela entered her cabin with Chandler hard on her heels. "I suppose Desmond told you everything while I was in Mr. Goodman's office."

  "He told me enough," Chandler said. "I already guessed at most of it. I hope you've had your fill of Rafe Gentry."

  "Don't worry, Anson, I believe we've both seen the last of Rafe Gentry."

  "Good riddance," Chandler muttered. "Gentry may have been cleared of those charges in Dodge City and Ordway but he's still wanted for the murder of Brady Baxter."

  "I haven't forgotten," Angela said. "Brady's killer won't go free, I promise you."

  Chandler sent her a curious look but said nothing as he stacked dry wood and kindling in the fireplace. Once he finished, he appeared in no hurry to leave.

  "Thank you," Angela said, "I'll see you tomorrow. The trip has exhausted me."

  "I can stay longer if you need me," Chandler offered, obviously not taking her hint.

  "Thank you, but no. I'd like to be alone."

  "Very well," Chandler said, clearly disgruntled. "But I'd like to leave you with one thought. I'm determined to marry you, Angela. I know you consider yourself still married to Gentry but as
far as I'm concerned that marriage doesn't exist."

  "What about all those witnesses in Ordway?" Angela maintained. "I'm sure it wouldn't be difficult to find people willing to testify that a legal wedding took place."

  Chandler grasped her shoulders and gave her a rough shake. "Admit it, you're glad Baxter is dead. His death solved a lot of problems. I know you married Baxter to save Gentry's skin."

  Angela broke his hold and pushed him away. "You couldn't have known that unless..."

  Chandler went still. "I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. I strongly suggest you keep your suppositions to yourself."

  "Are you threatening me, Anson?"

  "What a silly goose you are," Chandler guffawed. "I have no reason to threaten you. Good night, my dear."

  "Good night, Anson. Tomorrow we'll discuss everything that transpired at the mine during my absence. I'll expect a full accounting."

  Chandler gave her a menacing look, then turned on his heel and strode out the door, slamming it behind him. Angela shot home the bolt and leaned against the door, shaking with repressed anger and a small measure of fear thrown in.

  Never had she felt so alone. She was surrounded by people who cared nothing for her, people who wanted to use her. Even Rafe had used her...and she had let him. Neither she nor Rafe had intended for their association to be a permanent one. She had the Golden Angel and he was an outlaw on the run. But fate kept bringing them together.

  Sighing regretfully at what might have been had Rafe not deserted her, she fixed herself something to eat and went to bed.

  The next two days were busy ones for Angela. Close inspection of the accounts revealed discrepancies in Chandler's records concerning the amount of gold mined and monies deposited in the bank in her account, and she suspected Chandler was lining his pockets at her expense. She let it pass for the time being but intended to have Mr. Goodman confirm her findings.

  Meanwhile, plans were put into effect to close down the mine for the coming winter.

  One day Angela happened to walk behind Chandler's cabin while gathering kindling and heard voices through the open window. She stopped in her tracks when she heard her name spoken.

  "You're getting nowhere with Angela," Dexter chided.

  "She's stubborn, Dexter," came Chandler's disgruntled reply. "You're doing nothing to help."

  "Angela and I agreed on a truce. I promised to stay out of her affairs in return for the pleasure of living in this rustic cabin in this godforsaken country," he said sarcastically. "If it wasn't for her money I wouldn't be living like a hermit on the outskirts of civilization. For godsake, marry the little bitch so we can share her bank account. It galls me to be nice to her."

  "I've done more than you give me credit for," Chandler said.

  Had Angela been able to see him she felt certain he'd be smirking. She sidled closer to the window for Chandler had lowered his voice.

  "What in the hell are you talking about?" Dexter asked.

  "Brady Baxter's murder was rather fortuitous, don't you agree?" Chandler continued. "I was out here the night he was killed."

  "You saw Gentry kill Baxter?" came Dexter's incredulous reply.

  "Not so loud," Chandler hissed.

  Angela jerked back against the wall as the window banged shut. Damn! Just when it was getting interesting. A few moments more and she'd have a full confession from Chandler with Dexter as a witness. Dexter might balk at testifying against Chandler but Angela felt certain money would loosen his tongue once he realized he could no longer use Chandler to cash in on her wealth.

  It wasn't the money Angela cared about. She'd gladly share her wealth or give it up entirely for a man who really loved her. Chandler wasn't that man and Dexter wasn't the kind of stepfather who deserved her consideration. Not after the way they'd plotted together against her.

  She had to admire the fact that Rafe hadn't been impressed with her wealth. He'd seemed genuinely fond of her. What a fool she'd been. She had trusted unwisely and loved recklessly. She had learned her lesson well, one she was not likely to forget.

  Angela made her way back to her cabin and dropped her load of kindling in the woodbox. Dimly she wondered when Mr. Goodman would arrive with the divorce papers for her to sign and considered going into town herself to see the deed done. Perhaps a permanent end to her marriage was just what she needed to put Rafe behind her and get on with her life.

  Angela went to bed that night with a heavy heart. She tried not to think about Rafe but her body kept reminding her how much it missed his touch. Her nipples rose up in shameless anticipation as she recalled the mindless passion he aroused in her. A bitter smile touched her lips. The emptiness inside her was something she had to live with for the remainder of her life. If she had to rely on anger in order to forget Rafe, then so be it.

  Sleep, when it came, was fraught with dreams. She felt Rafe's hands on her body, his kisses against her mouth. Smelled his masculine scent, tasted his essence on her tongue. She awoke abruptly in a cold sweat. She wasn't alone! The jangle of a spur. A shadow outlined against the wall. The slow, steady beat of a heart not her own. Whether real or imagined, she felt his life force pounding within her own breast. Her body tingled in sudden awareness.

  "Who's there?"

  "Hello, Angel."

  "No! Go away!"

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rafe stepped into a puddle of moonlight. Angela could see his face now. The play of shadow and light brought definition to his features, sculpting the bold jut of his jaw, revealing the taut glitter of his gaze, the earthy sensuality that literally oozed from his pores. She tried to blink him away but when she opened her eyes he was still there, his powerful form filling the room. "This can't be happening, not again."

  "I'm not a apparition, Angel, stop looking at me like that."

  "Just when I think I'll never see you again, you turn up. What do you want from me, Rafe Gentry?"

  He moved closer. A measure of alarm swept through her.

  "Things have changed," he said. "I'm no longer wanted for those murders in Ordway. One of the real killers confessed."

  "I know. The stage made a scheduled stop in Ordway and Sheriff Tattersal told me all about it. I can't see how that changes anything. Your farewell note explained your feelings for me quite adequately. What are you doing here? Why do you continue to torment me?"

  He sat on the edge of the bed; she scooted to the opposite edge.

  "Because you never stopped tormenting me. Not a day or night goes by without driving myself crazy wondering what you are doing, who you are with, if you are safe."

  "You brought it on yourself, Rafe. I thought things were fine between us. You abandoned me without a word of explanation. I'm tired of saving your skin. The day you deserted me in Dodge City was the day I stopped caring about you."

  Rafe reached over to strike a match to the lamp. Light illuminated her face, highlighting the misty brilliance of her eyes, shadowing the delicate fabric of her skin. He raised his hand to cup her cheek. She flinched away and Rafe fervently wished he could undo the damage he'd done with that blasted note.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in his wife's sweet scent. Soap and sunshine and her own special fragrance. His groin ached, he grew instantly hard; all ragged and needy inside. His hands reacted independently of his mind as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him. He hadn't meant to touch her; he'd only intended to explain his actions that day in Dodge City. He hoped she'd forgive him but feared it was asking too much from her.

  Rafe felt her resistance, sensed her reluctance, her fear,

  and knew he deserved her scorn. God, he wanted to kiss her!

  "You're not going to hoodwink me again, Rafe Gentry," Angela charged. "How dare you think you can pop in and out of my life like jack-in-the-box! Do you think I'm a toy, patiently waiting for you to come to me at your convenience?"

  "Dammit, Angel, I don't think that at all! Will you hear me out?"

  "Why? I won't believe you?
" Angela hissed. "I've been a fool where you're concerned, Rafe. Just when I've convinced myself I'll never see you again, you turn up like a bad penny. I don't want to hear your explanation. Nothing you can tell me will change my mind about you."

  "Have you and your stepfather reconciled?"

  Angela's eyes narrowed. "How do you know Desmond is here? Have you been spying on me again?"

  "It doesn't matter how I know." Angel was in no mood to listen, anyway.

  "Before you leave, there's something you should know," Angela said. "I'm filing for divorce. Mr. Goodman is drawing up the papers for my signature."

  Rafe reared back and stared at her. Her words were like a blow to the gut. "Had I known you were filing for divorce I wouldn't have bothered gathering signatures of people who witnessed our marriage."

  She looked confused. "You did that? Why?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  "Nothing is obvious where you're concerned, Rafe. You're the most thoroughly confusing man I've ever met. At least I know where I stand with Desmond and Anson."

  "And where is that, Angel?" Rafe asked with taut disapproval. "Are you planning to marry Chandler?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but I wouldn't marry Anson if he were the last man on earth."

  "Why is he still here?" Rafe challenged.

  "Because I intend to prove he killed Brady Baxter!" Angela all but shouted.

  Stunned, Rafe stared at her. "I thought you didn't care what happened to me."

  Her chin rose defiantly. "I don't."

  He gave her a lopsided grin. "Then why are you so anxious to prove my innocence?"

  "You should know the answer to that. I can't stand to see an innocent man falsely accused of a crime. It assaults my sense of justice. I learned from Reverend Conrad that each person is responsible not only for himself but for his fellow man. I know you're not a killer, Rafe."

  "Your purity and goodness humbles me, Angel. I don't deserve you."

  "My thoughts exactly," Angela returned. "My heart can stand only so much pain."