Angel

Chapter 15

Cassie wasn’t taking any chances on having another carriage ride with Angel like the last one. Having the supplies she needed to buy delivered would require paying extra, but that was a minor irritation compared with enduring Angel’s proximity again. Telling him there was no need to accompany her to town had been a waste of time. He took his role as her self-appointed protector very seriously.

Riding her horse, of course, required wearing the durable divided skirt that she used on the range, as well as the short, shapeless deerskin jacket that went with it. Her stylish Eastern clothes didn’t suit a Western saddle, nor did hairpins. Her gun belt did, though. For once it didn’t look quite so ridiculous resting on her hip.

She hadn’t given her casual appearance a thought, however, until she found the folks of Caully staring at her as if they didn’t recognize her. Having Angel at her side drew even more attention. And she got to see firsthand how people reacted to him. They gave him a wide berth. Whatever premises he entered quickly vacated. Store owners and clerks wouldn’t meet his eyes, hoping if they ignored him he’d just leave.

Cassie shouldn’t have been surprised. Despite what had happened the other night, Angel still made her uncomfortable, too, particularly when he was silent, which he’d been since they’d left the ranch this morning. She’d left her carriage at home for that very reason. Yet she still found herself embarrassed on his account at the way folks treated him.

Upon leaving the general store, she got up the nerve to broach the subject. “Does it bother you that you make people nervous, Angel?” It was getting easier to say his name without blushing.

He was scanning the street in both directions, so he didn’t look at her. “Why should it?”

“It must make it hard for you to get to know people.”

He glanced down at her then, his black eyes revealing nothing. “Who says I want to?”

She shrugged, letting it rest. But his answer left her unaccountably sad, which in turn made her annoyed with herself for trying once again to discern his feelings. He probably didn’t have any. He was probably as stone-cold dead inside as his eyes made you think he was. And why should she care if that was so?

His eyes were scanning again, a habit she associated with his profession. But she noticed they stopped more than once on the Last Keg Saloon down the street. He probably wanted a drink, but wasn’t willing to leave her alone long enough to get one. Or maybe he wanted something else. Most of the saloons in Caully had a number of women who worked both upstairs and down.

The thought put a dour expression on Cassie’s lips and made her tone excessively prim. “I’m finished for today. I’m sure I can get home without being ambushed or anything like that if you have some things you need to do in town.”

“I did want to ask around about Slater, since his friend, Sam, couldn’t say where he’d head to, but it can wait till I’m alone.”

He looked at her again to say it, so he didn’t see the man who rode around a corner behind him just then. Cassie did, and her mouth dropped open. Speak of the devil, and he was riding right in their direction.

“Actually — I forgot something — in the store,” Cassie said quickly. “We need to go back inside—”

“Go ahead. I’ll get the horses.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back into the store. “I need your help to pick—”

She was cut off again, but this time by the shout that came from behind them. “Hey, you!”

Angel turned so fast, Cassie was jerked around with him. And there was nothing she could do now to keep him from noticing Rafferty Slater, who was stopping his horse only a few feet away from them.

“You Angel?” Rafferty asked once he had dismounted and stepped up onto the boardwalk. Angel just nodded. “I heard you was lookin‘ for me.”

“And who might you be?”

“Rafferty Slater.”

Had Cassie thought Angel’s eyes never showed emotion? Now they blazed with such satisfaction that she was filled with dread, knowing why. But unexpectedly another, more powerful feeling joined it, a need to prevent and protect. She’d never experienced anything like it, and it was utterly ridiculous. There was no one less in need of protection than Angel. But her emotions didn’t take that into account.

For someone who wasn’t the impulsive sort, Cassie let her emotions guide her right into the fire. “I’m challenging you to a gunfight, Rafferty,” she said, moving forward. “I believe you know why.”

Angel let out an expletive. Rafferty stared at her blankly for a moment before he started laughing. Cassie really wished people would take her and her Colt a little more seriously.

“You got one second to make yourself scarce,” Angel told her.

She spared him the briefest glance just to determine if his expression was as furious as his tone. It was, so she looked back toward Rafferty while she tried reasoning with Angel.

Amazingly, under the circumstances, she did it with calm and logic. “I think you should let me shoot him. I swore I would if he ever touched me again.”

“So swear something else. This one is mine.”

“But I’m the one he accosted the other night,” she reminded him.

Angel didn’t address that; he just said, “Go back in the store, Cassie.”

“You aren’t listening to me.”

“Damned right. Now get!”

With an order like that, and with an arm shoving her behind him to help her on her way, she should have gone, but she didn’t. She wrung her hands, racking her mind for another way to prevent the showdown that was coming, but Angel wasn’t going to oblige her with enough time to think of something.

“I don’t usually do this, Slater,” he said as he tucked his slicker back out of the way, “but for you I’m making an exception. Where do you want it, out in the street or where you’re standing?”

Rafferty didn’t look impressed or the least bit intimidated. He grinned and spit out a sliver of wood he’d been chewing on.

“I’d a stuck around the other night if I hadn’t had a belly full of rotgut. But I’m sober now, and don’t much like the idea of you doggin‘ my trail. The street’s fine with me, friend, but you ask me, the little lady ain’t worth your dyin’ over.”

“So who asked you?”

Rafferty merely chuckled and extended an arm, indicating Angel should proceed him into the street. Cassie found Rafferty’s confidence appalling. She’d been right to worry about him, and as Angel stepped off the boardwalk, she saw why. Rafferty had had no intention of facing Angel in a fair fight. He went for his gun the second Angel’s back was to him.

Cassie drew her gun but shouted, “Look out!” just to be safe. She still fired. Angel also fired. Rafferty’s bullet hit the dirt at his feet as he dropped facedown in the street.

At such close range, smoke from the three discharges stung Cassie’s eyes. And she realized, as she watched Angel shove the downed man over with his foot, that she could have kept her own gun holstered. Angel had turned and shot Rafferty before she’d even finished her warning.

She came up beside Angel to stare at the two bullet wounds, one in the shoulder, meant to immobilize, and one directly over the heart, meant to kill. Both had done as intended, and the results were quite sickening.

“You should have let me face him,” she said in a small voice. “I would only have wounded him. You would have killed—did kill— him.”

Angel gave her a sharp look. “You going to tell me he didn’t ask for it?”

“Well… no, but — but the dying part could have been avoided if you had let me face him instead.”

“Don’t kid yourself. The same thing would have happened — that is, if he could’ve stopped laughing long enough.”

His derision had her bristling. “That isn’t funny.”

“He thought it was. But that’s beside the point. You won’t ever participate in a gunfight while I’m around, lady. I don’t care how good you think you are—”

“Know I am,” she retorted.

His tone softened somewhat, probably with condescension. “Practice isn’t the same as facing a man who’s going to try and kill you, Cassie. You don’t want to find out the difference.”

“That might be so,” she allowed, “but you’re missing my point. Rafferty shouldn’t be dead. A wound would have sufficed—”

“This is the result of shooting to wound,” he cut in, jerking a thumb toward the scar on his jawline. “The guy healed up and came after me again. He wanted me dead, but he was too afraid to face me in another fair fight, so he came at me from behind. I’m here only because his aim with a knife was as lousy as with a gun — and because I don’t shoot to wound anymore.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m what?”

Cassie squirmed inwardly. “Don’t look so surprised. What you just said reminded me of the number of gunfights I’ve heard about where one man gets wounded and then a few days later the other man is found in some alley with a bullet in his back. I’m not saying that always happens, but it happens enough that— that your way makes sense, for you anyway.”

“All right, what happened here?”

Cassie turned to see the sheriff pushing his way through the dozen or so people who were edging forward, all trying to get a closer look at the dead man without getting too close to the one who’d shot him.

Frank Henley was on the short side, not much taller than Cassie. He wore boots with three-inch heels, which didn’t make much difference, but he had a very forceful personality, which did. He’d been known to intimidate men much larger than he was, which was why he made a good sheriff — or he would be if he didn’t tend to mix family business with official business.

Just now, he took one look at Slater, and Cassie knew this was going to be one of those mixing times. “Hey, I know this man. He works for—” Frank paused and narrowed his eyes on Angel. “I’m going to have to take you in, mister.”

Cassie barely managed to keep from snapping, “The hell you are!” She stepped between the two men instead to say calmly, “That won’t be necessary, Sheriff. Ask around. You’ll find a witness or two who saw Slater try to shoot this man in the back. I saw it, which is why he’s got my bullet in him, too. And for the record, Slater was no longer employed by your aunt. Your cousin Buck fired him yesterday morning.”

As his expression indicated, that last bit of information was all that changed Frank’s mind. Cassie had no doubt that Angel would have been arrested, without cause, if Slater had still been a Catlin employee. It could even have come to a bogus trial and hanging if Dorothy Catlin decreed it, such was the domination of that close-knit family. But Cassie didn’t think the Widow Catlin was that vicious, and besides, she wouldn’t have let Angel be arrested for a justified shooting. She would have drawn on the sheriff herself if she had to.

Which was why Cassie was greatly relieved to hear Frank say, “I’ll take your word for it, Miss Stuart. He’s with you, then?”

The lie came easily this time. “He’s my fianc�.”

The sheriff was surprised. “Thought you and Morgan — well, never mind. Just keep this one out of town. Gunfights we don’t need, and I damn well hate the paperwork involved.”

Cassie nodded and hooked her arm through Angel’s to lead him away before Frank changed his mind again. Angel’s silence continued until they had reached their horses and he’d given her a boost up onto hers.

“Why do I have the feeling you would’ve taken on that sheriff if he hadn’t backed down?”

Cassie flushed slightly at his discerning question. And he didn’t sound all that pleased by the notion, either, so she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

He merely grunted before mounting up. “Your lying is improving — some.”