Angel In The Rain (Western Historical Romance) (26 page)

Angel halted and wrapped both hands around the wire bale cutting into her sweaty fingers. Her breath heaved, both from the exertion and the embarrassed anger burning through her temples. Determined, she eyed the soldier. “I’d like to give these men a drink.”

The soldier’s lips curved into a nasty sneer. “Men?” He chortled. “Why these ain’t nothin’ but Injuns.”

“They’re human beings, just like you and me.”

The soldier’s laughter died. He eyed her narrowly, up and down, no doubt taking in the cut and richness of her clothes, and wondering what the hell she was up to.

“All right, then,” he said, stepping aside. “Go right ahead. But you just watch yourself.”

Angel carried the bucket the final steps and sat it in the dirt in front of Wolf. The smell coming from him and the sight of flies crawling over the open sores on his wrists and ankles sickened her. She scooped water into the dipper and paused a moment, suddenly uncertain. What if he turned away and refused to drink? She lifted her gaze and found him staring directly into her eyes. She clamped her lips against the urge to speak, and the eloquent look he gave her removed any doubt.

She moved, until she stood less than two feet away, and held the dipper of cool water to his cracked lips. He closed his eyes and swallowed greedily, sucking down all of it before he pulled back and looked at her again. Spilled droplets glistened on his chin. He turned his lips inward to savor the last bits of moisture.

The silent desperation in his eyes drew her closer. She leaned down, on the pretense of refilling the dipper.

“Find Rane,” he whispered.

A heavy boot with a ham-like leg behind it slammed against Wolf’s jaw.

Before her eyes, Wolf’s face contorted as he hurled sideways with a stream of crimson shooting from between his parted lips. His chained hands snapped him to a halt mere inches from the ground.

White-hot panic flared in Angel’s brain. She turned on the soldier. “Why did you do that!”

“Maybe this filthy animal will think twice next time he starts to open his mouth and speak to a white woman,” he said.

Tremors wracked Angel’s body. She felt as though she was coming apart from the inside out from the violent emotions warring within. “You’re the animal!” she spat.

The soldier’s eyes narrowed with hostility, which he now aimed at her. “You better take yourself on out of here, Missy, before you get in big trouble.”

“I’m not leaving until I’m finished!”

“And I say you
are
finished.” The gruff voice came from behind her.

Startled, Angel spun around.

Will Keegan stood there with a murderous glare on his face. The cold glint within his pale eyes chilled her heart.

“Stay out of this, Will. It’s none of your business.”

“Anything that concerns Roy Clayton and the Flying C is my business. Including you.”

The soldier, who regained his superior height by stepping onto the walkway, turned his animosity on Will. “Mister, if you got any say-so over this woman, I advise you to get her the hell away from here.”

Will held up his hand. “No need to get nasty, Corporal. I’ll handle it.”

“Good. Handle it,” the soldier retorted. “Otherwise, the both of you are liable to find yourselves hauled up on charges of interferin’ with the United States Army!” Adding insult to the threat, the soldier spat a stream of tobacco juice into the street, aiming a little too close to Will’s boots for comfort.

Angel’s eyes widened. Above even the town noise, she heard the squeak of Will’s grinding molars. She knew he’d like nothing better than to charge at the fresh-mouthed soldier but, surely, he wasn’t that stupid. A physical confrontation would earn him nothing but his own set of manacles and a seat next to the three, now openly curious, Indians at the hitching rail.

Turning on his heel, he latched onto her upper arm and growled, “Let’s go.”

His clamp-like hold left her no room to argue. She practically ran to keep up with his long, angry strides, knowing resistance would only land her flat on her face.

Angel was completely winded by the time Will hauled her to a stop next to their parked buggy. Damned corset. She pressed a hand to her stomach and struggled for breath.

Her father sat on the seat, watching her, his leathery face pale and pinched. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Again.

“Why did you do it, Angel?” She’d expected anger. She preferred his anger if it would erase the tired, hopeless expression from his face.

She answered him the only way she could, the only
honest
way she dared.

“He was thirsty, Pa.”

****

Angel paused on the upstairs landing and listened to the sounds of her father’s and Will’s receding footsteps as they entered the parlor. Feeling like a disobedient child again, she hunkered at the top of the staircase and pressed her shoulder against the wall, out of sight from the doorway below.

During the ride home, she’d endured her father’s studied silence. It reminded her—way too much for comfort—of their last ride together, when he’d taken her to the stage depot and sent her east.

She perked her ears at the clink of glass coming from the parlor and envisioned her father pouring drinks for Will and himself. A long silence followed, and she imagined them savoring their whiskey while each waited for the other to speak first.

Will finally took the leap. “What the hell do you think got into her today?”

“Pity,” Roy said. “She always did have a big ol’ soft spot for dark horses.”

“Then you better see to it she takes up respectable charity work and not go around handin’ out dippers of water to a bunch of goddamned savages, in the middle of the street, in front of the goddamned saloon!”

Angel’s heart sped with shock at hearing Will speak with such disrespect to her father. Now, maybe he would put the arrogant bastard in his place.

“Now simmer down, Will.”

Angel’s head snapped up. That was it? That was all he had to say? She waited, barely daring to breathe, but nothing more than silence followed.

After a moment, Will’s deep rumble broke the stillness, but she couldn’t make out his words. Then he said clearly, “If you ask me, she needs to be kept on a shorter rein, and I’m just the man to do it.”

Heat poured into her cheeks, scalding flames that brought tears to her eyes.
Oh, please, Pa!

“Nobody never said you weren’t,” Roy replied. “Leastwise, not me.”

Despair sank into Angel’s heart. Her father wasn’t going to champion her. On the contrary. By giving Will permission to put her on a “tighter rein,” she knew he’d just handed her over on a pretty platter to a man she despised.

She no longer cared what they said. Their words no longer mattered. Pulling her feet back so they couldn’t be seen from the hallway below, she settled the side of her face against the wall and gave in to heartbreak, the likes of which she hadn’t felt since she was a child.

By the time her tears dried, a deeper layer of bitterness had settled around her heart. Drawing on an inner strength, she straightened from the wall and swiped at the salty residue coating her cheeks. They thought they would control her, somehow force or cajole her into marriage with an insufferable tyrant not of her choosing.

Well, she’d just see about that.

Chapter Seventeen

Pewter-bellied clouds slid across the moon, pushed by a freshening wind laden with the smell of rain. Like a thief keeping to the shadows, Angel crept along the alley separating Dowling’s Mercantile from the hardware store. Clayton Station had settled for the night. From the cantina on the far side of the street, yellow lamplight spilled through the open door, the only sign of life in the sleeping town.

Angel halted at the end of the alley and pressed closer to the wall as silvered moonlight bathed the open ground. Across the street, Wolf and his two cousins were still handcuffed to the hitching rail. Behind them, a soldier sat on the walkway with his back propped against the cantina’s adobe wall and his legs sprawled across the uneven boards. His chin drooped on his chest, as though he’d fallen asleep.

She pulled in a long breath and released it slowly. Now what? If only she’d been able to find Rane. Together, they might have come up with a plan. But she had no idea where to look for him, and alone, she felt useless. Even if she somehow managed to distract the guard, the problem of the iron cuffs binding Wolf and the others to the rail seemed insurmountable.

The sound of the guard’s snort carried across the street. He shifted, as if trying to find a more comfortable position. Reflected moonlight winked on metal against the dark blue trousers covering his left hip. Angel stared at the gleaming object while her heart quickened. It was a key.

She pressed the backs of her shoulders against the uneven boards and tried to calm her breathing. What was she thinking? Just being here, alone and in the middle of the night, was foolish, maybe even insane. But hadn’t insanity been the driving force in her life since meeting Rane? Wolf was important to him. They called themselves blood brothers. She couldn’t allow him to be taken to the fort and hanged as a horse thief without even attempting to stop it somehow.

She needed a plan.

Still hugging the shadows, she backed down the alley. Beyond the confinement of the buildings, a welcome sage-scented cross breeze bathed her clammy skin. She turned and started to round the back corner of the store when a hand came at her from behind and clamped over her mouth. Before she could lift her hands, an arm snaked across her waist and her back fused with a solid male chest.

“Don’t scream,” Rane whispered against her ear.

Relief enabled her to breathe again. She reached up and pulled his hand from her mouth. “Where have you been?” she whispered fiercely.

He released her.

Angel turned—and nearly blurted her astonishment. The dressed-to-kill gunfighter had disappeared. Instead of his usual tailored garments, he wore sackcloth, both trousers and shirt, the crude garb favored by Mexican field laborers and nearly half the males in the nearby village. After giving her a look that dared her to comment, he snatched a straw sombrero from the top of an upended barrel—one of many piled haphazardly against the back of the store—and capped it over his head. The spacious brim was broken down in several, strategic places. To disguise his face, no doubt. Despite having transformed himself into a common peon, the mere sight of him sent her heart into a quick flutter.

He kept staring at her with a dark, knowing gaze that lingered on her manly disguise of worn denims and loose, faded shirt. He’d seen her this way before, so why the sudden interest?

“Sweet Jesus, Angel. What are you doing here?”

“The same as you, I would imagine. I want to help Wolf.” She spotted her battered felt hat on the ground. It must have fallen off when he grabbed her. She reached down and retrieved it.

“You can’t.”

His refusal caught her in the act of placing the hat over her head and tucking in her hair. She stopped and looked at him, as if she hadn’t heard correctly.

“What do you mean, I can’t? I sneaked out of the house, caught a horse in the pasture with nothing but a halter—which was no easy feat, by the way—and rode all the way over here, bareback, so don’t tell me I can’t.”

“I don’t intend to argue,” he said.

His dismissal stung her. “Do you at least have a plan?”

“Yes, I have a plan. But it’s risky. Your being here only complicates the situation.”

“Well, then. Since you have it all figured out, I certainly wouldn’t want to get in your way.” She turned to leave, and hesitated. The moment stretched into awkward silence. Crickets chirped in the tall grass. Overhead, dark clouds continued their silent march across the face of the moon. Yet Angel stood there, hoping he would say something more.

When he didn’t, she started to walk.

“Where did you leave your horse?”

The question stopped her. “In the grove, at the edge of town.”

“Will you wait there for me?”

Her pulse sped another tiny beat. “Why? I thought you wanted rid of me.”

“Will you wait for me?”

She knew she should tell him to go to hell. How many times did the man have to spell out how little she meant to him before it finally sunk in? Walk away and don’t look back, her good sense told her, but her treacherous heart refused to cooperate.

“Yes, I’ll wait,” she said.

As he watched Angel walk away, Rane’s conscience flailed him. She’d risked much in coming here tonight. Yet, he’d dismissed her like an unwelcome nuisance. For her own good, he reminded himself. Still, the urge to go after her remained strong. When she melded into the darkness on the far side of the wagon track, he blew out a breath. She would be safe. He had to think of Wolf and the task at hand, yet thoughts of Angel waiting in the darkness, splintered his concentration.

What had she planned to do? What
would
she have done if he hadn’t been there to stop her?

He couldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t afford a mistake.