Angel

Chapter 5

Angel kept half of his attention on the woman as she hurried away, half on the man she’d called Morgan. She was walking so briskly she was almost running. Morgan also was staring after her — and swearing under his breath. Angel wasn’t sure about what he’d just witnessed, but he knew he didn’t like it. And it was past time he found out what was going on.

The tall Texan turned to him, finally recalling his presence, and was about to say something, but Angel didn’t have time to oblige him. “You’ll have to excuse me, but she’s about to take off with my horse.”

And damned if she wasn’t doing just that. He did some swearing himself as he realized he’d have to run to catch up to her carriage, which she’d already set in motion.

By the time he reached her, she was nearly out of town, he was out of breath and composure, and the first words out of his mouth weren’t meant to alleviate her alarm at finding him suddenly in the seat next to her. “Lady, that’s called horse-stealing!”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew saucer-round as she whipped about to see the horses trailing behind the carriage. “Oh, God, I forgot… didn’t even notice… certainly didn’t mean to—”

She ended her disjointed explanation abruptly, her mouth snapping shut. And she was so slow in turning back around, she was wearing a completely different expression by the time she faced him, one he recognized too well from their previous encounter.

“Don’t start—” He tried to warn off the anticipated diatribe, but she was already cutting into his attempt.

“What the hell were you trying to do back there? Don’t you know how to deal with men without getting their pride all bent out of shape?”

“I reckon not.”

Cassie wasn’t expecting that answer, or to see him sit back and cross his arms over his chest, as if daring her to continue upbraiding him. It took some of the heat out of her and she turned to face the road.

“Then you must leave bodies behind wherever you go,” she said with quiet contempt.

“That’s been known to happen.”

She had no rejoinder for that. They could have been speaking of the weather instead of his killing people for all the emotion he gave the subject. She quite honestly didn’t know how to deal with someone like him, and didn’t care to try anymore.

He had to go, today — this very minute. And with that thought settled firmly, she stopped the carriage to tell him so. But he sat forward when she pulled up on the reins, and when she turned toward him it was to find him no more than inches away, so close she had to tilt her head back to see his face, and she got ensnared by those coal-black eyes, not so frightening now, merely curious, but still mesmerizing.

“What’d you stop for?”

Why had she stopped? She had no idea… and then she did. She gasped, and moved as far back into her corner of the seat as she could get. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, why every thought she’d had had gone right out of her head. Or why she’d felt strange and breathless, as if she were scared witless. But she hadn’t been scared, not then. And Angel wasn’t exactly frightening her now with his bemused look.

She was forced to glance away just to get her thoughts back to the matter at hand and recall her determination. And it came quickly enough as long as she wasn’t looking at him. So she decided to continue facing forward to say what needed saying — to be sure it got said.

“I don’t like what happened back there. Morgan I could handle. You and Morgan I couldn’t. I even took a stand I wouldn’t have just to get his attention off you before you drew him into a gunfight.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” Angel replied with a cold edge to his tone. “I don’t pick fights, ‘cause there wouldn’t be a damn thing fair about it. Outside of a fight, however, I can draw without shooting, and most folks shut their mouths and go away.”

“Most folks aren’t MacKauleys, which Morgan happens to be just one in a bunch of, and they’re all hotheaded men. Their tempers snap, and they’ve been known to charge right into a man like a riled bull. Morgan might not have noticed you drawing your gun, and you’d have had to shoot him to stop him, or ended up out in the street getting your face rearranged. But that’s done and over, with thankfully no one dead.”

“Exactly, so—”

“I’m not finished,” she cut in tersely, keeping her eyes away from him, uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t doing the same. “I was still so upset by what could have happened that I left town without completing my errands, the last being to — well, you might as well know. I’m going to send a telegram to Lewis Pickens to inform him that my problem has been solved and I no longer need his help — or yours. I’m going back to town to do that right now.”

“Go ahead,” was all he said.

Cassie visibly slumped in her relief. She had expected an argument, expected she’d have to lie through her teeth to convince him she had no trouble that he could help with, especially after what he had witnessed of her confrontation with Morgan. Perhaps he was glad to be out of it. After all, he hadn’t seemed overjoyed that morning that she and her difficulty happened to be the favor that would clear his debt.

She turned to him now with a tentative smile that died as soon as she saw the frown he had fixed on her. Had she misunderstood his response? Maybe a few lies would be necessary after all.

“I really don’t have the same problem I did six weeks ago when I first asked for help. If I wasn’t so shaken up by your arrival this morning, I would have thought to tell you that. With so much time passed, tempers have cooled, and the situation is so minor now it isn’t even worth mentioning.”

He sat back again in that lazy crossed-arm pose and drawled, “Now I’m plumb curious, so why don’t you mention it anyway?”

She wasn’t about to go into it for him, since she might inadvertently say something that could suggest his help was still needed. “It’s just a matter of a few people being annoyed with me.”

“How many?”

She hedged. “There are two separate families.”

“How many?”

His persistence made her eyes narrow and she snapped impatiently, “I never bothered to count.”

“That many?”

Was that humor in his tone? She wasn’t sure, but this was no laughing matter, not to her. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt if he thought it was.

So she waved a dismissive hand and assured him, “It’s nothing serious. The reason I would still have welcomed Mr. Pickens’s help was I would have liked to get things back to the way they were before I got everyone — annoyed at me. I was hoping I could still stay here until spring, as I’d intended. But now I’ll just stay until my papa returns, and that isn’t going to be a problem.”

He said nothing to that, just stared at her patiently as if waiting for her to continue — as if he knew there had to be more to it than that. Well, too bad. She’d said all she was going to on that subject.

“It was kind of you to offer to help, but there’s nothing to help with now. I’m not in any, well… danger — never was, actually, and the telegram I’m sending to Mr. Pickens will release you from any obligation you might feel.”

“Is that so?”

“Certainly. Maybe he’ll even consider your debt paid, even though you didn’t have to do anything. After all, you came. You were able and willing to help — damned persistent about it, actually,” she added in a low-voiced grumble. “You did as he asked, so what more is there—”

“He won’t see it that way any more’n I do,” Angel cut in dryly. “But since there’s ‘no problem,’ you won’t mind if I stick around for a few days and ask some questions, will you?”

Cassie stiffened and demanded sharply, “Now why would you do that?”

“Because you don’t lie very well, lady.”

She stared at him for a long moment, seeing it in his eyes, in his faintly scornful look, that he hadn’t believed a single word she’d said. She let out a sigh, saying ruefully, “I know. But most folks don’t notice.”

“Maybe because you’re so sweet-faced wholesome, they can’t imagine you telling anything but the truth.”

Had she just been insulted or complimented? And how was it that he had known, without a doubt, that she wasn’t being honest, when it was only people who knew her really well who usually had that ability?

She tried one last time. “You still can’t help. What happened with Morgan just proves it. You get people riled, and I need them pacified.”

He slowly shook his head at her. “I’m not about to take your word for it, lady, not after that crock of bullshit you just handed me. I’ll decide for myself whether I can help. But until I hear what your problem is, and the truth this time, I’m staying right on your boot heels, and I doubt you’ll enjoy that.”

She knew she wouldn’t. He might not be threatening at the moment, just pigheaded stubborn, but he still made her extremely nervous. She was too aware of him in every way, of his raw masculinity and the violence he was capable of. She simply had no experience in dealing with someone like him, but she’d better learn real quick, because it looked like she wasn’t getting rid of him any time soon.

“All right,” she said, slightly bitter, slightly resigned. “But first let me assure you that what trouble I’m in is my own fault. I’m a meddler, you see. I’m the first to admit it. It’s something I can’t seem to help doing. And I should warn you that if you stick around, I’ll probably try meddling in your life, too.”

“So I’ve been warned,” he replied.

He wasn’t impressed, though, she noted. He was probably confident that he was too intimidating for her to try any such thing with him. Come to think of it, that might be so.

“At any rate,” she continued, “what I tried to do this time was end a feud that’s been going on down here for twenty-five years. It’s between two families, the MacKauleys and the Catlins. Actually, it’s not just the families. Whoever works for them takes sides, too. Brawls break out every once in a while between the hands when they meet up in town. If their two herds mix — well, that could lead to shooting before they get unmixed. My papa has become sort of a buffer these past ten years, at least on the range, since he settled right in the middle of their two properties. So the feud is pretty much past the violent stage, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of hate built up on both sides.”

“I know all about feuds, Miss Stuart. I’ve been in the middle of several myself.”

She knew that, at least she’d heard about one that he’d been hired to participate in, but she wasn’t going to comment on that. “These folks, they aren’t hardheaded about their feud. They don’t insist outsiders take sides. So I was friendly with both families, in particular with Jenny Catlin, who’s near my age — and Morgan MacKauley.”

“That ornery young cuss you were talking to? You call that friendly?”

She flushed at his sneering tone. “He was friendly enough before I got his whole family set against me.”

“And how’d you manage that?”

“I played matchmaker. I figured the simplest way to end the feud was to have the two families joined by marriage. It was a good idea. Don’t you think so?”

“If the married couple didn’t end up killing each other, I suppose it could’ve worked. Is that what happened? They killed each other?”

Cassie scowled at his blas� tone. “There was no killing. But Jenny and Clayton married with my help, each thinking the other was in love with them. I sort of convinced them of that. Only they found out on their wedding night that neither had reached the loving point yet. Clayton dumped his bride back on her family, both families were outraged, and I got blamed for the whole mess, and rightly so, since those two, the youngest of both families, would never have done anything about their mutual attraction if I hadn’t noticed it and meddled.”

“So you’ve got half the folks around here hating your guts. Is that all?”

Her mouth dropped open. “All? That’s enough for me, thank you,” she said indignantly. “I’m not used to being hated. And that’s not all. I’ve been asked — well, told, actually, to get out of Texas by both families. But the MacKauleys also gave me a date that I’d better be gone by, or else they’ll burn down the Double C. Now, they were generous, really, when you consider this was six weeks ago. They were giving me plenty of time, time enough for my papa to return. Only Papa got delayed with an injury. My time is up this Saturday and the foreman’s been chased off by the Catlins, so I can’t leave even if I wanted to, and neither Dorothy Catlin nor R. J. MacKauley, the two heads of the families, will speak to me, so I can’t even apologize or grovel for forgiveness. So you tell me, mister, how are you going to help? I needed Mr. Pickens’s talent for talking folks around to being reasonable. From what I hear, you don’t talk much at all.”

“From what you hear? That’s not the first time you’ve implied you know me, when we’ve never met to my recollection. Or have we?”

It wasn’t very flattering that he would suppose he would have forgotten her if they had met. But Cassie didn’t take offense. She was well aware that she was no beauty to turn men’s heads. Not that she’d been completely ignored since she’d reached a marriageable age. Of course, the fact that the Lazy S was a very large ranch and the Stuarts had other wealth besides had a lot to do with it. But of the two men who’d shown some slight interest, each had asked outright if she’d be willing to get rid of Marabelle, and their interest had ended when told she wouldn’t.

She said to Angel now, “We haven’t met, but I do know all about you, what you are, what you do. I grew up on tales of your exploits.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “My name’s recognized in the North, lady, but only in a few places down here.”

“Yes, but I’m only visiting Texas,” she explained. “My home is in Wyoming.”

He stared at her hard for a moment, then swore. “Son of a — you’re one of them eccentric Stuarts from the Lazy S out of Cheyenne, aren’t you? The ones that got an el-e-phant grazing out on the range with their cattle. Hell and I should have known.”

He said the last with such disgust, she blushed furiously. “You and hell don’t know a damn thing,” she said in defense of her family. “So my grandpa likes to give unusual gifts. He’s a world traveler, who goes to many never-heard-of-before places. And he just likes to share a little of his experiences with his family in a tangible way. I don’t see any harm in that.”

“No harm? I heard that el-e-phant knocked half your barn down once.”

Her blush got brighter. “The elephant belongs to my mama. He stays out on the range, but every once in a while he comes home — so he’s a little clumsy. No real harm gets done, and my mama is very fond of him.”

“Your mama—”

He bit off what he was going to say, but she could just imagine. Around Cheyenne, it was no secret that Catherine Stuart had lived in the same house with her husband for ten years without saying one word to him — except through third parties. A lot of folks thought that was plain weird. And their collection of unusual animals only added to that opinion.

“So that’s how you got that black panther? A gift from your grandfather?”

She could tell he was really having trouble accepting the notion. He probably thought her grandpa was a little bit crazy — or a lot. But then, his was a reaction she was used to. And she was used to explaining.

“Not exactly. Grandpa had intended to keep Marabelle for himself. He found her the day he was leaving Africa. The natives had killed her mother, were going to kill her, too, but Grandpa intervened and brought her on his ship. But he found out after he sailed that he and Marabelle just weren’t compatible. She didn’t take to sailing at all, was sick the whole trip home, and he wasn’t ready to give up sailing himself. And every time he got near her he started sneezing for some reason.

“When he reached the ranch, she was half dead, poor thing, down to skin and bones from having such a hard time keeping food down on the ship. He’d already decided to send her back east to a zoo, but he gave her to me to fatten up first. I’m afraid I got attached to her real quick, as small and adorable as she was then. It took me a while to talk him into letting me keep her, but then, he’s a softy where I’m concerned. And I’ve never regretted keeping her.” Even if Marabelle did scare off what few possible beaux Cassie might have had.

“But I believe we have digressed, haven’t we?” she continued in a sterner tone. “I asked you what possible help a gunfighter could be in my present situation. Care to answer that now?”

He gave her a narrow look for putting him on the spot. “Didn’t you say them MacKauleys were a hotheaded bunch?”

“Yes, but—”

“If you don’t want me talking to them for you, which I’d be happy to do—”

“No!”

“Then I’ll just be here to protect you if it proves necessary, until they decide to let you live here in peace, or you leave. Guess I’ll have to stick pretty close to your boot heels after all.”

He didn’t seem too happy about that. Cassie was appalled herself.