The Outlaws: Rafe by Connie Mason

an accident?"
    "That's what I believe.   Shortly after I received word of Father's death, a letter arrived from Brady Baxter, his partner.   Baxter said the Golden Angel had played out, and he offered to buy my share at an exorbitant price.   If it was worthless, why was he willing to pay so much for it?
    Rafe shook his head.   "You really are loco, Angel.   What makes you think you can take on the world by yourself?   You can't accuse a man of murder with no proof."
    "I haven't accused anyone of murder...yet.   I'll reserve judgment until I look into things for myself.   There's a lawyer in Canyon City Father trusted, perhaps he will help me."
    "Don't tell me any more," Rafe said.   "It's none of my business.   I've got my own troubles."
    They had reached the outcropping of rock Rafe had chosen for a campsite and he pulled the wagon beneath the sheltering ledge.
    "Can you manage here while I hunt for our supper?" Rafe asked as he lifted Angela down from the wagon.
    "I'll be fine," Angela returned.   "It's growing dark, watch out for wolves."
    Idly, Angela wondered about the problems plaguing Rafe.   She'd sensed from the beginning that he was on the run, but from what?   The law?   Could he actually be the killer folks in Ordway named him?   She dismissed that notion immediately.   But that didn't mean he wasn't wanted for some other crime.   She knew intuitively that she couldn't let herself care about a man with a shady past, and Rafe Gentry's past was a shady as they came.
    Rafe returned a short time later with a pair of scrawny prairie chickens, which they cooked and ate immediately.   Angela cleaned up afterward, then glanced nervously at Rafe.   "I guess I'll turn in.   Good night."
    His silver eyes darkened to the smoky gray of desire.   "Does that mean you're not inviting me to share the wagon tonight?"
    "Definitely not ," Angela huffed.
    "Don't you trust me?"
    She spun around to face him.   "After last night I don't even trust myself.   I can't think around you, Rafe Gentry.   I don't know what to make of you.   You're a dangerous man, in more ways than one.   You're far too comfortable wearing a gun, and you appear to know how to use it.   What are you, Rafe Gentry?   Who are you?   You spoke of the war.   Did you fight for the North or the South?"
    "Does it matter?"
    She shrugged.   "Not really."
    "My family came from Tennessee.   My brothers and I fought on the losing side.   We were not popular in Kansas."
    "Are you running from the law?"
    "I didn't commit any crime," Rafe hedged.   "You ask too many questions."
    "I'm your wife, remember?" she said archly.
    "I haven't forgotten, but I fear you have."
    Angela gave an exasperated snort.   "This has gone too far.   We both know our marriage is a farce.   It should have never taken place.   Nothing is going to happen between us tonight...or ever.   Some misguided sense of responsibility made you turn back to warn me about the danger awaiting me in Pueblo, but we both know you won't stick around long."
    "You're one determined lady," Rafe contended.   "Your faith must be strong indeed to instill you with such confidence."
    "Faith is a personal thing.   Perhaps you don't have enough."
    "The only thing I have faith in is my gun and my wits.   Both kept me alive through the war."
    "I never asked.   Is there a woman waiting for you back in Kansas?"
    Rafe grimaced.   "No specific woman, but there have been women.   A man doesn't reach the age of twenty-eight without having women in his life."
    "Don't count on adding me to your list," Angela said, turning away.
      A smile lingered on Rafe's lips as he watched her march to the wagon and climb inside.
    Rafe stared moodily into the fire, listening to the mournful call of a wolf and thinking about the woman who thought she could exist in a man's world on her own.   She had to be the most naive woman alive for she definitely wasn't prepared to handle all the problems piling up on her