plate. Not only were her stepfather and fiancé hot on her trail, but her father's partner was an unknown entity. Only a very foolish woman, or one with strong convictions, would think herself invincible.
But Angel's difficulties were none of his concern. If he wasn't careful he'd find himself mired down in her problems, and sticking around in one place was dangerous. He wouldn't be surprised if wanted posters started appearing soon and he had to keep one step ahead of the law.
The wolf stopped howling and silence closed in on him like a suffocating curtain. Then he heard it. Her voice wafted through the darkness, sweet and dulcet, her notes startlingly pure. She sang a hymn he recognized from his youth. It took him back a good many years. She sang like an angel, and for a few minutes Rafe felt almost at peace.
Then abruptly the singing stopped. As if on cue a wolf took up the refrain. Then another, and another. Rafe fed kindling into the fire and hunkered down to await morning. There were many places he would rather be tonight. One of them was in Angel's bed. Another was in that sweet warm place inside her body.
A weak sun broke over the mountains as the wagon lumbered into Canyon City late the following afternoon.
"Do you know the way to the mine?" Rafe asked as the wagon joined the others traveling down the muddy main street.
"All I know is that it's on Red Rock Canyon Road, not too far from Canyon City. I suppose we should ask someone."
"Do you have a place to live once you get there?"
"Father built a cabin. It's all mine now. Brady Baxter has his own cabin on the property. I have no idea in what condition I'll find it, but I'll manage."
"I'll park in front of the general store so you can purchase whatever you think you'll need to last until your next trip to town. Meanwhile, I'll inquire about directions. Do you have money?"
"I have enough to buy what I need. According to Mr. Goodman, Father's lawyer, there's funds in my name in the local bank."
Rafe pulled up at the general store and lifted Angela down onto the wooden sidewalk. "Have your supplies stowed inside the wagon. I won't be gone long."
He waited Angela enter the store, then ambled off down the street. He noted Lawyer Goodman's shingle above the barber shop and reminded himself to tell Angel. Then he spotted the assayers office and decided it was as good a place as any to ask directions to the Golden Angel.
He waited until the man ahead of him finished his business before approaching the desk.
"Can I help you, sir?" the assayer asked.
"I hope so. Can you give me directions to the Golden Angel mine?"
The assayer studied Rafe through narrowed lids. "The Golden Angel, you say? Do you have business out there?"
"I'm a friend of the owner."
"Brady Baxter?"
"No, the other owner."
"If you're talking about Simon Abbot, he died some weeks back. Terrible accident."
Rafe's patience hung by a slim thread. "Just tell me how to get to the mine."
The assayer assumed an aggrieved look. "Just trying to be friendly. Head north out of town. You'll find a trail heading up the mountain. Take the first track to the right off the main trail and you'll run right into the mine. Does Baxter know you're coming?"
"Don't know and don't care," Rafe said, heading for the exit. "Oh, by the way," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Do you happen to know the nature of Simon's accident?"
"Sure do, mister. A broken axle sent his wagon plunging off a narrow mountain trail. Tragic. Damn tragic."
"Have you heard anything about the mine being played out?"
"Played out? The Golden Angel? That's news to me, mister."
Rafe let himself out of the office, his mind awhirl. Obviously Brady Baxter was trying to pull the wool over Angel's eyes. It probably never occurred to him that Angel would doubt his word. Baxter was in for a
But Angel's difficulties were none of his concern. If he wasn't careful he'd find himself mired down in her problems, and sticking around in one place was dangerous. He wouldn't be surprised if wanted posters started appearing soon and he had to keep one step ahead of the law.
The wolf stopped howling and silence closed in on him like a suffocating curtain. Then he heard it. Her voice wafted through the darkness, sweet and dulcet, her notes startlingly pure. She sang a hymn he recognized from his youth. It took him back a good many years. She sang like an angel, and for a few minutes Rafe felt almost at peace.
Then abruptly the singing stopped. As if on cue a wolf took up the refrain. Then another, and another. Rafe fed kindling into the fire and hunkered down to await morning. There were many places he would rather be tonight. One of them was in Angel's bed. Another was in that sweet warm place inside her body.
A weak sun broke over the mountains as the wagon lumbered into Canyon City late the following afternoon.
"Do you know the way to the mine?" Rafe asked as the wagon joined the others traveling down the muddy main street.
"All I know is that it's on Red Rock Canyon Road, not too far from Canyon City. I suppose we should ask someone."
"Do you have a place to live once you get there?"
"Father built a cabin. It's all mine now. Brady Baxter has his own cabin on the property. I have no idea in what condition I'll find it, but I'll manage."
"I'll park in front of the general store so you can purchase whatever you think you'll need to last until your next trip to town. Meanwhile, I'll inquire about directions. Do you have money?"
"I have enough to buy what I need. According to Mr. Goodman, Father's lawyer, there's funds in my name in the local bank."
Rafe pulled up at the general store and lifted Angela down onto the wooden sidewalk. "Have your supplies stowed inside the wagon. I won't be gone long."
He waited Angela enter the store, then ambled off down the street. He noted Lawyer Goodman's shingle above the barber shop and reminded himself to tell Angel. Then he spotted the assayers office and decided it was as good a place as any to ask directions to the Golden Angel.
He waited until the man ahead of him finished his business before approaching the desk.
"Can I help you, sir?" the assayer asked.
"I hope so. Can you give me directions to the Golden Angel mine?"
The assayer studied Rafe through narrowed lids. "The Golden Angel, you say? Do you have business out there?"
"I'm a friend of the owner."
"Brady Baxter?"
"No, the other owner."
"If you're talking about Simon Abbot, he died some weeks back. Terrible accident."
Rafe's patience hung by a slim thread. "Just tell me how to get to the mine."
The assayer assumed an aggrieved look. "Just trying to be friendly. Head north out of town. You'll find a trail heading up the mountain. Take the first track to the right off the main trail and you'll run right into the mine. Does Baxter know you're coming?"
"Don't know and don't care," Rafe said, heading for the exit. "Oh, by the way," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Do you happen to know the nature of Simon's accident?"
"Sure do, mister. A broken axle sent his wagon plunging off a narrow mountain trail. Tragic. Damn tragic."
"Have you heard anything about the mine being played out?"
"Played out? The Golden Angel? That's news to me, mister."
Rafe let himself out of the office, his mind awhirl. Obviously Brady Baxter was trying to pull the wool over Angel's eyes. It probably never occurred to him that Angel would doubt his word. Baxter was in for a
Similar Books
