Angel Gone Bad Page 3

  The AHTA was a secret organization, but any man over eighteen and of good character and public standing could join. A widow could keep her husband’s membership. Individuals paid annual dues of ten cents, received protection from thieves, and helped others in the association.

  Strictly honorable and legal means were used to obtain justice. If a member’s horse was stolen, he reported it to his local AHTA president. Authorities and other chapters were notified by telegraph. Once the robber’s trail was found, two AHTA members and the owner of the horse would have their expenses paid while in pursuit. Nonmembers could receive help, but they paid for the service.

  When Rune had rescued Angel, he had been working for the AHTA, the Cherokee, and the Choctaw to locate the Badger Gang’s leader.

  The Badgers were horse thieves and murderers. Individuals couldn’t stand against them. Deputy U.S. Marshals hadn’t been able to stop them. Federal law prohibited Indian Lighthorsemen from pursuing them.

  The Choctaw Nation and Arkansas shared the Ouachita Mountains, a favorite hideout and trail for outlaws. The Cherokee Nation shared borders with Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas, where stolen horses were driven into Indian Territory. From there, the horses were sold in Texas.

  Finally, a Choctaw leader and a Cherokee leader had joined forces with an AHTA president to put a stop to the elusive Badger Gang. Rune had been hired for the job, but he also had a personal interest in seeing justice done. The Badgers had repeatedly stolen from his family’s sprawling farm in Kansas.

  There was one catch. No one except the three leaders would know that Rune was an undercover detective. If he ran into trouble, they wouldn’t back him up due to legal consequences. He was on his own.

  All had gone as planned until he’d rescued Angel and bought stolen horses from the Zip Rankin Gang. He’d hoped the purchase would gain him entry to the Badger Gang. Instead, Angel had turned him in to the law and he’d gone to jail.

  Now he’d decided to make the best of a bad situation. If he could find the Badger leader, join up, and bring the gang to justice, he’d complete his job and clear his name. If he couldn’t and he was caught, he’d be back behind bars with no help from anybody. He was taking a big chance, but he still lived by the AHTA motto: Protect the innocent. Bring the guilty to justice.

  Angel was no innocent. She was guilty as hell. And he was bringing her to justice . . . his own way.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re good,” Rune said, amazement coloring his voice. “Are you sure you haven’t played before?”

  “Never.” Angel examined the three aces and two jacks she’d just spread out on the quilt. She curled her fingers into fists to avoid the lure of touching them again. “I avoid card games.”

  “Don’t know why.”

  “I have my reasons.” She glanced toward the east and the first rays of the rising sun. It looked like her long night was finally coming to a close. Her loving mother must be turning over in her grave now that her darling daughter was touching cards again.

  “You’re a quick study. If you can hold your nerve, I’d stake you against most anybody.”

  “Guess you’re a good teacher.”

  “You’ve got the right touch, the right memory for cards.”

  “I simply create stories around them as a way of remembering the ones played.” She smiled sweetly as she lied through her teeth.

  “What?”

  “Kings are railway tycoons or cattle barons. Queens are society ladies or dance hall darlings. Jacks are gunslingers or cowboys.” She glanced up to see if Rune actually bought her ridiculous story.

  “That’s so complicated nobody will ever be able to read your tell.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He chuckled. “Everybody does. Some are just better at concealing it than others.”

  “What’s yours? And mine?”

  “If you don’t know by now, I’m not telling you.”

  She shrugged. He couldn’t read her tell because she would never have one. On the other hand, his blue eyes darkened when he received a good card. He couldn’t control that tell. Perhaps in a poorly lit saloon nobody could see it. But she knew, so she stored that bit of vulnerability away for future use.

  He picked up the cards, stacked, and shuffled them.

  She itched to tear them from his hands and hold them to her heart. “I need new clothes.”

  “Why?”

  “This is my Angelica the Author look. Angel the Ace needs a different one.”

  “And Crystabelle Morgan appears as a prim and proper teacher.”

  “Right. If I weren’t a novelist, I’m not sure I could keep all these personas straight. But they’re necessary. If anybody from my teacher world saw me playing poker or promoting dime novels, I’d lose my job, my reputation, and my friends.”

  “I’ll spring for new clothes. There’s a dry goods store in Cedar Mills. I doubt it’ll have much choice, but I guess you ought to change before we introduce you in Delaware Bend.”

  “I’ll make something work for the Ace.”

  Rune chuckled. “Bet you will. You want to get some sleep before we go?”

  “I’d like nothing better.”

  He glanced up at the sky, obviously checking the position of the sun for the time of day. “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”

  “Thanks.”

  Angel curled onto her side and closed her eyes. She wasn’t doing her fancy gown any good, but at least she’d taken off her blond wig. It’d been an unbelievably taxing day and night. Relaxation felt like heaven. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but she’d fallen back into the old comfort of being with Rune. He made her feel safe, even though she knew she couldn’t trust him. Yet she did believe he’d protect her as long as he needed her.

  As tired as she felt, sleep eluded her. Thoughts swirled through her mind, keeping her awake. She couldn’t dally with Rune too long, only long enough to satisfy his goal. Now that he’d added cards to the mix, she had to limit their time together even more. And somehow she had to resist the siren song of the cards even as she touched their sweet faces.

  Fortunately, it was July and she was out of school for the summer. But she had scheduled readings for Sweet Rescue in the Indian Territory.

  Yet none of that was as important as Verity Whiteside’s trouble. Angel’s former student was an orphan, receiving a good education as a charity case at Bonham Female Academy. Verity had studied hard, worked at the school for her room and board, and graduated to become Angel’s assistant.

  Angel had liked the smart, spunky Verity from the first, mentoring and supporting her. Now Verity needed help. She’d fallen in love with Deputy U.S. Marshal Tate Thornton. They’d gotten engaged and planned to be married that summer. But as so often with young lovers everywhere, they hadn’t waited for their wedding vows to consummate their love. Verity was pregnant.

  Unfortunately, Verity’s fiancé had disappeared several months ago. Verity was frantic with worry. She was big with child. She couldn’t believe Tate would abandon her and their child, so she thought he was either held hostage, injured, or dead. She’d turned to Angel for help since she couldn’t let anyone at the school know she might soon be an unwed mother. If she did, rules decreed that she’d lose her job and be out on the street with no support.

  Angel had met Tate, an upstanding young man, and agreed with Verity’s assessment of the situation. Angel was now paying for Verity to stay with a widow in Sherman, not too far from Bonham but far enough to avoid scrutiny. But it was straining Angel’s finances. She needed all the income she could get from teaching school and selling books. She was also determined to find Tate, or what had happened to him, before the baby was born.

  She’d turned to her big brother Rafe for help. Even though Rafe worked out of the U.S. Marshal’s office in Fort Smith, Arkansas, while Tate was based in Paris, Texas, she’d thought Rafe might get news about the missing deputy. So far, he hadn’t turned up any leads. Yet Rafe pursued outlaws in Indian Territ
ory and Tate was probably in Texas.

  She hadn’t known where else to look until Rune came back into her life. If lawmen couldn’t help, perhaps outlaws could make a difference. Now she planned to stay alert for information about Tate in the Bend.

  With a will of their own, her thoughts came full circle. Rune. She slightly opened her eyes and looked at him sitting near the embers of their campfire, early morning sunlight casting him in a rosy glow.

  He wasn’t the same. She’d known he wouldn’t be, not after his experience in jail. He was thinner, taut and prickly as barbwire, and tougher. His thick, sandy hair was cut short where once it had spilled past his shoulder in pale waves. No longer was his skin tawny from the sun. His broad shoulders, long legs, and elegant hands were cut to the bone, all muscle and sinew. Still, that was just the bits and pieces of him. The core of him, the sheer animal magnetism that made him a leader, not a follower, remained intact.

  She almost wished he’d changed completely to a man she couldn’t admire, respect, or desire. It’d make life easier. Despite his determination to hurt her, use her, and then dump her, she still wanted him with a power that left her breathless. Time hadn’t healed the wound he’d inflicted on her when he’d rejected her love. Time had simply made it raw.

  But she was stronger than her passions. And she’d learned from her mistakes. Now she felt ashamed of her actions regarding him. And contrite. If she could, she’d make it up to him.

  Yet love would never be a part of her feelings for him again. She’d never allow herself to be that vulnerable to hurt. Never again.

  Chapter Eight

  As Rune drove the buggy into Delaware Bend that evening, he felt his senses ratchet up a notch. The Bend was no place for fools or laggards. The tough town squatted on the Texas side of the Red River, but catered to the outlaws, Indians, and adventurers that crossed over from Indian Territory to gamble, drink, and raise hell. If lawmen dared to show up, the outlaws could quickly escape north across the muddy river.

  Indian Territory had become a haven for outlaws because Indian Nations had their own laws and courts that the U.S. government wouldn’t allow to be applied to Americans. At the same time, Deputy U.S. Marshals were limited to federal law. In many cases, Indian Lighthorsemen and deputies worked together to solve crimes, but they were hard pressed to stem the tide of illegal activities.

  Judge Isaac Parker, called the Hangin’ Judge by those who got on the wrong side of his gavel, ran a tight courtroom in Fort Smith. His word was law, for there was no appeal to a higher court. After his appointment by the U.S. Congress to clean up Indian Territory, Judge Parker made great strides to do just that. The courthouse jail wasn’t called “Hell on the Border” for nothing. Marshal Boles and his deputies brought in as many criminals as they could catch.

  Rune couldn’t fault their intent. He’d once been on their side of the law. Even if they, or the AHTA, didn’t know it, he was still helping them.

  “I’d like to go to Manny’s Livery Stable.” Angel pointed at a weathered wooden building with an outside corral. “A friend recommended it.”

  “That’s not where I rented this horse and buggy.”

  “I need a place to change clothes before we play poker.”

  “And you think a livery stable is a likely place?” Rune asked skeptically. “You could’ve changed out in the country, but you wouldn’t. I thought you wanted a hotel—”

  “I want safety and privacy. From what I understand, Manny’s is the place to get it.”

  “Makes no sense.”

  “Where have you been living in the Bend?”

  “No place. I pay for a bath and a shave. I keep my things in my saddlebags. That way there’s no record of where I’m staying and no prying eyes.”

  “Where do you keep your saddlebags, saddle, and horse?”

  Rune ground his teeth at her logic. “You made your point. I can sleep with my horse. But you need something better.”

  “I’ll get it, too. And it won’t include sleeping with your horse.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my horse.”

  “I didn’t say there was. I just prefer not to sleep with an animal many times my size and weight.”

  “I’m not that much bigger than you.”

  She shook her head, green eyes sparkling. “I sleep alone.”

  “Could get mighty lonely.”

  “I’m not going to discuss it.” She pointed again. “Please stop at Manny’s. If my information isn’t correct, then we can reconsider my plan.”

  When Rune had thought about Angel in prison, she’d always been compliant with his wishes. In reality, she was about as stubborn and ornery as a mule. If he didn’t want to argue all night and call attention to them, he was going to have to give up and give in. He pulled over in front of Manny’s Livery Stable.

  A guy walked out, stopped, and put his hands on his hips. He had a grizzled beard and wild mane of black hair touched with silver. He wore faded blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. He studied their horse and buggy and then spit tobacco on the ground. “What can I do for you folks?”

  “Lady sent me,” Angel said, adjusting her blond wig. “She said if I ever needed a safe place to stay in the Bend to see Manny.”

  “You’re at the right place.” He spit on the ground again and then looked at her through narrowed eyes. “You’re Lady’s friend?”

  “Yes. I met her in Indian Territory.”

  “She’s not singing around here, not lately.”

  “Lady . . . Lady Gone Bad?” Rune felt as if he’d been poleaxed. “You two know the most famous female singer in the West?”

  Manny shrugged. “See her now and again.”

  “But Angel, how can you know her? Lady’s an outlaw!” Rune turned to look at her in amazement.

  “So they say.” Angel raised her chin. “I don’t believe she’s ever been convicted of a crime.”

  Manny chuckled and then spit another stream of tobacco.

  “That doesn’t make Lady innocent. That makes her good at her job.” Rune looked from one to the other, feeling like he was missing something important.

  “Lady is a creative inspiration,” Angel said. “I made a point of meeting her at Robber’s Cave when we were there to hear her sing.”

  “I never saw her up close.” Rune thought back. Angel had left him at one point, but she hadn’t been gone long. That must have been when she’d met the singer. “We were there when she got inspired to write that ballad, weren’t we?”

  “Oh, yes! ‘Lady Gone Bad’s Shoot-out at Stone Corral’ is great. But I like ‘Lady Gone Bad’s Firefight at Boggy Saloon’ even better. You know she creates her ballads from real-life experiences. That’s what inspired me to do the same with my novels.”

  “I can see you admire her,” Rune said, still puzzled. “But you met her only one time. Why would you call her a friend? And why would she send you here?”

  Manny cleared his throat, rubbing his beard. “Fact is, Lady takes a liking to somebody and they’re friends for life.”

  “That’s it,” Angel quickly agreed, nodding at Manny. “I hope you’ll understand my situation. I need to change my looks and pretend to be somebody else. Is it possible to do that here?”

  “Sure is, little lady.” Manny grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “I got just the place for you.” He motioned with his head. “Up the ladder in the hay loft. Just don’t touch Lady’s guitar.”

  “Thank you. Maybe I could sleep up there, too?”

  “Sure thing. Use the pillow and quilts.”

  “I’m most appreciative.”

  Manny frowned at Rune. “You gonna be hanging around, too?”

  “Guess so. I’ll go turn in this horse and buggy. Bring back my horse.”

  “I’ve got room. But you pay. The lady stays for free.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Rune stepped from the buggy, walked around to help Angel down, but Manny had already set her on her feet, treating her like she wa
s spun silk. Irritation spiked. He wanted Angel totally dependent on him, and here she already had a man to do her bidding. Probably the way she lived her life. Didn’t matter. Pretty quick, he’d turn that situation on its ear.

  When Rune had Manny loaded down with parcels, he watched Angel hurry the few steps to the livery stable. She turned, gave a little wave, and then disappeared into the dimness inside. She was like a cat landing on her feet and licking up the cream.

  He shrugged. She was what she was. He glanced around to make sure nobody had been watching them. Not a soul in sight at this time of day. As far as he could tell, they’d slipped her into the stable with no one the wiser.

  With Angel in place, it was time to turn his mind to other business. He climbed into the buggy, clicked to the horse, and set off down the street. Night was coming on and the Bend would fast be coming alive. He needed to get rid of the horse and buggy, get cleaned up, and meet up with the Verdigris Gang at the Red River Saloon.

  Most likely the V Gang had slept the day away. They’d be hung over but raring to go. In prison, they’d stored up plenty of oats to sow, and they’d been plowing fields aplenty since reaching the Bend. It wasn’t smart, calling that much attention to themselves, but Rune understood the need. If he’d had nothing on his mind, he’d probably have joined them.

  Gunfire erupted down the street, breaking into Rune’s thoughts and causing his horse to dance sideways. As he got the animal under control, he noticed the leader of the Verdigris Gang headed down the boardwalk with a satin-clad honey clinging to his arm.

  Rune slumped in his seat. Last thing he needed was to try and explain away why he’d been out of town in a buggy. He was a tagalong with the gang, so he was always skating on thin ice.

  “Hey, Rune!” Baines Callahan called, waving and starting across the street, dragging the woman with him.

  Rune cursed under his breath, damning his bad luck.