But he interrupted, saying, “Take it. You might need it — since you got company coming.”
His pause was just long enough to make her pale, thinking she’d been right after all, only to have her cheeks flood with color again when she realized he’d done it deliberately. But there was no time for her to lose her own temper over it, which was what she was about to do. She was forced to look in the direction he nodded toward first, and that took care of her temper, for riding hell-bent for leather toward the ranch were three MacKauleys.
“Oh, no,” she groaned. “Morgan must have plowed a field racing to get home to tell his pa what I said. That’s R. J. MacKauley out in the lead with Morgan, and it looks like R. J.‘s oldest son, Frazer, is bringing up the rear. I suppose I should be glad he’s along.”
“Why?”
“He’s the mildest-tempered of all of them— which is not to say he can’t explode like the rest, just that he’s not as bad as they are. He’s the only MacKauley who gave me one furious look when it started, then ignored me after that. But then, Frazer’s got a sort of weird sense of humor that no one understands but him. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds the whole thing hilarious by now.”
“Can he calm the others?” Angel asked as he took her arm and led her up the porch steps.
“Occasionally… what are you doing?”
“Tutting you in a better position. If they dismount, they’ll have to look up to you. If they remain on their horses, at least you’ll face them eye to eye.”
Strategy — while her stomach was churning with dread. “I’d just as soon not face them at all.”
She was sure she’d only thought it, not said it, until he replied, “Then go in the house and let me deal with them.”
Cassie blanched. “No!”
Angel sighed. “Make up your mind, lady. Thought you wanted a chance to talk to the old man.”
“I do.”
But she hadn’t thought she’d get it, had just a few hours ago taken the stand that almost guaranteed she would. Only she hadn’t counted on it being this soon, hadn’t had time to think about it at all with Angel on her mind. Yet she needed time to plan confrontations like this, to think out what she needed to say so she could say it right. Without forethought, Cassie tended to mess things up — like she’d done a number of times today already.
But she had no time. The MacKauleys were almost there. And Angel stepped in front of her to face them, causing her more alarm than the MacKauleys did.
She stepped around him to plead, “Please, don’t say a word. And don’t stand there looking like you hope they’ll draw on you. I told you, the MacKauleys have touchy tempers. It doesn’t take much to set them off. And this would.”
“This” was the rifle he was still holding. Cassie took it from him and set it against the wall. By the time she turned back, dust was floating up on the porch from three horses skidding to a halt.
“Mr. MacKauley,” Cassie said respectfully as she moved to the top of the steps — putting herself in front of Angel.
R.J. was bigger than his sons; at least he was much broader of frame. Morgan had mentioned once that he was only forty-five. His red hair wasn’t touched by gray yet, nor had it started to fade. He’d had his four sons at an early age, and they ranged from twenty to twenty-three — one a year, which was what was said to have killed his wife.
R. J. barely spared Cassie a glance. Morgan and Frazer did likewise. They were all more interested in Angel right now, so Cassie jumped in with what she needed to say while she had the chance.
“I know my still being here is an irritation, Mr. MacKauley, but my papa’s been delayed getting back due to an injury. I don’t expect him for another three weeks, and the Catlins have scared off his foreman plus two other hands. We have a few men left, but none capable of taking the foreman’s job. So you can see why I can’t leave yet, at least not until my papa returns.”
Cassie drew a deep breath, amazed and pleased that she’d managed to state her major concern without being interrupted — even at the mention of the hated Catlins. But she still had her second concern to address, and the way the three men were continuing to eye Angel, she doubted she’d have much time to finish.
“You never gave me a chance to say how sorry—”
Cassie was right. R. J. interrupted her, still staring at Angel. “Who is he, girlie? And none of that crap you told my boy about him being a drifter.”
“Why don’t you ask me?” Angel said in a tone so menacing — at least to Cassie’s ears— that she panicked.
“He’s my fianc�.” She blurted out the first tiling that came to mind.
That got their attention, including Angel’s. But seeing how Morgan was looking so incredulous, then furious, she knew she’d more than blundered by coming up with that non-threatening explanation of Angel’s presence. And now she had to further the lie with a logical reason why she’d let Morgan court her if she already had a fianc�.
So she added quickly, “I thought he was dead, but he’s shown up to prove otherwise.”
R. J. didn’t buy it. “You’re lying, girl,” he said without the least doubt. “I don’t know where you found him, but he ain’t nothing to you.”
Cassie was at a complete loss then as to how to support her outlandish claim — until Frazer remarked, “Pa’s right. If you two just got reunited, you’d be crawling all over each other. Seems to me—”
Cassie didn’t wait for him to continue. She turned toward Angel, wrapped her arms around his neck in a death grip, and smashed her lips against his.
No one was as surprised by her actions as Angel was, but he didn’t ruin her attempt at “reuniting” by pushing her away. He did, however, put one arm around her waist to move her to the side, away from his gun, because he wasn’t about to leave himself defenseless no matter what point she was trying to make. So he accepted her kiss, even absently returned it, but all the while he kept his eyes on the three men watching their performance, dividing his attention between them and the woman pressed along his side.
As the seconds passed, R. J. turned red in the face, yanked his horse about, and rode off. Morgan gave Angel a killing look before he did the same. Frazer made no move to follow them. He sat there grinning, and finally his amusement became vocal in a burst of laughter.
Hearing it, Cassie let go of Angel’s neck and ended the kiss. But his arm tightened around her waist, keeping her pressed to his side. She had to put her hand on his chest to keep her balance as she turned to see who was so amused — as if she hadn’t guessed.
“Didn’t know you had it in you, Miss Cassie.” Frazer’s voice came at her with the humor still in it. “This’ll have Pa cussing and ranting for a week, which will be a pure pleasure to watch.”
Frazer’s sense of humor never ceased to amaze her, though she didn’t appreciate it at the moment. “But will he still come around at the end of the week?”
“Nah.” Frazer grinned at her. “You were supposed to be scared off and run home to your mama. Fact is, Pa was getting plumb worried with the day approaching and you still here. He’s probably relieved you’ve given him an excuse to back off—‘cept for this fellow. Just who are you, mister?”
“My name’s—”
“John Brown,” Cassie said quickly, cutting Angel off.
But that got only a chuckle from Frazer. “You can do better’n that, Miss Cassie.”
She blushed, then paled as Angel tried again. “My name is—”
Her shoe heel stomping on the toe of his boot stopped him this time — and got her released. She heard him swear beneath his breath and lost even more color, though Frazer was having a fit of laughter now.
“Reckon it don’t matter all that much,” Frazer got out when he wound down, but there was a wicked twinkle in his green eyes as he added, “Maybe we’ll be having us another wedding ‘fore you head back north. Pa just might get a real kick out of that kind of just deserts.”
Cassie ignored his humor-i
n-full-swing. “But can I count on being left alone now?”
“From Pa? Maybe. Don’t know about Morgan, though, since he believed you ‘bout your friend there. Ain’t seen him so mad since Clay came home to tell us what he’d done — and your part in it. ’Course, the Catlins are another matter, aren’t they?”
With a last irritating chuckle, Frazer tipped his hat and rode off, and Cassie was left with the horrible realization that she was alone again with Angel. After what she’d just done to him — oh, God, the enormity of it, the outrageousness — she wondered if she could just run into the house and slam the door in his face. No, she owed him an apology first—then she’d run inside and slam the door shut.
She swung around, only to find him just behind her right shoulder, and too damn close under the circumstances. She started backing up along the length of the porch, away from the door, which couldn’t be helped because he didn’t stay put, but slowly followed her. He didn’t look furious, yet there was a menacing determination in the way he stalked her that set her heart to pounding as hard as it had when she’d thoughtlessly started that kiss.
“I’m sorry,” she began in a squeak, then continued in a rush. “I’m really sorry about your foot. I didn’t mean to — well, I did — no, no, I shouldn’t have. But their finding out who you are — I was afraid if d make things worse. And—”
She gasped as her backside came up against the side railing, ending her retreat. But he kept on coming, until the front of him was pressed to the front of her, at least the bottom half was. She still leaned back, stretching as far as possible over the railing to keep some distance between them, if only a little.
His hands slapped down on the railing on each side of her as he ground out, “I told you I’m not known down here.”
“You — you don’t know that for sure. You’d be amazed how a reputation like yours gets around. There’s no point in taking a chance that they might not have heard of you. That wouldn’t help matters at all.”
“And you think your little lie and demonstration did? Honey, all it accomplished was to show me how sweet-tasting your mouth is. We’ll have to try it again sometime without an audience.”
The color came, bright flames of it across her cheeks. “You’re madder than you look, aren’t you?” she guessed miserably.
“My toe’s still throbbing, lady. I figure you owe me for that.”
Cassie groaned, “Please, I’m a lousy subject to seek revenge on. You saw how unsatisfying the MacKauleys found it. And I never would have stomped on your foot — or done the other — if I’d had time to think about it. But I panicked. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was afraid—”
“You still are, and it’s starting to annoy me. You had enough gumption to stand up to three large Texans, two of ‘em madder’n hell. I’m just one man.”
“But you’re a killer.”
She really wished she hadn’t said that. It rang out like a death knell, hers, and the silence that followed was excruciating. Cassie felt like she’d actually struck him, when all she’d done was state a fact. But the emotion that gathered in his eyes…
“You think I’d hurt you?”
Truth time. He wasn’t just asking to hear the answer. He was forcing her to hear it, too, and accept it once and for all — and stop acting like a silly goose every time he got close to her. Deep down she’d known the answer. She just hadn’t been listening to her own instincts.
“No, you wouldn’t hurt me — so back off.”
She shoved against him as she said the last, and slipped past him to head for the front door. Her temper was rising by the second as she thought about what he’d just done to her, playing on her fears to get even, then making her aware of it. If she had to say one more word to him…
“Miss Stuart?”
She whipped around, ready to blast him with her now simmering anger, but she was forestalled by his expression, so intense, with his eyes fixed on her mouth.
“I’ll wait a while to collect on that debt.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I–I thought you just did.”
He shook his head, a slow, unsettling grin forming on his lips, the first of any kind of humor she’d seen out of him, and this she would have preferred not seeing. He didn’t say anything else. He simply sauntered down the side porch and out of her sight.
Cassie went inside the house and closed the door quietly instead of how she’d intended to. It was her heart that was doing the slamming.
Chapter 8
“I don’t start fights, but I don’t back down from them, either.”
Cassie wished she weren’t still nervous around Angel. Yesterday they had established that he wasn’t going to hurt her, so this continued unease whenever he got close to her didn’t make much sense. She wasn’t in fear for her life. She wasn’t even in fear for her virtue. That parting threat he’d made yesterday hadn’t held much substance, she’d decided after she’d had time to think about it. After all, she knew her attributes, and attracting handsome men wasn’t one of them — at least men not interested in ranching. And insinuating that he was going to kiss her again to get even, well, the threat of it had obviously been the getting-even part. He wouldn’t actually do it.
But this morning when Angel had insisted on riding out with her to check on the herd, Cassie had gotten all nervous and flustered again. And this time it came out in chattering that had suddenly turned serious when she’d asked him how many men he’d challenged. His reply hadn’t been the answer she’d been looking for. But now that she’d opened the subject, her curiosity wouldn’t let her abandon it.
“They say you’ve killed more than a hundred men,” she pointed out as nonchalantly as she could manage.
“They say a lot of things about me that aren’t true,” he replied.
They were riding side by side. She glanced over at him, but his expression didn’t warn her off. He looked quite indifferent, actually.
“Have you kept count?” she asked.
He met her eyes for a moment, and she could have sworn there was a spark of humor in them as he replied, “I hate to disillusion you, but the number isn’t so high I can’t keep track of it.”
He obviously wasn’t going to share that figure with her. “Were they all fair fights?”
“Depends on how you define fair. I’ve killed a few who didn’t see it coming. But then, I have no qualms about shooting a man who’s got a rope waiting for him somewhere. I’ll give him the same chance the hangman does— none.”
“You don’t call that murder?”
“I call it roundabout justice. You think these low-life bastards give their victims a chance when they rape, rob, and kill ‘em?”
He was no longer indifferent to the subject. In fact, there was enough heat in that statement to make Cassie wish she’d left well enough alone. So she was appalled to hear herself ask, “How many is a few?”
“Three.”
“And the reasons?”
“One tried to hire me to shoot his partner in the back. Figured if he paid to have it done, he wouldn’t be accountable. I don’t see it that way. His partner wouldn’t have, either. But I would have turned that one over to the sheriff if he hadn’t made the mistake of telling me the local lawman was on his payroll.”
Which was nothing she hadn’t heard of before. Caully’s own sheriff was more or less in Dorothy Catlin’s pocket, since he happened to be her nephew. But then, last term the sheriff had been one of the MacKauleys’ cousins.
“So nothing would have happened to that man,” Cassie guessed.
“Nothing at all, and the partner, who happened to be a decent, honest man, would have been murdered some night just because he’d gone into business with the wrong man. I didn’t feel like letting that happen.”
Cassie wondered if she could have made such a decision. Thank God she’d never had to. “And the other two?”
He stopped suddenly. When she noticed, she pulled up and had to twist around to look at him. He wa
s leaning forward against the saddle horn, staring straight at her, his face more shadowed at that distance.
And he stared for a number of tense seconds before he asked, “You sure you want to know?”
Put that way, in that tone of voice, she knew she ought to say no. But she’d latched onto this notion that the more she knew about Angel, the less frightening he’d be. So far it wasn’t working, yet her meddling instincts wouldn’t let her quit. Still, she couldn’t quite get the word out, so she had to nod her answer.
He set his horse to motion until they were riding side by side again. He wouldn’t look at her as he spoke. “A couple of years ago I happened upon this man forcing himself on a farm girl. It looked like he might have dragged her out of the field she was working. You could see her farm in the distance with the fields running right up to this river I was following to the next town. He had her on the opposite bank, far enough up behind the trees that I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t heard her screaming.
“By the time I crossed the river and came up behind them, he was almost finished with her. She’d been beaten, probably for resisting him. Still, for all I knew, they could have been married, though I just can’t stomach a man who’d treat his wife that way. So I suggested he leave the girl alone. He suggested I get lost — in some pretty colorful terms. Then I noticed the young boy who looked enough like the girl to be her kin. He’d apparently tried to help her, and he was lying not too far away with a knife stuck in his belly for his trouble. He was already dead.”
Cassie swallowed hard before she said, “So you shot him.” It was no question.
“I shot him.”
“Good,” she said so quietly he didn’t hear.
“But the girl was beyond caring. She never did stop screaming. And the second I shoved that bastard off her, she up and run into the river. I went in after her, but the water deepened not too far downriver, and she slipped under it. By the time I pulled her out, she was dead — and I felt like going back and shooting that bastard again.”
Angel ww-3 Page 6