by Lisa Rae
The Angel's Devil
Lisa Rae
Copyright © 2013 Lisa Rae
All rights reserved.
ASIN: B00E8HD08A
Published in the United States of America
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or by the publisher. Request for permission should be made in writing to: Lisa Rae, P.O. Box 352, Fulton, Mo 65251
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TO ALL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY THAT HAVE SUPPORTED ME ON MY NEWEST ADVENTURE.
Chapter 1
Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, 1876
Playing in a high stakes poker game at the Spotted Pony Saloon was Angela Savage. Better known only as 'Angel'. She was a well known sharp shooter and ace card player, who would frequently travel around to different towns all over the West. She would stay in the towns for a while hanging out in the saloons and doing what she does best . . .
Often Angel played with a gold coin in her hand as she waited for her turn to bid. She would roll it through her delicate fingers and rub it with her thumb, as if in good luck.
What the other players never noticed was that the ruby ring she wore on her left thumb had a sharp edge on the bottom side. She was actually scraping it across the gold coin to see if it indeed was really solid gold.
The double eagle she had in her hand now proved to be counterfeit as she scraped across it with her thumb, exposing the lead color underneath the gold coating.
Angel knew that the coin in her hand had come from outlaw John Wells during the previous hand when she saw him pull it out of his vest pocket and play it. She had kept track of which coin it was as that hand was played, and made sure to win the hand so that she could check that particular coin.
When everyone else had dropped out of the current hand but her and Wells, she bid high to try and flush another counterfeit coin from his pocket. Considering she was dealing this round, she made sure he received the right cards to where he was so sure of himself, that he would throw caution to the wind and keep raising. Thinking he had Angel beat, Wells pulled another golden double eagle from the same vest pocket and tossed it on the table.
Angel on the other hand pulled her .45 ivory handled Colt Peacemaker before anyone realized what she was doing, and aimed it right at John Wells. She laid her cards face down to hide that she was only holding a pair of nines, and said to the player on her left, "Pull out your knife and scrape that coin he just laid down."
Nervously the man to her left did as he was told. Angel was well known at having a fast draw and deadly aim. And he wanted no part of it. So he pulled his skinning knife from its sheath on his side, and scraped the point across it, exposing the lead underneath. "Why it's counterfeit!" he exclaimed.
"And so is this one that he played in the previous hand," Angel said calmly, as she tossed it back onto the table to be inspected by the man who inspected the first one.
The whole saloon had gone quiet and moved away when she had first drawn her gun on Wells. Now they watched in anticipation of what she would do next.
Wells had begun to sweat profusely across his brow as he tried inching his right hand away from the table to draw his .44 Smith and Wesson. He knew he had been caught red handed. Due to all the crimes he was already wanted for in other territories and states, he would face life in prison if she turned him in.
Deciding he'd rather take his chance at dying, than spend the rest of his life in prison doing hard labor, he quickly made a grab for his iron as he stumbled back out of the chair he was sitting in.
Seeing this, Angel allowed him to clear leather before she shot a hole in his stomach. The bullet went all the way through and shattered his spine, paralyzing him as he bled out.
She wanted him dead, but not before she had a chance to ask him a few questions. Angel holstered her Colt and walked over to the dying man lying on the sawdust covered wooden floor of the saloon. Squatting down beside Wells, she looked into his frightened eyes as he cried, "I can't move. I don't feel anything!"
"That's because the bullet paralyzed you. I shot you through the gut and you will die very soon. You have already lost a lot of blood." Then in a whisper she asked eagerly, "Now tell me who those counterfeit gold coins came from?"
When he wouldn't answer her, she grabbed his shirt collar and shook him as she said sternly, "Wells, tell me who these coins came from? You're dying; you have no reason to fear that person now."
His eyes started to glaze over as he said, "El Lobo."
Angel heard the death rattle of his last breath, and knew she would get no more answers from Wells. She dug through all his pockets in search of the rest of his gold money, coming up with two more golden eagles. She scratched them with the ruby ring on her thumb and saw they too were not real. Standing, she turned to the men at the table that she had been playing poker with and said, "Check every coin on the table. I'm going to turn all the counterfeit ones into the sheriff when he gets here."
By the time the sheriff walked through the batwing doors of the Spotted Pony Saloon, Angel and the men at the poker table had found a total of five counterfeit double eagles.
"Angel, I hear you shot and killed a man while playing cards. You mind telling me why for?" Roger Pratts, the town sheriff, asked as he looked the body of Wells over and saw the stomach wound along with his .44 Smith and Wesson still clutched in the palm of his hand.
"Self defense sheriff. I suspected him of passing these counterfeit gold coins and called him on it," Angel said, as she handed the five golden eagles to sheriff Pratts for him to examine.
Looking over the coins, Sheriff Pratts was satisfied that they were counterfeit. Looking around the room he asked, "Is there anyone here who saw it differently than what Miss Angel has told me?"
Most of the men in the saloon nodded their head no, while one said, "Sheriff, it happened just like Angel said it did."
"Alright then, it's settled," Sheriff Pratts replied. Then he looked over to two men standing close to the body, "You two men carry him out to be fitted for his pine box. Angel, I need you to come down to my office to fill out a formal statement of what happened."
"Sure thing Sheriff," Angel replied smiling.
* * *
Back at the sheriff's office, Sheriff Roger Pratts asked Angel, "Did you learn any helpful information from him before he died?"
"I think so, but all he would finally say before he died was, 'El Lobo'."
"El Lobo?" Shaking his head the sheriff said, "I've never heard of him."
"Me either, but I hope to find out who he is, and if he is linked to all this counterfeit money that's been going around lately."
"There's a couple wanted posters on John Wells, what would you like me to do with the reward money?" Sheriff Pratts asked.
"Donate it to the churches so they can help others who need it," Angel replied with warmth in her smile.
"Alright, I will make sure they get the money. I wish you the best of luck, Angel. I assume you will be headin' out of town soon?"
"Yes, Roark is expecting our new orders any day now."
"Well if I don't see Roark before you guys leave, tell Roark to watch his top notch, and you do the same. You guys are searching for a dangerous lobo."
"You take care too, Sheriff," Angel replied back to him as she was wal
king out of the sheriff's office. She headed for the cafe' in the Cheyenne Hotel to order herself an early supper before going up to relax in a nice hot bath.
Sitting at her table, Angel was lost in thought about this El Lobo when news reporter, LeRoy Applebee, from the Cheyenne Daily Tribune walked up to her and politely asked, "Hello, my name is LeRoy Applebee. I am a reporter for the local newspaper. May I join you Miss...?"
"Just call me Angel, Mr. Applebee. You are welcomed to join me for supper if you like."
"No, no. I appreciate the offer Angel, but I have a deadline to meet. Would you mind answering a few questions for me about the shooting today in the saloon?" Mr. Applebee asked eagerly.
"Sure, what would you like to know?" Angel asked, already knowing what the reporter wanted to find out.
"Well, Miss..., I mean Angel, I am told you are the woman who shot the outlaw John Wells today. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
Mr. Applebee continued his questions. "Good. Can you tell me what happened that led to you shooting him?"
As Angel explained that she suspected that Wells was playing with counterfeit money and what transpired after, Mr. Applebee was quickly writing notes in his leather covered notepad.
"So you didn't know this man before meeting him here in Cheyenne at the Spotted Pony Saloon?"
"No, I had never seen nor heard of him," Angel replied.
"Did he tell you where he got the counterfeit double eagle coins from?"
"No, I didn't get a chance to ask him before he died," Angel lied. El Lobo was a lead she did not want leaked to the press. She had no idea at the moment who or where this El Lobo was, and if a reporter published the name in a newspaper, she would never find out.
"Just one more question Angel. You are well known out West as an ace sharpshooter and a lucky poker player, but you are not wanted by the law, so why do you live the gunslinger's life that you do?"
"Mr. Applebee, you asked if I would answer some questions about the shooting at the saloon today, and I have. That last question is a personal one, and one I don't feel inclined to answer. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to eat my supper in private now," Angel said, dismissing him from her table.
Angel knew exactly why she lived the gunslinger's life that she did . . . revenge! When Angela Savage was only twenty three years old, she married U.S. Marshal Wes Sutherland. Three years later while she was pregnant with their first child, an outlaw by the name of Christopher Wolfe kidnapped her to put an end to Wes chasing after him.
Up on a balcony overlooking the main city street, Wolfe held a pistol to Angel's head. Forcing her husband, who was standing on the dusty street below, to throw down his own weapon to save her life.
After Christopher Wolfe shot her husband between the eyes, he shoved her off the hotel balcony to the hard ground below. Angel survived the fall with only a couple broken bones, but the baby did not. Within a few hours she had a miscarriage.
Yes, revenge was the only word that described why she lived the life she did now. She had sworn that someday she would find Wolfe and kill him for what he had done to her family. She wasn't heartless enough to become an outlaw, so the only way she would be able to find him was to become a poker-playing gunslinger. And an excellent one she became . . .
After finishing her supper, Angel ordered a hot bath for her room and went upstairs to relax in the steaming water. Having already finished their assignment here in Cheyenne, she was ready to move on to the next one. Hoping that it would bring her closer to finding Christopher Wolfe.
* * *
"Miss Angel, may I pour you another cup of coffee?" the waiter of the Cheyenne Hotel's cafe' asked.
"Yes, thank you," Angel replied as she finished up her breakfast of French toast, fried potatoes, and bacon.
"Good morning my Angel," Roark said as he seated himself across the table from her. "I hope you slept well?"
"Yes, it felt good to turn in early and get a peaceful night's sleep," Angel replied with a relaxing smile.
"Good, because I just received a telegram with our next orders. We're headed to Deadwood," Roark told Angel.
"That's in Lakota Sioux country."
"Yes, as you know back in November, Major General Philip Sheridan and Brigadier General George Crook were called to Washington, D.C. to meet with Grant and several members of his cabinet to discuss the Black Hills issue. They agreed that the Army should stop evicting trespassers from the reservation, thus opening the way for the Black Hills Gold Rush," Roark replied.
"So how do we fit into this?" Angel asked curiously.
"There is a stagecoach specially designed to haul only gold and valuables from Deadwood to Cheyenne called the 'Treasure Coach'. Just a ways outside of Deadwood an outlaw gang, dubbed the 'Treasure Coach Gang', keeps robbing it.
"They always kill the stagecoach driver and all the guards before taking the gold, so as to leave no witnesses. We've got to figure out who these men are," Roark explained.
"Sounds like this isn't going to be an easy job. I hope it doesn't take as long as it did to help Gabriel bust up the Phantom Outlaw Gang and their hideout."
"Yea, me too. That was a long rough year for me having to ride with a gang that robbed and murdered innocent people. Thinking about it now still turns my stomach," Roark said sadly.
"But think of all the outlaws who are now either dead or behind bars because of what we did. We saved lives!"
"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier to stomach."
Changing the subject, Angel lifted an envelope from the table saying, "Well hopefully this puts you in better humor."
Roark's eyes lit up as he asked, "Is that from Gabriel and Julianna?"
Smiling, Angel said, "It arrived this morning. I was waiting on you to open it."
"Well open it! I want to know if I have a little nephew or a little niece," Roark said anxiously.
Laughing at Roark's excitement, Angel opened the letter and started reading it to him . . .
Dear Angel & Roark,
I hope this letter finds you both in good health. I'm writing to tell you that you now have a nephew named Willie. He is big and healthy, with ten fingers and ten toes, and has his father's black hair. Gabe couldn't be a more proud father! His city marshal job is going well too. Now that it is known in town that Gabriel Savage is the city's marshal, things have calmed down some. It hasn't stopped the outlaws from coming into town, but they are being more careful not to do anything that would draw Gabe's attention to them.
I do have another bit of news for you. A bounty hunter brought in Barry Zimmerman's body to claim the reward on him. Said he put up a fight and had no choice but to kill him.
Tears filled Angel's eyes and started to roll down her cheeks as she finished reading the letter to Roark . .
Angel, I know you was very fond of Barry as I was. Especially considering he did help me escape to safety and was kind to me. I hope this information does not upset you too much. Someday the right man for you will come along, just as the right woman will come into Roark's life when the time is right.
Well, I guess I better close for now. Willie has woke up and is hungry again. Take care of yourselves and Gabe says to watch your back trail.
Love,
Julianna & Gabriel Savage
Angel folded up the letter and placed it back into the envelope as Roark asked bluntly, "Did you fall in love with Barry while we were in the Phantom Gang's hideout?"
With tears still in her eyes Angel replied, "I was starting to. We had become very close after Gabriel kidnapped Julianna."
"I'm sorry for your pain Angel, but Julianna is right. The right man will come into your life when the time is right," Roark said trying to cheer Angel up.
"It's alright Roark. There's only one particular man I want to find, and that's Wolfe. I'm going to go pack my bag so we can leave. Meet you at the livery stable in say, an hour?"
Chapter 2
Riding their horses, Angel and her brother Roark went north
on the rutted stage road out of Cheyenne headed for Deadwood, in the Lakota Sioux country of the Dakota territory. Most of their travel would be going across open prairies full of buffalo grass, sagebrush, and prickly pear cactus.
Riding his sorrel colored stallion with four white stockings, Roark said to Angel, "Dealing with dangerous outlaws along the way will be bad enough, but we're going to be riding into hostile Indian country soon, so don't let your guard down. We need to spot them before they spot us, if we want to keep our scalps."
Nodding her head in understanding, Angel was thinking of one particular deadly outlaw, Christopher Wolfe. Wanted for bank robberies and multiple counts of murder, including her husband, U.S. Marshal Wes Sutherland.
While healing from a broken arm and leg, from when he had pushed her off the balcony, Angel spent most of her days in the local saloon learning to play poker and drink with the best of them. Drinking was the easiest part, as it made her forget her sorrows of having just lost her husband, and it helped her concentrate on preparing for her revenge.
A card shark was staying in town during that time, and Angel convinced him to teach her everything he knew. By the time Angel's arm and leg had healed up enough that she could walk without crutches, she dug out her husband's ivory handled .45 Colt Peacemaker and his Sharps .50 caliber Buffalo gun and started target practicing.
Growing up in the Savage family, Angel learned to shoot right along with her brother Roark. Her father, Fredrick Savage, believed that everyone should know how to defend themselves and be able to hunt to provide food on the table. Wanting to please her father, Angel practiced and practiced till she was as good as him.
When Angel was satisfied that she was ready, she started drifting from town to town in search of Christopher Wolfe. She shortened her name from Angela to Angel, and went back to using her maiden name so that if she happened upon Wolfe, he would not recognize her by her name. As far as she was concerned, Angela Sutherland was dead . . .