The Angel's Devil (Savage Series)

by Lisa Rae

  She hurriedly finished up her meal and paid, too hungry to walk away from it this time as she did earlier while in Diablo's company. Having taken note of what the men looked like without being obvious that she was staring at them, Angel left in search of her brother Roark.

  Knowing she would probably find him in the saloon, Angel hoped she would not run into Diablo while searching for her brother. Stepping through the batwing doors, Angel spotted Roark at the mahogany bar drinking and chatting with some of the men.

  When standing with his back to the door, Roark made a habit of watching behind him from the mirror behind the bar, and had seen Angel step in. When she looked his way, their eyes connected in the mirror, and she motioned for him to come outside.

  Diablo was inside the Nuttal & Mann's saloon, and he spotted her the moment she stepped through the saloon doors. He wondered what was up as he watched Angel signaled for Roark to come outside with her.

  Once outside, Angel led Roark swiftly away towards the Grand Central Hotel & Cafe' while she filled him in on what she had heard. As they were nearing the cafe' door that led to the street, the bunch of men that Angel wanted to point out to Roark, was walking out the door.

  "That's them," she said in a whisper.

  Roark and Angel walked into the hotel door as if that was their original destination. After enough time passed, Roark peeked out the window of the hotel to see that the men were headed to the saloon.

  "Why don't you go ahead and get an early night's sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day with the 4th of July celebration going on. I'm going to go see if I can work my way into their group."

  "Sounds good to me," Angel replied and then turned and headed to her room, while Roark walked back out the door they had come in.

  * * *

  Having a restless night, Angel didn't get much sleep. Dreams of Diablo holding her in his strong arms, kissing her soft lips and delicate neck kept waking her back up. No matter how hard she willed herself to not think about him, it didn't work.

  When the sunrise was just moments away, Angel finally decided to get out of bed and head to the cafe' for an early breakfast. Miners were used to getting an early start, and were already eating breakfast when she entered the café. Smiling, she greeted them as she walked past to an empty table and sat down.

  It wasn't long before Roark joined Angel at her table. He looked like he had a rough night as he pulled a flask out of his vest and poured a little whiskey into his coffee.

  "Hair of the dog?" Angel asked with a little laugh.

  "Those boys sure love their whiskey," Roark groaned. "But I think I'm getting in good with them."

  "That's good. Do you think you'll be able to become one of the gang by time they do the next stage holdup?"

  "If it's in a few days like we’re thinking it is, then I don't know. I don't want to push my luck. We already know how ruthless they are. They wouldn't hesitate to shoot me even if they were only a little suspicious.”

  After a moment of silence Roark continued, "I don't want you involved with that bunch, so let's keep our distance unless it's important. I'm hoping when they are ready to leave town that they'll invite me along," Roark commented as he stood up to leave.

  "Be careful and watch your back," Angel said worriedly.

  Nodding his head, Roark walked out of the cafe' to join up with his new outlaw friends.

  As more locals came into the cafe' to have breakfast, that being miners and gamblers, they pooled their money together to make a $200 purse for a roping contest for the cowboys who were in town.

  It didn't take long for them to decide the details of the contest. Nat Love and five other colored cowboys made up half of the contestants. Their trail boss picked out some of the most wildest mustangs he could find out of a heard that had recently been brought in off the range.

  The rules of the contest were that each cowboy was to be mounted. Each was to rope, throw, tie, bridle, saddle and mount a certain horse that was picked out for them in the shortest time possible.

  Angel didn't notice Diablo walk up to stand beside her as she was too busy enjoying watching the contest from the moment a .45 shot announced the start.

  Nat Love mounted his mustang in exactly nine minutes, with his next nearest competitor was twelve and a half minutes. This record gave him the championship of the West. Angel had never seen a horse pitch a man so much as that mustang did. Nat never stopped sticking the mustang with his spurs and using a quirt on his flanks until he proved to the horse he was the master.

  Right then the crowd named him Deadwood Dick and announced him champion roper of the western cattle country. With the roping contest over, a dispute arose over who was the best shot. It resulted in a shooting contest that was arranged for that afternoon, as there happened to be some of the best shots with revolver and long gun in the West present that day.

  Now noticing Diablo was standing beside her she asked him, "I assume you will be entering the shooting contest?"

  "I'm afraid I don't have much choice. Seeing as if I don't, there would be a bunch of young men, who are trying to make a name for themselves, challenging me every time I turn around. I don't want to be responsible for a bunch of senseless killing."

  "Then why are you a gunslinger for hire?" Angel asked.

  "Believe it or not, Angel, I don't hire my gun out to just anyone. I have to believe in them, and what they are doing is right. And I didn't choose to become a gunslinger, in a way it chose me when I defended myself and killed a notorious outlaw. I do it now because it's what I am good at. Just like you play poker, because it is what you are good at," Diablo said with bitterness at the last part.

  Angel knew he was implying the fact that she could stack the deck and cheat to win. It hurt her that she could not tell him the truth. That she did not do it to win people's money. That she purposely lost just as many hands to keep the game going, in order to get in close with people and learn information. Upset and hurt, Angel turned and walked away from Diablo.

  Cursing under his breath at himself, Diablo realized too late what he had said. He did not like it when their conversations ended this way . . .

  * * *

  That afternoon the shooting contest was held. There were men like Stormy Jim, who claimed to be the running champion; Powder Horn Bill, who had a reputation of never missing what he shot at; White Head, a half breed, who generally hits what he shot at; Diablo, a gunslinger who was known for being one of the fastest draws and deadliest aim; and after much coercion from the spectators and Diablo, agreeing to enter the contest, was Angel, a well-known sharpshooter.

  The range was measured off at 250 yards for rifle and 150 yards for the Colt 45. At that distance the bull’s eye was about the size of an apple. Each person was to have 14 shots each for rifle, and 12 shots for the pistol.

  Nat Love won the contest by getting all 14 in the bull’s eye with his rifle, shooting from the hip; and 10 of the 12 with his Colt. Next were Angel and Diablo, who tied for second place, with 12 of the 14 with their rifles, and 8 of the 12 with their pistols. Third place went to Stormy Jim who got 8 of the 14, and 5 of the 12.

  With the contest over, and Nat Love declared the overall winner for the day, most everyone headed to the saloon to celebrate.

  Angel spotted Roark with his newly made outlaw friends throwing down shots of rye and carousing with the prostitutes. Both of which he has had much experience at she mused.

  Invited to join in a poker game, Angel gladly accepted. She was only too aware that Diablo watched her intently at times when he was not engaged in conversation with someone.

  The rest of the afternoon passed with what was typical of a western town that had no law, and had lots to celebrate. There was lots of drinking, men firing their weapons into the air, and an occasional fight among men who had already had too much to drink.

  Howard Brook, the prominent looking business man that told Angel he was the one who bought all the steers, came into the saloon that evening and bought a shot of wh
iskey and a beer chaser.

  Angel noticed that Mr. Brook mingled his way over to where Diablo was holding up the bar, and initiated an intense conversation with Diablo, that ended with a hand shake and money exchanging hands.

  Now what would Mr. Brook need to hire Diablo's services for, Angel wondered? Now throwing suspicion towards Mr. Brook, Angel knew she would need to find out what he was up to. Was being a business man just his cover for what he was really up to? Was he possibly connected to the Treasure Coach robberies?

  Many thoughts ran through Angel's head as she tried to devise a way to get close to Mr. Brook to learn the truth. The easiest way was literally staring her in the face, but she did not want to see him. It would mean spending lots of time with Diablo, and pretending to enjoy his company.

  But would she really have to pretend? That was the thought that scared her . . . as she put a smile on her face and walked over to the mahogany bar beside Diablo to order another beer.

  "Would you care to join me in hand of poker?" Angel asked.

  "So that you can take the rest of my money? No, I think I'll pass on that. But you can join me for a moonlit ride," Diablo said with a mischievous grin.

  Going for a ride alone again with Diablo was the last thing she wanted to do, but with a nervous smile she replied, "Alright."

  They left the saloon and walked to the livery stable in silence. Angel saddled her red roan gelding, while Diablo saddled up his big gruello stallion as it snorted impatiently ready to go. Leading their horses outside, they mounted, and Diablo headed them north out of town.

  They rode in silence until they were clear of the town. Then Angel felt the need to break the silence. "Diablo, I . . . want to explain something to you . . . about my card playing."

  Looking at her, he quietly listened as she nervously explained, "I don't stack the deck to win everyone's money. Many times I stack it to make someone else win, and I loose. I enjoy playing. If the same person always wins, then the game won't last long. I do it to keep everyone in the game longer."

  He believed her, but Diablo felt there was something she was not telling him, and it made him curious to find out what it was. "I know. I watched you play today. You only dealt yourself a winning hand if you was getting low on money, and needed some to stay in the game. And I suspected you did it for a few of the men who were poor players too?"

  Unable to look Diablo in the eye Angel said, "Yes, I hated seeing them lose all their hard earned money."

  Laughing happily, Diablo proclaimed teasingly, "So you really are an angel! All this time I thought you was a devil in disguise."

  With his referencing her name, she couldn't resist asking about his name, "What about you. Are you really a devil?"

  "Some people think I am. I received the name when I killed a notorious gunslinger. People believed only a devil could kill him. So they started calling me El Diablo. When I drifted on, I shortened it to just Diablo," he explained.

  "But what about your Christian name? Why do you not use it?" Angel asked in curiosity.

  "Because that person died a long time ago," Diablo replied sadly, as he thought about how his parents were killed by the same Apache Indians that raised him for three years. Until he was sixteen and he ran away to join the white people again, only to be treated like a half breed. When he was forced to kill Matt Kane in a fight, it earned him respect, just not the kind of respect he had been hoping for.

  Angel saw the sadness in Diablo's eyes and wondered what had happen to him years ago? She wanted to ask, but felt she had pushed him far enough for now.

  Angel hadn't realized they had been riding for quite some time, until Diablo stopped his horse on a ridge that looked down over a big ranch that was nestled in the Black Hills.

  "Whose place is this?" she asked.

  "Mr. Brook's," Diablo replied.

  "Isn't that the man who bought the three thousand steers that arrived yesterday?" Angel asked, trying not to seem too overly interested in Mr. Brook.

  "Yes, that's the man."

  Having seen money exchange hands earlier that evening between Mr. Brook and Diablo, Angel was hoping that he would say more as he looked down on the ranch with its rather large recently built ranch house.

  Turning his horse away from the ranch Diablo said, "We better head back to town, it's getting really late."

  Angel turned her horse to follow, knowing there was something he was hiding, her earlier compassion for him turned into suspicion again as they rode silently back to town.

  By the time they had made it back to the livery stable, the silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife. When Angel had finished unsaddling her horse and put him away in his stall, she turned to leave not expecting to be able to get any more information out of Diablo tonight.

  As she started to walk towards the stable doors, Diablo grabbed her arm and spun her around into his open arms. He didn't give her time to object, as his mouth came down on hers hungrily. Caught completely off guard, Angel wasn't physically or mentally ready to fight him off, and quickly succumbed to his physical touch that set her body on fire.

  She willingly put her arms around Diablo's neck and pulled his head down to meet hers. Her mind reeled into oblivion as she enjoyed their deepened kiss. Their tongues fought a battle that left them both breathless as their hearts pounded out of control.

  With one arm still holding on around Angel's narrow waist, Diablo used his free hand to unbutton her silk shirt. When Angel had chosen to stop wearing dresses after her husband died, she also had given up on wearing the restrictive corset. Now Diablo took advantage of that as his hand roamed freely over her breast with only the thin chemise in between. He kissed her neck as she arched and gasped at his touch.

  Diablo knew he had her to the point that he could take her right then, and was seriously considering it when the hostler stumbled into the stable drunk. The commotion startled Angel back to reality as she pulled away, and quickly buttoned up her silk shirt.

  The hostler didn't see them in the dark as he stumbled into his small room in the barn to go to bed, but the spell was already broken.

  Hurriedly, Diablo caught up to Angel as she was leaving the barn. Even though it was very late, there were many men still up celebrating, and he didn’t want any harm to come to Angel as she made her way back to the hotel.

  He did not try to make conversation as he walked her back to her room. He was now angry at himself for taking it too far. He had only intended on kissing her. But once her warm curvy body was in his arms, he couldn't think straight as passion consumed him.

  As they neared her room, Angel was nervous with anticipation that Diablo would want to continue where they left off in the livery stable before they were interrupted. Her body wanted to invite him into her room, while her brain yelled . . . run away as fast as you can.

  When they reached her door, Angel didn't have to make a decision as Diablo quickly kissed the top of her forehead and said, "Sweet dreams, my Angel," and turned and walked away.

  My Angel . . . did Diablo really think she was now his woman?

  Angel couldn't help but to think about Diablo as she climbed into bed. She needed to find out what Mr. Brook was up to . . . but was it worth the cost of giving her heart to Diablo?

  Chapter 6

  Standing at his hotel room window, Diablo was looking out at the main street of Deadwood and thinking about the time he spent with Angel the night before. From the moment they bumped into each other at that abandoned sod house, Diablo was not only attracted to her, but drawn to her.

  In his travels out West he had heard her name mentioned before. About her being an excellent poker player, marksman, and . . . beautiful. He had doubted the beautiful part until he saw it for himself. He couldn't understand why a woman with her brains and beauty would be living the lifestyle she was? It intrigued him, and made him want to get to know her even more. He knew her and her brother, Roark, were up to something, but what?

  Just then, Diablo saw Roark and a
n ugly bunch of outlaws ride by, headed south out of town. He wanted to follow and see what Roark was up to? But he had already agreed to do a job for Mr. Brook today. Considering he lost a good portion of his money playing poker with Angel, he needed the job.

  He spent the next hour cleaning and checking his Colt and his Winchester rifle. Satisfied they were in excellent working order and fully loaded, he headed for the livery stable with his saddlebags over his shoulder.

  After a quick brush down, Diablo saddled his impatient horse and headed north for Mr. Brook's ranch. If things went as planned, he should be back in town by noon. His stallion was chomping at the bit to run, and once they cleared town, Diablo let him have his head for a little while.

  With all the gold robberies lately, Mr. Brook had hired Diablo to secretly transport his gold to the assayer's office in Deadwood, and to keep his ears out for who was behind the robberies.

  With that last thought in mind, Diablo thought about Roark and that big bunch of outlaws he rode out of town with. Could they be the robbers? If so, did Roark know who he was climbing into bed with? Did Angel know? Was she part of it? Shaking his head clear, he scolded himself for jumping to conclusions. He had no idea yet who was behind the robberies.

  * * *

  After a couple hours of tossing and turning when she went to bed, Angel finally was able to sleep. Only to be woken again this morning by dreams of Diablo being shot.

  That thought tormented her as she stood staring out her hotel room window. Was it just fear of loss because both her husband and Barry had been shot dead? The only men she had ever cared for . . . till now.

  Or was it a premonition? Normally she wouldn't believe in such things, but she loved her brothers, and they both lived dangerous lives. Yet she didn't have dreams about them dying . . .

  Surfacing from her thoughts, Angel watched as Roark and the robbing bunch of outlaws rode past, headed out of town. Stay safe my brother, she tried to telepathically tell him as their eyes met for a brief second.

  Turning from the window, Angel finished getting dressed by putting on her hat, and buckling on her gunbelt that she never went anywhere without. She then headed to the cafe' for some breakfast.