Gambling on Love

by Sandi Hampton

  “You know, Miss Devereaux—”

  “Yes?”

  “You know, the other night when we met, I’m not sure I ever told you how sorry I am about your father.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind. Did you know my father?”

  “No, no, I didn’t. Not that I remember, but I’m a member of the Ladies Aid Society and we deliver meals to the miners sometimes. I may have seen him around.”

  Angel breathed a sigh of relief. That explained it. Perhaps Jenkins had seen her father and Mary talking about a meal.

  “Why would you ask that?” Mary wiped her mouth with her napkin.

  “Oh, no particular reason. Just wanted to know a little about him and all. I came…so far…to see him.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mary leaned over and patted her hand. “I’m really sorry. This has been so hard on you.”

  Angel managed a smile. “Thanks.”

  “Were you close to him?”

  She hesitated, then decided she’d keep her relationship with her father to herself. “Yes, we were close.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  A strange question. “A few years ago. I went back east to visit my grandfather, and I’ve been there ever since.” The lie slid easily off her tongue.

  “And did you correspond?”

  Another strange question. “Occasionally. Not very often. Why?”

  “Oh, just wondering. Chad tells me you’ve moved into your father’s cabin.”

  “Yes, I have.” Hmmm, she sure changed the subject quickly.

  “And that Evan sent materials to fix it up?”

  “Yes, he did.” How in the blue blazes did she know about that? Well, Angel wasn’t about to ask. I’m not going to volunteer anything, Mary. You’ll have to ask me.

  “Do you plan to stay here in Deadwood?”

  “Everyone has asked me the same thing. I really don’t know yet. It all depends on what I can find out about my father’s death.”

  “How are you going to do that? I thought the Army, the Citizens’ Committee, Evan, and everybody decided it must have been a case of mistaken identity.”

  Angel’s mouth tugged down into a frown. “No one said anything like that to me.”

  “They figured your father must have mistaken Evan for someone else. That’s the only explanation.”

  “Maybe,” Angel conceded, “but I’d like to know for sure.”

  “Of course you would. Forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive.” She locked her fingers together. “Let’s put our cards on the table, Mary. I’m sorry that my presence here has put a strain on your relationship with Evan. I assure you that what happened between him and me should never have happened. It will never happen again.”

  A sad sort of smile flitted across the woman’s face, but behind the smile, Angel sensed a surge of anger. “Evan said the same thing.”

  He did? The lousy—

  “But,” Mary continued, “I think it’s too late.”

  “But I—”

  Mary’s raised hand stopped her flow of words. “I don’t mean you’ve done anything. I mean, I think his feelings toward me have changed.”

  At a loss for words, Angel remained silent.

  “I’ve known for a long time that Evan didn’t love me. Oh, he cares about me, but he doesn’t love me. I had hoped I loved him enough for the both of us. But, sadly enough, I don’t think that’s the case.”

  Her heart constricted with sympathy at the pain she saw on Mary’s face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. Have you talked to him?” Even as she asked the question, she knew she didn’t want to hear the answers.

  Mary’s lips tightened into a grimace. “He told me the same thing you did. That it didn’t mean anything.”

  The words cut Angel to the quick. She had lied to save face and not hurt the gentle woman across from her any more than she’d already been hurt. “Well, since we both told you the same thing, that it didn’t mean anything, perhaps you can—”

  “Maybe. I guess time will tell.” Mary motioned for the waiter to bring more coffee.

  As Angel sipped her coffee, her gaze darted around the room. Everyone, realizing there wasn’t going to be a big scene, had turned their attention back to their own affairs.

  The sight of a big man silhouetted in the doorway caught her attention. Hat in hand, black hair gleaming, Evan stood there scanning the room. When his gaze met hers, his jaw hardened, and his mouth twisted into a frown. He marched toward them.

  “What are you doing here?” His harsh voice grated low and menacing.

  Her hands clenched into fists as she looked up at him. Why the heck was he so mad? After all, he was the one who’d left the hotel without so much as a goodbye. “None of your business.” She tried to keep her voice equally hard and cold.

  “Evan, sit down,” Mary said. “Don’t make a scene.”

  He jerked the chair back with such force that it toppled over. As he picked the chair up, he muttered under his breath.

  “I asked Angel,” Mary continued, “to join me for coffee.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Angel retorted as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Miss Devereaux.”

  “I don’t care, Mr. Montgomery.”

  “I know,” Evan said. “You don’t care about much of anything—except yourself.”

  Mary held up her hand. “Stop it, you two. We’re supposed to be adults you know.”

  Angel’s cheeks burned. Would she ever be as grand a lady as Mary? Probably not in this lifetime.

  “I see you have a new dress, Miss Devereaux, a very nice dress. Must have cost a lot of money. How did you pay for it?”

  “If you mean did I steal it, Mr. Montgomery, the answer is no. You never seem to tire of calling me a thief.” She stood up and turned to Mary. “I’ve got to go. Thank you for the pie and coffee.”

  “Wait—”

  Angel jumped to her feet. She straightened her shoulders and firmed her mouth. Aware of the curious stares, she walked slowly out the door, refusing the urge to run.

  Chapter 12

  As Evan watched Angel leave the restaurant, he couldn’t help but notice the men’s admiring glances and the women’s obvious disapproving stares. Mary was well liked in Deadwood, and there was no doubt in his mind that Angel would be censured by the respectable women of Deadwood. He wanted to scream at the men that Angel Devereaux belonged to him, but, alas, she didn’t.

  Why was he so mad at her? One moment he wanted to embrace her, to kiss her until she was breathless, and the next moment he wanted to throttle her. She’d turned his life upside down. He turned back to Mary, only to find her watching him.

  “You don’t have to be so mean to her,” she chastised him. “After all, she’s been through a lot. She lost her father, she’s been chased by Indians, and it’s been a long hard journey out here. That’s a lot for a body to cope with. And I can’t believe you just insinuated that she stole a dress.”

  Even though he felt awful about that remark but didn’t want to show it, he quirked his eyebrows at her. “I can’t believe you’re defending her.”

  She fixed a hard stare on him. “And why not? She didn’t know about me when you two…” Her voice trailed off. She blushed and lowered her gaze, staring at her coffee cup as if it were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen. A moment later, she raised her head to face him. Accusation lurked in her eyes. “But you did. So I can’t see where she’s the only one to blame here.”

  The truth hurt, and a knot of guilt and frustration formed in his belly. He had only himself to blame. “That’s a fact. It’s all my fault.”

  She plucked at his sleeve. “I think I know you fairly well. I know you didn’t force her to do something she didn’t want to do. But it happened, and nothing can change that. But I’m hurt, and I feel betrayed. I don’t know if I can trust you now.”
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  He took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I need you to tell me it’ll never happen again. Can you do that?” Her trembling voice seemed full of hope, but her normally soft voice cut into his skin.

  He hesitated. He wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, but the words stuck in his throat. He admitted the truth to himself—he desired Angel Devereaux with a growing need that couldn’t be denied.

  A muscle in her face ticked. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know where we go from here, Evan. I don’t feel I can ever trust you again. I’m not even sure we can be friends.”

  Her words stabbed him in the heart. “Don’t say that, Mary. You know I think a lot of you.”

  She stood. “That’s not enough.” She hurried toward the door.

  “Mary, wait!” He rose to his feet, dug into his pocket for money and tossed a few coins on the table. He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing more to say. I have errands to run. Goodbye, Evan.”

  She stalked away, her back straight as a ramrod. Evan fisted his hand—he wanted to hit something. He’d made a mess of everything—and a fool of himself. Everybody was probably laughing at him behind his back.

  Movement across the street caught his attention. Angel stood by a wagon in front of the general store. Three cowpunchers he recognized from an outlying ranch loaded supplies into her wagon, and she was smiling that brilliant “only for you” smile at them.

  She certainly knew how to manipulate men to get what she wanted. All three of the ranch hands were almost comical in their efforts to impress her. Well, maybe she should ask those three idiots to stand guard over her cabin—like he’d been doing. But she didn’t even know he’d been doing that. If she did, she’d probably send him packing.

  He sighed heavily and headed for the saloon. The damn women in his life were driving him to drink. He needed one now.

  Maybe more than one.

  Maybe a whole damned bottle.

  ****

  The sun sank below the mountaintops as Angel unloaded her supplies. Her encounter with Mary had delayed her arrival home. A chill wind swept down from the tree tops bringing a premonition of danger. The flapping of wings and the soft hoots of an owl drew her attention upward. An owl sat in the pine tree—watching her.

  Warning her?

  Evan had said the Sioux considered the owl a messenger, as did Eleeza. What message did it have for her? A sudden feeling that she was being watched prickled her skin. She shuddered and scanned the area but saw nothing. Still the feeling persisted. Maybe she should move into town. She quickly discarded that idea. No one was going to run her off her own land.

  After unloading her supplies, she took a quick bath in the stream, keeping her rifle within reach. Afterward, she locked herself in the cabin, a prisoner in her own home. She didn’t like it one bit.

  She willed herself to relax and climbed into bed. But sleep would not come, and finally she climbed out of bed. Dressed only in her nightshirt, she unlocked the front door and walked out onto the porch. She knew it wasn’t a wise thing to do, but Grandpapa always said you had to face your fears. If she faced them, surely they would go away. With a determined step, she marched down the steps and out into the yard.

  The sounds of the night, normally so comforting, sent shudders racing down her spine. The dark trees swaying in the moonlit night sent grotesque shapes dancing across the yard. Strange noises floated through the trees circling the house…like a noose tightening around her neck.

  At that moment, the dark forest opened its mouth, and huge monsters spilled forth. She screamed as the beasts surged toward her, snorting, their eyes wild. Then she recognized them as horses—and riders with guns. She had to get to the cabin. As she ran toward the cabin, shots rang out. Bullets slammed into the dirt at her feet. She screamed again, then ran the other way toward the trees. More bullets cut off her escape.

  Horses surrounded her. Through her fear-glazed eyes, she could see riders, all wearing kerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces, and yelling, yelling. She tried to push through the animals, but they were like a moving stone wall she couldn’t penetrate. The nearest horse lunged toward her, knocking her to the ground. Her knee hit a rock, and she felt her skin tear. Sharp pain shot through her, taking her breath.

  Suddenly, a gunshot pierced the air. The man on the near horse cried out. He clutched his shoulder, then slumped over in the saddle. Another shot rang out from high above—from somewhere in the trees. Another rider fell forward in the saddle.

  “Let’s get outta here,” one of the men yelled. He grabbed the reins of the two riders who’d been shot. With a vicious kick to his horse, he bolted past her. She rolled away from the horse’s slashing hooves.

  The other men followed suit. Bullets rained on them from above with unerring accuracy. She struggled to her feet and limped toward the cabin. She heard hoof beats behind her and glanced over her shoulder. A buckskin horse galloped into the yard. A horse she recognized. Buck—and Evan astride him.

  In a split second, he jumped from the animal’s back and sprinted across the yard toward her. With a cry of joy, she ran to him. “Oh, Evan, thank God, you’re here.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, her body crushed tightly to his chest. His heart pounded against her chest. “Angel, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, no. I’m okay, but I was so frightened.”

  “You’re safe now.” He stroked her hair.

  “Who were they? Why are they trying to hurt me?”

  “I don’t think they were trying to hurt you. They had plenty of opportunity to hurt you. I think they were only trying to frighten you.”

  “Well, they succeeded, but I think you scared them in return.”

  “Good. I meant to do worse than that. I meant to put lead into them.”

  She glanced up at him. In the moonlight, his face looked hard and angry. “I don’t understand why they did this. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know anyone here except you.”

  “It must be related to your father’s death. That’s the only thing that makes sense. They want you to leave town.” He took his hat off, ran his fingers through his hair, then jammed the hat back on. “But damned if I know why.”

  “Well, I’m glad you were here and—” Angel stopped abruptly. “What are you doing here? How did you know there’d be trouble?”

  “Let’s go in the cabin. We can talk there just in case those bushwhackers come back.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.” Warily, she surveyed the area. The dark shadows seemed to taunt her with hidden dangers. She shivered. “I’ll make a pot of coffee.”

  “Got anything stronger?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad.”

  She walked over to the porch and up the steps. Evan’s footsteps sounded behind her. His presence lent her strength. She entered the house, found a match and lit the lamp. Light flooded the room.

  “You’re hurt,” he exclaimed and pointed at her knee.

  “It’s just a scrape.”

  “Sit down and let me look at it.”

  “Evan, it’s okay. Really.”

  “Do like I say.”

  A sharp retort sprang to her lips, but she bit the words back. After all, he had come to her rescue. “All right.” She sat at the table. He knelt before her and examined her bloody knee. With a muttered curse, he rose and walked to the kitchen. He dampened a cloth, then returned to her side and cleansed the wound. “What the devil were you doing outside?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she answered. She stood up and walked over to the stove. She grabbed the coffee pot and poured water into it from the water pail. Then it was jerked from her hand.

  Evan slammed the pot down on the table with such force she was sure he’d crushed it. Then he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “You little fool. Yo
u could’ve been killed.”

  “I know, I know. It was very foolish of me. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll stay inside at night from now on.” She turned and picked the pot up again, then realized he’d never answered her question. She turned back around. “Evan, what are you doing here?”

  He took his hat off and tossed it on the table, then rubbed his jaw. “I was afraid something like this was going to happen so I’ve been watching the cabin at night.”

  “You what? You’ve been watching me?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Of all the nerve.”

  He glared at her. “Well, would you rather I had not been here tonight? Maybe you would have enjoyed their attention?”

  His words stopped her angry tirade. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here.” Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

  He stepped closer and wiped a tear from her cheek. “The cowardly bastards. At least I wounded a couple of them. I think I’ll ride into Deadwood tomorrow and see if anyone is sporting some new bandages.”

  “You think they’re from town?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ll stop by Fletcher’s office and let him know what happened.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Good idea. In fact, I think you should move into town.”

  “No. I’m not going to let them, whoever it is, run me off my land. Besides, if they’re in town, I’ll still be in danger.”

  “You’re right. There’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to stay at my ranch.”

  “I most certainly will not. People are talking now. If I moved into your house, my reputation would be ruined. If it’s not already.”

  And I can’t be around you, that close to you, and not want you.

  He must have seen the desire spark in her eyes because with a low growl he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

  “Evan, no, don’t do this.”

  “Why not? You want me as much as I want you.”

  “That’s not true.”