“What did they want?” Angel asked.
“They seemed to be looking for something up at the mine. I don’t know what; they wouldn’t tell me. But it doesn’t sound good.”
Angel moved closer to Holt. She touched his arm and murmured, “Was that what Garrett was rambling about?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. None of it makes any sense to me.” His gaze shifted back to Neal. “Did they ask you where I was?”
“Yes. I said you’d left the area awhile ago. They said something about an inquiry.”
Holt stiffened. “They’ll have to catch me first.”
“Now, let’s not get all upset,” Rachel said cheerily, moving toward the kitchen in the parsonage. “Why don’t I warm up some nice hot cocoa for us?”
“Sounds good,” Angel agreed. “I’ll help you.”
They left the two men to talk and moved out of hearing range to exchange quick words of their own. “Is it serious?” Angel asked Rachel in the kitchen. “Did you see the marshals?”
“No, I didn’t see them, but the town was all abuzz with the news. Angel, I didn’t recognize Holt with short hair and a suit. What’s going on? I know he’s a tad of a scoundrel, but he isn’t dangerous, is he?”
“No,” Angel said. “There’s been some mistake. I think Garrett’s behind whatever’s going on. He followed us from Oro and ambushed us halfway to Denver.”
“Goodness. What happened?”
Angel told her, and Rachel looked a little envious of their adventures. Then Angel remembered something else.
“Did you tell Neal about shooting that Olsen man?”
“Ssh,” Rachel cautioned her. “He mustn’t overhear. No, I didn’t tell him.”
“But, Rachel —”
“Don’t you understand, Angel?” her friend pleaded. “I couldn’t risk it. Not after he proposed to me at long last, and when I’m about to have everything I’ve ever wanted. That was a stupid, foolish thing to do, going up to the mine, and I don’t ever want to talk about it again.”
Rachel’s tone was fierce. Tears filled her eyes.
“Of course,” Angel said soothingly. “We’ll say no more about it.”
But inside she was troubled. If Neal loved Rachel enough to marry her, wouldn’t he understand what happened, and absolve his bride-to-be of her painful burden of guilt?
THE FLAMES IN THE grate crackled and popped merrily in the silence reigning in the parsonage study. Angel sat on the sofa across from the grate, extending her cold hands toward the warmth of the orange flames. Holt leaned against the mantel, halfheartedly smoking a thin cheroot. Neither of them could find words yet, not after the announcement Holt had made.
Angel’s eyes were still swimming with tears. Holt was leaving her again. Nothing swayed him this time, not her arguments, not her sweet wheedling, and certainly not her reminder she was the legal owner of the mine and thus had every right to go with him.
She raised her gaze to study the handsome man lounging across the room from her, wondering if anything ever reached his steely heart. How terribly Holt must have been hurt as a child, to maintain a blank facade toward her now. Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and what was worse, he didn’t seem to regret his going.
The silence had drawn on longer than she could bear. Swallowing hard, Angel glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Neal should be back any minute. He said he was walking Rachel home and coming straight back to the parsonage.”
“Maybe he ran into some of his do-gooders.”
Holt’s tone was harsh. He still hadn’t accepted Neal or the possibility his brother could care for him, or want to make amends for the past.
Angel realized she had lost the battle, but the war wasn’t over yet. She said, “You should reconsider, Holt. Nobody will bother the mine now winter has hit. You might be stuck up there for days, maybe weeks. There’s no shelter there anymore. What if you got hurt or sick?”
“Dammit, Angel, we’ve been over this a dozen times. Somebody has to guard the mine, even in winter. Otherwise it could be milked dry by spring.”
“Then take me with you.” Her eyes beseeched him, but he tore his gaze away with an irritated noise. “Or hire someone else to watch the place. Just don’t go alone.”
“I don’t trust anybody in this one-horse town, and besides, you wouldn’t survive a winter in the mountains. Not without the cabin. Hell, maybe I’m crazy, but if the mine isn’t guarded day and night, summer and winter, I have a feeling we’ll lose it altogether.”
“There’s no chance of it, Holt. We checked on the claim in Denver. Unless I sell — which I have no intention of doing — the Lucky Angel is legally mine.”
“Laws and lawyers don’t mean anything out here, sweetheart.” Holt clamped down on the end of the cheroot and spoke through clenched teeth. “The law of the land prevails, which means scum like Garrett and his men are like little kings. They could string both of us up and nobody would stop them.”
“Surely Garrett is answerable to someone, somewhere.”
Holt shook his head. “Nope. The only fellow to ever question our good sheriff was a man by the name of Burl. Harlow Burl, I believe it was. Anyway, Burl was a fancy eastern lawyer with equally fancy ideas about justice and the law.” He paused to puff a smoke ring from his lips and it drifted lazily across the room. “Burl threatened to report Garrett’s activities to some senator back east, as I recall. But he never did, of course.”
“What happened to him?”
“Burl was found a couple of miles up Clear Creek, with a bullet lodged in his brain. All that book-learning crammed in there didn’t so much as slow the shell.” Holt looked at her to emphasize his story. “Needless to say, Garrett’s friends confirmed the sheriff was in the Oro saloon all day. Only I happen to know different.”
“Lily?”
Holt nodded. “Garrett wasn’t within a mile of the place. When he heard about Burl’s death all Garrett said was, ‘Well, there’s a lot of wilderness around here, ain’t there? A city boy kin get hurt purty easy.’”
Angel shuddered, though the warmth of the fire had soaked into her bones. “But now you want to go up and guard the mine alone. Don’t you see that’s crazy?”
“No crazier than letting you talk me into working it with you again. The mine is yours, Angel, from top to bottom. Don’t think it doesn’t gall me every time I think about it. But without the mine’s profits, you can’t restore Belle Montagne. Craddock promised to deed it back, but a man’s word is only as good as the man. You have a long, hard fight ahead of you. You’ll need a lawyer or two of your own to get back your land. The least I can do is provide the means.”
Angel shook her head and rose from the sofa, approaching him with her hands outstretched. Seeming reluctant, Holt sandwiched her hands in his own, forced to listen as she extended her final plea.
“If you won’t take me with you, then hire someone else to go along. You’ll be an easy target all alone up there. I can’t bear to think of you being injured or sick without any help at all. There must be someone you could trust to help you guard the mine.”
“There is,” said a third voice from the doorway. The couple glanced over in surprise at Neal, briskly brushing off his snow-flecked coat and hat. He hung them on a stand and came into the study. “I’d like to go with you, Holt.”
The announcement obviously caught the younger man off guard. Holt looked at the preacher with mixed emotions, not the least of which was suspicion.
“This isn’t your fight, Neal.”
“No, but you’re my brother, and it’s high time we both accepted the fact, don’t you agree?” Neal’s calm blue gaze met an icy gray one and stayed equally steady.
“Now’s the perfect chance for me to prove to you I’ve always been and continue to be sincere about making amends, Holt. Father made his mistakes, but he was only human. So am I. It’s obvious you still hold a grudge against us both. While it’s too late for Arthur, I hope I might have a chance to kindle some relationship with you.”
“What’s to learn?” Neal said. “I can fire a gun like anyone else when the occasion warrants. As for the church, my parishioners would understand. Their former minister was a miner, as well. He had to leave from time to time, and the elders substituted for his sermons quite well.”
Angel could hear Holt’s teeth grinding. “No,” he snapped.
She saw her chance and took it. She still held his hands, and now she squeezed them as she murmured, “For me, Holt. Do it for me. I swear I’ll ride after you if you go up there alone. Take Neal with you. It’s past time you two got to know each other. I know it’s hard, but as you told me once yourself, you can’t accept responsibility for someone else’s mistakes. You have to look within yourself for the answers, and for forgiveness.” Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of her own father.
“Please, Holt,” she said, “don’t let bitterness consume you both. Let the past go, let the future begin.”
Holt saw the love and pain in Angel’s beautiful blue eyes and realized she didn’t have the slightest idea of how much she asked of him. But, knowing Angel, she would round up a horse and chase after him, no doubt end up frozen to death before she made it halfway up to the mine.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll take Neal along, but only if you’ll have Rachel come and stay here at the parsonage. One of us will ride down each week to check on you. You’re not to go anywhere after dark, and you’ll keep the doors and windows bolted at all times.”
“Of course,” Angel agreed as she impulsively flung her arms around his rigid frame. “Oh, Holt, I’m so happy you agreed. It’s the perfect solution, you’ll see.”
But Holt had already fixed Neal with his stony stare.
“As for you … no preaching at me, understand? I don’t intend to listen to the Sermon on the Mount all winter long.”
Neal didn’t dare crack a smile. It looked like he knew he stood on perilous ground, and the inch he had gained today was far too precious to quibble over.
“You have my word, brother. For the next few months I intend to adopt the complete garb and tongue of a layman.”
“Good. See you do,” Holt warned as he turned and left the room with a brisk stride.
Angel looked after him for a moment, then turned her hopeful gaze on Neal.
“It’s a start, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed. One I wouldn’t have dreamed of achieving without your help.” But Neal didn’t look particularly jubilant.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No. Yes. I’m not sure.” He hesitated, as if wondering if he dared complain. “It’s Rachel, I guess.”
“You’re worried about her reaction to the news?”
He shook his head. “It’s something more, Angel. There’s something wrong with her. I can’t put my finger on it —” he gestured helplessly “ — but she’s acting oddly. I think something is weighing heavy on her mind. I wanted to ask, since you’re her closest friend, if you could possibly find out what it is.”
Angel carefully controlled her reaction. She only hoped she hadn’t paled at his words. “Why, Neal, of course I’ll speak with her. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Bridal nerves, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed thoughtfully, before he retired for the night.
Angel waited until he had gone to let out her breath in a long, slow hiss. There would be no keeping Rachel’s secret forever; Neal was too perceptive a man. She would have a word with her friend again tomorrow. Rachel must come to realize a secret would only erode the foundations of her marriage over time. Nobody knew that better than she.
Chapter Fifteen
BELLS ON SLEIGH HARNESSES jingled to a stop outside the parsonage doors. With apprehension, Angel went to the window and peered out into a snow flurry that struck before dusk. The wintry glow of the fading sun cast the yard of glistening white, and the smart red sleigh parked outside, into sharp relief.
Angel smiled when she recognized the slight figure stepping down from the sleigh, and hurried to open the door. Rachel was back from her weekend visit with Prudence Maxwell, who lived across town.
“Mercy,” Rachel cried as the door swung open and the two women briefly embraced, “I thought we’d never get here. Mother says it’s the deepest snow since ’68.”
“I’m glad you arrived safely,” Angel said. “I was getting worried.” Following Rachel’s lead, she turned to wave goodbye to Mrs. Maxwell until the sleigh was underway again. Shutting the door against the bitter chill, Angel helped Rachel unwind her scarf and took her friend’s damp woolen mantle to hang before the fire.
Rachel followed Angel into the study, briskly rubbing her freckled hands together. “It’ll certainly be a white Christmas. I wonder how the men are holding out up on the mountain.”
“Holt stopped by briefly yesterday,” Angel said, her tone carefully neutral as she remembered the tense scene taking place in this same study not long ago. She begged him to stay for Christmas, only a week away, and he didn’t hesitate in his answer. No. An unequivocal, unapologetic no. Neal would come for the holidays, but not Holt.
No, the mine was too precious to take time out for the rest of the world, Angel thought bitterly. It was her mine, and she reasoned it could go along fine for a few days. After all, even outlaws took time out for Christmas, Angel argued. But it was a waste of breath. Holt and Neal had been up on the mountain for three weeks, and since then she had hardly seen either of them. If not for Rachel, she knew she would have gone crazy.
The two women had cemented what was at first a tentative friendship. Rachel stayed in town during the week, returning to her mother’s country home on the weekends. It gave all of them their breathing space, and though Prudence had initially disapproved of her daughter leaving home, she couldn’t fault Angel as a pillar of respectability the town of Oro so sorely lacked.
In fact, if not for the shocking incident of Angel’s quarrel with Lily Valentine, Mrs. Maxwell would have had no concerns at all. But the church ladies’ favorite topic of conversation at Triumph Hall was still the night Angel had chased the town strumpet right back into her own saloon. It was enough to make Mrs. Maxwell hesitate at the idea of her precious daughter associating with a libertine.
Rachel was saying, “Mother and I argued again. She thinks I should move home until the wedding.”
“But that’s not until spring, Rachel. Surely she doesn’t expect you to be without benefit of female companionship so long.”
Rachel made a wry face. “No, she doesn’t. But she thinks Justine Garrett or Sally Wilson would be better company for an ‘innocent’ like me. Mother thinks you’re too worldly to be wise.”
Angel chuckled at the notion, moving to pick up the sampler she had left on the arm of the chair and comfortably rearranging herself before the fire. “Maybe she’s right. Perhaps I’m unduly influencing you, hmm?”
“Only for the better. I’ve never had a friend like you, Angel. Someone I could talk to heart-to-heart, without any need for pretenses. And someone who will actually answer my not-so-innocent questions.”
They laughed together as Rachel reclined on the sofa, taking off her snow boots and propping up her stocking feet on an ottoman. “Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I suppose Mother’s got a right to put in her two-cents’ worth. But after a weekend with her I wonder why I didn’t leave home years ago. Do this, don’t do that, dress like this … why, it’s utterly maddening. Do you know, if I was a teensy bit braver and my voice a whole lot better, I might run off and become a saloon singer myself.”
Angel tried to smile at the unbidden reminder of Lily Valentine. She knew Holt had gone to visit the woman each time he was in town; he made no move to deny it. In fact, he’d been open about the entire affair, inquiring if Angel wanted to come
along. Of course she hadn’t. The mere idea was ridiculous. Word would have filtered back to Prudence Maxwell if she had, and Angel never would have gained another ounce of respectability in Oro. So Holt had gone alone. Angel was left to wonder if their reunion was more poignant than hers and Holt’s.
“… don’t you agree, Angel?” Rachel was asking.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, I was woolgathering again. This storm must have upset me more than I thought.”
“It’s true the roads are treacherous; why, the horses slipped twice on the way here. But I wouldn’t worry about Holt and Neal if I were you. They’re both strong, sensible sorts. They wouldn’t risk leaving the mountain in weather like this.”
“It’s possible we’ll be spending Christmas alone,” Angel said. “Or, more likely, I will. Neal did promise to come down.”
“Still no luck persuading Holt to be reasonable?” At Angel’s headshake, Rachel threw up her hands. “Men. As if a blooming mine couldn’t be left unattended in the middle of a bloody blizzard.”
Angel laughed. “You sound like Aunt Clara now. English accent and all.”
“I do, don’t I? Well, Auntie’s promised to come over for the holidays, and of course you’ll have to come too. I’ll make Mr. Brindle take us all for a ride in his fancy new sleigh.”
“Mr. Brindle?” Angel inquired curiously as she poked her needle through the embroidery hoop.
“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” Rachel bounced up and down on the sofa and clapped her hands with glee. “Mother has an honest-to-goodness beau. It’s his sleigh we were riding in tonight.”
“I didn’t see a man with you.”
“That’s because he had business. Or so he said.” Rachel lowered her voice conspiratorially. “If you want my opinion, I think he’s entertaining more prospects than my mother, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean to say he’s a fortune hunter?”
Rachel shrugged. “Well, Mother may be many things, but she isn’t a beauty and she isn’t very nice.” She ignored Angel’s wide eyes at her honesty. “But she is relatively wealthy. Pa saw she’d lack for nothing before he left for the war. She invested most of it wisely. Yes, she’d make some fellow a nice ripe plum. I think this Brindle chap is trying to land her in his lap. Or her fortune, rather.”
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