My Angel (5 page)

"I thought that between Dakota and Trey you knew where to find shelter."

To the Sioux, Dakota was known as Wildcat-Who-Stalks-The-Night, and Trey as White Eagle. Trey was her half brother, and Dakota acted like kin. While she was growing up they had taught her the ways of the Sioux people. Right now Dakota had disappeared into the
Rockies
with his wife, Emma, and it seemed that half the bounty hunters and Pinkertons in the west were looking for them, including Emma's brother, Jacob St. John. However, Jacob seemed more interested in clearing Emma's name than finding the pair. He'd even stepped out of retirement from the Pinkertons to help Emma.

"I did find a dry place."

He eyed her, a crooked slant to his lips, his silence unnerving.

"After the storm drenched me to the bone," she added.

The rumbling chuckle that followed surprised her. "And did you leave the dress shop buttoned so haphazardly?" he asked, and for a moment she saw a twinkle in his eye. She didn't know what he spoke of; then a horrid thought assailed her.

Devil.
Angela looked at her bodice. What else could she do? She didn't know if she gasped or shrieked at the sight of her buttons, so hastily done by Devil. And undone. Not in that order.

From the tips of her toes she felt the heat climb to the roots of her hair, felt the blush steal across her cheeks and settle on her nose.

"I didn't know," she said, her hands fluttering along the row of pale yellow buttons, unsure of what to do about the predicament.

Her father let out a snort of disgust. "If I wasn't convinced before you needed finishing school, I certainly am now. You're a mess, Angela. A sweet, endearing mess, but no lady would parade around dressed as you are. I love you. Otherwise I wouldn't care, and I'd let you run around the mountains your entire life wearing nothing save your buckskins and a shotgun propped on your shoulder. I want more for you, and so does your mother. Always remember that."

She closed her eyes in a heartfelt prayer to the spirits above that her father had dismissed her appearance as nothing more than her untamed wildness.

"Yes, Papa," she said, her eyes lowered in an unusual show of compliance. She respected him and loved him dearly, even though she didn't agree with him.

Sam Chamberlain did want more for his daughter, and he was as immovable as the mountains themselves. Nothing short of a catastrophic event would change his mind.

"Papa, have you heard from Jacob? He's been gone too long. He should have found something out by now. I'm worried."

"Emma has Dakota to look after her," Sam said.

"I know, but Mama has been so worried. What are we going to do? They can't hide forever."

"Trust Jacob. He's the best Pinkerton around, and he'll discover the truth."

"I saw Emma's picture on a wanted poster."

Sam leaned forward and eyed Angela critically. "And I
heard you followed Devil Blackmoor out of town." Sam's tone changed from firm command to hard control. "Any truth to the rumor?"

At his question, her heart stopped, froze mid-beat, and all thoughts of Emma and Dakota flew from her mind. She'd entertained thoughts of riding after Devil. Did that make her guilty? "No, Papa," she said. "I didn't follow him."

"Then you didn't meet him on a little-used trail?" Sam's finger tapped the mahogany desktop. He had loving hands, comforting hands--hands that could kill if provoked.

"Well..." She hesitated, her fingers wound together and clasped tightly in front of her. Only her father could make her cower in fright. Terror oozed through her bones.

"Angela?" His voice nearly roared in the unnatural silence surrounding them.

She couldn't lie. "I... we had an encounter."

"I don't like the way that sounds. An encounter?"

"Yes, Papa. He thought I needed rescuing." She didn't. Dakota and Trey had shown her how to ride and shoot a bow and arrow at the same time. She rode better than most men.

Sam sat back in his chair, his arms folded negligently across his chest and his expression grim. "You?'' One eyebrow rose in mock disdain. "You're the most unlikely candidate for rescuing I've ever known."

"I know that. He didn't." She nodded, feeling a slim thread of hope grow in her heart. She could defend herself, could trap and could follow a trail. She knew how to survive in the high country, hunting her own game and foraging for food.' 'There is a measure of truth in the story. One of those horseless carriages spooked Kangee and he took off. Since we were on the outskirts of town, I let him run. The next thing I knew, Devil scooped me off my horse and rescued me."

Sam sat forward, his forearms resting on the desk. "And then what?"

She jerked, surprised that he might have guessed about the kiss. Angela sucked in her lower lip, remembering how Devil's mouth had crushed down on hers, recalling the spine-tingling sensations that had rolled through her, languidly at first
then with the speed of stampeding horses. "Nothing, really." She wasn't going to tell her father the man kissed her. He'd go after Devil with only one thought in mind: torture. If she told Sam how willing she'd been, there'd be a shotgun wedding by noon tomorrow. She didn't want that either.

"You're not going to tell me."

Angela shook her head; then changing her mind, she nodded. "I hit him."

Sam leaned back again, his eyes lingering on his daughter. Once again Angela waited for someone else to decide her fate. "And then what?"

"He let me go."

Sam drummed his fingers on his desk, a thoughtful expression written clearly in the lines of his face. "Really..." His gaze raked over her. "You're not telling me everything."

"Papa," she began only to find herself interrupted.

"We can talk again later." With a wave of his hand and a low chuckle, he said,' 'Go on now. Clean yourself up properly."

Chapter Three

Two weeks later, long after Angela had given up hope of convincing her father not to send her East, Devil Blaekmoor reappeared in
Denver
. Standing at the window of the hotel room she and her father shared, Angela watched Devil escort a woman through town then turn down the infamous
Holladay Street
into the red-light district.

"Emma?" she wondered out loud.

Angela stretched forward, pushing her nose out the half-open window and leaning precariously over the edge of the sill. She had prayed every day that no one would find Emma and Dakota. But now it seemed her prayers had gone unanswered.

"Emma .

Trey was Angela's half-brother and Dakota was Trey's blood brother. When Dakota's parents died on their way west, Dakota was adopted by a Sioux war chief. Trey and Dakota had grown up together with their Sioux families, had fought at the Battle of Little Big Horn against General Custer and the Seventh Cavalry. While Trey was part Indian by birth, Dakota wasn't. Dakota's skin was stark white but his soul was pure Sioux warrior, and he didn't have a drop of Indian blood in him.

Angela had been with Jacob when the telegram had arrived. The Pinkertons had wanted Jacob to find his sister and bring her in. Jacob had been torn between rushing to his sister's rescue or joining the Pinkertons to find the real murderer. And Jacob knew if Dakota disappeared into the
Rockies
, no
one would find him until he was ready. So Jacob had set about to find the real criminal.

Now Devil Blackmoor had brought in Dakota's woman for money. Emma's face had been on wanted posters all over
Denver
and the state of
Colorado
. Angela pulled herself inside the room, determined to do something to help Emma.

Nervously, Angela tapped her fingers against the window-pane. Her forehead rested against the cold glass, and she inhaled a ragged breath.

"Think."
Think.

In a blind panic and knowing Devil and Emma would disappear from sight any second, Angela whirled from her perch at the window. She raced through the room, grappling with the doorknob in her haste to reach the street before they turned a corner. Her skirts tangled around her feet and legs, she stumbled awkwardly through the long hallway and down the stairs to the lobby of the hotel.

"Oof." The impact jarred her all the way to her toes. "I'm sorry... I..." Angela bent to retrieve the packages that had flown from the man's arms when she ran into him.

"You should be," the man told her, his tone indignant.

"I'm so sorry." Her voice was soft--strained. "Here." She handed him the last package and dashed out the door. "I'm sorry." But she almost smashed into a lady.

"Where I come from young women are polite." The man's harsh words followed her. "They watch where they are going."

She ran, her skirts held high.

The buildings blurred into one.

In the middle of the street she stopped, searching for some sign of Devil and Emma. A few seconds later she headed into the red-light district. More than anything Angela wanted to help Emma prove her innocence. More than anything she wanted to see Dakota happy.