My Angel (7 page)

Despite the outburst Devil continued. "Men gather to watch her bathe. Tomorrow he plans on letting those who will bid in earnest take a closer look, examine the merchandise."

"I'll kill Stevens with my bare hands." The words emanating from Dakota came as a low growl. Dakota yanked Devil to his feet.

Devil's gaze turned murderous. "Let go," he said. "If I didn't have so much respect for you, Dakota, you'd be a dead man right now. I suggest you don't push your luck. I'm here to right a wrong. I suggest you be at the bordello tomorrow."

At the bordello? Oh, Emma.
Fear for Emma shook Angela to the core.

"Stevens knows who I am," Dakota said.

"Find a way."

Dakota let his hands fall to his sides. Devil relaxed. Angela breathed more easily now. Dakota's jaw wasn't quite so tense, nor were his hands still flexed. There wouldn't be a fight here in the parlor.

Emma needed someone trustworthy inside the bordello.

Once again Angela sat back, leaning against the nightstand, her eyes closed. Her father would be adamant, his
no
final. She would have to take this into her own hands. Dakota loved Emma; that much was obvious. But Dakota needed to know Emma would be watched over or he'd ruin the carefully laid plans they'd been constructing all evening. Angela prayed Devil's presence at the whorehouse would be enough to hold Dakota back.

If Dakota went flying into the bordello with bullets ricocheting, it was a sure bet he'd land himself in jail and Emma with a noose around her neck. When someone Dakota loved was threatened, restraint was not something he could handle. That fact would make the situation even more dangerous for anyone inside.

She could handle a gun and a knife better than most men. No one inside the brothel would recognize her. As a housekeeper or maid, her own safety was not in question.

Faced with the obvious, Angela no longer had a choice. She'd have to disobey her father. It was the only way to protect Emma. Somehow she would get off the train Sam meant to put her on tomorrow morning, and then she would think of a way to get inside the bordello.

~ * ~

Standing on the platform at the train station, one valise in hand, Angela realized this was her last chance to tell her father about her plans. She couldn't.

Angela had gone over everything in her mind. There was no other way to keep Emma safe.

She was afraid, but not for herself. She feared for Emma.

"I love you, Papa." Angela didn't like herself very well at the moment, but she squared her shoulders, stiffening her spine and her determination in the process. Her knife, newly sharpened, lay in its sheath. Strapped tightly to her leg, the weapon was easy to reach, and she had a derringer in her valise.

"I love you, too."

Sam Chamberlain kissed Angela's forehead and stepped back, his hands resting on her shoulders, his eyes memorizing every inch of her. Guilt was a powerful force to reckon with, and right now it had a stranglehold on her heart.

She nodded. "I know," she said.

"Write to me, and I want you to send a telegram as soon as you reach
Boston
."

"Yes, sir." Long good-byes were not her father's style, and right now she thanked her lucky stars for that fact. Her remorse was so powerful that if he spent much more time here, she'd give in and tell him what she meant to do.

The train let out a loud whistle, steam rolled from the engine and the wheels began a slow shudder. She stood on the steps, watching her father walk away as the train lumbered through the center of town. The car she rode in was about to pass by the Wells Fargo station and the livery.

She had seconds to act. Turning away, she stepped to the other side, her valise in hand, and jumped from the train. The impact jarred her, stealing her breath and stopping her heart. Dazed, she lay on the ground for a few minutes. Low, gray clouds covered the sky, a slight mist dampening the ground where she lay. Where there should have been two buildings, there were four.

Angela closed her eyes. When she finally opened them and tried to sit up, nausea forced her back. She thought for a moment that she would be well and truly sick. A few minutes later she tried to rise again, this time more slowly. The ground moved beneath her and the sky spun crazily, but she held still and the motion slowly stopped.

This was not what she'd anticipated, but she'd had to wait longer than she'd intended. And now that she was off the train, safe and sound, she didn't want to think about the fear she'd felt moments before she'd jumped or the second thoughts that had rushed through her head.

She stayed behind the livery for over an hour before she ventured out. She had dressed plainly, hoping no one would notice her movements through town. Her dove gray dress buttoned to her throat, and her hair pulled back in a snug bun at the nape of her neck gave her a somber look. Cautiously, she stepped onto the sidewalk in plain view. Her knees wobbled. No one saw.

Now she had to devise a plan to get inside the bordello. Bravado and bluster had always worked for her before. Perhaps it would again. She inhaled once for courage then started forward.

The sound of Devil's voice reached her. Pressing back against the building, Angela held her breath and waited for him to move on. She remembered Devil's pronouncement that he meant to find her again. Not today. Not until she was ready.

With her heart pounding erratically, she waited until Devil disappeared. Then she set her mind to finding a way to the beautiful mansion outside of town that had become a whorehouse only a few months before.

The coach she hired dropped her off at the front door of the bordello, and Angela watched the vehicle sway down the long driveway. She schooled her nerves and inhaled one long, deep breath. The cold metal of the knocker seeped into her fingers, bringing with it a sense a glimpse of grim reality.

Just as she was about to knock, the door swung open and a huge man stared down at her. His eyes swept the length of her prim gray dress with the white lace collar. He grunted and began to close the door.

Angela stepped forward, her booted foot catching the door before it shut in her face. Her voice shook. "I'm here for the maid's position."

"There's no maid's position," he said, his voice thick, deep and gravelly, his stance immovable.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir"--she curtsied politely--"but I've got the ad for the job right here. I've come all the way from
Rapid City
. See?"

"There was no ad for a maid," he said.

Emma held out the yellowed newspaper, her fingers trembling so the paper shook. "You're wrong. It says"--she cleared her throat in a ladylike fashion--" 'An experienced woman needed for the upstairs rooms in the mansion just east of town.' That's me, experienced."

"You've got the wrong address," he said.

"Zeke?" a sweet voice called from somewhere inside the darkness. "Zeke, darling, who is it? Anyone interesting?"

"An upstairs maid, Miss leBon."

"Well, just don't stand there; let her in," came the breathy reply. "I've been trying for two days now to find someone who could take care of our guest."

"See, I told you there was a job."

Shaking his head, Zeke moved aside as Angela, with her chin held high, swept past him. He pointed down a long, dark corridor to a spot of light. "Go on," he said. "Velvet will be waiting, seein' as she's expectin' someone."

Pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the right and the strange, erotic sights in front of her, Angela let out a little gasp of surprise. Two of the banister posts were carved into private male parts, and the walls were covered with plate-glass mirrors.

Trying not to let her mouth gape open, Angela moved on wooden legs toward Madame leBon's office, a surge of fear pounding through her heart.

The parlor was deathly quiet, and the clock's chiming sounded like a death knell. A cloud of hazy smoke hung in the corridor, and even the incense floating from the madam's office didn't alleviate the musty odors clinging in the .air.

"Hello." Angela stepped forward, her hand extended in greeting. "I came for the job. The one upstairs. I'm very qualified." Angela flashed the biggest smile she could manage and hoped it was enough.

The madam didn't move, nor did her expression change. She was, Angela thought, the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. Angela let her hand fall to her side; then, not knowing what to do she wound both hands tightly together in front of her.

Madame leBon's fingers were tucked under a perfectly shaped chin, an amused smile gracing her lips. Her shiny blond hair arranged in a coronet circled her face halo-like. The dress she wore was buttoned tightly to her chin, yet the bodice accentuated the lush, full- curves of her breasts.

What struck Angela as singularly expressive were the lady's eyes. They were huge, round and a little slanted, and they were exquisitely blue. The madam's eyes sparkled like the high mountain lakes when the sun glistened on the rippling water.

Madame leBon scrutinized her for a few long seconds. Then, sitting upright, her hands resting on the desk, she said, "You'll do, but not for a maid. I've need of another girl to work the floor. Have you ever done that before?'' Her eyes searched.

Angela nodded, her breath quickening. "Yes, ma'am."