Morgan hadn’t noticed her very much the first time she’d come to visit her father. She had been eighteen then and nothing much to look at, could just barely be called pretty, and Caully had its fair share of pretty women, beautiful women even. And she was much too tiny and childlike for Morgan’s tastes. There was simply nothing passion-inspiring about her, or so he’d first thought.
But there was something damn strange about Miss Cassandra Stuart, something that made her more interesting and attractive each time you saw her. She sort of grew on you—at least her looks did. You began to see that although she might be small in stature, there was nothing childlike in the way she was put together. And the more you saw her, the prettier she actually seemed to become.
Morgan had found himself thinking about her a lot before her visit ended last year, and he’d been in a fighting mood all that summer because he hadn’t realized before she left that he wanted her. Then she hadn’t come last winter and his interests had turned elsewhere, nothing serious, but he’d buried his feelings for Cassie, forgot about them—until she’d showed up again.
Strangely, upon his seeing her again, it was like the first time, nothing much to make a man sit up and take notice. He thought he must have been a bit crazy the previous year to have let her into his thoughts and even his sexual fantasies. But it had taken less than six months for his feelings to turn around this time. He was back to wanting her within the first month of her arrival, and he was serious enough about it to ask his pa’s permission to marry her.
It was telling of R. J. MacKauley’s hold over his sons that his approval was the only one they considered needful for whatever they wanted. Charles Stuart’s blessing on the courtship of his daughter was secondary, Cassie’s not even considered. MacKauley men were unbelievably arrogant when it came to taking some things for granted.
That was one of the things R. J. held against Cassie, that she’d managed somehow to convince his youngest son to break from tradition and do as he damn well pleased, without R. J.‘s permission. That what Clayton “pleased doing” was with an enemy just threw salt on the open wound. But Morgan’s wound was open and festering, too, because he still wanted Cassie and knew he’d never have her now.
He didn’t blame his father, who was too rigid and set in his ways to change. He didn’t blame a feud that he didn’t even know the cause of, but that had been going on for as long as he could remember. He blamed Cassie for butting her nose in where it didn’t belong. If he had married her, he would have broken her of that interfering habit she had. Now he’d never have the chance.
But she’d never know how he still felt about her. Not by look or deed would he let her know. And come the end of the week, she’d be gone, and he could get on with the business of forgetting her again. Looking at her now, he decided it couldn’t happen soon enough to suit him.
Cassie wasn’t paying attention to the fact that Morgan’s green eyes were drifting over her diminutive form as they stood there. Despite the embarrassing way he’d put it, she pounced on the possibility that Clayton MacKauley might be regretting returning his bride to her family. The idea was so unexpected, so guilt-relieving, she grasped it and hugged it to her breast. It meant her instincts hadn’t been so far off the mark after all. It meant her plan to join the two families in marriage to end their feud still might work— eventually. Of course, she wouldn’t be around to see it happen.
“What are you doing with that, Cassie?”
She focused her eyes back on Morgan to see him frowning at the rifle in her hand. He was surprised enough at seeing it that he’d forgotten to call her Miss Stuart. But then, this was the first time she had run into him since she’d started arming herself.
“I had some trouble with ... actually... never mind what I’m doing with it,” she ended on a stubborn note.
But she was chagrined with herself for still trying to keep the peace between the two families, as she’d been in the habit of doing before the trouble started, when it was just as likely that Morgan wouldn’t get upset over what the Catlin hired hands had done to her if she mentioned it now. He would probably applaud them instead for the fright they’d given her. So she wouldn’t mention it.
But Morgan’s frown just got deeper as his eyes fixed on hers. “What kind of trouble?”
She didn’t answer him. She tried one more time to walk past him. And he didn’t move to block her this time. He grabbed her arm instead, which was much more effective in stopping her.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
If she didn’t know better, she might think he was displaying some unexpected concern over her welfare. But when his own family intended to come and set fire to the Double C at the end of the week, that just couldn’t be. Perhaps it simply annoyed him that the Catlins had her more worried than the MacKauleys.
At any rate, she didn’t owe him any answers, truthful or otherwise. “You have no right to question me, Morgan MacKauley,” she said stubbornly, and twisted around to free her arm. “Now let me—”
Her demand for release lodged in her throat, her movement having turned her enough so that she nearly faced the street, and was able to catch a flash of bright yellow out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head the rest of the way to see that Angel had come up behind her at some point and was casually leaning a shoulder against one of the posts that supported the saddle shop’s overhanging roof.
He didn’t give the impression that he was with her. In fact, he seemed no more than a casual observer of the interesting scene she and Morgan were enacting. But his casual pose was deceiving if you bothered to look closely. The thumb of his left hand was hooked through a belt loop, his mackintosh was open and tucked back, his right hand rested loosely on his hip—directly over his Colt .45.
He was about seven feet away, close enough to hear—close enough to aid. And Cassie was absolutely horrified, imagining what could happen in the next few seconds.
She jerked her eyes away from him, pretending she didn’t know him, hoping Morgan hadn’t even noticed his presence. No such luck. Morgan was looking directly at Angel now, having followed Cassie’s wide-eyed stare, and his frown hadn’t lightened up any.
“You want something, mister?”
Cassie winced upon hearing the aggression in Morgan’s tone. The trouble with MacKauleys was that their huge size gave them a feeling of superiority as well as invincibility. But a bullet had a way of cutting a man down to size, evening up the odds real quick. Angel would know that from experience, which was probably why he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t seem the least bit impressed by the bigger man, didn’t even seem like he would answer. And no response would be even worse. No man liked to be flat out ignored, and a MacKauley would take exception to that, since no one ever ignored them.
Cassie jumped into the prolonged silence to distract Morgan, saying the first thing that came to mind. “Tell your pa I’m not leaving until he agrees to speak to me.”
That got his eyes back on her instantly. “I told you he won’t—”
“I know what you said,” she cut in anxiously, “but you give him my message anyway, or it’s going to come down to the day of reckoning, Morgan. Will you set the torch to the house with me still in it?”
“Don’t be ... now listen here ... dammit, woman!” he ended, so flustered he couldn’t get any more words out.
Cassie was pretty flustered herself, not to mention appalled at her own daring. She hadn’t intended to call the MacKauleys’ bluff, if bluff it was. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to do it if she had given it any thought. But she hadn’t thought. She’d just wanted to get Morgan’s hostile attention off Angel—which wouldn’t have been necessary if Angel had kept his distance.
And unfortunately, her ploy gained only temporary results. If Angel had simply left during the time she had distracted Morgan, it would have been worth it. But he was still there, still watching them with those black-as-sin eyes, still provoking with his mere presence. And Morgan, embarrassed over stammeri
ng and at a loss as to how to deal with female stubbornness, figured he had a convenient outlet for his current frustration in the form of a nosy stranger. He hadn’t yet made the connection that this was the stranger he’d asked Cassie about.
“Either state your business, mister, or get lost. This here’s a private conversation.”
Angel still hadn’t moved from his relaxed position against the post, but this time he answered. “This here’s a public boardwalk— and I want to hear the lady say she’s not being bothered.”
Morgan puffed up indignantly over the very notion. “I ain’t bothering her.”
“Seems otherwise to me,” Angel replied in his slow drawl. “So I’ll hear her say it.”
“I’m not bothered!” Cassie snapped out with a warning look for Angel to mind his own business, then hissed quietly at Morgan, “Now let go of me and prove it. You’ve detained me long enough.”
Morgan had to drag his eyes away from Angel to look down at Cassie. He showed some surprise at finding his hand still wrapped around her arm and let go instantly. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Cassie just nodded stiffly and walked away. As upset as she was at the moment, considering she’d just taken a stand she hadn’t intended to take that could backfire on her by the end of the week, she didn’t care that she was leaving the two men alone, one arbitrary, one unpredictable. They were welcome to shoot each other, as far as she was concerned.
Chapter 5
Angel kept half of his attention on the woman as she hurried away, half on the man she’d called Morgan. She was walking so briskly she was almost running. Morgan also was staring after her—and swearing under his breath. Angel wasn’t sure about what he’d just witnessed, but he knew he didn’t like it. And it was past time he found out what was going on.
The tall Texan turned to him, finally recalling his presence, and was about to say something, but Angel didn’t have time to oblige him. “You’ll have to excuse me, but she’s about to take off with my horse.”
And damned if she wasn’t doing just that. He did some swearing himself as he realized he’d have to run to catch up to her carriage, which she’d already set in motion.
By the time he reached her, she was nearly out of town, he was out of breath and composure, and the first words out of his mouth weren’t meant to alleviate her alarm at finding him suddenly in the seat next to her. “Lady, that’s called horse-stealing!”
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew saucer-round as she whipped about to see the horses trailing behind the carriage. “Oh, God, I forgot... didn’t even notice... certainly didn’t mean to—”
She ended her disjointed explanation abruptly, her mouth snapping shut. And she was so slow in turning back around, she was wearing a completely different expression by the time she faced him, one he recognized too well from their previous encounter.
“Don’t start—” He tried to warn off the anticipated diatribe, but she was already cutting into his attempt.
“What the hell were you trying to do back there? Don’t you know how to deal with men without getting their pride all bent out of shape?”
“I reckon not.”
Cassie wasn’t expecting that answer, or to see him sit back and cross his arms over his chest, as if daring her to continue upbraiding him. It took some of the heat out of her and she turned to face the road.
“Then you must leave bodies behind wherever you go,” she said with quiet contempt.
“That’s been known to happen.”
She had no rejoinder for that. They could have been speaking of the weather instead of his killing people for all the emotion he gave the subject. She quite honestly didn’t know how to deal with someone like him, and didn’t care to try anymore.
He had to go, today—this very minute. And with that thought settled firmly, she stopped the carriage to tell him so. But he sat forward when she pulled up on the reins, and when she turned toward him it was to find him no more than inches away, so close she had to tilt her head back to see his face, and she got ensnared by those coal-black eyes, not so frightening now, merely curious, but still mesmerizing.
“What’d you stop for?”
Why had she stopped? She had no idea ... and then she did. She gasped, and moved as far back into her corner of the seat as she could get. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, why every thought she’d had had gone right out of her head. Or why she’d felt strange and breathless, as if she were scared witless. But she hadn’t been scared, not then. And Angel wasn’t exactly frightening her now with his bemused look.
She was forced to glance away just to get her thoughts back to the matter at hand and recall her determination. And it came quickly enough as long as she wasn’t looking at him. So she decided to continue facing forward to say what needed saying—to be sure it got said.
“I don’t like what happened back there. Morgan I could handle. You and Morgan I couldn’t. I even took a stand I wouldn’t have just to get his attention off you before you drew him into a gunfight.”
“I wouldn’t have done that,” Angel replied with a cold edge to his tone. “I don’t pick fights, ‘cause there wouldn’t be a damn thing fair about it. Outside of a fight, however, I can draw without shooting, and most folks shut their mouths and go away.”
“Most folks aren’t MacKauleys, which Morgan happens to be just one in a bunch of, and they’re all hotheaded men. Their tempers snap, and they’ve been known to charge right into a man like a riled bull. Morgan might not have noticed you drawing your gun, and you’d have had to shoot him to stop him, or ended up out in the street getting your face rearranged. But that’s done and over, with thankfully no one dead.”
“Exactly, so—”
“I’m not finished,” she cut in tersely, keeping her eyes away from him, uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t doing the same. “I was still so upset by what could have happened that I left town without completing my errands, the last being to—well, you might as well know. I’m going to send a telegram to Lewis Pickens to inform him that my problem has been solved and I no longer need his help—or yours. I’m going back to town to do that right now.”
“Go ahead,” was all he said.
Cassie visibly slumped in her relief. She had expected an argument, expected she’d have to lie through her teeth to convince him she had no trouble that he could help with, especially after what he had witnessed of her confrontation with Morgan. Perhaps he was glad to be out of it. After all, he hadn’t seemed overjoyed that morning that she and her difficulty happened to be the favor that would clear his debt.
She turned to him now with a tentative smile that died as soon as she saw the frown he had fixed on her. Had she misunderstood his response? Maybe a few lies would be necessary after all.
“I really don’t have the same problem I did six weeks ago when I first asked for help. If I wasn’t so shaken up by your arrival this morning, I would have thought to tell you that. With so much time passed, tempers have cooled, and the situation is so minor now it isn’t even worth mentioning.”
He sat back again in that lazy crossed-arm pose and drawled, “Now I’m plumb curious, so why don’t you mention it anyway?”
She wasn’t about to go into it for him, since she might inadvertently say something that could suggest his help was still needed. “It’s just a matter of a few people being annoyed with me.”
“How many?”
She hedged. “There are two separate families.”
“How many?”
His persistence made her eyes narrow and she snapped impatiently, “I never bothered to count.”
“That many?”
Was that humor in his tone? She wasn’t sure, but this was no laughing matter, not to her. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt if he thought it was.
So she waved a dismissive hand and assured him, “It’s nothing serious. The reason I would still have welcomed Mr. Pickens’s help was I would have liked to get things back to the way they were before I got everyone??
?annoyed at me. I was hoping I could still stay here until spring, as I’d intended. But now I’ll just stay until my papa returns, and that isn’t going to be a problem.”
He said nothing to that, just stared at her patiently as if waiting for her to continue—as if he knew there had to be more to it than that. Well, too bad. She’d said all she was going to on that subject.
“It was kind of you to offer to help, but there’s nothing to help with now. I’m not in any, well... danger—never was, actually, and the telegram I’m sending to Mr. Pickens will release you from any obligation you might feel.”
“Is that so?”
“Certainly. Maybe he’ll even consider your debt paid, even though you didn’t have to do anything. After all, you came. You were able and willing to help—damned persistent about it, actually,” she added in a low-voiced grumble. “You did as he asked, so what more is there—”
“He won’t see it that way any more’n I do,” Angel cut in dryly. “But since there’s ‘no problem,’ you won’t mind if I stick around for a few days and ask some questions, will you?”
Cassie stiffened and demanded sharply, “Now why would you do that?”
“Because you don’t lie very well, lady.”
She stared at him for a long moment, seeing it in his eyes, in his faintly scornful look, that he hadn’t believed a single word she’d said. She let out a sigh, saying ruefully, “I know. But most folks don’t notice.”
“Maybe because you’re so sweet-faced wholesome, they can’t imagine you telling anything but the truth.”
Had she just been insulted or complimented? And how was it that he had known, without a doubt, that she wasn’t being honest, when it was only people who knew her really well who usually had that ability?
She tried one last time. “You still can’t help. What happened with Morgan just proves it. You get people riled, and I need them pacified.”
He slowly shook his head at her. “I’m not about to take your word for it, lady, not after that crock of bullshit you just handed me. I’ll decide for myself whether I can help. But until I hear what your problem is, and the truth this time, I’m staying right on your boot heels, and I doubt you’ll enjoy that.”