Authors: Robin Gideon
Jedediah pointed out that the corpse had three bullet holes in his chest of exactly the same caliber as the gun
currently in his own holster. This argument was conven
iently and self-righteously ignored by the town’s leaders.
Rather than getting into a gunfight when he was dras
tically outnumbered and outgunned, Jedediah returned to
Whitetail Creek and hired an attorney, Garrett Randolph, to see what he could do to right the wrong.
Several snappy letters from Garrett to the town leaders in Cold Ridge convinced them that they would be ahead finan
cially if they simply did the legal, proper thing and paid
Jedediah Bragg the money owed him. The sheriff’s letter accompanying the bank draft for one thousand dollars
strongly suggested that neither Jedediah Bragg nor Garrett
Randolph be seen in Cold Ridge in the near future.
Garrett picked up the draft. He could either ride into town and deposit it into his own account, holding the
money in escrow until he saw Jedediah next, or he could
ride to the Bragg cabin and deliver it in person.
There was no question of what he would do. He needed an excuse to see Pamela, and delivering the bank draft would do nicely.
As Juan knocked again on his bedroom door, Garrett groaned with impatience. Delays were intolerable now that he knew his destination: Pamela.
“There’s a young woman here to see you, sir.” Juan stuck his head inside the room.
“Who?” Garrett asked excitedly, thinking his luck might
be getting better and Pamela had come to him.
“Miss Darwell, sir. She said it was very important she
speak to you privately. She’s waiting for you in the library.”
Garrett’s training as a lawyer helped him keep his disappointment from showing, but as soon as Juan had closed
the door, he shook his head angrily. He didn’t want to deal
with Angie Darwell now.
Angie, wearing an amazingly low-cut gown inappropriate
for morning wear, was lounging on the sofa when he ar
rived in the library. Her pose, the position she intended
to be “caught” in when Garrett arrived, was one of indolent
boredom and smoldering sensuality. She had the look of
a woman who had either spent the last few hours making
love or who intended to spend the next few hours in that
pursuit.
“You’ve kept me waiting,” she pouted. “I’ll have you know, there aren’t many men who dare do that without
facing my wrath.”
Garrett smiled. As annoying as Angie was, she was a one-
of-a-kind woman.
“Not many men?” Garrett asked with a faintly mocking
arched brow. “I’m not in a category by myself?”
“Darling Garrett, you know I like to keep my options
open. It’s good business, and if Father’s taught me anything,
it’s that business always comes first,” Angie said with abso
lute honesty. Her blue gaze was slowly peeling off Garrett’s
clothes. When he decided to sit in the wing-backed chair
instead of beside her on the sofa, she pouted in annoyance.
“What did you come to see me for, Angie? You obviously
want something.”
“Something? No, darling, I want
someone.
You, for instance.” She smiled and nibbled on her lower lip, favoring
him with a practiced look combining sensuality and little-
girl innocence. “But you’ve known that all along, haven’t
you?”
“Angie, I’ve a very busy day ahead of me, and I really
haven’t got time for this. Please, can we get to the point
of your coming here?”
She drew a knee up and hugged it to her chest, allowing her other leg to remain stretched out. Her gown was pulled
up, displaying a stocking-sheathed leg to well above the
knee.
Garrett looked at her display, and once again, only his legal training prevented his thoughts from showing in his expres
sion. Angie Darwell was definitely beautiful, and her skill in the
sensual realm could not be denied. If Garrett hadn’t spent
the early morning hours in Pamela’s arms, he would have been mightily tempted to taste her blatant offering. But as it was,
the memory of Pamela fresh and clear in his consciousness,
Angie appeared to be an attractive trollop, much too open
about what it was she wanted to be truly seductive. The more he looked at her, the less tempted he was.
“Nobody can be
that
busy, darling,” Angie purred.
“Haven’t you time to take a little nourishment?”
Garrett smiled at that. “Nourishment? What an interest
ing way to put it.”
“And I am the interesting woman to give you that nour
ishment.” Angie slid just a little lower on the sofa, just
enough to make the hem of her gown rise higher still to
reveal the top of her stocking, and an inch of creamy white
flesh between that and the bottom of her drawers. “But
then, you already know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Angie, I do,” Garrett said, not denying truths he
couldn’t rationally dispute. “I also know that you want something more than just…nourishment. Now, once
again, I’m very busy, so unless you get to the point of
your visit, I’ll have to leave you to your own devices.”
Angie laughed softly. “I’ve been left to my own devices before, my darling, and I’ve managed to have an abso
lutely wonderful time. Actually, it’s a guaranteed wonder
ful time. Not quite the same as having a good man with
me, but wonderful nevertheless.”
Her openness shocked even Garrett, who’d believed Angie
was no longer capable of shocking him.
“As long as you’re being such a prig about this,” she
continued, “I suppose I must go along with it—for now.
I’m here to discuss a union with you.”
“Marriage?”
“Call it what you want. You’re going to be an important
man in the territory, and I want to be there at your side
when you become territorial governor.”
“We’ve already talked about this, Angie, and you know
what my answer is.”
“Garrett darling, you’ll find that I can be a wonderful
companion, or I can be an enemy with the power to
keep you from office.” Angie’s expression evolved from
coy seduction to steely resolve. “Think about that. You
can’t make governor without me, and I can’t live in the
governor’s mansion without you. It’s a good deal for both
of us.”
“You’re assuming I want the governorship that much, Angie. You’re also assuming that I can’t get the votes with
out your help. You could be wrong on both counts.”
Angie got up from the sofa. She would not get to sample
Garrett’s sensual skills immediately, but she was not
defeated. This was merely a minor setback, one that would
be righted later on, after Garrett realized the truth of her offer.
She went to him and placed her hands on the arms of his chair. She bent low, bringing her face close to his,
giving him an unimpeded view down the bodice of her
gown.
“Just think about it, Garrett,” she said, and then kissed his cheek when he turned his mouth away from her.
She was out of the library moments later, leaving him
smiling and shaking his head. Angie Darwell was the most
audacious woman ever to walk the planet. He was certain of it. And though he couldn’t hate her with the vehemence
he felt she deserved, neither could he allow himself to
touch her again. Now that he’d touched Pamela, Angie looked
pale, frail, and only remotely feminine by comparison.
He went to his bedroom, deciding to change clothes for
his ride to the Bragg ranch. He wanted to present just the
right appearance, for with any luck at all, Jedediah
wouldn’t be home and he’d have Pamela all to himself. He
hoped Pamela would not make the connection between Garrett
Randolph and the Midnight Phantom.
* * * *
Though Angie was fanning herself constantly, she was still perspiring. Perspiring was such a low-class thing to
do, even if it was hot and all of this had happened because
she’d tried to talk reasonably to Garrett about a perfectly acceptable arrangement.
He’d refused her once again.
Angie gritted her teeth in anger as she thought about the
open invitation for sex she’d given him and how he’d turned her
down. Getting turned down was not something Angie was accustomed to, and it infuriated her. More annoying than an
ticipating sexual satisfaction with Garrett and not getting it was his attitude of indifference toward the office of territorial governor.
Angie thought with certainty, I
can stonewall him politi
cally, or I can buy him the office.
How could she make Garrett realize he needed her?
She wanted all the privileges that went along with being the wife of the territorial governor. She lusted for them
and for power with even greater ardor than she lusted for Garrett’s body. Garrett was great in bed. Positively heaven. But sex only went so far. It wasn’t as good as buying new
gowns or having round-the-clock servants to tend to her every whim.
Somehow, some way, Angie had to convince Garrett that
his life and his ambitions would be destroyed unless he took her as his wife.
Maybe she could get Richard to assist her. Her brother
was essentially very stupid, Angie decided, and she had al
ways been able to get him to do whatever she wanted.
She smiled and leaned back in the carriage, stifling an urge to yell at the coachman. She would be home soon enough, and then she could strip off all her clothes, take
a cool bath, and sip mint juleps until she no longer minded
the heat of the day.
She’d find an answer to getting Garrett Randolph under
her control. Angie was certain of it.
Chapter Eleven
Garrett pulled his mount, a long-legged white gelding
that ran like the wind, to a halt at the edge of the tree line. Actually, he was very near the spot where, in the persona
of the Midnight Phantom, he had said good-bye to Pamela Bragg on the previous day before dawn.
He wanted to give both his horse and himself a breather
so he’d look professional when he arrived at the Bragg cabin. After all, no attorney rode at a full gallop just to deliver a bank draft to a bounty hunter.
“Easy, boy,” Garrett said, patting the gelding’s neck as the powerful young animal pranced beneath him. The
horse loved to run, and Garrett had given him free rein. So
easily recognized by its size and its unusual white coat, the gelding could not be ridden by the Midnight Phantom.
The cabin was a hundred yards away, one of any num
ber of dwellings in the area, all built pretty much the same.
A single large room cordoned off into smaller rooms by
walls that didn’t reach the ceiling, which allowed the heat
to move from room to room in the winter, or more simply
by blankets hanging from strategically placed ropes.
Suddenly, Garrett felt like a teenager again, and the sen
sation brought a boyish smile to his lips. How long had it been since he’d felt giddy about a woman? That was
how Pamela made him feel. She didn’t know it, of course.
In fact, as attorney Garrett Randolph, he had had very little
association with Pamela, but as the Midnight Phantom, they had become closer than he’d ever dreamed possible.
Could he ever tell her that he was the Midnight Phantom?
The question had plagued him since he’d last left her.
For this meeting, Garrett had dressed carefully, choosing
one of his finer charcoal-gray suits, a simple white shirt,
shiny black boots polished just that morning by Juan to a
mirror finish, and a gray Stetson with a rattlesnake leather
hatband. Gone were the cape and mask, the black clothing
from head to toe, the low-slung Colt at his hips. Gone,
too, would be the flinty tone of voice so difficult to main
tain, especially with Pamela when his thoughts and emotions
were anything but hard edged.
“Come on, boy,” Garrett said, tapping his heels against
his horse’s ribs. “Let’s go find out what the Fates have in
store for us.”
He rode slowly toward the house, taking his time so
that he would be noticed long before he actually got there.
A leisurely approach was proper out here, where thieves
and desperadoes killed without reason, possessing not a
drop of compassion. He wanted to give Pamela a good long
look at him so she would not feel threatened.
Surprisingly, he was quite close to the cabin before she
stepped out onto the dusty porch. Garrett’s heart did a crazy
little flip at the sight of her. Her unbound hair cascaded
over her shoulders in a profusion of silken blonde waves. S
he filled out a blue cotton shirt, washed countless times,
and faded blue denim trousers that displayed the now-fa
miliar curves of her hips. The sight of her awoke Garrett’s slumbering penis.
Garrett was already lost in her presence.
“Hello,” he said, remaining on his gelding, waiting,
in the custom of the area, to be asked to dismount.
Pamela looked at him, suspicion shining strong and clear
in her pale-green eyes. “Hello,” she said, as noncommittally as possible. “There a reason you’re here?” She didn’t
much care for lawyers, especially rich ones, and it showed in her tone.
Garrett suppressed a grin. Clearly, she didn’t recognize him as the Midnight Phantom, for which he was thankful.
But her contempt for the wealthy was evident, as was her
distrust of him.
“I’ve come to see your brother.” Then, in an effort to
get into Pamela’s good graces, he said, “I’ve got some money
for him.”
Pamela continued to look at Garrett as though trying to
judge whether or not he was an immediate threat. Finally she turned away, and only then did he see that she’d been
holding a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun just behind
her leg, ready to use it at a moment’s notice.
“Come on in,” she said over her shoulder, apparently
as friendly as she intended to be. “I was just making a
cup of coffee for myself. You can have a cup if you want.”
Garrett dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post then stepped onto the porch and into the cabin. It
was as stark and austere as Garrett remembered it. He had an urge to take Pamela out of here and put her in a house where
there were the comforts he knew and took for granted.
“It’s not the Randolph ranch, but it suits Jedediah and
me,” Pamela said, moving over to the stove.
Garrett wasn’t certain what to say to this sarcastic re
mark. He pulled out one of two chairs at the rectangular
table and sat down, watching her back, wondering what
she’d really think of him if she knew who his alter ego
was.
She placed an enameled tin cup on the table then filled
it. The rich aroma was pleasing to Garrett, and he suspected
that Pamela was a good cook.
Stop thinking that way!
he chided himself.
Next you’ll
be wondering if she’ll be a good mother to your children.
“What are you looking at?” Pamela asked, her green eyes
narrowing.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett said sheepishly, unaware of how he’d
been looking at her. “I was just thinking of something.”
“I’ll bet you were,” she shot back contemptuously.
Garrett leaned back in his chair, giving Pamela as much
scrutiny as she’d given him.
“Why do you get so angry with me?” he asked. “I
haven’t done anything or said anything to displease you.
At least, nothing that I can think of. But every time I’ve
seen you, you’ve made no effort at all to hide the fact that
you dislike me intensely.”
Pamela was clearly shocked by his bluntness, and it took her a
moment to compose herself. Then she shrugged
, oblivious of how the gesture made her breasts move beneath the overwashed cotton shirt.
“It’s nothing against you personally,” she said finally.
“I just don’t like rich people. They’re always looking down
their noses at Jedediah and me. They cause all sorts of
problems and do whatever they please, and the law doesn’t
touch them. It’s nothing personal, but I think you and rich pe
ople like you simply cause more trouble than a person’s
worth.”
“What would happen if you became rich? Would you hate yourself then?”
Pamela laughed, an easy, amused laugh that pleased Garrett
enormously. Her rare laughter was a special pleasure he’d
learned to savor because it was so delightfully spontaneous.
“Me? Now how would I get rich? No, that’s not likely at all.” She laughed again, poured a cup of coffee for herself, and then sat down at the table and faced Garrett. “Mr. Randolph, you are a funny man.”
“Call me Garrett. We’ve been on a first-name basis before.”
He looked at Pamela, wondering what she really thought of him. Did she hate him, or was it just anger toward wealthy people coming out in her? What if she never got over her prejudice against successful people?
Would he always have to be the Midnight Phantom, just so
he could be with Pamela without her resenting him? What if
she thought of him for all time as a “funny man,” someone
not to be taken seriously?
“Jedediah will be back soon if that’s what you’re won
dering,” Pamela said. “He returned from a trip just a little while ago and headed off to the stream to clean up. He
wants to go into town.” Pamela shook her head slowly, a fragment of a smile tickling her mouth. “He thinks I don’t
know about the gal he’s got there. He can’t hide anything from me.”
“But can you hide what you do from him?”
Garrett watched Pamela’s cheeks color slightly. There was
anger, fresh and new and spiteful, shining in her eyes as she looked at him. “I don’t see as how that’s any of your business, Mr. Lawyer.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Her mouth twisted into a sneer. “You lawyers mean something by everything.”
He was not a man given to apologizing needlessly or insincerely, but he said, “I am sorry, Pamela. I didn’t mean
to offend you, and I hope you believe me when I say that.”
She looked at him in silence, weighing the truth and
sincerity of his words. Finally, very slowly, the anger faded
from her eyes. “Apology accepted, Garrett. I’ve had plenty of trouble with rich folks in the past. I just wanted you to
know from the very beginning that you weren’t going to come here to my house and start telling me what to do.”
“I wouldn’t do that anywhere, certainly not in your own
home.” Garrett sipped his coffee. It was delicious, though it didn’t please him nearly as much as the fact that Pamela’s attitude toward him had taken a marked turn toward the positive. “There’s a dance coming up in Whitetail Creek,” he commented.
“There’s always some dance or other coming up in Whitetail Creek,” she replied caustically. Her anger obviously wasn’t ever far from the surface.
“Yes, it seems so. Just the same, there’s a special dance
coming up the sixteenth.” Garrett looked away briefly, thinking himself a silly fool for feeling so nervous.
“Would you like to go to the dance with me? I would be
honored if you would.”
Before Pamela could respond, a shout came from outside,
followed immediately by the pounding of hooves.
“Garrett! Garrett, is that you?” Jedediah called out.
Randolph rose from his chair and went to the open doorway. Jedediah was just reining his horse to a dusty
halt. His hair was wet, his face freshly shaven, his clothes
clean.
“Hello, Jedediah,” Garrett said.
They clasped hands, and the smile Jedediah gave him
was exuberant.
“It’s good to see you again. I’ve been on the hunt for
the past three weeks.”
“Catch who you were looking for?”
“Yep. They won’t be robbing no more banks, neither.”
Jedediah stepped into the cabin and kissed his sister on
the cheek. “Thanks for keeping my friend company while
I was gone,” he said to her.
“He wasn’t much trouble,” Pamela said. She rose and
walked through the kitchen area toward the back of the
cabin. “Good to see you again, Garrett,” she said before
disappearing.