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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.