Angel Creek Read online

  LOOK FOR THESE HEART-POUNDING

  NOVELS OF ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  FROM BESTSELUNG AUTHOR

  LINDA HOWARD

  She’s hunting for a mate—and there’s

  no more playing it safe.

  OPEN SEASON

  Handsome, rich, sexy, deadly. . . .

  MR. PERFECT

  . . . and don’t miss

  A LADY OF THE WEST

  ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN

  KILL AND TELL

  NOW YOU SEE HER

  SON OF THE MORNING

  SHADES OF TWILIGHT

  AFTER THE NIGHT

  DREAM MAN

  HEART OF FIRE

  THE TOUCH OF FIRE

  All available from Pocket Books

  “[ANGEL CREEK IS] FILLED WITH COMPELLING

  CHARACTERS, SENSUOUS ROMANCE, AND

  LOADS OF ACTION.”

  —AFFAIRE DE COEUR

  PRAISE FOR THE SENSATIONAL NOVELS OF

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  LINDA HOWARD

  KILL AND TELL

  “Linda Howard meshes hot sex, emotional impact, and gripping tension in this perfect example of what romantic suspense ought to be.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  OPEN SEASON

  “A perfect mystery for a late summer weekend. It’s part romance with a dollop of suspense.”

  —The Globe & Mail (Toronto)

  MR. PERFECT

  “A frolicsome mystery . . . Jaine Bright lives up to her name: she’s as bright—and explosive—as a firecracker.”

  —People

  ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN

  “A high-suspense romance. . . . Howard’s trademark darkly sensual style and intense, layered plot will delight her fans.”

  —Booklist

  NOW YOU SEE HER

  “Steamy romance morphs into murder mystery. . . .”

  —People

  “An eerie, passionate, and thrilling tale. . . .”

  —Romantic Times

  Books by Linda Howard

  A Lady of the West

  Angel Creek

  The Touch of Fire

  Heart of Fire

  Dream Man

  After the Night

  Shades of Twilight

  Son of the Morning

  Kill and Tell

  Now You See Her

  All the Queen’s Men

  Mr. Perfect

  Strangers in the Night

  Open Season

  Dream Man

  Published by Pocket Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  A Pocket Star Book published by

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Copyright © 1991 by Linda Howington

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN 13: 978-0-671-01976-1

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4391-3943-1

  ISBN 10: 0-671-01976-7

  First Pocket Books printing November 1991

  20 19

  POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered

  trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Cover design by Jae Song

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  ANGEL

  CREEK

  1

  LUCAS COCHRAN HAD BEEN BACK IN TOWN FOR ALMOST a month, but it still amazed him how much the little town of Prosper had lived up to its name. It would never be anything more than a small town, but it was neat and bustling. A man could tell a lot about a place just by looking at the people on the streets, and by that standard Prosper was quiet, steady, and—well—prosperous. A boomtown might be more exciting than a town like Prosper, and people could make a lot of money in such places, but mining towns tended to die as soon as the ore played out.

  Prosper, on the other hand, had started out as a single building serving triple duty as general store, bar, and livery for the few settlers around. Lucas could remember when the site Prosper now occupied had been nothing but bare ground and the only white men for miles had been on the Double C. The gold rush in 1858 had changed all that, bringing thousands of men into the Colorado mountains in search of instant wealth; no gold had been found around Prosper, but a few people had seen the land and stayed, starting small ranches. More people had meant a larger demand for goods. The lone general store/bar/livery soon had another building standing beside it, and the tiny settlement that would one day become Prosper, Colorado, was born.

  Lucas had seen a lot of boom towns, not just in Colorado, and they were all very similar in their frenzied pace, as muddy streets swarmed with miners and those looking to separate the miners from their gold: gamblers, saloon owners, whores, and claim-jumpers. He was glad that Prosper hadn’t been blessed—or cursed, depending on your point of view—by either gold or silver. Being what it was, it would still be there when most of the boomtowns were nothing but weathered skeletons.

  It was a sturdy little town, a good place to raise a family, as evidenced by the three hundred and twenty-eight souls who lived there. All of the businesses were located on the long center street, around which nine streets of residences had arranged themselves. Most of the houses were small and simple, but some of the people, like banker Wilson Millican, had already possessed money before settling in Prosper. Their houses wouldn’t have looked out of place in Denver or even in the larger cities back East.

  Prosper had only one saloon and no whorehouses, though it was well known among the men in town (and the women, although the men didn’t know it) that the two saloon girls would take care of any extra itches they happened to have, for a price. There was a church on the north end of town, and a school for the youngsters. Prosper had a bank, two hotels, three restaurants (counting the two in the hotels), a general store, two livery stables, a dry goods store, a barber shop, a cobbler, a blacksmith, and even a hat shop for the ladies. The stage came through once a week.

  The entire town was there only because the Cochran family had carved the big Double C spread out of nothing, fighting the Comanche and Arapaho, paying for the land with Cochran blood. Lucas had been the first Cochran born there, and now he was the only one left; he had buried his two brothers and his mother back during the Indian wars, and his father had died the month before. Other ranchers had moved in, but the Cochrans had been the first, and had bought the security the town now enjoyed with Cochran lives. Everyone who had been in town for long knew that Prosper’s backbone wasn’t the long center street, but the line of graves in the family burial plot on the Double C.

  Lucas’s bootheels thudded on the sidewalk as he walked toward the general store. A cold wind