The Rebel. Jan Hudson

clean the room.

      She ought to call somebody—but who? She didn’t want her parents to worry about her, and her older brothers had families and didn’t need to come charging to her rescue. That left Sam, her baby brother. Sam Outlaw, the Texas Ranger. Texas Rangers could handle anything.

      It took three tries before she managed to correctly dial Sam’s number—and four rings before he answered.

      “Oh, Sam. Thank God you’re home.”

      “Belle? Is that you? Where the hell else would I be? Do you know what time it is?”

      “I give up.”

      “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

      “Sorry, Sam. Sorry. I need help. Come get me.”

      “Belle, have you been drinking? Where are you?”

      “Only coffee. I don’t know. A motel somewhere in New Mexico, I think. Or maybe I made it to Texas. I tried.”

      “Where’s Matt?”

      “Matt who?”

      “Matt, your husband.”

      “I have no husband,” Belle said. “Come get me, Sam. I think I’m dying.”

      “Belle, hon—”

      The phone went dead. She let it drop, fell back on the bed and wrapped the spread around her like swaddling.

      “GABE, GABE, WAKE UP!”

      Gabe Burrell opened one eye. Where was he? Oh, yeah, Sam’s lake house. “It can’t be time to get up yet, Sam. I just got to sleep.”

      “Listen, we’ll have to cancel our fishing trip. I think my sister’s sick and I have to get to her pronto.”

      “What’s wrong?”

      “Damned if I know. She was talking crazy. But if Belle asked for help it has to be bad.”

      Gabe threw back the covers and grabbed his pants. “I’ll go with you.”

      “I was hoping you’d say that. I traced the number to a little motel in a place that’s a grease spot on the map near Dalhart in the panhandle, but now the phones are out in that area. I think there’s a municipal airport nearby.”

      “Make us some coffee while I check out the weather conditions to see what we can fly.”

      BELLE FOUGHT TO OPEN her eyes, but they didn’t want to cooperate. Everything was bright and blinding white, and she felt as if she were floating. Was she in heaven?

      Shielding her eyes from the dazzling brightness, she made out the silhouette of a man. His hair was spun gold and lit by a bright halo.

      “Who—who are you?” she croaked. Her tongue was thick, and her mouth felt packed with cotton batting.

      “I’m Gabe Burrell.”

      “Gabriel? I thought St. Peter was in charge here. Where’s your horn?” He chuckled. “My horn? I don’t have a horn, darlin’. Sorry.”

      “Gotta have a horn.”

      “Years ago I had a saxophone but it’s long gone.”

      “No sax. A trumpet. Blow, Gabriel, blow.”

      He chuckled again, and she was going to ask what was funny, but she was too tired.

      When she opened her eyes again, the angel was gone and Sam was sitting beside her.

      “Sam?”

      “In the flesh.”

      “Aren’t we in heaven anymore?”

      “No, Ding-dong, we’re in the hospital. You’ve been sick. Pneumonia. You’ve been pretty much out of it for three days. How are you feeling?”

      “Like an elephant’s sitting on my chest. Three days?”

      “Yep. You’ve been a mighty sick little gal. If Gabe Burrell hadn’t flown me here, we might have lost you.”

      “Gabriel flew you here?”

      “Yes.”

      “I didn’t know he could take passengers. Did he find his horn?”

      “What horn? Belle, honey, you’re talking a little crazy. Gabe doesn’t have a horn that I know about. And he flew me here in a helicopter.”

      “I guess angels don’t use their wings anymore. They’ve gone high tech.”

      Sam laughed. “What in the world are you talking about? Gabe’s no angel. Trust me on that.”

      “Are you sure?” Belle asked, but before she heard Sam’s answer, she slipped away once more.

      Belle didn’t see her brother again until she was sitting up having breakfast. Nurse Ratched—or her clone—had checked her IV, cranked up the bed and taken the cover off some vile-looking mush.

      “Eat,” Nurse Ratched had said before she sailed out of the room.

      Belle sneered at the gray glop on her plate. “She’s got to be kidding.”

      “Who?” Sam said.

      “Nurse Ratched. The warden who was just in here.”

      “I thought her name was Vivian Johnson. What was she kidding about?”

      “Eating this stuff.”

      “You must be feeling better,” said a blond man who followed Sam into the room.

      “As compared to what?”

      The man chuckled. Belle recognized the sound. “Gabriel? I thought I dreamed you.”

      “Gabe, just plain Gabe. Would you rather have a hamburger?”

      “No, but I’d kill for a nice, thick milk shake.”

      “What flavor?”

      “Strawberry.”

      “I’ll be right back,” Gabe said.

      After he left, Belle said, “Who’s he?”

      “An old friend of mine. He’s my insurance agent and fishing buddy. Now that you’re back from the dead, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Matt? Last I heard after you quit the FBI and married him last Christmas, the two of you had settled down on his ranch in Colorado and were happy as a pair of beetles in dung.”

      “We were—or at least I thought we were until he came in one day and announced that he’d been seeing his old girlfriend again.”

      Sam looked shocked. “His old girlfriend? Matt?”

      “You aren’t any more surprised than I was. They grew up together and were high-school sweethearts. Seems she came back to town after her marriage soured, and she and Matt got together. The ink wasn’t even dry on our marriage license when she cried on his shoulder and one thing led to another. Now they’re in love, and she’s pregnant.”

      “The son of a bitch!”

      “My sentiments exactly,” Belle said.

      “He can’t do that to my sister! I’m going to Colorado and whip that bastard’s ass.”

      Belle rolled her eyes. “Simmer down. You’re not going anywhere. If I meant so little to him then I’m glad to be rid of him. We’ve already filed for divorce, and it should be final in a couple of weeks, but I was too sick of Colorado to stick around any longer. And may warts grow on my nose and my ears fall off before I go calf-eyed over a man again.”

      Gabriel strolled in, grinning and bearing a tall plastic cup. “At your service, ma’am. You like one straw or two?”

      “Just one. Thanks.”

      He