Table Of ContentLinda Lael Miller
WANTON ANGEL
An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the
Americas, New York, NY 10020
SimonandSchuster
This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents relating to nonhistorical figures 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.
Copyright © 1987 by Linda Lael Miller
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 978-1-4516-1114-4
First Pocket Books printing July 1987
10 9 8 7 6
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Illustration by Matthew Frey—Wood Ronsaville Harlin Inc.
Manufactured in the United States of America
For Irene Goodman, my agent and my friend.
Thank you for sharing this dream with me,
and for helping to make it come true.
Contents
Part One Angel In Disgrace
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Two Angel Of Vengeance
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part Three Angel Ensnared
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Part Four Angel Of Light
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Dear Readers, Old and New, It is with joy that I give you one of the novels
written earlier in my career. Some of you have read it, and will feel as though
you’re meeting old friends; to others, it will offer a completely new reading
experience.
Either way, this tale is a gift of my heart.
The characters in this and all of my books are the kind of people I truly
admire, and try to emulate. They are smart, funny, brave, and persistent. The
women are strong, and while they love their men, they have goals of their own,
and they are independent, sometimes to a fault. More than anything else, these
stories are about people meeting challenges and discovering the hidden qualities
and resources within themselves.
We all have to do that.
We are blessed—and cursed—to live in uncertain times.
Let us go forward, bravely, with our dearest ideals firmly in mind. They’re all
we have—and all we need.
May you be blessed,
Linda Lael Miller
BOOKS BY LINDA LAEL MILLER
Banner O’Brien Corbin’s Fancy Memory’s Embrace My Darling Melissa
Angelfire
Desire and Destiny Fletcher’s Woman Lauralee
Moonfire
Wanton Angel Willow
Princess Annie The Legacy Taming Charlotte Yankee Wife Daniel’s Bride Lily
and the Major Emma and the Outlaw Caroline and the Raider Pirates
Knights
My Outlaw
The Vow
Two Brothers Springwater Springwater Seasons series: Rachel
Savannah
Miranda
Jessica
A Springwater Christmas One Wish
The Women of Primrose Creek series: Bridget
Christy
Skye
Megan
Courting Susannah Springwater Wedding My Lady Beloved (writing as Lael St.
James) My Lady Wayward (writing as Lael St. James) High Country Bride
Shotgun Bride Secondhand Bride The Last Chance Café Don’t Look Now Never
Look Back One Last Look
PROLOGUE
Northridge, Washington Territory April 1886
THE CHILD RAN, scrambling, wild dark hair tumbling over a tear-streaked face,
past one tar-paper shack after another, captive sobs burning in her throat.
Reaching the farthest shanty, the one closest to the raging green river, she
stumbled over the shoe-scuffed wooden crate that served as a stoop and hurled
herself into the tiny, dimly lit room beyond.
“Gran!” she wept, in fury and in pain.
The shanty had but one room, twelve feet square, and there was no window to
let in the spring sunlight. Gran stood at the cookstove sandwiched in between a
narrow bed and an even narrower cot, an iron-gray tendril escaping an otherwise
severe hairstyle at the nape of her neck.
The steam whistle in the smelter works up on the hill rose over the thunderous
din to tell the time: twelve noon and too soon by three hours for Bonnie
Fitzpatrick to be back from school.
Gran was a gentle woman, but she brooked no nonsense and now her lips
thinned. “What is it, child, that sends you runnin’ home before lessons is
through, and lookin’ as though the Devil himself were right behind you?” The
old woman paused to cross herself with the quick deftness of the very devout.
Bonnie swallowed, suddenly ashamed. The Mackerson twins had triumphed,
not by their torment, but by making her run away. Now she’d be in trouble right
and proper, not only with her teacher, but with Gran and maybe Da, too, when
he got home from his shift up at the smelter. And, on top of that, she’d have to
go back and face those pampered hellions, the daughters of the smelter’s resident
manager, with them knowing they’d bested her.
“Well?” Gran demanded, not unkindly but not charitably, either. With a sigh,
she left her wooden spoon in the soup kettle and sat down on the edge of the
