The Rebel

“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 peeled the paper off the straw, stuck it into the cup and handed her the milk shake. She sucked up pure ambrosia. “Thanks. This is heavenly.”

He looked pleased with himself. Now that she had a chance to examine him more closely, Belle could see that Sam’s friend was far from angelic. He was devilishly handsome and his grin was straight from Old Scratch himself. Good thing she’d sworn off men or she might have been totally captivated by Gabriel. Gabe. She had to remember that—just plain Gabe.

“Gabe,” Belle said, “thanks for flying Sam here. I understand that I might not be around if you two hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t even sure where I was.”

“Glad to do it. It was good that you stopped when you did. There was a nasty storm going on.”

“I remember the storm,” she said, “but not much else after that. Sam, when can I get out of this place?”

“You’ll have to ask your doctor, but I wouldn’t count on it being for a while yet. You’re still on intravenous antibiotics.”

“But I don’t like being sick.”

“Belle,” Sam said, “don’t whine. You’re lucky to be alive.”

She slurped her milk shake. “You didn’t call Mom and Dad, did you, Sam?”

“No. Sick as you were when we got here, you roused enough to get a death grip on my shirt and make me promise that I wouldn’t. I haven’t called anybody. Want me to?”

“Lord, no. You know I can’t stand hovering. Cole nearly went bonkers from all their attention when he was laid up. When I’m feeling better, I’ll call and tell them about—you know, the other.” She slurped on the straw again, but the cup was dry.

“Want another one of those?” Gabe asked.

“Want? Yes. Can I hold it? No. I think my stomach shrank. Thanks for this one. I think I’ll go to sleep for a while.”

“I LIKE YOUR SISTER,” Gabe said as he and Sam walked down the hall.

“Me, too,” Sam said. “She’s one of a kind. Did I ever tell you that she was an FBI agent?”

Gabe nodded. “I think you told me when you explained about the Outlaw family’s tradition of being named after famous outlaws and all being in law enforcement. You’re Sam Bass Outlaw, and she’s Belle Starr Outlaw. And you have brothers Jesse James and Frank James.”