Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Read online

  Swift Hand gave a last vicious tug to the knot, almost pulling Raven from Onawa’s back. “Flying Cloud had no right to give the secret to you. Rightfully, I should have been sent to bring back that which is ours.”

  Raven’s head ached. Her mouth was dry, as if she’d crossed the desert without water. She was having great difficulty understanding what had happened. The last thing she remembered was studying the tin pan with the holes punched in it. Only when she began to wake did she realize that she’d been captured.

  “Please understand. I am only following the Grandfather’s wishes. I do not know where the treasure is. I would take you with me if you promise to honor my pledge to buy land for our people.”

  “Hah!” Swift Hand swore and lapsed into the Arapaho language, gesturing wildly as he spoke.

  Raven straightened her back and held her head high. “Then we will not agree. And I tell you again, I cannot guide you to the treasure, for I do not know where it is hidden.”

  Swift Hand paced back and forth, pausing to stare off into the distance, then pacing again. Finally he stopped, squatted, and conferred with Little Eagle. Then he stood.

  “We will leave this place for now. No man abandons his horse. Your man will come for it, and we will just let him tell us where the treasure can be found.”

  Raven was afraid that Swift Hand was right. Tucker might not care about her, but he’d not give up Yank easily. Once more she’d put her rescuer in danger.

  Oh, Grandfather, why is this happening? I cannot believe that you wanted this.

  Swift Hand vaulted onto his horse and led the procession of braves back down the trail to the cabin. Any hope Raven had of stopping there quickly vanished when he rode past, taking the hazardous trail back toward the gorge where the Rio Grande flowed.

  Already shadows filled the crevices of rock. It was the time of night just past sunset, before the moon’s faint rays ventured across the blackness. More than once Swift Hand stopped his pony and listened. Even Raven was beginning to feel a curious unease.

  When they reached the ridge, the leader came to a stop. “We will camp here.” Swift Hand threw his leg over his pony and slid to the ground.

  He pulled Raven from her horse and shoved her to the ground near a yellow pine growing at the center of the rocky ledge. As his men built a fire Swift Hand searched the saddlebags, finding Tucker’s bottle of whiskey. The Indians argued about who would keep watch and who would share their find. Soon they forgot about her. All but Swift Hand.

  Though she was both hungry and thirsty, she ignored her discomfort, concentrating instead on trying to reach Tucker. She emptied her head of all thoughts, allowing her spirit to wander free. She smelled the earth, felt the rough bark of the tree against her back.

  Her mind seemed in tune with the very air. She waited, as if she expected at any moment to hear someone speak to her. The wind turned brisk, yet the night sky remained clear. Closing her eyes, Raven remained totally still.

  Hours passed. She couldn’t see Swift Hand, but she knew he was there, in the darkness behind her. The fire burned down and the braves stretched out to sleep, leaving only Swift Hand and the one called Little Eagle to watch.

  Still Raven waited.

  The night was silent, disturbed only by the occasional howl of a wild animal and the wind. Like a whisper it came, softly but insistently, the sound of wings, brushing the night with flutters. Raven felt the touch of something mystical.

  Then suddenly, in one ice-drenched moment, she felt an intrusion, a presence. No face, no flesh to touch, but she could feel him. And silent words—unbidden yet welcome.

  “Where are you, Spirit Woman? I feel you, but I cannot see you.”

  Tucker, she whispered. Be still and I will come to you.

  Beyond her skin. Beyond the night she reached, her mind probing, searching for the golden cord that linked them. And she knew that she had changed. Whatever she had been before, she was different now. Her past remained, her future was uncertain. But she could examine both from a far distance. This man, Tucker Farrell, was her link, her bridge from one to the other.

  She brought his face into view, focusing on his blue eyes, his golden hair, and his weathered skin. He was strong but human. Her reluctant self-appointed protector was willing to risk his life to protect hers. And he searched for her now.

  She could see him, sense him, but for now the elusive golden cord floated in the unknown realm of her mind, unjoined.

  Still, her heart filled with joy. He was alive. And he searched for her. She would wait.

  8

  Tucker moved steadily through the night, arguing now and then with Luce’s burro, who saw no reason to travel at such a speed. Swift Hand and his braves had made no effort to conceal their shoeless pony tracks. It was obvious they wanted to be found.

  After his forays into the mountains, Tucker found it easy to trail them. He was able to move swiftly, for he knew the way.

  By the time the eastern sky began to lighten, pearly wisps of clouds swirled around the mountaintop where Tucker walked. There was an eerie quiet. No birds sang. No wind. Only silence.

  Tucker paused, closed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on Raven. Where are you, Spirit Woman? I know you’re here somewhere but I can’t find you. I still don’t believe in all this spirit stuff, but I’d welcome a sign about now.

  Nothing. No squawking birds, no pictures drawn on rocks, no visions. He hadn’t expected anything, yet as he waited he felt a presence, a commanding sense of connection. He could neither see her nor hear her, but somehow they touched.

  It was the altitude, he decided, shaking off the eerie feeling that had settled over him. He emptied the last sip of water from Luce’s canteen and rested for a few minutes. With new purpose he went forward, making his footsteps as soft as the pads of the mountain lion to which Raven had likened him.

  Around the next outcropping of rock, he saw their fire. Swift Hand and his braves. They were sleeping, even the guard. It was too easy. Swift Hand might be confident, but he was no fool. Unless he wanted Tucker to take Raven. Unless he’d been drawn into a false sense of security.

  He counted seventeen Arapaho. Their ponies had been hobbled and left to move awkwardly beyond their camp on the small flat ridge where they’d stopped for sleep. He could see Yank’s huge silhouette in the light, and the pinto mare who stood beside him. But where was Raven?

  His gaze traveled around the smoldering campfire, counting sleeping forms in the shadowy light. Then he saw her. In the middle, leaning against a rock, she sat, looking straight at him as if she could see him through the darkness.

  No, not yet. Beware.

  Her warning came to him as clearly as if she’d spoken. It was only a slight sound of movement that gave Swift Hand away, a sound so faint that it might have been caused by a leaf falling. But Tucker knew instinctively. The Indian was there, beyond the circle, waiting.

  Did he know that Tucker had caught up with them? Tucker didn’t come any closer. He could see the camp, yet he was still too far away to be seen. But Luce’s burro had other ideas. He sensed the presence of the other horses and began to strain to free himself to reach them.

  Then it came to Tucker. Use the distraction, not to rescue Raven as they expected, but to take Yank. Raven’s importance was not lost on Swift Hand. He wouldn’t hurt her, and Yank’s disappearance could be explained as natural, particularly if he arranged for some of the other horses to escape as well. With a horse to ride, when he took Raven, they would have the means to escape.

  But as logical as his thoughts were, Tucker didn’t know if he could walk away and leave her behind. Would she understand what he was doing and why? Could he do it? Perhaps he wouldn’t have to.

  Tucker tied the burro to a bush, loosely enough so that he could eventually free himself. Then, drawing down behind the boulders, he backtracked and moved higher into the rocks, working his way around the camp to the other side where the horses were.

  Moments later the squ
ealing burro raced down the trail, through the camp. The Indians reacted automatically, reaching for their rifles and positioning themselves for an attack. Swift Hand closed the distance between him and Raven, standing boldly beside his captive.

  But it was the Indian horses that foiled Tucker’s plan. One scent of Tucker and they reacted with fear and agitation. He had to act quickly or they would give him away. As he cut the rawhide from its hooves, Tucker grabbed a packet of food from the saddlebag of one of the Indian ponies and stuck it into Yank’s saddlebag. He then unshackled a second pony and Yank. He would have freed Onawa, but Raven would need a safe mount until she could be rescued. The best Tucker could hope for was that the Indians would believe the burro had followed them on his own and in the confusion the horses had escaped.

  He had intended to lead Yank away and turn him in the direction of Luce’s cabin. The big horse would eventually stop and wait. But in the melee of the burro’s disturbance, Yank pulled away and ran with the Indian ponies to the north. Tucker hadn’t counted on Onawa’s determination to follow, even with her legs hobbled. He had to cut her free or run the risk of injury to the young horse. So be it. He cut the cord, flicked the mare on her rump, and watched her escape into the darkness.

  Tucker quickly made his way back to a place above the site so that he could monitor the Indians’ movements. He had to move carefully now, else he’d let loose one of the boulders behind which he hid.

  Boulders. The perfect answer. If there was a way to make certain that the falling rubble missed Raven. He poked his head around the rock he used for shelter and took a quick look.

  The sun, rising across the canyon to the east, cast a pallor over the campsite. The Indians were trying to calm their horses. Two braves raced down the trail after the escaping ponies. Swift Hand had jerked Raven to her feet and was dragging her toward the largest horse, unleashing a furious tirade in Arapaho.

  “What makes you think anybody directed the burro? He’s just used to being with the horses,” Raven said. “I already told you that Tucker went hunting yesterday and never returned. My guess is that the Mexicans got him.”

  Swift Hand looked around uneasily. It was obvious that he wasn’t buying her explanation, but since Tucker hadn’t tried to rescue Raven, the Indian was confused.

  “Where’s Onawa?” Raven asked.

  Swift Hand jerked around, noting for the first time that, along with the big black, the painted mare was also gone. The loss of four horses meant that some of the braves would walk, and none wanted that assignment

  “Let’s go,” Swift Hand ordered. “You can ride double.”

  “Why would you want to leave when the treasure is behind us?” Raven asked shrewdly.

  Swift Hand glanced back up the trail warily. “The spirits are restless,” he said. “They do not welcome the Arapaho.”

  “This is because they do not wish you to invade their sacred mountains. Let me go, and I will share whatever wealth I find with all the Arapaho people. I give you my word.”

  “No, it is a trick. I do not trust you, Medicine Woman. Bring my pony.” He let go of Raven for a moment to cut the tethers from his horse.

  At that moment Raven glanced up in the rocks. She saw the boulder begin to shimmy, slightly at first, then wildly. Loose gravel began to slide down the mountain. Then with a great creak, the boulder toppled over and began to fall toward the spot where Swift Hand stood.

  He heard the commotion and looked up, let out a yell, and started after Raven. But she had already plunged into the rocks out of the boulder’s path and started climbing upward.

  “Get back here, Medicine Woman!”

  The boulder suddenly veered, hit a larger rock, and bounced, breaking into three pieces and rolling in opposite directions, one piece splitting Swift Hand from his braves, another separating him from Raven. By the time the dust settled, she had vanished.

  “Spread out,” Swift Hand called to his men. “Find her!”

  But they only stared. It was obvious to Tucker that none wanted to risk rousing the wrath of the mountain. In order to save his dignity, Swift Hand must counter the interference of the elements.

  His quick search of the area proved unsuccessful. Swift Hand’s expression was perplexed at first, then uneasy.

  “She is nowhere,” Little Eagle said.

  “She is somewhere,” Swift Hand insisted. “Look again.”

  But this time Little Eagle seemed even more reluctant to follow orders. “She is a spirit woman; maybe while we were not looking, she turned into a raven and flew away.”

  “You are right, my brothers,” Swift Hand agreed, “we must not act too quickly and anger the spirits. We will wait until the time is right. Then the treasure will be ours.” He turned, threw his leg across his pony, and rode away, his men following without even a backward glance.

  Once he was certain that Swift Hand hadn’t doubled back, Tucker called out, “Raven, where are you?”

  But there was no answer. He was beginning to get a bad feeling. Where was she?

  He moved quickly down the mountain, being careful not to dislodge any more loose rock. He went to the place where he’d last seen her.

  Then he found her, hidden beneath debris and brush. The third rock had found its mark. Raven lay white-faced and still, with the rock resting on her leg.

  “Damn it to hell! I thought your spirits would protect one of their own.”

  “I’m all right, Tucker. I won’t do any marching, but then, you have the more experience at that. Call Onawa.”

  He found a limb to use as a wedge and moved the rock, grimacing at the nasty cut just below her knee. “Onawa’s gone. I set Yank free and she insisted on tagging along.”

  “She’ll return, when it’s safe.”

  “I hope so.” He was beginning to wonder if safety was something they could ever look forward to. “Can you stand?”

  “You mean can I walk?” She gave him her hands and allowed him to lift her. Standing was possible, but she winced, and blood began to flow from the wound.

  “Take a step.”

  She let out an agonizing cry and nearly crumpled as she put her weight on her injured leg. “Well, I guess that takes care of walking,” she said with a grimace. “I think I sprained my ankle.”

  Tucker looked about anxiously. Swift Hand may have ridden away, but there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t double back. In fact, all of this could be an elaborate hoax to draw him out. With Tucker out of the way, Raven would be forced to rely on Swift Hand’s help.

  Walking back to Luce’s cabin under the best of circumstances would be risky. Now it would be impossible. Without horses they couldn’t make any kind of time.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to carry you.” He lifted her in his arms and stoically refused to show any evidence of the pain her weight caused his sore ribs.

  “You can’t carry me,” Raven protested. “You’re still injured.”

  “I’m fine. Have I complained?”

  “No, but no man heals that quick.”

  “But I’m a cougar, remember?”

  His warm breath fluttered her hair. Then he pulled back, his blue eyes teasing as he smiled, erasing for a moment the seriousness of their situation. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed a side of Tucker Farrell she hadn’t seen. She was aware of the feel of his hard, sinewy chest pressed against her, of the beat of his heart and the pressure of his fingertips against her thighs. His nearness took away her fears, replacing them with a mad surge of something she couldn’t put a name to.

  For a second his fingers dug into her rib cage, and she knew that he was feeling the same flash of awareness. “I know that I’m heavy,” she said in a breathless voice. “Even for a cougar.”

  “You’re—you’re just right.”

  She let go of one hand and traced the tiny scab left from where he’d cut his face shaving. “You’re very strong.”

  “And I’m also very much a man, Raven Alexander. Stop rubbing yourself agains
t me unless you want me to find a cave and—”

  She gasped. “And what?”

  “Well, let’s put it this way. Cougars aren’t solitary animals. And it’s spring.”

  She gave his face one last touch and replaced her hand around his neck. She felt the tight resistance in his body and the tension in her own as it brushed against him.

  “I may not have any personal experience with men, Tucker, but I know the danger we are in and I know you could get away and go back to find the treasure for yourself. Why are you doing this?”

  “Damned if I know. Because you put some kind of witch’s spell on me, I suppose.”

  She paid little heed to his warning. She wasn’t afraid of her cougar, whether it was spring or not. Like his animal spirit, he was a magnificent specimen of a male, and she couldn’t stop herself from pulling his head down to hers. He’d kissed her once and the memory of those lips against hers was driving her to distraction.

  Her lips parted sweetly beneath his, her tongue sweeping past them and finding the essence of the man she was learning to need more than life. There was a moan. She didn’t know whether it was her or Tucker, but as the fire caught, she gave in to the incredible need to fold herself around him.

  She kneaded the back of his neck, saying with her hands and mouth what she couldn’t put into words. Because of their situation, this might be all she’d ever have of this man who was becoming so important to her.

  His hand beneath her bottom clenched and unclenched, moving up and down as if he couldn’t be still. Finally, with a gasp, he pulled away and went down on one knee.

  “Don’t do this, Raven. Suppose Swift Hand returns?”

  She was breathing so hard that she could barely talk. She burned everywhere they touched. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. He knows now that these mountains are sacred. He’ll have to find more courage before he can return.”

  “That’s what I mean. We only have a few hours to put some distance between us. We can’t do this.”

  Roughly he lifted her and stood once more, heading not up the trail as she expected but in the same direction as the Indians had gone. He was going to return her to Swift Hand. She’d pushed him too far.