Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 21

“I don’t understand why this place is so green,” Lucky said. “It can’t be just the stream, for there are streams throughout these mountains and they aren’t like this.”

  “He’s right, Tucker. What kind of trees are these?”

  “They’re pines and fir. They’ve just been sheltered by the ridges around the valley and protected from the winds so they’re full and straight and green.”

  “Back in New York, I did some research about the pollination of plants, for a story,” Lucky offered. “They didn’t publish it, but I’m wondering if the butterflies might not have a hand in helping all this grow. And the birds. I’ve noticed that there are a lot of them.”

  Tucker agreed. “The birds bring in the seed, fertilize them, and the butterflies pollinate the flowers. Without predators or the elements to interfere, the valley just keeps on replenishing itself.”

  “Fairyland,” Lucky commented. “I’d like to describe it, but I could never do it justice.”

  Raven nodded. “Perhaps the mountains not only protect its secrecy, but keep it safe from the elements. The outside world can’t destroy it if they don’t know it’s here.”

  At noon they stopped to rest the horses and allow them to graze and drink from the stream.

  “I think I’ll wander off down the stream a ways,” Lucky said. “I believe I saw some ripe berries back there. You all just go on and do—whatever.”

  Raven felt her face flush.

  “Do whatever?” Tucker grinned. “Do you get the feeling that our friend is trying to play Cupid?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then perhaps we shouldn’t disappoint him.” Tucker pulled Raven into his arms and kissed her deeply. Finally he leaned back and gazed at Raven’s face. Her eyes were glazed with passion.

  “I think you’d better stop looking at me like that, Mrs. Farrell.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a walking invitation to make love, and we can’t keep doing that.”

  Raven moistened her lips and was rewarded by a second kiss. “I don’t see anything wrong with kissing, Tucker.”

  “But desire takes too much of a man’s attention. It isn’t that I don’t want you. God knows that’s all I can think about, and that’s the problem.”

  “Lucky seems to understand. He won’t interrupt us.”

  “It isn’t Lucky that worries me.” Tucker thrust Raven from him. “When all my being is focused on you, Raven, I don’t know what else is happening. Both the bandits and the Indians could be trailing us and I wouldn’t know it.”

  “The spirits would warn us,” she argued, not at all certain that her argument was valid.

  “I don’t know about that. We have a responsibility here too. Don’t you remember your dream? The raven was caught in the rocks and the cougar had to rescue it. Think about it. Suppose something happens to the raven in the valley? I’m supposed to help you, that’s why I was sent here. Remember?”

  Reluctantly Raven had to admit Tucker was right. “Yes, you were sent to guide me to Luce, and you did.”

  “Then Luce charged me with burying him and finding the treasure.”

  “And we’re doing that,” Raven said.

  “Yes, but there is more. I never believed in anything spiritual before I met you, but I’ve been thinking about little else since. Don’t you see, all your dreams have been about a cougar, about your animal self, the raven. Your thoughts and dreams have become a reality.”

  “This is true. But why does that bother you?”

  “I’m thinking about my dreams, too, about dreams of birds, of children, of war. There is much that I don’t understand, and I don’t like not knowing. I think we should turn our attention to our quest. We have to get that behind us before we can trust any of this.”

  At that point a large black bird flew over, breaking the peaceful silence with his raucous cry. It disturbed the horses and Jonah, who brayed in a shrill, complaining tone.

  “You see,” Tucker said in a tight voice, “even I can understand a rebuke. We’ve been warned.”

  A shiver ran down Raven’s spine. Maybe Tucker was right. She was in danger of allowing her own needs to overshadow her mission.

  A clearing of the throat announced Lucky’s return. “Hello in the camp. Look, berries, red berries. I don’t know what they are, but they’re sweet and they really taste good.”

  “Red berries?” Tucker smiled at Raven conspiratorially.

  “See,” she whispered. “The signs are good. The heavens are watching over us, and the earth gives us pleasure.” She took a handful of the berries and popped half into her mouth and handed Tucker the rest. “Trust the spirits, Tucker.”

  “What the hell?” he said. “Ever heard of a real honest-to-God feel-good tonic, Lucky?” he asked grimly.

  “Not one that worked.”

  “Well, don’t give up yet. It might happen someday.”

  But Tucker wasn’t nearly as confident. The mood had been shattered. Realistically and spiritually, Tucker had lost control. He felt as if his essence were turning into liquid and being absorbed by the very ground they were standing on.

  The thought was almost too real.

  17

  In the north, Swift Hand fasted for two days. He smoked the pipe of knowledge and opened his mind to a message from the spirits.

  None came.

  Angrily he finally ordered his braves to mount up. They’d return to the sacred mountains, to the cabin where their mission had begun. They’d follow the path of the spirit woman. He’d put his fear of the sacred mountains behind him. This time he would not fail. He knew that he was the rightful leader of the Arapaho and he would prove it.

  After a day’s ride from Luce’s cabin, Porfiro reached Father Francis’s village. He tortured the priest until Benito finally confessed that the treasure hunters were riding toward the peak of the sacred mountains in the west.

  The next morning, leaving the priest badly beaten but still alive, they took Benito captive, forcing him to accompany them and show them the way.

  After the second day of searching without finding Raven, Porfiro was losing his temper. Benito, fearing for his life, finally told the Mexican about the secret valley.

  “Señor, I can take you to the valley, but beyond that I cannot go. It is said that the valley is haunted by the Ancient Ones.”

  “You will take us there. And if I do not find the woman, you will die by my hands.”

  The valley was deceptively long. From the southern end, great storm clouds, heavy with rain, turned their third day of travel dark. The three travelers were protected from the winds in the low area where they rode, but as the black handfuls of clouds hurled themselves across the sky, Tucker worried. Still in the lowest part of the valley, he was concerned about shelter. In camping by the stream, they’d moved far from the ridges where they might find caves to protect themselves from the rain.

  “We need to ride faster,” he said, feeling an impending sense of disaster. “I don’t like the looks of that sky. We’re too exposed here.”

  “A little rain never hurt anybody.”

  Tucker dug his heels into Yank’s side. “I’m afraid what we’re in for isn’t a little rain.” He knew he was being cross, but he couldn’t seem to recapture the carefree spirit they’d enjoyed on seeing the beauty of the hidden oasis.

  The end of the valley was still far away when the first drops hit, big, cold drops that easily penetrated their clothing. Then the wind came, dipping over the ridge and slapping them from the side like a sharp hand.

  “Whoa!” Lucky called out. “This is looking bad.”

  Onawa now matched Yank stride for stride, bouncing the poorly prepared Lucky about like the butterflies caught in the fury of the gale. Jonah squealed in protest as he scurried to keep up.

  “Looks like the burro has the right name,” Raven shouted in Tucker’s ear.

  “I think your spirits may be just a bit angry,” Tucker yelled as he bent forward, wrapping both his arms a
round Raven. “The bird tried to warn us. Now we’re about to get swallowed by Jonah’s whale.”

  They were being drenched now as the storm broke over them in a fury. Thunder rolled. Lightning scissored the sky. Frantically now the horses plunged through the darkness, moving toward the safety of the mountains as if their lives depended on it.

  And the rain continued to fall in torrents. For what seemed like hours, they rode, slipping, sliding, and being boxed about by the wind. Now, over the sound of the rain came a roar, distant at first, then stronger.

  “What’s that noise?” Lucky shouted out.

  “I don’t know.” Tucker lifted his head to judge the distance to the bottom of the mountain. Not too far now. If they could keep the horses from stepping into a hole in their mad rush, they just might make it, but poor Jonah was falling behind.

  Then, in a flash of lightning, Tucker identified the sound. Water. The stream was being fed from every crevice plunging down the mountains through the rimrocks, and the water was filling the valley like a bowl. They were about to be drowned by an angry flood.

  “Hurry! We have to get up the ridge.”

  Straining with every ounce of their energy, the two horses plunged toward the rocks, found the first footholds, and started to climb. The three riders made it, but they couldn’t see Jonah. As soon as they reached the rocks, Tucker slid to the ground, tugging Raven after him. He couldn’t let her die, he wouldn’t.

  “We can climb better on foot,” he said. “You too, Lucky. Let the horses go. They’ll find their own way.” Taking Raven’s hand, he started up.

  The rain pelted their faces, turning the rocks into slick obstacles and the spaces between into mud-entrenched rivulets. The storm rolled and the elements fought overhead. Tucker gave silent thanks that he couldn’t see where they’d climbed. The trek had been steep and they were high up the side of the valley.

  Just as Tucker despaired of surviving, Raven pulled on his arm.

  “This way.” She shouted. “A cave.”

  Tucker didn’t ask how she knew, he simply followed her, reaching back to make certain that Lucky was still there.

  Moments later they were inside the dark hole in the earth. They were wet and cold, just like the first time they’d met. Except this time there were three of them, and the water below them was rising. Miserably they huddled in the cave, protected from the elements by the mountain.

  Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the storm abated and the sun shown out in giddy brilliance on the water-soaked valley below. Like a million tears, the droplets sparkled in the sunlight. And even as they watched, the water began to recede.

  “There must be a huge cavern beneath the mountains to take the water away that quick,” Raven observed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Lucky, still clutching his oilcloth-covered notebooks, stood at the door to the cave, his eyes opened wide in awe. “The valley is like a big round bucket with a hole in it.”

  Tucker held tight to the edge of the cave and felt his traitorous knees weaken at the height they’d achieved in the rain. “So much for the valley being protected from the elements,” he said.

  “But it doesn’t seem to be harmed, and the water brings new life as well. But what about the—” Raven’s voice turned sorrowful, “the butterflies, the ones left behind. They couldn’t possibly have survived all that.”

  But even as Raven spoke she saw splashes of yellow and black spring to life above the rain-washed meadows. Across the entire valley, there were hundreds of dots of color. And something more. “Look,” Raven cried in delight, “a rainbow.”

  For Tucker it was too much to take in. Near death, then a rainbow. The three muddy treasure hunters stood in the mouth of the cave taking in the beauty of the scene before them.

  Then Lucky frowned. “Where’s Jonah?”

  “The last I saw of him,” Tucker answered, “was when we started up the ridge. He fell behind and the water began to rise. I don’t know.”

  “What about Yank and Onawa?” Raven asked.

  “They’re somewhere above us,” Tucker said with more confidence than he felt. “Let’s see what we can do about moving up.”

  But the way was treacherous, and it was almost more than Tucker could do to force himself to climb. Only by planting his eyes firmly on what lay ahead could he reach back to make certain that Raven stayed alongside. Even Lucky commented that they’d picked the steepest part of the ridge to climb.

  Finally, hot and sweaty, they reached the mesa at the top where Yank and Onawa waited beneath the last stand of fir trees extending beyond the greenery of the valley below. But there was no Jonah.

  Reluctantly Lucky mounted Onawa as Tucker and a silent Raven rode Yank across the gray ribbon that snaked its way around the mountain and down the slight incline beyond. Once they got past that, they’d be on their way to the jagged rock that Raven was convinced was their destination. They moved slowly now, as if they didn’t want to leave the valley.

  “I suppose he could swim,” Lucky speculated.

  “Jonah? With a name like that, I’m certain of it,” Raven answered. “He’ll probably show up before we camp for the night.”

  But he didn’t and it was obvious that Lucky’s appetite was affected by the burro’s absence, for he ate sparingly. Finally he stood.

  “I think I’ll walk back down the trail and see if I can find the rascal. He has my bedroll and food. Would you mind? I’ll catch up with you tomorrow. Jonah will know where you are.”

  Before Tucker and Raven could answer, Lucky was moving off at a rapid clip.

  “I’m surprised,” Tucker said. “The man isn’t used to physical exercise, and he’s been in the saddle for two days.”

  “He has a good heart and he’s worried about the burro. I’m worried about him too.”

  Tucker poured coffee into the pot and breathed in the smell of the strong liquid brewing over the fire. “I’d be a lot more worried about Lucky than Jonah. That burro can take care of himself.”

  But the burro’s disappearance put a pall over the night, and even with Lucky gone, Tucker made no move to be close to Raven. Instead he unfurled their bedrolls apart but close to the fire to dry out the lingering dampness.

  He’d have to think about providing food for Raven. They would soon use up the salt pork and flour they’d brought, and so far Tucker hadn’t foraged for food in the most lush marketplace they’d encountered. He didn’t want to give voice to his reasons. Finding game meant using his pistol, and he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the silence with gunfire.

  Gunfire carried, and if they were being followed, he’d be pinpointing their location.

  Nightfall came and Lucky didn’t return.

  There was little sleep for either Raven or Tucker that night. Raven slipped inside her blanket, disappointed, but understanding of Tucker’s reasons for keeping his distance. Already she was missing the feel of his big, strong body. How would she get along without him now that she’d learned how he made her feel? Waiting in the darkness, she hoped he’d change his mind and reach out for her. But for the first time, he didn’t welcome her. There was no heart-stopping kiss. She missed being in his arms and she couldn’t forget about the long-legged newspaperman who had been reborn as Lucky Smith. The darkness lay heavy on her heart.

  “I hope he is lucky,” she whispered. “Please, Mother Earth, look after the man. He only wants to write about your goodness. And look after Tucker, because I care for him.”

  Swift Hand crested the ridge overlooking the valley before sunset. He looked at the lush green growth in awe. There would be animal life in such a place, food and water. He thanked Mother Earth for her bounty and started toward the floor of the valley. The storm had washed away any trace of Raven, but she was nearby; he could feel her strong presence.

  It was nearly dark when Porfiro and his men viewed the astounding sight of butterflies roosting for the night against the purple hues of the setting sun. He was stunned by the vall
ey, but even more delighted by the possibility of catching up to Señora Farrell and her americano.

  He was not a superstitious man, but what if Benito were right about this place? With the darkness the valley grew eerily quiet, except for the sound of the night birds. After what had happened back in the village with the birds, it was always better to be safe. They’d make camp at the top and begin their search again in full light.

  Quickly he gave the orders. His men tied up Benito and began setting up a fireless camp. Sullenly they ate cold tortillas, cheered only by the wine they’d slipped away from the fiesta. Porfiro chose a dry spot beneath a large tree, wrapped himself in blankets, and went to sleep dreaming of gold and jewels.

  Farther down the valley, Swift Hand looked up at the Mexicans and made a gesture of loathing. He was not the only one after the spirit woman. He’d learned enough Spanish to understand the leader’s orders. They meant to take the treasure and harm Raven and her man. Swift Hand had no love for the woman who’d usurped his place in the tribe, but she was one of his own, and a good leader looked after all his people.

  The fat little man hadn’t even set a guard for his own camp. Swift Hand gave a signal to his braves and settled down to wait. At full dark they would water and hobble the horses at the stream below. They were outnumbered. They’d have to take advantage of the Mexicans’ being full of wine.

  And his men would be quick and silent.

  Near the top of the peak, Raven lay in her own bedroll, missing the warmth of being in Tucker’s arms. He was only inches away. She should have felt safe, but she was uneasy. She attributed her restlessness to her unfulfilled mission and the ease with which she allowed her feelings for Tucker to interfere.

  “What’s wrong?” Tucker asked quietly.

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that. You’re the calmest person I know and now you can’t be still.”

  She was lying with her head on her arm, looking at the mountain peaks before them. “I guess it’s because Lucky and Jonah are missing and I still don’t know where the treasure is. I thought we’d have a sign by now. The map shows the valley, the stream, and the peaks, but there are so many. Even my mother’s carrying bag doesn’t speak to me.”