Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 22

  “I know. After we saw the markings on the stones where we buried Luce, I thought we might find them again. But if they were ever there, they’re either gone now or we’ve missed them.”

  The sun had already passed behind the valley summit and the watery light of the moon had not yet lit the peaks. Already the stars were beginning to blink in the sky. As Raven studied the shadowy ridges she began to feel a shiver creep up her spine.

  “Tucker, get that tin pan.

  “You want to look at the map in the dark.”

  “It isn’t that dark, and for what I want to see, I won’t need light.”

  Tucker rose and fumbled through the saddlebags, handing the tin pan to Raven as he reclaimed his spot beneath the blanket.

  Raven held the plate out in front of her, lifting it over her head so that she was looking at it against the sky.

  “Look, Tucker, these markings we’ve been studying match up with the stars above the ridges. The spots on Luce’s scalp weren’t peaks, they were stars!” She kept moving the pan around, changing her position as she looked through it.

  “So, what does that tell us? There is no X where the treasure is buried. And besides, the earth turns and the stars move.”

  “No, we’re in the right place. Just look here at these two holes close together. You can see the light of the setting sun through both of them. The others to the left are faint.”

  “So the stars aren’t out yet. The sky is too light.”

  Raven was getting excited. “No, that isn’t it. Flying Cloud told me that Luce would guide me to a place where the light of the moon meets the light of the sun. The two holes on the right have sunlight and the first and second holes on the left have moonlight. Now, the second hole is growing lighter. The light of the moon has caught the light of the sun. It’s there, Tucker. There, where they meet. That’s where the treasure is hidden.”

  “And where is that, Raven? I don’t have a marker to draw a line downward from that spot, and it’s too dark to identify the place.”

  “But it won’t be in the morning. All we have to do is lie right here, where I’m lying now, and hold the plate up to the sky. At the point between the two circles is where we’ll find the treasure.”

  “Sure. Nothing to it.”

  “We won’t know exactly, but as long as we head for the area, we’ll find it.”

  “Let me look,” Tucker said, taking the plate. “I can’t see a thing. It’s all moonlight now.”

  “And your position is wrong. It has to be seen from where I am. The rimrocks catch the light and throw it back. Oh, Tucker, I’m certain of it. When the light of the moon touches the light of the sun. Tomorrow we’ll reach the place. Somehow we’ll get a sign.”

  Tucker dropped back on the ground, uncertain of his feelings. They’d come so far. Raven was convinced that the treasure was really up there in the rocks, waiting for them to find it.

  Then what would happen? The thought that their mission was over brought cold chills to his heart. Until now Raven had been caught up in the heat of the chase and her awakening as a woman. Once it was all over, would there be room left in her life for him?

  She folded her arms across her chest, holding the tin plate close to her heart, and gave a big sigh of satisfaction. “Oh, Tucker. We’re going to do it, find the treasure and buy the land. The Arapaho won’t have to go to the reservation, and the spirit of my grandfather will be at peace.”

  A tight “Yes” was all he could manage. He wanted to throw the pan away, forget about the treasure and—

  What?

  Raven hadn’t been the only one indulging herself in the euphoria of the search. He’d been just as bad. Loving her at night and spending the days searching for a dream come true. The two of them against the elements and their enemies. With their passion to bind them.

  Even Lucky hadn’t changed anything. For a time, he’d been welcomed into their little fantasy. Where was the man? Tucker had wanted to go back and search for him, but Raven had said no. He was all right. He’d find them sooner or later. And Tucker was forced to bow to her wisdom.

  But now all that was about to come to an end. And Tucker Farrell, cowboy and drifter, would become a drifter again. Except before, what he did and where he did it was unimportant. This time he felt empty. Empty and full of longing. Without a purpose, he hadn’t cared what happened.

  The cold hard truth was—now he cared.

  Lucky, still searching for Jonah, slipped and sloshed across the meadow. It was very late when he finally faced the fact that he was lost.

  He had to rest. The lower valley was too wet to bed down in. He headed for a section of rock that shone white in the moonlight. Nearby was an elevated stand of trees. With any luck he could find a spot there where the water had receded. By fashioning some kind of bed made of boughs, maybe he’d get some sleep, then retrace his steps in the morning.

  But the white rocks weren’t just rocks; the color came from a coating of slippery mud. His first attempt to cross over sent him rolling down the gooey substance, covering him head to toe with a shimmering coating of white. He even had mud in his eyelashes.

  “Ah, heck!” He’d done it again, fallen on his face. Now what would Raven and Tucker think? He’d better wash the mud away before it hardened.

  He trudged back toward the stream. Exhausted almost to the point of dropping where he stood, Lucky stopped worrying about being careful and, pushing his way through a stand of brush, came out on a huge rock overlooking the creek.

  At that moment the moon, just about to drop behind the trees, slanted a sharp light across the valley. A gust of wind swept down from the north, its sound becoming a low moan in the silence as if the valley were speaking.

  “Mother of God!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing eerily across the valley.

  Lucky was stunned when five shadowy figures sprang to their feet and drew their rifles. They were Indians, not Mexicans, watering their horses and caught completely unaware.

  Then the Indian leader saw Lucky and fell to his knees. The braves were pointing up at him and backing away in terror. He looked down at himself and understood. When the moonlight struck the mud, it picked up traces of silver and made his body look as if it were sprinkled with stardust.

  “The keeper of the sacred mountains,” Swift Hand called out. “The Ancient One.”

  Lucky didn’t know what the Indian meant, but it was clear that he thought Lucky was some kind of god or spirit.

  Why not make them really believe it? He started to moan, softly at first, then louder. He waved his arms and stomped his feet.

  “Aio ooo ohhhh. Um bah. Um bah. Aio ooo ohhhh.”

  As Lucky lapsed into a mock Indian chant, the Indians cried out in terror.

  Across the valley, Porfiro, already awakened by the unidentified curse, heard the war chant, then the screams. “Indians.” He swore. He and his men were too close to the treasure to turn back. But they weren’t the only ones following the spirit woman.

  “Spirits,” Benito contradicted. “These are sacred mountains. You are being warned away.”

  Porfiro considered his situation. He didn’t believe for one minute that what he’d heard was ghosts. There were Indians in the valley. Obviously they were unaware of his presence or they would have attacked the camp. He didn’t know what they were doing, but so long as the noise continued, they were safe.

  “Take cover,” he ordered.

  The frightened bandits, half asleep, searched for rocks and bushes to hide behind.

  Porfiro didn’t know how long it was until morning, but he feared that the Indians were holding some kind of battle ceremony, perhaps a war dance. Having already met a band of renegades who’d killed too many of his followers, he didn’t want to take any chances. Still, his own men were about to bolt.

  “Don’t soil your trousers. The savages don’t attack at night,” he said in a low voice.

  “No,” Benito chided, “but the spirits do.”

  Porfiro swallow
ed his uncertainty. “Be silent, old man!”

  Before Benito could argue, they heard the frantic sound of ponies galloping away in a mad withdrawal. The sound of their hoofbeats receded as they headed into the cover of the trees and up the valley, cresting the ridge beyond.

  “What was that all about?” the bandit called Juan asked warily.

  “Indians,” Porfiro answered. “Spirits don’t ride horses.”

  “No, I mean before. What made that unholy sound I heard?”

  “I told you,” Benito said softly, “it was the keeper of the sacred mountains. Those who come to this place unwanted, die.”

  “Gag him before I decide to kill him,” Porfiro ordered.

  Once Juan had complied, they settled in to wait for morning.

  By the time the sunlight slid across the valley, Porfiro knew that the bandits were bordering on giving up the treasure hunt. He couldn’t deny that he, too, felt something spooky, as if they were being watched. But by whom? The Indians were gone. Raven and the americano were no threat against such great odds.

  And he refused to believe in any spirit keeper.

  “Mount up, men. Let’s find that treasure. Just think of all the señoritas and wine we can buy. We will be rich!”

  Sluggishly they complied. For most of the day, they fanned across the valley, until they found Raven and Tucker’s campsite on the mesa. By that time it was nearly dark, and Porfiro decided they were close enough to pull up. If they were going to allow the spirit woman to lead them to the treasure, they did not want to interfere with her search.

  They made a cold camp and, fearing the return of the keeper of the sacred mountains, each man slept with his rifle loaded and laid across his chest.

  Tucker was growing more and more uneasy. Raven slept quietly beside him. Lucky was still gone. Yank and Onawa moved about restlessly. Tucker’s eyes felt as if they were filled with river sand when he finally closed them. The moon was high in the sky. When the dream started, he wasn’t sure for a moment whether it was real or whether he was asleep.

  They were in a cave, a dark cave with walls and a ceiling like those of a room. The walls were all gray and damp, except for the wall directly ahead. It was lighter in color and smooth. They couldn’t go forward and they couldn’t return. Raven leaned against the wall, crying. He started toward her when the earth began to move and the floor of the cave cracked open, swallowing her up in the fissure that formed.

  Crawling to the side, Tucker peered down. He could see her at the bottom of the crack in the earth. She was standing in an odd yellow light, surrounded by brightness.

  “Tucker, we’ve found it!” she cried out. “I told you we would. A mountain of gold and jewels! Come down and get yours!”

  “Raven, come up!” he called out. “It isn’t safe. You could be crushed.”

  “No, we’ve found the treasure. Tucker, you have to help me.”

  But he couldn’t. His knees buckled and his lungs collapsed. He couldn’t draw air into them and he was frozen where he lay.

  Then the earth began to tremble again. Raven would be trapped down there with her treasure. She’d found what she was seeking, but he was about to lose her and there was nothing he could do.

  Panting and terrified, Tucker awoke and sat straight up. It was morning. Raven was holding the plate in front of her, then moving it away and studying the ridges before them.

  “I think I’ve spotted it,” she said. “Look there, where the light-colored peak joins the jagged edge of the black rock. Do you see it, in the middle, about halfway up?”

  “I see it.”

  “Let’s move out quickly.” She began to scatter the fire.

  “No, stop.” He grabbed her arm. “I’ve changed my mind. You aren’t going up there.”

  She turned toward him, her face filled with surprise. “What do you mean? Of course I am. If you wish to remain behind, I’ll understand.”

  “You think I’m afraid?”

  “I wouldn’t hold you responsible if you changed your mind, Tucker. You’ve already done more than I had any right to expect.

  “You don’t understand.” His voice was so low that she could barely understand the words. “You’ll be hurt.”

  “Tucker, I’ve already been hurt. I’ve been captured by Swift Hand and I’ve survived a flood.”

  “But this is different. You’re going to fall and I—I can’t—”

  She put her hands on his muscular arms and searched his face. “What’s wrong, Tucker?”

  “I had a dream. I saw the treasure and I saw—”

  “You saw me get hurt?”

  “No, not really. I just saw you fall and then I woke up.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and leaned up to kiss him. “I know you care for me, but I have to go on, with or without you.”

  Tucker was defeated. He couldn’t stop her. He couldn’t let her go on alone. The forces of nature had set things into motion, and nothing could stop them.

  “Then we must eat,” he said, building up the fire. “We don’t know how far we have to go or what will happen.”

  Reluctantly Raven prepared the last of their salt pork and made a skilletful of bread. They drank their coffee and ate quickly. Then Raven, regal and stoic, was ready to go. Tucker, reluctant and silent, accompanied her.

  By midmorning they’d reached what appeared to be a dozen dead ends, only to find at the last minute a space where the rocks seemed to open up and they were finally able to get through. They were halfway to the rocks that Raven had marked. At noon they rested the horses, ate the last chunks of the bread, and washed them down with water from the stream that ran along beside their path. At sunset they’d reached a flat area at the base of the rocks she’d kept in her sight for the entire day.

  Tucker figured they were within an hour’s climb of their destination. Lacy patches of clouds floated low, swirling around them and moving down the valley behind. An eerie sense of forboding settled in with the fog. Even the birds had hushed. Tucker had spent the last two hours searching the rocks overhead and the slope behind.

  He couldn’t explain the feeling he had. But if the area weren’t so barren, he would swear that they were being watched. The dream, he decided. It had spooked him and he couldn’t get rid of the image of Raven at the bottom of that crack in the earth.

  “We’ll camp here for the night and wait for good light before we go higher,” he finally said.

  “But we’re so close,” Raven argued.

  “And in our haste we could make a mistake. We haven’t come this far to do something foolish.”

  She could tell by his tone of voice that arguing would be useless, so she agreed. “We have nothing left but coffee.”

  “I’ll see if I can find a rabbit before dark.” He checked his pistol and started across the side of the ridge, moving quietly but steadily. It was almost dark when he spotted the deep pool that bowed out from the stream. Two shadows flitted about the water.

  Fish would be just as good as a rabbit, and they didn’t require him to fire his pistol. He didn’t want to call attention to their location. Besides, he hadn’t seen anything moving until now. He studied the pool. If he dislodged the rocks at the lower edge of the enclosure, the water would drain out. If he did it just right, he’d capture at least one of the fish.

  He was lucky. The downward pull of the water kept the fish from moving back toward the stream, and by placing the rocks he moved at the upper edge of the pool, he kept most of the stream water from refilling the hollowed-out space. In less than ten minutes, he had two big trout, dressed and strung on a limb for carrying. Supper without firing a shot.

  That was important. He knew in his bones that they were being followed by something or someone. He wished he knew whether it was the bandits or the Indians.

  While Tucker was gone, Raven explored the area. The ridges were made of red boulders rolled downward from the red-and-tan limestone cliffs. Layers of clay seemed to hold the rocks together. Nestled among th
em were little pockets of greasewood and prickly pear, a cactus that promised retribution if they made the wrong move.

  Tucker had been wise to bring them to a stop. Falling was probably the least of the potential dangers ahead. The silence was broken by a swarm of Mexican swallows swooping toward one of the cliffs protected from the sun by another ridge. The birds had built mud nests on the face of the rock, and she could see little heads poking through holes in the center of the cones. When the birds flew near, she could hear the tiny fledglings screeching to be fed.

  As she headed back to camp, Raven was pleasantly surprised to come upon a patch of glistening green-leafed plants. With the wandlike blades thrusting out in all directions and a single stem in the center holding up clusters of white blossoms, she recognized the plants as sotol. With a knife she dug the dirt away from the bulb from which the roots dug down into a rare patch of rich earth. She chopped away the leaves, revealing a pineapple-shaped cone, which she buried in the coals of the fire. It would make a good meal if Tucker did not find meat.

  When he returned with fish, she set a spit to cook them over the open fire. Later they split open the sotol bulb, peeling away the scorched and blackened exterior to get at the layers of fruit circling the core like that of an onion. Blowing on their fingers, they ate the particles of hot, sweet-tasting food.

  “It isn’t something I’d go out of my way to get,” Tucker admitted, “but it’s filling.”

  That, the fish, and the coffee satisfied their hunger, leaving enough for tomorrow. After eating, they laid out their blankets, determined to get a good night’s sleep in order to get an early start.

  In spite of her growing excitement, Raven willed herself to concentrate on her goal. Tonight she refused to have any fears or worries. She refused to think about Tucker or tomorrow.

  Success meant buying the land for her people. Success meant Tucker could have his ranch in Oregon. Failure meant that the Arapaho would have to go to the reservation and Tucker would have no reason to go far away.