Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance (27 page)

What she said made some kind of sense, Tucker decided. “And you’ll agree to that, Lawrence?”

“Certainly, Mr. Farrell. Whatever you say.”

“I say you’re a lucky man, meeting Raven. We both are.”

“Lucky? I like that,” Lawrence said. “What would you think about calling me that? Lucky Small. No, not Small. If I’m going to change it, let’s go all the way. What about Smith. Lucky Smith, that’s a Western name, isn’t it?”

“Lucky Smith it is,” Tucker agreed. “And we can use another gun. Three people are better than two. All right, it’s a deal. But you have to keep up. We don’t wait and we don’t take the easy way.”

“By the way, Lucky,” Raven added, “there’s something
else you should know. We don’t know where the treasure is.”

“If we never find it, I hope you won’t be disappointed, partner,” Tucker said.

“Not unless you’re disappointed by my confession,” Lucky said. “You’ll have to show me how to fire the rifle. I’ve never used one in my life.”

Tucker bit back a groan. “Didn’t your father believe in teaching you to defend yourself?”

“Yes, but my mother didn’t like firearms. The only thing I’m good at is fencing, and I don’t think the bad guys out here know a foil from a fencepost.”

It was hard sleeping next to Raven and not holding her in his arms. In fact, it was damned impossible. Once he knew that Lucky was sleeping soundly, Tucker rose and led Raven away from the campfire to the meadow where they’d seen the butterflies that afternoon.

“What are you doing, Tucker?”

He drew her down to the grassy carpet and lay over her, his elbows supporting his weight. “I’m just going to kiss you good night. You may welcome Lucky into our camp, but I don’t.”

“I don’t think you have anything to be concerned about. He’s a very sound sleeper.”

Tucker toyed with a strand of hair that had escaped her braid. What was he doing? A grown man, sneaking a woman off into the night.

“How do you know that?” His voice was more ruthless than he’d intended. She’d turned to face him, her hands sliding up his back, digging into the fabric of his denim shirt while she was adjusting her body beneath him.

“Because,” she said breathlessly, “while you were bedding down the horses, he made a big point of telling me.”

“And I don’t suppose you intended to share that with me?”

“Of course I did. You never gave me a chance.”

And then he was kissing her, his tongue seeking the sweetness of her mouth. He rolled away from her for a moment and lifted her dress high enough to reach her bare breasts. For several moments he traced the shape of her body as if he’d never touched it before.

Then his shirt was unbuttoned and their bodies were touching, bare skin against bare skin, heat against heat.

“Raven, this is unbelievable. It’s crazy,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t let me do this. I shouldn’t be touching you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re meant for more than this, more than just being Tucker Farrell’s—”

“Woman? Why?”

“But what about your people, the treasure, your destiny?”

For tonight she was beyond caring about anything but this time, this moment. “Tucker, shut up!” When she touched the bulge in his trousers, he sucked in a breath and followed orders.

He never wanted to stop. He didn’t even try. The only treasure he wanted was the one he held in his arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me what Lucky said about being a deep sleeper?” Tucker asked later.

“I waited to see what you would do.”

“I might have waited too. But I was too eager to touch you again, more eager than you,” he said, knowing he shouldn’t have let himself love her again.

“Are you sure?”

She turned toward him, throwing her leg over his muscular thighs, pulling herself half on top of him. She was sure he’d been mistaken about who was the most eager.
Then her exploring hand found the part of him that was standing ready to disagree.

But disagreeing wasn’t nearly so much fun as agreeing. She slid over him, taking him inside her body. Gasping from the sheer pleasure of the act, she held back the truth. She was just as eager, but she’d save that bit of information until a time when she wasn’t learning about fire and eruptions.

Later, as they watched the stars twinkling overhead, Raven let out a deep sigh of pleasure. “Is it always like this, Tucker?”

“I hope so,” he said softly. “And I hope we spend a very long time proving it.”

“So do I.” She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes in sleep.

Finally, just before the dawn broke, Tucker pulled a sleepy Raven into his arms and carried her back to camp. He didn’t have to hear the exaggerated snoring to know that Lucky had heard their return.

This time he lay down on the blanket and pulled it over them, continuing to hold Raven in his arms.

She was his and he was staking his claim. Nobody would know yet, except Lucky. But Tucker knew and that was enough.

The next morning they started up the valley, following the stream and focusing on the peak where they’d seen the curious slants of light. A band of butterflies danced across the sunshine, as if they were as curious about the travelers as the riders were about them.

“My goodness,” Lucky observed, “there are a lot of those big beauties, aren’t there?”

Raven held out her hand, upon which one very large golden pair of wings settled down. “Tucker says that this
valley is probably where they spend their winters. We saw a great many of them flying north yesterday.”

“Too bad I didn’t bring my paints. It would make quite a picture, all this color.”

Raven rotated her hand and the butterfly flew away. “You paint, Lucky?”

He blushed. “I used to. But the only artwork that a newspaper uses is pen-and-ink drawings, and I’m not very good at that. I just try to catch the feel of a thing. The exact mechanics don’t always signify.”

“Beauty of the spirit is always harder to express than fact,” Raven agreed. “Just look at this place, hidden here for centuries. There is something powerful in knowing that you feel what you see. One day you’ll understand what I’m saying.”

“In the meantime,” Lucky observed philosophically, “the butterflies are our symbols of purity of purpose. I believe they mean that nature approves of what we’re doing.”

Raven watched him bouncing about on the burro’s back and wondered at that idea. For now she had to agree.

It quickly became obvious that Lucky’s attempts at riding Jonah were pitiful. Allowing him to walk and pull the animal slowed the two horses down and made the burro frantic. Tucker was convinced that having the newspaperman along would be a hindrance, but he hadn’t thought about this kind of problem.

“The only way this is going to work,” Tucker finally said, “is for you to ride with me on Yank and let Lucky ride Onawa. Will she allow that?” he asked Raven.

Raven sat quietly for a moment, then nodded. “She will.”

Tucker turned to Lucky. “Can you ride a horse?”

“Of course. I had two years of riding lessons. Though I haven’t done a great deal of it. Usually I take a buggy.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Raven said comfortingly. “Onawa will take care of you.”

Jonah, happy to be rider-free, darted happily between the two horses and danced alongside.

Raven wasn’t certain that her best interests were served by planting her body against Tucker’s, but once the changes were made, the journey moved faster. She liked being in Tucker’s arms, but it was disturbing all the same.

Her body’s memories were vivid and she longed for the intimacy of the night before. Not once in her past could she recall hearing anyone describe the feelings between a man and a woman the way she felt about Tucker. Because she had grown up without a mother, these relationships were shrouded in mystery for her.

Of course, there’d been the coming-of-age celebrations in the Indian village, when the young Indian maids and boys danced together, choosing their partners amidst giggles and secret meetings. But even then she’d remained aloof.

Until now.

Happily she leaned back against Tucker and glanced up at him. “Do you think we’ll find it today?” she asked.

For a moment Tucker was completely nonplussed. “Find it?”

“The treasure. Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

Tucker was no longer certain what they were doing. He was awash in sensations that he’d managed to ignore successfully for most of the last twelve years: desire, emotion, a state of constant arousal that no amount of making love seemed to dissipate.

“What makes you think the treasure is here?” Lucky asked.

“We—we don’t know. But there were several signs that made us think that the location is up there.”

Tucker indicated the mountains beyond the upper bowl edge of the valley.

“ ‘Up there’ covers a lot of territory,” Lucky observed. “Can’t you be a bit more specific?”

“Not yet,” Raven answered, wishing they could. “When we get there, we’ll know. Until then we’ll just enjoy the ride.”

“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.