Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance (6 page)

Yank moved restlessly.

Raven looked up the trail at him and put a finger of silence to her mouth.

“What was that, Porfiro?” the sidekick asked anxiously.

“Some kind of bird, Juan. Let’s go on.”

“A bird?” The fear in the first man’s voice was contagious. The others began to whisper.

“Just a little hummingbird, you fool. Are you going to let a sound stop us from finding the treasure? Not Porfiro. I will be rich.”

“I do not fear the hummingbird,” Juan answered. “It is the black birds. Look, one follows us. I am worried. Let us leave this place before dark.”

More animated discussion followed, then the men moved off down the trail, quietly now, as if listening.

Raven held Onawa still for a long time. The sound of a loose pebble could travel in the canyon, sometimes bouncing off the walls in an echo that was louder than the original. Finally she nudged the horse forward, making sure Tucker followed.

The Mexican bandits had clearly been in search of another man besides Tucker. In fact, they’d made it sound as if the two men were partners. And they’d mentioned a treasure. That thought filled Raven’s heart with dread. She knew that Tucker was meant to take her to the keeper of the mountain, but now someone else seemed to know it too.

Another half hour passed before the sound of rushing water reached Tucker’s ears. Never a man to make trouble where there was none, he’d hidden his anxiety by focusing on the mysterious woman in front of him, wondering how she’d taste, how she’d feel in his arms. He had lulled himself into a dreamlike state by the time Yank threaded his way through the rocks and stepped out onto the sandy bar along the river.

The horses moved swiftly toward the water. “No! Wait!” Raven drew Onawa to a sudden stop. Yank, close
behind her, lowered his head and halted abruptly in his favorite trick of trying to dislodge Tucker.

“Not this time, you bag of bones.” Tucker slid off the horse to the ground. But he hadn’t counted on Yank’s continued obstinacy. The Reb might try, but the big horse, determined to have the last word, lowered his head and butted Tucker forward, depositing him in the shallow waters of the Rio Grande.

“Christ!” he roared, reaching for his hat as it skittered out of reach and started a merry rush downstream. “What in the west side of hell is wrong with you, horse?”

The animal merely tossed his head and waited.

Raven smothered a grin as she climbed down and led both animals to the water. She knelt down to drink, then sat back and studied the soft sand. She had to remain calm and give her mind a chance to understand. Sooner or later the spirits would speak to her. Uncertain, she started up the canyon, feeling the vibrant aura of the ground.

She concentrated on the power that propelled her, stronger now. Someone had been there before them, perhaps the night before. Someone who’d been wounded. The path of his blood was only just visible in the slightly pink sand. Was that how the bandits had followed the trail? No, if the rain had washed most of the blood from the sand, it would have cleansed the rocky surface they had traveled.

She heard Tucker splash out of the water behind her. She turned and watched him plant his wet Stetson on his head. He wiped the beads of water streaming down his face with the bandanna he’d worn around his neck.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Who? Where’s who?”

“The man you were traveling with.”

Tucker blinked, then with an exaggerated motion,
wiped the water from his ears. “What man? I may have hit my head, but I know I was alone—that is, until you came along.”

“Whoever he is, he’s hurt.” She studied the shadows along the eastern side of the canyon. “And he’s hiding somewhere nearby, I think.”

“How can you tell?” Tucker asked, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to know. The only man he knew to be hurt was the old prospector, and being in the same place with a man holding the secret to a treasure was not a healthy place to be at that moment.

What he ought to do was get some rest, follow the river back to Colorado, and keep on going west. He’d heard that Oregon was opening up. Good horse country there. If he could come up with a stake, he could raise horses, cattle maybe.

Cattle were a damned sight better than the pigs being raised on his father’s plantation back home. And it was time he stopped drifting.

“Tucker, the men who were following us went on past, but we don’t know that the trail won’t lead them to a place where we can be seen. I think we’d better find your partner before they come back.”

“He’s not my partner.” Tucker picked up Yank’s reins and followed the woman, who seemed to be reading some kind of map in the sand. “I never saw him before he came into the cantina yesterday to play poker.”

“I see. And what about the treasure those men are after?”

“Don’t know a thing about a treasure. Don’t know who the old man was or where he came from. I just didn’t like those
pistoleros
shooting somebody who was just reaching for a piece of paper.”

She reached the canyon wall and stood, closing her
eyes, as if waiting for something to direct her steps, until they heard a low moan.

“Here, Tucker, he’s in here.”

Behind a boulder in a shallow recess lay the old man, crumpled, pale, afraid.

Until he saw Tucker.

“Señor.” He smiled in recognition. “The sunlight you bring with you is bright. For a moment I could not see.”

“It’s you.” Tucker knelt beside him. “I thought you got away.”

“No. In spite of your help, I’m afraid the bullet was more lethal than I thought. I have lost much blood. I was a foolish old man and now I will die.”

“Nonsense. You just got a nick in the shoulder. I’ve had worse. Let me have a look.”

“Luce,” he reminded Tucker again. “My name is Luce Santiago.”

Tucker glanced at the wound and confirmed what he already suspected. It was bad. If the man weren’t so old, if he hadn’t ridden all night, maybe the story would be different.

Tucker glanced around the harsh confines of the area with a sinking heart. The old man was going to die. Tucker couldn’t see a damned thing they could do about it. He looked at Raven, but she was staring at the old miner as if she’d seen a ghost.

“We’ll build a fire and get you warm,” he began.

“No—no, you must take me home. I must not die before I reach the place where I am to be buried.” He turned to Raven as if he’d just noticed her presence. “Yes,” he whispered. “It is you for whom I have waited. You must see that I am properly buried, daughter of the moon.”

Raven nodded slowly. She could see the smoky veil of death surrounding him. And she understood that he
was the guardian she’d been sent to find. Tucker had brought her to him. Three wounded strangers had come together. Each had their part to play.

“Where are you to be buried, old man?” Tucker asked.

“At the barren base of the sacred mountain where the sun and the moon meet.”

“Where the light of the moon meets the light of the sun,” she whispered. Grandfather’s words to her, the location of the treasure.

But Luce didn’t answer. He’d closed his eyes.

Raven turned to Tucker, this time with a stern expression on her face that boded no good. “Do you, too, look for the sacred mountain that hides the treasure?”

“Lady, I don’t know anything about any treasure.”

“Then how do you account for this?” She slipped her fingers beneath her dress and drew out the gold watch fob and the nuggets.

“I forgot about them. I’ll be damned.”

“Most likely,” Raven agreed, skepticism written across her stoic face.

“The old man bet with them in the poker game.” That’s what had started all the trouble, Tucker thought. “I was going to return them.”

“Don’t deny that you would like to share in the treasure. I wouldn’t believe you.”

Tucker turned guilty eyes toward his Indian companion. He hadn’t considered it before, not consciously, but he could use the gold to buy land, to start his ranch. “This is where you were coming all along, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I was sent by the Grandfather, Flying Cloud, to find the sacred treasure of the Arapaho.”

“And what makes you think it belongs to your people?” Tucker asked.

“It belongs to the Ancient Ones,” the injured man said without opening his eyes. “You will be the keepers of
the treasure. But know this, Mother Earth jealously guards that which has been entrusted to her. Your hearts must be pure.”

Raven nodded. “Yes, Tucker. It was meant to be. You will help me find my people’s treasure, and I will share it with you. Will you do it?”

Here it was, commitment, the future he’d avoided, the tomorrow he’d never expected to have, being offered to him. It was time to see the bet or fold. And suddenly he knew he couldn’t drift anymore. Spirit woman or not, some power stronger than he had stepped in and forced his hand.

He gave a wry laugh. “What else do I have to do? It’s a deal.” Tucker almost reached for her. He had a strong desire to seal their bargain with a kiss. But he knew the occasion was much too solemn for that. A cowboy didn’t kiss a spirit woman. He only returned her nod of acceptance.

From behind them came the weak voice of Luce. “I pray you, beware the bronze man. Beware the dagger!”

Treasure
.

Tucker studied the woman and Luce, wondering what in hell he had gotten himself into. If there actually was a treasure, and if they found it, the possibilities were endless. But he’d never been much of a gambler. What he could be holding here was the Dead Man’s Hand. Thieves, a spirit woman, a dying old man, and he had to add himself, a fool. He could end up dead, just like Wild Bill Hickok had in Deadwood last year.

The other cardplayers never knew what Wild Bill’s mystery card was. He had been shot before it could be revealed. But Tucker knew his; it was his spirit woman. And the cause of his death wouldn’t be a shot in the back, like Hickok. His cause was staring straight at him.

“Listen, Raven,” he began. “I don’t know if you really believe all this treasure business, but you’ve put your life in danger by teaming up with me and Luce. I’d take you back to the nearest American settlement, but I don’t think the old man would make it. And I’m not sure we’d get past the bandits.”

“Thank you, but I can’t go back. If I die, then it was meant to be.”

“Why is it that every time you speak, I wait for thunder to roll and lightning to flash?” His question came out more like a threat, and he knew his tightly leashed fury frightened her. But she straightened her shoulders and jutted out her chin.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I’m sorry I make you angry.”

“You don’t make me angry. You make me—”
crazy, wild
, he would have said. “Damn it, Raven, you shouldn’t go around trusting strangers.”

“But you’re not a stranger. You’re part of my—my totem. You’re the cougar in my dream. Your animal power is one with mine. Grandfather said it would be so.”

Tucker reached out and caught her arm before he realized what he was doing. “I’d like to speak with your grandfather. It seems to me that he did a whole lot of talking without knowing what he was setting you up for.”

Raven’s face went white. “Grandfather is dead. Just like the rest of the Arapaho if I don’t find the treasure.”

“And suppose you do, what then?”

“I’ll buy land so that they won’t have to live on a reservation. So they won’t have to depend on the government.”

Tucker didn’t know what to say to that. He had his doubts that the American government would allow the Indians to buy land, but then, they would probably find a way to stop him from getting his ranch too. “This whole treasure-hunting idea is dangerous,” he said. “Don’t you understand that bandits are chasing this old man,
pistoleros
who will torture him for his knowledge? Then they’ll kill you, but only after they’ve done—terrible things to you.”

She shook her head slowly. “No. You will protect me—and Luce.”

Tucker groaned. He had to get through to her. He
was no saint, even if he wanted to be. “Raven, even I’m not that good a fighter.”

“Please.” She laid her hand over his. “You’re wrong about yourself. This is the way it is meant to be. Alone we are weak, at the mercy of evil. But we’ve come together here, in this place, to accomplish our goals—together.”

Together
? This time Tucker swallowed his oath. Long ago, when he’d returned from the war and found the life he’d fought for gone, he’d accepted that fate played interesting games with a man’s life. If he hadn’t been certain then, he’d had that knowledge brought to life forever when he’d watched soldiers call innocent women and children savages and slaughter them in the name of good.

But all this was too much for a drifter like him. He didn’t understand what was happening, and he didn’t want to. If it meant dying, Tucker didn’t want the treasure; the ranch was only a dream.

But he was a sucker for dark eyes and wounded old men. And, he told himself as he walked Yank over to Luce, he’d get Luce home to die. That was the honorable thing to do. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he still had a tiny, stubborn sliver of honor.