The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress (5 page)

The thought of Hoodoo Lemoyne, the crippled man who lived at Raven's mountain cabin, while he tracked notorious criminals, made him grin. Raven hadn't been able to get rid of that chattering Cajun any easier than he'd gotten rid of Eva.

Raven just sort of inherited the gabby older man who had been his father's acquaintance. In addition, Raven thought, now he had a pretend wife and she had more grit and gumption than most men he knew.

Raven blew out his breath, shook off the cold water and dressed hurriedly. He hiked to the barn to watch the stage attendants trot out fresh horses. He glanced around the stalls but there wasn't a chestnut gelding in sight.

“Did you happen to see the man who left the carriage behind the station?” he inquired.

“No,” the first worker replied. “I showed up for work this morning at seven and the buggy was already here.”

“Same for me,” the second man chimed in. “You might ask the station owner. He's around all the time.”

The first worker surveyed Raven's attire. “You're Raven the bounty hunter, aren't you?”

He nodded.

“Heard of you,” the man murmured. “Congratulations on your marriage. Your wife is one of the prettiest females I've ever laid eyes on. You must be proud.”

Raven was no such thing. He was baffled by the newfound respect he'd acquired because of his association with Eva. The uncharacteristic chattiness from men who usually ignored him was difficult to grow accustomed to. Raven glanced toward the doorway of the station house where Eva was deep in conversation with the potbellied owner, who was only a few inches taller than she was.

“She's the prettiest female I ever laid eyes on, too,” he admitted.

“How'd you meet her, if you don't mind my asking?” the second attendant said interestedly.

Raven smiled in wry amusement. “A young kid, a mutual friend, introduced us.”

He pivoted around to amble toward Eva. He was ten feet away from her when the report of a rifle echoed around the rugged canyon walls overlooking the stage station. Raven reacted instantly. He lunged forward to hook his arm around Eva, forcing her to roll across the ground with him. The stage station owner yelped and leaped backward when the bullet whistled over their heads and thudded into the water barrel outside the door. Water dribbled into the dirt, leaving a puddle that could easily have been Eva's blood.

While Raven lay atop Eva, her lush body melded familiarly to his, she gaped at him in astonishment. He was surprised to note that curiosity, not fear, flickered in her chocolate-brown eyes.

“Here's another reason why being married to me is unwise. It puts you in harm's way,” he murmured against her ear. “Criminals dislike me and so do their vindictive kinfolk. I might as well have a bull's-eye painted on my back.”

“How do you know that someone is shooting at you and not at me?” she retorted. “It could be Gordon. The stationmaster informed me that late last night he bought the buggy from a man who matches Gordon's description. He bought a saddle and rode off on Lydia's horse. Gordon would recognize me easily and I predict he would be anxious to have me off his trail.”

Raven rolled sideways then pulled Eva up beside him. He kept her protectively behind him while he scanned the towering peaks that were rife with hiding places behind rocks and trees. Wherever the sniper was lurking, Raven couldn't locate him. What's more, it disturbed him to no end that he'd been so distracted and preoccupied with Eva that he wasn't as attuned to his surroundings as he usually was.

She was a liability he could ill afford. The sooner they parted company the better for both of them, he told himself.

“You okay, ma'am?” the driver questioned—and Raven was quick to note the smell of whiskey on George's breath.

Eva adjusted her cockeyed hat and smiled reassuringly at George. “I'm fine,” she insisted as she dusted herself off.

“This is one of the drawbacks of marrying a man who has a target on his back,” the driver slurred. “Somebody's always gunning for him, I reckon.”

“Then I'll have to take extra good care of J.D., won't I?” she murmured as she stared adoringly at him.

Raven studied her blankly. He couldn't recall anyone offering to take care of him. A moment later, he remembered that her comment was part of her act and he shrugged off the pleased sensation that had no business taking root.

“Are we going to be ambushed again?” Delbert Barnes asked warily as he readjusted his drooping spectacles. “I haven't begun my new job and I could be dead before I start.”

“Relax, Delbert,” Raven said he as brushed off his buckskin breeches and black shirt. “Stay inside each station along the way or in the coach and you'll be just fine.”

Flustered, the little man fidgeted from one foot to the other, glanced apprehensively toward the stony peaks of the mountains then dashed headlong toward the coach.

Raven had expected a reaction like that from Eva. She, however, was amazingly unruffled by her near brush with disaster. Another blossom of admiration unfurled inside him as he watched his pretend wife walk purposely toward the stagecoach. She halted halfway then turned to wait for him to catch up.

“Surely you aren't going to pick a fight with me so soon after I was nearly gunned down, are you?” she murmured as he strode up beside her.

“No, but I'm leaving eventually so don't think I've changed my mind,” he said gruffly.

An impish grin spread across her bewitching face. “Of course not. I'm your proverbial pain in the ass.”

“Exactly right and don't you forget it.”

And he better not, either.

His tone wasn't as sharp as it should have been, not if he hoped to convince her that he considered her a nuisance. To his dismay, she noticed the lack of intensity in his voice and looked excessively pleased with herself.

“Help me into the coach, will you, darling? Being knocked off my feet during the ambush affected me more than I first thought. I feel a bit shaky.”

Shaky? This ironclad daisy? Ha! Nothing shook her up that he could tell. Not his terse rejection, his intimidating threats or flying bullets. Raven gave his head a marveling shake as he assisted his wife into the coach.

Wife?
The word rang through his mind like a clanging gong. She was not his wife and she never would be, he reminded himself realistically. Let her have her fun while it lasted. By nightfall, he'd be long gone and she could track Gordon by whatever means available—as long as it didn't include him.

Raven continued to chant that mantra, even when she held his hand and smiled up at him so sweetly during the next leg of the journey. Eva? Sweet? He chastised himself for getting soft when she poured on the feminine charm. He didn't want to warm up to her. But when he stared at her enchanting face and gazed into those twinkling brown eyes he knew she was getting to him. He'd better put a stop to it quickly if he knew what was good for him.

 

“Damn, I knew she'd come after me.” Gordon Carter spewed a string of foul expletives as he watched Evangeline and her brawny bodyguard pile into the stagecoach.

He'd botched the perfect opportunity to remove that female thorn in his side…permanently. But his aim had been slightly off the mark. Now, instead of disappearing for a few months to live on the money he'd swiped from Lydia, he had to deal with Eva breathing down his neck.

Gordon had expected as much from that willful woman, which is why he went to roost in the rocky terrain near the line of stage stations that flanked the mountains. He hadn't considered that she would hire that half-breed bounty hunter called Raven to help track him down. Gordon knew he had to strike suddenly and quickly because getting hold of Eva and making it look as if she had an untimely accident had just become more difficult than he originally planned.

Scowling, he tugged on the reins and led his confiscated horse along the mountain trail. Too bad he hadn't been able to resolve his problem with one well-aimed shot, he mused sourly. Next time, however, he'd take his time and make the bullets count. On that cheering thought, he mounted the chestnut gelding and trotted off.

 

“In all the excitement of the ambush I forgot to ask if you gathered any information about the man who stole your sister's carriage,” Raven whispered in Eva's ear five miles down the road. “And no, the attendants haven't seen the horse named Hodge that you described to me.”

“That's because Gordon rode off on Hodge last night, after selling the buggy to the stationmaster and buying a saddle,” she murmured against his bearded jaw. “I bought back the buggy, of course.”

“If you leave it sitting where it is for too long the owner might sell it twice,” he warned.

“That's why I left a message to be delivered home so my friend can pick it up.” She squirmed to find a more comfortable position in the cramped space. There wasn't one.

Raven smirked. “What if the agent isn't honest enough to forward the message? Let me tell you something, sugar. You won't get far in this world if you're too trusting. Cheaters, backstabbers and liars are as thick as mosquitoes.”

Eva stared pensively at him. Cynical and wary though she had become—after dealing with a long line of gold diggers who tried to smooth-talk her out of her inheritance—she couldn't hold a candle to this bounty hunter. No doubt, chasing bloodthirsty renegades distorted his perception of everyone.

Taking into account Raven's mixed heritage, she suspected he had encountered racism, bigotry, brutality and who knew what else. The scars on his back indicated that he'd endured difficult times and he'd lost his faith in humanity. Raven had become isolated because of his Native background and insulated by his indifference to other people's opinion of him.

As much as she wanted to probe into Raven's past to understand what made him the hard-edged, mistrusting man he was, this wasn't the time or place. In the coach, whispering in his ear was the extent of the privacy between them. And so, she scrunched down the way Raven had and closed her eyes to catch up on the sleep she'd lost while making last-minute arrangements for this trip.

A
n hour later, someone poked Eva on the shoulder. Groggily she opened her eyes, shocked to find her head on Raven's chest and her hand flung across his abdomen. She nearly recoiled to sit upright but she remembered she was playing a charade. Cuddling up to her supposed husband wouldn't be considered improper.

A shiver of unexpected pleasure riveted her when Raven's warm breath caressed her neck. “Better move your hand off my lap before you embarrass both of us. I'm going to need a cold bath if you plan to sprawl all over me until lunch. Good thing the relay station is up ahead.”

Heat suffused her face. She shifted her hand and arm then levered herself upright as casually as she knew how. The fact that she felt innately secure and comfortable with Raven disturbed her. She supposed that since he was straightforward and assured her that he considered her a nuisance she wasn't as leery of his intentions. She couldn't say the same for the men who moved in her social circle, however. They told her what they presumed she wanted to hear to draw her interest. They relied on effusive flattery to win her affection.

That wasn't a problem with Raven.

How refreshing to encounter a man who wanted her out of his hair rather than schemed to part her from her fortune, she mused as she silently appraised him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked warily.

She cast him a drowsy smile. “Because I'm only half-awake. I'll be my old self in a few minutes.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he murmured against her ear, causing a stream of unwanted tingles to trickle through her.

She ignored the taunt and the arousing sensation by focusing on the landscape outside the window. The stage route skirted the fissured mountain range, providing a scenic view of craggy precipices bracketed by rugged ridges and mesas. Some of the towering summits were snow-capped while others were a tumbling cascade of boulders. There were also peaks that stood like green-clad soldiers barricading the entrance to the wilderness. Colorful wildflowers between crests waved in the breeze, making Eva wish she had time for exploring.

She had made an excursion into the mountains two years earlier with Roger and Sadie Philbert. The invigorating climb and panoramic views had captivated her. Although the Philberts decided one strenuous adventure into the wilderness was enough for them, Eva had enjoyed the rugged beauty and the challenge.

The trip reminded her of the hikes she'd made with her father when she was a child. Hoping her sister would delight in the experience, Eva had hired a guide to take her and Lydia on a short jaunt the previous year. Lydia also decided that city life appealed to her more than roughing it in the mountains. She had announced that Eva would have to make her next excursion alone. And here Eva was, striking off to overtake that slimy weasel Gordon.

Her thoughts trailed off when George Knott shouted out that they were near the rest stop at the base of the looming cliff. She noticed Raven had come to alert attention and he was the first to step down from the coach. Like a great cat scanning the terrain, he searched for signs of trouble before pivoting to help her down.

Eva tried to control the baffling tingles she experienced when his hands encircled her waist. Erotic speculations ricocheted around her mind as her body brushed suggestively against his masculine contours.

“We'll be here 'bout fifteen minutes to check the undercarriage. A brisk walk is usually a good idea to get circulation goin' again,” George suggested in a slurred voice.

While two scraggly-looking attendants hunkered down to check the wheels, hubs and carriage sling, Raven grasped her hand and veered away from the other passengers, who stretched this way and that to work kinks from their necks and backs.

“You're being extremely careful, I see,” she said as he zigzagged in and out of the pines and cottonwoods that lined the narrow creek.

“I don't want you hurt because of me,” he insisted. “Besides, it makes me look bad if I can't protect my own wife.” He halted abruptly then spun to face her. “I've been thinking it over for an hour and I've decided you should go home on the next stage that comes through here.”

She stared disparagingly at him. “Just because I'm pretending to be your wife, don't think you can tell me what to do, Jo-Dan.”

“Don't call me that,” he said and scowled.

“Don't tell me to go home,” she countered. “I'm going to find that lowdown, good-for-nothing swindler and recover the horse and every red cent he stole from Lydia.”

“How many red cents are we talking about?”

“Doesn't matter.” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “It's the principle of the matter.”

Raven barked a laugh. “You're in the wrong neck of the woods to avenge your strong sense of fair play to your personal satisfaction. I can tell you from experience that life isn't a damn bit fair. If you don't believe it, ask the Cheyenne people whom Colonel Chivington massacred at Sand Creek in Colorado, and then suffered through George Custer's ambush on the Washita River in Indian Territory.”

Eva grimaced at the thought of Raven's family encountering such a disastrous fate. She remembered reading about the Sand Creek Massacre investigation. Her private tutor had described it as one of the most brutal and insensitive crimes in the country.

“Were you there?” she asked gently.

He nodded abruptly. “I was twelve years old when Chivington and his soldiers killed my mother, uncle and all of my cousins except one,” he said in a grim voice. “Blackowl and I survived by pretending to have drowned. We floated facedown in the stream until the soldiers passed. Then we came ashore to confiscate a horse. We headed for cover in the mountains and then took refuge with a band of Utes.”

“I lost my mother to illness when I was five and my father died when I was sixteen,” she confided. “But I cannot fathom how awful it would be to endure a cruel massacre that senselessly took your family from you.”

“It was hell,” Raven muttered as he stared at the towering precipices. “Two years later I located my father at the trading rendezvous near Pine Crest. He thought I had perished, too. In the meantime, he'd married a white women and settled into town life. Although I wasn't accepted into polite society more readily than I am now, my father was determined to indoctrinate me into white culture.” He pulled a face. “It didn't help that I inherited a racist stepbrother who made my life miserable. When my father died, I cleared out. At eighteen I hired on to ride shotgun for coaches and express trains before venturing out on my own.”

“But you never used your impressive skills to scout for renegades for the army,” she presumed.

“Hell no,” he grumbled. “Soldiers in uniforms bring back too many bitter memories. I'll be damned if I'll help them track runaway warriors from other tribes so they can herd them like cattle to those hated reservations.”

To say that Raven harbored hard feelings was an understatement. Not that she blamed him. She was still bitter about being used by Felix Winslow, who professed to love her until his dying day…and discarded her for another woman so fast it made her head spin. So who was she to pass judgment?

“Stay here.” Raven drew a peacemaker from his holster then pressed it into her hand. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Sort of,” she hedged.

“You can always use it as a club if you're desperate,” he suggested before he slinked away.

“Where—?”

She compressed her lips when Raven disappeared into the bushes. She glanced around, wondering what his trained senses had seen or heard that she had missed. Then, in the near distance, she heard the thud of retreating hoof-beats. A moment later Raven appeared, swearing in what she presumed to be the Cheyenne language.

“Did you see who it was?” she asked as he approached.

“No. Which is all the more reason for you to wait at this station to catch the returning stage.”

“I made it perfectly clear that I'm not abandoning my mission,” she retorted sternly.

“How many more times do I have to win this argument?” he shot back. “Any association with me puts you in danger. How do you think you're going to avenge your kid sister if you're dead or worse?”

“What's worse than dead?” she said, smirking.

“Don't ask.” He clutched her hand to lead her down to the creek for another refreshing drink from a spring-fed stream.

Eva had the unmistakable feeling that Raven had seen the worst humankind could do to one another. In comparison to his exploits, she was hopelessly sheltered and naive. Nevertheless, her fierce sense of justice and her devotion to her sister refused to let her give up when the going got a mite tough. She would see this through, whether Raven approved or not—which he obviously didn't.

“All right, how about a compromise,” Raven suggested as he reclaimed the pistol so she could sip water with her cupped hands. “You go home and I'll track this Carter character after I've trained a dependable saddle horse. Give me two weeks to work with a green-broke mount then I'll search for Carter.”

“In two weeks Gordon could be anywhere,” she argued. “Even out of the state if he's so inclined. I don't have to tell you that cold trails are difficult to follow. Gordon is obviously in the area because he sold the carriage just last night. If he heads for the hills there are but three mining camps in the area called Devil's Triangle for me to search. I intend to visit Purgatory Gulch, Satan's Bluff and Hell's Corner before I give up and go home.”

“If you think that claiming to be my wife, while you tramp around in those rowdy camps, is going to keep you safe then you're sadly mistaken,” Raven said harshly. “Some of those men working claims haven't seen a woman in months. Years maybe. Don't expect the polite consideration you're accustomed to in civilization. There are no laws and no rules, except survival of the strongest and you'd be an easy mark.”

She knew he was trying his damnedest to impress upon her the danger she might face, but she wanted to apprehend Gordon so badly that it was an obsession.

Besides, she had vowed to her father on his deathbed that she'd protect Lydia. She had failed miserably. And because she hadn't sought revenge on Felix Winslow for hurting her, she wanted to make an example of Gordon to compensate for her ill feelings toward the conniving con men of the world.

“I can take care of myself,” she assured Raven.

His reply was a contradicting snort.

“I can hold my own with you, can't I? I'm not afraid of you, Raven. Fear is not the feeling tormenting me.”

Compelled by some emotion she refused to name or delve into too deeply, she framed his bearded face with her hands. His catlike eyes glowed as she drew his head to hers. When her lips touched his mouth experimentally, she realized she'd wanted to taste him since…Well, she couldn't remember precisely when the forbidden craving began, but the casual pecks she'd planted on his cheek and chin earlier today had only whetted her appetite.

Despite his stubborn refusal to assist her, in spite of their ongoing conflict and her solemn vow never to let a man matter to her again, she wanted something from this man that she craved from no one else.

Raven's kiss was surprisingly gentle and the taste of him urged her closer—as close as she'd been when she'd used his muscular body as a cushion during her nap on the stagecoach. As close as they had been when he sprawled on top of her to shield her from the flying bullet.

In this fanciful moment outside the realm of time and reality, in this secluded cove by the creek, Eva cast off her wary inhibitions and looped her arms around Raven's neck. She leaned into him, enjoying the feel of her body meshed against his masculine contours, marveling at the fact that she'd taken the initiative with a man for the first time in her life.

“You aren't playing fair and this is no way to win an argument,” Raven rasped after he broke the kiss. “Next thing I know you'll be offering me this lush body of yours if I'll take this assignment.”

She grinned at him, feeling oddly confident and comfortable in the circle of his brawny arms. “Would you take it? In addition to a premium rate for bounty?”

He smiled down at her, his fascinating eyes flickering with playful mischief. Eva felt her heart thud against her ribs and stick there momentarily, even when he said, “No, hellion, I told you that you are a pain in the ass.”

He angled his dark head and his gaze locked with hers as he took her mouth beneath his. His words were in direct contrast to the smoldering heat and hunger in his kiss.

Eva felt herself being swept up in the reckless moment. His arms contracted, lifting her off the ground. He pressed her against his hips as his tongue plunged between her lips. She felt his aroused flesh between her thighs and her body responded instantaneously. She couldn't get close enough to satisfy the burgeoning craving, couldn't kiss him hard enough or deeply enough to appease the white-hot need that suddenly burned her alive.

Sweet mercy! Where had all these wild, desperate feelings and sizzling sensations come from? Had she suppressed physical desire for too many years, in her effort to avoid the wiles and entrapments of cunning adventurers? And why did this man, who didn't particularly like her, have to be the one who inflamed her with incredible hunger?