The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress (6 page)

Eva's head was still spinning like a windmill when Raven suddenly set her to her feet and stepped away. He stared at her as if she were insane. Or he was. Then his thick brows bunched over his green-gold eyes and he scowled at her.

“You
are
trying to seduce me into taking this assignment, aren't you? Damn it, Eva!”

She puffed up with offended dignity. “I did no such thing! You're the one who tried to lure me into your bed last night.” Shame and anger flooded her cheeks. “I can't begin to explain why I thought it was a good idea to kiss you. It was foolish and reckless and I don't care if you strike off to train a blasted horse while I track Gordon myself. No matter what, I will get the job done!”

Furious with herself for her lapse of good judgment—and feeling incredibly self-conscious to boot—she lurched around to hike back to the relay station. She must be out of her mind to be so attracted to a man who had no use for her whatsoever.

“Don't kiss me like that again,” he called after her.

“Don't worry, I won't,” she said over her shoulder.

Besides, she'd liked kissing him way too much and she would cut out her tongue before she admitted it to that infuriating man.

“Don't go haring off by yourself without paying attention to your surroundings,” Raven warned as she stamped off without so much as a backward glance.

Raven blew out his breath. He hadn't meant to pick a fight with Eva right now. Apparently, it came naturally for him. She made him feel reckless and vulnerable. Plus, she was as headstrong as he was, no doubt about that.

The more conflict between them, the better off he'd be. He wished he'd remembered that
before
he kissed her and discovered that she tasted like honey, smelled as fresh and wholesome as the whole outdoors…and felt like heaven in his arms.

Holy hell! Dealing with the scalding sensations she set off inside him was the last thing he needed to distract him while an unknown sniper lurked around. Already Eva had come dangerously close to being shot by a bullet meant for him.

He cringed at the thought of her being hurt or killed because of her association with him.

Marshal Doyle in Denver had warned him the Widow Flanders and Buster's family were hell-bent on revenge. Since that clan of ruffians was as thick as thieves, whomever she'd hired to gun him down must be taking the job seriously.

The fact that someone wanted him dead was nothing new. Besides, he faced danger on a daily basis. He had made peace with the prospect of his own demise after watching the massacre that had destroyed most of his Cheyenne family. But he was not prepared to claim responsibility for Eva's death.

He barely knew that firebrand but that didn't seem to matter. She provoked all sorts of intense sentiments and sensations that he usually had no difficulty controlling. But here she was, the picture of beauty and spirit, right in his face, right in his arms…and now she was the lingering taste on his lips.

The disturbing thought prompted him to take another sip of water, hoping to wash away her taste. It was a waste of time. And he had no idea how to erase the memory of her shapely body imprinted on his.

“Hell and damnation.” Raven expelled an exasperated breath then inhaled fresh air, hoping to clear his head and get his unruly male body under control.

He stood in the exact spot where he'd kissed Eva with wild desperation—and she had kissed him back the same way. When the memory and sensations tried to overpower him again, he focused his concentration on scanning the hillsides. He'd encountered enough precarious situations the past decade to sense trouble. And he definitely sensed trouble now. Hell, he could practically hear death rattles.

The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, prompting him to retreat into the pockets of shadows in the trees. He knew there was a narrow trail leading to the ridge to the west because he'd followed it as a child and had used it three years ago while searching for the drunken murderer wanted in Leadville.

Raven stared up the rocky slopes and noticed a flash of color among the trees. Someone was lying in wait. Thankfully, he hadn't become an easy target for another ambush attempt.

A horse nickered in the distance, confirming his suspicion. Raven jogged off when he heard the driver announce it was time to board the coach. He circled to step into the opposite side of the coach, convinced that he was being stalked and that he had been marked for death.

No one in the coach uttered a word when Eva piled onto the seat. She sat catty-corner to him and never once glanced in his direction. It was clear to everyone that she wasn't speaking to him.

“Lover's spat?” Frank Albers questioned as he rolled a silver dollar deftly over his fingers.

Apparently, Eva overheard because she looked over at Raven and held his gaze while he replied, “Just a difference of opinion. Now that I think about it, I was probably wrong.”

Frank snickered when he noticed the smile on Eva's lips. “A wise man once told me that if husbands knew how to say they were sorry and they were wrong, marriages would run smoother.” He winked at Raven. “You're halfway there.”

For the life of him, he didn't know why he'd bypassed the chance to fuel the anger that had sent Eva stamping off earlier. The only explanation was that he was turning into mush—all because of a beautiful but feisty female who couldn't possibly be more than a footnote in the chronicles of his hardscrabble life. Why should he care if Eva Whoever-she-was was annoyed with him? He shouldn't…

Then she smiled and those luminous brown eyes twinkled with inner spirit. He turned into a mindless sap and smiled back at her.

Raven was reasonably sure that goofy smile was still plastered on his face when a loud clap of thunder shook loose his stalled thoughts. He glanced through the window to see a thunderstorm skirting the mountains. The bank of gray clouds that had scraped the summits left a curtain of rain sweeping over the stagecoach. The driver cracked his whip over the team of horses, hoping to outrun the cloudburst.

Rather than huddling against the seat, Eva outstretched her hand to catch the oversize raindrops then she inhaled a deep breath of rain-scented air. Spellbound, Raven watched her tilt her face to the mist swirling around the window. A woman who embraced storms? What else did she like? he wondered.

Was she really the sister of the woman Gordon had betrayed? Or was
she
the woman scorned? There was also the possibility that she had been Gordon's accomplice and he had double-crossed her by riding off with the extorted money. Perhaps she wanted her cut and wasn't giving up until she found him.

Why wouldn't she divulge her last name? he wondered. That made him highly suspicious. He knew she wasn't telling him the whole story. He could sense it.

You're thinking too damn hard, Raven. Before long, you'll be gone and Eva will continue her crusade with or without you.

Raven glanced away, watching the curtain of rain sweep past the stagecoach then fizzle out as if it hadn't been there at all. If nothing else, the shower settled the dust. At best, the midday storm might have waylaid the unidentified bushwhacker. Better yet, he might slip and fall on the treacherous mountain trails. If he ended up at the bottom of a canyon, it would be one less thing for Raven to fret about.

Of course, that would be too easy. When had life been easy? Never that Raven could recall.

“Lunch will be served at the upcoming station!” George called down to the passengers. “Eat heartily, friends, because it will be a long ride before we stop for supper.”

Raven noted the slur in George's voice. Stage drivers were known to be heavy drinkers, he recalled. George had been tipping his stashed bottle all morning. That explained the bushy-haired man's daring when he'd asked how Raven possibly could have married a woman like Eva. He hadn't taken offense to the tactless question. It was obvious to everyone with eyes in his head that he and Eva didn't belong together.

When the coach clattered to a halt then lurched unexpectedly, Eva was catapulted into Delbert Barnes's lap. The bookkeeper grunted uncomfortably then hoisted her upright. Her stylish hat snagged on Delbert's jeweled stickpin and stuck there. Her coiffure came untangled and tumbled over the side of her face when Delbert tried to settle her back in the seat across from him.

“Goodness.” She leaned forward to retrieve her hat from Delbert's jacket and surveyed the two broken feathers that hung like limp antennas. “I should have worn a helmet.”

When she flung open the door, preparing to climb down without assistance, an eerie sensation—like another death rattle—overcame Raven. “No!” he yelled when she surged forward to place her foot on the step.

Eva's startled yelp was followed by the unmistakable sound of a whizzing bullet that thudded into the wall of the coach. The shot missed her head—and Delbert's shoulder—by a scant few inches.

“Get down and stay down!” Raven roared as he lunged over the passengers to grab the nape of Eva's dress and jerk her back inside.

Another gunshot whistled over Eva's head as Raven sent her sprawling on Delbert's lap again. Crawling over bodies, Raven somersaulted from the coach and came to his knees, firing both pistols in the direction of the shot.

“Run for it,” he barked at the startled passengers. “Use the coach and horses for cover and take Eva with you!”

Raven fired repeatedly while the passengers piled from the opposite side of the coach then scurried into the stage station. He cursed foully when he heard the clatter of hooves beating a hasty retreat on the rocky trail above the station.

Then and there, he decided that the sniper was ex-army or part Indian because of his guerilla fighting skills. He attacked and retreated before Raven could pinpoint his exact location and the sniper was on the move constantly. Which is exactly what Raven would have done if he were in the bushwhacking business. The only good news was that the sniper didn't have the unerring accuracy of a sharpshooter.

Scowling at the new complication he'd encountered, Raven stuffed his pistols into his holsters and strode inside. “This day just keeps getting worse,” he muttered to the world at large.

J
ames Archer jerked his horse to a halt and swore sourly. “Damn J. D. Raven to hell and back,” he sneered as he reloaded his Winchester.

He'd had several confrontations with Raven in the past and his hatred had festered as Widow Flanders's had. The opportunity to dispose of Raven was too good to pass up. He could have put an end to that half-breed bastard and his lady friend if he hadn't gotten trigger-happy and overanxious.

James had expected Raven to be the first one to climb down from the coach, not that auburn-haired chit in calico.

The horse James was riding whinnied—just as it had at the previous stage stop, alerting Raven to his presence on the hill. James glared mutinously at the horse then walloped it upside the head for spoiling the ambush attempt earlier. The horse danced skittishly and James yanked hard on the reins, causing the bit to dig deeply into the animal's tender mouth.

“I'll break you, you contrary beast,” he muttered then gouged his heels painfully into the horse's flanks.

The horse nickered again as it pranced on the stone path. James sneered impatiently then used the barrel of his rifle as a club on the horse's neck. Before the animal reared up and unseated him, he dug in his heels again—hard. He rode away, mentally planning his next attempt to bring down the legendary J. D. Raven and leave him for buzzard bait.

 

Eva appraised the damaged hat she had clamped in her hand and silently fumed while she sat at the table in the stage station. It seemed she had encountered one disaster after another since Gordon had deceived Lydia then stolen her carriage, her horse and her money. Now the scoundrel was trying to blast Eva off the face of the earth.

She would dearly love to return the favor.

Clara Morton, the other female passenger, halted to pat Eva's hand consolingly. “Are you all right? You were jostled all over the place, even before the shooting started.”

Eva rotated her tender arm—the one Raven landed on accidentally after he shoved her facedown. She had slammed her forehead into Irving Jarmon's boney knee as Raven somersaulted from the coach to return gunfire. She had to admit it had been a rough morning—and she hadn't even had lunch yet.

“I'm a little shaken up but otherwise fine,” Eva admitted. “Thank you for asking.”

Clara smiled down at her. “It must be comforting to have such a capable husband who will risk life and limb to protect you. I wish my husband was that attentive and—” She closed her mouth then patted Eva's hand again. “I'm glad you're okay.”

Eva got the impression that all wasn't well in Clara's marriage to the army officer. Which made her wonder if Clara had taken her son to St. Louis so she could return to pack up and leave her inattentive husband at the fort.

Delbert Barnes plopped down across the table from Eva and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Are you all right?” When she nodded he said, “I don't mind telling you that the ambush scared ten years off my life. Mercy, that was too close for comfort. Honestly, I couldn't believe you poked your head out the door after the first shot was fired.”

“I was hoping to get a good look at the sniper.”

“One of your new husband's sworn enemies, no doubt,” he remarked before he sipped the whiskey the waiter set in front of him. “It's not my place to say, of course, but I fear you'll be hounded constantly by Raven's past—unless you pack up and move out of state. Of course, that's no guarantee.”

“And miss all the excitement that makes life interesting? Where is the fun in that?” she replied flippantly.

Delbert couldn't decide if she was kidding or crazy so she snickered lightheartedly and he smiled tentatively at her. When he noticed that Raven had entered the station house he got up, grabbed his glass of whiskey and walked over to join the other passengers, who had gathered around the larger table.

It only took one glance into those intense green-gold eyes to realize Raven was displeased with her.
So what else was new?
she mused as she absently massaged her left wrist, which had been hyperextended during the shooting incident.

Considering Raven's sour expression—which she'd noted several times during the course of the day—she wondered if she brought out the worst in him. Or maybe bad moods were the order of all his days. She hadn't known him long enough to say for certain.

She would have thought he'd be looking exceedingly pleased. After all, he was leaving the stagecoach after lunch. He was hiking off to his secluded mountain cabin, never to see her again.

He loomed over her in that formidable way he had about him. His thick black brows flattened over his slitted eyes. His lips were stretched thin and his jaw, covered with the thick black beard and mustache, was clenched tightly. His chest swelled up like a striking cobra. Eva could understand how he was able to intimidate outlaws. He could look absolutely ominous when he felt like it.

However, she had discovered how tender and gentle he could be when he'd held her in his arms and kissed her until nothing else in the world mattered except the sizzling sensations he set off inside her. Whatever he said to the contrary—and dangerous though he looked, and he definitely did—she knew he had a gentler side. That knowledge prevented her from being frightened of him.

He doubled at the waist to slap his hands on the table so he could get right in her face. “Do not ever do that again,” he said with a snarl. “You nearly got yourself killed. When I tell you to get down then you get down right then and right there. Do you understand, Eva?”

“No,” she sassed him. “Maybe you could be a bit more specific about what you want me to do and when you want me to do it.”

Her smart remark obviously took him by surprise because he stared at her as if she were a curious creature he'd never seen before. Apparently, he wasn't accustomed to a woman talking back to him. Good, she didn't mind being the first at
something
for him.

Raven expelled his breath, shot her another annoyed look then plunked down across from her at the table. “You're driving me crazy.”

“Only for another half hour,” she reminded him. “You'll be gone after you have lunch. If I get my head blown off this afternoon it won't besmirch your reputation or encroach on your time because I won't be your concern.”

“Look, Eva, the—”

Raven swallowed whatever he intended to say when the waiter set down two plates of beans floating in the grease dripping off two slices of bacon. The corn bread was nearly burned beyond recognition.

Eva stared at the unappetizing food. “I've heard that meals on the stage line leave a lot to be desired, but I've never eaten one. The train serves better food. Too bad you didn't choose to ride the rails. You could have saved both of us from bushwhacking attempts.” She directed his attention to the knot on her forehead then gestured to her injured arm. “Not to mention bypassing a few bumps, sprains and bruises.”

“I don't recall inviting you to come along,
dear,
” he retorted as he picked up his fork.

Eva grimaced as she watched him scoop up a bite of bacon and beans then munch on them. Well, she thought, if he could choke down the unappealing food so could she. Unfortunately, she couldn't hide her distaste when the foul-tasting beans landed on her tongue and tasted like poison. Because he was watching closely, waiting for her gag and make a run for the door, she swallowed with defiance and quickly chased the food with a half a glass of water.

“Best food I ever had,” he declared.

He took another bite, but she couldn't match him forkful for forkful. Defeated, she rose to her feet and walked out.

“Don't become a live target again, sugarplum,” he called after her. “The third time might be the charm.”

She wished she spoke the Cheyenne language so she could tell him where to go and what to do with himself when he got there—without the passengers overhearing her.

 

Raven sat there for a half hour during the lunch break, debating with himself about what to do next while Eva did whatever the hell she was doing outside. Since no one was shooting at her presently, he presumed he was the primary target and the sniper had gotten in too much of a hurry.

He intended to leave the stagecoach and head up the mountain trail. But what to do about Eva…? She could concoct an explanation to feed to the curious passengers about where he'd gone. Or maybe she'd give up and go home where she should've stayed in the first place…
if
the story she had fed him was really the truth. He couldn't swear it was.

Then again, as daring as she was, she might arrive in Canyon Springs, outfit herself with a horse and supplies and travel alone to the mining camps in Devil's Triangle to search out Gordon. Bold and determined as she was, that wouldn't surprise him one damn bit.

“All aboard!” George slurred out as he propped himself negligently in the doorway.

The driver looked two sheets to the wind with his glassy eyes and slouched stance. It was no small wonder that stagecoaches occasionally overturned during trips. A besotted driver made matters worse while negotiating rough roads. Six months earlier, he'd heard that the stagecoach from El Paso to Santa Fe had overturned three times. He wondered if George Knott had been driving it.

Raven recalled the injuries Eva had sustained thus far then he muttered under his breath, “Hell and damnation.”

He surged to his feet and made a beeline toward George. “If this stagecoach lands upside down during the next leg of the journey I'm coming after you, Knott,” Raven growled as he halted in front of the inebriated driver. George's eyes widened as Raven bore down on him. “I don't make idle threats. That's a promise, guaran-damn-teed.”

George straightened to let Raven pass through the door.

“I'm grabbing my saddle and luggage and I'm leaving,” Raven called over his shoulder.

“Good. Maybe that bushwhacker will leave us be if you aren't on the stagecoach,” George mumbled when Raven was a safe distance away.

Glancing around, Raven tried to locate Eva. Using the horses and coach as a shield—just in case—he stepped up to grab his belongings from the cargo compartment. Reluctantly he dug around until he found Eva's two bulging satchels.

“I must be out of my mind,” he muttered as he carried the luggage to a nearby tree then dropped them at his feet.

“Board the stage!” George shouted as he wobbled outside.

Raven saw Eva emerge from the underbrush. Apparently, she had hiked down to the stream because her face looked freshly scrubbed and her glorious mane of auburn hair tumbled loosely over her shoulders and down her back. When she heard George's slurred summons, she broke into a run, her flaming hair flying out behind her. She squawked when Raven stepped from the shadows to snag her arm unexpectedly.

“You're coming with me,” he said, silently castigating himself for being a hypocrite.

Her long lashes swept up and she focused those luminous brown eyes on him. “I am? I thought—”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm crazy about you, of course. One day with you and I want you for life,” he said caustically.

She scoffed at his insincere tone. “Sure you do, Jo-Dan.”

He bared his teeth. “I told you not to call me that.”

“You coming or not, Mrs. Raven?” George called to her.

“She's with me,” Raven answered for her as he crammed her damaged hat in her satchel. “We're married, aren't we?”

As the coach clattered away Eva flashed him a radiant smile. “Thank you, Raven. You really are a sweetheart. You won't regret taking this assignment.”

“Whoa, honey,” he said quickly. “I didn't say anything about taking the case. You can spend a few days at my cabin then I'll bring you down the mountain to catch the stage.”

“Now wait just a blessed minute!” she protested hotly. “If you aren't going to help me then I need to be on that stage!” She waved her arms wildly, trying to gain the driver's attention but George had picked up speed and didn't look back. Furious, she wheeled on Raven. “Damn you! You purposely misled me. That was a cheap trick!”

“Sort of like pretending we're married?” he mocked.

If looks could kill Raven was sure he would have been pushing up daisies. Having survived the murderous glare—just barely—he scooped up his saddle and rifle and walked off.

“Gordon Carter has nothing on you. You're a conniving rascal, Jo-Dan,” she spluttered at him.

“I prefer to think of myself as crafty.” He stared pointedly at her satchels. “Make yourself useful. Carry your gear. Either that or leave it behind. I don't care which.”

“Just when I think I'm beginning to like you a little…you do something to annoy me to the extreme,” she muttered as she followed him through the cover of the trees. “I'm curious. Is there anyone on the face of this planet that you like or respect enough to treat with kindness and consideration?”