The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress Page 17

  “That looks like the horse I saw your would-be assassin riding when he set off the rockslide by Seven Falls,” Blackowl murmured. “I guess this means he lost his footing during the storm and won’t come gunning for you again.”

  Raven couldn’t control his mounting concern for Eva. It was coloring his every thought. “Or maybe the bastard disposed of Eva, stole her horse and made another attempt to convince us that he’s dead.”

  “Or maybe it is true that there were two assassins and that one disposed of the other,” Blackowl suggested.

  “There is also the possibility that the sneaky bastard overtook Eva and disposed of his own belongings to throw us off track. She could be a captive that will become bait to lure us into a deathtrap.”

  Blackowl grimaced as he started up the winding trail. “That is possible, I suppose. I hope you’re wrong, Raven.”

  Raven sincerely hoped he was wrong, too. But Eva had encountered so many near brushes with fatal danger already that it was making him loco. If she was still alive, if he caught up with her before disaster struck, he was going to shake the stuffing out of her for scaring a dozen years off his life.

  Eva mentally scrambled to devise a workable solution to rescue the hapless gamblers. The self-appointed judge of the mob—the burly Irish saloonkeeper—stepped forward to ask Frank Albers and Irving Jarmon if they had any last words before they died.

  Suddenly inspiration struck Eva like a lightning bolt and she smiled triumphantly.

  Bounding into the saddle, Eva forced her horse to circle around the clump of trees and underbrush where she was hiding. Giving whoops and shouts of excitement—that alarmed the bay and left him sidestepping and tossing his head—Eva waved her arm in expansive gestures. All heads turned toward her in synchronized rhythm as her horse bounded down the steep slope.

  “Eureka! We’ve struck it rich!” she yelled in her exaggerated Southern drawl. “Me and my uncle hit a bonanza!”

  The attention-grabbing comment distracted the kangaroo court from its execution.

  “Say, that’s the kid who came in my store this morning, looking for his uncle.”

  Eva nodded vigorously as she waved to the dry goods storekeeper who had sold her canned food earlier.

  “Same for me,” the burly Irish saloon owner added. “He was looking for his uncle then, too.”

  “I found him!” Eva shouted excitedly. “We stumbled on a rich vein on the north side of this slope.” That was the exact opposite direction she planned to ride in attempt to overtake Gordon. “The vein is in a deep crevice about fifty feet above ledge. You have to see it to believe it!”

  Gold fever struck the mob. With the lynching forgotten, they swarmed toward her, causing the bay gelding to prance skittishly. Eva reined the horse through the surging crowd that scrabbled up the rocky terrain and disappeared around the side of the mountain in search of the imaginary bonanza.

  “Thank you, son,” Frank murmured as Eva leaned out to remove the noose from his neck then untied his hands from behind his back. “We thought we were as good as dead…. Eva?”

  His voice became a startled croak and he stared frog-eyed at her. “It is you, isn’t it? What the blazes are you doing—?”

  “Eva Raven?” Irving hooted as he studied her face beneath the shadowed brim of her hat. He glanced this way and that. “Is your husband here, too?”

  “No, he is completing an unfinished assignment.” She untied Irving’s hands. “I’m tracking the bushwhacker who took potshots at me during the stagecoach journey.”

  Frank and Irving massaged their raw-skinned necks as they focused their bewildered stares on Eva.

  “So that’s why you’re in disguise,” Frank ventured. “To protect yourself in this rowdy camp. Good thinking.”

  “I identified the bushwhacker who left town immediately before you two were marched out here.” She glanced at them in blatant disapproval. “Maybe it isn’t a good idea to gang up on hapless miners. They don’t take kindly to being cheated at cards.”

  The gamblers had enough decency to look ashamed and contrite. “Folks in these parts seem prone to taking drastic measures in a hurry,” Frank mumbled.

  “They will probably take the same attitude in punishing a kid who claimed to have discovered a gold strike that doesn’t exist.” Eva cast a wary glance toward the stone-covered hillside. “I better head to Satan’s Bluff before the mob descends on me.”

  Irving snickered in amusement. “That was a clever distraction and we are eternally indebted to you. If not for you, we’d be swinging from the short end of a rope right now.”

  When Eva reined toward the second settlement at higher elevations, Frank called out to her. “I’m not sure you should go there alone. Maybe you should wait for Raven to catch up.”

  Eva didn’t mention that Raven wasn’t coming. Instead, she waved farewell and didn’t look back. She had done her good deed for the day by sparing the gamblers, but it had cost her valuable time and she had bypassed the perfect opportunity to pounce on Gordon when he least expected it. Now she couldn’t overtake him until he stopped in the next town.

  She rode away, cautioning herself not to become overanxious and make a careless mistake. If she lost the element of surprise—and disguise—that slimy worm might slip from her grasp.

  That is not going to happen, Eva promised herself. Before the day was out, Gordon would be her captive…She hoped.

  Raven rode into Purgatory Gulch later that afternoon. His stomach growled and his temper roiled. He scanned the street impatiently, looking for the blood-red bay and its daredevil rider. He saw neither. What he did notice was the same speculative glances he usually received when he entered a community—even one as wild and rowdy as this one.

  Today he drew even more attention because Blackowl rode beside him. They were given a wide berth and grudging consideration. Legend had it that he and Blackowl were deadly accurate with rifles, knives and six-shooters and challenging them to a showdown was just plain suicide.

  Raven halted in front of a makeshift saloon, unaware that he had encountered the same rude Irishman that Eva had contacted when she first arrived in town.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Raven said without preamble.

  “Ain’t we all,” the Irishman answered wryly then lit his cheroot. “I’ve seen you in town before. Raven, isn’t it? We don’t want no trouble.” He inclined his greasy head toward Blackowl. “I’ve seen you before, too. Owl-Something-Or-Other, right?”

  “Blackowl.” He bared his teeth menacingly. “I collect Irish scalps.”

  The Irishman bit down on his cigar but didn’t respond.

  Raven retrieved the three bench warrants Marshal Doyle had given him in Denver then waved them in the Irishman’s doughy face. “These men robbed a couple of miners in this area. Do you know where I can find them?”

  The Irishman snorted in disgust. “Yeah, two of them are rotting in hell and you won’t collect any bounty on them. We hanged them last week when they shot one of my fellow countrymen in the leg while trying to rob him. One got away.”

  Raven nodded grimly. “This mining camp is gaining the reputation as a ‘hangtown.’ You don’t get to be judge, jury and executioner.”

  “Isn’t that what you are?” the Irishman asked insolently. “I’ve heard there are hundreds of graves marked with an X, thanks to you.”

  Raven rolled his eyes. Every time that tale was told, the numbers were exaggerated. “There aren’t hundreds,” he contradicted. “Only the ones who prefer death to rotting in jail don’t make it back to Denver alive.”

  The Irishman’s expression indicated that he didn’t believe Raven. The legend was usually more interesting than the truth, he supposed.

  “In my book, the policy of hanging criminals immediately curtails the number of robberies and murders. I’m all for expedient frontier justice. If not for that cunning little brat we would’ve had ourselves another double lynching this morning.”

  Raven snapped to a
ttention. “What brat?”

  The Irishman blew smoke rings in the air. “The one dressed in buckskin and moccasins. “He claimed he was looking for his uncle Gordon. I shooed him away from my saloon but he turned up later when we were all set to hang two cheating gamblers. The kid started yelling about how he and his uncle had found a rich vein of gold on the north side of the mountain.”

  Raven glanced discreetly at Blackowl, who was also having trouble keeping a straight face. Leave it to Eva to be resourceful and inventive. Hell, that’s how Raven had come to have a pretend wife who had him chasing her all over creation.

  “Everybody got excited about the possibility of a new mother lode in the area and we raced off, following the kid’s directions.” The Irishman bit down on his cigar and his face puckered in a scowl. “We wasted two hours combing the hillside. We finally gave up and walked back to town. By that time, the two men we planned to hang for cheating at cards were long gone. So were the two horses we hoisted them onto so we could leave them swinging from a rope.”

  “You think one of the men might have been the kid’s uncle?” Blackowl asked.

  The Irishman nodded his greasy head and Raven noticed the sunlight glinting off the specks in his hair. “I’d bet my right arm that the kid’s uncle was one of those hooligans who fleeced miners at the card table,” the Irishman was saying when Raven got around to listening. “If you happen onto that sneaky brat, remember that he’s an accomplice to horse thieving. He can hang alongside his uncle and his cohort.”

  “I’ll see that justice is served,” Raven said as he pivoted around to mount his horse.

  Together Raven and Blackowl rode toward the outskirts of town, continuing to draw speculative stares. Two men darted from a saloon, bounded onto their mules and rode off in the opposite direction in a flaming rush.

  “What do you suppose those two are guilty of?” Blackowl asked as he watched the men’s hasty departure.

  Raven shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have warrants for their arrest.” He halted when he saw the lone pine tree where two nooses swayed in the breeze. “I wonder if Gordon Carter was one of the doomed gamblers.”

  Blackowl frowned thoughtfully. “If Eva did manage to take advantage of having him tied up and sitting on a horse, prepared to have his neck stretched, what would she do with him?”

  “She claimed she planned to shoot, stab, poison and hang him,” Raven recalled as he stared at the nooses. “Why would she pass up the golden opportunity to watch him die?”

  An uneasy sensation trickled down Raven’s spine as he glanced over his shoulder toward town. “What if there really are two men who are trying to ambush us and they decided to join forces?”

  “Then why come here?” Blackowl questioned.

  “I have no clue. This case has me baffled. The bushwhacker—or bushwhackers—struck with guerilla tactics then disappeared when the storm began building.”

  “Maybe they decided to clear out since they were unsuccessful in killing you,” Blackowl speculated. “They did manage to lurk around long enough to keep you on defensive alert for several days.”

  Raven figured Blackowl might be right on that count. More than once a fugitive he was tracking took potshots at him then cleared out. But Raven still wasn’t certain what had become of Eva after she diverted the mob and freed the two men who had cheated death by dodging the noose. His worst fear was that the men had managed to turn the tables on that daring spitfire. She might be their captive by now.

  If Gordon Carter was still alive and had taken Eva hostage he had several lucrative options. He could use her to control Raven or hold her for ransom. Gordon knew exactly how much she was worth to her younger sister, Lydia.

  “If Eva did manage to capture the man she is chasing she might have headed for Satan’s Bluff,” Blackowl said, breaking into Raven’s troubled thoughts. “The freight trail that connects the mining camps to Canyon Springs and Mineral Wells is traveled more frequently. For certain, she didn’t reverse direction. Otherwise we would have encountered her already.”

  Raven nudged his paint pony past the hanging tree and set a swift pace. He glanced skyward, noting that another bank of threatening clouds had gathered northwest of the mountain peaks. This was not a good time for a rainy spell, not when Eva was who knew where, trying to apprehend Gordon single-handedly.

  “Life was easier when Eva was underfoot,” he muttered. “At least I could keep up with what that little daredevil was doing. Now I don’t know what has happened to her.”

  “And that disturbs you greatly,” Blackowl commented. “Be careful, cousin, your weakness is showing and that is not a good sign.”

  “It’s only because I feel responsible for her,” Raven defended himself.

  “If you say so,” Blackowl said, and smirked.

  Raven glared at his cousin’s wry grin and continued somberly. “The other possibility is that neither man, who was about to be hanged, was Gordon Carter. Perhaps my bushwhacker overtook Eva. He might be holding her captive. Maybe he intends to contact us so he can lure us in for the kill. In which case, Eva becomes an eyewitness who must be silenced permanently because she knows too much.”

  The comment wiped the teasing smile from Blackowl’s bronzed features. “I will personally kill any man who harms one hair on Eva’s head.”

  Raven arched a dark brow.

  Blackowl grunted. “She is the only paleface I like besides Hoodoo.”

  Raven hated to admit that he’d grown overly fond of Eva himself. Which probably explained why apprehension was tying his thoughts and his emotions into knots. He wanted to strangle Eva for riding off alone to encounter any number of unexpected catastrophes. But he didn’t want another man to lay a hand on her. That was his exclusive right.

  Once again, he chose not to delve too deeply into why he felt so protective and possessive of her. He was afraid he wouldn’t like what he discovered about his ill-fated feelings for Eva. If he knew what was good for him, he would continue to consider that hellion a royal pain in the ass.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eva ducked into a grove of trees when she heard the clip-clop of horses approaching from behind her. To her dismay, Frank and Irving rode into view.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asked, exasperated, as she sidestepped down to the path.

  “Can’t go back to Purgatory Gulch, now can we?” Frank said. “Those spiteful miners are looking to hang us.”

  “Besides, we figure we owe our lives to you so we’re going to serve as your bodyguards until your husband catches up with you,” Irving added.

  “I don’t need bodyguards.” She had dismissed the two she had so she wouldn’t have to fret about placing them in danger.

  “Suit yourself, but we’re still going to be your traveling companions, Eva—”

  She flung up her hand to shush him. “The name is Evan Hall,” she informed them. She figured the shortened version of Evangeline Hallowell would suit her charade perfectly. “No sense having a woman’s name when I’m disguised as a boy.”

  “Makes sense,” Frank agreed, smiling conspiratorially. “Wouldn’t want to accidentally reveal your identity by calling you by the wrong name.”

  Irving nodded pensively. “A woman in these parts has to be particularly careful.”

  “I intend to be.”

  Eva nudged the bay into a trot. She was anxious to locate Gordon. If everything went according to plan, she could have him in shackles and tossed over the back of a horse like a feed sack by sunset. The prospect inspired her. For the first time in almost a week, she had positively identified Gordon. She suspected he was also her would-be assassin who had taken more shots at her than she cared to count.

  Who else could it possibly have been? she asked herself. When Gordon realized she was following him, he must have tracked her all the way to Raven’s cabin. Otherwise, he would have come up the wagon trail between Canyon Springs and Satan’s Bluff since it was more familiar to traveler
s.

  Once she had Gordon in custody she would demand all the details, she mused. By nightfall, she would reach Satan’s Bluff and overtake Gordon.

  She glanced over her shoulder at her companions. On second thought, she might need to enlist Irving and Frank’s assistance at some point in the capture. But when she had Gordon bound up like a mummy he wouldn’t be any trouble.

  Anticipation spiked inside her once again. She could accomplish her mission and transport Gordon to Canyon Springs tomorrow. She could turn him over to the sheriff for safekeeping and have him stand trial somewhere besides Denver to curtail unwanted publicity. Then she could take the train home to inform Lydia that justice had been served.

  Eva knew she would never see Raven again, unless it was a chance sighting from a distance, while he was in town turning over his prisoners to Marshal Doyle.

  The thought caused waves of emptiness and longing to swamp her. For a woman who had sworn off men three years earlier, she had recently changed her tune. Well, she would have to change it back, she told herself resolutely. Mooning over Raven was a waste of emotion.

  The sooner she accepted the fact that he didn’t want or need her to make him happy the better off she would be. Still, she was going to miss him terribly. She’d miss ruffling Raven’s feathers, miss their playful banter, the mental challenges and the incredible passion.

  He was still her pick as a husband. Eva smiled ruefully, knowing that if Raven ever decided to take a wife she wouldn’t even be on his list of prospective brides.

  She glanced skyward, noting that another storm was building on the horizon. She had the uneasy feeling that she wouldn’t be able to dodge this one. Hopefully, she would have Gordon bound and gagged by the time the storm descended on Satan’s Bluff.

  Determined of purpose, she quickened her pace to lead the way up the steep mountain trail.

  Two hours later Eva watched the storm clouds form an ominous line from northeast to southwest. Above the lofty summits lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. If she planned to apprehend Gordon before the storm descended, she needed to locate him quickly.