The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress Page 7

  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 hot
ly. “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?”

  “Yes, my cousin, Blackowl, and Hoodoo.”

  “Who’s Hoodoo?”

  “The man who keeps the home fires burning at my cabin while I’m on forays,” Raven explained as he ducked beneath a low-hanging tree limb.

  “You have two friends in the world? That’s two more than I expected,” she taunted. “They must overlook your sour disposition because they’re desperate for companionship.”

  Raven halted so abruptly that Eva slammed into him. He pivoted to face her wicked smile.

  “You should be a helluva lot nicer to me,” he told her. “I’m the only thing standing between you and lost.”

  “Has it occurred to you that this might be as nice as I ever get?” she countered, undaunted.

  He nodded pensively. “Yeah, that’s right. A man-hater. I almost forgot after you put on that sugarcoated act to fool the stagecoach passengers.”

  When he spun around to walk away she said, “I’ll pay you an extra five-hundred-dollar bonus to take this case.”

  “Are you made of money?” he asked as he sidestepped up the rocky slope then tossed his saddle onto the ledge.

  “I have a modest inheritance,” she replied. “I’ll gladly share it with you if you’ll help me put Gordon behind bars so he can’t swindle another unsuspecting woman out of money.”

  “The Rocky Mountain Detective Agency is still your best bet. General David Cook is as a good man and so are most of his assistants,” Raven recommended.

  “Still not an option,” she mumbled.

  He pulled himself upon the ledge then stretched out his hand to hoist her up. “I don’t get it. Why me?”

  “Because you’re the best and that’s exactly what I want.”

  The comment inordinately pleased him. Damn if he knew why. After all, he was making a colossal effort to find fault with Eva at every turn so he wouldn’t like her too much.

  “Let me know if the pace is too rigorous. Nothing worse than dragging along a sissy girl,” he baited purposely.

  She slung her leg over the ledge and flopped beside him. “I love you, too, J.D.,” she cooed in a sticky sweet tone.

  He surged to his feet and turned away before she noticed his grin. “Let’s move, wife. We’re wasting daylight.”

  Eva huffed and puffed her way up the winding footpath. They had been climbing toward the sawtooth peaks with their eroded cliffs and weather-beaten bluffs for what seemed like hours, but she vowed she would give out long before she gave up. Sissy indeed! Raven was testing her, pushing her to pinpoint her limitations, forcing her to admit she was out of her element and inferior to his strength and survival skills. She knew she was, but she wouldn’t give the infuriating man the satisfaction of hearing her admit it.

  Despite her willful determination, her feet were killing her and her arms ached from lugging the heavy satchels. She could see why traveling light in the mountains was important. Any extra baggage weighed you down and zapped your strength and stamina prematurely.

  Eva managed to keep walking for another half hour before her knees gave way and dumped her unceremoniously on the rocky path. She was on the brink of tears, knowing she’d have to beg for a short break. To her surprise, Raven halted. He dropped his saddle, grabbed her arm and boosted her onto a boulder.

  “Ouch,” she mumbled, massaging her tender shoulder.

  “Sorry, I forgot about your previous injury.” He glanced overhead and frowned. “I wonder what’s drawing buzzards.”

  Eva shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced at the four vultures circling in the cloudy sky. Then they swooped down and disappeared on the upper ledge. That didn’t bode well. Someone or something was about to become an afternoon meal.

  “Here, take this,” Raven ordered as he handed her one of his Colt .45s.

  “I still don’t know how to shoot it,” she reminded him.

  “Cock the hammer, aim at anything that doesn’t announce itself and squeeze the trigger. I’ll give a shout when I return, so don’t accidentally blow my head off.”

  She flashed him a mischievous grin. “At last, an excuse I can work with.”

  “Two hours ago you said you loved me,” he recalled.

  “I’ve decided I’d love to shoot you instead.”

  “Fickle woman. You change with the wind.” His smile faded and his expression sobered. “Seriously, minx, pay attention to your surroundings. This could be a setup by my sniper. He might have killed a rabbit and left it to the buzzards to provide a distraction for me while he moves in for the kill.”

  “My sniper,” she corrected. “I told you Gordon despises me because I never trusted his premeditated flattery. I was rude to him every change I got.”

  “Gee, can’t imagine that,” he said flippantly as he clutched her hand to lead her beneath the overhanging stone ledge. “Rule number one in the wilderness—pay attention.”

  “I’d rather come with you,” she requested.

  “This is not negotiable.” He wagged his finger in her flushed face. “You better be exactly where I leave you…or else.”

  “Or else what?” she asked with a challenging smile.

  “I’ll dream up a suitable torture while I’m gone.”

  After he disappeared around the bend on the path, Eva removed her shoes and sighed in relief. She had blisters on her feet and she’d give anything for a pair of those thick-soled moccasins Raven wore. She leaned back to wiggle her bare toes, closed her eyes and begged for a quick nap. Amazingly, she dozed off but she was startled awake by the sound of a gunshot reverberating around the canyon walls.

  Afraid Raven had become a target because of his association with her, she padded barefoot along the path, ignoring the pain of sharp pebbles digging into her feet. When the trail became even more rugged, she paused to fashion her hindering skirts into a pair of breeches by tucking the hem into her belt. Then she took off again with pistol in hand.

  She stumbled to a halt when she saw Raven hunkered down on one knee on the path. “Oh, God, no!” she railed in horror.

  “Damn it, Eva, I told you to stay put,” Raven all but yelled at her.

  He watched her hand fly to her mouth as she staggered back three paces. The pistol he’d given her hung loosely in her fingertips. She stared at him in anguish.

  “Sweet Jesus…”

  Her knees folded up again and dumped her on the pebbled path. Raven swore foully as tears welled up in her dark eyes then dribbled down her cheeks. This courageous woman, who defied flying bullets to search out a sniper and who stood up to him when no one else dared, was brought down by the sight of her sister’s horse dangling half-on, half-off the ledge of the narrow trail. Or was it really her horse, he wondered.

  The fact that Raven had to fire a shot to put the animal out of its misery, because of its broken leg, didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. It was the second time in ten days that he’d had to dispose of a downed ho
rse.

  “Oh, Hodge, I’m so sorry I didn’t catch up to you in time,” she whispered as she crawled over to stroke the chestnut’s muscular neck. Dark eyes spilling shiny tears, she looked up at Raven. “Papa bought this horse for Lydia’s thirteenth birthday. When Papa died six months later, Lydia was so grief-stricken that she rode off on Hodge and it took me two days to find her. Hodge took care of her, but I wasn’t here when he needed me most—”

  Her voice broke when she noticed the telltale signs the horse had been abused by its rider. Someone had fastened leather straps around the gelding’s jaw and muzzle to keep him silent. The rider had whipped him recently, leaving fresh welts on his hindquarters and shoulders. Raw strips of skin on his hocks indicated that he’d been tethered tightly to restrain him.

  She stared stonily at Raven as she draped herself across the lifeless horse, as if to give it one last affectionate hug. “For this alone I swear I will kill Gordon myself.”

  “You don’t know for certain that Gordon used the horse,” Raven pointed out as she continued to stroke Hodge’s neck. He gestured toward the wild tumble of rock and trees that filled the ravine below. “For all we know the horse might have tripped and catapulted the rider off the cliff. Finding dead bodies in these mountains isn’t easy, especially if you don’t know precisely where to look. It took me a long time to find Buster Flanders and I knew approximately where he landed.”

  “I’m not banking on the fact that Gordon is at the bottom of the ravine,” she said between sniffles. “He exposed his vicious streak to me only once, when he didn’t know I was there to watch him take a makeshift club to a drunken partygoer who did nothing more than poke fun at him.”

  “Nonetheless, your smooth-talking gold digger might have been overtaken and killed for possession of this well-bred horse and the stolen money,” Raven contended. “I’ve seen it happen countless times before. Gordon might have been knocked off the side of the mountain or dragged into a cave or into an abandoned mineshaft and left to rot. My best guess is that my sniper confiscated this horse from Gordon. He is still gunning for me, not you.”