The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress (11 page)

As Raven rode toward the cabin, he muttered under his breath. There was no talking Eva out of her one-woman campaign to track down Gordon Carter. Her unfaltering determination kept her on course, no matter who discouraged her.

Raven frowned, realizing the more adversity Eva faced the more hell-bent she became. The obstacles she encountered during her mission challenged and motivated her. He sat up a little straighter in the saddle and blinked when he realized that he possessed the same exasperating trait that refused to let him be bested by wily outlaws. Hell, he was as headstrong and competitive as she was.

“Something wrong?” Eva asked, scrutinizing him carefully.

“Yes, but I'll deal with it.” He urged the skewbald gelding into a trot then into a swift gallop to see how well he responded.

 

Eva decided Raven was right. He didn't need a wife. He had Hoodoo Lemoyne, who cooked like a skilled chef, trained horses, made clothing and provided all the conversation anyone could possibly hope to have. The food he prepared was so scrumptious that Eva ate like a field hand, while the three men chatted nonstop. It reminded her of her close connection to her sister and the Philbert twins. But here
she
was the outsider, the unwanted female the men merely tolerated and sometimes overlooked.

It was a rude awakening for a woman who was a valued guest at parties hosted by the socially elite in Denver. Now that she was partially ignored, she gained insight into how Hoodoo, Raven and Blackowl felt when they were excluded and rejected by polite society.

“I'm going to see if I can pick up the sniper's trail,” Raven announced as he carried his empty plate and tin cup to the wooden counter.

“I'll go with you,” Blackowl volunteered.

“No, I'd rather you stay here while I borrow your horse,” Raven requested. “You and Eva can put the two new mounts through the next phase of training. Eva can learn a lot from you.”

“Work with the paleface?” Blackowl smirked, disgruntled. “I'd rather track your assassin.”

“It's my assassin so I'll track him,” Raven insisted.

“It's
mine,
” Eva spoke up. “I'm not convinced that Gordon is lying at the bottom of a ravine. It's more likely the sneaky scoundrel disposed of the prized horse to fake his own death or that he traded horses with someone else.”

“Where's the money for my furs?” Blackowl questioned abruptly. “I'll teach you to take the spook out of that red devil but you have to pay me first. I don't work for palefaces for nothing, you know.”

Eva rose from the planked table then carried her dishes to the pan of water. She smiled at Hoodoo on her way past. “The meal was wonderful. I can name several restaurant owners in Denver who would stampede over each other to hire you.”

“There, ya see? Somebody appreciates me,” said Hoodoo, grinning smugly.

“We do appreciate you, but if we start dishing out praise all the time there'd be no living with you,” Raven teased as he loaded his six-shooters then grabbed his rifle. He turned back to Blackowl. “Don't leave yourself or Eva vulnerable to become an open target.”

Blackowl bobbed his coal-black head. “Don't fall into a trap, cousin. We are the last of the Bird Clan. Besides, that would leave me to take Paleface on her mission alone.”

Eva glanced into Blackowl's ebony eyes. She didn't know him well enough to know if he was teasing or dead serious. Then she noticed the hint of a smile on his clean-shaven face. She was relieved that he didn't dislike her completely.

“Behave or I won't pay you for the furs,” she threatened.

“No one expects Indians to behave,” Blackowl countered, unabashed. “Ask Raven.”

“So that's the standard excuse, is it?” she replied. “Raven insists that I don't behave, either. He says I'm a pain in the posterior.”

“She's a bona fide lady and you should both be nice to her,” Hoodoo lectured as he hobbled over to scrape the plates. “Now go on about your business, all of you. I'll clean up the dishes then start my stitching.”

Eva was sorry to say she was disappointed when Raven walked away without a backward glance. His cousin and friend were taking her off his hands for a few hours and he was glad to be rid of her. That stung her pride…because she seemed more attracted and aware of him than he was of her.

Men! Here was another shining example of why she should avoid them all. The ones who catered and fawned over her made her suspicious and didn't interest her in the least. The one who cautiously kept his distance intrigued her. It was enough to drive a sane woman crazy.

Lost in thought, Eva rummaged through her satchel to retrieve the roll of banknotes. “How much are your furs worth?” she called down to Blackowl.

“One thousand,” he called back.

“No, they aren't,” she contradicted. “I'm not completely ignorant of the market value so don't try to swindle me. I'd say more like five hundred dollars.”

“The other five hundred is for teaching you to be Cheyenne and for guiding you through the mountains. I told you, I don't work cheap, Paleface.”

Eva smiled in amusement. In some ways, Blackowl reminded her of Raven. The Bird Clan of the Cheyenne tribe was obviously a straightforward, plainspoken, dry-humored bunch.

Tucking the remainder of her money in a new place, she descended the steps to see Blackowl staring attentively at her. She arched a curious brow but he didn't say a word, just extended his arm.

She slapped the money into his hand then said, “I'm paying you a premium to teach me to be a survivalist and a horse trainer so let's get at it.”

With a wave to Hoodoo, Eva followed Blackowl outside.

“First things first,” he declared as he rounded on her. “Do not hurt my cousin. He's all the family I have.”

“Hurt him?” she echoed incredulously. “Impossible.”

“Not as impossible as you seem to think, Paleface,” he said somberly. “He let you come here, didn't he?”

“He only feels sorry for me because I narrowly escaped being shot twice with bullets he's convinced were meant for him, not me,” she explained. “Besides, I nagged him incessantly to help me and he finally threw up his hands and gave in.”

Blackowl frowned pensively as he hiked off to select a protected location to work with the two horses. Eva followed him, feeling more than a little guilty about withholding information about herself from Raven, Hoodoo and Blackowl. And yet, she didn't want any of the three to change their attitude toward her because of who she was. She enjoyed her association with them and she wanted to keep things the way they were.

She knew it wasn't fair to attach herself to Raven the way she had. She had needed expert assistance, but that was no excuse for practically forcing her presence on Raven and putting his life in danger. Now she had involved his cousin and his friend in her crusade.

Curse it, her conflicting feelings of revenge and guilt were tormenting her to the extreme. Maybe she should strike out on her own after her horse was adequately trained. Then she wouldn't have to worry about the men being injured because of her.

“Pay attention, Paleface,” Blackowl said sharply. “Slap this gunnysack all over the red devil until he no longer shies away or tries to bolt and run.”

Eva did as instructed but the blood-red bay strained against the lead rope she'd secured to a tree for five consecutive minutes while she flung the gunnysack at him. “How long—?”

“As long as it takes and a moment longer,” he interrupted.

Eva noted the brown-and-white pinto stood still while Blackowl swatted him from head to rump. She reached out to reassure her horse and he quieted instantly.

“I'll be damned,” Blackowl mumbled while she kept her hand on the horse's black mane and flung the gunnysack over his withers and back.

“Now shake this tree branch with its rattling leaves over him,” Blackowl directed, handing the limb to her.

Again, the blood-red bay tolerated being whacked lightly with the branch as long as Eva's hand remained on his neck.

“That explains it,” Blackowl said insightfully.

“That explains what?”

Blackowl grinned and gave an evasive shrug. “Keep working with the horse by walking all the way around him. Remain as close to him as you can get. He can't kick if you're practically sharing the same skin.”

“Where did you learn such perfect English?” she asked as she did precisely as he instructed.

“From Raven. His father taught him as a child and he taught me. It has helped me to communicate with the whites at the trading posts and at rendezvous.”

“How long did you remain with the Ute tribe after the massacre?” she questioned interestedly.

Blackowl's thick brows shot up his forehead. “He told you about that?”

“I tortured it out of him,” she teased.

“I'm beginning to believe it.” He walked the skewbald in ever-widening circles while slapping its shoulder with the branch. “We spent about two years with them, biding our time, before Raven went looking for his father. Jordan thought we were dead and he settled in white society to remarry. I hunted and trapped with the Utes while Raven was indoctrinated into his father's world.”

“Raven mentioned a stepbrother,” Eva prompted while she leaned against the bay's ribs and draped her hand over his back. “Where is he now?”

“I don't know and I don't care,” he said flatly. “Neither does Raven. The brat was rude, disrespectful to Jordan, insulting and belittling to Raven. After Jordan died, all Raven's belongings disappeared from the house and his stepmother told him he was never welcome there again.”

“And what about you, Blackowl? What have you been doing for the past dozen years? Dodging white society every chance you get to avoid being labeled a renegade and marched to the reservation in Indian Territory?”

He shot her a narrowed glance. “You are too smart for your breeches, Paleface. But yes, I skirt the towns heavily populated with whites. The Mexican settlements are more tolerant of an Indian who partially dresses like a white, a Mexican and a Cheyenne, all rolled into one.”

Suddenly Blackowl drew his pistol and fired off two shots, causing the horses to bolt sideways. Eva latched onto her mount, whispering reassuringly until he calmed down.

Then out of the blue Blackowl pounced on her. He shoved her roughly to the ground and plunked down on her belly, forcing the breath from her lungs in a whoosh. She stared up at him, realizing there were two different personalities housed inside those doeskin clothes. The man sneering at her now was definitely a threat.

Eva tried to knock him backward but he grabbed her hands and held them beside her shoulders. She yelped in outrage and writhed wildly beneath him, but the muscular Cheyenne warrior snarled viciously and refused to release her. The biting pressure on her manacled wrists prompted her to yelp in pain and struggle for all she was worth to escape this surprise assault.

“W
hat the blazes are you doing?” Eva demanded angrily as Blackowl bore down on her.

“Attacking you. What are you going to do about it?”

“Curse you, for starters,” she muttered.

“That won't keep you alive,” he said gruffly. “Throw an elbow and kick at me. You fight or you die, Paleface. It is the code of the wilderness. No one is going to go easy on you because you're a woman.”

Eva tried to jab him in the chest and lash out with her boot heel but he was too shifty and agile. Then he jerked her hands over her head and held them there as he settled exactly upon her. She upraised her knee, but it didn't deter him.

“What the hell is going on here?” Raven's voice boomed from the underbrush like a discharging cannon.

His ominous tone didn't faze Blackowl, who grinned wickedly at her. “Survival training.”

Eva arched her neck to look behind her. She saw Raven striding toward her, rifle in hand. The look on his face would have been frightening if she didn't know he wouldn't lay a hurtful hand on her. But he directed his icy glare on his cousin, who hadn't moved and was still smiling in scampish glee.

“Get off of her,” Raven snapped brusquely.

“She hasn't learned to unseat me yet,” Blackowl replied. “She's untrained and helpless. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is for you to back off, damn it!” he exclaimed, voice rising to a roar.

Blackowl pushed onto his knees then climbed to his feet. His shoulder brushed Raven's as he walked past and said, “Just as I thought.”

“What did you think?” Eva questioned irritably, rubbing her wrists as she sat up. “That I can't take care of myself and you wanted to make that point
in spades?
”

“That, too,” Blackowl said enigmatically as he grabbed the reins to his own horse—the one Raven left nearby—then ambled away.

Eva frowned, bemused. She was still staring after Blackowl when Raven reached down to draw her to her feet.

“Did he hurt you?” Raven asked in concern.

“Only my pride. I thought I could protect myself better than that.”

“Obviously you can't, which is why Blackowl and I need to track Carter while you keep Hoodoo company at the cabin.”

Eva glared at him then at Blackowl's departing back. Then it dawned on her that she had been set up. “So that's what that little demonstration was all about.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You told Blackowl to make me look foolish and ill-prepared then you
conveniently
showed up, seemingly offended by his harsh methods so I wouldn't blame you. But you put him up to roughhousing, didn't you?”

“Of course not,” he said, and snorted.

“Couldn't prove it by me,” she muttered as she brushed the grass and leaves from her clothing. “You want to get rid of me and you've made it plain as day to me and your friends.”

“And you've been leading me along with claims of theft against your sister, but how do I know you and Carter aren't in cahoots?” He stared pointedly at her wedding band. “Are you married to him? Is that why you refuse to tell me your last name? Are you after him because he didn't give you a cut of the loot? Don't lie to me this time, damn it.”

Eva staggered back as if he'd slapped her. The harsh questions cut to the quick—and even deeper. In most circles, her word was honored and respected, but she was beyond upset that Raven didn't trust her, even after he'd gotten to know her. Yet, fool that she was, she was hopelessly attracted to the big cynical brute.

Honestly, she didn't know if she was angrier with him for distrusting her so completely or at herself for allowing him and his opinions to matter so much to her.

She hated getting emotional, especially in front of other people. And most especially in front of someone as invincible as Raven. Refusing to cry in front of him, Eva lurched around and dashed off before she decomposed. “I'm going to the springs and don't try to talk me out of it.”

“Not without a chaperone,” he called after her.

“Go to hell!” she shouted as she broke into a run.

“Damn it, Eva, I lost the sniper's tracks on the rocky hillside. He could be anywhere.”

“I'll deal with him myself if he shows up.”

And off she went, without looking back.

Raven blew out his breath, slapped his hat against his thigh and cursed his runaway tongue.

“You do have a way with women,” Blackowl taunted as he circled back to where Raven stood.

Raven rounded on his cousin. “You caused that.”

“I was testing you. And her. You both failed.”

“How did you know I was nearby?”

Blackowl scoffed sarcastically. “I'm Cheyenne. I know these things. I also know you have feelings for the woman.”

“You're right. I do. She drives me crazy and I'd like to strangle her,” Raven grumbled resentfully.

Blackowl shook his dark head. “No, cousin, she is taking the mean off your rough edges. Her magic is powerful and you should be wary. She is not right for you.”

“Tell me something I don't know,” he said dryly.

“Very well then, I will. You became possessive and jealous when you thought I was a threat to her. You disapproved of my methods of assuring Eva that she is not prepared for unexpected attacks. I had to make it
feel
real if she was to take me seriously and fight back. She needs to learn skills to protect herself. Will you teach her or shall I? If I do it then do not criticize my techniques.”

“I'll do it,” Raven insisted.

“But don't enjoy it too much, cousin.” Blackowl smiled wryly. “It's hard not to, I can tell you from experience.”

Raven scowled as his cousin took the reins to lead all three horses away so he could continue the training. Eva's blood-red bay gelding pranced away from him, drawing his annoyed snort.

“You have several strong, sturdy horses in your herd,” Blackowl pointed out. “Why did you pick this contrary beast for Eva?”

“She picked out the red devil herself.”

“That explains it,” Blackowl said as he watched the horse sidestep then lay back his ears. “If he bites me I'm going to bite him back.”

As Blackowl walked off, Raven glanced toward the copse of trees where Eva had disappeared, then he sighed in frustration. Hell! He should have kept his trap shut about his ongoing suspicions of her ulterior motive. But he'd been insulted when she accused him of siccing Blackowl on her to make a point.

In addition, the woman was complicating his life until hell wouldn't have it. Now his cousin was rubbing his conflicting feelings for Eva in his face.

With one last glance toward the springs, Raven strode back to the cabin. He decided to give Eva—and himself—a few minutes to cool off before he stood guard over her. Otherwise, it might become a contest over who killed whom first.

 

Gordon Carter smiled devilishly as he stared through the spyglass, watching Eva storm off alone. “Perfect timing,” he snickered. He'd like nothing better than to take Eva hostage to lure in her protectors and dispose of them one by one.

He changed his clothes hastily then grabbed another hat. Leaving his horse tethered in the rocky hills, so that pesky half-breed couldn't find it, he transferred his gear to the sturdy mule he'd acquired from its recently deceased owner.

Like a mountain lion on the prowl, he went in search of the woman who had made the crucial mistake of venturing off alone. He grinned, calculating how much money he could make when he ransomed Eva to her naive little sister, who had played right into his hands and provided him with plenty of money already. Gordon never bypassed golden opportunity.

And there was a lot more money where that came from, Gordon reminded himself. It was his for the taking.

 

Roger Philbert trotted his horse toward the stage station that Evangeline Hallowell had specified in her note. He still had no idea why his longtime friend and neighbor had left the carriage there and why she wanted him to fetch it. This entire affair was puzzling to him, but he did as she asked of him.

Dismounting, Roger dusted off his stylish jacket and breeches then entered the crude building to locate the off-duty agent. The barrel-shaped proprietor was sweeping crumbs from the floor and tossing them to the furry dog waiting outside the window.

“I've come to retrieve the buggy for my friend,” Roger announced.

“Who might you be?” The owner leaned heavily on his broom handle then huffed and puffed for breath.

“Roger Philbert. Did Eva tell you to expect me?”

The man nodded then wiped the sweat from his brow. “She also said you'd pay me for keeping a close eye on the carriage until you showed up.”

Roger snorted caustically. “I know Eva exceptionally well and I'm absolutely certain she paid you generously for your services. Now, where is the horse?”

“Didn't have the chance to buy that magnificent animal,” the stationmaster replied. “The gent who sold the carriage to me rode off on the horse.”

Roger blinked in surprise. “What man?”

“Gordon something-or-other.”

Roger was stunned. “You
bought
it from him?”

“Didn't I just say so?”

Apparently, Roger was lacking several details that Eva had purposely omitted from her brief note. “Then how did Eva get here?”

The owner stared at Roger as if he were dense. “On the stagecoach with her husband, of course. She bought the buggy and got shot at. Then they piled into the stagecoach with the other four passengers and sped off.”

“Shot at?”
Roger crowed in disbelief. He braced his arm against the rough-hewn wall for support.
“Husband?”
His head spun like a windmill while he tried to grasp the startling information.

“Yep, surprised the hell out of me, too,” the owner confided. “A woman like her married to a half-breed bounty hunter? Ask me, that's a big mistake. Someone came gunning for him already and she got caught in the line of fire.”

“Good God!” Roger howled.

Roger couldn't believe what he was hearing. Eva was the most independent-minded and spirited woman he knew. And he knew very well who her new husband was. He couldn't imagine why she would marry Raven. She had sworn off men and then poof! Had she lost her mind?

A wary thought occurred to Roger and he frowned in concern. Had that brutish scoundrel coerced her, in exchange for agreeing to take her mysterious assignment?

Obviously, the case had something to do with Gordon Carter…which must be why Eva asked him and Sadie to check in on Lydia. Just what had happened between Lydia and Gordon that put Eva on the warpath? He didn't like the speculations swirling around in his head.

Maybe he should contact the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency to check in to this situation, Roger mused. Considering Eva's great wealth, she might become a hostage held for ransom by her mismatched husband.

Roger tried to make sense of the puzzling events. If Eva had been allowed to send a note to retrieve the buggy, and she had been in plain sight of other passengers and the stationmaster, she could have called out for help. Then again, who would dare to clash with the legendary bounty hunter, even to rescue a hostage? Had Raven threatened to kill the other passengers if Eva didn't pretend to be his willing bride?

His head spun with several more scenarios, none of which seemed to fit. Roger hurried off to hitch his horse to the carriage. He recalled what an angry, determined state Eva had been in the last time he'd seen her. She was not one to wait for someone else to resolve her problems. She always took the initiative. So why marry Raven? What purpose did it serve?

Eva and that gunslinger? Together? The very idea was beyond preposterous, Roger thought as he reined the abandoned buggy toward Denver and raced home lickety-split.

 

Eva plopped down on a boulder beside the springs then cursed Raven up one side and down the other. When she exhausted her repertoire of epithets, she huffed out her breath. She told herself that she should focus on Blackowl's eye-opening lesson and learn to defend herself and remain on constant alert,
not
dwell on her riptide feelings for Raven.

She vowed she'd learn to handle a pistol and knife expertly like Raven and his cousin. By damn, she would
not
be ill-prepared again—ever.

The sound of crackling twigs put her senses on alert—that in itself was the first line of defense, she realized. She bounded to her feet but kept her head down as she zigzagged in and out of the trees and underbrush. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a mule. She began screaming her head off, hoping that whoever was stalking her would think twice about attacking while she was running straight toward the cabin.