Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance (10 page)

Tucker climbed higher into the rocks until he reached a point near the top of the ridge overlooking the Rio Grande. From here he could see the entire canyon below and the formation of sandstone cresting the other side.

Across the river, near the top where he and Raven had spent the night in the cave, he saw them.
Damn
. Indians. Arapaho, he decided from their dress. Were they following Raven? This was Apache and Comanche country. There was no other reason for them to be here, unless they were planning to do a little treasure hunting too.

And what were they looking at? Tucker knew that the miner’s cabin was totally hidden from view, unless their smoke had given them away.

No, it wasn’t that. He waited and watched. He heard the sound before he saw the riders. Mexicans, on the floor of the canyon. They were still searching for Luce. If they kept snooping around, sooner or later they’d stumble onto the way up.

Making no attempt to hide their arrival, the bandits rode brazenly forward along the river, then paused to water the horses.

Tucker cut his gaze back to the top. The Indian who seemed to be in charge gestured angrily toward the trail below. The Arapaho waited in silence, watching as the horses drank nervously. Tucker thought about Raven, the old man and himself, in that same spot earlier. He felt like bait in a steel trap which was already set and ready for the animal to make a wrong move. If he was spotted, they’d find Raven. If the bandits didn’t find their trail, the Indians would.

Unless he managed to get her away first.

He needed a distraction to provide cover for his
movement. Tucker searched the ground around him for a good-sized rock. He was no discus thrower, but all he had to do was get the rock to a place upriver from both groups. With any luck, if he hit granite, the echo would confuse both. Better still, a confrontation would make both the Indians and the bandits find another prey. Slipping to a place where he would have a better angle, Tucker threw the rock with all his might.

Seconds later he heard a sharp ping, then a second one. At that point all hell broke loose. The bandits caught sight of the Indians about the time the Indians got off the first volley of shots. But even in the midst of battle, one Indian kept a lookout. It was no contest. In less than a minute, five Mexicans were dead. The others had found shelter behind an outcropping of rock.

So far as Tucker could tell, the Indians hadn’t lost a man. But he hadn’t been able to leave either. Now he didn’t dare try for fear of being seen. In the meantime his stomach seemed to reach down and tickle his knees. He was glad he didn’t have to stand. Looking down into the canyon took his breath away. He couldn’t have run if he’d wanted to.

To his surprise the Indians rode away. Why they’d ambushed the bandits and not followed through to take their guns and horses was a puzzle.

Unless they were after a bigger prize. Unless they were all searching for the same thing. It made sense for the bandits to be after Luce, but the Arapaho? They had to be after Raven. Somehow they must have learned about the secret treasure.

Tucker dropped to his belly and slid away from the edge until he could come to a crouch. The outcropping of rock took a turn to the left where he could make his way back to his horse and the cabin. He didn’t trust either
the Indians or the bandits. He needed to get Raven and Luce far enough away from the cabin that they wouldn’t be trailed. And he needed to do it soon.

Raven managed to get a small amount of liquid into the old man, but not enough to keep him alive. It was almost impossible for him to swallow.

Where was Tucker? She’d heard gunshots earlier. Now he’d been gone for hours. Was he dead? Did she dare leave Luce to search for him?

As the shadows of late afternoon crept across the side of the mountain where the cabin was located, she walked toward the door and looked out over the sprawling scattering of rock.

She felt uneasy. But there were no voices, no chanting. The whole world had gone silent. Something was waiting out there.

Something threatening, hazy, just beyond her mind’s eye. It was big, imposing, solid yet shadowy. She found herself looking up, narrowing her eyes so that she could find the presence that she could feel, yet not see. There was something vaguely familiar about it. Whatever it was, she’d encountered it before and it was a threat. And then she knew. The huge bronze man from her vision with Tucker. Was it real? Or was it Tucker’s presence that brought her such a sense of both fear and anticipation?

No, it was more than that.

Beware the bronze dagger
, the voice said.
You will know, Raven—soon
.

Tucker spent most of the night at the top of the canyon, watching for any sign that their trail had been discovered. But morning came without intruders.

He couldn’t just sit and wait. He had to know what was happening. It took most of the next day, but he managed to cover the entire upper ridge that separated the cabin from the valley where the river flowed.

Everything seemed quiet. Too quiet. The bodies of the bandits were gone, and no campfires signaled the presence of the Arapaho. Still, there was something eerie about the silence.

One lone buzzard made low, lazy circles downriver. Heat waves shimmered in the late afternoon sun as shadows washed the red from the canyon walls, turning them gray with the loss of light.

He’d spent more time than he’d planned scouting the area, finding one excuse after another to keep himself away from the cabin, from Raven. He knew that Luce was dying. Once that happened, he’d be left alone with a woman who was reaching out to him in a way he could neither understand nor stop. His thoughts shied away from
what had happened at the waterfall. He didn’t want to think how close he’d come to …

The whole thing was downright spooky. If he were drinking, he might have passed it off to bad whiskey. But he was cold sober. It was more powerful than anything he’d ever encountered.

Once the old man was buried, they’d look for the treasure. If they found it, he’d take his part and move on. She could buy her land. No, damn it, he couldn’t walk away and leave a woman alone, at the mercy of Indians and bandits. Not now and not then. As much as he talked to himself, he couldn’t get away from the fact that protecting Raven Alexander had become an obsession. It was the most important thing he’d ever done. He just didn’t know why.

Finally, when the light was almost gone, he started back. At least whoever had built the original cabin had done a good job of finding a place that was hidden from the world. The more he studied the surrounding area, the more Tucker decided that many others had been here before. The pathways were worn, if one knew where to look.

Even now he sensed the presence of others. That was what made him so uneasy. There were no physical signs, but he could feel the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

Christ! You’re beginning to sound like Raven, hearing voices when there are none
. He let out a measured sigh. The sooner they moved away from this place the better he’d feel.

As he skirted a low cluster of boulders he saw her. She stood in the doorway, watching him as he came down the ridge from the north. There was something comforting about her presence, about knowing that she waited for him.

“How’s the old man?” Tucker asked her when he reached the cabin.

“He’s sleeping.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Only that he’s always been here. This was his father’s home and his grandfather’s. The family believed they were to be guardians over the sacred mountains.”

Tucker stopped just short of the cabin. “Did he identify which part of the mountain he was guarding?”

She shook her head. “If you mean did he tell me where the treasure is hidden, no, he didn’t. All he says is follow the water to the place where the light of the moon meets the light of the sun. If I hadn’t seen the nuggets, I would say he didn’t know anything.”

There was something odd about her acceptance of their situation, as if she were looking past him, seeing something in the rocks in the distance. “What is it?” he asked, turning to follow her gaze.

Shaking her head, she moved back inside. “It’s nothing, just something about the way the light falls on the mountain up there. Come and eat.”

Tucker looked back at the mountain. The sunlight was gone now, leaving only the pale light of the rising moon. He could see nothing unusual. But the feeling of being watched still plagued him.

“If we’re going to be here long, I’ll have to find a better source of food,” he said. “I don’t know what the old man planned to eat. The burro’s pack was empty.”

“He had gone into town. Probably intended to buy supplies.” Raven dished up some rabbit stew for Tucker. “But you’re right. This area is too barren for berries and wild plants. I’ll have to get back to the river.”

“No!”

She looked up, puzzled at the vehemence of his word. “Why?”

“The bandits returned. And there are some new players in this game, some of your own.”

“My own what?”

“People. Indians. There’s a small band of Arapaho on your trail. Friends of yours?”

She sank down on the rough bench beside the table and thought about what he’d said. But she could find no connection. Only a sense of dread. “No. I don’t think so. Did they see you?”

Tucker picked up a tin pan and placed it on the shelf Luce’s family used for a worktable. He poured water over his hands, washed them, and splashed it over his face. Grabbing a cloth beside the jug, he dried his hands, allowing a grin to curl his lips as he realized that his towel was another part of the ruffle from his spirit woman’s petticoat.

“See me? Oh, no. They were here earlier. At that time they were too busy to worry about me. But they’ll be back.”

“What were they doing?”

“They were watching the valley.” He didn’t want to tell her about the attack. “You know we aren’t safe here.” Tucker took his place across the table and ate vigorously.

“But we can’t leave Luce and he—he—”

“I know. Three days. Tomorrow is the third day since we found him. Do you think he’ll last that long?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. But we must wait. Then we must bury him, according to his instructions.”

“I know, shave his head. If we don’t get ours shaved first.”

“The Arapaho don’t take scalps anymore, Tucker. And the only reason they’d attack you is if they thought you were trespassing on sacred ground.”

Sacred ground. That explained their actions—maybe.

In the middle of the night, Tucker let himself out of the cabin and began to pace. He’d spent uncomfortable nights in his time, but in comparison, the loneliness of the prairie and the cold wind of a winter ice storm were preferable. Alone on the range, all you thought of was your own misery. Here, all he could hear was Raven’s soft breathing. All he could think about was the torment of being so close to her without touching her.

The tension that had been there from the first continued to grow, twisting his gut, leaving him open-eyed and unable to be still. Like riding a devil horse, he had to hold on and he dare not let go, else he’d be trampled in the fray.

What he wanted to do was climb on Yank and hightail it out of these mountains, back to some ranch that needed a loner to ride fences. Once, he even started toward his horse.

But something stopped him. A woman who needed him. A woman he couldn’t walk away from.

“Tucker?” The voice of his tormentor came through the darkness from inside the cabin. “Were you ever a soldier?”

“Yes?”

“And did you do a lot of marching?”

“Not if I could help it.”

“Then why are you starting now?”

He frowned. What in hell was she talking about? “Is there something wrong in there?”

“Nothing that a little quiet can’t fix. If you’re having trouble sleeping, I could fix you a potion.”

“If I needed a potion, I have my own.” He patted the pint of whiskey he’d so carefully protected for the last two days. “Maybe,” he offered with a grin, “you’d like to join me.”

“Go to sleep, Tucker. You’re safe tonight.”