"They weren't married then, Raven."
Her eyes narrowed. "That makes it even worse, because it proves everything he ever told my mother was a lie. He just used her to nurse him back to health, used her to take his pleasure the way men do with a woman, then tossed her aside. Through the years, I tried to make myself believe maybe he really did love her when they were together, and something happened to keep him from coming back. Now I know I was only fooling myself. He never intended to return."
"You're wrong. Something did happen, and he'll explain it all to you himself, but I think you should know his wife is dead. She passed away several years ago, before I went to work for him. According to Ned, they were never happy together, but that's for him to tell you about, not me."
Raven was unmoved. "Liars and cheats seldom find happiness." She managed to untie Diablo with one hand while still holding the knife and keeping an eye on Steve, lest he make a move toward his gun. And if he did, she would send the blade slicing into his hand before he even touched his holster. She was just that good. "So now his children can have his money."
"They're his stepchildren. His wife was a widow when Ned married her. Ned's wealth is rightfully yours."
She felt a flash of satisfaction to think he'd never had any other children of his own. Still, she wanted no part of him or his money. "It doesn't matter. I was doing just fine before you came along. I wish now I had refused to be your guide, but no, I had to be nosy and try to find out why you were looking for me. I shouldn't have given a damn—because I don't."
It was Steve's turn to sneer. "You call it fine to rub dirt on your face to keep anyone from wanting to look at you and see you're really a girl? And what about having to wear your hair over your eyes so that you're almost blind? That's a miserable way to live."
"That's over now. I'll go somewhere else and be me."
"What makes you think it will be any different anywhere else? I've got a feeling those young bucks gave you a hard time because you're a half-breed. I've heard how they frown on mixing blood."
"Well, I doubt I'd be welcomed in Alabama either."
"Nobody would dare look down on Ned Ralston's daughter," Steve countered, hoping it was true but fearing Lisbeth and Julius would never accept her.
"It makes no difference, because I'm not going. I've had enough of prejudice to last me a lifetime. I'm sick of feeling like I'm supposed to apologize for being born or having to pretend I'm something I'm not. So you can go back to my father"—She rolled her eyes—"God, how it sticks in my craw to call him that, and tell him I refused to help ease his conscience before he dies. I think he deserves to suffer for what he did. Or you can just say you couldn't find me. It doesn't matter.
"Now," she ordered. "I want you to take your gun from your holster very slowly and toss it in those bushes over there so you won't get any ideas about trying to wing me. I'll get on Diablo and ride out of here, and nobody gets hurt. Otherwise, I swear I will cut you before you can slap leather."
He knew she meant it, and something told him she could do it. He did as she said.
She swung up on the mustang, took the reins in one hand, and with her other pointed the knife toward a distant rise. "If you keep in that direction, you should make the Sabine in about three days, riding steady. The way I was going would have taken six. Try to have eyes in the back of your head. Take cover if you see dust rising; that means horses, probably Indians. Don't make any fires, and don't chance traveling by night. You'll only get lost."
She reached and untied his horse.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He started toward her, but she held up the knife. He froze but protested, "I can't walk all that distance. Are you crazy?"
"I'll let him go when I've gone far enough that you won't have time to run him down and come after me. I really don't want to kill you."
She could not deny the warmth of desire that spread through her body to remember the sight of his naked body, and, yes, how despite the terror of the moment it had felt so good when he had held her, touched her.
It was that sensuous longing that provoked her to admit, "Now that we will never see each other again, I don't mind telling you that you made me feel very strange. You made me"—she drew a deep, ragged breath, wondering if she should continue, then recklessly did so—"you made me want to be a woman for the first time in my life."
She fell silent for a moment, then said with a faint, sad smile, "Take care of yourself, Steve Maddox. I really wish you well."
She dug in her heels to send Diablo into a clattering gallop, taking Steve's horse with her.
Steve quickly retrieved his gun, put it back in his holster, and stood with his hands on his hips to watch her ride away.
He smiled at the sight of her firm, rounded buttocks slightly bouncing on the mustang's back. He had never noticed before, but then why would he have cared what an Indian boy's butt looked like?
He grinned to think of how she had all but admitted he had aroused her and remembered all the times he had been immodest, unaware a woman was around. How embarrassed she must have been, but he felt no embarrassment himself for he was blameless.
Raven Ralston, he knew beyond all doubt, was unlike any female he had ever known in his life. He admired her for her spunk and grit and could think of no other woman who could do what she had done—pass for a boy and an Indian scout. But he also felt sorry for her to know the hell she must have gone through to make her go to such desperate means to deny her own gender.
He supposed he could understand why she felt the way she did about Ned. It must have been a lot to swallow all at once, his wanting to step into her life, unannounced after so many years. She'd had plenty of time to harden her heart toward him and no reason at all to feel anything good for him anyway.
As for Ned, while Steve had heard his explanation as to why things happened as they did, it wasn't up to him to judge whether it was right or wrong. And whether or not Ned had actually deceived Lakoma and lied to her—as Raven believed—one thing was for certain: he had suffered deeply.
But regardless of whether Ned needed atonement before dying or whether Raven was justified in wanting no part of him and the life he offered, Steve was determined that each of them would have a chance to find out.
He put his fingers to his mouth and gave a long, loud whistle.
As Steve had dared to hope, the horse didn't care who whistled. He just did what he had been trained to do at the sound, and, with a wild kick, he bucked, and Raven, caught by surprise, sailed over his head.
Steve took off running. She was still dazed by the time he reached her, and he was able to snatch her knife from the sheath at her belt before she rallied enough to go for it.
Her eyes were like burning coals as she glared up at him. She sat on her bottom, arms stretched out behind her, palms flat against the ground, legs wide. "Damn you, Steve Maddox. You'll be sorry."
He gave a lopsided grin and held out his hand. "Don't blame me, sweetheart. Blame Diablo."
She knocked his hand away and got to her feet.
Walking over to Diablo, she gave his rump a sound pat and called him a traitor, but he merely quirked an ear and stretched to gobble a dandelion.
"This doesn't change anything. I'm still not going." She prepared to mount again, but Steve yanked her back.
"You're going if I have to hog-tie you and throw you across that mustang's back like a sack of potatoes, because I intend to do what Ned Ralston asked me to do—bring you to him. He's dying. And the least you can do is hear him out and let him go to his grave in peace. After that, I don't care what you do."
She could tell by the fire in his eyes and the set of his jaw that he meant what he said. "Well then, I guess I don't have much choice," she said coldly, evenly. "You've got my knife."
"That's right. Now let's ride. Thanks to you I've wasted a lot of time, and I intend for us to make tracks for Alabama now as fast as we can. And I don't intend to listen to any whining about how tired you are."
; She swung up on Diablo and met his determined gaze with one of her own. "You won't hear me complain, mister, but like I said—you'll be sorry."
She didn't know it, but he already was. And as he headed for his own horse he found himself wishing he had refused Ned and not got involved.
Because something told him life at Halcyon—a word he knew meant peaceful and calm—was never going to be the same.
And it just might, he mused wryly, even be necessary to change the name once Raven arrived.
Chapter 8
Raven refused to talk to him, no matter how hard he tried to engage her in conversation. She had held a tiny hope that, once they reached the reservation, she could enlist help from one of the agents by telling him she was being taken to Alabama against her will. But Steve obviously anticipated her plan, for when they finally reached the Sabine River, he turned south instead of heading north toward the reservation. Realizing what he was doing, she grudgingly spoke to remind him they were short on supplies.
Steve knew it, just as he knew she had probably been planning to scream for help if they went to the reservation. He tossed her a complacent smile. "Well, I'll give your bow back to you long enough to shoot us another rabbit, but I'll make sure to stand behind you, in case you get any ideas about misdirecting the arrow."
"Don't bother. I'm not finding any more food for you. You can starve for all I care."
"You'll starve right along with me."
"I'd rather starve than go where you're taking me."
"You know, you really should be ashamed of yourself," he admonished. "Your father is dying, but you don't care. You're so bull-headed you won't even give him a chance to make amends."
"What chance did he give me and my mother? He didn't care what happened to us. He went back to his rich life and married another woman."
"He's got a side to the story too, Raven, and whether you want to or not you're going to hear it. But now hear me. We can have a nice trip, and I can tell you what it's like there and answer any questions you've got, or you can keep on pouting and be miserable. It's up to you."
She gave an indignant sniff. "You mean to tell me I suddenly have a say in things?"
"Act like a brat," he said curtly. "I don't give a damn."
Raven lapsed back into her angry, brooding silence.
The road along the river went through a district of poor and sandy soil thickly wooded with pine. They passed abandoned farms for a day, then sighted cotton growing on the riverbanks, a little corn, and soon a farmhouse came into view. The occupants were glad for company and obliged them with the best meal Steve had had since leaving Fort Inge. Raven likewise enjoyed the meal of boiled crayfish but was not about to say so, maintaining her stony silence. Before they rode on, however, she did whisper her gratitude to the farmer's wife.
Steve overheard her, and after they had ridden away he said, "That was nice of you, Raven. I'm glad you realize there's no need in being rude to others because you're mad at me."
She ignored him.
They reached a settlement in Louisiana. After buying a simple muslin dress and undergarments for Raven, even though she grumbled, he sent her to a bathhouse to clean up while he waited outside to make sure she didn't try to run away. He was tired of her disheveled appearance, and when she finally came out, freshly scrubbed, her black hair washed, silky soft, and brushed free of all tangles, he couldn't help telling her how pretty she was. "What a waste for you to pretend to be anything but what you are, Raven—a lovely young woman."
She glared at him and stuck out her tongue.
He thought about loading up with supplies and riding straight through to Alabama but decided instead to take the necessary time to illustrate to Raven that people could be nice. He had come to the conclusion her past experiences with society had not been pleasant for her.
There was no shortage of hospitality on the trails. People were glad for company.
They stopped at another house, where they were served supper by the light of pine knots blazing in the chimney, with their hosts apologizing for the absence of candles. The jug of blackberry wine served with the fresh Gulf shrimp more than made up for any inconvenience, however. Steve noted Raven also seemed to enjoy it, and before the meal had ended, she had opened up a bit and begun to talk to the couple's daughter.
When it was time to sleep, the man of the house—Judd Hannibal—assuming Steve and Raven were married, said, "You two can have that bed in the corner. We ain't got but one other room built on the back, but the kids can sleep in there with me and their ma for tonight."
Steve looked at Raven, expecting her to protest. When they camped at night, he always knotted a rope around her ankle, looping the other end around his arm. That way he woke every time she turned over, so there was no chance of her trying to run away. But he did give her a long enough rope that she could sleep on the other side of bushes, for her privacy. Now, however, they had been offered a bed to share, and he was expecting her to declare they weren't man and wife. Instead, he was surprised to hear her thank Mr. Hannibal sweetly for being so kind.
When they were alone, the room alive with golden shadows playing on the walls, Steve said, "You can have the bed, and I'll take the floor. But I'll be right in front of the door in case you get any ideas," he added, annoyed to see her looking at him so smugly.
"That's nice of you, Mr. Maddox. And since I'm so tired, I think I'll turn in right now."
He took a blanket from the bed and spread it before the door. Then, as he began to unbutton his shirt, planning, as usual, to sleep only in his trousers, he was startled to see that Raven had taken off her clothes and stood naked. His eyes locked on her breasts, which reminded of ripe golden apples in the shimmering firelight, but there was no time to allow his gaze to travel downward, for he had only one brief, tantalizing glimpse before she turned away.
He stared, pulse racing, as she stretched her arms high over her head and faked a prolonged yawn before saying nonchalantly, "It's really hot in here, but since it's not my house, I certainly can't say anything if they insist on not drowning the fire in the grate."
His gaze riveted upon her buttocks, high, firm, and round, and he felt a quivering within as she moved sensuously, sassily, to pull back the blanket on the bed. When she finally lay down, uncovered, he sucked in his breath to see how her in the fire's dwindling light.
Raven felt him staring and was glad he could not see her face, for surely her cheeks burned with embarrassment. But she had to do it, she told herself over and over, in order to make her scheme work.
Steve watched, fascinated by the rise and fall of her bosom. And was it his imagination, he wondered, a bit wildly, or were her nipples hard? He gave himself a vicious shake, along with a silent admonition for acting like a horny young boy. He knew she was just trying to tease him, arouse him, make him miserable with wanting her. Hadn't she promised he'd be sorry for making her go with him? It was all part of her threat, and he'd be damned if he would let her get to him.
"I know what you're trying to do," he said finally, harshly. "Just make sure you cover yourself before old Hannibal comes in here in the morning. You might give him ideas," he added to make her think he was not impressed.
But Raven was not fooled. She had seen the way he reacted, had heard his rapid breathing. He would be miserable all night long, thinking about her naked only a few feet away. She wanted him to suffer, wanted him to feel the same stirrings she had experienced when he'd thought her a boy and unknowingly enticed her. Let him agonize as she had. And if he lost control and tried to force himself upon her, so much the better. Here, she would scream and bring Mr. Hannibal running, and then she'd tell the truth and accuse Steve of rape. But if he waited till they were back on the trail to attack, then she would best him in another way, for he was not yet aware of how proficient she was in hand-to-hand combat. Some of the young braves on the reservation had been glad to teach her all she needed to know to protect herself against white men when her body was her only weap
on.
* * *
Steve was miserable.
Being alone with her since discovering her ruse had not bothered him till now, because he knew she was deliberately trying to arouse him. So he was a long time falling asleep, and when he awoke, the sun was full in his face.
Bolting upright, it all came back to him: where he was, what he was doing there, and, with a jolt of panic, the memory of how he had positioned himself in front of the door to keep Raven from escaping. But now the door was wide open and the bed she'd slept in was empty.
He hurried out to the porch, only to stop short to see her fully dressed and sitting in the wood swing.
She turned to smile at him sweetly, innocently, as she pushed against the plank floor with her toes to make the swing move ever so gently to and fro. "The door opened out instead of in, Mr. Maddox, so I didn't have to wake you in leaving after all."
He stuck his hands behind his back so she couldn't see how they were clenched in frustration. "Why didn't you run away?"
Wanting to annoy him even more by not answering his question, she changed the subject. "The horses are fed, watered, and ready to go. Shall we wake up the Hannibals to thank them or just be on our way?"
"We ride," he said snappily. "The sooner I deliver you to your father, the quicker I can be rid of the responsibility for you." He went to gather his things, bristling all the while.
As they rode farther into Louisiana, Raven was impressed by the beauty of the land. They were no longer in uncivilized territory, and she marveled at roadside fences made by flower hedges.
"Cherokee rose and sweetbriar," Steve said grudgingly when she asked what kind of blossoms they were.
She could tell he was still mad, because now he was the one who wanted to sulk. She decided to irritate him with more questions. "It looks as though they were first planted by the side of an ordinary rail fence, which must have served as some kind of trellis, and as they got bigger, they matted together and became a thicket. What are those other flowers?" She pointed.
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