by Francis Ray
Duncan stared at Raven a few moments longer, then lightly touched his heels to the stallion’s flanks, leaving her to follow.
Duncan loved everything about the country—the vastness, the endless skies overhead, and the towering mountains in the distance. He might have been born in Santa Fe, but Montana had long since become his adopted home. He’d live and die here. He couldn’t imagine living anyplace else—even with the present problems.
He glanced over to find Raven had once again lagged behind. It wasn’t her riding skills. He’d been concerned about that. But she handled the horse as easily as he might have. Yet she kept falling behind. “Is there a problem?”
Guiltily she jerked her head toward him. “Sorry. It’s just so beautiful here that I’m having a difficult time paying attention to landmarks to find the cave myself in the morning.”
Her statement caught him off-guard. His ex-wife had thought the countryside too isolated, too stark. In the low country, there were more scrubs than trees. His housekeeper thought the same thing. Neither saw the beauty.
“You’re blessed to live here,” Raven said, finally catching up.
He gazed at her face, startlingly beautiful and free of makeup except for cherry-colored lip gloss. Her unbound long black hair whipped in the wind. He saw the truth of her words in her shining eyes. She wasn’t trying to con him.
“I know.” He nodded toward a rocky hillside a hundred yards away. A small ledge overhead would make it easy to locate again. “We’re almost there.”
“I’m getting goose bumps.” Excitement rang in her voice.
Like Rooster said, she was different. What woman relished the idea of spending times alone in a cave or digging in dirt? Duncan’s ex always wanted every hair in place, her makeup on, before she came downstairs. “How did you get into this?” he asked before he could help himself.
Raven brought her horse beside his before answering. “My father is with the Army Corps of Engineers. So we traveled all over the world. While I didn’t like moving, I enjoyed learning about different people’s cultures and history, became fascinated by their lives and history.”
“How did you end up in Santa Fe?” he asked as he dismounted.
“One of those fated events.” She dismounted. “I’d seen a travel documentary on television and thought I’d like to settle there. I always wanted to teach at a small college with a good academic reputation. Luckily there was a position open at St. John’s.”
“And Ms. Grayson?” He tied his reins to a stunted shrub.
“On the welcoming committee. She’s become a good friend. Sierra helped me find a house.” Raven followed suit, then glanced around. “Are we near the site?”
“You’re looking at it.” Duncan began pulling brush away from what appeared to be the side of the mountain.
Raven rushed to help when she saw a narrow opening. “A hidden cave!”
“I was out riding the range looking for strays when I was caught in a sudden thunderstorm. I saw a jackrabbit, then a second one run into the brush at a dead run. I investigated and found—”
“The cave,” Raven finished, staring at the opening in the side of the mountain that spanned five feet across. “I’ll get my flashlight.”
“No need.” Stooping, Duncan entered, then stopped three feet inside the cave to pick up a high-beamed lantern. “I brought this out here a week later to explore the cave and decided to leave it. That way if I happened to be in the area and had time, I could check it out.”
“A week later?” She eagerly reached for the lantern, moving ahead as the cave widened to span several feet across. “You certainly have more restraint than I do.”
“The ranch is my main priority.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yet you recognized the importance of the cave paintings. You didn’t dismiss them.”
“There’s been a lot in the newspaper about the Pictograph Caves in Billings and I visited them with Faith. It’s important to safeguard the history of any people,” he told Raven.
He understood the importance of preserving the past. He might not be too keen on her, but he was keen on recording earlier periods, and for now that was enough. Holding the lantern high, casting light on the wall, she went deeper into the cave.
Fifty feet farther, she saw the markings on the wall and went still. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. With trembling fingers she stopped an inch away from the walls. A chill raced down her spine. “There were left by the Ancient Ones. My ancestors. My People.”
“You think they’re real?”
“And thousands of years old,” she said, her voice hushed.
Duncan took the lantern, once again studying what some might consider children’s markings of stick figures. He hadn’t because he’d visited Pictograph Cave State Park with Faith and knew of the area’s history. “How can you be so sure?”
Raven’s hands continued to reverently hover over the drawings. “Because I feel their presence. I don’t need to use radiometry.” She gripped his arms and stepped closer as her excitement grew. “How far does it go?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
She jerked around toward him, disbelief on her face. She reached for the lantern. He held it out of reach. “You can give me yours, or I’m going to get my flashlight out of my pack. I’m not leaving here until I see how far the drawings go.”
“I don’t like threats.”
She blew out an impatient breath. “Duncan, we may be standing on one of the greatest scientific discoveries in this area since the Pictograph Caves were found before World War Two. You own this land. Without your consent I couldn’t be here, as we both well know. I’d be a fool to make threats.”
He looked at her a long time, then started deeper into the cave. “Stay behind me. An animal might have made a den in here,” he said, and continued.
She quickly caught up with him, stepping beside him. He stopped and glared at her. She was glad the poor lighting blunted his disapproval. ”You’re a big man. I can see better this way.”
“You also can get hurt.”
“So could you,” she told him. “We’re wasting time. If you’re called away, I’m not sure about my horse’s ability to find her way back.”
He didn’t move. “When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out.”
Patience, she reminded herself. Duncan held the key to her future. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is be injured and have to leave. I’ll be careful, but as I said, I can’t see walking behind. I could just as easily stumble and fall.”
He watched her a few moments longer. She couldn’t tell in the dim light whether the thought of her leaving appealed to him or not. Her consolation, if there was one, was that he took his responsibility as owner of the Double D seriously; that meant keeping her safe. Without a word, he started walking again.
Ten steps farther, the cave widened. Light pierced the darkness for the first time in perhaps thousands of years. Raven’s breath caught. Excitement flooded through her veins.
“Oh, my goodness!” Her hand clutched his arm. “Look! That’s a picture of a bison that has been extinct for thousands of years. The Ancient People moved though this area, following the water and food sources. The series of rims in this area run to Yellowstone Park.”
She urged him forward. “Oh my, let’s see what else there is. Hurry, Duncan.”
“You’re holding my arm,” he said, his voice rough.
“Oh,” she said, quickly removing her hand. “I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away. I wish Ruth could be here.”
“So do I,” Duncan mumbled, and began walking.
Raven dismissed his comment. This was too important to let personal feelings get in the way. She—Her thoughts stumbled to a halt when she saw the red markings. Two, four, and then dozens.
“I’ll be,” Duncan said, his voice hushed.
Raven couldn’t speak. They stood in a chamber about twelve feet tall and everywhere light touched
there were colored drawings, iconography, depicting animals, a basic theme, beside human representations and other signs found in caves.
She was looking at a major find. As far as she knew, in the Billings pictograph caves all were simplistic drawings, with no colorization.
“Do you realize what this means? How important this could be? Nothing like this has been seen in this area.”
Duncan heard the words, but it was the woman who drew him. He gazed at her upturned face, felt the irresistible pull of her body. Desire arched between them. He saw it in the widening of her eyes, the delicate flare of her nostrils. Her hand flexed on his arm. He needed to step back, away from temptation.
“Duncan.” His name was a ragged whisper of sound on lips that he’d give his last breath to taste.
Muttering a curse, Duncan pulled her into the shelter of his body, holding her against him as his mouth greedily took hers. She opened for him without a moment’s hesitation. His tongue thrust inside hers, tasted the fire, the passion.
She pressed against him, kissing him back, her soft breasts flattening against his hard chest, her lower body pressing against his growing need. He wanted more, had to have it.
The thump of the lantern falling from his hand and hitting the ground snapped him out of his passionate daze. He peered down at her, her face in half shadows, but he could hear her heavy breathing, feel her soft, trembling body against his.
He staggered back, appalled by the lack of the control he’d always prided himself on, dazed by the stunning impact of the kiss that affected him as nothing else ever had.
Without a word he spun and walked toward the mouth of the cave, his eyes adjusting more and more to the dark with each angry step. Lord, what had he almost done?
Her body trembling so badly she could hardly stand, Raven watched Duncan leave the cave until darkness swallowed him. She hadn’t known a kiss could be so powerful, could take you under so fast.
Unsteady fingers touched her moist lips. She had reveled in the strength of Duncan’s arms, her heightened senses, and the hum of her body.
Obviously, Duncan didn’t share her thoughts. While she wasn’t pleased with the attraction, she didn’t understand why it angered him so much.
Picking up the lantern, she started back the way they’d come. If Duncan left, she wasn’t sure she could find her way back. As she had told him, the thought of relying on her horse’s sense of direction wasn’t reassuring.
Stepping outside, she immediately saw Duncan standing with a shrub in his gloved fist. His expression was closed, his body stiff and unbending.
Putting out the light, she placed the lantern back inside the cave and returned to grab a shrub to help him hide the mouth of the cave. As soon as they finished, Duncan mounted his horse.
“You’ll be able to bring your Jeep within fifty feet of here with your supplies. I’ll help you unload them in the morning, but as I told you, I don’t have a man to spare to watch over you.”
Raven got on her horse before replying. For some odd reason she felt at a distinct disadvantage looking up at him from the ground. “As I said, I’m self-sufficient. I appreciate the help with the supplies, but working alone won’t be a problem.” At his continued implacable stare, she felt compelled to add, “I don’t want or need a man.”
Duncan’s gaze heated and settled on her mouth that remembered too well the taste of his. Heat exploded in her body. She felt the response deep in her womb, and there was nothing she could do about it.
His gaze slowly lifted to hers. The confident look on his face said he could prove her wrong if he wanted.
Wheeling his horse, Duncan left her to follow. Raven felt like dismounting to find a rock to throw at his arrogant back. Because, God help her, he was right.
This time, on the way back to the ranch, Raven looked for landmarks. It was past time for her to remember why she was there. She was used to overcoming obstacles, beating the odds. She had no intention of letting an unwanted sexual attraction get in the way of her goal.
She’d been a fool once over a man and it had almost ruined her career. Paul Dunbar, well dressed, articulate, and gorgeous, had been in her master’s program. Most of the women in their class were after him. She’d been secretly thrilled when he’d asked her to be his study partner.
It wasn’t long before they became romantically involved, but unlike the few men she’d dated in the past, he accepted her decision not to have sex so soon in the relationship. He told her he was willing to wait.
Raven snorted and followed Duncan up a hill. Paul had been willing to wait all right—wait until she finished her thesis so he could steal it. He’d been so apologetic, so remorseful, when he’d accidentally knocked over her laptop, damaging it beyond repair, the night before her paper was due. She’d been frantic. She’d immediately called her professor. He hadn’t wanted to hear excuses. He wanted her thesis on his desk by one the next day.
The moment the library opened the next morning she went straight to a computer, well aware that there was no way what she wrote would be as good as what she’d lost. At one she turned in her paper, hoping, praying.
Later that evening she’d received a call from her professor to come to his office. She’d gone expecting the worst and found Paul there. The professor wanted an explanation as to why the papers were so similar. Paul immediately accused her of stealing his work. She’d been stunned, hurt, and then angry. She could defend what she’d written. She challenged him to do the same.
He hadn’t been able to answer one question the professor asked him. Trapped, he’d confessed that while she was in the kitchen he’d copied her file before destroying her laptop. He’d been expelled; she earned her master’s degree, but it could have ended much differently.
She’d promised herself never to let a man interfere with her career. Up until now, she had had no difficulty keeping that promise.
Duncan pulled up short just as Raven heard a bleating sound. “You have sheep?”
The incredulous look Duncan shot her bounced off. “Then what is it?” she asked.
“A fawn and it’s in trouble. Stay here.” Wheeling his stallion, Duncan rode off, disappearing over a hill.
“Not likely,” Raven mumbled, and followed. She topped the rise to see Duncan bent over what looked like a fawn. Not sure if her mare would stay if the reins were simply left on the ground like Duncan’s stallion had, Raven quickly dismounted, then tied them to a stunted sage bush and rushed over. Seeing the fawn tangled in the barbed wire, she instinctively reached to help.
“Don’t,” Duncan snapped. The still fawn bleated again and began to struggle. “Just stay back and for once do as you’re told.”
Raven straightened and moved back. On the other side of the fence stood the watchful, helpless mother.
Eventually Duncan stood with the fawn in his arms and put him on the other side of the fence. “Go to your mother.”
The young deer quickly joined his mother, who touched her nose to his, then bounded off, the fawn following. They disappeared over another hill and Duncan turned to Raven. “When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. I don’t intend to have this conversation again. Instead of a wire fence, it could have been a mountain lion.”
The thought of the fawn at the mercy of a predator took the anger from her. Her hand clutched at her throat. Then another thought occurred. “You didn’t have a gun.”
“I couldn’t have used it anyway,” he told her. “It’s off-season for hunting mountain lions.”
She stared at him, strong, unbending, and courageous. “What would you have done?”
“Taken care of it.” He went to his horse, his gait graceful, his back erect. She didn’t have a doubt he would have.
Mounting his horse, he waited until she was on hers. “Barbed wire is nasty. It can slice the skin or tear a chunk out of it.”
“I didn’t think—”
“You better if you want to stay here. I don’t have time to babysit.” Wheeling his st
allion, Duncan rode off.
Raven stuck her tongue out at him. It was childish but satisfying. She’d show Duncan McBride she didn’t need him or any other man. She was a woman to be reckoned with.
Arriving back at the ranch, Raven followed Duncan to the barn. Dismounting, he reached for the reins of her horse, his face as closed as it was forty minutes ago when they’d left the cave. It was as if the heated kiss that filled her with need and hunger had never happened.
Good.
Both of them were going to be sensible adults and forget the kiss ever happened. It certainly wouldn’t happen again. She had been caught up in the moment. He probably thought she had thrown herself at him.
Very bad.
“Thank you again,” she said, her voice as cool as his expression.
“You’re welcome.” Turning away, he entered the barn.
Her gaze narrowed at his unbending back, then fell to his prime rear. Telling herself she was glad he was able to dismiss her so easily was one thing, making herself believe it quite another. She might ignore men, but they didn’t ignore her—at least not until she met Duncan.
Head high, she went to the house and immediately up to her room to clean up. Finished, she pulled her cell phone from her handbag and dialed. While waiting, she sat on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. The call was answered on the third ring.
“Hello.”
A smile curved Raven’s lips on hearing Ruth Grayson’s warm voice. Raven pushed Duncan from her mind. “They’re authentic and in good condition. We might be looking at an amazing find.” She explained to Ruth what they’d discovered.
“Raven, that’s incredible news! I wish I could be there to see them,” Ruth said, her voice animated.
“Me, too.” Raven pulled one long leg under her hip. “They’re absolutely amazing and well preserved from what I was able to see. What’s really needed is a multidisciplinary team, but I’m glad he made the call to you.”
“Duncan must be excited as well,” Ruth went on to say. “It must have been wonderful sharing the experience together.”