by Francis Ray
She stood before him naked and proud. Gracefully she knelt in front of him.
“Back pocket,” he gritted out.
Raven found the condom package and tore it open with her teeth. Moving closer, she closed her hand around his hard length, rubbed the velvet top against her cheek, and blew across the top.
“Raven!” It was a warning.
She rolled the protection on, marveling at how rigid and long he was. Finished, she smiled at him. “Yes, I’m a very lucky woman.” Her hair tumbled over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his quivering stomach, moving up, her breasts and lower body sliding sensuously over his, inflaming both their senses.
By the time Raven straddled him, both were breathing heavily. His hands on her waist, hers firmly on his chest, she rode him hard, eagerly meeting the thrusts of his hips, gripping him tightly. Soon the pleasure overtook them both. She collapsed in his arms.
His arms closed around her, holding her to him. He’d finally found something to rival the strength and beauty of the land he loved so much, and he was holding her in his arms.
Duncan couldn’t ever remember enjoying a day more. Except for his riding Black Jack to open the parade, Raven had been with him since they’d arrived for the Independence Day celebration in Elks Ridge. As he’d expected, people had warmly greeted Raven. With her modesty and courage, she’d made herself known in the community.
He couldn’t be prouder of her as they watched the parade. He’d put Black Jack in the stable and made his way to her as soon as possible. He hadn’t minded the good-natured teasing of the men for rushing to get back to her. His focus had been on Raven.
He’d found her in front of the restaurant, in exactly the same spot where he’d left her and where they’d agreed to meet. She’d given him a smile and a flag and then applauded as the high school marching band passed. Next came several clowns passing out balloons and tossing taffy. He’d managed to snag her several pieces of the candy. She’d kept one and, with the mother’s permission, given the rest to the little girl beside her.
“Keepsake,” Raven whispered.
He knew exactly what she meant. With her, he treasured each moment. He’d taken a day off to remain in town. Usually, after the parade, he went back to work at the ranch, since he no longer competed in the rodeo. He’d been to only one of the dances. Too many women had designs on him.
Today he was looking forward to all of it and finally seeing and bragging on Raven’s peach cobbler. This morning she’d fretted and watched over the cobbler like a mother hen over her chicks. She wouldn’t even let him see it after she took it out of the oven. She’d shooed him from the kitchen but allowed Rooster to stay, her coconspirator, who had waited by the front door for a special-delivery package.
“Yeah, Cynthia,” Raven yelled, and waved her flag as Cynthia, Miss Elks Ridge, slowly passed in the backseat of the convertible Billy proudly drove.
“I’ve never seen Billy grin that wide,” Duncan commented. “But I can understand the reason.”
Raven winked at him, then stared as a man selling hot dogs made his way down the edge of the sidewalk. “I don’t see how people are going to be hungry with all the food vendors.”
Without thinking, Duncan curved his arm around her shoulder in reassurance. “Don’t worry; they’ll go though the food tonight like they haven’t eaten in days. The parade is winding down. Let’s go to the arena and get a good seat for the rodeo.”
“Are you going to compete?” she asked as they walked down the congested street.
“I haven’t for a couple of years,” he said, joining the crowd of people going in the same direction.
“What was your specialty?”
“Calf roping.” Stopping, he purchased their tickets at the booth. “Ramon is competing, though. He took top honors last year.”
“Hello, Duncan. This must be Raven.”
Accepting the tickets and change, Duncan moved out of the way and wanted to groan. Mrs. Ferguson was head of almost every women’s organization in the county. Naturally, Duncan had never had too much to say to her. Her husband was a good man, but he could be hard at times. His ranch was so big it straddled two states. His wife had clout and didn’t mind using it if displeased. “Good evening, Mrs. Ferguson. I’d like you to meet Raven La Blanc.”
“Hello, Mrs. Ferguson,” Raven greeted the woman, extending her hand.
The elderly woman, with snow-white hair in a bun she’d worn for as long as Duncan could remember, closed her hand around Raven’s. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
“Probably too much.” Raven laughed and glanced up at Duncan. “I’m going out on a limb here to ask if you’re the Mrs. Ferguson who bakes the legendary apple pies.”
Mrs. Ferguson blinked, then blushed with pleasure. “I don’t know about ‘legendary,’ but they are popular.”
“Extremely so,” Raven went on to say. “One of the desserts I considered baking for today was an apple pie. Cynthia Marshall shot the idea down before I could get the words out good. Her exact words were, ‘Nobody can bake a pie as good as Mrs. Ferguson.’ ”
“Well,” Mrs. Ferguson said, obviously pleased. “I didn’t know people thought that highly of my pies.”
Which was a lie, Duncan thought. All the women in the area knew apple pies were Mrs. Ferguson’s domain. Taking her on wasn’t a good idea. Duncan had to remember to thank Cynthia, who was turning back into the sweet young woman he remembered.
“That’s because you’re so modest, and I can tell from the way you greeted me you’re gracious as well,” Raven commented.
Mrs. Ferguson looked at Duncan. “You have a sensible young woman here, Duncan.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Duncan said, trying not to think of Raven leaving at summer’s end. “Would you like for me to get you a ticket so you can sit with us?”
“Thank you. I’m waiting for a few of my friends,” Mrs. Ferguson said, glancing at her small diamond watch. “People should be punctual.”
“Is your husband here?” Duncan asked, scanning the crowd for the big, rawboned man.
“No, James is tied up at the ranch until later,” she told them.
“Would you like for us to wait with you?” Raven suggested.
Mrs. Ferguson shook her head. “It’s kind of you to offer, but . . . There they are.” She waved two ladies over. They couldn’t get their excuses for being late out fast enough. Mrs. Ferguson merely lifted a displeased brow. Silence fell as if someone had flipped a switch.
“Ladies, I’d like you to meet Raven La Blanc. I’ve been having a nice chat with her and Duncan while we waited,” Mrs. Ferguson said pointedly. The women looked nervous, but they shook Raven’s hand.
“Pleased to meet you.” Raven glanced from Mrs. Ferguson to the women. “I don’t know how to do this any way but straight-out. I baked a peach cobbler. If you could bring yourselves to give me your opinion on it before I set it out, I’d appreciate it. Presentation is as important as taste.”
“Exactly,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “Several of us are going to the community center to set up for this afternoon’s celebratory feast. We could always use another pair of willing hands.”
“I’d be honored,” Raven said. “What time?”
“Around four,” Mrs. Ferguson answered. “I like to be punctual and start serving at six.” She glanced at Duncan. “Of course, it’s a bit of a tradition for the men to come through and point out the dishes prepared by their wives and lady friends.”
“I plan on coming by,” Duncan said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Raven smile shyly and momentarily tuck her head. “I’m going to take Black Jack home after the rodeo; then I’m coming back.”
“Excellent. Good-bye.”
With murmurs of “good-bye,” the women moved away.
His arm curving naturally around Raven’s shoulders, they started for the entrance. “You did good. Mrs. Ferguson, I hear, can be a bit difficult.”
“Cynthia mentioned that to me the day
she came to tell me about the desserts.” Raven led the way to the first wooden risers. “She’s being helpful because I kept her from making a terrible mistake.”
“What mistake?”
On tiptoe, Raven grinned and whispered in his ear, “Marrying you.”
“What!” Duncan shouted, drawing the attention of the people around him.
Raven chuckled. “That will keep you from getting a big head.”
Duncan followed her up the steps, admiring her graceful carriage, the slight sway of her hips. Getting a big head wasn’t his problem; getting a big something else that could embarrass both of them was.
“I better get Black Jack and leave while the awards ceremony is going on.” Duncan helped Raven to her feet and down the steps in the arena.
Rising, she glanced at her watch. Three forty-five. “And I have to get to the community center. I don’t want Mrs. Ferguson giving me that look.”
Duncan leaned over and whispered, “I’ll protect you.”
She grinned up at him for the sheer pleasure of it. “Today has been wonderful. Thank you for taking time off to be with me.”
“I enjoyed myself as well.” They exited the fairground gates. A few people were leaving, but most were waiting for the mayor to wind down so the top prizes could be given out. “It looks like Ramon will bring home top honors again.”
Raven stopped beneath a tree. “The two women in front of me couldn’t wait to congratulate him in private.”
Duncan’s arms loosely circled her waist. “And he would have forgotten them before the night is over. Some women are unforgettable,” he said, looking at Raven.
“Just as some men are.” She sighed. “I wish I could kiss you.”
“I wish it a thousand times more.” He leaned closer. “What do you say we leave early tonight?”
“One dance and we’re gone.” She glanced at her watch again and scooted out of his arms. “I’ve got ten minutes to reach the community center.”
He chuckled as she took off. “I told you I’d protect you.”
Raven turned in a circle, lifted her hand to wave. Instead she lowered her hand. The smile slipped from her face. Her gaze was locked behind him.
Duncan whirled, saw Crane staring at him. Crane’s face looked gaunt. Usually immaculate, he looked as if he had slept in his suit. Duncan started for him.
“Duncan,” Raven called. “Remember what I asked you. It still holds true.”
Duncan stopped, clenched his hands. Does what he says or what I think matter most? Pleasing her would always come first. Duncan faced Raven instead of the man he wanted to rip apart for trying to belittle her.
“I’m proud of you,” she mouthed; then she took off again.
You might not be if I see Crane when I turn around. But Crane wasn’t there. Pushing the man from his mind, Duncan continued to the empty stable. Everyone connected with the rodeo was at the arena.
He was a few steps inside the stable when he heard the angry whinny of a horse. Black Jack! Duncan took off running. He was almost to the stall when Crane rushed out, slamming and closing the door.
“What the hell are you doing to my horse?”
Crane turned, reaching into his pocket. Before Duncan could take another step, he was staring into the deadly barrel of a .38.
Chapter 15
Raven hadn’t gone twenty feet before she remembered the ice cream to go with the peach cobbler. Her head fell. She’d wanted it to be a surprise. She’d had Rooster pick up five gallons from the store. When they took Black Jack back to the ranch, she’d planned on picking it up and packing it in dry ice so it would keep.
Only now she wasn’t going back. She’d have to tell Duncan at least part of her plan. It couldn’t be helped. She reached for her cell phone to call Duncan and came away empty-handed.
It wasn’t on her belt loop. She must have forgotten it in her haste to bake the peach cobbler and try to keep her special surprise from Duncan. She glanced at her watch. Eight minutes. She could either go tell Duncan about the ice cream or be on time to help Mrs. Ferguson.
She started back toward the arena. Easy decision. Duncan would always come first.
Increasing her pace, she arrived at the stable. She had gone no more than five feet when her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stable. Her blood chilled on seeing Crane with a gun pointed at Duncan.
“Raven, run!”
“If you do, I’ll shoot him,” Crane threatened.
“Raven, do as I say!”
“Only if you want to go to a funeral.”
“The only funeral will be yours, Crane.”
“Tough talk, but I have the gun. Now get over here.” Crane backed up so he was against the stall door across from Black Jack’s.
Raven started walking.
“Raven, no. Please,” Duncan said. His eyes pleaded.
“I’m not leaving you. I can’t.” She kept walking, trying to figure out a way to help them both.
Crane laughed nastily. “So touching. Stop there.”
Raven stopped twenty feet from Duncan. “I’m sorry. He’s a bigger fool than I imagined.”
Crane’s head jerked toward her. “I should shoot you.”
“No, you won’t.” Raven casually folded her arms. “If you dare point the gun at me, Duncan will tear you apart. But I wouldn’t be too happy about it, either, and I might beat him to it.”
“You’re all mouth. I bet I could find a better use for it,” he sneered.
“Touch me and you’ll end up with more than a sore leg,” she promised.
“What are you talking about?” Duncan questioned.
“Nothing important,” Raven quickly said. She’d been careless in mentioning the incident.
Black Jack whinnied. Duncan whirled toward the stall. “What were you doing inside his stall?”
“Teaching you a lesson. One you didn’t learn the other times.” Crane swayed the slightest bit. “I’m the one who spooked your herd, who let your mare and that foal out. I thought if you lost some of your herd or had enough problems you might need money and change your mind about leasing. You always came out on top, but you won’t this time.”
Duncan reached for the stall door. A bullet whizzed by and lodged in the wood inches from his hand. Black Jack reared. “You’re a dead man, Crane.”
“No, but you’ll wish you were before I finish. Because of you two, I was fired. No other real estate company will even give me an interview.”
Raven unfolded her arms, holding up her hand for Duncan to be patient. Soon the ceremonies would be over and people would pile into the stable. “Crane, I thought you were a smart man. Looks like you’re screwed. Reminds me of a movie—a Western where the bad guy faces certain death either way.”
“Shut up,” Crane ordered.
“You should get out of here and hire a good lawyer before it’s too late,” she told him, inching closer. He was too big of a coward to suspect an attack from a woman a second time.
“No, you took everything. None of the ranchers will talk to me.” His unsteady hand wiped his mouth. “I’m going to leave you with nothing, just like you left me. A dead horse isn’t enough.” Crane swung the gun toward Raven.
Duncan pounced, tackling Crane, taking him down. The gun fired. The bullet lodged in the beam overhead. Wrestling the gun from Crane’s hand and tossing it aside, Duncan pounded his fist into Crane’s face, again and again.
“Duncan. Black Jack needs us.” Opening the stall door, Raven went inside. “Easy, boy.”
Duncan joined her, catching the horse’s mane, leading him to an empty stall. “Search his pockets. I can’t tell if Black Jack is acting up because of the noise and a stranger in his stall or if that scum gave him something.”
Raven knelt by an unconscious Crane. From his jacket pocket she pulled out an empty package of rat poisoning. There had been eight cubes. On unsteady legs she came to her feet and reached for Duncan’s phone.
“I’m calling the police, and they can
get a vet.”
Duncan stared at Crane. Blood trickled from his misshapen nose. “I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance.”
Raven dialed 911. The blame was hers. She’d kept Duncan from taking care of Crane. “I’m at the stable at the fairgrounds. There’s been an attempted murder.”
“We found all the cubes of rat poison in the straw in Black Jack’s stable,” the veterinarian said. “Black Jack is fine.”
Duncan happily patted the horse’s neck. It could have ended much differently. “Thanks, Doc.”
He slapped Duncan on the back. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”
“You’re quiet,” Duncan said to Raven as the man left, closing the stall door after him. The police had left fifteen minutes earlier with Crane. Now, it was just the two of them.
Her arms folded around her waist, Raven shook her head. “This is my fault. If I had let you take care of Crane, he might have been too afraid to cross you again.”
“And he could have gotten drunk enough to set the house on fire or any number of things.” Duncan gently took her arms. “I’ll blame Crane, blame the booze he’s been guzzling lately. You, never. You probably saved my life.”
She finally lifted her head. “I was so scared when he fired the gun.”
Duncan’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “If you hadn’t been here, I would have taken him on and probably ended up with a bullet hole.” His eyes briefly shut. “I never felt such rage or fear as when he pointed the gun at you.”
His thumb brushed across her trembling lips. “We’re alive and Black Jack is all right. I want some of that peach cobbler, a dance, and then we’re going home.”
“There was supposed to be ice cream. I was coming to tell you to bring it back with you,” she told him.
“We’ll eat it tonight in bed.”
The corners of her mouth lifted. “It’s five gallons.”
“Once Rooster sees it’s open, it won’t last long. He wanted a piece of Crane as well. All of my men did. If the sheriff hadn’t asked them to leave, they’d still be here.” He curved his arm around her waist and started from the stable. “Let’s get out of here.”