by Carol Finch
Since she seemed to have control of the horse—for now, at least—he motioned for her to join him. “Follow me. There’s a place I want you to see.”
Five minutes later, he drew the pinto to a halt on top of the hill. “Keep talking to the red devil while we negotiate this narrow path. If he bumps the rock wall beside him he might spook so be prepared.”
Eva blinked in amazement when they descended to level ground and she noticed the bubbling spring. “This is another paradise,” she breathed appreciatively.
“It was before the whites trespassed all over the place,” he grumbled as he dismounted to tether the skewbald pony. “This is the place the Cheyenne call Phantom Springs.”
“I never want to leave this place,” she declared as she slid to the ground.
Eva led her horse to the inviting spring to survey the small waterfall that gurgled from the stone wall. Trees surrounded three sides of the spring and she swore the sketches she had seen of Greek and Roman bathhouses were less spectacular than the sunlight dancing on the rippling pool below the trickling falls.
When her horse dropped its head to drink, she went down on one knee beside him to sip the cool water. Raven and the pinto drank from the opposite side. She glanced up warily when she heard what sounded like a whispering voice echoing around the rock walls above her. No doubt, Phantom Springs was appropriately named. Either that or the pesky sniper was cursing them for still being alive.
“Another sacred site,” she presumed.
“Bathhouse for the Cheyenne gods,” Raven replied. “Drinking and bathing here is said to restore the body and spirit. Hoodoo swears by it. He couldn’t walk at all until he soaked here daily for weeks on end. But then Hoodoo is superstitious by nature and by habit. Hence his voodoo doll and its curse.”
Raven came to his feet. “I have one more place to show you before we unspook the horses.”
He held the reins while Eva mounted the powerful bay. Then he swung into the saddle to lead the way across another panoramic mountain meadow. A quarter of an hour later, Eva heard the sound of rushing water. As they came around the bend of the trail, the hillside opened into a plunging, one-hundred-eighty-foot-deep canyon where seven distinct waterfalls tumbled from one outcropping of rock to another then splattered into the stone-rimmed pool below.
“Incredible,” she murmured, awestruck. “You live in the most spectacular region this side of heaven.”
“All of my people were free to roam our homeland in days gone by.” Raven’s solemn gaze swept over the scenic canyon and frothy falls. “Only a few of us can visit our ancestral haunts these days. The others are confined to reservations like criminals housed in penitentiaries.”
Eva knew Raven’s freedom had come at great expense and she predicted it must be bittersweet for him to visit the sites. He had become the guardian of these sacred haunts because his white heritage allowed him to purchase land. Ironically, his father’s people had taken the land from his mother’s tribe. The conflicting emotion left Raven caught in a vise because of the circumstances of his birth.
On the way down the steep trail, Eva savored the majestic beauty of the canyon and the magnificent falls. She would love to revisit this site in the future, to spend more time…
Her thoughts scattered when a rumbling sound overhead jerked her from her musings. The earth shook and pebbles pelted her head. Her horse pranced backward and flung its head nervously.
“Get off of him,” Raven ordered. “Rockslide!”
Eva slid from her mount and plastered herself against the jagged rock wall. Her horse was wild-eyed and jittery, and he tried to bolt away. Despite the potential disaster, Eva whispered reassuringly to the horse, hoping he wouldn’t stumble over the narrow ledge and end up like Lydia’s horse.
She grabbed a quick breath and held it while dust and boulders tumbled downhill. She glanced anxiously at Raven, who was also plastered against the stone wall, a death grip on the pinto pony’s reins.
A long moment later, the fog of dust drifted over the canyon. Eva coughed and blinked to clear her vision, then took a quick inspection to ensure she and Raven were still in one piece. A film of dirt covered his coal-black hair, beard and mustache. He was swearing colorfully, switching back and forth between English and Cheyenne, as he stared up at the stone wall.
The sound of a discharging rifle erupted in the silence that followed the earth-shaking rockslide. Then the call of an owl drifted across the canyon.
Raven scanned the area while Eva wiped her eyes and squinted into the sunlight to see a brawny man, dressed in buckskins and wearing a wide-brimmed sombrero, waving at them from the opposite side of the canyon.
“That was no accident,” the man bellowed as he gestured to the hillside above them. “You must have a bitter enemy who strikes quickly then retreats like a shadow.”
Raven craned his neck to look above him again. “Did you get a good look at the man who set off the landslide?”
“Not much of one,” the new arrival called back.
“Who is that?” Eva asked as she dusted herself off.
“My cousin, Blackowl.”
“The cousin who took refuge with you in the Ute camp after the massacre,” she recalled. “I’m anxious to meet him.”
“He’s less fond of whites than I am.” Raven gestured to the blood-red bay gelding whose shiny black mane and tail had taken on a dull brown hue. “Mount up before that devil horse decides to take off on his own.”
“Apparently my would-be assassin is still alive and kicking,” Eva remarked as she followed Raven uphill.
“I think my sniper disposed of yours,” he speculated. “He isn’t giving up, which suggests that he was paid a lot of money to dispose of me. Either that or he’s nursing a vicious grudge of his own because of a past confrontation.”
James Archer swore ripely as he rode away from the canyon. “Another near miss,” he grumbled then glanced back at the unexpected arrival who had taken a shot at him.
Muttering at his rotten luck, James headed for the protection of the trees on the rugged mountain trail. When he spotted an unsuspecting rider ahead of him, he smiled fiendishly. His attempt to rid the world of that pesky half-breed gunslinger would have to wait until later. For now, he had encountered another pigeon ripe for plucking.
Raven drew the pinto to a halt when Blackowl appeared on the outcropping of rock. His cousin’s thick brows flattened over his dark eyes as he critically appraised Eva.
“What is this, Raven?”
“It’s a woman,” he replied wryly. “Surely you’ve seen one before.”
Blackowl looked Eva up and down. “Not in breeches, I haven’t. Why is this paleface tagging along with you?”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Blackowl.” Eva rode over to extend her hand cordially to the tall, powerfully built Cheyenne warrior, who looked to be only an inch shorter, a few pounds lighter and a few years younger than Raven.
Blackowl stared at her hand as if her fingers dripped poison and he refused to touch them.
“I’m training for a trek into the nearby mining camps,” she explained as she withdrew her hand.
Blackowl snorted in disapproval. “Even a woman in breeches will face danger if she goes into Devil’s Triangle.”
“That’s what I said,” Raven chimed in. “Head-Like-A-Rock refuses to heed my warnings.”
“That’s her name?” he asked, staring owlishly at Eva.
“No, but it could be,” Raven insisted, grinning. “Maybe that will be my pet name for her.”
“I’m his wife,” she declared for shock value.
Blackowl’s onyx eyes nearly popped out of his head. His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no words came out.
“She’s kidding,” Raven said quickly.
“I should hope so,” Blackowl grumbled when he found his voice. “You must marry one of our kind. It is your destiny, Raven.”
Raven didn’t know what his destiny was. Didn’t care at the moment. He simply wanted to hunt d
own the annoying assassin who kept trying to catch them off guard and finish them off.
“Can you describe the man who set off the rockslide?”
Blackowl nodded sharply. “Broad-brimmed hat like mine. Flannel shirt, suspenders and high boots. He wasn’t too thin or too heavyset. Average height.”
Raven rolled his eyes. “Hell, that describes ninety percent of the male population of prospectors in Colorado.”
“If you wanted to kill someone, wouldn’t you prefer to blend in?” Blackowl questioned reasonably. “Even the man’s horse was nondescript brown with no identifying markings. I took a shot at him but he was already scampering away and he was beyond rifle range.”
Raven blew out a frustrated breath. “This is the third attempt on my life.”
“On my life,” Eva corrected. “He’s after me, not Raven.”
Blackowl’s gaze bounced back and forth between them then he said, “Why is she here?”
“Because I’m crazy about J.D. and I swore I’d follow him to the ends of the earth,” she said smartly. “Are you always as blunt as J.D.?”
Raven watched Blackowl smile reluctantly. Her feisty temperament was getting to his cousin and it was beginning to show. Eva was simply irresistible.
“You have a sassy mouth, Paleface,” Blackowl said to her then glanced at Raven. “Did you not know this when you let her tag along?”
“Yes, but I can’t get rid of her.”
Blackowl inclined his dark head toward the trail. “The sniper nearly got rid of both of you in one fell swoop.”
Raven didn’t need to be reminded of how close Eva had come to being struck by a falling boulder and knocked over the edge of the cliff. Remaining in his presence, when he was most likely the target of an assassin, was the equivalent of signing her own death certificate. He needed an extra pair of eyes until he overtook the assassin. Blackowl was his first choice.
“What are you doing for the next few days?” he asked.
“I was going to take the furs I hunted and trapped to the rendezvous site at Pine Crest to exchange for white men’s money.” He hitched his thumb toward the stack of hides tied behind his saddle. “Business has been brisk.”
“Eva will pay you well to accompany her to the mining camps,” Raven informed him.
“Travel with a paleface and then brush shoulders with the gold diggers?” Blackowl scoffed caustically. “I do not look that stupid, do I?”
“I’ll buy your furs and save you the trouble of riding to the rendezvous site,” she offered.
Blackowl glanced questioningly at Raven, who shrugged. It occurred to him that Eva seemed to have plenty of money. Perhaps she was relying on the funds Gordon had stolen in Denver. Hell, she might even be his partner. If Gordon had double-crossed her, it made sense that she wanted to recover her share of the loot—the whole kit and caboodle would be even better for her.
Stop it, Raven scolded himself. Eva deserved the benefit of the doubt. Just because he’d become cynical and mistrusting, didn’t mean he had to pick apart every comment she made. Then again…
He sighed in annoyance. Unwanted feelings for Eva interfered with logical thought and made it difficult to remain objective.
“You have a deal, Paleface,” Blackowl declared. He extended his hand, palm up. “Pay now.”
“I don’t have the money with me,” she explained.
Raven felt the shadow of doubt creeping up again. Until Eva said, “It’s in my satchel in the cabin.”
Maybe she was telling him the truth after all.
“Maybe I will help my cousin instead,” Blackowl remarked. “You should stay here while Raven and I search the mining camps to locate the fugitive.”
Her chin came up. Her back went ramrod stiff as she squared her shoulders. “This is not negotiable, Blackowl. I’m going after Gordon Carter myself and that is that.”
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.