Читать книгу The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress - Carol Finch - Страница 11

Eva silently fumed at the ornery rascal known as Raven. It was bad enough that this man, who was six foot three inches of brawn and muscle, appealed to her in ways that baffled logical thinking. The hard, defined muscles of his chest, shoulders and belly drew her admiring gaze and held it fast.

His Indian heritage was evident in his bronzed, angular face. With the growth of the dark beard, mustache and shaggy hair—not to mention his black shirt, buckskin breeches and moccasins that made him appear as wild and untamed as the rugged Rocky Mountains—he looked formidable.

Yet none of that seemed to bother her because he was such a magnificent study of masculinity. His powerful physique suggested he had tested himself to the very limits of endurance time and again and that unwillingly impressed her.

He possessed none of the sophisticated gestures or polished manners of the affluent. Come to think of it, that was a point in his favor. He was not particularly handsome, though who could tell with that wooly facial hair that concealed the sides of his face and his jaw. Striking was a better word to describe him, she decided.

His large, almond-shaped eyes were the intense combination of green and gold. They were translucent, intelligent, alert and alive. Similar to the cougar she and her father had happened upon during one of their mountain excursions a dozen years earlier. The beast had watched them from an overhanging ledge, its gaze missing nothing in its surroundings. The great cat had intrigued Eva then, just as this man intrigued her now.

“Well? What’s it gonna be?” he said, jostling her from her pensive thoughts. “In my bed or out the door?”

“Neither,” she replied. “My sister fell for the wiles of a conniving swindler who professed his undying love and devotion. They were supposedly on their way to elope when he took a share of her inheritance and left her afoot. I want the bastard tracked down. I want the money returned to my sister and I want retribution for her humiliation and heartbreak.”

Raven stood there, his hands on his lean hips, shaking his coal-black head. “No, I just returned from three hard weeks of tracking thieves. They shot my horse out from under me and I need time to train a dependable mount. Get someone else to help you.”

“Then name someone reliable and trustworthy,” she demanded. “And he better be as good as you’re reported to be.”

“There’s…” He paused, frowned then flicked his wrist dismissively. “No, he’s too trigger-happy. But you might try…” He shook his head again. “Never mind him. He’s a drunk.”

Eva elevated her brow and stared pointedly at the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. “Seems to me that the pot is calling the kettle black.”

“I’m lamenting the loss of a good horse and celebrating the end of three weeks of exhausting hell,” he defended righteously. “That’s different from a man who has whiskey for breakfast, lunch, supper and a bedtime snack.”

Eva crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. “Who then, if not you?”

Raven raked his hand through his long hair then shrugged impossibly broad shoulders. “Try the Rocky Mountain Detective Agency.”

“That is not an option,” she said in no uncertain terms.

He studied her curiously. “Why not?”

She refused to meet his green-gold eyes and stared over his wide shoulders. “I have my reasons. I want you and apparently you can’t think of anyone good enough, either, so it’s settled. We will leave in the morning and I’ll pay you half your fee then. You’ll receive the second half when the fugitive is brought to justice.”

“We?” He barked a laugh. “That wouldn’t happen. If by some remote chance it did, it would cost you double because I’d have to babysit a tenderfoot sissy like you. No thanks. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

Frustrated, Eva stamped her foot. “You are exasperating and infuriating!” she muttered.

He flashed a mischievous grin. “Part of my charm.”

“Charm?” She scoffed as she raked him up and down, trying exceptionally hard not to become sidetracked by his rippling muscles and bronzed flesh. Not to mention those fascinating eyes and the seductive gap at the waistband of his breeches. Try as she may, she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to the dark furring of hair that disappeared into his buckskin breeches.

He unstrapped the dagger tied to his thigh and tossed it on the nightstand. She watched him cautiously, wondering if he was going to drop his breeches in front of her, wondering how she was going to react to seeing her first naked man.

Despite her bravado, the only person she had seen naked was herself and she didn’t think it was going to be at all the same.

“I’m not taking your case,” he declared as he heeled off his moccasins. “I’m going to bed because I’m about as worn out as a man can get. So take a hike.” He bent at the waist to untie his leather leggings. “I’m through talking to you.”

Eva noticed the scars on his muscled back. Two long, deep strips of discolored skin resembled claw marks. The other scars must have come from a whip, she speculated. It left her to wonder at the torture he’d endured as he passed back and forth between Cheyenne and white culture.

Her thoughts scattered like buckshot when he did the unthinkable and shoved his breeches down his lean hips. Her face went up in flames and she whirled away before he disrobed completely and she received an education she hadn’t anticipated.

She heard the low rumble of his chuckle as she faced the wall. The bedsprings squeaked, assuring her that he had sprawled out. She hoped he had covered the lower half of his torso with the sheet and bedspread. But no matter what, she wasn’t going to allow this contrary rascal to get the best of her. She had made a pact with herself three years ago that no man would ever put her at a disadvantage again.

Drawing herself up to full stature, she gathered her courage and spun around. She was greatly relieved that he had covered his torso with the sheet. Even as he reached for the whiskey bottle, she noticed the look of surprise on his rugged face. Clearly, he thought she’d bolt and run.

“You can try to dismiss me, but you haven’t seen the last of me, J. D. Raven,” she assured him.

He settled back against his pillow and cushioned his head on his linked hands. Muscles rippled over his arms and down his washboard belly. “Thanks for the warning, sugar.” He took a swig of whiskey. “This is your last chance to climb in bed with me.”

“Thank you but no. I also sleep naked and I’d likely be cold because you probably pull covers,” she countered sassily before she turned to leave.

“We won’t need covers for what I have in mind,” he drawled suggestively. “And I have every intention of warming you up, sweetheart.”

Eva flashed him a go-to-hell glare as she swooped down to retrieve her discarded hat. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob—and wished it was his throat. He tossed her another scampish grin and waggled his eyebrows.

J. D. Raven might have won this skirmish but she wasn’t one to give up easily. This bounty hunter and legendary gunfighter was exactly the kind of man she wanted to track down Gordon Carter. She wasn’t taking no for an answer and that was that. All she had to do was sit herself down and figure out how to convince Raven to take this assignment, for which she would pay him a premium.

Eva pulled her hat down to shield her face then descended the steps. She detoured over to pay the hotel clerk for Raven’s rented room before she exited. Raven didn’t know it yet but he was on her payroll—starting now.

“Where have you been?” Lydia questioned the moment Eva strode past the bedroom suite.

“I’m in the process of making arrangements to hire a highly trained bounty hunter to track down Gordon,” she reported as she came to stand beside Lydia’s canopy bed.

Lydia blinked her dark eyes. “My goodness. Already?”

“Well, we are still negotiating terms,” Eva hedged. “But I will be monitoring his activities to ensure I get my money’s worth. I’ll be gone a few days.”

“You’re leaving me here by myself?” Lydia wailed. “You know I can’t go out in public ever again after the embarrassment I’ve suffered.”

“First off, no one but the two of us knows what happened and we’ll keep it confidential. But the next few days will determine what you’re made of,” she told her sister. “You will appear in public and answer questions about where Gordon got off to by saying you decided to go your separate ways.”

Lydia shuddered and clutched the sheet to her chest. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m too ashamed.”

“If you say that you are no longer interested in sharing his company that won’t be a lie,” Eva pointed out.

For Eva, she hadn’t had the luxury of voicing a pat comment because Felix had used her to introduce him to another wealthy heiress. He had turned his attention to a younger and less independent-minded woman. Then he had paraded her around in public and married her five months later, leaving Eva feeling like a cast-off bride candidate.

“I told Roger and Sadie that I was going to be out of town and I asked them to stop by here to check on you. You can always count on our friends.”

“Thank you,” Lydia murmured. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a burden to you the past six years since Papa died.”

“You are not a burden,” Eva contradicted. “You are my sister and sisters stick together. Also, they stick up for each other.” Eva patted her arm affectionately. “Now get some rest so you can walk out to face the world and convince the high society of Denver that you couldn’t care less about Gordon.”

Eva turned toward her room. For all her words of encouragement, she had yet to figure out how to convince Raven to take this assignment. He didn’t back down easily, but then neither did she.

A warm flood of pleasure washed over her as she discarded her clothes and lay down on her bed. Raven’s teasing words rolled over her and she wondered what it would be like to join such an incredibly masculine man in bed, to feel his muscled contours gliding alongside her—

“Stop it this instant!” Eva scolded herself. Damn his scampish hide for planting the erotic thoughts in her head.

She owed him for that and she’d make him pay.

Eva stretched leisurely then stared at the twinkling stars framed by her spacious bay window. If someone in her social class discovered her alone in the hotel room with Raven, there would have been a scandal of gigantic proportions. For years, the Hallowell name had been widely known throughout the area and gossip would be flying.

Thanks to her father, who had made his fortune prospecting for gold and had invested wisely, the Hallowells were always newsworthy. Her father had built businesses to outfit other prospectors. Also, he had established hotels and restaurants to house and feed his fellow prospectors. In addition, he had organized two local banks to grubstake miners who needed a helping hand.

Although her family name was familiar, Eva was rarely recognized on the street. She went to great effort to maintain a low profile. She spent most of her time at the expansive estate, overseeing various family businesses and contributing to worthwhile causes. Raven, on the other hand, was easily identified. His unique manner of dress signified that he had a foot firmly planted in two contrasting civilizations.

If their names were linked together, especially while he was half-dressed in her presence at his hotel room, she might have been forced to marry him, just to salvage her family’s good name and her reputation….

She jerked up her head when creative inspiration struck. A mischievous smile worked its way across her lips and she snickered. “I told you, J. D. Raven, you haven’t seen the last of me,” she said to the vision floating above her. “And indeed you haven’t. Just wait until tomorrow.”

“The kid did what?” Raven crowed in astonishment the next morning when the hotel clerk informed him that his bill had been paid in full.

The balding manager stepped back apace, his gaze darting apprehensively left and right. “Yes, sir, Mr. Raven. The boy said to thank you kindly for your time and any inconvenience. He also said to have a good day.”

Raven ground his teeth as he lurched around to see that his raised voice had sent three men darting to the door. He could clear a room in two shakes. Not that he cared most of the time because it was a powerful tool of intimidation, which was vital in his line of work.

If he looked and sounded like hell’s avenging angel then that was half the battle against defiant outlaws. As for men who turned tail and ran from him, they were usually guilty of something and that made them easy to flush out.

When involved in a showdown, Raven had learned not to display the slightest fear or hesitation. And when he barked an order, he had to make it stick. Otherwise, his intimidating reputation was useless. Raven knew how to make orders and ultimatums stick and he had the souvenirs of battle scars to prove it.

Just ask the man frying in hell after he put the whip marks on Raven’s back for no other reason except that he was half-native.

Cold fury trickled down his spine at the thought, but he quickly shifted his attention to the cowering clerk. The man assumed he’d somehow offended him by permitting that female masquerading as a young boy to pay for the room.

Raven fished a silver dollar from his pocket then tossed it to the clerk. “Thanks for the good night’s sleep. It was a long time in coming after sprawling on the ground while chasing down thieves for three weeks.”

The balding clerk relaxed and smiled slightly. “My pleasure, Mr. Raven. I’ll pass along your kind words to the hotel owner.”

“Yeah, be sure to tell the Hallowells I enjoyed my stay,” he said and silently smirked as he envisioned the highfalutin family members who reportedly owned half of the damn town.

“It’s always good to have you stay here,” the clerk added. “Come back again.”

Raven nodded before he walked outside. He was no fool. He knew exactly why the clerk at London House was eager to have him stay here. He had quelled three disturbances with drunken patrons during the past four months. Now there were no disruptions when word spread that he was renting a room here.

A cynical smile quirked his lips when two prissy females reversed direction the instant they spotted him standing on the boardwalk. The fashionably dressed pair scurried off. Apparently, they had heard circulating legends. He had overheard the rumor that he was half-human and half-Cheyenne ghost spirit. Damn, where did whites come up with that superstitious nonsense?

His smile faded as he carried his saddle with him to the restaurant to have breakfast. He noticed the manager opened his mouth to object, recognized him then turned away to speak confidentially with the waitress, who scurried over to take his order immediately.

Raven ignored the stilted silence that descended on the café. He wondered if the mysterious woman, who had barged into his room the previous night, would be as well-received in her unaccepted attire as he was. He stuck out like a sore thumb—and on purpose. She would, too, if she removed her oversize hat and allowed those silky auburn curls to tumble around her alluring face.

A knot of unwanted attraction tightened in his belly when the image of the fascinating woman who dared to visit his room sprang to mind. Hell, half the reason he had refused her request was that he felt an admiration and sexual interest that could have spelled trouble.

J. D. Raven had one hard-and-fast rule. He never, ever became emotionally involved in a case. It was strictly business because anything less might make him hesitate, make him think with his heart, not his head. Like carelessness, distraction could get him killed before his time.

After eating the hastily delivered breakfast Raven exited the restaurant, much to the relief of the proprietor and customers, he noticed. He halted on the boardwalk to survey Denver’s hustling, bustling citizens, who cast him cautious glances then hurried on their way.

Above the clatter of wagons and carriages in the street, a train whistle pierced the morning air. Glancing absently toward the depot, Raven strode off to deposit his bounty money in the bank. Fifteen minutes later, he entered the dry goods store to replace the shirts damaged during his recent foray. In addition to ground-in dirt and mud stains—the result of wrestling Buster Flanders on the edge of a cliff—smears of blood and ripped fabric made the garment better suited as a rag.

Raven plucked up two black shirts then set them on the counter. As an afterthought, he picked up a plaid shirt and brown breeches for Hoodoo Lemoyne, the older man who kept the home fires burning in Raven’s mountain cabin. The clerk hastily tallied the expenses so he could get Raven out of his store as quickly as possible.

Ah, how he longed to be working around the mining camps tucked in the mountain valleys. At least there, where the lines of civilization weren’t so strictly defined, he wasn’t treated as such an outcast. Then again, he reminded himself, he wasn’t accepted readily much of anywhere and he’d become accustomed to his solitary existence.

Tucking his purchases in his saddlebag, Raven scooped up his saddle, rifle and gear then spent a long moment lamenting his fallen horse. That buckskin called Buck had listened patiently while Raven rambled. He knew what Raven expected of him during a frantic chase and he trotted loyally to him when he whistled. Losing Buck was like losing a trusted friend.

Raven strode deliberately down the boardwalk, sending citizens veering off like the Red Sea parting for Moses. Once inside the stagecoach depot, Raven purchased his ticket to travel south. He sprawled negligently in a chair—away from the three men and the woman who would soon be wedged in the coach with him during the journey.

Hat pulled low on his forehead, Raven crossed his arms over his chest. Stretching out his long legs then crossing them at the ankles, Raven settled in to get some more shut-eye before the stage departed.

The whiskey he’d consumed the previous night left him with a dull headache. Missing several nights of sleep to remain on constant alert was catching up with him.

From beneath the shadowed brim of his hat, he could see the men and woman fidgeting nervously at the prospect of sharing confining space in the coach. If he cared in the least—which of course, he didn’t—their distaste of what he represented would dent his pride. But, like a cougar in the wilds, he had come to terms with his isolated lifestyle and didn’t brood about it.

Tracking criminals for bounty was what he was good at. He supposed he could sign on as a deputy marshal or city marshal in some nameless little town. As long as he clipped his hair, dressed strictly in white’s man’s clothing and made a conscious effort to look civilized. Yet, the very idea…

His rambling thoughts scattered like a covey of quail when the door creaked open and a woman entered. Raven had learned to school his facial expressions and give none of his thoughts away years ago. But he was stunned to the bone when he recognized the woman whose curly auburn hair danced like flames in the sunlight. She was the very same female who had dared to approach his room and make demands the previous night. She was even more fetching in daylight, especially when she discarded shapeless masculine clothing in favor of feminine apparel.

This morning she had dressed in a modest but flattering calico gown that accentuated every voluptuous feminine curve and swell. And she had plenty of them in all the right places, he noted. She carried a matching parasol and wore a hat that boasted a couple of feathers and ribbons. War bonnet, most likely in her case, he mused as a wry grin crossed his lips. Indian custom had nothing on white civilization, he decided. Undoubtedly, the woman had girded herself up for another confrontation to urge him to take her assignment. Waste of time though it was.

Without acknowledging her arrival, he surveyed Miss Calico. She stood about five foot six inches and weighed about one hundred and ten pounds—give or take. She passed a polite smile around the depot then focused her full attention on him. Still he didn’t move or alert her that he recognized her from the previous confrontation.

If she planned to open another lively debate with an attentive audience on hand then he would refuse her not only in private, but also in public. No matter what, Raven wasn’t taking the assignment. He needed time to rest, relax and to train Buck’s replacement. Period. End of story. No exceptions.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when the gutsy female walked straight up to him—but damn if he wasn’t. Then she shocked him speechless when she said, “Did you purchase my ticket, J.D.?”

Calling him J.D. suggested they were on intimate terms. He sat there, too stunned to react, while the three men and woman glanced back and forth between him and the daring female. Even the agent at the ticket window perked up at the unexpected scene unfolding in the depot.

She sighed dramatically, shook her curly auburn head then smiled at him in tolerant amusement. Miss Calico, with her matching parasol, set her two carpetbags on the empty chair beside him.

To his further astonishment, she doubled at the waist, pushed his hat back to stare him squarely in the eye and said, “Honestly, love, I know we were married recently but you’ll have to remember you have a wife to consider now.”

You could have heard a pin drop on the planked floor of the depot. Everyone’s jaws sagged with incredulous disbelief. If Raven hadn’t trained himself not to show the slightest reaction, his mouth would have dropped open and his teeth would have clattered to the floor.

Married? What the hell was she talking about? Sure, he’d been drinking last night but he certainly would have remembered something like that!

Seemingly unaware or unconcerned with the rapt attention she’d attracted, Miss Calico kissed his bearded cheek then sashayed over to purchase her ticket. She returned to take her place beside him. By that time, Raven had managed to sit up a little straighter in his chair and shake off the alluring scent of her perfume that had clogged his senses.

When Miss Calico brushed her shoulder affectionately against his and smiled at him as if he were the sun in her universe, something very strange and unfamiliar unfolded in the region of his chest. It was probably indigestion, he decided. He’d wolfed down his breakfast in a rush so he’d have time to swing by the bank and dry goods store before catching the southbound stagecoach.

When she glided her hand over his, giving it a seemingly affectionate squeeze, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t sure he could have formulated a sentence at the moment if his life depended on it.

“I’m very much looking forward to the rest of our honeymoon, J.D.,” she said in a stage whisper.

Beneath lowered lashes, Raven observed the expressions plastered on the faces of the other passengers. Something in the way they stared at him had altered drastically since his supposed bride arrived to make over him as if he were special to her. He seemed to have acquired instant respectability because everyone thought he was married to the stunning female—whose name he still didn’t know, damn it.

“The stage has arrived,” the ticket agent announced.

Miss Calico was the first one on her feet. She grabbed her satchels then tugged him from his chair. “Don’t forget your saddle, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry about the loss of your favorite horse. I know how much he meant to you.”

The comment confirmed to the other passengers that she knew specific details about him. She sealed their connection by adding, “I’m anxious to watch you train the replacement. In time, I’m sure the new saddle horse will be as invaluable as the last one.”

Then, to his absolute amazement, and that of the onlookers, she pushed up on tiptoe to press another kiss to his bearded jaw. Again, the tantalizing fragrance of her perfume infiltrated his senses and fogged his brain. He couldn’t recall, but he presumed she had led him outside like a stupid lamb to slaughter. Then she directed the other passengers where to sit so the newlyweds could cozy up side by side in the coach.

It was only while Raven was tossing his saddle and the satchels into the luggage compartment on the back of the coach that his head cleared long enough for him to realize that he hadn’t shut down the woman’s charade and sent her packing. Worse, several passersby heard her call out to him. When she referred to him as sweetheart, she stopped traffic on the boardwalks and attracted owlish stares.

While she stood there, all smiles and cheery disposition, he stepped up beside her and bent his head to ask confidentially, “Who in the hell are you?”

“Evangeline Raven, of course. Really, J.D., you’ve been calling me Eva for weeks. Last night you swore I was the love of your life.”

“Ha, curse of my life is more like it,” he said and grunted. “Last night you interrupted a perfectly good drunk. And here you are this morning to ruin a perfectly good hangover. Be warned that you’re going to regret this little charade of yours, I guaran-damn-tee it, Eva.”

He wheeled around to tuck his Winchester rifle beside his saddle and she followed after him. Flashing an impudent grin, she said, “I told you that you hadn’t seen the last of me. You were warned, darling.”

“I thought you were a man-hater.”

“Can you think of a better way to get even with a man than to pretend to marry one of the worst offenders?” she countered in a syrupy tone.

“What the hell—?” came a startled voice from overhead.

Raven looked over the top of Eva’s auburn head when the stage driver’s gravelly voice boomed above him. From his elevated perch, the grizzled driver, whose bushy hair, long beard and mustache concealed most of his wrinkled features, stared at him in bewilderment.

“You’re married?” the driver croaked like a bullfrog. “To her? You must have more charm than I thought.”

Raven inclined his head to take a better look at the driver. He recognized George Knott, the man he had interviewed after a stagecoach holdup the previous year.

“He has oodles of charm,” Eva defended as she laid her hand on Raven’s forearm. “I’m honored to be his wife.”

Raven noticed the speculative glances coming his way again. This new respectability in white society beat anything he’d ever seen. One attractive female in calico, who testified to his charm and claimed to be his new bride, and wham! Suddenly he wasn’t the dangerous bastard everyone thought he was. He was considered almost human.

Eva tapped his hand, then lifted her full skirts so he could assist her into the coach. He took his cue. However, he gave her a bit more of a boost than she needed. She yelped when she nearly sprawled facedown on the other passengers’ feet. He noted that she reacted quickly and that she was agile enough to catch her balance. She eased a hip onto the seat and settled in for the ride. Raven expected her to glare daggers at him for the spiteful stunt but she grinned sportingly.

“How clumsy of me.” She tucked her skirts beneath her legs then scooted sideways to pat the empty space beside her.

Raven wedged into the space between Eva and the window. In the close quarters, it was impossible to rail at her without being overheard by the other four passengers. Presently, he was too irritated to keep his voice to a whisper so he held his tongue. He did what he always did during the rare occasion when he was forced to travel by stagecoach. He pulled his hat low on his head, crossed his arms and caught a catnap.

Unfortunately, visions of his impish bride kept intruding into his dreams and jolting him awake. And sure enough, she was still cuddled up beside him, smiling triumphantly at him.

He sighed inwardly, aware that he had lost control of the situation the instant she appeared in the stage depot to shock him speechless. He decided to give her high marks for ingenuity and let her enjoy her crazed charade for the first leg of the journey. But that was as far as this pretend marriage went.

Biding his time, he closed his eyes to nurse his headache and vowed to get even with Eva Whoever-she-was for trying to outsmart him.