“Trustworthy?” the priest echoed. “Oh, you are thinking of the thieves that often occupy the plazas. Yes, you should seek out Gomez Hidalgo, the mayor. Though he is ambitious, he is an honorable man who will see that no harm comes to you.”
From what he’d seen of San Felipe, Tucker doubted that anybody would cross Porfiro and his bandits. Tucker had little money, and so far as he could tell, Raven had none. They’d have to sell at least one of their nuggets. If they could trade one of them for goods without arousing suspicions, they might be able to get away.
They bade Benito, Father Francis, and the villagers goodbye. Once out of sight, Tucker voiced his plan. “I think you should put on your traveling dress, Raven.”
“Why would I do that?”
“With your sprained ankle and your dress, the villagers will think you’re a traveler in distress.”
“And what will they think you are?”
“They’ll think I’m your husband, of course.”
Raven grinned. “I think I might like that.”
As they neared the village Tucker became increasingly cautious. If they were caught on the flat open road, they’d have no place to hide. Raven had wounds on her head and knee and a sprained ankle. She’d been through so much already, he didn’t want her to suffer any more pain. Reluctant though he might have been to act as her protector, he’d taken the role seriously. He didn’t want her hurt while she was in his charge. He cared too much for her, though that fact was difficult to admit.
He claimed a quick look at the woman riding next to him. If she had the proper clothing, her composure might make her look like a grand Spanish lady, but now, in her buckskin garment, she was every inch a spirit woman.
“Do you want me to change now, before we get into town?” she asked.
“I think so. The road looks like it widens up ahead. Maybe we’d better stop while there are still trees to shield you.” He took Yank from the road into a stand of cottonwood. Tying him to a tree limb, he helped Raven dismount. She opened her saddlebag and pulled out the badly wrinkled travel dress.
“I hope nobody sees me lift my skirt,” she said, eying the petticoat with only half a ruffle left. “With this petticoat and the wrinkles, they’ll never believe I’m any kind of lady.”
Tucker pretended not to see the knit stockings she was holding, nor the dainty blue leather slippers with the tiny spool heels. He’d thought she couldn’t be more appealing than in her Indian clothing, but the idea of her as a fine lady made his heart pound.
She limped behind some low-growing brush and pulled on her stockings, tying them at her thigh, then donned her petticoat. She didn’t know what had happened to her chemise, but it was missing from the bag. For all she knew, she might have left it back along the trail outside Santa Fe.
Finally she was dressed, all but the tiny buttons on the back of the garment. She’d slid it around her front to unbutton them when she’d removed the dress, but now she couldn’t manage alone.
“Tucker? I need some help with my buttons.”
Tucker groaned. He’d had the devil’s own time keeping himself from rounding the brush to begin with. “Damn it, Raven, don’t do this,” he said, heading toward her.
“Do what?” She lifted dark feathery eyebrows in question, totally unaware of the appealing picture she made in her blue traveling dress.
“Give me an excuse to put my hands on you.”
She blushed, as if remembering what had happened, and her hands dropped from the back of her dress and fluttered against her thighs. “I—you don’t have to touch me, just my buttons. I’m afraid I’m going to look pretty silly. The dress is wrinkled and I can wear only one shoe.”
“You’re beautiful. But there’s no way we’re going to get into the village and out again without calling attention to ourselves. Let’s just hope the mayor is a trusting soul.” He moved behind her and began awkwardly to close the buttons up her dress. Tiny black things, they fought with his attempts. Uttering an oath, he finally reached the top.
“I don’t know why any woman would want such a garment. Your buckskin dress is much more sensible.”
“Yes,” she admitted, tugging at the skirt and trying to cover her own confusion over the intimacy of the moment. “I prefer it also.”
She hobbled toward her horse, stepped on a loose pebble, and stumbled. Tucker lunged forward and caught her. Then, unable to help himself, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do it. He’d told himself that they’d been caught up in the moment before, in the out-of-control heat that sizzled between them constantly. He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. He was an honorable man, but he was incredibly weak.
She was incredibly willing, and before he knew it, he was plundering her mouth, pressing his body against hers, reacting to her willingness to mold her body to his.
Raven’s face flushed, her breath came fast and shallow, and she cried out at the invasion of his tongue in her mouth, and the force of her response fired every part of him.
It was Yank who interrupted them, butting his head squarely against Tucker’s back. Tucker didn’t know whether to shoot the big horse or thank him. Raven almost fell again, and as Tucker reached to steady her he heard the sound of horses, many horses.
“Raven, you must stop tempting me,” Tucker gasped. “You’re going to get yourself into deep trouble and maybe get us killed.”
“From being kissed?” she said in a breathless voice.
“No, from distracting me. Quick, let’s hide Onawa and Yank.” They moved the mare inside the thicket and watched as a band of Mexican riders passed by, heading in the direction from which they’d just come.
“That was close,” Tucker said.
“It was,” she agreed. “I am sorry that I distracted you. I watched my sisters and their … their future husbands kiss before. I’m sorry if I don’t do it right.”
“I’m not your future husband, Raven. And you do it very right. It’s just that we can’t be together like that.”
“Why? Do you not like me?”
Tucker groaned. Here he was in the middle of the biggest mess he’d faced in years, with the first woman he’d ever really cared about, and he had to give lessons in propriety.
“I like you—too much. But we have a mission. Remember? We have to find the treasure, rescue your people, buy land in Oregon.”
“And kissing will interfere with that? I don’t understand why.”
“Because you make me lose my edge. I’m thinking about you instead of our enemies. We must focus on first things first.”
“I’m so sorry, Tucker,” Raven admitted, guilt filling her eyes with moisture. “I’m being selfish. It’s just that I’ve never been kissed the way you kiss me before. But you’re right. We’ll find the treasure first, then you’ll teach me more about kissing. Was that Porfiro?”
It took Tucker a minute to direct his focus on Porfiro and the matters at hand. Kissing was infinitely more powerful and more appealing. But there would be none of that if they ended up dead.
“Yes,” he said. “At least he’s left the village. Maybe we can get in and out before he returns. Let’s ride.”
Quickly they mounted their horses and rode into San Felipe. It was very warm. Perspiration beaded Tucker’s forehead and darkened his collar.
The square was almost empty. Tucker felt a ripple of unease run down his back as he remembered how close he’d come to becoming a permanent resident of the area. If it hadn’t been for the birds—
“It looks peaceful,” Raven said. “Where will we find the mayor?”
“I’ll ask.” Tucker hoped that none of the shopkeepers recalled his near demise. Reaching one of the small trading posts, he slid from his horse and went inside.
In broken Spanish he asked, “Do you know where I can find Señor Gomez Hidalgo?”
“Si,” the shopkeeper answered, nodding his head. “The mayor is also our banker. He is a very successful man in our village.”
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“Perfect.” Tucker relayed the information to Raven. “We can exchange the gold for money and nobody will be the wiser.”
Moments later Raven hobbled into the bank, where Tucker introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Farrell. “We have come to do some business with you. We’d like to open an account with these gold nuggets. Would it be possible?”
“You wife is injured?”
“Just a sprained ankle. We were attacked by Indians and we’re lucky to be alive. Now, about the account.”
“Of course, señor. I will be happy to open an account for you. Will you be staying in our little settlement?”
“Only for a few days this time,” Tucker said.
“Oh?”
“We are looking for land to buy—later.”
The banker examined the nugget. “I see. And have you any special place in mind? I am also the land surveyor. I’d be glad to help you there as well.”
It didn’t take Tucker long to figure out that Hidalgo thought they’d discovered the gold nearby. He thought they were going to buy land all right, the land where the gold vein was located. Now they’d have the Mexican bandits, the Indians, and the townspeople after the treasure.
“No,” he quickly corrected, “the señorita’s father recently died, leaving their ranch to her brother. To my wife he only left a small inheritance of jewels and these nuggets. With her father gone, we have decided to find land of our own in New Mexico.”
So far Raven had held back, allowing Tucker to do the talking. Now she leaned forward, an earnest look on her face. “Do you think you can advise us about such matters?”
Señor Hidalgo quickly fell victim to her charms. “Certainly, Señora Farrell. There is much good land farther south along the Rio Grande. I will be happy to introduce you to some of the landowners. Many of them will be at my house this evening, for fiesta. Will you do me the honor of joining us?”
Raven had little choice but to agree. “I’m afraid that the run-in with the band of Indians cost us our wagon and my trunk,” she confessed. “I trust that you will advance funds so that I can buy some suitable clothing.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “And you will stay with my wife and me. I’ll arrange for credit at the store, and when you’re finished I’ll escort you to my hacienda, where you may refresh yourself.”
Tucker considered the invitation and came to the conclusion that staying with the banker would serve two purposes. Raven would have a place to rest, and they would be away from town, where he might be recognized. Perhaps it would be good to have the implied protection of those in power. If they were dressed as successful land buyers, they wouldn’t be recognized as the fugitives being hunted by outlaws and renegade Indians.
“Thank you, Señor Hildalgo. We accept your invitation with pleasure.”
An hour later, planting Raven on a barrel inside the store, Tucker purchased the supplies they needed, including proper clothing, a saddle, and more ammunition. He made arrangements to have everything but the clothing stored at the livery stable, then assisted the limping Raven outside the store, where Señor Hidalgo arrived shortly with a smart little two-seater black buggy.
Helping Raven into the carriage, the mayor indicated that Tucker could follow on the horse tied to the back of the conveyance.
Concealing his annoyance from the mayor, Tucker complied. To his chagrin, the creaking of the carriage wheels and the sound of hoofbeats effectively drowned out the conversation between Raven and Señor Hidalgo. An occasional light trill of laughter only fserved to further inflame his fury.
They headed east, toward the Blood of Christ Mountains. Being on the open prairie made Tucker uneasy. It was unlikely that Swift Hand’s braves would venture out here. And they’d seen Porfiro headed in the opposite direction. But there was something about the wide open spaces that made him uncomfortable. Everything was too quiet. Except for the conversation occurring inside the carriage.
His stomach was protesting the length of time since they’d shared the bread and cheese of Father Francis’s and Benito’s village. The sun was overhead now. High noon. How far was the hacienda? Could they trust Gomez? Suppose he was tied in with the bandits?
Raven Alexander was his responsibility, and he’d do what he had to in order to take care of her. By the time they reached the ranch, he was ready to throw Raven over his horse and ride away. He was willing to forget about the treasure, the Indians, and land in Oregon. All he wanted was—
Damn it! Tucker pulled off the new felt hat he’d bought and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed a bath and a shave. He needed to get his mind back on track. He couldn’t admit the truth.
But the truth was, all he really wanted was Raven Alexander.
11
The hacienda was small but elegant. Señora Hildalgo came hustling to the door to meet them. “Welcome, welcome, Señora Farrell. Come inside and rest your sore ankle. I have your quarters ready.”
Tucker gave her a startled look.
“Gomez sent word that you were coming,” she explained. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you.” Raven stiffened her spine, becoming every inch the wealthy land buyer she pretended to be. “We are pleased to accept your kind invitation.”
“Let me get you to your room, where you can bathe and have a nice long rest before the fiesta begins at dusk. Did my husband tell you that we are celebrating our daughter’s engagement?”
“No, I’m sorry, we would not have intruded on a family affair,” Raven said.
“Do not worry. Everybody in the territory will be here. Come, let me show you to the guest room.”
“The guest room?” Raven repeated with a shy smile.
Tucker gave the lady of the house a dazzling smile calculated to cover his consternation. “Perhaps my wife would be more comfortable if I found other quarters for this evening.”
Raven shot Tucker a stern look. “Don’t be silly, Tucker. A sprained ankle is no reason for you to sleep in the barn. I’ll be just fine.”
Señora Hildalgo looked uncomfortable. “If you’re certain. We are very short of space, due to the other guests.”
“I insist,” Raven said.
“In the meantime, Señor Farrell,” the banker said, “will you join me in the study for a glass of my special Spanish wine? We’d like you to feel our house is your house.”
“Don’t spoil your lunch, Gomez. I’ll have it brought in to you momentarily. Señora Farrell would probably like to have something light in her room.”
“That would be very nice,” Raven agreed, hoping it wasn’t too light and didn’t take too long in arriving. The food they’d shared with Father Francis this morning had been filling, but not enough and not for long. “But I’m afraid that I’m not yet confident in climbing the stairs. Tucker, would you …”
As Señora Hildalgo and the servants began mounting the stairs, Raven held up her arms prettily, settling against him in a way that was designed to tease. She was rather enjoying the game they were playing. Besides, she’d never been in such a luxurious home, and she intended, just for now, to allow herself to be pampered, both by her hostess and by her husband.
“Stop it, witch,” Tucker whispered as he carried her, ignoring the protests of his healing ribs. “You’re carrying our pretense a little too far. Behave yourself!”
“Of course, darling,” she said coyly, taking a lesson in flirting from her sister Isabella. “I just like being married.”
“You’re going to be sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’ll make you walk up on your own.”
She pressed her breast against his hand for one quick moment. “But I need you to protect me. I’m still weak with fear from our near fatal attack. Suppose the Indians come back?”
She’d become less mystical and more womanly. He liked that—too much. “The Indians won’t come here. What you’d better worry about is the bandits and whether or not the mayor is in cahoots with them.”
She went still and her face paled, making him sorr
y he’d said anything. She needed rest and food and a few days to get herself ready for the ordeal ahead. Now he’d made her worry.
“Oh, dear. I’m not very good at flirting, am I?”
He planted a light kiss on her lips. “No, you’re not,” he lied. “And I like it that way. Just go on pretending to be afraid and let me do the talking.”
Señora Hildalgo stopped at a bedroom door at the end of the corridor. “Rosalita will bring hot water for your tub. It will help your foot to soak it. A nice nap with pillows beneath your leg should make you feel much better.”
Tucker let her down just inside the door and looked around with approval. The simple white room was stark but comfortable. There was an outside door leading to a balcony overlooking the courtyard below.
“Through here is a small room normally used by one of the ladies’ maids. For now, Mr. Farrell can use it to clean up and dress for the evening. That way you won’t be disturbed. Later one of our guests will sleep there.”
“I’m afraid we are becoming an inconvenience for you,” Raven observed. “Perhaps we ought to go back to town. Surely there is an inn or a hotel?”
“Oh, no,” Señora Hildalgo said in horror. “The only rooms to be had are those over the cantina, and I don’t think you’d be comfortable there. You’ll stay here. It will be fine, I promise.”
“The room is lovely, Señora Hildalgo. We thank you for your hospitality. I’m sure Raven will feel better after a good rest.”
“Raven? That’s an unusual name.”
“Yes, it was my mother’s.” Raven debated whether or not to announce her Indian heritage, then decided that for now she’d keep that to herself. “I wish you’d call me that.”
“Of course. I’ll have the hot water and your clothing sent up.”
She walked to the door and waited, making no effort to leave the room. Finally Tucker realized that she was waiting for him.
Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 13
