“No,” she gasped, “it was wonderful—so very wonderful. Thank you, Tucker. Together, we were one being.” Her body trembled with the last wave of fiery sensation.
She was lying in his arms, separated, yet still locked to him spiritually, reluctant to let go of a moment that could never come again.
“What in hell happened, Raven?”
“We became one. Does it not always happen that way?”
“Never. Never has that happened to me before.” Tucker was having trouble dealing with what they’d shared. It was too powerful, too all-consuming. He was discovering that making love to her hadn’t satisfied his longing. He wanted her now as much as he had the first time he’d kissed her.
More.
But the ground was cool and the mist from the waterfall fell across their body like silver fog. Raven began to shiver.
“We’d better get back to the cabin before you catch a chill,” he said, coming to his feet.
She rose behind him, walking to stand beside the pool. At that moment a shard of moonlight hit the the bottom of the pool and reflected its beacon upward.
“Oh, look, Tucker.”
He followed the beam and saw the light being threaded through a sliver of rock high on the mountain. Like an arrow it seemed to point to a spot near the summit. Then, as if a curtain fell, the light was cut off and the night went dark.
“A sign,” Raven whispered. “A sign directing us where to go. It’s the same spot as before.”
“You think that has something to do with the treasure?”
“Do you have a better explanation?”
“No,” Tucker said, rattled by more than just the signal. Everything that had happened was almost mystical in its power.
Everything except the beautiful woman standing nude in the moonlight, the woman with whom he’d joined in a celebration of desire.
To his surprise she slipped into the pool, splashing herself with the icy water. Then, rising like a sea siren, she climbed out, picked up her dress, and walked back toward the cabin, all shyness and restraint gone.
Quickly Tucker gathered his clothing and followed her, stunned by her beauty, by the honesty of her response, by the openness of her actions.
Once inside the cabin, she quickly built up the fire, warmed her body, then slipped into the blankets and held out her arms.
“Hold me, Tucker. I would keep the magic with us until tomorrow.”
He fell down beside her. “You sound sad.”
“I am. This night can never come again, and I will always hold it close.”
He pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t say that, my love.”
“Would that I were your love.” She closed her eyes.
But for Tucker sleep did not come. He lay reliving the night, trying to understand what had happened, trying to fashion a plan for the rest of their journey. In the end all he could do was hold Raven.
“Would that I were,” she’d said. He’d heard her as clearly as if she’d spoken aloud. Yet she had never opened her mouth. He had to be so caught up in the magic that he was imagining something that could never be. Still, if what they’d shared wasn’t love, then it was as close to it as he’d ever come.
Love. The very thought scared him to death. To love meant he had something to lose.
And Tucker Farrell always lost.
Porfiro checked his men as they mounted up.
“Make sure you have everything you need,” he advised. “We won’t return until we find them.”
“But what about the Indians?” Juan asked.
“We’ll take care of them as well. We are bandoleros. A puny band of ragged Indians won’t stop us.”
Porfiro’s eyes swept the city plaza. San Felipe was his town. The banker’s daughter would soon be his ticket to a complete hold on the area. She thought she would marry the son of a wealthy landowner. She was wrong. Porfiro would be her husband when he had the treasure.
Gomez Hildalgo believed he was being smart, keeping the secret of the gold and the ruby jewel from the town, but Porfiro had his way of learning. Long before the banker had told him, Porfiro had known. Nothing went on in San Felipe without his knowledge, including the escape of the Indian woman and her man.
He should have known when it happened. He would have had it not been for the engagement party. Losing the woman he wanted to another man had interfered with his attention for a time. But no more. Soon the wealth of the Spanish treasure would belong to him. He would take a wife and assure the importance of his station in the town. He was a Romero, and the Romeros were descended from the Spanish who had come here generations ago.
Now Porfiro was ready to go after the woman and Señor Farrell. They’d lead him to the old miner who’d share the location of the treasure with him. For too many years Porfiro had waited. After all, it was his Spanish ancestors who’d originally acquired the treasure, acquired and lost it. Now power and success were at hand. Soon the Romeros would be respected again.
“Are we ready, Juan?”
“Si, Porfiro. Where do we go?”
“We go into the mountains, by the river, where we rode when the Indians attacked. We will follow the woman who hears the voice from the past.”
“And what will we do when we find her?” Juan asked with a wicked grin.
“We’ll find out what we want to know. Then we’ll kill her.”
Hot coffee, fried pork, and the leftover biscuits from the night before made their breakfast, and while Raven was packing up, Tucker checked the back trail.
An hour after dawn, they were moving up the mountain toward the spot where the beam of light had pointed. But distance was an illusion and by noon they were little closer than when they’d started.
“Don’t you think we ought to stay close to the water?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know,” Raven admitted. “The beam seemed to be a sign, but I’ll admit that I’m as confused about that as I am about—”
“Me?” Tucker finished for her.
“No, I mean it suddenly seems so awkward.” From the time she’d opened her eyes and found herself alone in the bedroll, she’d felt strangely uncertain. Making love in the moonlight had seemed so natural, but the harsh reality of morning cast everything in an uncomfortable light. They were no longer what they had been, but neither knew yet what they were.
Her shiver had nothing to do with the chill in the air. She felt Tucker’s wariness and it made her nervous.
The rugged side of the mountain was steep and magnificent. Loose boulders dotted its stony surface amidst openings that might be caves or mines. Behind them, Raven could see the light reflecting off the broken mirror in the pool. For a distance she could see the stream as it threaded its way down the cliff.
But above the pool, the point where the water burst from the rock, there was no sign of the creek. Where did it go?
“Let’s study our maps,” Tucker suggested, sliding from his saddle.
Raven pulled the carrying bag from her saddlebags while Tucker removed the tin pan from his. Shading his eyes from the glare, he studied the markings.
Raven leaned against him, holding the bag up to compare it with the pan. “Do you see anything you can identify?”
“Nothing except the stream, or perhaps it’s the pool. Do you see, right here, the wavy lines?”
She leaned closer, bringing herself into contact with his body. She could see the lines and what might have been a mark indicating a narrow valley. “That could be Luce’s valley and cabin,” she observed.
Tucker’s concentration was immediately broken when he felt her press against him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “But the only other thing we can be sure of is that we have to climb the mountain. And I can’t see any way to do that just yet.”
“Neither can I,” she agreed, “but the spirits will guide us, never fear.”
But he did fear. The only spirit guiding him was the spirit of the flesh. And now that he’d tasted the forbidden fruit, all he could think about wa
s Raven’s body, Raven beneath him, Raven’s heat.
For the first few days, Raven had been a mystery, a challenge that came to him. She was alone, on an impossible mission with insurmountable odds. Somehow she’d gotten to him, made him feel responsible for her safety.
Almost overnight that protective need had changed to pure temptation. He wanted her and that want had grown with every hour, cresting to hot desire in that moment by the pool when they’d experienced what she called a waking dream. He’d been hopelessly drawn into her mystical world. Even as he’d tried to hold back, he’d been pulled in.
What did it all mean? Had Raven created some mystical spell from which he could not escape? Tucker felt as if he’d lost control, and he’d sworn never to let that happen again.
Then came last night and he knew he was lost.
“Let’s move on,” he said roughly.
Raven put her hand on his arm. “I thought we were going to be friends.”
“Friends and lovers don’t necessarily go together.” Tucker climbed back into the saddle.
“Why not?” she said, following his motions.
“You can talk to friends. Friends explain and ask before they steal a man’s soul.”
She felt her heart lurch. She wanted to talk to Tucker. She wanted to hear the sound of his voice. It made her feel breathless inside. But she’d been so caught up in the magic they’d made that she hadn’t realized how upsetting it was for him. “And lovers?” she asked.
“Lovers, you make love to.”
The breathless feeling tightened, cutting off her air supply to her lungs. “Tucker, I am your friend, but I can no more explain what we felt than you can. I don’t want to take anything you don’t wish to give.”
“It seems to be out of both our hands.”
“I’m sorry you’re confused. But I’m also your lover now and I’m not sorry about that. I’m yours to make love to whenever you wish. Do you wish to love me now?” She started to dismount.
“No! I mean, hell yes! I want to make love to you now and tomorrow and next year, and if your spirits don’t take you away, I will. But now is not the time. I need to think about all this, to keep my wits about me. Half the people in New Mexico could be behind us. We don’t have time for that—now.”
“Whatever you say, Tucker.”
By noon they were moving through an area so barren that Tucker doubted any man had been there before. There was no trail, no path, only rough, rock-strewn terrain that fought them every step of the way. And they seemed no nearer to the place where the light had pointed than when they’d begun.
Tucker pulled off his hat and mopped his face with his bandanna. A little farther and they’d reach the top of another ridge. What lay beyond was probably more of the same. At the rate they were moving, it would take them days to reach the peak they were heading for in the distance.
“I’d like to keep going,” he said. “The area is so rough I’d hate to get trapped in a place like this with nowhere to make camp. Do you feel up to it?”
“I’ll make it, Tucker. You lead the way.”
She was doing it again. Putting him in charge, placing her faith in him. And he was accepting that faith, binding himself even tighter to her with the foolish idea of finding a treasure that had been hidden for two hundred years.
“Damn!”
Yank tossed his head, showing his complete agreement. Behind them Onawa neighed softly, quieting the big black horse, who found his footing and moved off.
“She’s got you just as hog-tied as I am,” Tucker observed to his horse. “Never thought I’d see that time for either one of us.”
About midafternoon they finally crested the ridge, and Tucker was dumbfounded by what lay before him. A long, narrow valley hid an oval bowl-shaped jungle of verdant meadows. Down the middle ran the elusive stream, twinkling and bubbling through green grass. Hundreds of yellow-and-black wildflowers dotted the landscape.
“What is it?” Raven came to a stop beside him. “Oh, it’s beautiful. But how, how could this be?”
“You’re the one who speaks with Mother Earth; you’d be more likely to get an answer from her than from me,” Tucker said. “But I suspect that there are hundreds of places like this tucked into these mountains.”
“Look at the flowers, they’re everywhere. On the grass, in the trees. Their petals are caught by the wind like leaves in the fall.”
“Well, let’s go down. We need to fill our canteens, and this looks like a good place to camp for the night.” Tucker urged Yank down the ravine, between two massive fir trees, toward the bottom of the valley.
As they grew closer they discovered that what they’d thought were festooning wildflowers were instead gold-and-black butterflies that swarmed up in a great flaming eruption of color.
“Oh, Tucker. Butterflies.”
Soon the huge brilliant wings were everywhere, on their arms, on the horses’ backs and heads. Like the petals of a million flowers being dropped by the gods, the graceful butterflies’ sun-shot wings skimmed and dipped in the air.
Tucker felt as if he’d stepped into a fairy tale. This was some kind of wonderland, all green and lush and filled with magic. The last vestige of doubt vanished from Tucker’s mind. Raven and her spirit world were truly magical. If he hadn’t believed it before, he believed it now.
Raven climbed down from Onawa and stood still. Soon she was covered with the giant butterflies. They alit in her hair, on her face as if to kiss her cheeks; they decorated her buckskin dress.
Then, as if responding to a silent signal, they took flight, soaring across the sky in a wave, moving to the north like a golden blizzard. Clouds of the lacy creatures joined the flock and began to leave the valley.
“Oh,” Raven cried out, “did we frighten them? Did our intrusion make them leave this beautiful place?”
Tucker watched their tremulous legions dip and sway across the sky, all moving in tandem toward the horizon. “No, I don’t think so. See, some are staying behind. I believe it was just their time to go.”
“I’m so glad they stayed long enough for us to see them.” Raven turned around and around in the middle of a lush, flower-crested field. “I think we must have stumbled into Papa’s fairyland. If we listen, we’ll hear the Little People.”
“Or maybe it was magic of another kind,” Tucker said as he dismounted and came to stand beside her.
“Magic?”
“Remember the butterfly on your mother’s carrying bag?”
Raven caught her breath. “Yes. It was gold and black, like the ones here. What does it mean?”
“I never thought I’d say such a thing, Spirit Woman, but maybe these butterflies are a sign that we’re on the right track.”
“Oh, Tucker, I was so afraid before, but now I understand that I was wrong. We do belong here. This is where we were being led all along. The spirits brought us here.”
And there, surrounded by stately fir trees, sparkling water, meadows of wildflowers, and butterflies, Tucker kissed Raven as naturally and beautifully as the surroundings that created the moment.
Freed, the horses drank from the stream, then grazed nearby. Caught up in the magic, Tucker drew Raven down to the meadow and loved her. This time there were no chanting voices, no drumbeats, no waking dreams. This time they were just a man and a woman belonging to each other.
“I’m definitely beginning to believe in your spirit world, Mrs. Farrell,” he whispered.
“I certainly hope so, Mr. Farrell. I wouldn’t want to be traveling with an unfeeling man.” Raven smiled, remembering their lovemaking by the pool. She could never accuse Tucker Farrell of being an unfeeling man. She just wondered if he understood how much she knew.
“Would that I were your love.” Tucker repeated the words she’d whispered from her heart.
He knew.
It was late afternoon when the remaining butterflies came to rest in the trees and the flowers closed their petals to the encroaching darkness. Overhead the
light of the moon crept over the trees in the east as the remaining rays of the sun leapt behind the next ridge.
“We’d better make camp,” Tucker said.
“Why? I like it right where we are.”
“The ridges will protect us from the wind, but it will still grow cool before morning.” He came to his knees.
“Then you’ll just have to warm me again.”
“Not unless we get some food into this body. It needs fuel to perform, and we used it up hours ago.”
“In that case, you make a fire and I’ll cook. I’m afraid you’ll have to eat bacon and bread again.”
“I’ve had less.”
Once Tucker had the fire going, he looked across the valley. “I think I’ll ride back up to the ridge to check behind us.”
Raven refused to believe that anyone might be following them. Everything was too beautiful, too perfect. As Tucker built the fire, she stirred up flour for bread and cut chunks of salt pork to be fried. Tomorrow she’d catch some fish, maybe find some wild onions and watercress.
After all, she mused, Tucker Farrell was a big man. He needed a lot of fuel. At least, if she had her way, he was going to.
But it wasn’t the Indians or the Mexicans who intruded. It was nearing sunup when a mounted burro came charging down the ridge. Tucker sprang to his feet and pulled on his trousers. Raven quickly slid her dress over her shoulders.
As the burro came closer and saw Yank and Onawa, it broke into squeals of delight and rushed into the clearing.
“Tucker, it’s Jonah the burro. What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice answered. “I didn’t know he’d raise the dead with his caterwauling.”
Tucker recognized the rider and swore. “A better question, Mr. Small, would be how’d you find us?”
The newspaper reporter’s long skinny legs curved around Jonah’s middle like a vise, holding on for dear life. “Be still, you old fool!” he called out, pulling on Jonah’s reins, bringing the burro to a sudden stop. The jolt dislodged Small and freed Jonah to join the two horses. “I didn’t find you, this burro did.”
Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 19
