The Crow and the Bear (The Crow Series Book 2)

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “These valleys are familiar to me. Having second thoughts, Boggs?”

  “About you? No.”

  Jennie watched him a smidge longer than she should’ve, her heartbeat accelerating. She’d been courted by several men since her arrival in Silverton at the age of sixteen, but she’d been hard-pressed to be swayed by their affections and amorous overtures. Her papa had even kept her under lock and key at times, deterring the more aggressive ones. She wasn’t ignorant of men and what they wanted—Silverton boasted numerous saloons and she was acquainted with several of the local ladies, whether her papa approved or not.

  But Boggs’s quiet countenance and controlled masculinity made her consider what women throughout time had confronted—throwing all caution to the wind for the sake of passion.

  She pursed her lips together and turned away from him, chastising herself for entertaining such silly, girlish thoughts. She shifted her focus to Papa. If he was in trouble, he wouldn’t have much time. Not if an early winter storm struck. It was late October. It could happen. He shouldn’t have gone out this late in the season.

  She hoped she could find him.

  And she hoped that when she did, it wouldn’t be in Silas Ravine.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cal knew about the cabin before they saw it, not because of his talent of sight—which only came to him during dreams anyway; it was Jack who could divine while awake—but because tendrils of smoke could be seen far in advance, a sure sign of a fire in use. Jennie had skirted the mining settlement of Eureka, instead heading straight into a valley and the obscurity of the mountains.

  Cal rode ahead and cut her off. “Stay behind me.”

  “Why?”

  “Settlement ahead.”

  “I know. It’s probably Augustus.”

  “Stay behind me,” he repeated. He pulled the Henry from the scabbard and rested it across his thighs as he let the animal pick its way along the pathway.

  A wooden building came into view, well-kept with a narrow porch and one window. Smoke spiraled upward from the stone fireplace.

  Cal halted his horse. “Hello the house,” he yelled.

  The door cracked open. “Who’re you?”

  “Augustus, it’s Jennie Livingstone.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t try to sidle past Cal. He’d have cut her off anyhow, no matter that she knew the occupant.

  The door opened farther and a man with a dark, unkempt beard peeked out. He held a shotgun, which Cal noticed he didn’t immediately set aside.

  “Who’s that you’re with, Jennie?” asked Augustus.

  “This is Callum Boggs. He’s helping me search for my father. Have you seen him?”

  “Nah. Not since summer.”

  “Are you certain? He planned to come this way. He probably would’ve been through here ten days ago.”

  “Sorry, Jennie. I ain’t seen him.”

  Cal sensed Jennie’s frustration behind him.

  “Are you well, Augustus?” she asked. “Do you need anything?”

  Cal didn’t like the fact that the man still hadn’t put the gun down.

  “I’m fine, Miss Jennie. You best be moving along with that fella of yours.” He gripped the weapon in his hands and looked straight at Cal. “You best stay away from the ravine. Jennie’ll tell you why.”

  “Let’s go, Boggs,” she said quietly from behind. Her horse began picking its way along a parallel path to the cabin.

  Cal scanned the cabin’s location, always keeping Augustus in his line of vision. He kept himself between Jennie and the curmudgeon’s shotgun.

  Once they were out of sight, they were forced into single file, the mule trailing Jennie’s horse. When the passage finally opened up, Cal pushed his mount to a gallop and reined in beside her. The trail was still narrow and his leg brushed against hers, causing her gaze to flick to his. He enjoyed the flush on her cheeks.

  “Do you think Augustus lied about Ben?” he asked.

  “Maybe. If Papa was really headed for the ravine, I imagine he would’ve sneaked past the cabin.”

  Cal nodded, thinking the same.

  They rode through the tundra until nightfall, although sunlight had been scarce for several hours. But Jennie wouldn’t stop until forced to do so.

  She was efficient in setting up camp, and soon enough, two canvas tents were erected side-by-side in a flat clearing. Cal made a fire while Jennie tended the horses and Maisie, picketing them in an area with grass still in abundance. Within this valley they were buffered from the wind and the chilled weather hadn’t quite reached the vegetation yet.

  Cal was weary, so heated beans in a pot hung from an iron tripod over the fire. Water would round out the meal. He wondered if Jennie would complain.

  She trudged up to the fire, removed her hat and sat on the bare ground, folding her legs beneath her.

  He spooned the food onto a tin plate and handed it to her. “It’s not fancy, but it’s hot.”

  “Smells wonderful.” She lost no time in consuming the meal. She downed a cup of water then drank another. “When I’m with Ben it’s usually salt pork and hard biscuits.” She cleared her throat. “May I ask how you came to know that Ben is in Silas Ravine?”

  Cal rarely confided his abilities to anyone. There was never any reason, but he decided to take a chance on Jennie. “I’m able to see events in my dreams before they happen.”

  “Truly?” She gave him her undivided attention, and it pleased him that she didn’t laugh his statement off outright.

  “My Scottish ancestry, I suppose. Before my granny died, she guided me.”

  “Did you dream about my father?”

  He nodded.

  “How could that be?” she asked. “Do you know him?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would you randomly dream about him?”

  The warm, sweet smell of burning juniper reminded him of nights with his brothers, filled with the freedom of living in the wilderness. “I’ve been hunting for Harley Jessup in my dreams. He’s in Silas Ravine, along with Ben Livingstone.”

  “But Jessup is dead. Does that mean my papa is dead too?”

  “What I see isn’t always entirely clear, but even you can admit that Jessup might not have frozen to death as was reported. As for your father, I honestly don’t know.”

  Jennie paused, firelight caressing her smooth skin, then asked in a soft voice, “Did you dream about me?”

  He poked a stick into the fire to avoid looking her in the eye, a sudden discomfort overtaking him. “Yes.”

  “Am I what you expected?” Her voice drifted across the space between them, heating his belly like a fine whiskey.

  Unbidden, his mind wandered to the treasures hidden beneath the heavy layers of clothing she wore. “No.”

  “I’m not sure how I should take that.”

  Realizing his error, he added, “You’re a lot prettier in person.”

  A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “I hope you’re not a charlatan, Boggs.”

  “I don’t lie, Jennie. And you can call me Cal.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jennie awoke before dawn and tended to personal matters in the woods while she had a modicum of privacy. During the night, she’d slept lightly and wondered how, through the thin walls of the canvas tent, Boggs didn’t snore. Even now, as she moved about, she heard nothing from his tent.

  Could he really know things from his dreams? The idea intrigued her.

  She also felt a tug deep in her stomach every time he looked at her.

  She set about stoking the fire. Once she had a flame going, she used the grinder to pummel the coffee beans, added them to the pot along with water and hung it from the tripod.

  She jumped when the little sprite appeared. “I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me, Simon.” Her hand splayed across her chest as she sought to quiet her nerves.

  The short, squat man sat down next to her and tugged at his russet-colored cap. He wore a red thick wool coat and miner’s
boots. His stubby fingers scratched his face and he smirked. “Why are you traveling with that man?”

  “You mean Cal?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the man in question.

  “He’s called the Crow, and he brings a different energy here.”

  “Is that bad?” Worry flooded Jennie. Had she been wrong to let Boggs accompany her?

  Simon lost a bit of his bluster, his shoulders sagging. “No. He’s not a bad man.”

  Jennie couldn’t stop the smile from reaching her mouth.

  Simon grimaced at her. “Quit acting like a woman in love.”

  “I am not,” she defended, a bit shocked by his pronouncement. While Callum Boggs was no doubt handsome—exuding an inherent strength that stirred excitement within her as if she hung from a precipice—she wasn’t in need of a beau. She’d begun to think of late that marriage might not be in the cards for her since she enjoyed the freedom to come and go as she pleased. It also meant that she could care for her papa. If she had a husband, she would have to leave her father.

  “Why don’t you like him?” she asked her friend.

  “The Crow walks the ancient pathways. He’s a seer. He’ll disrupt the flow.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “I really don’t know, Jennie.” A look of apprehension crossed Simon’s face. “Many of the others have scattered now that he’s here.”

  “And why didn’t you tell me my father is in Silas Ravine?”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Why would he go there?”

  “For the lode, of course. You have skills, just like the Crow. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Who’re you talking to?”

  She jerked around at Cal’s question, who stood to her left. He wasn’t in his tent, which explained why she’d heard nothing. She looked back to where Simon had been sitting beside her, but the spot was empty.

  “Just mumbling to myself.”

  The miners labeled them Tommyknockers, but Jennie preferred to call them the mountain people. Many a legend had grown around them. She supposed they might be named elf or leprechaun in other places, but she knew them as a race of creatures who co-existed with the mountains and valleys and streams. They were finely tuned to the frequency of the rocks and stones, and were always attracted to the miners who dared to corrupt their home. Many times they helped, but often their mischief caused accidents and tragedy. Jennie had sought to establish a rapport with them when it was clear that they liked her, but had kept this interaction to herself.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “Scouting.”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “Maybe.” He rested his rifle on his shoulder. “I think you should follow me.”

  Jennie stood, careful to keep the edges of her duster from getting too close to the fire, and climbed behind Cal upwards through a forest of pine trees. She braced her hands on the trunks to keep from slipping. Puffs of breath were visible from her exertions; she shifted her hat so she could look upward to see Cal’s broad backside. He waited on a ledge until she reached him, taking her hand to haul her up.

  His fingers slowly slipped from hers, the intimacy warm and comforting. Her surprise at the gesture was diverted, however, as her eyes locked on the scene before her.

  The large carcass of a bear was spread wide and tall, its arms and legs nailed to trees. Its gut had been slashed, the entrails spilling out.

  Tears welled in Jennie’s eyes. “Why? Who would do such a thing?”

  “Have you ever seen something like this before?” Cal asked, his voice quiet and gentle.

  “No.” Jennie looked away, swallowing the grief in her throat at so heinous a death.

  “It doesn’t look recent.” Cal rested his left hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “But it does appear ritualistic. Any Indian trouble in these parts?”

  “Not that I know of. The Utes are fairly peaceful.” Jennie glanced back at the animal. “Is that a male or female?”

  “I’d say female.” Cal removed his hand from her and she immediately missed it.

  “Did Augustus do this?” she whispered, swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

  “He doesn’t seem terribly...intelligent. But he’s definitely paranoid, and that can make up for much.”

  “What could this mean?”

  His dark gaze watched her—deep pools that seemed to have no end. Simon was right. Cal Boggs trod different pathways than most. “This is meant as a warning and a marker, of sorts. Someone has taken great care to isolate the bear’s spirit here.”

  “Why?”

  “Likely to contain what lies ahead.”

  Alarm snaked through Jennie and she glanced around. “Are we in trouble?” Her gaze came back to his.

  “No. I can protect you.”

  “Because you’re a Crow?”

  Cal frowned. “How do you know that?”

  The explanation lodged in her throat.

  “Who told you, Jennie?” he prodded.

  “You won’t believe me.” She glanced down and wrung her hands.

  “Why don’t you let me decide about that.” His stone-faced expression was at odds with the kindness in his voice.

  Should I trust him?

  Did she have a choice?

  “I can hear the whisper of the peaks and the valleys and the trees. I can understand the streams as they flow through the land.” She raised her eyes, defiance giving her strength. “I can speak with the mountain spirits.”

  As he contemplated her, she waited for him to lecture her about not living in a world of make-believe and fairy tale. But instead, the barest hint of a smile reached his eyes and he simply gave a slight nod.

  In a rush of air, she asked, “You believe me?”

  “I do.”

  A horrific squeal from below filled the air.

  “Maisie!” Jennie threw herself from the ledge, tripping as she went and rolling. She quickly stood again and angled herself down the hill as she sought to reach her mule. She side-stepped swiftly along the muddy ground covered in brown pine needles, grabbing at trees to arrest her momentum.

  As she came to the spot where the horses and Maisie had been picketed, heaving from her exertions, Cal’s strong grip squeezed her upper arm and he pushed past her, his rifle at the ready.

  The animals appeared unharmed but whinnied and flicked their heads in agitation. Jennie wished she had her gun. Something, or someone, was no doubt in the vicinity. She edged closer to Cal.

  They moved near the animals and Cal made soothing sounds. Jennie placed a hand on Maisie’s flank to calm her. A faint bawling came from the bushes. Cal moved toward it, rifle aimed. When he pushed the brush aside with the barrel of his gun, Jennie gasped.

  A frightened baby bear watched them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was mid-afternoon and Cal had only managed to move Jennie, the horses, and Maisie about a mile forward. The bear cub had drastically slowed them down.

  He trailed behind Jennie, the cub tucked snuggly against her belly, wrapped in a blanket to calm her. It was a female.

  Jennie refused to leave her, having managed to feed the half-starved animal boiled oats. She also got the cub to suckle water from a leather glove with a hole punctured in one of the finger slots.

  Cal hadn’t thought this was a good idea. He’d tried in vain to convince Jennie to abandon the critter that would likely die anyway. They were simply prolonging the outcome.

  “No.” Jennie’s answer had been firm and unwavering. While Cal respected Jennie’s stubbornness, the timing left him frustrated.

  “Then take it back to Silverton and I’ll continue on alone,” he’d responded. “You can describe the location of the ravine to me.”

  “You can’t do this without me.” Jennie’s pronouncement had slid through his bones, her words implying far more than the search for her father.

  He didn’t want her to leave.

  So he packed up this makeshift family that ha
d come to rely upon him, and they continued their trek. He’d scouted the area in his dreams during the night and knew a cabin sat about two miles ahead. And there had been goats. He hadn’t appreciated that fact at the time, but now he knew that it might mean milk for the cub.

  It was nearly dark when they reached the dwelling. A woman with gray-streaked hair and a stern expression on her bird-like face emerged from the cabin. Immediately the scene appeared odd to Cal, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He wondered if time flowed differently here.

  Well-worn timbers hugged the cabin and the roof appeared in need of repair. Gaping holes on the porch hinted at rotting floor boards. The dwelling was sorely in need of upkeep, a pressing concern with winter near.

  “Betsy, it’s Jennie.” Jennie awkwardly swung her leg and dismounted her horse, the cub still bundled against her. He would’ve helped, but didn’t want to leave his vantage point as he scouted the cluster of pine trees behind the small homestead.

  “Jennie my dear, what a nice surprise.” Betsy stepped forward but stopped short when she noticed the bulge in her arms. “Do you have a babe?”

  “Of a sort.” Jennie carefully pulled back the covering and revealed her treasure.

  “Is it a possum?”

  Jennie laughed. “No, she’s a bear. Her mother was killed. We couldn’t leave her.” Jennie glanced back at him. “I couldn’t leave her.”

  Betsy’s gaze landed on Cal. “He your husband?”

  “No. That’s Cal Boggs. He’s helping me look for my father.”

  “Ben is missing?” Concern crossed Betsy’s face.

  Jennie nodded.

  “Well, come inside, then.” Betsy waved them in.

  “I’ll tend to the animals, ma’am,” Cal said.

  She nodded curtly but didn’t address him directly.

  “Would you have any goat milk for the cub?” he asked.

  “I’ve got some. I’ll get it for you, Jennie.”

  Cal wondered at the woman’s disdain for him. He’d seen it before. With the dark features of his Comanche heritage, he looked more Indian than white. And some folks just plain didn’t like it.