Carol Finch - The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress

The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, prompting him to retreat into the pockets of shadows in the trees. He knew there was a narrow trail leading to the ridge to the west because he’d followed it as a child and had used it three years ago while searching for the drunken murderer wanted in Leadville.

Raven stared up the rocky slopes and noticed a flash of color among the trees. Someone was lying in wait. Thankfully, he hadn’t become an easy target for another ambush attempt.

A horse nickered in the distance, confirming his suspicion. Raven jogged off when he heard the driver announce it was time to board the coach. He circled to step into the opposite side of the coach, convinced that he was being stalked and that he had been marked for death.

No one in the coach uttered a word when Eva piled onto the seat. She sat catty-corner to him and never once glanced in his direction. It was clear to everyone that she wasn’t speaking to him.

“Lover’s spat?” Frank Albers questioned as he rolled a silver dollar deftly over his fingers.

Apparently, Eva overheard because she looked over at Raven and held his gaze while he replied, “Just a difference of opinion. Now that I think about it, I was probably wrong.”

Frank snickered when he noticed the smile on Eva’s lips. “A wise man once told me that if husbands knew how to say they were sorry and they were wrong, marriages would run smoother.” He winked at Raven. “You’re halfway there.”

For the life of him, he didn’t know why he’d bypassed the chance to fuel the anger that had sent Eva stamping off earlier. The only explanation was that he was turning into mush—all because of a beautiful but feisty female who couldn’t possibly be more than a footnote in the chronicles of his hardscrabble life. Why should he care if Eva Whoever-she-was was annoyed with him? He shouldn’t…

Then she smiled and those luminous brown eyes twinkled with inner spirit. He turned into a mindless sap and smiled back at her.

Raven was reasonably sure that goofy smile was still plastered on his face when a loud clap of thunder shook loose his stalled thoughts. He glanced through the window to see a thunderstorm skirting the mountains. The bank of gray clouds that had scraped the summits left a curtain of rain sweeping over the stagecoach. The driver cracked his whip over the team of horses, hoping to outrun the cloudburst.

Rather than huddling against the seat, Eva outstretched her hand to catch the oversize raindrops then she inhaled a deep breath of rain-scented air. Spellbound, Raven watched her tilt her face to the mist swirling around the window. A woman who embraced storms? What else did she like? he wondered.

Was she really the sister of the woman Gordon had betrayed? Or was she the woman scorned? There was also the possibility that she had been Gordon’s accomplice and he had double-crossed her by riding off with the extorted money. Perhaps she wanted her cut and wasn’t giving up until she found him.

Why wouldn’t she divulge her last name? he wondered. That made him highly suspicious. He knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story. He could sense it.

You’re thinking too damn hard, Raven. Before long, you’ll be gone and Eva will continue her crusade with or without you.

Raven glanced away, watching the curtain of rain sweep past the stagecoach then fizzle out as if it hadn’t been there at all. If nothing else, the shower settled the dust. At best, the midday storm might have waylaid the unidentified bushwhacker. Better yet, he might slip and fall on the treacherous mountain trails. If he ended up at the bottom of a canyon, it would be one less thing for Raven to fret about.

Of course, that would be too easy. When had life been easy? Never that Raven could recall.

“Lunch will be served at the upcoming station!” George called down to the passengers. “Eat heartily, friends, because it will be a long ride before we stop for supper.”

Raven noted the slur in George’s voice. Stage drivers were known to be heavy drinkers, he recalled. George had been tipping his stashed bottle all morning. That explained the bushy-haired man’s daring when he’d asked how Raven possibly could have married a woman like Eva. He hadn’t taken offense to the tactless question. It was obvious to everyone with eyes in his head that he and Eva didn’t belong together.

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