Raven and the Cowboy: A Loveswept Historical Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

approach from the south.” Too quickly she tried to stand, swayed unsteadily, and caught Tucker’s arm.
    “Whoa there!” He grabbed her, sliding his arm around her as he had last night when he’d pulled her into the cave. It all came flashing back, the feel of the woman against him, the way she nestled close. He groaned and would have let her go had she not looked up at him with such trust in her eyes.
    Damn
! What was he going to do with her? He couldn’t leave her there, yet he couldn’t be sure he could get his own self back to the trail. “Riders? How can you tell?”
    “I hear the horses’ hoofbeats in the rock. Listen, you can hear them too.”
    “Riders? Hell!” Tucker listened, but all he could hear was the pounding in his head. Could it be the bandits? Why weren’t they following the old miner? Tucker didn’t know where the treasure was. If they discovered Tucker instead of the prospector, they were going to be even madder. A second escape was unlikely, especially now that he was not alone.
    Tucker picked up his jacket, offered it to the Indian girl. When she refused, he threaded his arms through the sleeves. Wearing it was easier than carrying it.
    Taking one final deep breath, he whistled and waited for Yank’s answering neigh. A second horse echoed Yank’s reply, and as Tucker closed his eyes and stepped out on the lip of the rock, he heard the two animals moving above them.
    “I hope that second horse is yours.”
    “Yes, Onawa follows us. Do we go?”
    “We try.” Taking a chance, he looked down and swore.
    This was not going to be easy. He had to find a way to think about something other than his body bouncing off the rocks below.
    “
Onawa
. What does it mean?”
    He delayed. She trusted him to get her out of this mess when his feet refused to move. How in hell was he going to force himself out onto that ledge?
    “
Onawa
means wide-awake,” she said. “Don’t look down. Just stick close to the wall and I’ll be beside you.”
    She gave him a nudge and tried to find something to take his mind off his fear. “Do you have a name?”
    “Several.”
    “Which of them shall I call you?”
    He finally took a step, a deep breath, then another step.
    “The name I was born with is Tucker, Tucker Farrell.”
    For a long minute, he hugged the cliff, his arm still supporting her, his nose pressed against the hard rock wall. Then his foot hit a loose pebble, which rolled to the narrow edge and fell. There was no sound of it hitting bottom.
    He froze again.
    “Tucker Farrell,” the woman said softly. “I like that name. A proud defender.”
    He would have argued that the only thing he defended was his own life, but he had a sudden flash of the miner back in the cantina. Coming to his aid had been a temporary aberration. He wondered if the old man had gotten away, how badly he’d been shot. For a moment, Tucker allowed himself to admit that he’d done a good deed. Then he remembered the necktie party and what had almost happened.
    “Don’t count on me, ma’am. I’m just a drifter, a misfit. Nothing valiant about me.”
    “Your animal power comes from the cougar, Mr. Farrell. You are, or you will become, that proud creature. I know. I have dreamed it.”
    As Tucker stewed over that bizarre observation, heforgot his fear and took a step, then another. “Where’d you get a name like Raven?” he asked.
    “That was my mother’s name. It is tradition. I am considered a spirit woman.”
    “Spirit woman. Of course. I should have known that.” As he considered that revelation, they reached the top of the trail.
    “Onawa! My friend.” The Indian woman laid her head against the neck of the small black-and-white horse for a moment before climbing on. She rode without a saddle.
    Yank looked from Tucker to the filly and back again, his great nostrils blowing air, his head held high as if to say,
I’m the protector here
. Tucker gave the horse a disgusted look and patted his saddlebags to make