The Bounty Hunter and the Heiress

Finch Carol

He shouldn’t have been surprised when the gutsy female walked straight up to him—but damn if he wasn’t. Then she shocked him speechless when she said, “Did you purchase my ticket, J.D.?”

Calling him J.D. suggested they were on intimate terms. He sat there, too stunned to react, while the three men and woman glanced back and forth between him and the daring female. Even the agent at the ticket window perked up at the unexpected scene unfolding in the depot.

She sighed dramatically, shook her curly auburn head then smiled at him in tolerant amusement. Miss Calico, with her matching parasol, set her two carpetbags on the empty chair beside him.

To his further astonishment, she doubled at the waist, pushed his hat back to stare him squarely in the eye and said, “Honestly, love, I know we were married recently but you’ll have to remember you have a wife to consider now.”

You could have heard a pin drop on the planked floor of the depot. Everyone’s jaws sagged with incredulous disbelief. If Raven hadn’t trained himself not to show the slightest reaction, his mouth would have dropped open and his teeth would have clattered to the floor.

Married? What the hell was she talking about? Sure, he’d been drinking last night but he certainly would have remembered something like that!

Seemingly unaware or unconcerned with the rapt attention she’d attracted, Miss Calico kissed his bearded cheek then sashayed over to purchase her ticket. She returned to take her place beside him. By that time, Raven had managed to sit up a little straighter in his chair and shake off the alluring scent of her perfume that had clogged his senses.

When Miss Calico brushed her shoulder affectionately against his and smiled at him as if he were the sun in her universe, something very strange and unfamiliar unfolded in the region of his chest. It was probably indigestion, he decided. He’d wolfed down his breakfast in a rush so he’d have time to swing by the bank and dry goods store before catching the southbound stagecoach.

When she glided her hand over his, giving it a seemingly affectionate squeeze, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t sure he could have formulated a sentence at the moment if his life depended on it.

“I’m very much looking forward to the rest of our honeymoon, J.D.,” she said in a stage whisper.

Beneath lowered lashes, Raven observed the expressions plastered on the faces of the other passengers. Something in the way they stared at him had altered drastically since his supposed bride arrived to make over him as if he were special to her. He seemed to have acquired instant respectability because everyone thought he was married to the stunning female—whose name he still didn’t know, damn it.

“The stage has arrived,” the ticket agent announced.

Miss Calico was the first one on her feet. She grabbed her satchels then tugged him from his chair. “Don’t forget your saddle, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry about the loss of your favorite horse. I know how much he meant to you.”

The comment confirmed to the other passengers that she knew specific details about him. She sealed their connection by adding, “I’m anxious to watch you train the replacement. In time, I’m sure the new saddle horse will be as invaluable as the last one.”

Then, to his absolute amazement, and that of the onlookers, she pushed up on tiptoe to press another kiss to his bearded jaw. Again, the tantalizing fragrance of her perfume infiltrated his senses and fogged his brain. He couldn’t recall, but he presumed she had led him outside like a stupid lamb to slaughter. Then she directed the other passengers where to sit so the newlyweds could cozy up side by side in the coach.

It was only while Raven was tossing his saddle and the satchels into the luggage compartment on the back of the coach that his head cleared long enough for him to realize that he hadn’t shut down the woman’s charade and sent her packing. Worse, several passersby heard her call out to him. When she referred to him as sweetheart, she stopped traffic on the boardwalks and attracted owlish stares.

While she stood there, all smiles and cheery disposition, he stepped up beside her and bent his head to ask confidentially, “Who in the hell are you?”

“Evangeline Raven, of course. Really, J.D., you’ve been calling me Eva for weeks. Last night you swore I was the love of your life.”

“Ha, curse of my life is more like it,” he said and grunted. “Last night you interrupted a perfectly good drunk. And here you are this morning to ruin a perfectly good hangover. Be warned that you’re going to regret this little charade of yours, I guaran-damn-tee it, Eva.”

He wheeled around to tuck his Winchester rifle beside his saddle and she followed after him. Flashing an impudent grin, she said, “I told you that you hadn’t seen the last of me. You were warned, darling.”

“I thought you were a man-hater.”

“Can you think of a better way to get even with a man than to pretend to marry one of the worst offenders?” she countered in a syrupy tone.

“What the hell—?” came a startled voice from overhead.

Raven looked over the top of Eva’s auburn head when the stage driver’s gravelly voice boomed above him. From his elevated perch, the grizzled driver, whose bushy hair, long beard and mustache concealed most of his wrinkled features, stared at him in bewilderment.

“You’re married?” the driver croaked like a bullfrog. “To her? You must have more charm than I thought.”

Raven inclined his head to take a better look at the driver. He recognized George Knott, the man he had interviewed after a stagecoach holdup the previous year.

“He has oodles of charm,” Eva defended as she laid her hand on Raven’s forearm. “I’m honored to be his wife.”

Raven noticed the speculative glances coming his way again. This new respectability in white society beat anything he’d ever seen. One attractive female in calico, who testified to his charm and claimed to be his new bride, and wham! Suddenly he wasn’t the dangerous bastard everyone thought he was. He was considered almost human.