Raven had spent the better part of the morning trying to reconcile herself to her fate. The more she thought about the situation, the less she liked it. The man-beast was much larger than she was. Even if she remained constantly on guard, there was always the chance he might catch her unawares and take what he wanted by force.
Despite his shaggy-haired, beastlike appearance, Cale Landry did not appear to be a brutal man, but appearances could be deceiving. Her uncle had seemed a kindly man. She had been more than willing to stay with him when her father had brought her to live with the Nez Perce after her mother had died. But Two Bears had been a bully and a brute. She had suffered many a bruise before she learned to stay out of his way.
Raven had been ready and willing to leave the Nez Perce camp when her father returned for her several years later. Though Orrin Schuyler worked her like a beast of burden, at least he did not slap or cuff her. As they spent more time together, they had struck a wordless bargain in which she helped him with the work that must be done, and he kept her safe from the men who sought to use her for their pleasure.
Only, in the end, her father had sacrificed her to save himself. She had only agreed to the bargain because she had seen something in Cale Landry’s face beyond mere lust for a woman. His eyes had held a longing, a loneliness she had recognized and understood, because it dwelled within her as well.
Raven forced her thoughts away from contemplation of a physical joining between her and the huge, hairy beast. She could not help feeling afraid. She reassured herself with the knowledge that she had told Cale—it felt strange to give the beast a name—that she would not lie with him. If he tried to force her, he would find out she meant what she had said.
Raven became aware of a group of men coming toward her at about the same time she realized she didn’t have her knife. It was a fatal error to be without a weapon, a mistake she had not made for a long time. But the events of the morning had been extraordinary, and she had been concerned about getting away from Cale and having time alone to think, so she had left her knife with her pack on the mule.
Slowly, carefully, Raven shifted the bundle of sticks off her shoulders and down to the tall grass at her feet. To her dismay, the drunken men didn’t stay in a group. They shifted around her, like a pack of wolves stalking its quarry, making it impossible to keep her eyes on all of them at the same time.
One shouted to draw her attention, while another rushed her from behind. Raven eluded him and darted between two others, who both grabbed for her and ended up running into each other. She sprinted for the spot where she had left Cale, but she hadn’t gotten far before she was dragged down from behind. She lashed out with her feet, catching one of her tormentors in the shin with a lucky blow. Another man took his place.
The thunder of a Hawken was followed by the painful yelp of one of the men who held her down. He fell sideways with an awful howl. The rest of the men froze in a tableau of stunned surprise that made Raven want to laugh. She was too busy yanking her dress down over her exposed thighs to find humor in the situation.
“The woman is mine,” a harsh voice announced. “Anybody wants to dispute that can deal with me.”
To Raven’s astonishment, the men each took a cautious step backward. It seemed no one wanted to contest Cale’s claim on her. One look at his face and she could see why. Death waited for the unlucky soul who challenged him.
Raven stumbled to her feet in time to see that there was one foolhardy man who seemed determined to fight. Undaunted, he stood with fists perched on hips and feet spread wide.
It was Ribbon Jack.
Raven felt a shiver of revulsion travel her spine. On his best day, Ribbon Jack had not been an attractive man. Now, with several bright pink scars across his right cheek, he looked even less agreeable. His brown eyes glittered with malice as he eyed her. She made an unconscious move backward toward Cale.
He put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her behind him, handing her his Hawken. “Stay out of the way,” he ordered.
Cale took his eyes off Ribbon Jack just long enough to make sure that Raven was free of harm’s way. It was a mistake that nearly cost him his life.
Ribbon Jack lunged with a knife he had pulled from the sheath tied between his shoulders. His blow would have caught Cale in the heart if he hadn’t thrown up his arm at the last instant. Instead, the knife caught in the thick sleeve of his bearskin coat.
In seconds the two men were surrounded by the drunken crowd, which was ready to enjoy this entertainment as a welcome substitute for the fun they had been denied with the Nez Perce woman.
Cale hadn’t realized how much he needed this fight. It gave him the opportunity to release the anger he felt over being fooled by Orrin Schuyler. It helped that Ribbon Jack was a strong adversary. Cale was taller than the other man, but Ribbon Jack was thick with muscle. Apparently Jack hadn’t drunk much of the rotgut that passed for alcohol among the mountain men. His reflexes were quick, and Cale was hard-set to keep from being stabbed, even though he now had a knife in his hand as well.
Now that he was locked in mortal combat, Cale realized he didn’t want to kill the other man. Not that he hadn’t killed before, and wouldn’t again, but it seemed to him that Ribbon Jack had already suffered for his encounter with Raven. Living with the knowledge that he had been bested by a woman was punishment enough for any man.
Cale feinted in one direction but held his place. When Ribbon Jack lunged, Cale managed to catch the man’s wrist and forced the knife from Jack’s hand. Jack would have continued the fight with his fists, but Cale held the tip of his Green River knife to the other man’s throat and said, “I’m satisfied. Enough for you?”
Ribbon Jack had no choice but to grunt his assent. Once he was free, he snatched his knife from the ground and returned it to the sheath between his shoulders. “That woman is trouble,” he muttered to Cale. “She should be taken care of.”
Cale was left with no doubt how Ribbon Jack would “take care of” Raven if he ever got his hands on her. But he said, “I’ll take care of her. You just make sure you keep your distance.”
Ribbon Jack didn’t bother to answer him, just turned and headed away by himself, too humiliated to try and join the men who had watched the fight. They never missed him. They were already passing around the kettle of rotgut.
Cale headed back to the campfire, where he found Laidlaw waiting for him.
“Business finished?” Laidlaw asked.
“I can’t help feeling sorry for the man,” Cale said. He shoved a hand through his long black hair as he settled down beside Laidlaw. He found his Hawken lying beside the fire, but no sign of Raven. “Where’s the girl?”
Laidlaw shrugged. “Took her pack off your mule and headed toward the trees. Figured you must have told her to go hide herself somewheres, so she couldn’t get into any more trouble.”
Cale swore a blue streak. He came to his feet like an avenging fury, Hawken in hand. “Damn that woman! I knew it was a mistake getting talked into taking her home with me.”
“What’s wrong?” Laidlaw asked.
“I didn’t send her anywhere,” Cale said. “Damned female must’ve run off.”
Laidlaw laughed. “Why not just let her go?”
“She belongs to me,” Cale said in a hard voice. “Until the first snow falls, she’s mine. And I don’t give up what’s mine.”
He didn’t bother explaining his fierce desire to possess the woman. He didn’t quite understand it himself. He only knew he wasn’t going to let her go.
Cale mounted his horse, grabbed the lead rope on the mule, and headed in the direction Raven had gone. She wouldn’t get far on foot. And when he caught up to her . . . she would pay.