Norah Hess - Raven.pdf - Ebooks ENG 03 - MMarkMMark

Raven

Norah Hess

Leisure Books

mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Raven

A Peanut Press Book

Published by

peanutpress.com, Inc.

www.peanutpress.com

ISBN: 0-7408-1058-8

First Peanut Press Edition

Electronic format made

available by arrangement with

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

276 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10001

The name "Leisure Books" is a trademark of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

With love to sister June.

Through the uncurtained window of a log cabin a shrill scream pierced the night.

And in the dark of midnight a baby girl with pitch-black hair was born.

She was named Raven.

Chapter One

Nineteen-year-old Raven McCloud Spencer knelt at her husband's side, watching his life's blood spill out

onto the dirty floor of the saloon.

Her green eyes shed no tears. Her only emotion was relief. At last she was free of him. Never again

would she be forced to sit beside him at a gambling table, exposed to the penetrating eyes of the rabble

that gathered at Milo Spencer's table to ogle the firm tops of breasts revealed by her low-cut dress.

She had objected strongly the first week after they were married when Milo ordered her to wear the

revealing gown. She had exclaimed in disgust, "It practically shows my entire breasts!"

He had only laughed and drawled. "That's the idea, honey. Just keep the nipples covered. I want the men

so busy trying to see down the front of your dress, they won't be paying any attention to what my fingers

are doing."

She had not given in at first, but when he backed up his verbal threats with his fists, she had no choice.

So it had continued, the men ogling her bare-bosomed beauty, lust stabbing out of their bold, hungry

eyes. Milo was often urged to use her as his ante. He had always refused… until last night.

He had been losing heavily, despite his slick manipulation of the cards. She could tell he was becoming

desperate by the sheen of sweat on his brow.

Of the five men who had been playing, three had dropped out and there remained only her husband and

a man whose dusty clothes and unshaven face said that he had been on a cattle drive for some time.

Unlike the other men, who looked at her with leering eyes, this one hadn't seemed to pay any attention to

her since he joined the game.

She had been startled and shocked when the cowboy said, "There's close to a thousand dollars lying

there on the table. You can have it all in exchange for letting me spend one night with your wife."

She had looked at Milo and gasped softly when she saw indecision in his eyes. He was actually

considering the man's offer. In the hush that came over the table and bystanders, she had jumped to her

feet and run from the saloon….

* * *

As the patrons and saloon women stood in a circle around Raven and her dead husband, she felt the

bartender gently lift her to her feet. Milo had been caught cheating at cards.

"Let me take you back to your room, Raven. A couple of the men will carry Milo over to the funeral

home. You can make arrangements with the director in the morning."

Funeral arrangements, Raven thought bitterly. Well, at least money would be no problem.

When they arrived at her room and she unlocked the door, the big saloon owner said awkwardly, "If

you're short of money, Raven, to see Milo properly buried, I can lend you what you need."

"That's awfully kind of you, Tom, but it's not necessary," she said automatically, unable to believe that any

of this was real.

The big man shrugged. "I thought I'd offer. If you change your mind, you know where I am."

Raven stepped into her room and after locking the door behind her she flung herself onto the bed and let

her hopeless tears flow. As of tonight, her whole life had changed. How could she live with herself after

what her husband had forced her to do?

"Damn you, Tory," she sobbed, "where were you when I needed you so desperately?"

She hadn't seen her brother, twelve years her elder, for over a year. He had been working as a ranch

hand on a big spread in Nevada and had seemed content for the time being.

But she knew her brother well, his restlessness, his inability to settle down in one place for long. He could

have moved on twice since she'd last seen him.

Tory was thirty-one years old, and ever since she could remember, his dream had been to own his own

ranch some day. "I want to be my own boss, Raven," he'd say. "I want to do things the way I think they

should be done, not have to listen to orders that I know are wrong."

Twelve-year-old Tory and Grandpa McCloud had raised her since the night she was born. Her

prolonged birth had been too much for her frail little mother, and sighing gently, she had joined her

husband, dead from an Indian arrow only three months before.

Raven's rearing had been a haphazard affair, but full of love. She had learned from her grandfather

honesty and the ability to look life in the face.

She could still hear him say, "Take all you can from life, Raven. If you don't, it will take from you."

"How do you stop it taking, Grandpa?" she had asked.

"You gotta stand up to it and not let it get the best of you. If what you want is worth havin', fight tooh and

nail for it. But if it's of small importance, don't waste your wits on it. And always remember this, honey:

The young fool will die an old fool if he don't pay heed to his mistakes as he goes along the trail of life."

The golden, happy time had lasted seventeen years, spent on the small farm in South Dakota. Then one

summer day her life was shattered. Claude McCloud had been struck down by a lightning bolt during a

fierce electrical storm.

Overwhelmed by their grandfather's death, she and Tory had tried to carry on for a year, working the

farm. But with the mainstay of their lives gone, their hearts weren't in it. It was the old man's gentle

encouragement that had made them go on when the hot sun had sweat pouring off their face. He would

remind them that when winter set in, all they'd have to do was sit in front of the fireplace and toast their

feet.

One late September day, a day she would never forget, she and Tory had taken their meager supply of

wheat to the miller in the nearby town of Crestwood. Their business concluded, they had started to return

home when a man barreling out of a saloon almost knocked her down. He grabbed her by the arms just

in time to keep her from hitting the wooden sidewalk. She looked up into the face of the most handsome

man she had ever seen.

He wasn't from around Crestwood, she knew. His black suit was too nice, his boots too shiny.

It was obvious that the stranger was just as taken with her as she was with him. His white teeth flashed

her an apologetic smile. "Pardon my clumsiness, miss," he said, his hands still on her arms. "My name is

Milo Spencer. It would please me greatly if you would join me in a cup of tea in the hotel dining room. I

must do something to show you how sorry I am for almost knocking you down."

She had looked at Tory for guidance. Should she go with the stranger or not? His answer had been a

firm shake of the head. She looked back into the handsome face, and for the first time in her life didn't

heed an order from one of her menfolk.

Milo had courted her for a week, bringing her chocolates, and once a small, fancy fan. She ignored her

brother's frowning face every time her suitor came riding up to the farm. The day Milo asked her to be

his wife, she again ignored her brother's warning not to marry the man who would take her away from the

back-breaking work the farm demanded.

"He's a gambler, Raven," Tory had tried to warn her. "He wants to use you. He wants to use your beauty

to draw men to his gambling table."

She had not listened to her brother and had married the flashy gambler the following day. Before she left

her sad-faced relative, she asked, "What will you do now, Tory? Will you stay on at the farm?"

"No." Tory stared out over the land where he had worked so hard all his life. "I'll sell the farm and go to

Montana. I've always had a secret dream of being a cowboy, maybe a rancher someday." He turned his

worried eyes back to his sister. "Do you know where he's taking you? I'd like to keep in touch, know if

you're well, if maybe you need me."

"We're going to Montana, too." Raven smiled. "We'll be staying at the Crown Hotel in Clayton. Maybe

you can visit me before you take off for some ranch."

"You can be sure I'll do that." Tory's eyes were wet when he gave her a fierce hug. "Take care, little

sister. I'll miss you."

Tears pooling in her own eyes, she had blindly made her way to where Milo waited with the saddled

horses. He helped her to mount, and as they rode away, she didn't look back. She didn't want to take

with her the picture of the old homestead that had sheltered her all her life, the brother who stood

watching her ride away, the distant view of the cemetery where her parents and grandfather rested.

I'm a married woman now, she told herself, and I must look forward to a new life with my husband.

It had taken but a short time to realize that Tory had been right about Milo. She didn't tell Tory this,

though, on the day he spent with her before riding off to look for work at some ranch. She wanted him to

think that she was the happiest woman in the world.

There had been a sparsity of letters from her brother over the past two years. Usually he wrote to notify

her that he was moving on to a different ranch.

Where he was now, she had no idea. She hadn't heard from him in months. She wondered if she could

bear to look him in the face after what she'd done.

Raven scooted off the bed, wiped her eyes, and tried to compose herself. She had to make some kind of

plan. But how can I make plans when I feel as if my life is over? she wailed inwardly.

She walked over to the window, pulled aside the drapes which sagged with an accumulation of dirt and

dust. She yanked the window up and propped it open with a stick that lay on the sill for that purpose.

The street below was almost empty. It was long past midnight and the married men had gone home to

bed. A couple of drunken cowboys staggered down the boardwalk.

She had been sitting in this same spot when Milo had burst into the room earlier that evening.

"Put on that red dress I fancy," he'd ordered. She could tell he'd been drinking, and from the fury on his

face she guessed he'd been losing all afternoon.

"Do you want me to go over to the saloon with you?" she'd asked nervously.

"No, you're going to that hotel across the street— to earn a thousand dollars." Striding to the battered

wardrobe, he pulled out a red satin dress with a daring neckline and thrust it at her

"A thousand—?" she gasped "No, Milo, you can't—"

One look at his clenched fists told her there was no point in refusing. She did not doubt that he would

force her to do what he wanted.

"I've lost all our money, every penny. Now you're going to get me a new stake from that cowboy. He's

so hot to bed you, it probably won't take more than three minutes." Milo laughed. "Go on, honey. I've

arranged everything. He'll meet you in the hotel dining room."

Raven put her head in her hands and sobbed. She wished she could wipe out the memory of what had

happened next.

The clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation had directed Raven to the hotel dining room.

She'd stood in the archway, her eyes looking over the diners, searching for the cowboy. He wasn't there.

As if in a daze, she'd made her way to a table in the corner of the room.

As she settled herself, removing her shawl and draping it over her chair back, she sensed the many eyes

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