The Gunfighter and the Heiress

chapter Sixteen



Natalie was not surprised when she realized the Harpers had descended into the labyrinth of canyons south of Taloga Springs to hide out. The outlaws found a cave large enough to accommodate them. They removed her from the tarp and dumped her in the corner. After building a fire near the mouth of the cavern, they commenced celebrating their scheme by opening two bottles of whiskey. To her vast relief, they passed out and didn’t bother her.

With her feet curled up beside her, Natalie discreetly retrieved the dagger Crow had given her. Even though her hands were tied behind her back, she was able to saw at the ropes wrapped around her wrists. She nicked her skin and drew blood but she was determined to free herself. It was tedious work and she stopped countless times to rest her aching arms. Fortunately she had all night because the Harper brothers were sprawled on the stone floor, their greasy heads propped on their saddles, snoring up a storm.

It took several hours to free herself. The golden light of dawn spilled into the cavern by the time she slowly rose to her feet. After long hours of being tied up and hanging upside down over the horse, it took several minutes before she felt steady. She removed her cumbersome petticoats, then drew the back hem of her gown between her legs to fashion makeshift breeches. Since she didn’t have a belt to hold up the yards of fabric, she tiptoed over to make use of one of the holsters the men had tossed in the back of the cavern near a small tunnel. Natalie did not intend to follow it to see if it was an escape hatch or dead end. She was using the large exit—if she could leave without alerting the sleeping desperadoes.

Plus, she was not leaving without taking their arsenal of weapons with her, though she knew they had other weapons stashed on their person. But at least they wouldn’t have extra pistols and ammunition to blast away at her if they awoke and realized she was gone.

She didn’t want to repeat that unnerving fiasco of dodging bullets with Marsh and his goons.

When Georgie Harper rolled to his side and groaned Natalie froze to the spot. She hardly dared to breathe, for fear the sounds would echo around the cave and wake the bandits. She didn’t want to fight her way to freedom as she had yesterday.

Sweet mercy! she thought as she plucked up the six-shooters and tucked them into the folds of her skirt-turned-breeches. She had crammed so much danger, excitement and new experiences into the past two weeks that it seemed like six months of living.

This is what Crow’s life is like, she realized with a start. He faced perilous situations constantly. Every day tested his physical stamina, heightened his acute senses and sharpened his wits. If she could become one-fourth as capable as Crow she would be well pleased with herself.

Her thoughts scattered when Willy Harper moaned groggily and squirmed in his sleep. Natalie glanced anxiously toward the mouth of the chamber. She was as far from the exit as she could get and there were three burly outlaws standing in her way—lying in her path was more accurate. But still!

Inching along the wall, taking care not to let the spare pistols tumble from her improvised pockets and clank against the rock floor, Natalie moved along the perimeter, watching where she stepped. She stopped breathing when Charley mumbled inaudibly. She was afraid he’d rouse his brothers and the chase would be on before she had a head start.

To her vast relief, all three men remained asleep. She stepped outside to inhale a deep breath of fresh air. She would have gladly offered to purchase another two bottles of liquor for her captors if it would guarantee they’d be conked out until she was long gone.

Natalie moved swiftly down the footpath that descended thirty-five feet to the canyon floor. She did admit the Harpers had chosen an excellent fortress that provided a broad view of the crevices, arroyos and unique rock formations that towered overhead. She wanted to take time to wash her face and refresh herself in the clear spring, complete with a small waterfall that tumbled from the caprock to splatter off a stairway of limestone ledges. But time was of the essence. She had to tolerate the lingering odor of the mildewy tarp and smelly kerchief that clung to her clothing.

Her first order of business was to reach the four horses tethered near a stand of cedar trees at the base of an arroyo. She cast an occasional glance at the ridge above her to make sure the bandits didn’t emerge like a swarm of angry hornets. Moving quickly, she straddled one horse bareback then grabbed the reins to the other three.

The sun cast colorful light and shadows on the rugged rock formations as she reined north. At least she hoped it was north. According to Crow, she had a lousy sense of direction.

She grimaced in disappointment when angry shouts boomed around the stone walls. She glanced up to see Georgie Harper pumping his fist at her, promising hellish torment and torture. Charley and Willy promptly joined him on the ledge, calling her all sorts of foul names.

“Come back here!” Georgie bellowed furiously. “I’ll show you no mercy when we catch up with you.”

“I’m gonna make you wish you were dead!” Willy yelled.

“And I’ll help him,” Charley seconded. “You’ll never get out of this canyon alive!”

Natalie ignored them. She didn’t have time to exchange threats with the outlaws for she was hell-bent on escape.

From their elevated fortress, they pitched rocks at her, startling the horses. The horses danced sideways and threw their heads nervously while rocks pelted them. Natalie gritted her teeth and held tightly to the reins, though her weary arm felt as if it were being stretched past its limits.

Then the shooting started. She looked down at her makeshift pockets, noting two six-shooters had fallen by the wayside during her hasty descent on the footpath. Plus, the Harpers had spare hardware tucked in the waistbands of their breeches.

“Awk!” Natalie squawked when gunshots ricocheted off the rock walls, pelting her face with pebbles and filling her eyes with grit and dust.

Her eyes were watering so bad that she could barely see where she was going. She wiped them on the sleeve of her gown then yelped when another bullet thudded into the boulder near her shoulder. When the horses bolted forward and yanked on the reins, nearly jerking her arm from its socket, she gasped in pain.

“Curse it!” Natalie grumbled as she fought to regain control of the startled animals. She didn’t want to release them, knowing the Harpers would chase them down on foot, then chase her on horseback.

Natalie instinctively ducked when a bullet whistled past her head, nearly putting a new part in her hair. She spared a quick glance over her shoulder to see Georgie blasting away with one of the pistols she had lost on the footpath. Charley had grabbed the other one. The two men fired at her again.

They were excellent marksmen, she noted. Flying bullets missed her by inches but grazed the ribs of the mount she was riding. The horse reared up on its hind legs and screamed in fright. She clamped her arms around the wild-eyed horse’s neck. But without a saddle to anchor herself, she slid backward and landed on the ground with a thud and groan, twisting her ankle in the process.

She cast a frantic glance at the Harper brothers who were cursing her as they stormed downhill to capture her. Her heart hammered a hundred miles an hour as she struggled to control the prancing horses, while the Harpers fired repeatedly in an attempt to force her to release the reins.

I’m not going to make it, Natalie thought as she scrambled madly, hoping and praying she could claw her way onto one of the horses before a bullet brought her down.

One almost did. She tucked and rolled beneath one of the high-stepping horses then slammed her shoulder against a protruding boulder. She shifted before the frightened horse trampled her. Then she asked herself if it was better to be trampled than have three furious outlaws follow through on the vicious threats they hurled at her.



At dawn, Bart rapped his trademark knock on Van’s door. He had intercepted another message, delivered by the second teenager who worked for the hotel. When Van didn’t open the door immediately, Bart turned the latch and discovered it was unlocked.

“Van? The Harpers are holding Natalie in Phantom Canyon.”

He pushed his drooping spectacles back in place as he hurried across the sitting room. He had expected to see Van pacing the floorboards, awaiting the next missive. Surely he hadn’t tried to drown his troubles by downing glass after glass of whiskey. Truth be told, Bart had been tempted to guzzle a few drinks to take the edge off his nerves. But he wanted to keep his wits about him. He and the Rangers needed to assist Van in rescuing Natalie—if it wasn’t too late.

Bart glanced down at the scrawled handwriting on the note that said, If you want to see your wife alive, come alone to Phantom Canyon.

“No chance of that,” Bart muttered on his way to the bedroom. “What the hell?”

His voice trailed off when he saw Van’s everyday garments scattered on the empty bed—and no sign of the headband, buckskin clothing and moccasins he always carried with him.

“Hey, Crow! Are you in here?” Montgomery called from the sitting room.

“I’m in here but Crow turned Kiowa during the night,” Bart called to the Rangers. “He didn’t bother to tell me that he wasn’t waiting for the second message.”

When the Rangers formed a semicircle behind him, Bart gestured to the discarded white man’s clothing. “He’s wearing buckskin and the beaded headband his mother gave him before she died during the army’s ambush. I’d say he’s gone on the warpath.”

“What chance does he have against those three outlaws?” Phelps asked no one in particular.

Bart well remembered what Van had said to him last night about sacrificing himself to save Natalie. He whirled toward the door. “We need to set a fast pace. The Harpers are holed up in Phantom Canyon.”

“I know where it is,” Bristow said as he fell into step behind Bart.

“So does Van. It’s the place where three members of his family died,” he said grimly. “If there are such things as Indian spirits lurking in the Kiowas’ former stronghold I hope they haunt the living hell out of the Harpers.”

“He should have waited for us,” Phelps grumbled as he hurried down the steps. “I know he doesn’t respect the Rangers, but we can provide reinforcement if he needs it.”

Bart knew Van’s only concern was the safety and welfare of his wife. It reminded him of another time and place when he had set aside his own wants and needs to ensure the happiness of the woman who had held his heart—and still did.



Natalie scrambled madly in an attempt to control the jittery horses. She yelped when an unseen hand snagged her arm and yanked her behind the oversize boulder. She tried to scream but another hand clamped over her nose and mouth while she was dragged against a rock-hard chest. Her captor jerked the reins from her hands so fast they burned in pain.

Dear God! She hadn’t realized one of the Harpers had circled around to sneak up on her. If she didn’t escape now she wouldn’t have another chance. She dug in her heels and pushed—hard—trying to knock her captor off balance.

“Calm down, sunshine. I’m on your side, remember?”

Natalie nearly wept at the sound of Crow’s rich, baritone voice. She tilted her head sideways to stare into his grim expression. He wore the beaded headband, along with the buckskin clothes and moccasins he’d donned the day Teskee and Chulosa joined them in camp. Red, black and white war paint covered his cheeks, chin and forehead. If Natalie didn’t know and love Crow to such a fierce degree, she would have been terrified. He looked as formidable and dangerous as she had ever seen him.

“How did you find me?” she whispered.

“Old Kiowa trick…and a lighted torch to follow the tracks through the dark alley. How did you escape them?”

“Old Kiowa trick,” she said and managed a faint smile. “I used the dagger you gave me to cut the ropes off my wrists. Also, I relied on everything else you taught me.”

Her comment prompted the slightest hint of a smile. It didn’t last long. His expression turned hard as he tucked her behind the boulder for protection.

“Remember how I keep telling you to stay put, and you defy me with one flimsy excuse after another?”

She nodded her tousled head.

“This time I really mean it, sunshine.”

“You and your rules,” she grumbled as she waved around the pistol she extracted from the fold of her makeshift breeches. “Here I am with spare hardware and you’re not letting me use it.”

Smiling faintly, he dropped a kiss to her lips, then crouched so he could spring into action.

“Crow, I—” Natalie clamped her mouth shut before she did the inexcusable and blurted out that she was crazy in love with him, even when she knew she meant nothing special to him.

When he frowned questioningly, she shooed him on his way. He surged between the horses that still tugged at the reins he had clamped in his hand. Natalie shook her head in amazement as he crouched down between the skittish horses. She predicted the Harpers were going to be surprised when they raced across the canyon floor and realized Crow had materialized where she had been a moment before.

Despite Crow’s orders to stay down while he took all the chances with his life and became the target to lure in the Harpers, Natalie came to her knees so she could poke her head over the boulder. Sure enough, the Harpers skidded to a startled halt when Crow expelled a war whoop and rose to his feet, while the horses circled him like a moving shield.

“Well, hell!” Georgie scowled, then took aim to fire.

“Where’d he come from?” Charley muttered sourly.

“I’ll take care of him.” Willy closed his left eye to take Crow’s measure on the sight of the gun barrel.

What was the matter with Crow? she mused in frustration. He didn’t have a pistol with him. And he called her a daredevil? Natalie raised her pistol and aimed at Willy who was trying to get a clear shot at Crow. Willy squawked in surprise when she shot him in the leg before he could fire at Crow. She didn’t dare glance in Crow’s direction since she had disobeyed his direct order—again.

Her mouth dropped open when Crow hooked his left arm around one of the horses’ neck and tossed his left leg over the animal’s back. How he kept from falling off the side of the horse she had no idea—his superior strength and practice was her best guess.

He clamped all four sets of reins between his teeth and urged the horses forward, while George tried to shoot him—twice. George yelped when Crow ran the horses straight at him, knocking him flat and sending his pistol cartwheeling through the air.

Natalie blinked in amazement when Crow maneuvered the four horses so he could kick out with his right foot to land a brain-scrambling blow to Georgie’s chin.

The outlaw collapsed. He lay face up and motionless on the ground.

Natalie darted a glance at Charley who had the good sense to turn tail and run. Not that he escaped Crow’s wrath. The bandit only had time to retreat ten paces before Crow and his horses plowed over him. Charley screamed his head off when Crow struck out with his right foot and slammed the outlaw’s skull into the ground. Natalie winced, certain the hard blow jarred teeth and smashed Charley’s nose into the dirt.

Crow’s unnerving war whoop echoed around the chasm like a death knell as Willy staggered to his feet, still clutching his bloody leg. His eyes were wide as goose eggs as he hobbled back in the direction he’d come, firing his pistol erratically over his shoulder as he went. Crow ran him to ground and sent him skidding in the outwash of loose gravel at the base of an arroyo. Willy whimpered after he received a kick in the back of the head. He yelped, collapsed and lay unmoving.

While Natalie watched, Crow slid off the horse to retrieve leather strips from the pouch secured to his waist. Quick as a wink he lashed the bandits’ hands behind their backs. When he spared a glance at her, his eyes were like chips of ice and his expression was nothing short of ferocious.

“Turn away,” he demanded sharply. “I don’t want you to see this side of me. Get up and start walking.” He gestured to what she assumed was the north. “Bart and the Rangers should be here soon.”

She nodded her disheveled head, then turned her back. One of the men screamed bloody murder while she limped off on her swollen ankle. Another howl rose behind her, then another.

An unholy chant rippled around the canyon walls and she realized this time it was Crow, not the outlaws. The wild, piercing sound sent shivers down her spine. Several more chants mingled with the Harpers’ pained howls but Natalie kept limping in the direction Crow had sent her. Whatever was happening in the canyon seemed to be so much more than scare tactics and punishment for the bandits’ crimes.

When hoofbeats resounded ahead of her Natalie ducked behind a boulder and grabbed her pistol. She peaked around the oversize slab of rock to see Bart and the Rangers clattering downhill, displacing dust and pebbles as they came.

Natalie shot to her feet. “About time you showed up. Crow is taking care of the Harpers all by himself.”

All four men blinked in surprise. “Did Crow release you already?” Bart asked.

“No. I did that myself while the Harpers were sleeping off their bout with whiskey.”

They gaped at her so she reached into her garter to wave the stiletto in front of them. “Wedding gift from Crow. Contrary to the consensus in New Orleans high society, diamonds are not a woman’s best friend, a dagger is—”

Another bone-chilling wail echoed in the chasm. Maybe it was her imagination but she swore the sudden downdraft of wind sweeping over the caprock sounded like whispered voices.

Bemused, she glanced up at the men on horseback.

“Phantom Canyon,” Phelps informed her.

“Once there was a village where Donovan Crow grew up,” Bart added solemnly. “It’s the place where he lost most of his family and many of his friends. The army slaughtered the tribe’s horses, cattle and dozens of his clan. Those who survived were marched to the reservation in Indian Territory.”

Natalie suspected the strange chants Crow had uttered were some sort of ceremonial ritual. The unholy sounds had frightened her but she imagined they had really scared the bejeezus out of the Harpers. If the lost souls of the Kiowa and Comanche were swirling around Phantom Canyon, she would not be surprised.

Bart leaned down to extend his good arm so Natalie could boost herself up behind him. “Nice breeches, by the way,” he teased as she settled behind him.

“Thank you. I’m thinking of designing trousers expressly for women. Dresses are such a nuisance when you’re cutting yourself loose from ropes and running for your life.”

“Blair Wear?” he ventured with a chuckle.

Natalie giggled…until another ear-piercing scream filled the air. Followed by another…and another.

Phelps nudged his horse forward. “We better check on Crow and his prisoners.”

Natalie looped her arms around Bart’s waist and laid her head against his back. “I haven’t had much sleep the past two nights. I would give a small fortune for a nap.”

“You can have a nap for free, Nat,” he replied, patting her hand consolingly. “I’ll grab hold of you if you start to fall off.”

Natalie closed her eyes, sighed tiredly and dreamed of the Kiowa warrior who had appeared from nowhere to rescue her at the precise moment she needed him most.



Van stared down at the Harper brothers, who looked the worse for wear after he had dragged them behind their stolen horses to the stream. They lay faceup, their noses and mouths barely above the water—because he had propped rock pillows beneath their heads to allow them to breathe.

Considering they smelled like stale sweat and whiskey, they were probably suffering hellish hangovers. Van was sure it was the first time in a long while the bandits had bathed—unless they had been rained on. The cool water also cleansed their wounds and that was all the medical treatment they would receive until he had the answers he wanted.

Of all the places the Harpers could have held Natalie hostage, Phantom Canyon had given the best advantage. He knew the area exceptionally well and he had accurately guessed where the Harpers had holed up.

“Now then, let’s try again,” Van told his prisoners. “The stolen money? You remember it, don’t you? Bank robberies? Wounded bank tellers?”

“Don’t recall,” George snarled hatefully.

“Me, neither,” Charley chimed in.

“You can go to hell, Crow,” Willy sneered defiantly.

“Already been there,” Van replied. “I told the devil to expect you. Even as early as today if you aren’t cooperative.”

He walked into the water to kick the rock from under George’s head. While George struggled to keep his head above water—and couldn’t—Crow stepped over him to stare down at Charley and Willy.

“Who’s next, Charley? If you refuse to talk and you drown, I’ll torture the information from Willy before he bleeds to death from the gunshot wound.”

“You bastard—” Charley sneered before Van kicked the stone away and the bandit’s face was submerged.

George lifted his head and gasped for air, but he couldn’t hold himself up indefinitely so he grabbed a breath and submerged again.

Wide-eyed, Willy listened to his brothers gasp and then sink beneath the surface. “Let ’em go and I’ll tell you,” Willy bargained frantically. “None of us can run off after you slit our hamstrings. I got no chance anyway ’cause your wife shot me.”

Van gnashed his teeth when the bandit reminded him that Natalie had openly defied him—again. Always trying to steal his thunder, the hellion. He wondered if there was any way to break her of that annoying habit. And doubted it.

He looked down at the Harpers when the two oldest brothers burst to the surface simultaneously, huffing and puffing for air. “Change your minds yet?” he asked conversationally. They glowered at him and he shrugged. “We can do this all day because you’re long overdue for a good, soaking bath. I’ll be here paying my respects to my departed family in Phantom Canyon. You can hear their whispering voices in the wind and their murmurs in the stream. They are chanting for me to sacrifice you to avenge their deaths.”

Crow bit down on a grin when three howling voices erupted in the near distance. Maybe those Rangers weren’t such a bad lot since they were playing along with his scare tactics.

“All right,” Willy muttered. “I’ll tell—”

“Shut up, kid,” Georgie snarled on a gasping breath.

“I don’t wanna be sacrificed to Injun spirits,” Willy protested. “We hid the money in the cave where we stashed your wife. It’s back in the tunnel that leads to nowhere.”

“Damn it,” Charley growled on a ragged breath. “Now he’ll kill us for sure!”

Van swooped down to grab the front of Georgie’s wet shirt, then slung him ashore. He did the same to Charley and Willy. “You’re damn lucky I’m letting you live,” he said harshly. “You wouldn’t be so lucky if I had turned my wife loose on you. She wanted to shoot all of you and be done with it.”

Leaving the Harpers facedown in the mud, their hands tied behind their backs and their hamstrings half-sliced so they couldn’t run from the law ever again, Van hiked off to the cave where he had spent so many hours as a child. He saw the Rangers hiding in one of the ravines and motioned for them to tend to the prisoners.

When he stepped into the cavern, he noticed the empty whiskey bottles Natalie had mentioned. He also saw the frayed rope. He suspected Natalie had spent a sleepless night trying to cut herself loose and he well remembered seeing the nicks and cuts on her hands—from the sharp dagger, no doubt. Wisely, she had taken the precaution of swiping as many weapons as she could before she made her escape from the cavern.

Van shook his head and smiled. Natalie Blair was nothing if not astonishing and resourceful. “You missed your calling, sunshine,” he murmured to the image floating above him in the darkness. “You should have been born Kiowa.”

He crouched down to crawl into the tunnel that was only passable if a man moved on his hands and knees. He found the canvas pouches and tossed them back in the direction he’d come. Then he paused at the seeming dead end and glanced up. The escape route from the cave to the cliff above him zigzagged like a waterless river through the limestone.

Van smiled ruefully, remembering the times he and his friends had pulled themselves up by grabbing handholds in the stone to climb into the small chamber leading to a sinkhole. His smile faded, for it was in the chamber where his mother had sent him after she had been seriously wounded the day of the massacre. She had handed him the headband made from the beads his father, Mitch Donovan, had given her so many years before he vanished from their lives as if he had never been there at all.

After the massacre, Van had cut his hair and changed his style of clothing to become white. It was here that the memories of his past converged with potent intensity.

It was here, too, that Natalie could have died.

The thought struck like an arrow to the heart. The loss of his family and friends had devastated him, filled him with bitterness and resentment. If that vibrant, obsidian-eyed firebrand had died today Van wasn’t sure he could have dealt with the tormenting loss.

Funny, he mused as he crawled from the tunnel. He had aptly nicknamed her. She had come to be the very sunshine in his world. If she weren’t out there somewhere, he’d be stumbling around in the dark.

“Crow? Are you coming down?” Bristow called out.

Van scooped up the recovered money and walked onto the ledge. The Rangers had tied the Harper brothers to their bareback horses—backward—and secured their feet beneath the horses’ bellies. Van smiled when the Rangers tipped their hats respectfully to him.

Rangers or not, he was beginning to like Montgomery, Bristow and Phelps, in spite of his earlier vow to hold the ragtag group of frontier officers in contempt for the sins of their predecessors.

Van tossed the moneybags over the ledge so each Ranger could catch a pouch in midair. “The reward for the Harpers’ capture and the return of the money is yours. I have my wife back and that is payment aplenty. Oh, and don’t forget to credit the Harpers for the stagecoach robbery and horse thefts. Wouldn’t want to shortchange them.”

Monty tipped his head back to peer up at him. “You coming with us, chief?”

“I’ll be along later.”

Van stared over the spectacular canyon that was once a Comanche and Kiowa stomping ground. It was time to make peace with the demons that haunted him, he mused as he watched the Rangers lead the bandits away. Van would always be Kiowa at heart, but the old days and the old ways were forever beyond his grasp. He recalled what Natalie had said about being alone in the world and leaving her past behind to chase her dreams of adventures.

He sank down cross-legged on the cliff and inhaled a restorative breath. From his bird’s-eye view, he stared over the chasm, as if looking through the window of time. He could visualize the peaceful village of teepees, grazing cattle and herd of horses that he and his friends took pride in training.

He realized he had never really come to terms with his grief, just stowed it away and carried it with him for more than a decade. He had joined the white’s world and had taken from it to compensate for the loss of tribal lands and sacred ground. The money from his assignments didn’t lessen the blow to Kiowa pride or self-respect, but he had symbolically regained what his clan had lost—one assignment at a time.

Van said goodbye to his tormented past and tucked away the good memories in his heart. He mourned the clan he had loved. It struck him suddenly that all the bandits he had brought to justice weren’t the only ones locked away. He had been a prisoner of his past and he had built confining walls around himself because of his anger and resentment.

He smiled faintly, knowing that he had learned much about himself through Natalie. The mentor had become the student. The time had come for him to look forward, not backward.

It had required great courage for Natalie to strike off into the unknown and the unfamiliar to create a life that made her happy.

“And I hope you do find happiness, sunshine,” he murmured as he lifted up his face and arms to the Great Spirit that watched over the Earth, the seas and the endless blue sky. “I will remember you always….”