The Crow and the Coyote (The Crow Series Book 1) Read online

  THE CROW AND THE COYOTE

  The Crow Series: Book One

  Kristy McCaffrey

  The Crow and The Coyote by Kristy McCaffrey

  Copyright© 2014 Kristy McCaffrey

  Cover Design Livia Reasoner

  Prairie Rose Publications

  www.prairierosepublications.com

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Among the red-rock canyons of the Navajo, Bounty Hunter Jack Boggs aids Hannah Dobbin in a quest to save her pa's soul.

  Chapter One

  Cañon de Chelly

  Arizona Territory

  October 1877

  Jack Boggs came upon the camp in the blackness of night. A form lay near a smoldering fire. A quick perusal told him it was female. Disappointed, he rested his gun against his thigh from where he crouched.

  He'd followed these tracks all day, but instead of leading him to Ignacio Lopez, they ended here. He had no interest in befriending anyone, but perhaps the woman might have seen Lopez in the area.

  The end of a barrel jammed hard between his shoulder blades. "Do not move."

  Shocked by the sound of a gravelly, Indian-inflected voice, he couldn't believe a woman had crept up on him.

  He let the Colt slide to the ground before him, then slowly raised his arms.

  "Stand, and move away from that gun," she said.

  Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the second one still holstered. He stood. The metal dug into his back again—from the feel of it, likely a double-barreled shotgun—prompting him forward. He stepped over his weapon, and heard the Indian woman retrieve it.

  "Hannah, wake up," the woman said as they approached.

  Jack chanced a glance over his shoulder. A short, elderly Navajo woman eyed him with suspicion.

  The female on the ground stirred, then sprang to her feet.

  With a gasp, her hand came to her chest. "Oh, my word, Sani."

  Forced closer by the persistent Sani, he could see Hannah's disheveled dark hair framed a youthful complexion.

  "I told you we were followed," the old woman said.

  Hannah's gaze shifted to him. "Who are you, sir?"

  "The name's Jack. I'm in pursuit of bounty." He ceased inching forward, and the shotgun dug into his back once again.

  "What bounty would that be?"

  "A bandito by the name of Ignacio Lopez. I mean no harm to you and soft shoes back there." He nodded over his shoulder.

  Hannah considered him, then agreed. "Sani, put the gun down."

  To Jack's surprise, the Indian woman acquiesced. Carefully, he lowered his arms. "Would either of you by chance know anything about Lopez?"

  Sani came to stand beside Hannah, gripping the shotgun in one hand and his weapon in the other. Even in the dark, he sensed her brittle glare.

  "We might," Hannah answered. "Would you care to join us at our fire?" She scanned behind her. "At what is left of our fire?" she amended.

  He gave a curt nod. “Might I trouble you for the return of my gun?”

  Hannah motioned for Sani to give it back, which the old woman did, her features schooled in a skeptical frown.

  He wasted no time holstering the weapon, hoping to gain their trust.

  They all settled around the barely-glowing embers.

  Hannah stoked the fire, re-igniting a small blaze, then spoke in soft undertones to Sani. Jack caught snippets of Spanish mixed with a dialect he assumed to be Navajo. He knew only a smattering, the Navajo language far more complex than any he'd encountered in the past few years of hunting bounties in Texas and the territories.

  Hannah turned her gaze upon him, now viewing him as sternly as old Sani. After a moment of contemplation, she murmured again to the Navajo woman.

  "It's rude to talk behind someone's back," he said, removing his hat and running fingers through shoulder-length hair.

  "I agree," Hannah replied. "Are you called Crow?"

  Even in the darkness, his jet-black hair was hard to miss. That had to account for why she guessed the moniker frequently attributed to him.

  "Yeah," he replied.

  Hannah took a deep breath. "Well, then, Sani and I would ask for your assistance—in exchange, of course—for our help in locating Señor Lopez."

  "You know his whereabouts?"

  She nodded, but then amended, "Well, maybe not his location precisely, but we've some idea who he might be with."

  "And who's that?"

  She regarded him in silence. For such a young and pretty thing, she was turning out to be a shrewd negotiator. "Do we have a deal?"

  "I've no idea what you're asking me to do."

  "You tell him," Sani said.

  "We're after a Navajo called Hastin Yazhe." Hannah spoke quietly. "He has something I want returned, a silver cross that belonged to my pa. If the man you trail is in these canyons, Yazhe will get him—if not now, then eventually."

  Pinpricks pierced the back of Jack’s neck, bringing his attention fully to the young woman across from him.

  "Who is this Yazhe?" he asked.

  "A sorcerer. A demon. Depends on your religious leanings, I suppose. I believe him to practice evil."

  "Why would you come after him alone? Are there no men aiding you? Where are your husbands?"

  "I've no husband," Hannah replied, "and Sani has long been without her love. I wouldn't pursue this man if it wasn't of utmost importance."

  "And why is that?"

  "He murdered my pa and left his spirit in limbo. When I get that cross back, I'll be able to undo the dark works that have imprisoned my pa's soul. I'll be able to set him free."

  A foreboding of apprehension caught Jack by surprise, sending a shiver down his spine. He knew something of spirits and superstitions, but he also knew that men begat violence for no other reason than that they could.

  He also knew that the two women before him, while spouting paranoia, were entirely lucid—and deadly serious.

  That concerned him most of all.

  ****

  Hannah awoke before dawn from her pallet by the tiny fire she and Sani had allowed themselves. For the first time since her pa died some three weeks ago, her dreams had been calm. She turned on her side and watched the man called Crow, slumbering several feet away beside a horse he'd retrieved the previous night. The presence of both had kept the spooks at bay, and a feeling of safety washed over her.

  She wondered if trusting the man was wise, but Sani grudgingly accepted him. Truthfully, they could use his help. None of the Navajo men would accompany them—they insisted on distancing themselves from the actions of two women not in their right minds.

  Hannah knew the beliefs of the Navajo—that stirring up spirits would not end well—but she had no choice, not if she wanted to help her pa. She knew, however, that if she and Sani weren't careful, they could both end up dead.

  Mr. Crow consumed a large space in this world with his obvious physical presence, and a look in his dark eyes that was both remote and calculating. She sensed he walked a fine line between justice and violence. It didn't frighten her, but she did wonder if she could trust him.

  He awoke, stood, and immediately checked his horse. Then, he looked directly at her.

  "Mornin'," he said.

  Hannah pushed to a sitting position and nodded. Sani snored softly besi
de her.

  Mr. Crow produced a bag of grain and fed his animal.

  "Did you walk?" he asked.

  "No. Our animals are up that way." She indicated the direction with a nod.

  "You're on the trail of an evil Navajo, as well as likely following Lopez—just as evil, I might add—and yet you let your animals run free and you had a fire last night." He shook his head, his black hair brushing the edge of his shirt. "You're not doing a good job of hiding yourself."

  Hannah stood and moved toward him, so as to not disturb Sani with their voices. "We're not close to those we follow."

  He stepped back from his horse and scanned their surroundings, then planted hands on hips and fixed her again with that penetrating gaze. "How do you know?"

  Hannah watched him, liking the way his eyes slanted slightly down, and the stubble that covered his face, tanned from the sun. His hair was so black—like an Indian—but he didn't have the look of the Navajo, or the Hopi, or any of the peoples in the area she and her pa had visited.

  "Sani has visions," she replied.

  His mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile. "Naturally."

  "So, your name is Jack Crow?"

  "No. It's Jack Boggs. I've been called Crow from time to time."

  "Are you Indian?"

  He ignored her question. "How did you come to be here, Hannah..." He gave her a questioning look.

  "Dobbin. I told you, I'm chasing Hastin Yazhe."

  "No. How did you come to be in the territory?"

  "Oh." She glanced at Sani, likely the only friend she had at the moment. "I came with my pa, Dr. Walter Dobbin, three years ago from Ohio."

  "He was a doctor?"

  "No, not like that. He had a Doctorate in Anthropology. We came to study the Indians in the area. It's called ethnography. For the last year, we traveled among the Navajo, recording their culture, their customs, their language...just about everything. He planned to write a book about it."

  "Why was he killed?"

  "While the Navajo are generally a peaceful people, not all were happy about our work, viewing it as an intrusion. Yazhe was a dissenter, among other things. When he killed my pa, he took the cross. I want it, and I mean to get it back."

  "How do you know he has it?"

  Hannah glanced down at the toe of her boot, scuffed and dirty. "A dream." She lifted her eyes to his, silently challenging him to laugh in her face, or shake his head and walk away.

  Instead, he watched her.

  Hannah's pulse quickened. There'd been men—both white and Indian—that had displayed interest in her. Every single one paled in comparison to Jack Boggs.

  The barest hint of a smile once again graced his mouth, briefly distracting Hannah.

  "You're not the type to explain yourself, are you?" he asked.

  "Would you believe me if I did?"

  "Trailing these men isn't safe. What you ought to do is head home. If Lopez is with Yazhe, then I'll do my best to retrieve your cross."

  "No. But I do appreciate the offer."

  Sani began to stir. Hannah turned from Mr. Boggs and headed toward where she thought the horse and mule had gone off to.

  ****

  Jack checked his saddle, but it was just a cover so he could watch Hannah Dobbin walk away. She had the damnedest eyes, a gray-green that reminded him of the sagebrush that grew in the endless red desert in this area. She was direct in a way that most women weren't, and it cast a spell on him.

  Did she speak the truth? Was she really after a family memento? Or, maybe she was a decoy, tied to Lopez in some way. Even, perhaps, his woman.

  The thought angered him when it shouldn't have. When did he care about the women Lopez bedded?

  "She is good." Sani's voice startled him, as did her sudden proximity. That was the second time she'd sneaked up on him.

  "Pardon?"

  Sani brought her gnarled hand to his, grasping tightly. His appeared that much larger, entwined with her smaller one.

  "I hope you're not making a play for me old lady," he said. "I'm afraid you're not my type."

  She glanced at the direction Hannah had recently trod. "She is."

  "I never thought I'd find nosy biddies this far west."

  Sani narrowed her eyes at him. "Hannah cannot live with the Diné forever. Her padre is gone. When this is done, you shall take her."

  The elderly woman released his hand, and returned to the gear piled near the ashes of the campfire.

  Jack felt the finality of her words as if it were a prophecy.

  Chapter Two

  Jack soon realized that the horse and the mule the two women utilized were old and slow. Hannah walked—her steps kicking red dust that coated her brown skirt—while Sani rode the gray-brown gelding, and the mule carried their gear.

  Jack brought his mount to Hannah and reached for the reins she held.

  "Climb up," he said.

  She inclined her head back and squinted up at him. "I can walk."

  "At this pace, we'd be lucky to catch a turtle."

  He extended his arm. She grasped it, and he hauled her behind him. He liked the feel of strength in her grip. She was no will-o'-the-wisp. Taking the reins of Sani's horse, he used his mount to increase the pace.

  By mid-afternoon, they came to the remains of a settlement.

  "No." Hannah's voice broke, and she slid from his horse and hit the ground running.

  He pulled one of his Colt revolvers, dismounted, and performed a swift inspection of the area.

  Hannah rushed to the bodies of two Navajo, a man and a woman, lying in a heap beside a collapsed hogan. She frantically inspected them for signs of life. Shaking her head back and forth, she stifled a sob, then turned and ran to a child's body several feet away.

  Jack continued to keep a keen eye on the surroundings, in the event the perpetrator remained in the vicinity. He noticed that Sani had dismounted, but didn't approach the dead bodies.

  Hannah stood and swung around. "Why Sani? Why would he do this?" Anguish held her body rigid.

  The Navajo woman didn't speak.

  "Who?" Jack asked.

  "Hastin." Hannah all but spit the word from her mouth.

  "Why would a Navajo kill other Navajo?" he asked.

  "We must not handle the bodies," Sani said, her voice wooden and flat.

  "Bullshit!" Hannah screamed. "I will not tiptoe around while Hastin commits these awful crimes. And I surely won't abandon them—" Her voice caught, and she faltered. "Because of your belief that they will haunt us." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "We must bury them," she whispered. Her gaze shifted to him. "We mustn't leave them to the vultures."

  Unnerved by her outburst, Jack holstered his weapon and went to her. He wanted to offer comfort, but restrained himself from touching her. They hardly knew one another and it was improper, but the truth was, he didn’t want to risk her spurning him. Something in him didn't want Hannah to shy away before he had a chance to know her better.

  "We'll do our best for these people," he said. "If it's any consolation, this may not have been done by Hastin. This has all the markings of Lopez." The gunshot to the child's head...

  Her sage-green eyes met his. "Then we both pursue men who violate the natural order of life."

  Jack silently agreed.

  ****

  Exhausted, Hannah nevertheless worked to prepare a meal for Mr. Boggs now that nightfall was upon them. He'd helped her all afternoon in burying the bodies of the Navajo they found, and she was immensely grateful. Sani had disappeared, as was her way. Hannah loved the old woman, but there were times when she tested the limits of that affection.

  Mr. Boggs appeared and sat beside her.

  "Where's Sani?" he asked.

  "She'll return, in time," Hannah replied. "To be around the dead fills the Navajo with great paranoia. I fear that if I die, she'd leave me to the birds and beetles."

  "Not if I have anything to say. I'll take care of you, Hannah."

  After such a maca
bre day, with grief pressing heavy on her, she was struck by the humor in his statement. "I've never had a man make an offer to watch over my corpse, Mr. Boggs."

  "Then, I'm happy to be the first. And you should call me Jack."

  She glanced at him. "I think I'll call you Crow. It suits you."

  "Then it's Mister Crow to you."

  She made a noncommittal sound. "You must be hungry. I have boiled corn and squash, and flour cakes. And coffee."

  She handed a plate filled with food to him, and a tin cup with the hot liquid.

  "My thanks," he said.

  "I owe you for today."

  "Did you know them?" he asked around mouthfuls of food.

  "Not well, but my pa had spent some time in this area, visiting with the people. Their names were Naalnish and Shadi, and the child was Mosi." Such a terrible thing, adding additional weight to the loss of her pa.

  She shifted to gain a better view of the man beside her, sipping at her coffee. "Where are you from, Mister Crow?"

  "I hail from Missouri, but these days, I like the territories."

  "Have you been a bounty hunter for long?"

  "I spent some time as a Texas Ranger. Now, I follow leads I hear about through the grapevine."

  "A Ranger grapevine?"

  "Something like that." He set his empty plate aside.

  "If you catch men like this Lopez you've described," she said, "then you do an important job."

  "I hope so. Can't abide what some men think they can get away with."

  "My pa believed in the good of others." Her eyes met Jack's. "But I know that, in some, there is no good. I expect you know that, too."

  "Yeah, Hannah, I do."

  The sound of her name sounded familiar and intimate, sending a shiver down her spine.

  Where had he come from, this man who appeared in the dark?

  "Are you a ghost?" she asked.

  His intriguing mouth cracked a partial smile. "This place does make you wonder, doesn't it?" His attention shifted to above her shoulder. "Don't move."

  She sensed the animal behind her, although she wondered more about the man before her. Mysterious and compelling, was he any different from the criaturas that inhabited the wild places?