Henry, the telegraph operator, handed Nitika a telegram as she and Hunter were about to return home. It had been three weeks since either one had been out to the ranch and they were anxious to see it. Hunter settled back in the seat and took his daughter from Nitika's arms so she could climb aboard.
“Who’s the telegram from,” he asked as the small bundle squirmed in his embrace.
“It’s from Allan,” she said a frown creasing her brow.
“Don't tell me he wants you to work. Because if he does, I'll personally go up there and give him the beating of-.”
“It's not that at all,” Nitika said stopping his tirade. "He congratulates us on Tehya's birth. But he also says to expect a drunken friend too. I wonder who he means.”
“How many Pinkerton detectives do you know that he would call your friend?”
“Two, and I don't see Devon getting drunk enough to still be drunk when he gets here.”
Hunter handed the baby back to his wife. “So Raven's drunk. Why would he warn you about that? He's gotten roaring drunk here before and never caused problems.”
“Something must have happened and Raven wants to hide out at our place.”
“You don't think that something bad happened to Devon do you?”
Nitika shuttered. “I was trying not to think of that. But that's the only thing that might push Raven over the edge. He and Devon have been partners for a long time.”
“Well, there's no use worrying about it until Raven gets here.”
Nitika was heading out to the barn when she saw a rider top the hill two days later. The way he was swaying in the saddle, she knew he was drunk. As he got closer, she saw it wasn't Raven's big black. Instead it was Devon's bay, with Devon barely hanging onto his seat. Now anxious, Nitika had to resist the urge to run out to him. He would get to her soon enough.
The only reason she could think of for Devon's drunkenness was that Raven was dead. Tears threatened to fall as she thought of the times she was his partner. She thought of how hard it was to resist him. Every time he touched her, whether it was incidental or planned, she just melted into him. But being the professional that she was, she never let it show how she truly felt about him.
Hunter came out of the forge and walked toward her. Nitika watched her husband's approach. The feelings for Raven disappeared and were replaced with ones that were much stronger. Ones that had made her fight as hard as she did to bring him home from Savannah. No, her love for Raven never went that deep.
Nitika's stare was unnerving as Hunter came up to her. By now, he could see the rider was Devon. He knew Nitika had been thinking about Raven. But the look on her face said she wasn't thinking about the detective anymore. What he saw at the moment was the same intense hunger he felt for her. It was a passion he had never seen Nitika show so openly before. Hunter grinned inwardly. Raven never had a chance against him when it came to winning this woman's love.
Devon had entered the yard and was angling over to them. Hunter felt Nitika stiffen in his embrace as she steeled herself for the worse. The detective gave her a lopsided grin as he all but fell from his horse. Caesar shied and sidestepped his master at the awkward dismount. He obviously wasn't used to Devon drinking either.
From his saddlebag, Devon pulled out a half full bottle of whiskey. “Howdy Nitika, Hunter.”
“Devon,” Nitika said coolly watching him upend the bottle and guzzle half the contents. “What brings you out here?”
“Now, is that any way to greet an old friend,” he asked in a voice badly slurred.
Nitika snatched the bottle from his hand as he went to take another drink. She smashed it on the ground at his feet. Devon dumbly looked down at his boots and the mud now splashed on them. He staggered around to the other side of his horse.
“I got another anyhow,” he declared opening the flap on his other saddlebag.
Nitika managed to beat him to the bottle. “I will not allow you to drink another drop while you are on my property, friend or no friend.”
“Have a heart, Darling,” Devon pleaded. “It’s the only way I can forget what's happened.”
“It’s about Raven isn't it,” she asked pouring out the whiskey. “He's dead.”