Savage Thunder

Chapter Twenty-seven

Every instinct had warned Colt to stay away from camp that night. Already acquainted with the duch-ess's stubborn streak, he had little doubt that, having decided on a confrontation, she wouldn't be satisfied until she had it. But he wasn't ready, not by a long shot. The conclusions he had drawn about her might have enraged him enough to send him out looking for trouble, but to have those conclusions confirmed was going to be ten times worse. And if mere suspicions could ride him this hard, what would the truth do to him?

Of course, if he was wrong about her, that would be an entirely different problem, in some ways an even bigger one. It was what had made him take what she offered, despite the feet that he'd sworn never to touch a white woman again. And it would happen again — if he was wrong about her. If it did, he was afraid that he could very easily end up wanting to make her his permanently, when he knew damn well that wasn't possible.

Either way, it was better not to know the truth just yet, at least not until he was certain he could control his reaction to it. Yet knowing that, and also that the redhead would push it as she always did, he still rode into camp that night.

And that was her fault too, for allowing a stranger into their midst at this particular time, when Colt hap-pened to be so pissed off he hadn't been paying attention to any newcomers arriving in town after they had. Even with the precautions he had taken, it wasn't inconceivable that her enemy could have caught up to them in the two days they had wasted in Silver City. With the way danger followed that woman around like a homeless pup, the stranger could, in fact, be one of the Englishman's men. Even if it wasn't at all likely, the merest chance was enough to cause Colt worry. For all his protestations that he wasn't going to pro-tect her, he couldn't bear it if something happened and he wasn't there to prevent it because he was afraid tp have a confrontation with the woman.

But when the confrontation came, it came from an unexpected quarter.

As late as it was when Colt rode in, more than half the camp was still up, and it was just his luck that the duchess was one of them. He could feel her eyes fol-low him as he made his way to Billy's campfire after bedding his horse down with the others. She sat before another fire with a group of her men, her maid—

and the stranger.

Billy, who had left that group when he noticed Colt by the horses, handed him the tin plate of food he regularly kept wanned near the fire. Colt had stopped complaining that it was always the fare served up by the duchess's cook. Half the time he was too tired to know what he was eating.

"Didn't think you were going to bed down with us tonight."

With a glance at all the other fires still occupied, Colt replied. "Doesn't look like anyone's got a han-kering for sleep."

Billy shrugged. "The new fellow was spinning some pretty gruesome tales. He probably spooked some of them." Remembering those stories, and that Colt wouldn't find them entertaining, Billy quickly added, "Did you see the blonde this morning? She's his sister."

Colt ignored the question, his eyes stopping on the stranger. The duchess sat next to him, too close to him.

"Who is that guy anyway?"

"Name's Dryden, Miles Dryden."

Colt's brow knitted in thought. "He remind you of anyone, kid?"

"Can't say that he does. Why?"

"Seems like IVe seen him before somewhere."

"Maybe when you went east with Jessie and Chase? He claims to be from there."

Colt shook his head slowly. "No, I've seen him more recent than that. You sure you don't recognize him?"

"Are you sure you do?"

Colt stared hard at the man once more before glancing away. "Yes. It'll come to me in a while." And then, looking pointedly at Billy, "What tales was he telling?"

Billy flushed with the question, having thought he'd neatly avoided it. "Just stories."

"Give," was all Colt said.

"He's an Easterner, Colt," Billy said defensively.

"You know how a little Indian attack wouldn't faze a Westerner, but a greenhorn will make it into a big deal every time."

"He was attacked?"

"Him and his sister."

"It took all night to tell it?"

Billy grinned, now that it looked like Colt hadn't taken offense at the subject as he thought he would.

"You know how it is. A fellow comes into town and mentions he nearly got scalped, and every other person who's had a similar experience or even heard of one has got to tell him all about it. Dryden heard enough tales to fill a book while he was in Silver City."

"Then he was there before we arrived?"

"Several months. Why?"

"Just wondered."

Colt's mind was put to rest on one score. Dryden wasn't working for Longnose. It still didn't mean he liked the idea of the duchess inviting strangers to join her party. She ought to know better.

Several bites of food later, Colt asked, "What the hell is this stuff I'm eating?"

Billy chuckled. "One of Philippe's specialties. Good, ain't it?"

"You can't taste the meat for the sauce." Colt tossed the plate aside in disgust. "And what's his problem?"

Billy turned to see who had drawn Colt's attention now. Parker Grahame was staring right back, and none too amiably.

"He — ah — you could say he's been a mite put out since that night you took care of those two would-be thieves who tried to rob the duchess."

"Was I supposed to let them rob her?"

Billy grinned. "I think he objects to you being the one to rescue her, when that's his job. You have been making a habit of it, after all, which doesn't reflect too well on him."

"And that's enough to get him killed?"

Billy tensed. "What are you talking about?"

"The man's making up his mind to come over here, and not to pass the time."

"Christ! Well, don't kill him, for God's sake! He's more or less spokesman for all of them, being their captain, and they're kind of fed up with the disrespect you keep showing their lady. / know you do it on purpose, but she doesn't, and they don't either. I think this morning was just one time too many for nothing to be said about it."

"Exactly right, Mr. Ewing," Parker said from behind him.

Billy didn't turn to look at the Englishman again. He stared at Colt, dreading his reaction. Considering that he'd been in a foul disposition ever since they'd joined up with the duchess, he couldn't hope for now to be any different. And you just didn't push Colt when he was in such a mood.

Colt leaned back against his saddle in a negligent manner, not at all concerned that the man was stand-ing there bristling. "You got something to say, Gra-hame, spit it out."

"Your brother has already said it. If you can't behave with a modicum of civility—"

"You'll do what?" Colt cut in with a near sneer. "Call me out?"

"Dammit, Colt!" Billy put in, but too late.

Parker was already stepping around him to get to Colt, so enraged he didn't stop to think, simply hauled Colt to his feet by the front of his shirt. That Colt let him do it, and did nothing to block the fist that was drawn back to clobber him, didn't seem peculiar to Parker because he still wasn't thinking, merely react-ing. But years of breeding broke through at the last moment to make him hesitate, if only for a second.

Unfortunately for Parker, in that second their gazes locked and his confidence was nearly shattered. He had the horrible feeling he was looking death in the eye. He'd never backed down from a fight in his life, never had to, never lost one. But he had somehow forgotten just whom he was dealing with here, that the man was in a class all by himself, a man damned close to the savages whom Dryden had been telling them tales of all evening, a man who would know ways of killing that Grahame had never even dreamed of. And he had challenged him?

"Sir Parker, release him at once!"

The voice of authority, reason, and his salvation. Parker obeyed with great relief.

Colt's reaction was just the opposite. "Shit!" He glared at the duchess, standing not far from them. "The man has a genuine grievance to pick with me. Who in the hell asked you to interfere, woman?"

Even if she wasn't rendered momentarily speech-less by his verbal attack, Jocelyn had no chance to answer. The scales were tipped for Parker, who saw red again with this latest insolence and let his fist fly.

The blow caught Colt on the side of his face but only slightly turned his head. That it had come when he wasn't looking, however, had everyone who was watching holding his breath, waiting for Colt's reac-tion.

Parker in particular felt rather sick, never having taken a man unawares before. So he was most sur-prised when Colt turned back to him, slowly, and grinning.

"It took you long enough, English," he said just before his backhanded blow knocked Parker to the ground.

Billy caught Colt's gun and knife, both tossed to him, then simply got out of the way. Jocelyn had to step back also when one charge took both men crash-ing through the fire, scattering sparks everywhere.

"Come away, my dear," Vanessa said quietly at her side. "You can't stop it now, and shouldn't want to."

"Shouldn't want to? But they're—"

"Behaving atrociously, I know, but your Thunder obviously needs to inflict violence on someone. Better Sir Parker than you. Now come away."

Jocelyn bit her lip, remembering Colt's hostility that morning, watching his savagery now. Despite what Vanessa said, she didn't think he would hurt her, no matter how angry he got. And she was still angry herself. She was not some vaporous ninny to hide from a man's displeasure.

"I'm staying, Vana," she said determinedly. "I won't try to stop them, but when they're finished I'll have my say."