Savage Thunder

Chapter Thirty-four

“I hope you know I aged ten years."

"I likely picked up a few myself," Jocelyn told the countess as she sank deeper into the little tub that had been brought to the room they shared.

"If only I-"

"Oh, Vana, please, please stop blaming yourself! No one could have known what a truly despicable man he was beneath all that charm. Colt didn't know what he was capable of, and he knew Dryden was no good."

"Well, I'm glad that nice Angel chap dispatched him, I truly am. He deserved no less."

"Nice? Angel?" Jocelyn choked. "That man—"

"Saved you, dear."

"At the expense of my peace of mind!"

The countess clicked her tongue. "Don't quibble means. It's the end result that counts."

"Colt was there," Jocelyn reminded her sullenly. "He wouldn't have let anyone touch me."

"But his friend didn't know that. His friend risked his life to get you out of there against great odds."

"His friend took me there to begin with!" Jocelyn retorted, having heard quite enough. "And, I might add, his friend never said he was his friend. Now, not another word about that wretched man. Colt had the right idea. He should have beat the crap out of him."

Vanessa's brows shot up, not only at Jocelyn's show of temper, but that word. "Crap?"

"I believe it means Angel wouldn't have walked away from the fight. You know, guts spilled and all that."

Vanessa's frown came quickly with the assumption that Jocelyn was merely being sarcastic. "That isn't funny, dear."

"I wasn't joking."

"Oh… well.. "

Jocelyn waited, but that last had definitely silenced Vanessa. She went back to working her sampler with short, jabbing stitches that would likely have to be redone later. Jocelyn relaxed into the little tub as well as she could and closed her eyes. It was the first chance she'd actually had to relax since Longnose had gotten lucky — well, almost lucky.

She didn't like remembering how close it had been this time, nor did she like having an image to bring to mind of that horrid man. But she had to allow Angel had been right in one respect. No matter how much it disturbed her to remember the Englishman's face, it was to her benefit that she could.

She had come upon her men that night shortly after the race to outdistance Colt had begun, but then she had almost expected that, since she realized with some surprise after she started that she was on the main road. Angel had been taking her back to her people all along. Colt had been right behind her, and although she had anticipated he would be furious enough to cause a scene, he had merely said to her, "Someone ought to do something about that temper of yours."

It was later that she learned Colt had been the only one to hear the shot that killed Dryden, which was why he'd been able to find her so quickly. Her men had gone out to search for her when she didn't return at the usual time, but they'd been forced to follow her trail into the hills first, and Angel was right again, there were no trackers among them.

Maura Dryden, or whatever her name really was, had disappeared by the time they got back to the wag-ons. Vanessa had assumed she had stolen a horse and left while it was still daylight, but she couldn't be sure. She and the other women had been too upset to take note. But it was concluded that Maura had likely panicked when Miles didn't return to report Jocelyn's supposed "accident" as he had planned to do. She must have assumed either that he had run out on her or that something had gone wrong. In either case, she'd been wise not to stay to find out.

Jocelyn wouldn't be surprised if she was hiding somewhere in Santa Fe, or perhaps back in that town they had avoided. She didn't think the woman would leave the area until she had learned what had befallen her lover. She didn't particularly care what became of Maura, as long as she never had to meet up with her again.

They had ridden straight for Santa Fe at Colt's sug-gestion, with only short stops long enough to rest the horses. It had not been pleasant sleeping in the coaches, but they had cut the time in half to reach the old town, leaving the Englishman likely still looking for her and Angel in the mountains. The rush hadn't really been necessary. He wouldn't attack with his small number. But it gave them the opportunity to lose him again. They could leave the trail now, take the railroad, or even let him pass them by.

But no decisions had been made yet. Jocelyn was hoping to discuss the matter with Colt, but the latest run-in with Longnose hadn't changed his habits. She hadn't seen him since it happened.

"You know, I suppose I must admit our guide did acquit himself rather well during that unpleasant-ness."

Jocelyn's eyes popped open. Good Lord, had Vanessa been milling that over all this time? If she had, then she had probably come to some sort of conclu-sion that Jocelyn was certain not to like.

"I thought so," Jocelyn agreed hesitantly — at least up until he got angry with her again for no apparent reason, she added to herself.

"I'm rather impressed with the way he went after you," Vanessa continued, "without wasting valuable time in coming for help, without knowing what he would be facing when he found you."

"He knew that Angel would be there."

"Actually, he didn't, if you'll recall. When he went back to Benson that night we camped so near it, and encountered his friend there, he only requested he make himself available to the Englishman if the op-portunity arose. He had no way of knowing if Angel had succeeded in joining the brigands, or how many other men Longnose might have acquired between then and now."

Vanessa — defending Colt? Jocelyn really didn't want to know what this was leading up to. And yet for some reason she was pleased to hear Colt being praised, especially by her friend.

"Yes, well, he has never struck me as a man who might worry over odds." And then a twinkle appeared in Jocelyn's eyes. "Do yoit suppose it might have something to do with his heritage? After all, a good many of those stories we heard about Indians were of small numbers attacking large groups of set-tlers." Jocelyn had to force back the grin pulling at her lips on seeing Vanessa's quick frown over her observation.

"I believe it is nothing more than courage," Vanessa insisted.

Better and better. Colt was going to become marriage material if the countess kept this up. If he had a sixth sense, he ought to be on his way out of the territory by now.

"I wonder what's keeping Babette with that extra water?"

"Don't change the subject," Vanessa admonished.

"I wasn't. I never doubted Colt's courage, Vana. His sanity, maybe, but never his courage."

"Then why don't you ask Colt to go after Longnose?"

So there it was finally. Jocelyn had known she wouldn't like it. After their fight that night she had behaved so wretchedly she could never ask Colt for another thing, certainly not to risk his life for her more than he already had.

"So it's 'Colt' now that you've found some use for him?"

Vanessa had the grace to look embarrassed. "I never said he wasn't useful, my dear, only that your particular use for him was ended."

"I don't like that word 'use.' He hates it."

"What?"

"He's been used quite enough, Vana."

"But this is different."

"I doubt he'd feel it is. Besides, the day I met him I asked if I could hire him to find Longnose and bring him in. He refused."

"That was before he took an intimate interest in you," Vanessa pointed out.

Heat stole into Jocelyn's cheeks, chasing away the chill from the cooling water. "I would never use our intimacy as leverage against him!"

"I wasn't suggesting—"

"Weren't you?"

They were both silent a moment, Jocelyn furiously so, Vanessa contrite.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa finally said. "It's just that I worry a great deal about you. Longnose has never been quite as successful before. The man had bungled his attempts so often, I'm afraid I began to think of him as an incompetent blunderhead, that he didn't present a really serious threat, just a nuisance. That has been proven false, however, since we came to this savage land, a place which seems to bring out the worse traits in its inhabitants."

"Or the best."

"Yes, well… if you don't want to impose on Colt any further, I can certainly understand that. Some men get the absurd notion that if you ask something of them, they can then demand anything they want of you in return, and I don't have to tell you what they most often ask for."

"Yes, I know." Jocelyn nodded sagely. "Dinner."

"No, dear," Vanessa began, but caught the teasing light in those green eyes and knew she was forgiven.

"Dinner indeed. actually, for some men that just might be first choice. Have you noticed how many eating establishments in the West carry the advertisement 'Home-cooked meals'? That seems to be of par-ticular importance in this country."

They were both laughing before the countess had finished, and still laughing when Babette burst in without knocking. Vanessa sobered first, remember-ing the last time the maid had come in like that, and looking like that, her blue eyes wide, her hands aflutter. Not again, she groaned inwardly, but Babette's first words proved this was indeed a repeat perfor-mance on her part.

"Monsieur Thunder, he has been shot!"

Vanessa closed her eyes with a sigh — until she heard the splash. Then she recalled what else had happened the last time and shot out of her chair to barricade the door. And indeed, she got there only a moment before the duchess did.

"You are not— "

"Vana!"

The countess refused to budge. "She said he was shot, not dead. He's not dead, is he, Babette?"

"Non, madame."

"There, you see? There is no need to rush out of here in a state of panic, without clothes. or hadn't you noticed you're stark naked, dear?"

Jocelyn had already turned about to find her robe. Babette was bringing it forward. Vanessa knew it was pointless to suggest she clothe herself a bit more appropriately. Jocelyn barely had the robe drawn to-gether before she was out the door.

Vanessa sighed once more and gave the maid an exasperated look. "Babette, I really must speak to you about this penchant you have developed for melo-dramatics."