Savage Thunder

Chapter Forty

After three years of traveling and seeing the world, Jocelyn finally felt as if she were on holiday.

She was enjoying herself immensely, and feeling like a tourist. Everything she saw was beautiful and worth remem-bering, from the mountains that they moved in and out of to the plains that they used to cover greater distances in less time. The sky was beautiful, so blue, with the sun often shining. The rivers and creeks were sparkling and clear. Even the cold was a delight to be in. She could find no fault with anything, except maybe how quickly the time was passing.

They'd been traveling through Colorado for four days now, having crossed the mountains through the narrow Raton Pass, the scene of a near war between the railroads only a few years back, when the Denver & Rio Grande and the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railroads had both raced to claim the route for their lines, the Santa Fe having won, surprisingly without bloodshed.

Traveling near the railroads gave Jocelyn a feeling of being back in civilization, but then Colorado had drawn thousands of prospectors and settlers to its wilderness ever since gold was discovered there in 1858. It was fairly well settled by now and had even earned statehood in 1876. If she didn’t see very much of the settled parts, it was only because Colt tended to make a wide berth around farms, ranches, and towns.

That changed today, however. Sitting on the flat plain with the massive Rocky Mountains, topped by Pikes Peak, looking like an impregnable solid wall behind it was the small town of Colorado Springs, which they approached around noon. Colt said they might go on by train from here, and with visions of making love in a comfortable bed in a luxurious Pull-man sleeper car, the countryside speeding by outside the window, Jocelyn didn't object. He had intended to catch the train in Denver anyway for the last leg of the journey, and Denver was only two days north at the speed they had been traveling.

Colt paused before they entered the town, however, and Jocelyn was forced to wait while he braided his hair. That morning he had also removed the heavy coat he had been using on the frigid mountain trails, so that he was now wearing only a fringed buckskin shirt with his tight black pants and moccasins.

Jocelyn shook her head at him. "Why do you do that, go out of your way to flaunt your heritage? I know it causes you problems. It's what led to that gunfight in Silver City, isn't it?"

"So?"

"So if you cut your hair, dressed a little differently, you'd look perfectly normal, wouldn't you — except maybe for your handsomeness. There's nothing nor-mal about that."

He grinned at her, surprised that her question didn't annoy him. Perhaps it was the way her eyes were admiring him. It made him feel damned good when she looked at him like that.

"You do things your way, Duchess, and I'll do them mine. Worse things can happen when folks make mistakes about you."

"Worse than gunfights?" she snorted, but didn't wait for an answer. "And if I'm to do things my way, you'll have to give me back my hairpins."

She held out her hand for them, but now he did the head shaking. "When we reach Cheyenne is soon enough for you to go back to being 'Your Royal Grace.' "

She started to frown, until it occurred to her that this was a golden opportunity to do things she couldn't do with the countess or her guard along. "In that case, while we're waiting for the train, I wish to visit a brothel to—"

"Like hell!"

"Just to see what it's like inside, Colt. IVe always wondered—"

"Forget it, and I mean forget it. "

She did frown now, at his implacable expression. "A saloon, then," she said as a compromise. "Surely you can't object to that."

"Can't I?"

Before he flatly refused this too, she said, "Please, Colt. When else will I ever have such an opportunity?

To come to this land and miss viewing one of its cultural phenomena? Once my people rejoin me, I can't be so — bold."

"You willing to wear pants and my coat?"

For a moment, all she heard was that he hadn't said no. "Your pants? You must be joking."

"No one said they had to fit, Duchess."

She grinned suddenly. "You think to change my mind, don't you?"

"Have I?"

"No."

"Then let's hope the train's ready to pull out when we get to the station."

It wasn't. They had about two hours before the northbound train was scheduled to arrive. Jocelyn was pleased about that, but extremely disappointed to be told there were no Pullman sleeping cars available, until she noticed a small private railroad car in the station yard. She was told that it was owned by one of the more prosperous residents of the town, but newly purchased, so not for sale or rent. That of course meant nothing to her, and after thirty minutes spent in locating the man, exchanging messages back and forth, then a small pouch of gold, she had the car for her exclusive use all the way to Cheyenne.

Colt, having stood back and watched the effect her money and manner had on people — she didn't even have to mention her title — could only shake his head. He stowed their gear m the car, then waited in the parlor section while she changed clothes in the small sleeping compartment- It reminded him of her coach with the velvet-upholstered walls and plush lounge chairs, but was much more gaudy with its silk-tasseled curtains, narrow gilt mirrors between each window, thick carpeting on the floor, ceiling in white oak, pan-eled and decorated with vines and flower pieces.

There was a Baker heater, a lavatory complete with sink and tub, a well-stocked bar, and even a piano off in the corner.

Colt looked around the room and wondered what the hell he was doing there. It suited the duchess, but the trappings of wealth were not for him. His one-room cabin in the hills above Jessie's ranch didn't even have a bed in it. Jessie had insisted on stuffing it with some furnishings, but a bed he had refused, preferring to sleep on the floor. And he had actually toyed with the idea of keeping the duchess? He'd been crazy to even think about it.

What he needed now was to get her off his hands for his peace of mind, which was why they were here.

He liked being with her too much, like providing for her, liked her dependence on him. But the danger had been there all along, that this short time with her wouldn't be enough, that he'd end up wanting to keep her permanently. He'd hoped it would be otherwise, but no such luck. He just hadn't thought he'd feel so strongly about it.

Thinking about it brought back all the old bitterness and anger. It didn't matter what he wanted, he couldn't have her. She was white, he wasn't. White women didn't marry breeds unless they wanted to be ostracized by their own kind. She likely hadn't forgotten that, even if he had for a while. She was amusing herself with him, but she'd walk away without a backward glance when the time came. Hadn't she used him to dispose of her virginity so she could marry someone who would suit? Someone who would suit!

"I'm ready."

Christ, even when she looked ridiculous, she looked good to him. "No, you're not. Stuff that hair under your hat."

She did, frowning at his tone. "Is something wrong?"

"Should it be?"

"You don't really want to take me to a saloon, do you?"

"It makes no difference, Duchess. what I want."

There seemed to be a double meaning there and it annoyed her that she couldn't grasp it. His surliness was annoying too, since she'd thought she'd seen the last of it.

"Then if it makes no difference, shall we go?"

She didn't wait for his consent, or for him. She left the car and marched angrily toward the main street.

Colt jerked her around before she'd even left the sta-tion yard.

"You want to do this damn fool thing, then you'll do it my way. Keep your hat on, your eyes lowered.

You stare at some man looking like one yourself, and he'll think you want to fight. Keep your mouth shut, too. And for Christ's sake, don't cling to me if something startles you. Remember you're supposed to be a man. Act like one."

"Like you? I don't think I can manage that partic-ular scowl, but you've got so many to choose from, I should be able to imitate at least one. How's this?"

The face she made was his undoing. He turned her about and shoved her forward before she noticed the grin he couldn't keep back.

They didn't have too far to go to find a saloon. "Do they brew gold here?" Jocelyn inquired after seeing the sign out front that read "The Gold Nugget Brewery."

Colt wasn't ready for any more of her humor just then. "Trouble is what they brew in these places, Dutch. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Dutch?" She grinned. "I assume that's a manly nickname and not a nationality. Do I really look like a Dutch?"

"You look like something dragged in off the range," he retorted and yanked her hat down to cover her delicate earlobes. "Christ, this will never work. One look at your face and it's all over."

"But what could happen if they know I'm a woman?"

"Anything, dammit."

She could see he was about to change his mind about letting her go inside, so she backed up toward the batwing doors as she said, "Just five minutes, Colt, please. Nothing will happen in just five min-utes." And she pushed through the doors before he could stop her.