Savage Thunder

Chapter Forty-four

The first thing the woman said to him was, "Unless he's changed gender, Colt, that isn't Billy you've brought home." And then he was embraced, and looked over, and finally frowned at. "I never thought it'd take this long. Couldn't you find the peabrain?"

Jocelyn did no more than stand back and listen to the brief explanation Colt offered, then the barrage of questions he answered. She didn't think she'd ever heard him talk so much, certainly not at one time. Of course she didn't doubt for a minute that the black-haired beauty with the magnificent turquoise eyes was his sister Jessie, the one who'd named him, the one who'd taught him English — there was no doubt of that either, listening to the two of them talk.

She eventually got introduced, but, typical of Colt, he just called her puchess. She wondered if he even remembered her name by now, but she didn't bother to correct his sister when she assumed Duchess was her name.

Then she met Jessie's husband, Chase, a simply gor-geous man with eyes so dark they appeared black.

Al-though Jessie didn't look more than twenty-one, she had to be a bit older than that with a seven-year-old son the image of his father, a five-year-old daughter, and another boy who was only four, beautiful children who gave Jocelyn a tight feeling in her chest when she watched them crawl all over their "Uncle Colt."

Having arrived at the Rocky Valley Ranch shortly after dark, Jocelyn excused herself early to allow Colt a private reunion with his family. In the morning, however, she found out that he had gone back to town last night. And when she joined his sister in the din-ing room of the large ranch house, it was to be met with a certain amount of hostility.

"What'd you do to my brother?" were the very first words said to her.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't take that haughty tone with me, Duchess, and don't pretend you don't know what I mean. The Colt who came home last night wasn't the same one who left here all those months ago to find Billy."

It dawned on Jocelyn that here, at last, she might learn something about Colt Thunder. She saw Jessie Summers' hostility for what it was, upset and concern over someone she loved, so Jocelyn didn't take of-fense, didn't even acknowledge it.

"Just how was he when he left here?" she ven-tured.

"Happy, content, and it took me a helluva long time to manage that. Here he can be himself, and let me tell you, Duchess, a more generous, thoughtful man you'll never meet. But last night, hell, he was reserved, he was on edge, he was closed up tight, and damned if he didn't light out of here just as soon as you went to bed. Now I want to know what's going on!"

"I'm afraid I haven't the vaguest notion. The only Colt I've known is the abrupt, surly fellow I first met when he saved my life. No, I take that back. He was more. relaxed, shall we say, this past week — up until yesterday, that is."

"And what happened yesterday?"

"We arrived in Cheyenne, of course, and he couldn't get rid of me fast enough. Unfortunately, my enemy had an alternate plan in mind, which is why I'm here, and perhaps that is why he seemed different to you.

He hasn't been able to divorce himself from my association yet."

"Divorce himself?" Jessie chuckled. "YouVe got a real fancy way with words, Duchess. Next time my husband decides to disagree with me, I think I'll di-vorce myself from die argument."

"A wise decision, if he's anything like Colt." Jocelyn joined in her humor.

"Colt argue? Since when?"

"Since forever, or so I thought. Are you saying that isn't usual?"

"It sure isn't. There aren't many folks who'd care to argue with him, if you know what I mean. When I do, he just sits back quietly until I run out of steam, then says something to make me laugh."

Jocelyn shook her head, bemused. "I can't believe we're talking about the same man."

"Neither can I, Duchess."

"Would you mind calling me Jocelyn?"

"What, is Duchess just a nickname Colt calls you?"

"You could say that," Jocelyn hedged, not wanting to explain when she had something more important to find out. "I've often wondered what could account for the bitterness IVe sensed in Colt so often. Perhaps you could shed some light on this."

"Are you kidding? It's kind of obvious, isn't it? Folks won't accept him as he is."

"But you said he was happy here, content even."

"That's here on the ranch. He's well known and liked in Cheyenne too, but every once in a while he still draws trouble there from strangers. It'll be a hell-uva long time, maybe not even in his lifetime, before folks can look at him and not see an Indian, one they feel naturally obliged to hate."

"But that's his own fault with the way he dresses to flaunt his heritage!" Jocelyn protested, her temper pricked by the unfairness of it all. "Doesn't he realize how little he actually resembles an Indian? If he cut his hair—"

"He tried that," Jessie interrupted sharply, some of her own bitterness showing through. "Do you want to know what it got him, looking like a white? It got one of my neighbors so riled when he found out the truth that he set his men on Colt, had him tied to a hitching rail, and ordered him whipped to death."

"Oh, God," Jocelyn whispered, closing her eyes as if she were in pain.

"There wasn't much skin left to stitch together," Jessie went on relentlessly as the memories came back to her. "There wasn't much flesh left either, after more than a hundred lashes. But do you know, he was still standing when we got there to put a stop to it. And they hadn't worked even one scream out of him either, though they tried hard enough, the bastards. Of course, we thought we'd lose him when he ran a fever for nearly three weeks. And it was a good eight months before he really got all his strength back.

But what they did to him is not a pretty sight."

"I know," Jpcelyn said in a small voice.

"You know? How'd that happen? He never lets anyone see his back."

"I'm afraid I came upon him by surprise."

"Oh," Jessie said, ashamed of what she'd started thinking. "You must have been — shocked."

"That doesn't half describe what I felt. I was very nearly sick."

"His back's not that disgusting," Jessie protested.

Jocelyn blinked. "Of course it isn't. I was sickened that someone could do that to him. I couldn't under-stand it then, and I still don't. That neighbor of yours had to have been a madman. That is the only thing that could explain such a heinous act of violence."

"Oh, he was sane enough. And he even felt he was justified. Colt was courting his lily-white daughter, you see, and he'd let him. That was all the reason he needed to do what he did, because Colt had dared to want his slut of a daughter. And do you know, she stood there and watched it all without saying a word." Then Jessie frowned, seeing Jocelyn's expression. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you all that. I just get so furious every time I remember it."

"Yes, I understand."

But Jocelyn understood even more than that. She now knew why Colt disliked white women so much, and she felt utterly defeated.

"What was all that 'your gracing' about?" Jessie asked her husband as they stood watching Jocelyn ride away with the six-man escort that had come for her.

"I think the duchess is actually a real duchess."

"Well, if that don't beat all." Jessie grinned. "My brother doesn't aspire too high, does he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chase frowned at her.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice the way he kept looking at her last night. I expected to see smoke rise up from the sofa she was sitting on."

"Christ, Jessie, you're not thinking of matchmak-ing, are you? She's an English noblewoman."

Her eyes narrowed on him. "Are you saying my brother isn't good enough?"

"Of course not," he said in exasperation. "All I'm saying is nobility marries nobility."

"She's already done that," Jessie snorted. "Seems to me she could marry whoever she wants to now."

"And you think she wants to marry Colt?"

A smug smile curled her lips. "I saw the way she was looking at him, too, last night. And you should have heard her talk about him this morning. I won't have to do any matchmaking, honey. Whatever's between them two is already there."

"You sound mighty pleased about that."

"I am. She's nice, but more than that, I think she can heal the scars on his soul."

"Scars on his soul? Christ, woman, where do you come up with such idioms?"

"Are you making fun of me, Chase Summers?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Her eyes sharpened on his innocent expression before she humphed. "Good, because if you do, I'll just have to divorce myself from your presence."

"You'll what?" he shouted after her, only to hear her laughter as she disappeared inside the house.