Savage Thunder

Chapter Twelve

He has done this for spite, you know," Vanessa complained angrily as she wiped the dust from her face with a damp cloth. "We passed that town no more than three or four miles back, and it was almost evening then. There was no conceivable reason for us to go on and end up camping out for the night, except that he means to get even with you for calling his bluff today. Mark my words, Jocelyn, that man intends to make you regret crossing him."

"I didn't cross him. I agreed to his terms."

"Don't be obtuse, dear. Those ridiculous terms weren't meant to be agreed to and you know it. You should have seen his face—"

"I did." Jocelyn grinned with such delight that Vanessa couldn't help sharing in her amusement. "I don't think Edward's money has ever given me quite so much pleasure before. He asked for the moon, and I was able to give it to him. Good Lord, that was satisfying."

"I hope you still think so when we end up spending the next several weeks in this tent."

"Oh, stop fussing, Vana. I wouldn't exactly call this a tent." The thing was huge, with ample head-room, a soft Persian carpet covering the ground, silken pillows to recline on, thick furs to sleep on.

"We have all the conveniences we could possibly need."

"Except a bath," the countess retorted, revealing the source of her annoyance.

"You can have a bath and you know it."

"After Sidney and Pearson loaded the wagons not so many hours ago, I wouldn't dream of asking them to lug water up from that river we've camped near. I like to think I have more consideration than that."

"The footmen aren't the only ones who can fetch water, Vana. You're just being difficult, and I'd like to know why."

"I'm not the one being difficult. There's simply no reason for us to rough it with a town only a few miles away. Your monstrously expensive guide is the one who's proving difficult."

"And if he has a legitimate reason for avoiding that town?"

"I'd dearly love to hear it. Why don't you go ask him? Well, what are you waiting for?"

"He's not here," Jocelyn had to admit. "His brother said he's scouting the area."

"Humph! More likely he's gone back to Benson for a soft bed and you'll see him in the morning, well rested and ready to heap more hardship on us. That would be just the sort of revenge that would appeal to someone like him."

"Now, there you're wrong, Vana. If he wants re-venge, it wouldn't be anywhere near so subtle, and it would be against me, not everyone."

"You saw that in his eyes, too, did you?" Vanessa asked in a much softer tone and came to kneel down among the pillows where Jocelyn was sitting. At Jocelyn’s unhappy nod, she placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Have you finally realized he isn't like any man you've ever known before? He's hard and dan-gerous and—"

"I still want him," Jocelyn interrupted in a soft whisper. "Even when he was frying me with his eyes, I still felt all funny inside, just as I did the first time I looked at him."

Vanessa sighed. "He won't be gentle with you, dearest; you know that, don't you? And if you tempt him when he's still angry at you, he may hurt you— deliberately."

"You don't know that," Jocelyn protested, even as her eyes filled with uncertainty. "He's not a cruel man.

I would have sensed it if he was — wouldn't I?"

"Perhaps," Vanessa allowed. "But I still don't think he has it in him to be gentle. He's a product of a life and culture that we can't even begin to conceive of. Will you at least keep that in mind?"

Jocelyn nodded, then fell back against the pillows with her own sigh. "I don't know what you're worried about. He isn't likely to forgive me for being rich enough to afford him."

Vanessa had to laugh. "Which just proves how different he is. What other man would be furious at find-ing himself the recipient of such a windfall? And we're not even taking him out of his way. For his convenience, we're going where he's going. By the way, where the devil is this Wyoming?"

"What the hell is that?"

Billy chuckled when he saw what Colt was staring at. "The ladies' accommodations. They got it from a desert sheikh when they were traveling through the Arab countries over in Africa. You wouldn't believe all the places they've been, Colt. The stories they have to tell ought to keep us entertained all the way to Wyoming."

Colt gave Billy a disgusted look before dismount-ing. "Where'd your sense go this time, kid? I ex-pected to ride in and find a camp, not a damn village. Do you have any idea how many men it's going to take to cover an area this size?"

There were other tents besides the main one, not as large but big enough, and spread out all over the place, as were the vehicles. The only thing that had been done right was that the animals were contained together in an area downwind of the camp.

"Why don't you relax, Colt, and come have some of this dinner I saved for you? They have a French cook, you know, and I can safely say I've never tasted anything… so…"

The words trailed off when Colt swung around from unsaddling his horse with a dangerous look on his face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, kid?"

Billy swallowed hard. He'd rather Colt shouted at him any day than use that soft, controlled voice. He was so damn unpredictable when the Indian side of him was dominant. Billy needed to pacify him and quick.

"They knew what they were doing, Colt. They're old hands at camping out. They had everything un-packed and set up in less than twenty minutes. And you forget how many men there actually are.

They've already got the watch covered…"

Again Billy's words trailed off. Colt had turned away to finish with his horse, but the very inflexibility of his movements spoke volumes. He was wound up tighter than a bowstring about to snap, and Billy finally realized the camp had nothing much to do with what was wrong with him, that it was only an outlet for the anger that couldn't be directed at its proper source. It was a good thing the "source" had already retired for the night.

Billy still couldn't quite believe that Colt was now working for the duchess. Those five little words, Take it or leave it, had trapped him but good. It was likely that half his anger was self-directed for having given the woman that option when it hadn't been his inten-tion at all. Fifty thousand dollars. Billy had nearly fallen off his horse when he heard that figure, but that was nothing compared to his shock, and Colt's, when the duchess accepted it.

It was funny now, after the fact; at least he thought so. But he knew Colt wasn't likely to find any humor in it — ever.

Colt might have a small fortune in raw gold that his mother had given him, but Billy doubted he had ever used any of it. Riches had no meaning for someone like Colt. He still lived off the land just as he always had. Jessie had failed to civilize him in that respect. He sometimes slept in the huge ranch house that Chase had built for Jessie after the old one burned down, and sometimes in the cabin he had built up in the hills overlooking the ranch. But most nights would find Colt's bed laid out under the stars somewhere, especially in warmer weather. And he had never worked for anyone before, not even for Jessie.

She had tried to teach him cattle ranching, but it was not something he wanted to do, so his heart hadn't been in the learning of it. What he had finally settled down to do was what he had always had the most skill with, horse training. He now supplied the Rocky Valley, as well as the other ranches in the area, with all the work horses they needed, animals that used to have to be shipped in from Colorado or farther afield. And the stallion he had given to Chase had won the annual horse race in Cheyenne these past two years, so his racers were now in high demand too.

But money still meant nothing to him. He caught and trained wild horses because it was something he enjoyed doing, not for the lucrative living it provided. Nonetheless, he understood money and the price of things. Jessie had rounded out his education in that respect. He'd gone on buying trips with her and Chase to Denver and St. Louis. And during his stay in Chicago he'd been in some of the finest homes, been dragged through some of the more expensive stores, seen firsthand the way the rich lived and played and what they spent their money on. He had been perfectly safe in believing that the fee he had named for his services was so outlandish, no one in their right mind would take it seriously, and that was his mis-take.

Oh, he had known the duchess was wealthy. That couldn't be missed. Her equipage, her quality horseflesh, her clothes, and the amount of people she already had in her employ, all shouted wealth.

What was incomprehensible, even to Billy, was the kind of wealth that made fifty thousand dollars a paltry sum not worth batting an eye over. Even Billy didn't know anyone that rich.

But even the rich didn't squander away their money frivolously, and that was exactly what the duchess was doing. Why? She might be eccentric, but she didn't strike Billy as being incompetent or crazy. Far from it. Was she just so spoiled that she couldn't tolerate being denied something she wanted?

That made no sense. What she wanted was a guide — or was it? It seemed more like Colt in particular that she had to have as a guide, even though he'd told her he wasn't for hire. He might be an excellent choice to get her safely where she was going, but so could any number of other men, men who would want the job. Colt didn't want it and had made that perfectly clear, but that didn't seem to matter to the duchess. So there had to be a particular reason why she had to have Colt working for her, no matter what it cost her, only Billy couldn't see it.

Neither could Colt, and he'd gone over it in his mind much more thoroughly than Billy had, and with more facts available to him. He knew that she'd first wanted him to go after her enemy. Being her guide had been her second offer. He wondered if she would have had a third if he'd agreed to meet with her earlier today. Likely. Did she think he was the answer to her problems? Didn't she know you couldn't force someone to help you? She'd bought herself a guide and that was all she was getting.

So why did it infuriate him that her camp was wide open to attack? Damned woman was going to get his protection whether he wanted to give it or not. But he wasn't going after her enemy. If she thought she could talk him around to it, she was in for a rude awakening.

And yet that couldn't really be the reason for such stubborn persistence on her part to have him along on this journey of hers. She could hire a dozen bounty hunters for the price she was willing to pay him. Or maybe she wasn't really willing to throw that kind of money away. Maybe she'd called his bluff with a bluff of her own and had no intention of actually paying up. And maybe he could get out of this mess by demanding the money up front — and look like a fool again if she just happened to have that kind of money lying around? Damned if he would. Once today was one time too many.

Colt dropped his saddle on the ground so close to the fire Billy was poking at that sparks went flying and the kid had to do some quick slapping at his clothes. Colt didn't notice. He was staring at that huge cream-and-white-striped monstrosity that stood less than twenty-five feet away, and he wasn't even seeing the tent, but imagining the woman inside it. Was her hair let down and loose again as it was the first time he'd seen her? Had she peeled off those fine, expensive clothes of hers and put on something — what? What did a woman like her sleep in?

Colt gnashed his teeth and turned back to his horse again. He would have much preferred that Billy not set up their fire near her tent, but it was done. He didn't expect to get much sleep tonight anyway, so it didn't really matter how near he was to her.

"I'll be back in a minute, kid. Get rid of that for-eign food. I'll make my own."

Billy started to protest, but wisely thought better of it. Colt had had enough forced on him for one day.

Her provisions would likely stick in his craw at this point, no matter how good they were.

Billy sighed as he watched Colt lead his Appaloosa off toward the other animals. He wasn't the only one who watched him. Ever since he had ridden in, every eye in the camp had been on him in varying degrees of curiosity, suspicion, and animosity. These people didn't know what to make of him, and they certainly didn't know how to treat him. All they knew was that their lady was determined to have him among them.

Billy had been approached, treated in a cordial, even friendly, fashion, but Colt's manner didn't invite such overtures. Even if he hadn't insulted the duchess within hearing of half her men, which was reason enough for them to dislike him, his demeanor fairly shouted, "Don't get close." And the one who ought to stay the farthest away was the duchess herself, but even as Billy thought it, she left her tent to follow Colt toward the horses.