Savage Thunder

Chapter Eight

Vanessa opened the door of their suite in the Grand Hotel to find Babette giggling in the hall with Mr.

Sidney, one of the two footmen constantly vying for her attention. "Well, come along, girl," Vanessa said impatiently, giving Sidney a look of stern disapproval that had him quickly leaving. "I managed to get her to lie down with a cold compress, but she won't relax until she hears what Alonzo has to report. You do have his report?"

"But of course." Babette grinned, her artfully arranged blond ringlets bouncing as she hurried into the room. "Alonzo, he finds where the 'Merican goes, but how long he stays there…" The French maid shrugged.

"Well, as long as he stays put for whatever it is she intends, though I can't imagine what that is. She did say he refused employment." Vanessa frowned then, staring at the closed door of Jocelyn's bedroom.

"On second thought, maybe it would be better if she didn't see him again. I haven't seen her burst into tears like that since those first months after the duke passed on."

"Is no wonder, after everything that is happen to-day-"

"Oh, I know, I know," Vanessa replied, still amazed that none of their people had been seriously hurt during the ambush. Though two men had been wounded and put to bed under a doctor's supervision, they could travel again if the need arose. "But that's not why she cried. The nerve of that rogue, to snub her like that."

"Maybe he did not see her, yes?"

"Maybe."

But Vanessa didn't believe that for a minute. And although she was surprised at how keen Jocelyn's in-terest was in this man, she wasn't sure it was wise for her to pursue that interest, not after all she had told Vanessa about her encounter with him. He sounded much too. unusual.

"Did Alonzo also find out what a half-breed is?"

Babette's pale blue eyes rounded, remembering that part of the report. "Oh, yes, but you will not like it, I think."

"I didn't suppose I would," Vanessa remarked dryly. "Come along, then."

The countess knocked softly before the two women entered the darkened bedroom. The sun had just set, though there was still a lavender sky visible through the open windows, with just enough light to show that Jocelyn was not sleeping; was, in fact, sitting up and looking expectantly at her young maid.

Vanessa motioned Babette to turn on the lamps before saying, "I took the liberty of ordering a light repast that should be delivered shortly. I don't know about you, but I certainly don't feel up to changing for dinner tonight."

Jocelyn frowned at her dear friend. "You should have been the one to lie down, Vana, especially after that terrible headache you suffered this morning. There's certainly nothing wrong with me—"

"— that a little food and rest won't see to," Vanessa finished, her tone brooking no argument.

Jocelyn sighed. It was easier to give in to the count-ess when she got into one of her mothering moods, which she had been in ever since Jocelyn had suc-cumbed to that silly burst of emotion just after they were shown to their suite. She looked at Babette again, who was still flitting from lamp to lamp. There were six of them in this room alone.

The accommodations were very adequate, consid-ering what they had been led to expect: that most Western towns were small, their hotels even smaller. This being the first Western town they encountered, its large size was a welcome surprise, as was the se-lection of hotels they had had to choose from. The Grand was not on a par with the luxurious hotels on the East Coast, but it certainly tried to be. And they had been able to rent the entire second floor here, which was ideal for security purposes.

"Enough, Babette," Jocelyn ordered with impatience. "How much light does Alonzo's report warrant?"

The French girl grinned cheekily now that her stall-ing ploy was seen through. "Is not so bad. At least Alonzo, he say is only a matter of prejudice. The half-breed, he is considered the same as the Indian, and the Indian, he is treated with contempt and loath-ing."

"Contempt?"

"To hide the fear, you understand. The Indian, he is still greatly feared in this place. He still raids and kills and—"

"Which Indian — ah, Indians?"

"Apaches. We hear of them in Mexico, no?"

"So we did, but I don't recall hearing they were still so hostile."

"Is only Geronimo. Alonzo say he is a renegade with only a small number of followers who hide out in Mexico, but they raid this side of the border too."

"Very well, but Colt Thunder is not an Apache half-breed, he's Cheyenne," Jocelyn pointed out. "What did Alonzo learn of the Cheyenne Indians?"

"They are not known in this area."

"Then why would Mr. Thunder think I should be leery of him?"

"I believe you have missed the point, my dear," Vanessa interjected. "Prejudice is not particular. It sounds like all half-breeds are treated the same in these Western territories, no matter which Indian tribe they are associated with."

"But that's preposterous," Jocelyn insisted. "Not to mention unfair. Besides, there wasn't the least little thing contemptible about Colt Thunder. I found him very polite — well, mostly polite. And he was exceed-ingly helpful. Good Lord, in less than an hour's span the man twice saved my life." He was also impatient, short-tempered, argumentative, and stubbornly op-posed to having anything more to do with her, but that wasn't worth mentioning.

"Jocelyn, dear, we are all grateful to this fellow for his timely assistance. Indeed we are. But his feelings in the matter couldn't have been more plain this afternoon. He won't even talk to you."

"I understand that now. He behaved the same way this morning, as if I were committing some grave faux pas just by being in the same vicinity with him. It's so silly."

"He obviously doesn't think so."

"I know, and he thought he was protecting me by avoiding me in town, which is very commendable, but hardly necessary. I'm not about to let someone else's prejudices influence me. Nor do I give a fig for public opinion. If I want to associate with the man, I will. No one will tell me that I can't."

Vanessa raised a golden brow as Jocelyn's chin went up stubbornly. The duke had told her once, during their initial interview, that his duchess was of the sweetest nature, biddable, and flexible. Vanessa was in a position to know differently.

"Just what sort of association did you have in mind?" Vanessa asked reluctantly, afraid she already knew.

Jocelyn shrugged, though there was a definite spar-kle in her lime-green eyes. "Oh, I don't know.

Per-haps what we were discussing early this morning."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."