Savage Thunder (11 page)

“P
ete’s ridin’ in.”

“’Bout time,” Dewane grumbled.

“Did he bring a doctor with him?” Clay asked from his pallet in the corner.

“Quit yar bellyachin’,” Dewane snapped at the wounded man. “I got the damned bullet out, did’n I?”

“Pete’s alone, Clay,” Clydell offered from the open doorway where he’d spotted the rider coming in. “A doc could’n do much now anyways, an’ then we’d jes’ hafta kill ’im ta keep his mouth shut. Ya want some more whiskey?”

Elliot watched silently as a bottle of the raw firewater that passed for whiskey in this area was handed over to the man called Clay. The chap was dying and just didn’t know it. He had lost too much blood before he had found his way back to them. Instead of making his suffering even worse by removing the bullet, Elliot would have simply put him out of his misery, but he wasn’t asked his opinion and didn’t volunteer it. He had wanted to kill him anyway for failing in his assignment, but he had kept that desire to himself too. It wouldn’t do for the others to know how really furious he was.

The ultimate blame for this latest failure was his
and he knew it, for hiring incompetents, for not coming up with a better plan, for not sending more than just two men after the duchess. Luck had come into it again, her infernal luck, this time in finding assistance in the middle of nowhere, and skilled assistance at that. How did she do it every bloody time?

Clay had fallen back into semiconsciousness, which ought to keep his moaning down for a while. It had been driving Elliot crazy, that persistent moaning. But he had said nothing. He was allowing it to get on the others’ nerves, too, so no one would object very much when he suggested the chap be left behind to die in peace.

Dewane set the coffeepot down on the table, but Elliot made no move to refill his tin cup with the horrid brew. Their accommodations were deplorable, but at least there was a roof overhead.

Clydell had found the empty hovel which he called a line shack, a place the cowhands of one of the ranches in the area would use when they were out on the range doing whatever it was they did for a living. It sported a table and two chairs, an old cookstove, a few rusted tin goods in a chest, and a moldy mattress on a rope frame. Likely the roof would leak if it rained, but it gave them a place to wait while Pete Saunders was finding out what he could of the duchess’s destination.

After two nights of waiting, however, Elliot had begun to think the youngest member of his little group had deserted them. He wouldn’t have been overly surprised. After so bloody long having nothing go right for him, he had come to expect the worst. But Pete
was back, and now he could finally get down to planning his next move.

Pete sauntered into the one-room shack, grinning and dusting his clothes off with a beat-up hat that was likely older than he was. Elliot had been leery of employing the boy when he first saw him, even though a full brown beard concealed his tender age somewhat. But after being given a list of his accomplishments, which included armed robbery, cattle rustling, and one gunfight where he had emerged the winner, Elliot had reconsidered. He still didn’t care for the eighteen-year-old’s enthusiasm and jolly manner, though, as if this were only a game he was playing at.

“Thought ya got lost, Pete,” Clydell remarked by way of greeting.

“Or too lickered up ta find yer way out of a pisspot,” Dewane added with a sneer.

“Didn’t have a drop,” Pete protested, still grinning as he plopped down across from Elliot in the only other chair. “But I could sure stand a drink now. How’s Clay doin’?”

“The same,” Clydell said and set his bottle of rotgut on the table.

Elliot allowed the boy only a few swallows from the upended bottle before demanding, “If you have something to report, Mr. Saunders, I would very much like to hear it
now
.”

The grin was still there when the bottle was lowered. Elliot would have thought it was a deformity of the boy’s mouth, that constant grin, if he hadn’t seen
him without it when Clay had rejoined them, all covered in blood.

“Sure thing, boss,” Pete replied. “When I got to Tombstone, it weren’t hard findin’ the lady. She’d caused plenty excitement ridin’ in the way she did with all those fancy rigs and guards of hers. Just about everyone was talkin’ ’bout her, speculatin’ who she was and what she was doin’—”

“Yes, yes, that happens no matter where she goes,” Elliot interrupted impatiently. “Just get on with it.”

“Well, she checked herself and her whole bunch into the Grand, so I figured she was there to stay a while. I was set to ride out the next mornin’ after I found out if we had to worry ’bout a posse comin’ after us—”

“Do we?” Dewane wanted to know.

“Nah. The fella I asked who sweeps out the jail said we was listed as ‘persons unknown’ when they turned the body in. They didn’t give no descriptions, so the marshal had nothin’ to go on. But as I was sayin’, it’s a good thing I overslept the next mornin’ and didn’t leave first thing.”

“Had some fun, did ya, while we was sittin’ here twiddlin’ our thumbs waitin’ on ya?” Dewane asked in a surly tone.

“Ah, come on, Dewane, what was I supposed to do with time to kill? So I was up a little late that first night. If I hadn’t enjoyed myself some, I wouldn’t’ve still been there when the lady left town again.”

“She’s already on the move?” Elliot demanded with some surprise.

“Sure is. She took off right after the shootout—hey, Dewane, you’ll never guess who bought it!” Pete added excitedly. “The McLaury brothers and the Clanton kid.”

“The Earps?”

“Who else?”

“Didja see it?” Clydell asked.

“Nah. It happened while I was findin’ out what I could at the jail. But you could hear the shots firin’ from everywhere. By the time I got there it was all over.”

“If you please, Mr. Saunders,” Elliot interjected. “I am interested in the duchess, not some obscure shootout in one of your frontier towns.”

“Sure, boss, but you see, the lady was there. And right after is when she took to her heels. It don’t take much to figure that all that killin’ turned her stomach enough to want to get out of there. Anyway, I figured as late as I was, I might as well go by her hotel one more time, and that’s when I seen her wagons lined up out front and bein’ loaded up.”

“I will assume you were smart enough to follow her?”

Pete nodded. “Until they made camp last night a few miles past Benson. They’re stickin’ to the stage roads even though they picked up some breed for a guide before they left town. He had ’em pullin’ out by dawn this mornin’ and headin’ for Tucson. That’s when I come on back here.”

“Where is she going now?” Elliot asked.

“Sounds like Tucson,” Clydell offered helpfully.

Elliot sighed inwardly. Imbeciles. Nothing but a bunch of imbeciles.

“I assure you the duchess does not intend to remain in this territory, Mr. Owen. It is her ultimate destination I am concerned with.”

“She’s travelin’ north now, but it’s sure as shootin’ she ain’t headin’ up ta Utah,” Dewane said, the only one to grasp what Elliot wanted. “Nuthin’ but deserts up thataway. They can either turn off toward Californy or head on over inta New Mexico at any time, then maybe up ta Colirada. Thar’s railroads up thar’ll take her all the way back East if she’s a mind.”

“Very good.” Elliot finally smiled, though it was a cold, anticipatory smile. “And as long as she keeps to the roads, which is almost assured with those cumbersome vehicles of hers, then we can easily get ahead of her with a little hard riding. How far is this Tucson?”

“Too far fer them fancy rigs ta make it t’day, but if’n we leave now an’ ride through the night, we’ll get thar first.”

“Excellent, but we will also need more men. Would you happen to be acquainted with any in Tucson?”

“I might,” Dewane replied. “Ya thinkin’ of attackin’ in force now?”

“You are forgetting how many armed men she has, Mr. Owen, and now she’s added still another to that number. It’s too bad about that guide. One of you could have offered your services for the job, and once in her camp, it would have been a simple matter to
slit her throat and escape the first moonless night. By the way, what exactly is a
breed?
”

“A half-breed. Ya know, part Injun. What was he, Pete? Apache?”

“Nah, too tall. And I ain’t never seen an Apache breed wear a Colt like he really knew how to use it. They stick to rifles.”

“Tall, huh?” Dewane said uneasily. “Ya wouldn’ happen ta have caught his name, would ya?”

“Matter of fact, I was close enough to hear two of her guards talkin’ ’bout him ’fore they kinda insisted I leave the area. They called him Mr. Thunder.”

“Ah, shit!” Dewane swore, then added a few more choice words to that. “She’s gone an’ got herself a fast gun, a
real
fast gun!”

“Am I to understand you know this Thunder chap?”

Dewane forgot himself enough to glare at the Englishman for his calm in the face of his own upset. Colt Thunder, the only bastard who’d ever made him back down from a fight. Shit! What the hell was he doing this far south?

“Ya could say I know ’im, yes. I seen ’im draw on a fella a few years back, and thar weren’ no contest to it.”

“But, Dewane, that were—”

“Shut up, Clydell!” Dewane growled at his brother. “I know what I seen.” And then in a calmer tone: “The Injun’s no one ta mess around with, boss. He don’ take no crap or insult from any man. He don’ hafta, as good as he is. An’ ya can bet yer sweet life he’s the one shot up our boys. That’d make sense,
what with her bein’ able ta hire him so quick. She had ta already have met ’im.”

“So where is the problem? You simply eliminate him.”

“An’ how in hell we supposed ta do that? I tol’ ya—”

“Don’t worry, dear fellow,” Elliot replied sardonically. “I’m not suggesting you challenge him to a duel. A bullet in the back ought to do nicely, and then the duchess will need another guide, won’t she?”

“I guess she will at that.” Dewane grinned. As long as
he
didn’t have to get anywhere near Colt Thunder…

“If you have nothing else to report, Mr. Saunders, I suggest we be on our way,” Elliot said as he stood up to go. “I will need time to survey this next town to see what advantage, if any, might be found in its layout.”

“What about Clay?” Pete wanted to know.

“If you think he can survive the ride, by all means bring him along.”

Pete glanced at Dewane as the Englishman walked out, but they didn’t hesitate long in following. The fifth man of their group, who hadn’t contributed to the conversation, did the same. He had known Clay just a few months, but wouldn’t waste sympathy on a man careless enough to get shot, since they all took that risk. Clydell was the only one who spared a last glance for the dying man, and as an afterthought, set his bottle of whiskey on the floor next to Clay’s pallet before he, too, followed the others.

T
hey were a beautiful sight, the woman and the magnificent horse. For a short while Colt was mesmerized by the skill that made her seem part of the animal in its wild race across the cactus-strewn basin. He would never have believed she could ride like that, not a woman who chose to pamper herself with fancy coaches. And she wasn’t even sitting the horse properly. She sat sideways, for Christ’s sake. It made him wonder what other misconceptions he might have formed about her.

But he didn’t wonder for long. Quickly his temper started to rise, and by the time she reached him, it was just short of boiling. He didn’t even give her a chance to catch her breath, and his voice was so loud he managed to spook her stallion, so that it was several moments more before she got him enough under control to even hear what Colt was shouting about.

“—all the stupid, idiotic…you’re crazy, right? I should have known! Why else would you pay a dozen men to guard you, then take off without a single one of them beside you?”

“What
are
you talking about?” Jocelyn demanded when she finally brought Sir George up beside him. “I saw you from a distance. I rode directly toward you. If you haven’t noticed, there are no hills, or trees,
or even bushes that anyone could hide behind. I was perfectly safe in covering this distance alone.”

“Is that right? Well, look again, Duchess. That mountain lion over yonder is a mite far from his hunting ground, but he’s still there. Whether he caught the dinner that led him this far afield is anyone’s guess, but it sure don’t mean he’d ignore an easy prey like you if he caught your scent.”

He waited a moment for her to stare aghast at the slow-moving cat which was only about three hundred yards south of them. Fortunately, it didn’t appear very interested, but she didn’t know that, and he wasn’t finished with her yet.

“And the snake that spooks that skittish animal of yours into dropping you in the dust will still be there to take a whack at you while your horse is galloping off to safety. You think someone can reach you in time to cut out the poison before you’re dead? Think again. Man isn’t the only danger out here.”

“I believe you’ve made your point,” Jocelyn said in a small voice.

“Good,” he replied with a great deal of satisfaction, only to add, “So what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Sir George and I both needed the exercise,” she rushed to explain. “He hasn’t had a good run since we left Mexico, and besides, it is my habit to ride him for a while each day. In this case, I…I wanted to speak to you, and as it didn’t appear that you would be returning before nightfall again, I didn’t see the harm…well, I see it now, but I didn’t when I decided to join you.”

“Get down.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You gave him his run, Duchess, about three miles’ worth. Now give him a breather. Christ, don’t you know—”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to care for my horse!” she snapped, but immediately dismounted and started walking Sir George in a circle around Colt. “You can instruct me in anything else you please, but not about horses. I’ve bred and raised them all my life, and no one,
no one
, can tell me a thing about them that I don’t already know, and know better.”

Colt said nothing to that. The fact that she had a temper surprised him enough to cool down his own. He didn’t doubt that she knew horses. Anyone who rode as well as she had to be well acquainted with them. But to have bred and raised them? That wasn’t exactly a typical undertaking for a woman to pursue, at least not a white woman.

She really was proving to be other than what he had thought, in some things anyway. But he didn’t mind these particular surprises, for they managed to relieve his mind on one score. If it came down to a chase because she happened to be caught out alone, who the hell could catch her on that horse? And she undoubtedly knew that. He wondered why she hadn’t mentioned it when he came down on her so hard.

“Did you breed him?”

She had been stewing silently, and glanced up warily at that question. “Yes.”

He dismounted then and stepped in front of her so she would stop. The bay stallion drew back ner
vously, until Colt stretched his hand out and said something to the animal in a language Jocelyn had never heard before. She stared incredulously as Sir George pushed his nose into that outstretched hand and then shouldered Jocelyn aside to get closer to the man.

“That’s amazing!” she gasped. “He’s nervous enough around people he knows, but he never lets strangers get near him. You’ve already made his acquaintance, haven’t you?” she added suspiciously.

“No.”

“Then how did you—Good Lord! You have the touch, don’t you?”

“The touch?”

“The ability to make animals trust you. I have it too, but I’ve never seen it work quite so quickly before.”

It annoyed him that she had discovered a common ground between them when he needed to cling to their differences. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Duchess?”

“Oh, well, you took off this morning before anyone could ask you why you had started us out on the road we traveled yesterday, only to suddenly turn us east.”

“You were followed yesterday,” was all he said.

“We…how…well! They must not have been very close for no one else to notice, but of course you roamed farther afield—”

“There was only one man,” he cut in before she went off on another one of her talking sprees. “He bedded down about a mile back, and returned the way
he’d come soon after you rejoined the road to Tucson.”

“So he’ll report we went that way, while we’ve turned in nearly the opposite direction,” she concluded with a laugh. “Oh, I knew you would prove invaluable to me, Thunder. I just hadn’t realized how much. Now, don’t look at me like that. What did I say?”

“I’m no guide, Duchess, and never professed to be one. Like that mountain lion, I’ve drifted a hell of a long way from my hunting grounds. I don’t even know when we’ll run into the next water hole. All I know is that beyond those mountains up ahead is New Mexico and the old Santa Fe Trail that’ll lead us to the plains. The plains I know. Between here and there…” he ended with a shrug.

“Good Lord, I thought…are you saying we could get lost?”

“Not lost, but for a while there’ll be no roads to make it easy, and I don’t guarantee the way between those mountains will be passable for your vehicles.”

“Then how did you get here from Wyoming? That is where you came from, isn’t it?”

“The way I came down, your coaches definitely couldn’t get through. But then I was following Billy down, and he didn’t know where the hell he was going.”

“You don’t appear very worried about it,” she pointed out.

“There’s always a way. What it comes down to is how much time’s wasted finding it. That’s Apache
country up ahead. There’s bound to be well-worn trails.”

“And Apaches?”

“You were more likely to have run into them in Mexico. Most of them are settled on reservations, just like every other tribe in the country. The time for you to have worried about Indians, Duchess, was when you met me, not now.”

She turned away from the bitterness that had entered his voice and moved toward his horse. “Please don’t start that again,” she told him without looking at him, her attention centered on the big-boned animal that stood docilely while she ran her hand up its neck. “There is nothing you can do that will make me believe you are the uncivilized savage you keep trying to convince me you are.”

It was the wrong thing to do, to throw out a challenge like that and not expect him to accept it. But she wasn’t used to dealing with men like him. Before she had any warning at all, she was on the ground and he was on top of her, both horses had shied out of the way, and his hand was already yanking her skirt up.

“Nothing, Duchess?” he said in a cold, determined voice. “Let’s see how you feel about that after I’m done with you.”

She was so stunned she barely heard him, but she felt the sharp tug on her drawers that ripped them open, and then the hard thrust of a finger inside her. “Colt, no, I won’t let you—”

“You can’t stop me, woman. Hasn’t that sunk in yet? You made sure we were alone where the only
protection you have is me. So who protects you from me?”

She shoved hard at his shoulders to dislodge him, but he was right, she couldn’t stop him. “You’re only doing this to frighten me!” And he was succeeding.

“You think it’s that many years since I left the life where I took whatever I wanted and killed for the right to do so? Do you know what would happen to you if I had found you then? This—and a helluva lot more. We not only raped white women, we made slaves of them.”

She was afraid he wasn’t just making a point this time, that he really was going to take her right there in the dirt, with the late afternoon sun broiling down on them. She didn’t want it to be like that, and the tears that came to her eyes said as much, but he didn’t see them.

It was instinct that made her wrap her arms around his neck as she pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me, Colt.”

He rolled off her instantly with a vicious curse. Again she was stunned. She hadn’t thought it would be that easy to make him stop, but the danger was definitely past. So he
had
just been trying to frighten her again!

“I ought to have you horsewhipped!” she seethed as she yanked her skirt down and scrambled to her feet. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Colt Thunder! I won’t allow it!”

He glanced over his shoulder at her from where he sat trying to get his overheated body back under con
trol. “Another damn word out of you and you’ll find yourself flat on your back again!”

He might have practically snarled that at her, but she was too angry to take heed. “Is that so, you misbegotten son of a—a—an Indian!”

He watched her reach
his
horse, lift her skirt high, and mount it—in the normal way, which hiked her skirt up to her knees. He also watched her pull his rifle out of its scabbard, but still he didn’t get to his feet. He didn’t know what the hell she thought she was doing, but as long as she didn’t point the weapon at him…

“I don’t mean for you to become that big cat’s dinner, but I do hope you will have cooled off before you join us for ours.”

With that she fired off two shots that hit the dust at the lion’s feet and sent it racing off into the distance. The noise also scattered a half-dozen nearby jackrabbits, grouse, and even a wild turkey that had previously gone unnoticed. Three more shots in quick succession ended the flight of two of the rabbits and the turkey.

Colt was still staring at the third dead animal when her voice cut through his amazement. “It’s only when the danger is camouflaged by its surroundings that it proves a danger, Mr. Thunder. You might want to gather those up before we reach you. Our cook, Philippe, will appreciate it.”

He didn’t understand half of those last comments of hers until she took off, which she did with a flurry of scattered dust, and then let loose the shrill whistle that brought up the bay stallion’s head and had him
galloping after her. But Colt didn’t get up even then. He was still incredulous over her marksmanship, which damn near equaled his own—another skill he would never have suspected she might possess—so he wasn’t quite dealing yet with her audacity in leaving him stranded.

At least she thought that was what she’d done. He could have called his horse back to him just as easily as she had summoned hers to follow her. But that would have put her within arm’s reach of him again, and it had already been proved with a vengeance that he couldn’t keep his hands off her when she was that close. Christ, he jumped on any excuse to touch her, even if it was only to frighten her so she wouldn’t get close enough again for him to find even
more
excuses.

When it did finally sink in that he was still sitting there with three dead animals nearby, almost guaranteed to attract buzzards soon, he let out a stream of curses that would have burned that vindictive redhead’s ears. He did need time to cool off, bodywise, and with the caravan still a good mile and a half away, there was little doubt that he would. His temper, on the other hand, was already on the rise again.