Dance on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  That was all she needed. He’d probably already asked Thunder about being her escort only to find out she had lied.

  Damn. Damn. Double damn! Would her luck never change? Brandy bit her bottom lip before summoning the courage to saunter over to Ward and Thunder.

  She had barely taken a step when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, jerking her down onto a pair of masculine thighs. “If you’re looking for someone, honey, I’m your man.”

  A small squeal escaped her lips. Her heart pounded. “I—I don’t think so. I—I need to speak to that man over there.” She pointed toward Thunder and tried to regain her footing.

  Stanley’s eyes quickly followed hers. A quick grin formed on his lips. He felt like he’d just found the bait to accomplish his goal. The little lady was pointing to the gunslinger he’d been wondering about earlier.

  “So you’re partial to breeds,” he growled. His cruel tone sounded harsh and none too friendly.

  “That is none of your business,” Brandy informed him as she managed to get to her feet. However, the man still had a tight grip on her arm. She tried to jerk away. “Let go of me!” Glancing around, she saw they were drawing the attention of others. Great! Just what she needed.

  Billy had just poured Ward a drink when he glanced at the door to see what had caused the ruckus. “Gosh almighty. It’s Brandy!”

  Thunder snapped around in time to see what was going on. He homed in on the man hanging onto Brandy’s arm, and Thunder’s jaw tightened. He shoved off the stool, only to find Ward’s hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him.

  “He’s bringing her this way,” Ward whispered. “Wait and see what he wants.”

  Thunder didn’t like it, but he stayed put.

  “Unhand me!” Brandy demanded as she was being pulled across the plank floor. She struggled and managed to kick over two chairs, but did little toward gaining her release. The man’s fingers bit into her arm. Finally, she swung at him, her hand connecting with the side of his head, momentarily stunning him.

  Cody glowered at her and tightened his grip. “You little hellcat!”

  “Get your hands off her!” Billy shouted.

  “Who the hell are you?” Cody sized up the boy behind the bar. He’d expected the Indian to say something—not the kid.

  “She’s my sister,” Billy said with a stem-faced expression. “Let her go!”

  “If I were you, young’un . . .” Cody paused, an ugly smile on his thin lips. “I’d shut my mouth and stay behind the bar. It seems she wants to see the Injun.”

  With her captor temporarily distracted, Brandy seized her opportunity, and kicked him hard in the shin.

  “Why, you little bitch!” he yelled. Cody’s grip slackened as he reached to rub his injured leg. She jerked free and dashed over to stand between Thunder and Ward.

  Cody grabbed for her, but lost his balance and fell face down on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and reached again for the prize.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ward warned.

  “Stay out of this, old man. I saw the bitch first.”

  Brandy flattened herself against the bar. She’d never heard such language! And certainly never directed at her.

  “Whatcha doin’ in here?” Billy whispered over her shoulder.

  Brandy turned toward him. “I’m trying to get someone to escort our wagon.” She shuddered as she looked around again. “This isn’t a very nice place,” she whispered back.

  “No shit!” Billy told her heatedly. “I told you I’d talk to him. This ain’t no place for a lady.”

  Silence hung thick in the room as everyone turned to watch the two men arguing over a woman. It wasn’t an uncommon thing in any saloon and usually the death of one or the other would follow, providing the men had backbones. It was the best entertainment of the week

  “Yuh just goin’ to sit there starin’, or are yuh goin’ to give her to me?” Cody asked.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Brandy told him, hoping she was right. So far, she didn’t seem to be getting much protection from Thunder or Ward, who hadn’t taken their eyes off the man.

  Undaunted, Cody reached for her again. Thunder caught the cowboy’s wrist and squeezed tight until the other man winced. “I believe the lady said she had come to see me. Find another way to amuse yourself, my friend,” he said evenly through clenched teeth.“Get your hand off me, Injun,” Cody spat, jerking away from Thunder and wiping his sleeve like he was trying to get the dirt off. “I don’t like yer looks.” Cody lowered his hand to his side and flexed his fingers just over his gun handle. “Why don’t we settle this outside like real men?”

  “Unlike you, I have no doubts about my manhood,” Thunder said, wishing the scum would just go away. He had seen his loudmouthed kind before, and knew he looked for trouble. The girl had only provided an excuse.

  The crowd chuckled at Thunder’s insult.

  “Either draw on me fair, or I’ll put a bullet in yuh now!”

  Thunder slammed down his glass and pushed away from the bar. He held his hands out, fingers flexing, ready to react in a heartbeat.

  The gleam in Cody’s eyes spoke of his excitement over his impending accomplishment . . . another notch in his gun handle. The whole thing made Thunder’s skin crawl. He’d seen enough senseless killing. He didn’t need more.

  Brandy reached over the bar and grabbed Billy’s arm. “Do something!” she pleaded.

  Billy’s eyes were wide. “I am. I’m going to duck behind the bar.”

  The next thing she knew, Ward had jerked her out of the way.

  “Why are they making such a fuss, Ward? I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I only wanted to talk to Mr. Thunder.”

  “It’s not so much you as the man’s just looking for a fight. And it appears this time he’s picked the wrong feller.”

  Thunder eyed Cody for a few long minutes, then moved past him, heading for the front door of the saloon.

  “Where are you going?” Cody demanded.

  Thunder didn’t bother to answer. He just pushed through the batwing doors.

  Chairs started to scrape on the floor as everybody stood up to follow Thunder.

  Ward took Brandy by the elbow and escorted her outside. Billy followed close behind. “There’s always excitement when a good fight is about to happen,” Ward said.

  “Can’t someone do something?” Brandy pleaded.

  “Not at this point,” Billy said as he leaned up against a strong post. “It’s gone too far.”

  The spectators from the saloon lined up along the boarded walkway while people who had been moving across the street now stopped to stare. The main players took their places on the dusty street

  A hot breeze blew tumbleweeds down the street. Wagons and drivers came to a stop, not wanting to get in the middle of gunfire.

  Brandy listened to the mumbling all around her as each man placed his wager on who would win. Appalling—that’s what it was. This whole thing was just one big game to them, and they couldn’t care less if someone died. What was wrong with them? Death was not entertainment.

  Finally, stillness prevailed. A hush came over the crowd and lingered in the air as the waiting began.

  Ward leaned down to Brandy. “Are you sure you want to see this? It could get real ugly,” he told her.

  “No, I don’t want to watch. I don’t want them to fight at all.” But in spite of her words, she couldn’t pull her gaze off Thunder. He looked dangerous. Very dangerous. And yet she had the strongest urge to protect him.

  Ward looked from man to man before he commented, “I’m afraid the cards have been dealt. There’s no stopping it now.”

  “I heard Thunder’s fast,” Billy said, his voice filled with awe.

  “Yes, he is,” Ward agreed, nodding. “But there’s always someone somewhere just a little faster.”

  Thunder stood, his feet braced apart, his hands hanging loosely by his sides. He flexed his fingers as he waited. Poised and rea
dy, he appeared completely lacking in emotion.

  Brandy shivered.

  What was the secret to this man who stood so ready to fight for someone he hardly knew, she wondered. She was sure a compassionate man lurked in there somewhere, but so far he had hidden it well.

  Brandy realized Thunder wouldn’t have been in this fight if she hadn’t entered the bar. If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself. A strange kind of magnetism drew her to him. She didn’t want to think she’d never see him again.

  She jerked her eyes away from Thunder and focused on his opponent. The man didn’t look half the man Thunder was. She’d heard someone call him Cody. He appeared cocky. But could he shoot? Would he win? God, she hoped not.

  She silently whispered a prayer for Thunder.

  Cody was beginning to have second thoughts. He shifted his feet as he recklessly attempted to stare down his opponent. His stomach quivered with uneasiness. He’d thought the breed would have backed down by now. Had he misjudged his opponent? He couldn’t possibly be that fast If he were, he would have heard about him. Cody wished the breed would move . . . draw first but he just stood there, seemingly unconcerned.

  He needed provoking.

  “Yuh might look like a white man, but you’re a stinkin’ Injun! We don’t need your kind ’round here!” Cody shouted. His finger twitched to feel the cold metal next to his hand. “Any last words?”

  When Thunder spoke, his voice sounded cold and deadly. “You have a big mouth for such a small man.”

  Cody’s temper blew and his trigger finger jerked. “I’ll teach yuh! You’ll be no better than buzzard’s bait.” His hand sliced through the air as he went for his gun.

  This was it.

  Brandy watched with horror.

  Thunder had his gun palmed before Cody’s cleared the holster. The bullet whistled through the air, carrying death to its target.

  “Did you see that?” Billy shouted. He’d never seen anyone that quick.

  The roar of the blast ... the acrid smell of gun-powder ... the ripping of flesh as blood splattered from Cody’s chest sent a numbness running up Brandy’s back, spreading like wildfire. Her head throbbed as a blackness engulfed her so quickly she couldn’t do anything to stop the darkness as it sent her crashing to the ground.

  7

  Brandy couldn’t see anything, nor could she move, but she vaguely heard voices and the shuffling of feet coming from the fog that had engulfed her. She wanted to move, but no sounds came when she tried to speak.

  “She’s been hit!” Billy shouted.

  Thunder heard Billy’s cry. A cold knot formed in his stomach as he hurried to Brandy’s side. How could she possibly have been hit? There hadn’t been any stray bullets. Could someone else have fired a bullet at precisely the same time? A bullet meant for him?

  When he reached Brandy, he bent down on one knee and lifted her head, cradling her in his arms. He ran a hand over her body probing for a wound, but discovered none. Puzzled, he felt her forehead and found it cold and clammy.

  “She’s just fainted, Billy,” he said. “Probably should get her inside.”

  Thunder rose, clutching Brandy in his arms against his chest. Before he could move, he heard the marshal call to him.

  “Take her over to the jailhouse. I’ll need to be talking to yuh, mister.”

  Thunder’s expression hardened to a mask of stone. “You coming, kid?” he asked Billy.

  “No, I’ll go back to The Golden Lady. Need to pick up my pay. ’Sides,” Billy grinned, “it appears she’s in good hands. Take care of her, Thunder.”

  Thunder nodded. He didn’t bother to answer the lawman, but headed toward the jailhouse with his unconscious burden. Brandy was as light as a feather, he thought when he looked down at her. He also noticed the new dress and smiled because she had taken his advice. He was especially glad to see it wasn’t black.

  “Need some company?” Ward called as he came up behind Thunder. “The marshal could spell trouble,” he pointed out, then added, “Did you have to kill the man?”

  Thunder passed Ward, then looked at him. “Should I have let him shoot me?”

  “Guess not.” The comer of Ward’s mouth twisted upward. “But you could have wounded him instead of killing him.”

  “He needed killing before he killed somebody else.”

  “But that wasn’t up to you.”

  In Brandy’s fog-filled world she felt herself being carried. Someone’s arms were firm and his shoulder hard as her head rested against him. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she walk, see, or talk? She felt weak, drained of all energy. She wanted to say something, but her body refused to cooperate.

  Voices drifted in and out of the murkiness; one of them sounded like Thunder. She felt so peaceful wrapped in strong arms, but whose? Were they Thunder’s? Why would he hold her so protectively when he didn’t like her and wanted nothing to do with her?

  Giving up her feeble musings, she succumbed to the darkness once again.

  Inside the jail, Thunder placed Brandy on a chair. She started slipping sideways, and he had to place his hands on her shoulders to pull her forward until her head was positioned between her knees. She began to struggle against his hands, and Thunder knew she would be all right.

  He shoved her back up until he could see her face. Her hazy, violet eyes attempted to focus on him, but she still seemed woozy as her head bobbed from side to side. A fine sheen of perspiration coated her face. Thunder could see she hadn’t fully recovered, so he kept his hands firmly on her arms to prevent her from falling over and cracking her skull. Now that he was so close, he could see that she was even prettier than he’d first thought. The gods had given her the rarest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “She still looks peaked,” Ward commented from beside him.

  “The color is starting to come back to her face. She’ll recover,” Thunder said, then added, “When she does, I want to know why she came into The Golden Lady. She should have had better sense.”

  Brandy felt as though her head was two sizes larger than normal. She could tell someone was holding her up as her vision started to clear, and then she saw Thunder and Ward.

  “What happened?” Brandy asked as she struggled to hold herself upright. “I feel terrible.”

  Thunder turned sideways to talk to her. “You’ve fainted, little one.” She was surprised that his voice sounded soft and tender. “It seems you don’t like the sight of blood.”

  A flash of the gunfight reminded her how scared she’d been for Thunder. “You were not hurt?” she asked.

  “No. I don’t have a scratch.”

  “And that’s what I need to talk to you about.” Marshal Pete’s voice came from somewhere behind Thunder.

  “Why are we in the jailhouse?” Brandy asked when she heard Pete’s voice. They didn’t bother to answer her.

  “You’re under arrest for murder,” Pete said.

  “What?” Thunder started to stand, but as soon as he let go of Brandy, she clutched his arm Not able to do anything else, he held his arm around her, letting her head rest once again, on his shoulder.

  Ward snapped around at the sheriff’s words. “Wait a minute, Pete! I can vouch for Thunder. He works for me.”

  “He might work for you, Ward, but he’s just killed a man in cold blood. The whole blame town saw him. They want blood.”

  “It wasn’t cold blood. The dead man provoked him,” Ward insisted. “He was doing everything he could to make Thunder draw on him”

  “The fight was fair,” Thunder added.

  “That’s not what everyone else says.” Marshal Pete picked up a set of keys to the cell. “Remember, you’re a stranger in this town.”

  “The fact that I’m part Cheyenne wouldn’t cloud your good thinking, would it, Marshal?”

  “You insult me, son.” Pete glared at Thunder before heading to the cell. “Afraid I’m goin’ to have to lock you up.”

  Brandy felt Thunder’s shoulder mus
cles tense. She still felt weak, but the cobwebs had finally begun to leave her brain. She was grasping bits and pieces of conversations, and she knew the conversation had turned sour. If they put Thunder in jail, he’d be hanged, and she would be stranded without help. Thunder was her only hope. Besides, he wasn’t guilty. That other man had caused the fight and Thunder had done everything he could to avoid shooting him. And she couldn’t bear the thought of Thunder in jail.

  “Wait, Marshal Pete,” Brandy’s shaky voice stopped him from moving forward. Instead, he came back to stand in front of her and Thunder.

  “You need to save your strength,” Marshal Pete said in a soft voice, much different from the tone he’d used with Thunder. “I’ll take you home after we lock this here fellow up.”

  “No!” She struggled to sit a little straighter. Startled by her outburst, Pete straightened and gaped at her.

  Brandy cleared her throat. “You know me?”

  Pete smiled. “Yep, for a long time now.”

  “Then you realize that I’m an honest person?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am, I can definitely say that. But what are you getting at?”

  Brandy’s pulse began to beat erratically. She had to make Marshal Pete understand. “Thunder was defending me from that.. . that. .. awful man. If it hadn’t been for me, Thunder wouldn’t be in this pickle,” she said. She drew in a big breath for strength and went on. “You cannot lock him up. I’ve hired him as my guide, and he’s going to help my family go out west. If you arrest him on this trumped up charge, you’ll sentence my family to starvation!” The marshal scowled, but Brandy rushed on anyway. “We have to be on that wagon train. And if I don’t have Thunder, Ward will not let us travel with the train.”

  “Surely it can’t be that bad, Miss Brandy. Can’t you find someone else?”

  She let out a long, audible sigh. “I’ve tried. There is no one else. I don’t want anyone else.” Brandy paused, surprising herself with her last remark. It was true. She didn’t want anyone else for a guide. For some strange reason, she needed this man. She trusted him.