Savage Thunder

by Johanna Lindsey

  Colt had already left the room to settle the bill, so Billy gathered up his things and went out the back way to do as he’d been told. The stable wasn’t far. Camillus S. Fly had a photographic gallery at the back of his lodging house, and the O.K. Livery and Corral was behind that, right in the center of the square, accessible from any vacant lot along 3rd and 4th streets, or Fremont and Allen.

  Billy was back on Fremont with time to spare, but without the horses, as Colt noticed when he stepped out of Fly’s Lodging House. “Now don’t look at me like that,” Billy protested quickly. “My horse threw a shoe just as I was walking her out. It’ll only take a couple hours—”

  “A couple?”

  “The smith’s busy,” Billy explained. “That was his estimate, not mine. So what do you say to an early lunch instead, and I’ll challenge you to a few games of billiards over at Bob Hatch’s on Allen Street.”

  “You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you, kid?” Colt replied, but his expression wasn’t half as dark as it had been earlier.

  “I don’t think we’ll run into young Clanton, if that’s what you mean.” Billy grinned. “Fact is, I just heard his brother Ike was buffaloed by one of the Earp brothers this morning, then hauled before the judge and fined. It must have been Wyatt. They say he has a fondness for bending his gun barrel around hard heads. Billy has probably taken his brother back to their ranch by now. So where would you like to eat? The Maison Dorée?”

  Colt’s answer was a soft kick to Billy’s backside.

  Chapter Ten

  Mrs. Addie Bourland’s Millinery Shop was sandwiched between the offices of a stage line and a doctor on Fremont Street. The last thing Jocelyn needed was a new hat, but she had come here to order one, two, or a dozen, however many it took to keep her there until she caught sight of Colt Thunder either coming or going from his lodgings, which were just across the street. Vanessa had suggested she simply present herself at his door, but she was hesitant to do that. The men she had sent there that morning had not been received well, and she had no reason to think she would be any more welcome. No, a chance encounter on the street was the thing, and although there would be little “chance” to it, Mr. Thunder wouldn’t know that. She would not let him ignore her again.

  She had arrived in her coach just before two o’clock, but since she had sent it away, the curious it had gathered had also departed, so there was nothing to indicate she was ensconced within the millinery shop. The guards were a necessity she could not get rid of, though, six for this outing. They were stationed at the front and rear exits, those in the front room trying to be inconspicuous but failing. They had quite flustered Mrs. Bourland to begin with. She was not accustomed to so many men invading her small shop. Even one at a time was a rarity. But she was ignoring them now as the prospect of such a large order caught her full attention.

  With Vanessa stationed at the window to watch for Colt, Jocelyn kept Mrs. Bourland busy with the vast selection of feathers, flowers, colors, and materials available. Never had she been so indecisive in her choices, but then she had no idea how long she would need to stay there. To describe the elaborate European styles she favored in hats accounted for some time, but not enough. Pretending to be unable to make up her mind was going to become quite frustrating for the proprietress, for Jocelyn too, but it was necessary. If Colt didn’t show up before closing, however…

  “Jocelyn, dear, I think you had better come have a look at this,” Vanessa called from the window. “There seems to be something…unusual about to happen.”

  Jocelyn joined her at the window, with Addie Bourland stepping up behind her. She saw immediately what Vanessa meant. Walking slowly but purposefully right down the center of the dusty street were four black-garbed gentlemen looking identical with their black Stetsons, thin bow ties, and drooping mustaches, not to mention an assortment of lethal-looking weapons. Not so finely dressed were the five men in the vacant lot across the street who appeared to be waiting for them.

  “Lan’ sakes, this is it, the big one!” Addie Bourland said excitedly.

  “The big what?” Jocelyn inquired.

  “Showdown,” Addie said without taking her eyes off the street. “It’s been comin’ a long time now.”

  “Whatever is a showdown?” Vanessa asked the proprietress.

  The woman looked at Vanessa strangely for a moment, but then chuckled. “I thought you ladies talked kinda funny. You ain’t from around these parts, are ya?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. “A showdown’s a shoot-out. That’s Virgil Earp, our town marshal, and his brothers Wyatt and Morgan coming down the street. The one carryin’ the shotgun is Doc Holiday, Wyatt’s good friend.”

  “A doctor about to participate in a shooting spree?” Vanessa had never heard of anything quite so unethical.

  “He used to be a dentist back East, ma’am. He makes his livin’ now at gamblin’. Surprised to see him up and about so early in the day. He’s a night owl, that one.”

  “And the gentlemen who seem to be hiding in wait?”

  “Them no-accounts?” Addie snorted. “Rowdy troublemakers, every one of ’em. Thievin’ outlaws too. They’re members of the Clanton gang.” At Vanessa’s blank look, Addie clarified, “Ike and Billy Clanton, Frank and Tom McLaury, and looks like young Billy Claiborne’s with ’em today. You must not’ve been in town long if you ain’t heard tell of the Clanton bunch. They’re arch enemies of the Earps.”

  “Actually, we only arrived yesterday afternoon. But if, as you say, that is an official of the law out there, why should there be a showdown, as you called it? Isn’t it more logical to assume the marshal just intends to arrest those men?”

  “Oh, he might intend to, probably does intend to, but it don’t make no never mind. Those boys across the street wouldn’t be waitin’ around to get themselves arrested. Their waitin’ there means they’re plannin’ to shoot it out. I’d stake my shop on it, ’cause like I said, it’s been buildin’ up to this for a long time now.”

  Vanessa exchanged a glance with Jocelyn. Neither of them knew whether to take the woman seriously or not. It was true they had never before seen quite so many men sporting weapons on their persons in such a visible manner as here in Tombstone. Everywhere you looked in the town it was the same. But there must be a reason for this, other than to be prepared for a possible “showdown.”

  The four dark-clad gentlemen had nearly reached the vacant lot. Jocelyn watched in fascination as they pivoted, spreading out in front of it, their backs to the millinery shop. The five men on the lot spread out also in a half circle, facing them. There was a shouted order, something about giving up arms. It was ignored, and before Jocelyn realized what was going to happen next, the shooting began.

  She found herself yanked away from the window and nearly shoved to the floor by one of her guards, as were Vanessa and a protesting Addie Bourland. Jocelyn had no thought to protest, not after hearing at least one stray bullet strike the front wall of the shop. The shooting seemed like it would never end, though actually the terrible noise continued for only thirty seconds or so. She was not allowed to rise, however, until one of her men had ascertained that it was truly over.

  Addie had worked herself free before then and was back at the window, avidly counting bodies. “Looks like both the McLaurys got it, and young Clanton too. I ought to pity that boy. He couldn’t’ve been more’n sixteen. But his daddy was a bad ’un and raised him bad too, so what can you expect.”

  Jocelyn didn’t expect to be regaled with the gory details. Good Lord, was there really a sixteen-year-old boy dead out there?

  “I—I think we should return to our hotel,” she suggested in a shaky voice.

  “Best wait a bit,” Addie replied. “Ike and young Claiborne took off, but you never can tell. At least wait until the Earps leave the scene. They’re helpin’ Morgan up now. ’Pears to have taken one in the shoulder. ’Pears the marshal and Doc are wounded too, but they’re still on their feet, so it can’t be serious.�
� She chuckled then. “No, their wounds ain’t serious. They’re walkin’ away and the street’s fillin’ up with the curious. Think I’ll go have a talk with Mr. Fly. Looks like he seen the whole thing up close.”

  She had forgotten her order, but didn’t forget to give poor Sir Dudley a fulminating look for his unwelcome efforts to protect her before she sashayed out of her shop, leaving the door open behind her. The smell of gunsmoke intruded then, making Jocelyn sick to her stomach. Vanessa was positively pale and holding a scented kerchief to her nose.

  “I don’t know about you, Vana, but I don’t care to stay here another moment. Would you mind walking? It will take too long to fetch the coach.”

  Their transportation had been sent to wait inconspicuously around the block on Safford Street, but Vanessa was quick to agree to depart without it. Even one more second there was too long for her. And Jocelyn’s guard, ever diligent and attuned to her wishes without being told, was already stepping out of Mrs. Addie Bourland’s Millinery Shop to clear a path on the now crowded boardwalk.

  It was the sight of those red-coated figures that drew Billy Ewing’s attention from across the street. He had been jostled away from where he had stood staring down at the body of his short-time companion, Billy Clanton, bloody from both chest and stomach wounds, and it was all he could do to hold down the lunch he had finished not long ago. He needed a distraction, desperately needed it, and the figure he fully expected to see next would provide it, so he wasted no time in crossing the street, and was there when the two ladies joined their guard on the boardwalk.

  From the look of them, they weren’t used to seeing bodies lying around dead any more than Billy was. Both were pale, and the older woman looked close to fainting. Neither glanced across the street, though it was doubtful anything could be seen now with the crowd surrounding the bodies. It was obvious, however, that they knew full well what had happened, if they hadn’t seen it happen firsthand.

  Billy jumped up on the boardwalk as soon as he saw in which direction they were going, and refused to be shuffled aside by the two guards who led the way. Those two and the other four formed a tight circle around the ladies, and none of them looked too agreeable at the moment, making Billy wish he had Colt standing behind him. But Colt was only just now skirting the crowd on the vacant lot, leading their horses out to the street. Even if he saw where Billy had gone, he wasn’t likely to join him.

  When one of the guards got physical, picking Billy up by his shirtfront before he could get a word out, to set him out of the way, Sir Dudley, at the back of the group, stopped him. “Let him go, Robbie. He’s the gent was with that Thunder chap this morning.”

  Luckily for Billy, red-haired Robbie listened to his friend and immediately set Billy back on his feet. He even went so far as to smooth out the shirt he had wrinkled in his big fists, offering a grin in apology. The man was the largest of the guards present, nearly six feet tall and brawny besides, not someone a lean seventeen-year-old kid would want to tangle with under any circumstances. But Billy hadn’t been looking to cause a disturbance. He had simply wanted to meet the duchess, hoping that a few words with her would help to wipe out the lingering image of death from his mind. Unfortunately, he hadn’t stopped to consider her own upset, and that this was not the time to stop for a friendly chat, even if she would deign to speak to him.

  She did speak to him, however, not so distracted that she hadn’t heard Dudley’s remarks. “So you are a friend of Mr. Thunder’s?”

  The two front guards had instantly moved aside so she could step up to Billy. Seen close, she was even more beautiful than he had thought. Those eyes were something else, so light a green they almost glowed. It registered in his mind that a much darker green silk molded over delicate curves on a lithe figure, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. And several long moments passed before he recalled that she had asked him something.

  “I don’t know that ‘friend’ is the appropriate word, Lady Fleming. I’m Colt’s brother.”

  “Brother!” she said with surprise. “But you don’t look anything like him. Are you a half-breed too?”

  Billy almost laughed. Folks in the West wouldn’t ask that question. They took it for granted they would know one if they saw one, and whether a man was a half-breed or not, if he was thought one, he might as well be one.

  “No, ma’am,” Billy answered her, surprised to find he had dropped the abbreviated speech he picked up each time he came west, his Eastern schooling coming through in response to her own cultured tones. “Colt and I share the same father, but not the same mother.”

  “Then it would be his mother who is Cheyenne,” she remarked more to herself. “Yes, he must take after her. But then you both have blue eyes, though not quite the same…Forgive me. I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

  Billy grinned at the slight blush that came to her cheeks when she realized she had been rambling. “Not at all, ma’am. And Colt inherited his eyes from one of our father’s ancestors, since Thomas Blair had eyes of turquoise himself, I’m told. Jessie is the only one who took after him in coloring, in both hair and eyes.”

  “Jessie…yes, your brother mentioned her to me when we met yesterday. But if you don’t mind my asking, what do you mean you were told about your father’s eyes? How could you not know?”

  “My mother left him before I was born, so I was raised back East. I was half grown before I even knew about him, or that I had an older sister. And it was still a few more years before I found out I had a half brother too. None of us were raised together, you see. Jessie was raised by our father on a cattle ranch in Wyoming, Colt grew up with his mother’s people in the Northern Plains, and I lived in a mansion in Chicago. The whys of all that are kind of complicated.”

  “That is all very fascinating, young man,” Vanessa commented at this point, “and I don’t mean to be rude, but we are in a bit of a hurry to leave this…this location. The duchess, I am sure, will be delighted to continue this conversation, but in quieter surroundings. You may accompany us, if you like, back to our hotel—”

  “Much as I would enjoy that, ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t. Colt’s waiting for me”—his quick glance across the street said where Colt was waiting—“and, well, I just wanted to explain about his behavior this morning and let you know it had nothing to do with you personally, Lady Fleming. He has these set ideas, you see, and…”

  Billy’s words trailed off, for the lady was no longer listening to him. She had followed his look across the street and was still looking there, staring at Colt, who was likewise staring at her. But it was obvious he wasn’t going to do anything more than that. He didn’t nod to acknowledge her, didn’t move a muscle, just stood there holding the horses’ reins, patiently waiting for Billy to finish his socializing and join him. Patiently? Not likely. Colt was probably furious. You just couldn’t tell it by looking at him.

  “He’s not leaving town, is he?”

  It wasn’t hard for her to have drawn that conclusion, with both horses Colt was leading packed for traveling. The alarm in her voice and expression took Billy by surprise, however. He couldn’t figure out what possible interest a woman like this could have in someone like Colt. She barely knew him, certainly not enough to generate such concern.

  Billy grew uncomfortable, knowing the answer he had to give, and guessing the reaction it would bring. “Colt doesn’t like towns much, ma’am, especially those he doesn’t know. He only came to this one to find me, and now that he has, he can’t wait to be on his way. We would have been gone already if my horse hadn’t thrown a shoe.”

  “Mr. Thunder has the right idea,” Vanessa remarked. “I’m all for leaving this town myself—immediately.”

  “We don’t have a guide yet,” the duchess replied absently to her friend.

  “Where were you heading, ma’am, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Jocelyn hesitated only a moment before saying, “Wyoming,” and Billy wasn’t the only one surprised by that answ
er. But he was the only one to comment on it, and without the least suspicion.

  “Imagine that,” Billy said with boyish delight. “That’s our destination too, or at least Colt’s, since he hasn’t said yet whether he’ll be shipping me back home somewhere along the way or not. It’s too bad we can’t all…”

  He didn’t finish that thought, realizing just in time that he had no business inviting anyone along, especially not a woman Colt had done everything possible to avoid. But he had said too much as it was, and she pounced on the idea without giving him a chance to correct the mistake.

  “But that’s a splendid notion, Mr.—Blair, is it?”

  “Ewing,” he replied with a distinctly unpleasant feeling curling in his belly. “I took my stepfather’s name.”

  “Well, Mr. Ewing, you really are a lifesaver,” she rushed on. “I agree with the countess that we can no longer remain in a place of such violence. And it will take us no time at all to be ready to leave.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, you needn’t feel that we mean to take advantage of your good nature, sir. Not at all. Since we are in need of a guide, you must allow me to hire you and your brother for that purpose. I can pay you extremely well to make it worth your while to put up with us for however long it takes to reach Wyoming.”

  “But—”

  “No, no, you can’t refuse payment. I really must insist. I wouldn’t feel right about imposing, otherwise. So if you will meet us in front of the Grand Hotel within the next hour, we won’t delay your departure any longer than that. Until then, Mr. Ewing.”

  She passed by him with a nod of farewell and was gone before he could get another “but” out, not that one more would have done any better than the others. He was left standing alone on the boardwalk—and facing Colt across the street. Christ! What the hell had just happened? He hadn’t actually agreed to escort the duchess and her party to Wyoming, had he? But he hadn’t refused either.