Savage Thunder by Johanna Lindsey
He finally caught sight of Fly’s almost at the end of the block and nudged his horse a bit faster. It was too much to hope Billy would have a room there, so he imagined the rest of the day would be taken up with his search. And with the way his luck was going, the search would probably take him through a number of saloons too before he was done, where the chances of trouble coming his way were always greatest. In his present mood, he didn’t particularly care.
Billy Ewing ran a nervous hand through his golden-brown hair before pouring another shot of the Forty-rod the Oriental Bar and Gambling Saloon served as whiskey, aptly named since you weren’t expected to get more than forty rods before paralysis set in. He was in deep shit and knew it, but couldn’t think of any way to get out of it without getting his head blown off. He had thought the Oriental would be the last place his new “friend” would show up, since Wyatt Earp was part owner of this particular establishment, and one of the things he had just discovered was the feud going on between the Earp brothers and the Clanton gang. But there weren’t any Earps around just now, and Billy Clanton, the youngest of the Clanton brothers and his new friend, had found him anyway.
How deceiving appearances could be, but how would anyone who didn’t know better have guessed that young Clanton, who couldn’t be more than sixteen if he was even that, was already a cold-blooded killer? Christ.
Billy had met Clanton in Benson, and upon discovering they were both heading for Tombstone the next day, they had decided to ride together. Billy had been grateful for the company of someone with knowledge of the area, even more grateful for the job offered him at the Clanton Ranch near Galeyville. He knew ranching thanks to all the summers he had spent up in Wyoming with his sister, and he definitely needed a job, since his money had just about run out. But his ignorance had really come through on this one. He had tried pretending he was something he wasn’t, hadn’t asked the questions he should have, and found himself hired on, not to a ranch, but to a gang of cattle rustlers and stage and pack-train robbers. The ranch near Galeyville was merely their headquarters.
A couple of miners who worked the Mountain Maid Mine and had seen him ride in with Clanton had smartened him up that very first night in town. Not that he was willing to take their word for it. But anyone he asked after that told him about the same thing. The Clanton gang had been operating in this area for years, and also clashing with the authorities in Tombstone because of it. They were still known by the same name even though Old Man Clanton, who had started the gang, had been killed a few months ago, leaving Curly Bill Brocius in charge.
Besides Bill Brocius and the three brothers, Ike, Finn, and Billy Clanton, there were other well-known members of the gang who were also well-known troublemakers here in Tombstone. John Ringo was one, known to have participated in the Mason County War down in Texas before joining the gang, and who had not long ago killed Louis Hancock in an Allen Street saloon. Frank and Tom McLaury were also members whose names came up frequently. And Billy Claiborne, another young glory-hunter, who insisted he be called Billy the Kid now that the real Kid was dead. Claiborne had killed three men already for laughing at such grandstanding, and Ike and the McLaury brothers broke him out of the San Pedro jail just the other night after being arrested for that third killing.
Young Billy Clanton had been involved in what was now being called the Guadalupe Canyon Massacre, which had led to his father’s death. Ewing had really heard an earful about that particular deed of the Clantons. The gang had attacked a mule train that was freighting silver bullion through the Chiricahua Range in July of this year, slaughtering the nineteen Mexicans leading the train. Old Man Clanton died a few weeks later when friends of the dead muleteers ambushed him and some of his gang as they were leading a stolen Mexican herd back through those same mountains. Young Clanton had missed that deadly encounter, even though from the reports, he had been rustling cattle since he was twelve.
This was who Billy Ewing had gotten tangled up with? He still couldn’t believe it. And he plain and simply didn’t know how to extricate himself from the situation. He had tried. He had told young Clanton he had changed his mind. But the allusions to cowardice and the way the kid kept resting his hand on the six-shooter he wore had made Billy rethink that decision. Next he had tried to just avoid Clanton. But he was supposed to head out to the ranch with him tomorrow. If he didn’t show up, would Clanton come looking for him? If he took off tonight, would the whole damn gang come looking for him?
“This place is dead, man. Whyn’t we try the Alhambra, or Hatch’s place?”
Billy glanced around at the crowded tables and bar, and at the casino area that was more than half filled with miners from an earlier shift. Dead? He was afraid his “friend” was just looking for trouble his last night in town.
“It’s early, not even near sundown,” Billy replied. “I just stopped in here for a drink before trying out the New Orleans Restaurant for dinner. Care to join me?”
He had made the offer only out of politeness, so he was glad to hear the answer, “Ain’t hungry, an’ you sure ain’t much of a drinker, are ya? Ya talk funny too, like some Eastern dude. Don’t know why I didn’t notice ’fore now. Where’d you say you was from?”
“I didn’t,” Billy hedged. “Does it matter?”
“Guess not, but…well, lookee here.” Clanton straightened up in his chair, his right hand moving automatically down to caress the handle of his gun as he stared at the tall stranger who had just swung through the batwing doors. “Ain’t ’Pache or Comanche, but I can smell Injun a mile off, an’ I sure as hell know a breed when I see one. Maybe this place’ll liven up some—”
“Oh, shit,” Billy groaned, and then again as he yanked his hat down low over his brow and sunk down in his chair. “Oh, shit.”
Clanton looked at him with a measure of disgust. “Ya know him, or are ya just scared of breeds?”
And they claimed his brother Ike was the loudmouthed braggart? Billy had had about enough of this Clanton, killer or not.
“Don’t be a fool, kid,” he hissed aside to the younger and much shorter boy. “He’s not your normal half-breed raised with the whites. That one was a full-fledged Cheyenne warrior until only a few years back. And since he left his tribe, he’s made a point of learning how to use that gun he’s toting. I’ve never seen anyone faster.”
The warning went right over his head, for Clanton considered himself pretty fast. “So ya do know him. He lookin’ for you, by any chance?”
One look at the kid’s grin of anticipation and Billy groaned again. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But he’s comin’ right to us.”
Billy chanced a look up and found himself stabbed with those blue eyes so much brighter than his own. If he could crawl under the table, he would.
“Colt,” he said miserably in greeting.
He didn’t get so much as a nod in reply, and Colt was no longer looking at him, but watching Clanton coming up out of his chair. Before the kid had even straightened fully, Colt’s gun was palmed and directing him to sit back down, which he did with eyes now widened and a good deal of color gone from his young face.
Billy stood up slowly, very slowly, but relaxed some when Colt put his gun away. Colt still hadn’t said a word, and Billy didn’t think he would, not in here anyway. But later…
The color was rushing back into Clanton’s face to show how angry he was at being bested so easily, but he didn’t make a move to get up again. Still, he didn’t keep quiet either, not when there had been witnesses, including Earp’s bartender, Buckskin Frank Leslie. Not a word had been said, but the breed had gained notice when he walked in, notice that was still on him when he had silently forced young Clanton to back down.
“Ya don’t have to go with him, Ewing, whatever ya done. Ya got backin’ now. When I tell my brothers—”
“Forget it, kid,” Billy said with a sigh, more relieved really than not, now that he realized Colt’s appearance had gotten him out of his pred
“Like hell—”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt there will be hell to pay,” Billy interrupted, his grin widening before he added, “He’s my brother, you see.”
Chapter Seven
Billy had had his fun. He wasn’t grinning as he stepped out onto the boarded walkway in front of the Oriental, waiting for Colt to back out of the swinging doors and step quickly to the side before relaxing his gun hand. Now he felt kind of sick to his stomach. Colt Thunder here? He didn’t even begin to hope it was a coincidence.
“Where’s your horse?” Colt asked curtly.
Billy grimaced, noticing the big-boned Appaloosa down the street in front of yet another saloon. “I walked from Noble’s Hotel, where I’m staying.”
“Come on, then.”
They were almost the same height, but Billy felt like he was tripping over his own legs trying to keep up with Colt as the taller man took off down the boardwalk. “I didn’t think she’d send you after me, Colt, I swear I didn’t.”
“You thought she’d hunt you down herself?”
“Of course not! I knew she’d write Jessie, and I guess I figured she’d ask Chase to find me. She always depended on him for help.”
“That was before he married Jessie. But he probably would’ve been elected if he was home at the time, only he wasn’t. And it wasn’t your mother sent me, it was Jessie. She had the dumb idea I’d have no problem tracking you.”
“I’m sorry,” Billy said lamely.
“Wait until I decide whether or not to beat the shit out of you, kid, before you’re sorry.”
Billy flinched. He wished he had seen Colt’s expression when he said that, but the man was still walking several paces ahead and hadn’t looked back to speak. He had little doubt he was serious, though. Which way he decided on the matter would depend on just how angry he was. But come to think of it, seeing his expression wouldn’t have told Billy the answer to that. You just couldn’t tell with Colt, not with his ability to conceal his emotions when he chose to.
The past years had been one surprise after another for Billy. He had been raised in Chicago by his mother, Rachel, and his stepfather, though he didn’t know Jonathon Ewing was only his stepfather. He didn’t know he had a sister either, until Jessie’s father died and Rachel went to Wyoming to be her guardian. He had been only nine at the time, and meeting someone like Jessie had been an impressionable experience. Her father had raised her like a boy, and she was running the ranch he had left her as well as any man could. She wore britches, toted a gun, and knew everything there was to know about raising cattle. Billy had worshiped her and was delighted when he learned she wasn’t just his half sister, but his true sister, that Thomas Blair was his father, too.
But Rachel returned to Chicago, taking Billy with her, and it wasn’t until a couple of years later that Billy got to visit the Rocky Valley Ranch again. In fact, he was there the day Colt first showed up, though he was called White Thunder then.
Billy had heard of him, of course. The Cheyenne brave had been Jessie’s closest friend for many years, though he had never been to her ranch before. But Billy didn’t know who he was at first, and after hearing about all the trouble the Sioux and the Cheyenne were causing at that time, seeing an Indian ride in as bold as you please was frightening, to say the least, especially when he was so obviously not one of the tame variety.
Half naked, with hair that flowed midway down his back, no, there was nothing tame about White Thunder—until you saw him with Jessie and heard him speak English. And not a clear and precise English, as you would suppose an Indian would be taught, but a Western drawl that was an exact copy of Jessie’s own speech, which wasn’t that surprising after all, since he had learned English from her.
Billy, at eleven, had been fascinated by Thunder just as much as he had been by Jessie. He hadn’t gotten to stay to watch his transformation into a “white man,” so he had barely recognized him when Colt came east with Jessie and Chase for Rachel’s wedding to Chase’s father, Carlos Silvela, less than a year later. But there was still something about him that had kept Billy from being able to relax completely in his company, even though he was open and approachable then. And Billy didn’t think that would ever change, especially since Colt was no longer easygoing, and hadn’t been since that trouble he had back in ’78 when he nearly died.
That was when Billy found out that Colt wasn’t just Jessie’s best friend, but her half brother, and Billy’s too; that Thomas Blair had fathered them all. Unfortunately, it didn’t make him feel he could get close to Colt, not the way Jessie was, anyway. Brother or not, Colt could scare him worse than ten Billy Clantons, without even trying.
As if Colt had read his mind, he asked, “Who was your hot-tempered little friend?” Billy answered without thinking and found himself pressed up against the wall of the saddle shop they were passing, Colt’s fists locked in his shirtfront. “You leave your sense back East, kid? I heard enough about that bunch before I was even halfway through the territory, enough to know they’re to be avoided.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Billy said defensively. “At least not until it was too late.” He was unable to meet Colt’s piercing stare when he added, “I sort of hired on, thinking I’d be doing ranch work.”
“You dumb sh—”
“For God’s sake, Colt, I didn’t know what I was getting into! I was running short of money.”
“All you had to do was wire home.”
“If I did that I would have to go home, and I doubt my mother is ready to see my side of things.”
“Whether she is or isn’t—shit, never mind.” He let Billy down, glancing back at the Oriental, but no one else had exited the place since they had. He continued on to collect his horse, tossing back over his shoulder, “Did you quit?”
“I tried, but you said yourself young Clanton’s hot-tempered. He didn’t exactly want to take no for an answer.”
“All right, forget it. If anyone wants to object to you leaving town, they can take it up with me. We’ll check you out of the Noble, and…”
Colt’s thoughts took flight when he spotted a teal-blue coach coming down the street in their direction, surrounded by a dozen mounted, armed riders. It was followed by another coach, not quite as large, and then still another. Bringing up the rear were three large wagons piled high with baggage and supplies, and being led alongside them, four of the most magnificent Thoroughbred horses to ever show up west of the Mississippi.
“Christ, what in the hell…?”
Colt only vaguely heard Billy’s question. It had to be the same question running through everyone else’s mind too, except his. All along the street folks had stopped to gawk, or were coming out of stores for a better look or leaning out of windows. What had to be half the children in town were running along beside the cavalcade, as if it were a circus come to town and they didn’t want to miss a moment of the excitement.
“I thought she’d have arrived long before now,” Colt said absently, his eye on that lead coach.
Billy looked sideways at him, as if he had said the moon was green. “You know these people?”
Colt recalled himself and stepped off the boardwalk to untether his horse, turning his back on the street—and her. “I met up with the ladies in that lead coach across the San Pedro. They’d gotten separated from the rest and their coach turned over, so they needed some assistance.”
Billy didn’t miss how Colt was deliberately ignoring the spectacle in the street. “Across the river, huh? What were you doing that far west of here?”
“I’ll follow a river anytime, rather than the roads. You meet up with less undesirables that way.”
Billy grimaced, the point taken. “So who are they?”
“The ladies are English. I didn’t meet their escort, but from the looks of them, they’re all foreigners.”
“I’ll say,” Billy remarked.
He was staring
“Hey, they’re stopping,” Billy said with some surprise.
Colt swung around and swore. “Christ, she wouldn’t—and in front of a damn saloon?” She did, and one of her guards even rushed forward to open the door for her. He caught a glimpse of that glorious red hair before he quickly mounted up. “That woman hasn’t got any more sense than you do, Billy.”
“Why? All she’s doing is getting down and…and I think she’s coming to talk to you.”
Colt refused to look at her again. His blood was already heating, just by his knowing she was only a few feet away.
“She won’t if I can help it. I’ll meet you in front of your hotel.”
Billy’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to wait and—”
“You know how these people will react if they see her talking to someone like me.”
Billy bristled, hating it when Colt degraded himself like that. “Maybe she could teach folks a thing or two about judging a man by his worth.”
Colt didn’t even bother to answer that. He jerked his horse to the side and took off down the street. Billy was left staring at the most beautiful redhead he had ever laid eyes on. She had stopped in the middle of the street, and the expression of keen disappointment on her face as she watched Colt ride away made Billy want to kick his half brother on the seat of his pants—not that he would ever actually dare, but he sure wanted to.