She couldn't help feeling a certain apprehension now, an anticipation of something about to happen, especially as she stared at the rigid set of Colt's back as he continued to lead them forward. It was still another half hour, however, before the tense waiting came to an end.
There was what could only in very generous terms be described as a hill in the near distance, and on top of the tiny mound sat six mounted riders. Jocelyn's front guards drew up the moment the small group was sighted, but when Colt continued on, she indicated they should follow. The strangers weren't identifiable yet, nor were they doing anything except sitting there watching the cavalcade's approach. If it was Longnose. well, Jocelyn almost wished it was. To bor-row one of the region's more colorful phrases, this was one "showdown" long overdue.
But no such luck. As they drew nearer the hill, it became clear that they were to be treated to their first sight of some genuine American Indians, but closer still gave an indication that these were not of the tame variety, not with so many cartridge belts in evidence, some used merely as belts, some crossed as bandoliers. Still, there was nothing to be truly alarmed about, not with so few of them. Her guard alone dou-bled their number. Even so, Jocelyn found herself holding her breath as the Indians began to descend their hill, slowly and in single file, and in a direction that would put them directly in the path the cavalcade now moved.
Colt reined in this time, and everyone behind him immediately followed suit. After a moment, Sir Par-ker moved up beside him and they shared a few words; then Colt rode forward to speak with the In-dians.
Pearson, who was driving the lead coach today, leaned toward Jocelyn to whisper, "I thought these blokes were supposed t' be skilled archers."
She could see what prompted the remark, since not a bow or an arrow was in sight. "These are modern times, Mr. Pearson. It's not surprising they've discovered the rifle to be a more handy weapon for killing— game."
"Game's a mite scarce in this area. Would they be wantin' some food or such, do you think?"
"That, or perhaps a toll for crossing their land," she replied with a good deal of relief. "Yes, that would seem logical, wouldn't it? What other reason could they. have.?"
Her attention centered immediately on Colt as he reached the Indians, who had lined up to face him.
Some words were exchanged, but the distance was too far for Jocelyn to hear any of them, and she could only wonder about the excessive use of hand motions between Colt and the Indian leader to emphasize whatever they were discussing.
Fortunately, it didn't take long. Colt yanked his horse about, and Jocelyn had already asked for assistance and was on the ground when he reached her. Unfortunately, his expression was so grim she was back to holding her breath again, at least until he had dismounted, took her arm, and led her a few feet away from the others.
"They want your stallion," he said without pre-amble.
Equally to the point, Jocelyn replied, "Sir George is not for sale, at any price."
"I didn't say they want to buy him, Duchess."
"But. you don't mean they're demanding Sir George in payment to let us cross this way?"
"No, I don't. TheyVe got no business in this area themselves. Those are renegade Apaches."
"As in the kind that 'raid across the border,' this side of the border?"
The hesitant way she said that almost made him grin. "Now you got the picture."
She sensed his condescension and her chin came up. "And if I don't choose to give them Sir George?"
"They don't usually ask before they take," he re-plied patiently. "They spotted us yesterday and could've made the attempt to steal the stallion last night. I think they've taken you folks for Easterners, the reason for this brazenness on their part. They're pretty confident you're scared out of your minds right about now and will give up the horse without a hitch."
"Are they indeed?" she snorted.
He did grin this time. "So what's it to be?"
"This is absurd," she said, glaring over his shoul-der at the group of waiting Indians. "What can they do?
We outnumber them more than three to one. And need I remind you I am also a skilled shot?"
He admired her gumption, but she didn't really know what she was dealing with here. "You ever kill a man before?"
"Certainly not," she replied. "Nor do I have to kill one to disarm him."
She said that with such confidence he didn't doubt it, so he said no more on that point. "Let me lay it on the line for you, Duchess. You can turn them away empty-handed and they'll go, but you can bet your sweet. they'll be back with reinforcements. A few days from now, a week, you won't know when, and it isn't likely they'll give warning either, since it's to their advantage to attack at night, when most of us are asleep. Then they won't just be after the stallion, but everything you've got, especially your lives."
"I won't give up my stallion, for any reason," she said with stubborn determination. "He's the future of my stud farm."
"Lady, it's not as if you need a business to earn your keep, is it? Or was I mistaken in thinking you're so rich money has little meaning to you?"
They were moving into dangerous ground here, if his tone was any indication. "Whatever wealth is at my disposal, life still needs meaning, Colt, and breeding the finest Thoroughbreds gives me that." It was why she had finally allowed Sir George to cover the three mares after she made twenty-one, because she had thought her wandering days were over at last. More fool she.
Suddenly an alternate solution occurred to her. "What if I offer them one of my mares?"
His brows shot up in surprise. "You'd do that?"
"I don't want to, but if it will keep them from attacking us at a later date, yes, of course I will. I won't risk my people needlessly."
He slowly shook his head. "It won't work. The leader of this raiding party has set his sights on the stallion. A horse like that would raise his prestige among his followers so much, he's willing to die to possess it. But I'll make a deal with you. If I can manage to send them on their way with you still in possession of all your horseflesh-"
"Do you mean to tell me you've had another so-lution to this dilemma all along and failed to mention it?"
"I guess you could say that. But I'm not doing it for nothing, Duchess. It'll cost you—"
"You can't be serious!" she gasped. "After what I'm already paying you—"
"— a filly from one of your mares. that is, if your stallion is the one that sired those they're pres-
ently carrying." N
For a long moment she just stared at him. There was some surprise that he knew the mares were already carrying her future breeding stock, when they weren't due to foal until spring. But mostly she was amazed at his gall. He couldn't just get rid of those Indians as part of his job, could he? No, that would be too magnanimous of him, the blasted blackguard.
"Is that your deal?" she asked tightly. "Those Apaches leave and bother us no more, and you get a mare from Sir George?" At his curt nod, she added, "Just how do you intend to get them to leave?"
"That's my business, Duchess. Is it a deal?"
"Since you leave me no other choice—"
"Good," he cut her off, impatient now. "Keep your men here, and I would suggest you and the other women stay in the coaches and don't watch."
Don't watch? "Don't watch what?" she de-manded, but he had already turned back toward his horse and didn't hear her, or chose not to answer. Whichever, she was annoyed enough not to ask again.
Slowly she walked back to the coach and was about to join Vanessa, who must still be sleeping since she had yet to inquire why they had halted. And then Jocelyn stopped, even more annoyed to realize she was doing just what Colt had ordered her to do.