Angel killed in cold blood. I hope I know the differ-ence."
His lips thinned out, letting her know she hadn't appeased him. Angel was frowning now, too, at her allegation, but didn't care to argue with her about it with Colt there. Colt was too touchy by half about her. But he felt the need for justification. Cold-blooded, hell.
"Did you know about Dryden, Colt?" he asked, drawing his attention away from the duchess.
"Not everything, obviously," Colt replied brusquely. "When was he recruited?"
"When you all were laid over in Silver City. He agreed to bring the duchess to us, which is why there was no need to get close enough where you could spot us. They said he killed rich old widow women, after he married them. You blame me for taking him out?"
"I'd have killed him myself just for handing her over to you. Christ, I wasn't expecting that. I'd finally remembered where I'd seen him before, though. He was run out of Cheyenne a few years back for getting caught cheating at cards. I seem to recall there was a widow preparing for a wedding who was a mite upset at his leaving."
Jocelyn's eyes flared for a moment. "And you didn't bother to tell me that, either?"
"And ruin your little romance? I didn't think you'd appreciate that too much."
Was that jealousy snarling at her? The thought was so incredulous it… it dissolved instantly. Of course he wasn't. He was likely ticked off because he hadn't known all the facts about Dry den. But she'd had too exhausting a day to put up with his surliness another moment, or Angel's humor. That miserable wretch was grinning again!
"Bother this," she said in disgust, and tossed Colt's gun back to him before the temptation became too great. She ignored him then to address Angel. "Pro-tocol demands that I thank you for your assistance, sir, no matter how despicable the manner of it." He grimaced, but she wasn't quite finished with him. "So allow me to wish you a long and uneventful life — and may you drop dead from sheer boredom. Good eve-ning, gentlemen."
Without another look at either of them, she hooked her leg over the uncomfortable horn of Colt's saddle.
She didn't even try to locate the stirrup for support, since it was adjusted to his long legs, not hers. But the precarious perch didn't change her mind. She rode off.
Colt didn't move, prompting Angel to comment casually, "She's going to break her neck sitting that horse sideways like that." "It's the way she rides." "Not on a Western saddle, it ain't." Colt swore beneath his breath before he shouted, "Come back here, Duchess!"
Of course she ignored him. But he still didn't move to follow her. He let out a yipping yell instead, then waited to hear her give out a curse or two herself when his horse turned around. The horse did stop and turn, but instead of cursing, the duchess calmly slid off him. And then Colt heard that shrill whistle he'd heard once before but forgotten about, and was nearly knocked down by her stallion as the animal took off in answer to her call.
He cursed a blue streak then as he ran out to meet the Appaloosa on its way back to him, knowing full well hers would reach her first and he'd never catch up with that lightning bolt she called a horse. Angel mounted up in his own good time to follow, quietly laughing his head off.
Chapter Thirty-four
“I hope you know I aged ten years."
"I likely picked up a few myself," Jocelyn told the countess as she sank deeper into the little tub that had been brought to the room they shared.
"If only I-"
"Oh, Vana, please, please stop blaming yourself! No one could have known what a truly despicable man he was beneath all that charm. Colt didn't know what he was capable of, and he knew Dryden was no good."
"Well, I'm glad that nice Angel chap dispatched him, I truly am. He deserved no less."
"Nice? Angel?" Jocelyn choked. "That man—"
"Saved you, dear."
"At the expense of my peace of mind!"
The countess clicked her tongue. "Don't quibble means. It's the end result that counts."
"Colt was there," Jocelyn reminded her sullenly. "He wouldn't have let anyone touch me."
"But his friend didn't know that. His friend risked his life to get you out of there against great odds."
"His friend took me there to begin with!" Jocelyn retorted, having heard quite enough. "And, I might add, his friend never said he was his friend. Now, not another word about that wretched man. Colt had the right idea. He should have beat the crap out of him."
Vanessa's brows shot up, not only at Jocelyn's show of temper, but that word. "Crap?"
"I believe it means Angel wouldn't have walked away from the fight. You know, guts spilled and all that."
Vanessa's frown came quickly with the assumption that Jocelyn was merely being sarcastic. "That isn't funny, dear."
"I wasn't joking."
"Oh… well.. "
Jocelyn waited, but that last had definitely silenced Vanessa. She went back to working her sampler with short, jabbing stitches that would likely have to be redone later. Jocelyn relaxed into the little tub as well as she could and closed her eyes. It was the first chance she'd actually had to relax since Longnose had gotten lucky — well, almost lucky.
She didn't like remembering how close it had been this time, nor did she like having an image to bring to mind of that horrid man. But she had to allow Angel had been right in one respect. No matter how much it disturbed her to remember the Englishman's face, it was to her benefit that she could.
She had come upon her men that night shortly after the race to outdistance Colt had begun, but then she had almost expected that, since she realized with some surprise after she started that she was on the main road. Angel had been taking her back to her people all along. Colt had been right behind her, and although she had anticipated he would be furious enough to cause a scene, he had merely said to her, "Someone ought to do something about that temper of yours."
It was later that she learned Colt had been the only one to hear the shot that killed Dryden, which was why he'd been able to find her so quickly. Her men had gone out to search for her when she didn't return at the usual time, but they'd been forced to follow her trail into the hills first, and Angel was right again, there were no trackers among them.
Maura Dryden, or whatever her name really was, had disappeared by the time they got back to the wag-ons. Vanessa had assumed she had stolen a horse and left while it was still daylight, but she couldn't be sure. She and the other women had been too upset to take note. But it was concluded that Maura had likely panicked when Miles didn't return to report Jocelyn's supposed "accident" as he had planned to do. She must have assumed either that he had run out on her or that something had gone wrong. In either case, she'd been wise not to stay to find out.
Jocelyn wouldn't be surprised if she was hiding somewhere in Santa Fe, or perhaps back in that town they had avoided. She didn't think the woman would leave the area until she had learned what had befallen her lover. She didn't particularly care what became of Maura, as long as she never had to meet up with her again.
They had ridden straight for Santa Fe at Colt's sug-gestion, with only short stops long enough to rest the horses. It had not been pleasant sleeping in the coaches, but they had cut the time in half to reach the old town, leaving the Englishman likely still looking for her and Angel in the mountains. The rush hadn't really been necessary. He wouldn't attack with his small number. But it gave them the opportunity to lose him again. They could leave the trail now, take the railroad, or even let him pass them by.
But no decisions had been made yet. Jocelyn was hoping to discuss the matter with Colt, but the latest run-in with Longnose hadn't changed his habits. She hadn't seen him since it happened.