referred to as ‘the woman.’ It just isn’t done, sir.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Colt mumbled and did turn away this time. “Get rid of them, Billy.”
Billy didn’t know whom he was more disappointed in, Colt for his indifference to a genuine duchess—a gorgeous genuine duchess—or her man for his snobbery. “That wasn’t too smart, Mister…”
“Sir Dudley Leland, sir,” the redcoat supplied importantly. “Second son of the Earl of—”
“Christ, man, you’ve missed the point, haven’t you? You’re in America now, and if you’ll recall, we fought a war with your ancestors about a hundred years ago to get rid of class distinctions. Your titles might impress the society matrons back East, but they don’t mean a thing to a Cheyenne warrior.”
“Ah, right you are, sir. Apologies tended. But I’ve still one more message for your friend there.”
Billy glanced back to see Colt standing at the singlewindow the room offered, looking down at the vacant lot next to Fly’s Lodging House. There was nothing but an assay office beyond, no view to hold anyone’s interest, so he knew Colt had heard Sir Dudley. He just wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
“Maybe you better give me the message and I’ll pass it on,” Billy suggested.
Sir Dudley could see well enough that Colt had divorced himself from the conversation and so nodded. He was also aware that Colt could hear him quite well, but he still addressed the message to Billy.
“Her Grace anticipated both invitations might be declined. That being the case, my final instructions are to inform Mr. Thunder that Her Grace has asked, as he suggested, and has received a full report on the prejudices associated with his bloodlines. She wishes him to know that those prejudices are not hers and mean nothing to her. She hopes Mr. Thunder will take that into account and reconsider one of her invitations.”
That Colt didn’t turn around after that mouthful was proof that he wasn’t going to reconsider anything. Billy noted, however, that he was now gripping the windowsill, that his whole body had gone taut.
“I think you have your answer, gentlemen,” he said in a lowered tone. “You may inform the duchess—”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, kid,” came from behind Billy in a near snarl. “There’s no reply. Now shut the damn door!”
Billy shrugged at the messengers, as if to imply Colt’s lack of manners was not his own. But he didshut the door in their faces. And he calmly and silently started counting numbers, trying for fifty but getting no farther than ten before exploding, “That was the rudest, lowest, most outrageous behavior I’ve ever been sorry to witness. And deliberate too, I’ll wager. But why, for Christ’s sake? You know they’re going to report back to her, and…and that’s it, isn’t it?”
“You talk too much,” Colt said as he turned and reached for his gun belt.
Billy shook his head. “You know, I didn’t understand it yesterday, and I sure as hell don’t now. I got a good look at the lady and I felt like I’d been dropped through the boardwalk. She’s beautiful—”
“And white,” Colt cut in. He finished buckling the belt on and moved for his saddlebags at the foot of the bed.
Billy had gone very still, Colt’s behavior suddenly making perfect sense. And he hated it. He had never been able to deal well with Colt’s feelings of bitterness, feelings that went back to that painful time when he had almost died. Billy loved his brother, thought there was no man finer, more courageous, more loyal, and so it cut him to the quick when Colt belittled himself, taking the attitude of those ignorant, prejudiced whites who put him on a par with the scum of the earth.
“Did I miss something? I could have sworn I heard that the lady doesn’t give a damn what kind of blood flows in your veins.”
“She’s feeling beholden, Billy,” Colt replied in an even tone. “That’s all there is
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” Colt mumbled and did turn away this time. “Get rid of them, Billy.”
Billy didn’t know whom he was more disappointed in, Colt for his indifference to a genuine duchess—a gorgeous genuine duchess—or her man for his snobbery. “That wasn’t too smart, Mister…”
“Sir Dudley Leland, sir,” the redcoat supplied importantly. “Second son of the Earl of—”
“Christ, man, you’ve missed the point, haven’t you? You’re in America now, and if you’ll recall, we fought a war with your ancestors about a hundred years ago to get rid of class distinctions. Your titles might impress the society matrons back East, but they don’t mean a thing to a Cheyenne warrior.”
“Ah, right you are, sir. Apologies tended. But I’ve still one more message for your friend there.”
Billy glanced back to see Colt standing at the singlewindow the room offered, looking down at the vacant lot next to Fly’s Lodging House. There was nothing but an assay office beyond, no view to hold anyone’s interest, so he knew Colt had heard Sir Dudley. He just wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
“Maybe you better give me the message and I’ll pass it on,” Billy suggested.
Sir Dudley could see well enough that Colt had divorced himself from the conversation and so nodded. He was also aware that Colt could hear him quite well, but he still addressed the message to Billy.
“Her Grace anticipated both invitations might be declined. That being the case, my final instructions are to inform Mr. Thunder that Her Grace has asked, as he suggested, and has received a full report on the prejudices associated with his bloodlines. She wishes him to know that those prejudices are not hers and mean nothing to her. She hopes Mr. Thunder will take that into account and reconsider one of her invitations.”
That Colt didn’t turn around after that mouthful was proof that he wasn’t going to reconsider anything. Billy noted, however, that he was now gripping the windowsill, that his whole body had gone taut.
“I think you have your answer, gentlemen,” he said in a lowered tone. “You may inform the duchess—”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, kid,” came from behind Billy in a near snarl. “There’s no reply. Now shut the damn door!”
Billy shrugged at the messengers, as if to imply Colt’s lack of manners was not his own. But he didshut the door in their faces. And he calmly and silently started counting numbers, trying for fifty but getting no farther than ten before exploding, “That was the rudest, lowest, most outrageous behavior I’ve ever been sorry to witness. And deliberate too, I’ll wager. But why, for Christ’s sake? You know they’re going to report back to her, and…and that’s it, isn’t it?”
“You talk too much,” Colt said as he turned and reached for his gun belt.
Billy shook his head. “You know, I didn’t understand it yesterday, and I sure as hell don’t now. I got a good look at the lady and I felt like I’d been dropped through the boardwalk. She’s beautiful—”
“And white,” Colt cut in. He finished buckling the belt on and moved for his saddlebags at the foot of the bed.
Billy had gone very still, Colt’s behavior suddenly making perfect sense. And he hated it. He had never been able to deal well with Colt’s feelings of bitterness, feelings that went back to that painful time when he had almost died. Billy loved his brother, thought there was no man finer, more courageous, more loyal, and so it cut him to the quick when Colt belittled himself, taking the attitude of those ignorant, prejudiced whites who put him on a par with the scum of the earth.
“Did I miss something? I could have sworn I heard that the lady doesn’t give a damn what kind of blood flows in your veins.”
“She’s feeling beholden, Billy,” Colt replied in an even tone. “That’s all there is
Similar Books
