"What the hell is that?"
Billy chuckled when he saw what Colt was staring at. "The ladies' accommodations. They got it from a desert sheikh when they were traveling through the Arab countries over in Africa. You wouldn't believe all the places they've been, Colt. The stories they have to tell ought to keep us entertained all the way to Wyoming."
Colt gave Billy a disgusted look before dismount-ing. "Where'd your sense go this time, kid? I ex-pected to ride in and find a camp, not a damn village. Do you have any idea how many men it's going to take to cover an area this size?"
There were other tents besides the main one, not as large but big enough, and spread out all over the place, as were the vehicles. The only thing that had been done right was that the animals were contained together in an area downwind of the camp.
"Why don't you relax, Colt, and come have some of this dinner I saved for you? They have a French cook, you know, and I can safely say I've never tasted anything… so…"
The words trailed off when Colt swung around from unsaddling his horse with a dangerous look on his face. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, kid?"
Billy swallowed hard. He'd rather Colt shouted at him any day than use that soft, controlled voice. He was so damn unpredictable when the Indian side of him was dominant. Billy needed to pacify him and quick.
"They knew what they were doing, Colt. They're old hands at camping out. They had everything un-packed and set up in less than twenty minutes. And you forget how many men there actually are.
They've already got the watch covered…"
Again Billy's words trailed off. Colt had turned away to finish with his horse, but the very inflexibility of his movements spoke volumes. He was wound up tighter than a bowstring about to snap, and Billy finally realized the camp had nothing much to do with what was wrong with him, that it was only an outlet for the anger that couldn't be directed at its proper source. It was a good thing the "source" had already retired for the night.
Billy still couldn't quite believe that Colt was now working for the duchess. Those five little words, Take it or leave it, had trapped him but good. It was likely that half his anger was self-directed for having given the woman that option when it hadn't been his inten-tion at all. Fifty thousand dollars. Billy had nearly fallen off his horse when he heard that figure, but that was nothing compared to his shock, and Colt's, when the duchess accepted it.
It was funny now, after the fact; at least he thought so. But he knew Colt wasn't likely to find any humor in it — ever.
Colt might have a small fortune in raw gold that his mother had given him, but Billy doubted he had ever used any of it. Riches had no meaning for someone like Colt. He still lived off the land just as he always had. Jessie had failed to civilize him in that respect. He sometimes slept in the huge ranch house that Chase had built for Jessie after the old one burned down, and sometimes in the cabin he had built up in the hills overlooking the ranch. But most nights would find Colt's bed laid out under the stars somewhere, especially in warmer weather. And he had never worked for anyone before, not even for Jessie.
She had tried to teach him cattle ranching, but it was not something he wanted to do, so his heart hadn't been in the learning of it. What he had finally settled down to do was what he had always had the most skill with, horse training. He now supplied the Rocky Valley, as well as the other ranches in the area, with all the work horses they needed, animals that used to have to be shipped in from Colorado or farther afield. And the stallion he had given to Chase had won the annual horse race in Cheyenne these past two years, so his racers were now in high demand too.
But money still meant nothing to him. He caught and trained wild horses because it was something he enjoyed doing, not for the lucrative living it provided. Nonetheless, he understood money and the price of things. Jessie had rounded out his education in that respect. He'd gone on buying trips with her and Chase to Denver and St. Louis. And during his stay in Chicago he'd been in some of the finest homes, been dragged through some of the more expensive stores, seen firsthand the way the rich lived and played and what they spent their money on. He had been perfectly safe in believing that the fee he had named for his services was so outlandish, no one in their right mind would take it seriously, and that was his mis-take.
Oh, he had known the duchess was wealthy. That couldn't be missed. Her equipage, her quality horseflesh, her clothes, and the amount of people she already had in her employ, all shouted wealth.
What was incomprehensible, even to Billy, was the kind of wealth that made fifty thousand dollars a paltry sum not worth batting an eye over. Even Billy didn't know anyone that rich.
But even the rich didn't squander away their money frivolously, and that was exactly what the duchess was doing. Why? She might be eccentric, but she didn't strike Billy as being incompetent or crazy. Far from it. Was she just so spoiled that she couldn't tolerate being denied something she wanted?
That made no sense. What she wanted was a guide — or was it? It seemed more like Colt in particular that she had to have as a guide, even though he'd told her he wasn't for hire. He might be an excellent choice to get her safely where she was going, but so could any number of other men, men who would want the job. Colt didn't want it and had made that perfectly clear, but that didn't seem to matter to the duchess. So there had to be a particular reason why she had to have Colt working for her, no matter what it cost her, only Billy couldn't see it.
Neither could Colt, and he'd gone over it in his mind much more thoroughly than Billy had, and with more facts available to him. He knew that she'd first wanted him to go after her enemy. Being her guide had been her second offer. He wondered if she would have had a third if he'd agreed to meet with her earlier today. Likely. Did she think he was the answer to her problems? Didn't she know you couldn't force someone to help you? She'd bought herself a guide and that was all she was getting.
So why did it infuriate him that her camp was wide open to attack? Damned woman was going to get his protection whether he wanted to give it or not. But he wasn't going after her enemy. If she thought she could talk him around to it, she was in for a rude awakening.
And yet that couldn't really be the reason for such stubborn persistence on her part to have him along on this journey of hers. She could hire a dozen bounty hunters for the price she was willing to pay him. Or maybe she wasn't really willing to throw that kind of money away. Maybe she'd called his bluff with a bluff of her own and had no intention of actually paying up. And maybe he could get out of this mess by demanding the money up front — and look like a fool again if she just happened to have that kind of money lying around? Damned if he would. Once today was one time too many.
Colt dropped his saddle on the ground so close to the fire Billy was poking at that sparks went flying and the kid had to do some quick slapping at his clothes. Colt didn't notice. He was staring at that huge cream-and-white-striped monstrosity that stood less than twenty-five feet away, and he wasn't even seeing the tent, but imagining the woman inside it. Was her hair let down and loose again as it was the first time he'd seen her? Had she peeled off those fine, expensive clothes of hers and put on something — what? What did a woman like her sleep in?
Colt gnashed his teeth and turned back to his horse again. He would have much preferred that Billy not set up their fire near her tent, but it was done. He didn't expect to get much sleep tonight anyway, so it didn't really matter how near he was to her.
"I'll be back in a minute, kid. Get rid of that for-eign food. I'll make my own."
Billy started to protest, but wisely thought better of it. Colt had had enough forced on him for one day.