"Lan' sakes, this is it, the big one!" Addie Bour-land said excitedly.

"The big what?" Jocelyn inquired.

"Showdown," Addie said without taking her eyes off the street. "It's been comin' a long time now."

"Whatever is a showdown?" Vanessa asked the proprietress.

The woman looked at Vanessa strangely for a mo-ment, but then chuckled. "I thought you ladies talked kinda funny. You ain't from around these parts, are ya?" But she didn't wait for an answer. "A show-down's a shoot-out. That's Virgil Earp, our town mar-shal, and his brothers Wyatt and Morgan coming down the street. The one carryin' the shotgun is Doc Holiday, Wyatt's good friend."

"A doctor about to participate in a shooting spree?" Vanessa had never heard of anything quite so unethical.

"He used to be a dentist back East, ma'am. He makes his livin' now at gamblin'. Surprised to see him up and about so early in the day. He's a night owl, that one."

"And the gentlemen who seem to be hiding in wait?"

"Them no-accounts?" Addie snorted. "Rowdy troublemakers, every one of 'em. Thievin' outlaws too.

They're members of the Clanton gang." At Vanessa's blank look, Addie clarified, "Ike and Billy Clanton, Frank and Tom McLaury, and looks like young Billy Claiborne's with 'em today. You must notVe been in town long if you ain't heard tell of the Clanton bunch. They're arch enemies of the Earps."

"Actually, we only arrived yesterday afternoon. But if, as you say, that is an official of the law out there, why should there be a showdown, as you called it?

Isn't it more logical to assume the marshal just in-tends to arrest those men?"

"Oh, he might intend to, probably does intend to, but it don't make no never mind. Those boys across the street wouldn't be waitin' around to get them-selves arrested. Their waitin' there means they're plannin' to shoot it out. I'd stake my shop on it, 'cause like I said, it's been buildin' up to this for a long time now."

Vanessa exchanged a glance with Jocelyn. Neither of them knew whether to take the woman seriously or not. It was true they had never before seen quite so many men sporting weapons on their persons in such a visible manner as here in Tombstone. Everywhere you looked in the town it was the same. But there must be a reason for this, other than to be prepared for a possible "showdown."

The four dark-clad gentlemen had nearly reached the vacant lot. Jocelyn watched in fascination as they pivoted, spreading out in front of it, their backs to the millinery shop. The five men on the lot spread out also in a half circle, facing them. There was a shouted order, something about giving up arms. It was ignored, and before Jocelyn realized what was going to happen next, the shooting began.


She found herself yanked away from the window and nearly shoved to the floor by one of her guards, as were Vanessa and a protesting Addie Bourland. Jocelyn had no thought to protest, not after hearing at least one stray bullet strike the front wall of the shop. The shooting seemed like it would never end, though actually the terrible noise continued for only thirty seconds or so. She was not allowed to rise, however, until one of her men had ascertained that it was truly over.

Addie had worked herself free before then and was back at the window, avidly counting bodies. "Looks like both the McLaurys got it, and young Clanton too. I ought to pity that boy. He couldn't've been more'n sixteen. But his daddy was a bad 'un and raised him bad too, so what can you expect."

Jocelyn didn't expect to be regaled with the gory details. Good Lord, was there really a sixteen-year-old boy dead out there?

"I–I think we should return to our hotel," she suggested in a shaky voice.

"Best wait a bit," Addie replied. "Ike and young Claiborne took off, but you never can tell. At least wait until the Earps leave the scene. They're helpin' Morgan up now. 'Pears to have taken one in the shoulder.

'Pears the marshal and Doc are wounded too, but they're still on their feet, so it can't be serious." She chuckled then. "No, their wounds ain't serious. They're walkin' away and the street's fillin' up with the curious. Think I'll go have a talk with Mr. Fly. Looks like he seen the whole thing up close."

She had forgotten her order, but didn't forget to give poor Sir Dudley a fulminating look for his un-welcome efforts to protect her before she sashayed out of her shop, leaving the door open behind her. The smell of gunsmoke intruded then, making Jocelyn sick to her stomach. Vanessa was positively pale and hold-ing a scented kerchief to her nose.

"I don't know about you, Vana, but I don't care to stay here another moment. Would you mind walking?

It will take too long to fetch the coach."

Their transportation had been sent to wait incon-spicuously around the block on Safford Street, but Vanessa was quick to agree to depart without it. Even one more second there was too long for her. And Jocelyn's guard, ever diligent and attuned to her wishes without being told, was already stepping out of Mrs. Addie Bourland's Millinery Shop to clear a path on the now crowded boardwalk.

It was the sight of those red-coated figures that drew Billy Ewing's attention from across the street. He had been jostled away from where he had stood staring down at the body of his short-time companion, Billy Clanton, bloody from both chest and stomach wounds, and it was all he could do to hold down the lunch he had finished not long ago. He needed a dis-traction, desperately needed it, and the figure he fully expected to see next would provide it, so he wasted no time in crossing the street, and was there when the two ladies joined their guard on the boardwalk.

From the look of them, they weren't used to seeing bodies lying around dead any more than Billy was.

Both were pale, and the older woman looked close to fainting. Neither glanced across the street, though it was doubtful anything could be seen now with the crowd surrounding the bodies. It was obvious, how-ever, that they knew full well what had happened, if they hadn't seen it happen firsthand.

Billy jumped up on the boardwalk as soon as he saw in which direction they were going, and refused to be shuffled aside by the two guards who led the way. Those two and the other four formed a tight circle around the ladies, and none of them looked too agreeable at the moment, making Billy wish he had Colt standing behind him. But Colt was only just now skirting the crowd on the vacant lot, leading their horses out to the street. Even if he saw where Billy had gone, he wasn't likely to join him.

When one of the guards got physical, picking Billy up by his shirtfront before he could get a word out, to set him out of the way, Sir Dudley, at the back of the group, stopped him. "Let him go, Robbie. He's the gent was with that Thunder chap this morning."

Luckily for Billy, red-haired Robbie listened to his friend and immediately set Billy back on his feet. He even went so far as to smooth out the shirt he had wrinkled in his big fists, ofFering a grin in apology. The man was the largest of the guards present, nearly six feet tall and brawny besides, not someone a lean seventeen-year-old kid would want to tangle with un-der any circumstances. But Billy hadn't been looking to cause a disturbance. He had simply wanted to meet the duchess, hoping that a few words with her would help to wipe out the lingering image of death from his mind. Unfortunately, he hadn't stopped to con-sider her own upset, and that this was not the time to stop for a friendly chat, even if she would deign to speak to him.

She did speak to him, however, not so distracted that she hadn't heard Dudley's remarks. "So you are a friend of Mr. Thunder's?"

The two front guards had instantly moved aside so she could step up to Billy. Seen close, she was even more beautiful than he had thought. Those eyes were something else, so light a green they almost glowed.

It registered in his mind that a much darker green silk molded over delicate curves on a lithe figure, but he couldn't take his eyes off her face. And several long moments passed before he recalled that she had asked him something.

"I don't know that 'friend' is the appropriate word, Lady Fleming. I'm Colt's brother."

"Brother!" she said with surprise. "But you don't look anything like him. Are you a half-breed too?"

Billy almost laughed. Folks in the West wouldn't ask that question. They took it for granted they would know one if they saw one, and whether a man was a half-breed or not, if he was thought one, he might as well be one.

"No, ma'am," Billy answered her, surprised to find he had dropped the abbreviated speech he picked up each time he came west, his Eastern schooling coming through in response to her own cultured tones.

"Colt and I share the same father, but not the same mother."

"Then it would be his mother who is Cheyenne," she remarked more to herself. "Yes, he must take after her. But then you both have blue eyes, though not quite the same…. Forgive me. I didn't mean to go on like that."

Billy grinned at the slight blush that came to her cheeks when she realized she had been rambling. "Not at all, ma'am. And Colt inherited his eyes from one of our father's ancestors, since Thomas Blair had eyes of turquoise himself, I'm told. Jessie is the only one who took after him in coloring, in both hair and eyes."

"Jessie. yes, your brother mentioned her to me when we met yesterday. But if you don't mind my asking, what do you mean you were told about your father's eyes? How could you not know?"

"My mother left him before I was born, so I was raised back East. I was half grown before I even knew about him, or that I had an older sister. And it was still a few more years before I found out I had a half brother too. None of us were raised together, you see. Jessie was raised by our father on a cattle ranch in Wyoming, Colt grew up with his mother's people in the Northern Plains, and I lived in a mansion in