Thunderclap turned away from the Englishman and looked below. The sight that met his eyes caused him to heave a sigh of contempt. There stood Prince Broken Eye, his arms raised, standing a few paces away from the rancher's shack. Behind him stood a stocky, bristle-headed paleface with a shotgun.
"An incompetent louse I reluctantly call my son," the big chief grumbled. Giving the Englishman a pat on the head in consolation for his sorrows, Thunderclap heaved his bulk purposefully down the hillside. "Broken Eye!" he bellowed in the Zuni tongue as he approached. "You idiot! What have you gotten yourself into now?"
"Hold it right there," commanded the paleface with the shotgun, holding his weapon aimed at Broken Eye with one hand while he snatched a revolver from his holster.
"Do not worry," Thunderclap said lightheartedly in English as he lumbered closer. "I am not armed."
"Who are you?" the white man demanded, leveling his six-shooter at the huge Indian.
"I am Big Chief Thunderclap, chief of the Zuni!" he boomed. "Ever hear of me?"
"Uh..." The paleface nodded cautiously. "Yeah, I think so. You're that one with the Confederate flag."
Thunderclap nodded proudly. "Yes." He allowed a wide grin to stretch his face and expose his teeth. But as he drew near, the smile faded. "That is my son you have there. What has he been up to?" His gaze narrowed at the prince.
Broken Eye glared straight ahead, his mouth clamped shut in a firm line.
"He's been tryin' to kill the poor ol' feller who lives here." The paleface jerked his head toward the shack and the sporadic shrill laughter of the old rancher inside.
Thunderclap glowered at his son. "How dare you attack a paleface!" he scolded first in English for the benefit of the white man, and then again in Zuni.
Confusion registered on the prince's face. "But, Father—it was your—"
"You hold your tongue, or you will lose it!" the chief roared. "HA! Then your new name will have to be Dumb Boy!" He threw back his head with hearty laughter.
Broken Eye scowled.
"Why'd your braves attack this place?" the paleface demanded. Neither of his weapons wavered from their targets.
Trying to overcome his fit of laughter, Thunderclap turned and wheezed, "Oh, I do believe this was a mistake! You see, we were on our way to fight the Apache—"
"With only a couple dozen braves?"
"Oh—" Thunderclap's eyes darted. "Well, it wasn't going to be a real battle—just a scrimmage, you see. We do that on occasion. Got to keep our fighting skills sharp." He laughed. "We may have gotten just a little sidetracked when this loco rancher started shooting at us. Anyhow, we busted up his place and scared off his horses and then—"
"What about him?"
"Him?" The chief hadn't noticed the body lying on the ground in front of the shack until now. It looked…messy.
"Yeah, your son." The paleface gestured with the muzzle of his shotgun.
"Oh." Thunderclap glared at the prince. "Right, him." He paused. "He's a naughty one. Never listens to the wisdom of his father. Nope, he always thinks he knows better. And he nearly got himself killed this time. Mayhaps this will be a lesson to him."
"I hope so." The paleface holstered his six-gun and lowered the muzzle of his shotgun a few inches. "Alright, you two can go," he said gruffly.
Broken Eye looked relieved, but at a stern glance from his father, he wiped his face clean of any expression.
"My son will be severely punished, never you fear," Thunderclap said in English. A furious fire burned in his expansive belly. "He has no idea."
Percy watched the Indian chief and his son until they reached the ridge—Thunderclap angrily scolding the youth in their sharp tongue all the way. As they rode off on their waiting ponies, Percy couldn't help wondering what the prince's punishment would be. Unlike the Apache, the Zuni weren't known to be troublemakers.
With a shake of his head, he turned to the bullet-raked shack and hesitantly peeked through a gap in the boarded window. He was instantly pleased to find Kate Carson and Guthrie's young friend alive, if not a bit the worse for wear. There was also another man—
"Howdy!" the old fellow crowed. One of his arms hung in a bloody sling, but it didn't slow him down any as he skipped over to greet Percy. "What's your name, sonny?"
"Uh...Percy." He leaned back warily. "You're Silas Carter, ain't you."
"Ha-HA! That's me! WHOOOPEEEE!" He jumped into the air and clicked his heels together. Then he said with a sudden, grim look, "Y'know, I wasn't sure we was gonna make it, what with all them Injuns attackin' and bullets flyin'. It was real scary, I'll tell you that much."
Nodding with a frown, Percy pointed at Kate and Clarence. "How're they doin'?"
"Yeah, they're gonna be all right. Conked themselves out is all." Silas bit his lower lip and shook his head. "It was close. But we made it. Real close, like a close shave you'd get at the barber shop—but with tomahawks." There was a faraway look in his eyes. "Think I might've soiled my drawers."
Percy backed away.
Clarence and Kate eventually came to, shaking their heads and groaning.
"You've got a hard head, Clarence." Kate grimaced, touching the back of her own with one hand.
"As do you, apparently." Clarence winced.
"Then I guess we're even." She heaved a sigh and looked around quickly. "Where's Buck and Silas?"
Clarence frowned, scanning the room as well. "I don't know." He turned and caught her gaze. "Do you suppose—" He swallowed as he whispered, "Do you think they are with the savages outside? Being...tortured?"
Kate paled and bit her lip.
Clarence resolved to look out the boarded window and rose to a crouched position. Slowly, he crept over and peeked above the window sill. The sky was turning a deep bluish-purple with dawn on the way.
What he saw caused him to let out a whoop of delight.
"Guthrie!" He whirled to face Kate and cried, "The savages are gone, Kate! And-and Guthrie's here!"
A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. "Quick, Clarence—help me up."
"Ho-ho! I shall carry you! Up we go," he grunted, lifting Kate in his arms and carrying her outside.
Guthrie stood with Percy and Silas a short distance away. The butler's usual stoic features were drawn as if he were overcome with sorrow. Percy seemed to be trying to tell him something, but as Clarence came outside with Kate, Guthrie's eyes widened, his lips parted, and he stared. Then he broke into a run straight for them.
"Kate! Master Clarence!"
"That's what I was tryin' to tell you, mister!" Percy called after him.
Arms wide, Guthrie took both Clarence and Kate in a strong embrace, holding them tightly as tears streamed down his cheeks. Clarence did a bit of blubbering himself, but for him, sadly, it was not entirely out of character.
"Guthrie," he gasped, burying his face into his beloved butler's chest.
"Master Clarence!" Guthrie was actually smiling. "And Kate!" He hugged them tighter. "I thought both of you were lost, for certain."
"Walter, you're all right," Kate said with relief, touching his cheek, rough with stubble.
Slowly, Guthrie released them, and they sniffed, drying their eyes.
Master Clarence started babbling excitedly about his adventures, and Percy and Silas came running up behind them, but all Guthrie saw was Kate. For the moment, he and she were the only two people on the planet. He steadied her by the shoulders and asked her about her wound. She smiled and shrugged it off, saying the bullet went straight through, and that Clarence had taken good care of her.
Guthrie smiled back warmly as fresh tears stung his eyes. She looked up at him, seeming to wonder at his expression. Her lips parted, and she was about to speak when he reached for his collar and unbuttoned it. She watched with curiosity as he reached down and withdrew a silver chain.
Her eyes widened when she saw his pendant, the half of the heart he'd worn since before she was born.
"Kate," he said hoarsely, touching her cheek. "Catherine…"