Diamond (3 page)

“Hey, shiny girl,” Crockett Tolly yelled, “sing us a song.”

She smiled. Crockett was her favorite customer. And his teasing nickname was old business between them. He’d always told Johnny that giving her the name Diamond was probably smart because no one would ever have the money to give her real ones. She decided she might feel better if she fell into a routine, as if nothing had changed. She turned to Morton for the okay.

He nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to give her some leeway tonight. It wasn’t Saturday, but what the hell, if they wanted her to sing, she could sing. He didn’t care as long as they kept drinking.

Diamond retrieved the old guitar from a closet in the hall. One of the men relinquished his stool at the bar and dragged it into the small, empty space in the center of the room. She sat down and wound her long legs around the rungs of the stool, absently locking herself in place as she strummed keys and chords while tightening the strings to the proper pitch.

“Sing us your favorite,” one of the men called out.

The murmurs of agreement swept through Whitelaw’s Bar as the men settled down. They knew well the depth of emotion that Johnny Houston’s middle daughter could wring from a song, and having her sing her “favorite” was the only way they knew how to express regret for her loss without voicing the sentiment.

Diamond smiled as she bent over the instrument. Her thick, honey-colored hair fell forward, half hiding her face from the men’s knowing eyes. Her fingers strummed across the strings, touching tentative chords as she relaxed. And then as always, she took them unaware.

The song burst forth in the middle of a chord, her fingers catching up with the melody as the words filled the smoky room. And one by one the men fell silent and listened—until she reached the chorus.

“
Did you ever know that you’re my hero
….”

At that moment, every man in the room, including Morton Whitelaw, would have given a year of his life to have been the man in her song.

“…
and everything I’d like to be
…”

Her voice rang out—one clear, pure note after another, without any struggle for breath or timing, without pause for effect. Diamond Houston had forgotten everything but the song filling her heart and her soul.

Guided by the flashing red Christmas lights strung across the porch, Jesse pulled into the parking lot and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. Only a dive like this would use Christmas lights in the middle of July.

He still couldn’t believe he was here. He’d awakened a little after noon, eaten, filled up the car with gas, and backtracked to Cradle Creek without conscious thought.

She’d haunted him the night before. He’d tossed and turned, dreaming of green eyes and tall women and a voice that kept calling him home. When he’d finally slept, it had been out of exhaustion. And when he’d awoke, he’d known what he needed to do.

“Well, dumb ass,” he told himself, “you’re here. Now get out of the car and go find her. What you do after that is your own damn worry.”

He didn’t have far to go. It had been his intention to go into the bar and casually ask the locals for an address. But the moment he emerged from his car, he knew his search was over before it had really begun. That voice filled the night air…and his heart. His legs began to shake. It took all his strength to walk onto the porch and push his way inside. His sense of survival told him this might be the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but instinct told him he’d be sorry the rest of his life if he didn’t.

As Jesse entered, he dreaded the impact his appearance might make. He could have spared himself the worry. The place was packed, yet not a man turned at his entrance. They were locked in place by a woman and a song—and dreams of something better than, what life had dealt them.

Jesse Eagle leaned against the back wall and let himself be drawn into her world and her music. And when her voice soared, he felt unexpected tears beneath his lashes. He swallowed and stared as the sound vibrated through the air.

“…
fly higher than an eagle
…”

His stomach tilted. With a voice like that, she very well could fly higher than eagles, even one called Jesse. And yet he stayed, his gaze pinned to the curtain of hair hiding her features, anxiously awaiting the moment when she’d straighten. Then he could see her face, and those eyes, and know whether or not he was a fool.

Diamond sighed as the last note faded. It was habit that made her stand and turn toward the chair at the back of the room. The shock on her face was apparent. A soft gasp swept through the bar as the men realized what she’d done.

It had been Johnny’s practice to pass his hat after her song, collecting her tips as he coerced the younger men to pitch in extra, teasing them with promises Diamond had no intention of keeping.

But no one stood and started the applause that normally followed. Shock froze the assembly in place.

Jesse sensed the drama but was unaware of its cause.

“Hell!” one of the men muttered, then shoved back his chair and bolted toward the door. He’d rather face a cave-in at the mine than let these men see him cry.

“What’s going on?” Jesse asked quietly as the man walked past him.

The man looked back at Diamond. “Her old man always used to pass the hat after she sang. I guess she forgot he ain’t here.” He shook his head and walked away, unable to continue his explanation.

But Jesse needed no further explanation. Yesterday they’d buried the man who passed the hat.

He never knew what made him do it. Possibly it was the look of pain that came over her face as she turned and walked from the room. That and the fact that she never looked back.

He pushed himself away from the wall, yanked off his trademark black Stetson with the gold eagle emblem on the band, and started weaving his way through the tables.

“Come on now, boys,” he chided. “Cough it up for the lady.”

At first they were stunned. Some even scooted back in their seats, half expecting to see Johnny Houston’s ghost. But it wasn’t a ghost—it was a shooting star.

“Hey!” Morton Whitelaw shouted. “Aren’t you Jesse Eagle?”

Jesse put on what Tommy called his “famous face” and started working the crowd like a pro.

“Hell yes, I’m Jesse Eagle,” he said, and laughed aloud. “And I’ve just heard an angel sing. Come on boys, ante up. She deserves everything in your pockets, but I’ll settle for half.”

The room erupted. Everyone crowded around, trying to outdo his neighbor and stuff the most money into Jesse’s hat. They’d forgotten that the money was only going to one of the Houston girls. They were in the presence of fame, and for just a moment they felt the glory as if it were their own.

Unaware of the turmoil she had left behind, Diamond leaned against the wall outside as she fought down her rising nausea. Whitelaw saw her exit and followed. “Now, honey,” he said as he walked up behind her. “Don’t let it get you down. I’ll do all I can to help you.” His hands slid across her shoulders and started down toward her breasts. “If you’d just let me, I could…”

She slapped his hands away and pivoted toward him.

“Help? You want to help?”

The tremor in her voice should have alerted him, but it didn’t. He nodded when he should have run.

“Let’s see,” she said, choking on her words as fury enveloped her. “By help, you mean lowering the price you’ve been offering on our house for the past ten years. By help, you mean cheating three women who’ve just lost their father. By help you mean—”

“Now, Di, baby,” he began, “you’ve got to understand my position.”

“No I don’t,” she said, jabbing her forefinger into his paunch. “You’re the one who’s got to understand. And don’t call me baby!”

She leaned closer until all he could see was the green fire in her eyes.

“Our asking price has gone up, not down. You make out a separate cashier’s check to each of us in the amount of five thousand dollars, or I swear to God we’ll give the damned property to that Holiness Church in the next hollow. Then you can spend the next five years with a nest of holy rollers and their snakes in your backyard. They’ll preach the wages of sin to your customers until they’re blue in the face and you’re broke.”

Morton blanched. She was serious. He could just picture those cages of rattlers and the men who believed that snake handling went hand in hand with faith. He started to argue and then realized that the less he said, the better. Mad as she was, it would be just like her to up the price again.

“Okay now, girlie,” he growled, grabbing her by the arm. “You win, okay? But you can’t blame a man for trying.”

“I want the money by Saturday,” she said, unable to believe that he’d folded so easily. She’d pictured having to go home and tell her sisters that they weren’t getting five thousand dollars after all and that, instead, they had to give their house away to a religious congregation that had publicly reviled them and their father’s ways.

“Sonofabitch,” Morton mumbled. “That’s day after tomorrow.”

“Before noon,” she said. “The bank closes at 1:00. Oh,” she added, as Morton started inside, “I quit.”

He spit, glared, and stomped back into the bar, shoving his way past a man with a hat full of money.

Jesse hesitated outside the doorway and stared into the darkness, trying to find the owner of that voice.

“Are you there?” he finally asked.

“Depends on who you’re looking for,” Diamond answered, and drew back a little farther into the shadows.

She didn’t recognize him, but he had her money. That much she did recognize. And yet the longer she stared at the tall, dark-haired stranger, the more familiar he became. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d swear that he was—

“You’re Jesse Eagle, aren’t you?”

Her question was expected. The lack of excitement in her voice was not. It wasn’t the usual female reaction. Jesse was uncertain what came next. If she’d have asked for an autograph, or giggled, or thrown herself at him, he’d have known. But she did none of the above. She simply waited for his answer.

“I have your money,” he said. “Heard about your father. I’m sorry.”

Diamond’s stomach tilted. She stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch. “Thanks,” she said. “He died like he lived. Fast.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jesse repeated. “Accident?”

“Shock—I think,” she said, and then started to laugh. “He’d just drawn a full house.” Tears of laughter mixed with those of sorrow as she leaned against the wall and buried her face in her hands. “He had the rottenest luck of any fool gambler I ever knew.”

It was the laughter that did it. When she widened that beautiful mouth and smiled through her tears, Jesse felt his belly sliding toward his boot tops. He didn’t want to feel this attraction. He’d come to see a woman about her voice, not the rest of her life.

Diamond dropped her hands and let her head tilt backward. It hit the wall with a thump. She winced but relished the pain. She needed a good jolt of something to get her out of this funk.

“So, Jesse Eagle, what in God’s name are you doing in a dump like this?” Then she started to laugh again. “Excuse me, I think that should have been your line. You know the routine,” she added, catching the puzzled look on his face. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?”

He looked down at his hat, brimming with wads of bills and heavy with coins, then back up at her. “I came for you,” he said, and handed her the Stetson.

Diamond took the hat and two steps backward, sliding along the wall of the porch toward the darker shadows. It wasn’t far to the house. Lucky was probably inside, and Queen had to be home, too. If she yelled as she jumped they’d surely hear her. He wouldn’t have time to—

He saw her fear, and it made him angry that he’d been so completely misunderstood. He stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm just as she started to run.

“Dammit, lady, I didn’t backtrack across a hundred and seventy miles of pissant mountain roads to attack a total stranger. Who in blazes do you think I am, anyway?”

“I know who you are, but not why you’re here.”

Her answer silenced him. It was as good as a slap, any day. He ran his hands through his hair, but it only made it more unruly.

“Will you at least listen to what I have to say? Please?”

She shrugged.

He persisted. “Where do you live?”

For one long moment they stared, assessing each other. Diamond was the first to speak, and when she did, she was rewarded with one of the most beautiful smiles she’d ever seen a fully dressed man wear.

“Next door. I guess you can come over, but I won’t be alone. My sisters are home.”

He sighed with relief as he followed her retreat. “Good,” he muttered quietly. “The way I feel right now, we both need referees.”

His gut twisted as her hips swayed seductively with each long stride she took toward home. Her body was a study in rhythm and motion, and he wondered if she made love as slowly as she walked. The thought elicited a groan that made Diamond turn and glare, thinking he’d bumped into something in the dark.

“Watch your step,” she cautioned. “We don’t have homeowner’s insurance, you know. You fall and bust that pretty face of yours, you fix it yourself.”

He laughed.

Diamond frowned again. This was a man to be wary of. It didn’t seem to matter how rude she got. He never seemed to mind. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d swear he liked it. She opened the door and walked into the house, leaving him to follow at will.

“Queenie, look!” Lucky’s squeal at the sight of all that money in the hat was nothing compared to the glare Queen sent toward the tall, dark-haired man who followed Diamond through the door.

“Who’s he?” she asked.

Lucky’s second squeal was answer enough. “Ohmigosh! Jesse Eagle!” She tugged at her T-shirt and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her cutoffs, trying desperately not to giggle.

Queen stood up, willing herself not to overreact to the fact that a very famous man had just walked into their home. But she had an awful feeling about this man and his arrival. She knew what he did for a living. And she knew what a gift her sister had. Please God, not that—not now, she thought. She couldn’t face losing a sister, not this soon after Johnny. And then he spoke.