Malachite (The Jewels of Texas Historical Romance Series Book 5) (6 page)

“What’s that?” Byron asked.

“Bread pudding.” Millie set the coffeepot in the middle of the table on a square of folded linen.

“Why does he get bread pudding while we’re eating pie?” Byron demanded.

It occurred to Millie that Byron sounded exactly like a whining child. “Carmelita made it especially for Malachite. It was his father’s favorite dessert.”

She watched as Malachite took a bite, then closed his eyes. There was something else besides his face that he had inherited from his father. An ability to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

Seeing everyone watching him, Malachite turned to Millie. “I hope you’ll pass the rest of the pudding around. I wouldn’t want to deprive anyone of this fine treat.”

“Two desserts?” little May asked as her mother spooned bread pudding onto her plate. “We usually get this only at Christmas.”

The others laughed as they dug in to their special treat. Millie sipped her coffee and glanced at their happy faces. For some strange reason, it had begun to feel like a special occasion.

* * *

“I’m sorry we can’t stay.” Quent draped his wife’s shawl around her, then reached for his gun belt, hanging on a peg near the front door. “But with Beau in jail, I’ll have to get back there so Deputy Spitz can go home for a couple of hours.”

“Goodbye,
chérie
.” Ruby kissed Millie’s cheek. “It was a lovely dinner.”

“I owe you a lot more,” Millie said. “Come back anytime.”

She turned in time to see Byron remove his hat from a peg.

“I wish I could stay. But Farley Duke is stopping by the bank to talk about another loan to expand his lumber mill.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “Maybe I could come by later and pay a visit?”

Millie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Byron. I still have to clean up and then help the girls with their schoolwork. After that, I know I’ll be too tired to visit.”

“Ah, yes. Your motherly duties.” He glanced beyond her to the dining room, where he had left Malachite Jewel drinking a third cup of coffee. “Just remember what I said. You don’t know anything about that man.”

“I’ll remember.”

He thought about the kiss he had yet to claim. But she was already sweeping past him to open the front door. He stepped out into the cold night air.

Before he could say a word, she called a breathless, “Good night, Byron.” And the door was firmly closed.

A short time later Millie wiped the table and put away the last of the dishes her daughters had washed and dried. On a warming ledge, bread dough was rising. The air was redolent with the spicy biscuits she’d prepared for baking in the morning.

She removed her soiled apron and dropped it in a basket of laundry she would tackle tomorrow. Then she made her way to the parlor. Despite her weariness, she would be unable to rest yet. She still had to help her daughters with their schoolwork.

In the doorway she stopped. A fire was ablaze, and the three little girls were gathered around the hearth with their slates.

In a corner of the room, half-hidden by shadows, sat Malachite. On the floor at his feet were his saddlebags, their contents scattered about the floor. She couldn’t see what he held in his hands, but occasionally the firelight glinted off something she thought might be a knife.

At once, Byron’s words of caution leaped into her mind. What did she know about this stranger?

She pushed the disquieting thoughts aside. “All right, girls. Let’s get to your schoolwork.” Millie’s voice revealed her weariness. The thought of the long hour ahead made her want to weep.

She heard April’s spelling words and listened in silence while May read from her primer, helping occasionally when the little girl stumbled over a word. Then she called out a series of numbers to June and watched as her daughter dutifully finished her sums.

After checking her slate, she glanced up. “That was very good, honey. You only had two wrong. Let’s go over them so you’ll know the proper way to figure the answers next time.”

All the while she worked with her children she was aware of Malachite seated in the shadows, watching and listening. She could feel his dark, penetrating stare as surely as any physical touch. She almost wished he’d stayed out at the Jewel ranch. At least then she’d have some relief from this tension. But the truth was, she desperately needed the money he would pay her.

Sensing her discomfort, Malachite returned everything to his saddlebags and tossed them over his shoulder before taking his leave. A short time later he heard footsteps on the stairs. From upstairs came giggles and whispers as the three little girls slipped into their nightclothes, then climbed into bed and mumbled their prayers.

When the house grew silent he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the bed, then sat and slipped off his boots.

Barefoot, shirtless, he studied the wood carving he’d begun of a mother and her three little girls. It was crude, but already he had carved the outline of their heads. Tomorrow night, if there was time, he’d begin to refine it.

He rolled a cigarette and made his way in the darkness to the parlor. There he held a stick to the fireplace, then lifted the flame to the tip of his cigarette and drew deeply, emitting a cloud of smoke. He tossed the stick in the fire, then crossed to the window and stared out at the darkened town.

Here and there a lantern flickered in the window of a home or business. On the hill he could make out the glint of moonlight on the church’s bell.

It was a deceptively peaceful scene. But he’d had enough experience with places like this to know that beneath the calm, serene surface, there was probably plenty of trouble.

Funny. He’d sworn never to set foot in a town like this again. But here he was. And this time, he had no one to blame but himself. The choice had been his.

At the sound behind him he automatically spun around, his hand going to the gun at his waist.

Millie stood in the doorway, looking startled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to... I just wanted to...” She was already backing away.

“Sorry.” He returned his gun to the holster. “It’s just a reflex.” He couldn’t resist adding, to her discomfort, “Did you come downstairs to tuck me in, too?”

She stiffened her back and lifted her chin. In the darkness, he thought he detected little sparks shooting from her eyes.

The last thing she’d expected was to find him, practically naked, in her parlor. She couldn’t help staring at his hair-roughened chest, at the muscles of his arms and shoulders.

To cover her embarrassment she used her most formal tone. “I just wanted to bank the fires before I go to sleep.”

“I’ll see to them.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

“You’re welcome.” He wondered if she knew how desirable she looked in that prim, high-necked night shift. It was made of some gauzy material that clung to her body in a most provocative way, revealing the fullness of her breasts and the roundness of her hips.

What would she do if he kissed her again? The temptation was so great he stayed where he was, afraid if he took even a single step toward her, he’d be lost.

She swallowed, and the sound seemed loud in her ears. “I’ll say good-night now.”

“Good night.”

She turned and walked down the hall. For a moment there was no sound. Then he heard her light footfalls on the stairs.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her that lingered in the room. Then he turned to the window and studied the sky awash with millions of stars.

This wasn’t where he’d expected to be tonight. By now he’d figured to be halfway back to Montana Territory.

So why had he stayed? He knew it wasn’t because of his father. Onyx Jewel’s death had robbed him of any chance for vengeance. It certainly wasn’t the opportunity to know his father’s daughters, though there was a natural curiosity about them. As for belonging somewhere, he had his doubts. Though it had been a lifelong dream of his, he figured it was too late for that.

It was the mustangs, he knew. Nothing stirred his blood like the opportunity to be around horses. Especially a stallion that generated so much fear.

His eyes narrowed. Who was he kidding? The real reason that he was staying in this godforsaken town was the woman upstairs. The moment he’d seen Millie Potter, with that cloud of red hair and those eyes that were bluer than a Texas bluebell, he’d been lost.

He could still see her the night he’d arrived with fire in his eyes, itching for a fight. While the rest of the household had practically fainted at the sight of him, she’d stood up to him, those small hands fisted at her hips, ready to do battle.

Underneath that sweet, docile face she showed to others was grit and determination and fire.

Firewoman. That would have been her Comanche name. That was the name he would secretly carry in his heart whenever he thought about her. And it was a good bet he would do a great deal of thinking about her in the days to come.

He tossed the last of his cigarette on the flames before banking the fire. And wished he could bank the fire inside him as easily.

“A
pril,” Millie called from the foot of the stairs. “Breakfast is ready. You’re going to make us late. I’m driving the wagon again today.”

“April didn’t get out of bed,” June said over a mouthful of eggs. “When I asked her why, she said she was hot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Millie set a platter of sizzling pork on the table before she made her way up the stairs.

In the room shared by the three sisters, she sat on the edge of her oldest daughter’s bed. “What is it, April honey?”

“I don’t feel good.” The little girl’s voice was muffled beneath the covers.

Millie touched a hand to her daughter’s forehead. “You have a fever. Where do you hurt?”

“My tummy,” the little girl said.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Millie got to her feet. “You stay right there in bed. I’ll fix you some broth later. Would you like anything now?”

April shook her head.

Millie brushed the damp hair from her daughter’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a little while. As soon as the others are through eating.”

Just as she made her way downstairs, the back door was pushed open on a blast of cold air, and Birdie returned from her breakfast delivery to the marshal’s office. Malachite trailed her, carrying a load of logs.

“We won’t be going to school today, children,” Millie called.

“Why not, Mama?” May and June looked up from the table. Their disappointment was evident. Going to school was the highlight of their days. Especially on these bleak winter mornings.

“April has a fever. I don’t think it’s anything serious. But she can’t go to school, and I can’t take you or I’d have to leave her here alone.”

“But I know all my spelling words,” May said with sadness.

“And I have all my sums finished,” June moaned.

Malachite deposited the logs, then bent to add one to the fire. With his back to them he muttered, “I could take the girls. I’m heading out to the ranch anyway.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Millie watched as he got to his feet and turned to face her. As always, she was struck by the dark, brooding look of him. He had the ability, with just one look, to reduce her to a blushing, stammering child.

“It’s no trouble.”

She glanced at her two daughters, who were silently pleading, and at Birdie, who was watching her expectantly. How could she deny them? “All right. If you’re sure you don’t mind. When their school day is over, if you’re not ready to bring them home yet, they can stay with Carmelita until you finish your work at the ranch.”

He nodded, while the girls broke into wide smiles.

“Mama.” From upstairs came April’s plaintive cry.

Millie hurried away, then returned minutes later to fill a glass with water, before climbing the stairs once more.

As she sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed, a shadow fell over them and Millie turned to see Malachite standing in the doorway.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Your daughters tell me that April has suffered from these fevers for a long time.”

Millie nodded.

“I brought something that might help.” He held out a small packet.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her daughter cringe. “I’m... not sure. What is it?”

He took a step closer. “Dried herbs. My mother, Evening Star, was the healer of our village.”

“Herbs?”

At her hesitation he said gruffly, “A sprinkle of thistle, a handful of wormwood, a smattering of cow dung.”

“Oh dear.”

He opened the packet and sprinkled some in her glass of water. “I couldn’t help teasing. Don’t be afraid. They’re simple herbs. I promise you, they’ll help.”

Though April lifted pleading eyes to her mother, Millie held the glass to her lips. “It won’t hurt to try, honey.”

When she saw that she couldn’t win the argument, the little girl closed her eyes and drained the glass. When her eyes opened, there was a look of surprise in them.

“Was it awful?” Millie whispered.

“Not... not so bad,” she admitted after Malachite walked away.

Minutes later the others gathered in the doorway.

“I’ll take your slate to school so Miss Pearl can check your sums,” May offered.

“And I’ll ask Miss Pearl to write your new spelling words alongside mine on my slate.” June was not about to be outdone by her older sister.

“Oh, no,” April moaned. “I just remembered. I was supposed to take care of Amber today while Miss Pearl worked with June and Daniel on their new words.”

“Don’t worry,” Birdie assured her. “Gil and I can take care of Amber.” She was secretly pleased at the thought of working closely with Gil.

They fussed and fretted over April until Millie finally announced, “All right, girls. It’s time to go.”

They trailed her down the stairs. At the back door she kissed her daughters goodbye and watched as they climbed into the back of the wagon with Birdie. Malachite tied his horse to the back, then climbed to the driver’s seat.

With a wave they were gone.

Minutes later April moaned and called for more water. As Millie hurried to her side, she found herself wondering how many trips she would make up and down these stairs before the day ended. And just what herbs were in that packet of Malachite’s. Perhaps it was best if she never knew.

* * *

“Afternoon, Millie. Something smells good.”

Millie, stirring a pot of soup at the fireplace, whirled around, looking slightly frazzled. “Good afternoon, Byron. You don’t usually stop by for lunch.”

“I rarely have the time. But I thought it would give me a chance to see you alone.” He smiled and stepped closer.

Just then the back door opened and Arlo Spitz called, “Hope I’m in time for lunch.”

Millie gave him a smile. “Right on time, Deputy. Come on in.”

He snatched off his hat and headed toward a basin and pitcher of water on the other side of the room.

While Arlo washed, Byron frowned at this intrusion. When Arlo was done, he made his way to the dining room, leaving the two alone.

Byron studied Millie while she worked. “I’d like to talk to you now, Millie.”

“All right.” She lifted down bowls and began ladling soup. “Go ahead, Byron. What did you want to talk about?”

For long moments he stared at her back. Then, with a sigh of exasperation, he said, “It’s about your boarder.”

“What about him?” She set the bowls on a large tray, then began slicing chunks of hot, crusty bread.

“I hope you’re remembering what I said...”

“Afternoon, Millie.”

From the doorway came the sound of women’s voices. Millie looked up to see Jade and Ruby, arm in arm, beaming at her.

“How good to see you, ladies,” she called. “Make yourselves comfortable. Lunch will be on the table in minutes.”

“Can we help you with anything,
chérie?
” Ruby asked.

Millie shook her head. “It’s all done. Just sit yourselves down.”

The two sisters walked into the dining room, where they could be overheard talking to the deputy.

Millie returned to her tray and added freshly churned butter. “You were saying, Byron?”

He couldn’t hide his frustration. On a sigh of impatience he muttered, “Would you mind giving me your attention?” Her hand paused in midair. She turned slightly.

“I think it’s important that we talk about that mysterious half-breed you’ve allowed into your home.”

Millie’s eyes flashed before she turned and picked up the heavy tray. With her back to him she said, “I’ll remind you that you’re a guest in my home. And so is Malachite Jewel. If you ever use that term again, you will not be welcome.” She turned to face him. “Is that understood?”

He flushed. “I only meant...”

“I understand exactly what you meant. And now you understand me.”

She walked out of the room and into the dining room, where she began to serve her guests.

Just as she was about to take her place at the table, she heard April’s voice calling “Mama.”

Excusing herself, she hurried up the stairs.

“How are you feeling, honey?” She perched on the edge of the bed and touched a hand to her daughter’s forehead.

“Much better. But my clothes are wet.”

“That’s good news. That means your fever has broken.” Millie hurried away to fetch clean nightclothes and a cool, damp cloth, which she used to sponge April’s face and neck.

“I made soup. Think you could try a little?”

The little girl shook her head.

“Then try to sleep awhile. I’ll be back soon.” Millie bent and kissed her cheek, then hurried away to see to her guests.

In the dining room she poured coffee and passed around the last slices of apple pie and bread pudding.

“Did I hear one of your daughters?” Byron didn’t bother to hide his agitation. “Aren’t they all at school?”

“April’s not feeling well. She’s upstairs in bed.” Millie filled his cup before moving on to fill the others.

“Not feeling well?” Byron’s brows drew together, as if he were deep in thought. Then he said, “I suppose you should have expected it.”

“Expected what?”

“The curse to begin. First illness, then...”

“Not another word,” Millie said sharply, cutting off what he was about to say.

“You’re looking a little tired,” Jade said. “Maybe we ought to send you to bed, too, Millie.”

“I’m fine.” Millie flushed. “I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jade pressed her hands to her growing middle. “I only hope I can do as well when my baby comes. Oh my, Millie. I don’t believe I’ve ever had such an appetite. Everything you make tastes so good.”

“That’s because you’re eating for two,” Millie said with a smile.

“For three,” Ruby corrected.

“That’s right. Now you see why you have to eat.” Millie set a second slice of pie in front of Jade. “Go ahead. It’s just a tiny one.”

With a delighted laugh, Jade polished off another piece of apple pie.

“Thanks for lunch, Millie.” Deputy Spitz pushed away from the table. “I’d better get back to the jail.”

“I have to leave, too.” Ruby set down her empty cup and got to her feet. “I promised Lavinia Thurlong a new bonnet in time for Sunday’s service.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Jade got up slowly, clutching the table for support.

Millie walked them to the door, then returned to the dining room, where Byron Conner was still sitting at the table. He looked up when she entered.

“I can’t believe you’d let your daughters go off to school with a stranger.”

Millie began collecting the empty bowls and setting them on a serving tray. “How did you know Malachite drove the girls?”

“From the window of my office I saw them leave in your wagon. How could you do that?”

“Malachite isn’t a stranger.” Patiently Millie stacked the bowls, then added spoons, glasses, cups. “The Jewel family has been here in Texas longer than the town of Hanging Tree.”

“But Malachite’s only been here for days. And already you’re treating him like one of the family.”

“Byron...”

He held up a hand. “I’m only warning you for your own good, Millie. You’re far too trusting. Letting him into your home is bad enough. But trusting him with your children...” He shook his head for emphasis. “The fool has stated his intention of capturing Diablo. And we all know what that means. Those little girls are far too precious to trust to any passing trail bum with a curse over his head.”

“Oh, Byron. I just don’t have time for...”

“Mama,” came April’s plaintive voice.

Millie set down the tray and started out of the room.

Behind her Byron gave a hiss of annoyance. “And I foolishly thought I’d have some time alone with you.” To her retreating back he called, “I’ll let myself out.”

Millie made no reply. She was already halfway up the stairs.

* * *

Millie glanced out the window at the gathering shadows. The sun had long ago slipped behind Widow’s Peak, casting lavender ribbons across the sky. The air had grown colder, sharper, with a bitter wind blowing in from the north.

Drawing her shawl around her, she stepped out the back door and crossed to the woodpile. It had begun to drizzle. A cold, bitter rain that chilled clear to the bone. She shivered, thinking about her children out on such a night.

Minutes later, her arms straining under the pile of logs, she scanned the horizon for any sign of the wagon.

Malachite and the girls should have been home hours ago. Where were they? What had gone wrong?

Oh, why had Byron said those awful things? Now that he had planted the idea in her mind she was being tormented with images of all manner of terrible things. Malachite, dark and dangerous, fighting to the death with Diablo, equally dark and dangerous. As the images grew, Malachite and Diablo became one wild creature, rising up, knife in hand, the hand becoming powerful, deadly hooves that were crushing her helpless daughters.

Ridiculous. She was ashamed of herself for entertaining such thoughts. She shook her head in disgust and forced herself to keep busy. There were fires to tend, a table to set, food to cook.

“Mama.”

She had come to dread that sound. It seemed like a hundred times today she’d been summoned up the stairs for water, a cool cloth, a sip of broth. And as the day progressed and April’s fever had abated, she had become even more demanding.

“What is it, honey?” she asked as she stepped into the bedroom.

“It’s so dark in here. I can’t see.”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, April.” Dutifully Millie held a match to the wick of the lantern. Soon the bedroom was bathed in light.

“Where are May and June?” the little girl asked, as she had a dozen times.

“I don’t know. They’re late.” Millie turned away to hide the fear she knew would be in her eyes.

“But why?”

“It’s Malachite’s first day at the Jewel ranch. He probably had more chores than he’d anticipated.” She strove for a lightness she didn’t feel. “Can I bring you up some supper?”

The little girl shook her head. “I’m not very hungry.”

“All right. I’ll be back soon.” Millie descended the stairs and hurried to remove the apple cobbler from the hot coals. Then she busied herself in the dining room, stoking the fire, setting the table. As she arranged serving trays and filled a pitcher with milk, she found herself hoping there would be no additional guests for dinner. She didn’t think she could bear making polite conversation with her neighbors. Perhaps the rain would keep them all indoors for the night.