Malachite (The Jewels of Texas Historical Romance Series Book 5) (9 page)

“How did you three happen to be out tonight?” Millie asked.

“We thought it would be neighborly to pay a call,” Lavinia said as she helped herself to a thick slab of roasted venison.

Gladys nodded. “And see for ourselves if your new boarder looked like his father.”

“And how did you hear about my... new boarder?” Millie gritted her teeth. As if she didn’t know.

“I believe it was Effie who first mentioned it, wasn’t it, Effie?”

Before the deputy’s wife could say a word, Gladys went on, “And then that handsome young banker, Byron Conner, told us a bit more when we ran into him at Durfee’s Mercantile.”

As if on cue Byron came strolling into the dining room. “I thought I heard your voices, ladies,” Byron called. “I see I’m just in time.”

The women blushed and smiled, enjoying the fact that they were in the company of the town’s most eligible bachelor. While Byron offered his greeting, Millie was forced to make room for him at the table.

“Byron tells us you’re working out at the Jewel ranch,” Lavinia said as she slathered butter on a roll.

“That’s right.” Malachite noticed that the three little girls had grown silent, keeping their gazes firmly on their plates while they mechanically ate their food. Apparently they’d become accustomed to having their dinner interrupted by strangers.

“Byron also says you’re interested in catching Diablo.”

“Byron seems to have a lot to say about me.”

Across the table, the banker flushed.

“Is it true?” Lavinia demanded.

“It might be.”

The older woman glanced at her companions. “Then I think you should be warned. We have a very good reason for calling the leader of that wild herd Diablo. He is a devil. We believe that anyone who catches him will be cursed.”

“So I’ve heard.” Malachite smiled. “I don’t believe in curses.”

“Just so you know, Mr. Jewel. The people of Hanging Tree do believe. And we don’t wish to have Diablo’s curse brought upon our town and its people.”

“I’ll remember that as I go about my chores at the ranch, Mrs. Thurlong.”

That gave Byron the perfect opportunity to goad the man he saw as his rival. As he helped himself to a scoop of potatoes, he asked, “Doesn’t it bother you to take orders from Cal McCabe?”

“Why should that bother me?”

“Because his name isn’t Jewel and yours is. It would seem to me, if you really are Onyx Jewel’s son, you should be the one giving orders on the Jewel ranch.”

Malachite could see the trap Byron was trying to set for him. He chose his words carefully. “If Cal McCabe was good enough to run the ranch when Onyx Jewel was alive, why wouldn’t he be good enough to run it now?”

Annoyed that Malachite hadn’t taken the bait, Byron shrugged. “I’m not saying Cal isn’t up to the job. But if you’re half the man they say your father was, you’ve got to feel hobbled. I’m told Onyx Jewel never took orders from anyone.”

When Malachite held his silence, Lavinia said, in her most sympathetic tone, “It must be difficult living up to a man like Onyx Jewel. He was a legend here in Texas, you know.”

Malachite fixed her with a look. “I never knew my father. Until a short time ago, I never even knew his name.”

“How terrible,” she said with a sigh.

“Not at all. You see, that frees me to be myself. I don’t have to imitate him. I don’t have to live up to him. All I have to do is live my life, however I choose.”

“And how have you lived?” Byron asked.

“Yes, Mr. Jewel.” Gladys leaned forward expectantly. “Tell us about your life before you came to Hanging Tree. What was your mother like?”

“My mother was a Comanche. She was sister to the chief, Two Deer.”

“A... Comanche.” Gladys sat back, holding a lacy handkerchief to her mouth, as if she’d just smelled something foul. “I always knew there was something... different about Onyx Jewel.”

“Different?” Malachite bit off the word.

“He didn’t always conform to our ways,” she said imperiously.

“Did you live in a tepee?” Lavinia asked.

“And sleep in a buffalo robe?” Effie put in.

“Don’t Indians eat animal hearts?” Byron added with a smug smile.

Malachite waited a heartbeat before saying, “Yes. To all your questions.” He leaned back, enjoying their shocked reactions.

“But you’re... half-white,” Lavinia said in hushed tones.

“Really? Which half?” Malachite picked up his cup and drank.

Across the table, Millie was amazed to see how he was handling this intrusion into his personal life. How could these people, who thought of themselves as righteous, ask such impertinent questions? As though they had the right to pry. And how could he calmly answer them?

In an attempt to stop the barrage of questions, she said, “I think it’s going to snow soon. Don’t you agree, Lavinia?”

“Of course it’s going to snow, Millie. Winter follows autumn as surely as night follows day. Now, Mr. Jewel, about your mother...”

“Her name was Evening Star.” He met Lavinia’s look evenly. “And she was considered the most beautiful woman in the village.”

“Well, Onyx Jewel always did have an eye for the women. Even—” she wrinkled her nose “—Comanche women, it would seem. How about you, Mr. Jewel? Have you inherited that trait from your father, as well?”

Malachite glanced at Millie and saw how distressed she was by all this.

“As I told you...” He sat back, looking completely relaxed. But Millie could tell by the dangerous softness of his voice and the glacial stare that this was all a pose. He was about as relaxed as a panther stalking its prey. “I’m free to live my life as I please. Without the influence of my father.”

“Are you married, Mr. Jewel?” Lavinia asked boldly.

Very carefully he set down his cup and scraped back his chair. To Millie he said, “If you’ll excuse me. I have some work to see to. Especially if I’m going to hunt a devil horse.”

Before he could leave, Byron’s voice stopped him. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Malachite turned to study him. The look he gave would have frightened most men.

But Byron merely gave a sly smile. “Seems like we’ve struck a nerve, Lavinia.”

“Well.” Lavinia let the word hang in the silence. Then, with a look very like a cat that had just skimmed the cream off the milk pail, she said pointedly, “As we all know, Onyx Jewel had a woman in every town. And as we have recently learned, he had children in every town, as well. Some he knew about, others who were obviously unknown to him.” She glanced at her friends, then turned to Malachite. “It would seem you are a great deal like your father, Mr. Jewel. And it isn’t only a matter of your looks.”

She turned a bright smile on Millie. “This has been a lovely dinner. But I don’t think I have room for dessert. How about you, Gladys? Effie?”

“Oh, no. Thank you.” Gladys could hardly contain her excitement. She’d not only met the mysterious Malachite Jewel but seen a hint of something dark and dangerous in his eyes. That bit of gossip was enough to gain her entry into every house in Hanging Tree. And half the ranches beyond.

“What do we owe you, Millie?” Effie asked. “Will a dollar be enough?”

The two women followed Lavinia’s lead, pushing away from the table, preparing to take their leave.

“That’s... more than enough.” Pale and ashen, Millie scraped back her chair to collect her money and see them to the door.

As they exited, Byron walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Millie.”

Her eyes blazed. Anger was her only defense against the tears she was struggling to hold at bay. “Are you, Byron? Is that why you seem so pleased with yourself?”

“Millie.” His fingers tightened at her shoulder. “I don’t like to see you hurt like this. But if the man has secrets, isn’t it better that you know about them now?” His tone was scornful. “We all knew the man was a womanizer just like his father. Now that you know, you’ll be too sensible to join the trail of brokenhearted women a man like that leaves behind.”

“Thank you for your concern, Byron. And your trust. And now if you’ll excuse me...” She held the door and waited until he stepped outside. When it looked as if he might try to linger, she slammed the door and took a deep breath, prepared to return to the dining room and face Malachite Jewel. And pretend that none of this mattered.

But the truth was, it mattered deeply. Once again the seeds of distrust had been sown.

Onyx Jewel’s reputation with the women was legendary. It would seem that, despite all his protests, Malachite Jewel was indeed his father’s son. What other reason would he have to refuse to answer that one important question?

M
illie returned to the dining room to find her three daughters, free of their uninvited guests, awash with questions.

“Are you really going to hunt Diablo?” June asked excitedly.

Malachite nodded.

“But you heard Mrs. Thurlong,” May said. “He’s a devil. Anyone who catches him will be cursed.”

“What’s cursed?” June asked.

“It means bad luck.” April’s eyes were troubled.

“You mean like sickness? Or even... death?”

Her older sister nodded.

“That’s just a myth,” Malachite said firmly.

“What’s a myth?” May asked.

“A story to explain something mysterious.” Malachite brooded. “The people around here have worked themselves up over a wild horse. Now they want to blame him for everything bad that happens.”

“But what if Diablo really is the cause of it?” May asked.

Malachite shook his head. “He’s just a mustang. He’s not a devil.”

“You look angry,” April said.

“No. He looks sad.” May glanced up from her empty plate and turned wide eyes on Malachite.

“That’s because Mrs. Thurlong asked him about things he didn’t want to talk about,” April said with all the wisdom of a seven-year-old.

“What things?” little June asked.

“If he has a wife,” April said importantly. “Do you, Malachite?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Millie felt giddy with relief. And angry at herself for permitting such feelings.

“Is that why you’re sad?” June asked. “Because you don’t have a wife?”

He said nothing. But there was a look in his eyes that kept the little girl from asking any further questions.

“We should do something nice to make you feel better,” the little girl said gravely. “Like we do for Mama whenever she gets sad.”

“What do you do to make her feel better?” Malachite asked.

“Sometimes we give her hugs.” June started to rise.

“We can’t hug Malachite.” April’s voice was edged with big-sister command.

Little June dropped back into her. chair. “Why can’t we?” she asked innocently.

“Because he’s not our pa.”

“Oh.”

In the silence that followed, Malachite watched as both June and May remained seated and lowered their heads, digesting what their older sister had said. It was plain that April, though shy and quiet, was the acknowledged leader.

In the blink of an eye June brightened. “May we have dessert now, Mama?”

Millie walked to a sideboard, where she began to scoop bread pudding into bowls. She’d made it especially for Malachite, knowing it was his favorite. Now it suddenly seemed a foolish, frivolous thing to do. In fact, this whole celebratory dinner seemed to mock her.

She distributed the desserts, then sat down and picked up her cold cup of coffee. She was in such a strange mood she wasn’t even aware that it was cold.

“Do you want to hear about school, Mama?” June asked.

Millie forced a half smile to her lips. “I’d love to hear all about it.”

“Miss Pearl wrote some new words on our slates, and Gil and Birdie knew every one. May knew three of them. And I didn’t know any.”

“That’s all right. They were new words. You weren’t expected to know them.”

“That’s what Miss Pearl said. And she said by next week, I’ll probably know every one of them.”

“You see. That’s why you go to school. To learn.” Millie glanced at her middle child. “And you won the spelling bee, May.”

“Yes’m.” May was proudly wearing her ribbon around her neck.

“I’m so glad all your studying earned you such a nice reward. What about your sums?” Millie asked. “Did Miss Pearl check your slates?”

May’s eyes were bright. “I only had one wrong.”

“I had three wrong,” June admitted.

Millie set aside the coffee and struggled to pay attention. There was so little time to spend alone with her girls. She knew they missed these quiet times as much as she did. But the truth was, they required effort. Right now, her mind was still reeling. “I’m sorry I had so many wrong, Mama.” June looked momentarily shamed. Then she thought of something that lifted her spirits. “This afternoon Miss Pearl let me hold little Amber while she worked with Birdie and Gil on some ’rithmetic. And Miss Pearl said I was the best baby holder she’d ever seen.”

It was so like Pearl to find something to praise in each of her pupils. The he little girl was so proud Millie couldn’t help but smile. Her heart melted as she conjured an image- of her clumsy five-year-old struggling to hold a wriggling infant.

“I wish we could have a baby, Mama. One as pretty as Amber.”

Millie’s smile vanished. But before she could say a word, seven-year-old April said solemnly, “We can’t have any more babies. Ever.”

“Why not?” the little girl demanded.

“I don’t know. But it has something to do with Pa being in heaven.”

Millie felt the heat stain her cheeks when she glanced at Malachite. Needing something to do, she began to gather the dishes. Her three daughters followed suit, and soon the dining room table was cleared.

She looked up when Malachite walked into the kitchen and pulled on his cowhide jacket. “You’re going out at this time of night?”

“I thought I’d take Neville Oakley’s wagon back to him and return with yours.”

She nodded. She understood his eagerness to get away. Here in the house, she and her daughters were constantly underfoot. He probably had a need to be alone with his thoughts.

While the girls washed and dried the dishes, Millie prepared her dough for the morning and set it aside to rise.

A short time later, after going over their new words and their sums, she herded her daughters up the stairs to bed.

After slipping into their nightclothes, the three little girls crawled into bed and Millie heard their prayers.

As she bent to kiss them good-night, little June muttered sleepily, “Do you think Malachite is still feeling bad about Mrs. Thurlong’s questions, Mama?”

“No, honey. I’m sure by now he’s forgotten all about them.”

The little girl smiled. “Good. I don’t want him to be sad. I like Malachite. Good night, Mama.”

“‘Night, honey.”

As Millie made her way downstairs, she found herself thinking about what she had told her daughter. Perhaps by now Malachite had gotten over his anger at Lavinia’s impertinent questions. But she hadn’t. Those questions and his lack of response were burned indelibly into her mind.

She untied her apron and hung it on a peg, then made her way to the parlor, where she carefully banked the fire. Lifting the lantern, she returned to the kitchen just as the door was opened on a blast of frosty air. Malachite entered, his arms laden with firewood.

He deposited the logs on the hearth, then straightened. “The coffee is still hot,” Millie said. “And I left you the last dish of bread pudding.”

As she moved past him, he reached out a hand to stop her. “I wish you’d stay a minute.”

She flinched and drew away. “It’s been a long day. I’m really tired.”

“I’m tired, too,” he said softly. “But there are some things that need saying. Stay.” His tone lowered. “Please.”

Reluctantly Millie perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. Malachite removed his hat and coat and hung them on a peg, then crossed to the fireplace. For long moments he stared moodily into the fire, then turned to face Millie, one hand resting atop the mantel.

“You seemed more disturbed than I was by your neighbors’ questions.”

“They had no right.”

“That’s true. But they’re only asking what everyone else in town doesn’t have the courage to ask.”

“Or the gall,” she added.

He nearly smiled. It occurred to him that she was angry for his sake.

The thought was oddly comforting. “There are some in every town. Or village.”

Her head came up. “You mean your mother’s people were as rude?”

Now he did smile. “People are people. Good and evil exist in all of us. Some of the Comanche were accepting of me, for my mother’s sake. Others—” he shrugged “—not so accepting. I didn’t expect better here. Or worse.”

“You didn’t have to answer a single impertinent question.”

“That’s true. Are you sorry I did?”

“I’m not sure how I feel. But I think it will only make them hungry for more.”

“And you?” Though his tone was easy, the tension deepened. “Do you want to know more?”

“Not unless you want to tell me.”

There was a long, drawn-out moment of silence. He was hardly aware of his quick intake of breath. There were so many dark places inside him. Places he’d never shared with anyone. He wasn’t certain he ever could. But he sensed in Millie Potter a loyalty, a decency that were rare treasures. Perhaps...

“I may. Someday. Now I’d like to ask one more question. Do you share the town’s fear of Diablo?”

She thought about it a moment before nodding. “I know in my mind that it’s nothing more than a myth. But I can’t make my heart believe that. Every time something goes wrong and the rest of the town blames Diablo, I find myself agreeing. What other explanation can there be for so many problems?”

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

He wondered if she had any idea how lovely she looked in the firelight, her head bowed, her hands held tightly in her lap. Trying to rein in her agitation. Like a bird poised for flight. A beautiful, red-winged bird.

She felt her cheeks redden under the heat of his gaze. To cover her awkwardness she got slowly to her feet. “I’ll say good-night now, Malachite.”

“Good night. Thank you for the dinner. Even with the... unwelcome interruption, it was special.”

When she climbed the stairs, he remained where he was, staring after her. Letting old memories play through his mind.

Sleep, he knew, would not be a friend to him tonight.

* * *

Millie removed a pan of biscuits from the fire and began to scramble eggs.

Several times through the night she’d heard Malachite’s faint footfalls as he prowled the rooms. She’d smelled tobacco and pictured him in her mind, sitting quietly in front of the fire or staring moodily out the windows at the darkened sky.

Her own sleep had been greatly disturbed, as well. She hadn’t been completely honest with him. Though she knew Diablo was only a wild horse, she had heard the stories of his cunning, his courage and his fury at those who would capture him. Perhaps it would be best to leave well enough alone.

When she came downstairs she found all the fires started and a supply of logs on each hearth. The cow had been milked, the eggs gathered. Whatever demons Malachite had been chasing, they’d filled him with restless energy.

Now his door was closed. There was no sound from within.

Millie turned as April bounded down the stairs.

“You promised I could go to school today,” the little girl called.

“That’s right. As long as you’re feeling up to it. Are the others awake?”

“I’ll call them.” April hurried back upstairs.

Millie watched her go, then returned to her cooking. A short time later Birdie Bidwell was seated at the table as April, May and June made their way downstairs.

“Are you going with us today, Mama?” June asked.

Millie shook her head. “Rufus Durfee’s two sons, Amos and Damon, will pick you up and bring you home.”

As she began to serve their breakfast, the door to Malachite’s room opened.

Millie greeted him with a smile. “You’re just in time.”

“I won’t be eating this morning.” His eyes were dark and haunted.

Millie caught sight of the bedroll slung over his shoulder. Seeing the direction of her gaze, he said, “It’s time I headed into the hills to track the mustangs.”

“Where will you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Along the trail. Or maybe one of the line camps.”

The little girls watched and listened in silence.

For the sake of her audience, Millie kept her voice as cool, as emotionless as his. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“As long as it takes.”

“I’ll fix you some food to take in your saddlebags.”

He shook his head. “There’s no need. I want to travel light. I’ll catch what I need along the trail.”

She refused to be deterred. Within minutes she had biscuits and thick slabs of roasted venison wrapped in a linen towel. Forsaking her shawl, she hurried out to the shed.

His horse was saddled. He finished tying his bedroll, then glanced up.

“I... couldn’t let you go without something.” She approached slowly and held out the packet of food.

“Thank you.”

Their fingers brushed.

He turned away and made room for the food in his saddlebag.

She felt suddenly awkward and at a loss for words. She hadn’t come out here just to give him the food. She’d wanted a moment alone. But now that she was here with him, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. “I’m afraid for you. Afraid of the curse. Safe journey, Malachite.” Her breath plumed in the frosty air.

He touched a hand to her sleeve. “The People have a saying when they are departing. May only good spirits dwell with you until we are together again.”

“That’s lovely. I wish the same for you.” She shivered at the warmth of his touch. “Take only good spirits along on your journey.”

For the space of several seconds he stared at her, as though memorizing all her lovely features. Disconcerted, she started to turn away. He caught her by the arm and dragged her against him. She was too startled to react as his arms closed around her, pinning her roughly to the length of him. He lowered his head and kissed her with a thoroughness that left them both breathless.

Despite the chill she felt a rush of heat as she lost herself in the kiss. It spoke of hunger, of need, of deeply buried, primitive emotions. It hinted of pleasure and pain and dark, unexplored passion.

She felt the tightly coiled tension in him and was both frightened and exhilarated by it.

When at last he lifted his head and released her, she felt shaken to the core. She glanced up, wondering if he felt the same. But his eyes, dark, fathomless, gave away nothing.

He pulled himself into the saddle and, without a word, nudged his horse into a trot.