“This fling thinks you’re serious enough to take a train out here and invite you back to his summer camp.”
Amethyst stomped her foot. “That’s not how it is at all! I don’t love him.”
“I must just be a fling too.” Clark strode across the room toward his bed, peeling off his jacket. He wore the ensemble he’d ordered at the boutique: wilderness clothes that gave him that roguish air. Her heart skipped faster.
“You’re not a fling! You know I don’t flirt with everyone when you’re around.”
He tossed his vest onto a chair. “I’m sure he thinks that too. You’d best go refresh. You and Joseph will have to catch up before your seaside adventure.”
“I don’t want to go.” Her voice rose. “I want to stay with you, here in Hedlund. I want to get the inventions, help Eric. I want to see the Bromi.”
“I’m sure your beau won’t mind making you happy. Maybe he can take you to the Bromi.”
She stormed across the room to seize him by the front of his shirt. “I want Joseph to leave!”
“So I don’t know about him? We both understand this is a game. You go back to your home and party with your pretty Joseph. I stay here and hide from the army.”
“Bloody gears!” She jumped to clasp her arms around his neck and shove her lips against his. He remained steady, never teetering, and his lips softened. His hands rested on her hips, neither pushing her away nor pulling her closer.
She stumbled backwards. “You don’t make me want to keep flirting. Don’t you know what that means? I actually went off into the desert with you. Joseph is just whatever. You’re Clark. I gave you my virginity. I love you.”
He tipped his head as he stared at her. “I’m different. That’s what you love.”
She folded her arms as a chill crept over her skin. “Does it matter why I love you?”
Clark yanked her against his chest by the wrists and kissed her mouth, his tongue shoving between her lips.
She leaned into him, tipping her head up, moaning against his lips. “New Addison doesn’t matter. Joseph doesn’t matter. You do.”
“For now.” He bit her neck. “You admitted you’re a flirt.”
“It’s all a game we play. Everyone acts like that in the city.” She yanked on the front of his shirt to unfasten the buttons.
He caught her hands. “We don’t have that much time, sweetheart. Show me tonight how much you care.” He kissed her lips, a quick peck. “Let’s show your dear beau how much you’ve changed.”
Clark leaned back on the porch swing and crossed his ankles. Amethyst rested her elbows against the railing near him, her head tipped so she could smile at him.
She actually liked him. It wasn’t a passing fling, or a one-night hookup. She wasn’t a Tarnished Silver or a lost gang member. Amethyst Treasure, a lady of wealth and prosperity, admired him. More than that, she chose him and the dust and the quest over Gentleman Joseph. In the yard, Jeremiah showed him how to toss horseshoes.
“You need to flick your wrist.” Jeremiah bent his knees and crouched backwards. “Flick, toss. You need to get it onto the pegs in the grass.”
“Doesn’t this ruin the lawn?” Joseph still wore his suit, even though Jeremiah had stripped to his shirt and slacks.
“Grass grows back.” Jeremiah clapped him on the shoulder. Of course Jeremiah would befriend Joseph, but hate Clark. Clark chuckled. Penniless, wanted Clark had Amethyst.
“Let’s go for a ride later.” Amethyst twirled her hair around her finger. “Maybe we can explore more of these roads.”
“We could see more of the ranch.” Clark patted the swing seat beside him and she stepped back to drop beside him.
“Joseph will love that.” Georgette sat in a high-backed chair down the porch, her hands folded in her lap. “Were you thinking horses or steamcycles?” The emphasis on “horses” allowed no doubt which one she preferred.
“I don’t think Joseph would want to get dirty.” Amethyst jutted out her lower lip.
Clark scratched his arm as Joseph scowled at them. The man had ridden days to join her, and she outright snubbed him.
“Be nice,” Clark whispered. “He thinks he’s your beau.”
“I am being nice. He hates dirt.”
“So do you.”
“I’d love to.” Joseph’s words ground out as though his tongue were mechanical.
“Flick, toss.” Jeremiah let a horseshoe sail from his fingers across the lawn to strike the peg farthest away. It spun around thrice before settling into the grass. “That’s five points.”
Zachariah lifted a horseshoe from the rack near the porch and stepped forward. He’d also peeled off his jacket, but he’d left his army cap over his cropped hair. Poor boy. Did he feel as if he had no place if he didn’t participate in the army? Clark scratched the mosquito bite on his elbow. He should do something with him more; help him to feel as if he had a friend who wasn’t a mandatory soldier.
The military hadn’t helped his physique. His arms and legs stayed scrawny, but his belly strained the front of his trousers from indulgence.
Zachariah’s horseshoe hit the second farthest back peg. “Three points.” He grinned.
If Clark had been down there, he would’ve slapped hands with him. “Good job, Zach!”
Zachariah blinked up at the porch before pumping his fist, the grin strengthening.
“Your turn.” Jeremiah clapped Joseph’s shoulder again.
Joseph stared at the horseshoe in his hands as if he wanted to wrinkle his nose, but feared the act would offend. He drew a deep breath, took two steps forward, and sailed the horseshoe… off to the left, where it landed seven feet in front of the closest peg.
“Good try, my boy.” Garth exited from the house, wiping his forehead on a handkerchief. “That was an excellent first try.”
Joseph’s cheeks and ears burned red. “That was horrible!”
“Better than my first attempt. Don’t worry, my boy, this backwards little Out West game gets easier.”
Amethyst giggled. “At least it went somewhere and you didn’t just drop it on your foot. Remember the time you spilled your strawberry vodka on poor Mary?”
Clark stiffened. He might have won her for a while, but she and Joseph had a past. For all he knew, they might’ve grown up together.
Joseph grabbed a horseshoe off the rack and held it out to her. “Your turn, Miss Never Spills Her Drink.”
Garth coughed, but Amethyst rocked to her heels, snared Clark’s sleeve, and yanked him up. “We’ll all have a turn. You too, Mother.” Her hand slipped down Clark’s arm to interlace their fingers and she winked at him over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve played before, haven’t you, darling brother Clarky?”
“When I was working on a ranch for a summer.”
“Excellent.” She pranced down the porch steps with her skirt swirling around her legs. She grabbed a horseshoe, and her eyes widened as she staggered. “Bloody gears, this is heavy! How do you throw this?”
“Language, honey.” Garth coughed again.
“With your arm,” Jeremiah sneered.
Clark pressed against her back and held her wrist. “Let me show you.” He nudged her forward. “We stand at the line drawn in the dirt.” Jeremiah had scraped his boot heal to form it. “That’s it, now you need to extend your arm and draw it close. You’re not chucking it. Think of an easy throw. You want it to spin, not catapult.”
“I’ll show her.” Joseph clenched and unclenched his hands as if he wasn’t sure what to do.
Clark smiled at him. “I’m just her brother, chap. I’m sure she’ll still look to you for everything else.” Which wouldn’t include muffling her screams into his pillow late at night.
Amethyst rocked her buttocks into his hips. “Now what?”
“You release.” He stepped back, his fingertips trailing over her shoulder. “Remember, easy toss. You only want enough force for it to go, not for it to make a racket.”
She bit h
er lower lip as she tossed it. It sailed straight, but landed feet ahead of the closest peg. She tossed her head and stuck her tongue out at Joseph. “I got closer than you. Nah nah.”
“Amethyst,” Garth barked. “Joseph is our guest.”
Clark pressed his hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh. Zachariah met his gaze and chuckled.
“That was a horrible throw,” Jeremiah exclaimed.
“My turn.” Clark stepped forward with his horseshoe and released. It hit the farthest peg and spun down to rest on Jeremiah’s. “Five points.”
Jeremiah scowled. Clark wondered what Garth would say if he followed Amethyst’s example by sticking out his tongue. He hadn’t done that since he and Mabel were children.
Garth extended his arm to Georgette to escort her down the stairs. “If you all enjoy this, we can have special horseshoes designed with each person’s name. We can create quite a go of this.”
“It may not be my favorite game, sir,” Joseph said.
“Show me again, Clark,” Amethyst purred. Holding a new horseshoe, she backed against him. “It isn’t my favorite either, but I want to beat Jeremiah.”
Clark caught a glimpse of Joseph’s lowered lids and his skin prickled. Amethyst was supposed to be his sister—they couldn’t allow that act to slip.
fter two weeks, Clark remembered why he loathed ranch life. Each day followed the same pattern, unlike life on the plains. He woke up at dawn and took breakfast with the family, apart from Amethyst and Joseph who slept late—Clark visited her in her bedroom so she wouldn’t have to scurry back to hers when he rose. After breakfast, he followed Jeremiah around the ranch helping where he could, but Bromi slaves and hired hands did the routine work. The only jobs he found were odd and few between. Garth taught him parts of the finances so he could help with the bookkeeping, but his handwriting wasn’t refined enough. Sick of Garth’s hidden grimaces, Clark surrendered that. Target shooting with Zachariah proved entertaining, although Zachariah spoke little and acted as though he knew everything about pistols, despite the fact he missed more than struck the target.
Anytime Clark wanted to be alone with Amethyst, apart from at night, Joseph followed, so he invited Zachariah. The four visited the saloon, went horseback riding, and rode steamcycles—the first for Joseph, and Zachariah had little practice.
The most excitement came from snippets around town: “What happened to them Horan boys? Fellas just took off on their pa.” Clark waited for a whisper of murder, but people who knew the young men well must have thought them the type to skedaddle without word. What Rancher Horan thought of the matter never reached Clark’s hearing. Sordid gossip might have spiced the town a bit, but he wouldn’t have wanted it to bother Amethyst. Then again, she would have rolled right along with it and added some flavors of her own.
“We’ll throw a charity ball,” Georgette said at supper. “We’ll have to plan it for next month to give everyone ample time to prepare. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the dancing, Joseph.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I do miss the galas in the city. We’d have one almost every night.” He tipped his wine glass to Amethyst. She still fumed over being allowed water, milk, or juice, but never alcohol, so she nodded instead of toasting back.
“What charity would you like?” Georgette cut into her steak. “I’ve always preferred those balls since they assist others. They aren’t enjoyed solely by those attending.”
Sweet Georgette. No wonder she chose the desert rather than the city. She must’ve hated the socialites. From what he’d met of other gentlewomen, they preferred silks and caviar to noticing a beggar dying on the street.
“Bromi.” Amethyst’s head jerked up. “I want the money to benefit the Bromi plight.”
“Bromi plight,” Jeremiah repeated in a monotone.
She pursed her lips in a downturned smile. “Our dear brother Clark had to live with a Bromi tribe just to survive before we saved him. They were so good to him we should do something to pay them back.”
“The Bromi are wild and meant to be slaves.” Joseph fidgeted in his seat. He had to hate ranch life more than Clark. At least Clark kept reminding himself that staying there meant he was safe. Joseph had to be thinking about what he missed in the city and at his summer camp.
“Why ever should they be slaves?” Amethyst’s voice rose in a whine. Did she really want to help or did she want to cause unease?
“Because they need taming,” Joseph said. “Without civilization, they don’t know how to live. They run around naked.”
“They wear leggings and loincloths,” Clark corrected. “They have ponchos for at night. The women wear tunics.” The clothes weren’t called that in the Bromi tongue, but those at the table would understand what he meant. Why did people assume they were naked just because they chose to wear little covering?
“I’m glad the Bromi were able to help you.” Georgette leaned over to rub Clark’s knuckles where he gripped his fork. “Amethyst, that’s a wonderful suggestion. Why don’t you start the charity?”
Amethyst paled. “Start it?”
“Why yes. There isn’t one currently, but the Bromi shouldn’t be treated so horrendously.”
Clark glanced at the Bromi cook refilling Garth’s wine glass. The woman kept her gaze down. What could she think as she overheard the conversation about her people.
“Clark will help me,” Amethyst said. “He knows the best way to help them.”
He’d wanted to assist them, but until the settlers and ranchers gave them freedom, assistance would be futile. “We can offer them medicine, but they have herbs they use. They don’t need clothing, unlike what most people think.” Dig toward Joseph. “The best thing would be to help the Bromi keep their land. They’re driven farther into the plains each time a new ranch is built. Some Bromi do prefer living in towns, so we could give money to freed Bromi to help them establish themselves.” Free Bromi, those who had proven themselves “civilized” enough to live as they chose. Most of the freed returned to their tribes, or whatever was left. Some, who’d been slaves since childhood, didn’t know how to survive there, or chose to stay in town amongst familiar settings.
“People won’t want to support that kind of charity,” Jeremiah said before forking mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“They will if a Treasure starts it.” Georgette beamed at Clark and Amethyst.
At the Friday supper, two evenings later, Garth tapped his spoon against the side of his porcelain plate. Clark stopped daydreaming about what it would be like to drive Amethyst into a field, alone, and peel off her clothes to let the sun heat her skin. His lips would tingle when he touched her warmed flesh.
“I wish to congratulate Georgette and Amethyst on their excellent management of the charity ball,” Garth said. “Invitations have been sent and the menu is being prepared.”
Clark chewed on a boiled carrot, the cinnamon sprinkled on top making his tongue dance. Amethyst had whirled around the house listing off the excitement they would have. Music, dancing, an ice sculpture, an outdoor bar… Joseph had sat glowering from Garth’s smoking room with a cigar and glass of bourbon.
Amethyst lifted her chin and flashed Clark a smile. “This will be a wonderful event. You’ll never have experienced anything like it. It will put Donald’s party to shame.”
“I’m sure he hasn’t,” Joseph grumbled. “They don’t have many at mining towns or with the Bromi.”
Clark swallowed his carrot. “Thank you for suggesting to bring the Bromi to experience the ball.”
Amethyst choked on her rice, and Jeremiah stiffened. The Bromi would hate to come—looked at as slaves, forced into an awkward situation, embarrassed at doing the wrong thing when they didn’t understand. Joseph didn’t have to know Clark would never invite them.
“We can invite the nearest five tribes,” Clark continued. “There are only about one-hundred to two-hundred members per tribe.”
“Per tribe?” Joseph sputtered. “You can’t be serious, man. After all
the work Mistress Treasure and Amethyst have put into this event—”
Clark lowered his eyebrows. “I jest.”
“It would be a pleasant idea, but I’m not sure it would be the best for them,” Georgette said.
Clark met her gaze. “I agree.”
“Unfortunately.” Garth bowed his head. “I loathe interrupting conversations, but I was hoping to raise an option. Every summer, Jeremiah and I take a camping trip. Zachariah doesn’t always attend, and sometimes Georgette chooses to go. This year we could all go.”
Clark had seen fathers and sons take trips. They’d come to mining towns to “learn how the miners lived.” They’d visited “vacation” ranches and rented cabins for a weekend. Clark had found solace in a few of those, when they’d been unoccupied. The furniture had been elegant, since the cabins catered to those with wealth. They had toilets, although no working water system. He’d thought of them as fancy toilets.
“You mean Clark too?” Zachariah asked.
“All of us, son. Clark, of course. It’s time he joined us on family outings.” Garth inclined his head toward Clark. “There’s no reason Georgette, Amethyst, and Joseph can’t come along too.”
“Camping,” Joseph repeated. Color, which had been a reddish brown from being unfamiliar with the sun, drained from his flesh. “You jest. That’s for hunters and trappers.”
“We hunt and trap when we need to,” Garth said. “Western furs are in high demand in the east. I’m sure you own a few yourself.”
“Joseph is right,” Amethyst squeaked. “There wouldn’t be any…any…stuff.”
Clark rolled his gaze at her. “Dear sister. Donald took us camping.” Relieving herself on the plains and sleeping in an abandoned bank couldn’t be any worse than a luxury cabin.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “That doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”
“Shush, dear.” Georgette laid her hand on Amethyst’s shoulder. “It really is enjoyable to be that immersed in nature.”
Immersed in nature involved looking out a window at a flower garden. In New Addison city, many top floors of the buildings were roofed in glass to prove greenhouses of vegetables and flowers. The building managers charged money for guests to visit for the day, or the hour. It made a lovely retreat for flirting.
Treasure, Darkly (Treasure Chronicles Book 1) Page 21
