“Why didn’t you go back to Virginia after your husband died?”
“It was too late. Our families were all gone. Our parents were dead, the farm sold. Besides,” she said, “Hanging Tree is my home now. There’s no turning back.”
As she crossed to the door he took the bucket from her hands. “That’s too heavy for you. Here, you carry the eggs.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that she carried this milk pail every day of her life. But she held her silence, enjoying his gallantry.
At the back door he set down the bucket, then turned away.
“Did you forget something?” she asked.
“I thought I’d take your wagon down to the livery. See if the blacksmith can check my repairs. I’d like to make sure it’s safe before you use it again.” And to see if the smith concurred with his suspicions that the wagon wheel had been deliberately tampered with.
Millie was touched by his concern. “The smith’s name is Neville Oakley. Tell him I’ll stop by later to pay him.”
Inside, as she started breakfast, Millie found herself thinking that it had been a long time since she’d had someone to chat with while doing her early morning chores. It had been so pleasant the time had flown by.
“Mama.”
She turned at the sound of May’s voice.
“Why didn’t you wake us for school?”
“Malachite took the wagon to Mr. Oakley’s for repair. So it looks like you won’t be going today.”
The little girl’s face fell. “I know all my spelling words.”
Millie gave her a gentle smile. “That’s all right, honey. You’ll still know them tomorrow.”
“But I—”
They both looked up at the crunch of wheels. A moment later the door was opened and Malachite strode in. As always, Millie was struck by the way his presence seemed to fill a room.
“Neville Oakley gave me the loan of a wagon while he looks over yours.” He caught sight of May’s happy smile and paused to tug on one of her curls. “I was going to refuse, but I thought as long as I was headed out to the ranch anyway, you and your sister might want to ride along.
“I’ll wake June,” the little girl shouted as she raced up the stairs.
Millie watched her daughter disappear, then began nervously wiping her hands on her apron. “Thank you. That was very kind of you, Malachite.”
“Maybe I have some cold, calculated reason for doing nice things.” He took a step closer and watched the way the color sprang to her cheeks. He couldn’t resist touching a finger to the spot.
She forced herself not to back away. “And what would that be?”
“Maybe I’m just trying to impress you, so you’ll let down your guard.”
“I’d have to say your plan is working.” The feel of his work-roughened finger against her flesh caused an ache deep inside. She had to resist the urge to catch his hand and hold it to her.
“I’ve been meaning to give this to you,” he said as he reached into his pocket and handed her thirty dollars.
“You don’t have to...”
“I agreed to pay you in advance.” He closed her fingers around the money.
Just then the back door opened and Birdie hurried inside, her cheeks red, her breath coming in short bursts. Millie took a step back, putting some distance between herself and Malachite.
“Morning, Mrs. Potter. Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re just in time,” Millie said as Malachite turned away and headed toward the door.
“The air’s colder today,” he called. “I’m going to fork some straw into the back of Neville’s wagon so the girls can burrow in and stay warm.”
Millie watched until the door closed behind him, then sent Birdie off to locate some warm quilts to cover the straw. For a moment she studied the crumpled bills in her hand. Since Mick’s death, it was the most money she’d ever held at one time. As she shoved it into the pocket of her apron, she began mentally picking out warm winter coats for the girls. She couldn’t wait to visit Durfee’s Mercantile.
A few minutes later Millie was surprised to see April coming down the stairs. “Oh, honey. You shouldn’t be out of bed. How are you feeling?”
“I feel better, Mama. I’d like to go to school with May and June.”
Millie touched her daughter’s forehead. “Your fever’s gone.” Maybe, she mused, there was something to Malachite’s herbs. “But I really don’t think you’re strong enough yet to face that long ride.”
“But I don’t want to miss all the excitement,” the little girl cried.
“What excitement?”
“May and June and Birdie told me all about their adventure. It isn’t fair that I have to stay in bed while they go off and have all the fun.”
Again Millie found herself marveling that Malachite had reacted so calmly to their crisis that the girls thought of it merely as an adventure, instead of the near tragedy it had been. Or had Malachite planted that thought so they wouldn’t be afraid?
She drew her daughter close and pressed her lips to a tangle of red curls. “Oh, honey,” she whispered. “If you had asked May and June and Birdie how exciting all this was yesterday, while they were going through it, they would have admitted that they were cold and hungry and afraid.”
“Really? Do you think so, Mama?”
“I do,” Millie murmured against her temple. “It’s a sad fact that many of our greatest adventures in life seem more wonderful in the telling than in the living.”
April shivered and Millie released her. “Why don’t you run upstairs and snuggle under the blankets. Later, if you’re feeling well enough, you can dress and come down and sit by the fire. And if the fever doesn’t come back, I’ll let you return to school tomorrow.”
Satisfied, the little girl scampered away, and Millie turned.
She spotted Malachite standing quietly in the doorway.
“Your breakfast will be ready in a minute,” she called.
As he removed his cowhide jacket and wide-brimmed hat, he mulled over what she’d just said. Millie was right. The telling was easy. It was the living that required courage. Sometimes, more courage than any one person should need. And sometimes a body had to dig deep to find the courage within to survive what life handed out.
* * *
“Mama, how many places should I set?” April, freshly washed and wearing a white pinafore over her gown, looked rested. She’d spent the afternoon in front of the fire, reading aloud to her mother.
“It’s so blustery outside, I expect there will only be the five of us.” Millie hummed a little tune while she set the rolls aside to cool.
She’d planned a special dinner for tonight. She owed it to Malachite for the meat he’d given them and the healing he’d offered her daughter. Not to mention the other kind things he’d done since his arrival.
She had taken the money to Durfee’s Mercantile, where she’d bought new winter coats for her daughters, as well as sacks of flour and sugar and coffee.
She heard the crunch of wagon wheels and smoothed her damp palms down her skirt. She’d taken pains with her appearance, adding a clean apron and sweeping her hair into a neat knot.
“Mama, look.” May was the first one in the door. In her hand was a pretty blue ribbon. “I won the weekly spelling bee.”
“That’s wonderful!” Millie kissed her cheek. “I’m proud of you, honey.”
“She wouldn’t have won if April had been there,” June said as she hurried over to warm herself by the fire. “Everybody knows April’s the best speller.”
“It isn’t nice to spoil your sister’s moment.” Millie’s voice was soft, but her meaning was clear.
June hung her head and realized that she’d once again let her quick tongue get her in trouble.
Malachite entered on a gust of cold air. “What’s this?” he asked. “Something smells wonderful.”
“I made a special dinner.”
“What’s the occasion?” Malachit
e asked as he hung his jacket and hat on a peg by the door.
“Nothing special.” Millie watched as he rolled his sleeves and began to wash. “I just thought we’d enjoy the meat you brought us.”
“You can sit here, Malachite,” she said, indicating the head of the table.
May chose the chair on his left, while June sat on his right. Millie sat across from him, with April beside her.
“This is nice, Mama,” little June said, “having just us here tonight. Now May and I will tell you all about what we did in school today.”
“That’s fine, honey. I’d love to hear it. As soon as we say a blessing.”
Just as they bowed their heads, there was a quick, hard knock and the front door was opened. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Before Millie could even get to her feet, several faces peered around the doorway.
“You see, Effie,” came a high-pitched female voice. “We’re not too late for supper.”
Town gossips Lavinia Thurlong and Gladys Witherspoon stood framed in the doorway. Behind them stood Effie Spitz, wife of Deputy Arlo Spitz, who could always be counted on to furnish her two friends with news of everyone’s latest transgressions.
“Oh my.” Millie struggled to hide her disappointment. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out on such a night.” Clearly flustered, she motioned to April, who began scurrying around, setting additional places at the table. “Come right in, ladies.”
“Well.” Lavinia, tall and stick-thin, came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Malachite, who got to his feet.
Gladys, as round as she was tall, bumped into Lavinia and bounced backward, nearly knocking Effie into the wall.
The three women gaped until Lavinia managed to find her voice. “You’d be Onyx Jewel’s son. The news is all over town. I heard you looked like your father. But I wouldn’t have believed how much you look like him if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
Behind her, the other two women merely stared.
Remembering her manners, Millie said, “Malachite Jewel, I’d like you to meet Lavinia Thurlong, Gladys Witherspoon and Effie Spitz.”
He acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head. “Ladies.”
They found their places at the table, all the while studying the man who bore an eerie resemblance to one they’d known all their lives.
“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 c
ould 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?”
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