Millie felt the press of his hand and her heart soared. Those who went before us. With those few words Malachite had told her all she needed to know. Somehow he had found a way not only to put past hurts aside, but to use the past to build a bridge to the future.
Would his future include her?
She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes. He returned the look. And winked.
Seeing her daughters watching her, she felt her cheeks redden. Flustered, she said, “April, you may pass the platter.”
“Yes’m.” The little girl handed the plate to Malachite, who gave her a grin.
She’d had no intention of smiling at him. But the effects of the day, combined with the fragrances assaulting her, weakened her resolve. Immediately she felt guilty, as though she had somehow betrayed her father.
“How did you enjoy dressing up?” Malachite carved the duck and began serving it on their plates.
“It was fun.” As always, it was June who took the lead. “Mama said we looked like princesses.”
“Then that must be why she made a meal fit for royalty.”
“Mama’s the best cook in the whole world,” May announced with her mouth full.
“I agree.” Malachite tasted the duck, cooked to perfection, and his smile grew. “A woman who can cook like your mother is a rare treasure.”
“Is that like gold?” June asked.
“Yes. Only better. Lots of men find gold. But very few men find a woman as special as your mother.”
“My pa knew Mama was special.” April’s tone was defiant. “That’s why he married her.”
“Your father was a smart man.” Malachite broke open a steaming biscuit and dug into his meal.
April glanced at her mother, then at the man beside her, waiting for the familiar panicky feeling. When it didn’t come, she was puzzled. Maybe it was all this good food. Maybe it had been the relaxing, playful day.
“I don’t know when I’ve had a better meal,” Malachite said as he polished off his second helping.
“It isn’t over yet.” Millie lifted a pan from the oven and drizzled honey over the contents. As she carried it to the table, Malachite and the children breathed in the heavenly fragrance.
“What’s this?” Malachite’s smile grew as he watched her spoon the mixture into bowls.
“I believe you said it was your favorite dessert. Pumpkin, nutmeats and honey, with a sprinkle of spices.”
Millie watched as Malachite tasted.
“Well?” she asked. “Did I do it right?”
A slow smile of appreciation touched his lips. He caught her hands and pulled her close. And while the girls watched, he lifted her hands and pressed a kiss to each palm. “You do everything right.”
April saw the flush of pleasure on her mother’s cheeks and the look of love in Malachite’s eyes. And though just moments ago the pumpkin mixture had tasted like heaven, it now felt like ashes in her mouth.
She pushed away from the table and fled up the stairs. Seeing her, Millie started to follow. But Malachite caught her hand and stopped her.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her.”
Millie swallowed, then nodded. She and her younger daughters watched in silence as he followed April from the room.
* * *
April threw herself across the bed and allowed the hot tears to flow. Even with her lids firmly closed she could still see the way her mother looked, her eyes crinkled with happiness, her cheeks splashed with two bright spots of color.
She ignored the knock on her door and wallowed in misery. She hated Malachite Jewel. It was all his fault that everything was changing. Everything safe and familiar seemed to be slipping away.
“April.”
At the sound of Malachite’s voice she turned away, curling herself into a ball. “Go away.”
“I will. In a minute.”
She could tell that he was crossing the room by the way his voice drew closer.
“But if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you something.”
“What?” The word was out of her mouth before she could think. Not that she intended to answer his question. To prove it, she squeezed her eyes shut so she couldn’t see him.
The mattress sagged, and she knew he was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. She wouldn’t look at him. Couldn’t.
She waited, wondering what he had come here to ask. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Then maybe he’d go away and leave her alone. Leave all of them alone. Forever.
“I’d like to ask you about your father.”
That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She opened her eyes long enough to glare at him. “What do you care?”
“Sometimes it helps to talk about someone you love. Someone you’ve lost. Someone who might be fading a bit in your memory.”
She blanched, and Malachite knew he’d hit a nerve. “Pa’s not... fading. And I don’t need to talk about him to remember him. Especially not to you.”
“I’m sure you don’t. But what about your little sisters? How can they know their father if you and your mother don’t talk about him?”
“They didn’t know Pa. Not the way I did.”
“That’s true. All the more reason why you should tell them about him.”
She digested that in silence. At length she asked, “Why should that matter to you? You’re not my pa. And even if you...” She nearly choked on the word but forced herself to go on. “Even if you married my mama, you’d never be my pa.”
“I know that. I’d never try to replace your father. But what should I do about my feelings for your mother?”
“You shouldn’t have any feelings for Mama.”
“Why?”
“Because. She’s... old. And plain.”
“Is that what you think about her?”
April felt a twinge of shame. And guilt. But she refused to back down. “I don’t care what Birdie said about Ma being young and pretty. Mamas aren’t supposed to be. Especially when they’re widows. I’ve heard Mrs. Thurlong and Mrs. Witherspoon and the other ladies in town clucking over Ma. Saying it was too bad Mick Potter died and left poor old Millie with all that work.”
“Poor old Millie. Is that what you think of your mother?”
April shrugged, too embarrassed to answer.
“Do you like seeing your mother work so hard?”
“’Course not.” April scrubbed her eyes. “Sometimes, when Mama doesn’t know I’m watching, she gets a faraway look in her eyes. And sometimes even tears. And that makes me feel bad. But tonight...” She drew in a deep breath. “Tonight I saw something else.”
“What did you see?” Malachite asked gently.
“Ever since you came to stay with us, I’ve seen Mama changing. Laughing and blushing for no reason. Even acting silly and flirty. Pa is lying cold in the grave, and she’s forgetting all about him. And she wants me to forget about him, too.”
“Your mother will never forget about your father, April. And neither will you.”
“But I am.” Her voice was a cry of pain. “Sometimes I can’t even see him anymore when I close my eyes.”
Now it was out in the open. The real reason for her pain and her fear.
He waited for the space of a heartbeat before reaching out a hand to her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch or pull away he drew her closer. “It’s all right if the image of your father fades in time. You don’t need to see his face in your mind to keep his memory alive.”
“I don’t?”
He shook his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “All your father wants is for you to live your life to the best of your ability. If you do that, you’ll honor his memory, and keep him alive forever.”
He felt her take a long, deep breath and knew that he’d said the right thing.
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked. “Honoring your pa’s memory?”
He felt a knife twist inside. “I guess I haven’t done much
of that lately. But if it isn’t too late, that’s what I intend to do.” He stood. “I’ll leave you alone now, April.”
As he opened the door she called, “Malachite.”
“Yes?” He turned.
“Do you think our fathers keep on taking care of us, even though they’re in heaven?”
He studied this little girl, whose eyes, though red-rimmed with tears, were wide and trusting. Though she didn’t know it, she was forcing him to peer into the dark corners of his soul for the answers. He closed his eyes a moment. And what he found was a glimmer of light. A ray of hope. Not only for April, but for himself. “I think it wouldn’t be heaven if fathers couldn’t keep on looking out for those they love.”
He closed the door and leaned against it a moment, more deeply moved by her questions than he cared to admit.
A child’s heart, he realized, was an awesome treasure. One that had to be handled with great care.
Chapter Sixteen
“Malachite!” June’s shout pierced the silence of the early morning. “Come quick.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” The door to the bedroom was thrown open. Malachite, still fastening his pants, burst through the doorway.
Millie stumbled in behind him, clad only in her nightgown.
“It’s the mustangs.” The little girl’s voice was shrill with excitement. “I saw them. Look.”
He crossed the room to stand beside her. Peering through the window, he watched the line of horses disappearing over a rise. At the rear of the column, driving the others when they faltered, was a magnificent black stallion.
“It’s Diablo, isn’t it?” June turned to Malachite with a look of triumph. “Didn’t I tell you I could help?”
“Yes, you did.” He picked her up and gave her a fierce hug, then set her on her feet and spun away.
“Are you going after them?” she called as her two sisters watched from their bed.
He nodded. At the doorway he stopped. Millie still bore the traces of their long night of lovemaking. Lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. Eyes heavy-lidded and sultry. Bare toes peeking out from the hem of a pristine gown that had been hastily pulled on. A fiery mane of hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders.
Sweet heaven, she took his breath away.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
He started to touch her, then seemed to think better of it. Lowering his hand to his side, he clenched it into a fist. “As long as it takes. I intend to track Diablo until I catch him.”
“But how will you make it through the heavy drifts?” she asked.
He shrugged, fighting the urge to touch her. With impatient strides he moved past her. “If that herd can make it, my horse can. Until recently he was as wild as they are.”
“You’ll want some food,” she called to his retreating back. “I’ll get it ready.”
By the time he hurried down the stairs, she had prepared a breakfast of eggs and potatoes, meat and biscuits. While he ate she filled his saddlebag with enough food to see him through a week or more.
Watching her, he said with a laugh, “How many people do you expect me to feed?”
“I just don’t want you to go hungry.” She filled a canteen with water and tucked it into his supplies. “I believe I saw a bottle of whiskey in one of these cupboards.”
As she stood on tiptoe he got to his feet and caught her by the arm, stilling her nervous movements. “All right. Slow down. Tell me what’s wrong, Millie.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” She avoided looking at him. “I just don’t want to forget anything.”
“Millie.” He caught her chin, forcing her head up. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
“I wish you weren’t going. I’ve never seen a storm as bad as this one. I keep thinking, what if you don’t...” She bit her lip.
“What if I don’t come back?” He stared down into her eyes, seeing the worry. “It isn’t the storm. It’s Diablo, isn’t it?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod of her head.
His big hands framed her face. His thumbs stroked her jaw. “He isn’t a devil. And you needn’t worry. Even wild mustangs couldn’t keep me away from you.” He lowered his head, brushing her lips with his.
“That’s what...” She didn’t finish the sentence, but they both knew what she’d been about to say. Mick hadn’t come back. And his death had left his widow and children alone and afraid.
“I said I’ll be back. And I will,” he muttered against her mouth.
Heat flared between them and he combed his fingers through her hair before taking the kiss deeper.
He heard her moan as she clutched the front of his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the three little girls descending the stairs. On a sigh of frustration he lifted his head and took a step back.
“Remember where we were,” he muttered. “We’ll finish this when I get back.”
He picked up his saddlebags and tossed them over his shoulder.
“Malachite.” June’s voice stopped him.
“Yes?” He turned.
She stood on the bottom step, looking very small and very solemn. “I want you to come back. But April said, if you bring back Diablo, you’ll bring bad luck on all of us.”
He winked and shot her a reckless smile. “I’ll be back. With Diablo.” He glanced beyond her to the middle of the stairway, where April stood alone, watching him in silence. “And I’ll prove he’s just a horse.”
When he opened the door, a gust of wind rushed in, causing the sparks in the fireplace to leap and dance.
With a tip of his hat, he stepped through the doorway, pulling the door shut behind him.
Millie and the girls rushed to the window to see him trudge through the snow to the barn. A short time later they watched as horse and rider picked through the heavy drifts, following the trail of the mustangs.
* * *
Malachite crept to the top of a snow-covered hill and watched the herd below. For four days he had trailed them as they’d crisscrossed the territory, pausing only long enough to snatch a few hours of rest. Hunger drove them ever southward in an attempt to outrace the snow. But they’d been thwarted in their efforts. Instead of abating, the storm had continued, sweeping across Texas with surprising ferocity.
Malachite smiled as he watched the stallion work the herd. The name given him by the townspeople was apt. He was a demanding devil, nipping a mare that lagged behind, boldly plunging through belly-high drifts to break a fresh trail when the herd balked.
The stallion led them unerringly toward the protection of a box canyon. The steep walls offered shelter from the storm. Here and there were grassy patches that would provide much needed food. As they approached the narrow opening, Diablo stood back, sniffing the air, studying the surrounding hills for any sign of predators. Seeing none, he allowed the others to file past. Soon, while the stallion stood guard, the herd began foraging.
Malachite crept back to where he’d tethered his horse and helped himself to cold meat and biscuits. He couldn’t risk a fire. Not that he had need of one. The thrill of the hunt had the blood pumping hotly in his veins.
When he’d eaten his fill, he slipped the rope over the end of a fallen tree and tied the other end around the pommel of the saddle. He’d known, if he was patient and persistent, he’d find his moment.
For the sake of the herd, the stallion had just made a critical mistake. Though there was ample food and shelter in the canyon, there was but one way to exit. And Malachite was about to see to it that the escape route was cut off.
A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve got you now, you magnificent devil.”
* * *
Millie stirred the pot of stew and watched as fresh snowflakes floated past the window. The days had seemed so long since Malachite left. She’d struggled to fill her days with work, to keep her mind off him and the dangers he faced. While she swept and scrubbed and busied herself with all manner of chores, it
was almost possible. But the nights were another matter. Visions of him crept into her dreams. Dreams tormented with images of a devil horse, eyes glittering, hooves flashing, rearing high and crushing his stalker with powerful blows. She’d been awake since dawn, struggling to banish the image of Malachite, bloody and beaten, lying helpless in the snow, waiting for death to claim him.
She wasn’t the only one who’d been troubled. Her three daughters, suffering from the long days of confinement, had become tense and irritable.
“April hogged the covers again last night,” May complained.
“Did not.”
“Did, too. And you deliberately rolled yourself up so I couldn’t get them back.”
“I rolled up so June couldn’t put her cold feet on my back.”
“I don’t do that,” the little girl protested.
“Do, too.”
“All right, girls. That’s enough.” Millie rapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot with such force the three little girls fell silent. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for patience. “There must be a solution to this problem.”
“There is,” April said, pouting. “Let me sleep by myself. I’m tired of sleeping with my little sisters.”
Millie arched a brow. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself? “I think you have a very good point, April.” She saw her daughter’s eyes widen. “All right. Unlike our house in town, we don’t need to save the extra rooms for boarders. There are enough rooms here that each of you may choose one for yourself. Now, where would you like to sleep?”
For the space of a minute the little girl was speechless. She’d never been given such a choice before. Always she’d had to share. Now, suddenly, the choices seemed endless.
“Do we have to choose now?”
Millie shook her head. “Why don’t the three of you look around and decide. Supper will be ready in an hour or so. By that time, I’ll expect each of you to choose which bedroom you’d like.”
Their bickering was forgotten. The three little girls raced up the stairs, each one eager to choose the perfect bedroom.
Malachite Page 20
