by Gem Sivad
Grady Hawks had added a heavy duster, lined with what looked like wool. She envied him the coat and shivered, aware suddenly that her hands were ice cold.
She tried to control her spontaneous retreat, but couldn't as she nervously edged farther away from him, letting her gaze slide to the other people in the room.
But they watched him too, and it was obvious that help was not on the way. She realized then that as usual she was on her own. And for some reason, everyone was herding her toward the rancher.
The two white men and the woman named Comfort moved to one side, leaving Grady Hawks with her on the other. It gave them an air of intimacy, as though Jewel and the Indian rancher were somehow aligned.
She couldn't tell what was about to happen, but her practical side knew to get close to a door in case there was a fight. She looked around and inched a little nearer to the room's only exit, other than the big picture window that fronted the street. He shifted, but didn't bother to intercept her. He didn't have to; she was boxed in.
Instead, he picked the knife off the table and pulled out a handkerchief to methodically wipe the blade clean of Frank's blood.
She expected Sheriff Potter to keep the knife since it had been used for murder, but the lawman seemed indifferent when Grady Hawks reclaimed it.
"Thanks," he said. "Glad to get this back." He left his post at the door and walked away down the hall, carrying the weapon with him. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe easier.
They were silently listening for him to leave. Instead, they heard Comfort's back door open, followed by words spoken in a language foreign to her, and then the sound of the door as it closed, before he returned to the boarding-house sitting room.
"How is it your knife came to be in the hands of Frank's murderer?" It was a bold question, but there was a sheriff in the room, and if he wouldn't ask, Jewel would.
But Grady Hawks answered readily enough. "Last time I saw it, it was sticking out of a man's shoulder as he rode away."
Sheriff Potter interrupted. "Grady Hawks came into my office last October and reported that he'd been shot at outside of town. He told me then that he'd wounded the shooter when he threw that very knife and stuck the fellow."
The sheriff was no help at all in pursuing the questioning that Jewel felt should be directed at Grady Hawks.
"Did Frank owe you money?" Jewel hadn't been close enough to hear the conversation that night four years before, but if the Indian claimed Frank had cheated at cards or stolen a valuable, it wouldn't surprise her.
She'd not even thought to ask Frank that night. There hadn't been much talk on the way back to the hotel room, besides Frank's promises of abuse that he later delivered.
She had avoided Grady Hawks then, embarrassed by the entire incident. Now she locked gazes with him and quickly wished that she hadn't.
His black eyebrows were thick, and when he lifted one, he looked even more arrogant than she'd first thought. Indian or not, this coyote thinks he's somebody.
She'd been wrong about his eyes; they weren't exactly slate, but an odd light grayish/blue made more startling by the way they pinned her with their intensity.
When Grady Hawks ignored her question, she told the sheriff, without dropping her eyes from the staring match they were in, "I didn't stab Frank or see who killed him, but I'm not sorry to be free of him."
For some reason, Rancher Hawks wanted to play stare-me-down. She dropped her eyes, although his familiar appraisal of her raised her hackles and brought on defiance.
She clenched her hands, willing her anger deep . Playing meek will get me free sooner.
When the sheriff didn't comment on her words, it irritated her. It was as though the entire room waited breathlessly for something. She had a schedule to keep and no time for foolishness. Clearing her throat, she spoke to Grady Hawks.
"Please excuse my poor manners. I'm sorry I didn't say thank you the night of the social." In spite of her efforts, she couldn't keep the dry sarcasm from her voice, "My husband needed my attention after your conversation with him."
Frank had beaten her afterward until she'd forgotten about escape and prayed for survival. Appeasement, while she learned defense against his brutality, became a way of life.
She was jerked from her reverie when the Indian rancher stepped closer. Before she knew his intent, Grady Hawks cupped her face, holding her chin in strong fingers.
"Mister Hawks, I don't care who you are, or who you think you are. You'd better get your hands off of me." Jewel tried to jerk her head free, but his hand tightened while he explored her once-again bruised cheek, turning her face into the light to study her profile.
Then he grunted and stepped back, releasing his grip.
"Will she do?" The question came from Hamilton Quince, who was also standing now.
Chapter Three
The woman named Comfort watched silently; a frown of disapproval marred her beautiful features. "Mrs. Rossiter, perhaps I could get you something to eat. Or, if not, at least a cup of coffee."
Jewel's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten since the evening before. But, it was more important to be on her way. She took her cue and answered socially, as though they were enjoying an evening of pleasant discourse.
"No, thank you, Mrs. Quince. I will return your clothing as soon as I am able, but I need to be on my way. Now."
She'd had a familiar feeling, of disaster about to happen, hearing the exchange between Grady Hawks and Hamilton Quince. The sound of voices cut through the air, and Jewel eased over to the window as Comfort Quince moved toward her front entrance that faced the only street in Eclipse.
Sheriff Potter was outside. Jewel hadn't seen him leave, but now, on his return, he was followed by a mob. They crowded across the walk and would have shoved through the door, but Comfort blocked the way until the sheriff stepped inside, towing Judge Conklin behind him.
She could tell from the tension in the room that trouble was expected. Escape through the front was now impossible, since the porch was surrounded and overflowing with angry people. It will have to be the back door, and soon. Jewel readied herself to make a run for it.
"I didn't kill Frank Rossiter, Sheriff Potter. Am I under arrest?" At the negative shake of his head, she asked aggressively, "Can I go now?"
She tried to hide the tinge of fear in her voice, forcing her tone to sound reasonable.
"I'll go out the back way and slip out of town." But she could see from the grave expressions on the other inhabitants of the room that those weren't the plans in play.
Will she do? What now? All she needed was for the respectable citizens of Eclipse to decide they could use her somehow. She'd already met most of the unsavory sort, and these people didn't impress her as being much better.
Grady Hawks hadn't spoken again, leaving Jewel wondering about his presence. She had a feeling that he was more of a threat to her than the lawman or the judge. She could still feel the place on her jaw that his callused fingers had gripped.
From across the room where Hamilton Quince stood next to his wife, her hostess asked anxiously, "What about the children? Where are your little girls?"
Jewel whirled and strode toward the other female in the room, wanting to accept this woman as an ally—to trust her—but unwilling to believe in the goodness of anyone now present. The Indian reached for her, and she brushed his hand aside.
"What do you know about my children?" She'd wanted to appear polite, civilized, but instead her voice came out a harsh demand.
Hamilton Quince unwound his length from his chair and stood, stepping between Jewel and his wife.
"It's all right, Ham, let me talk to her." Comfort Quince maneuvered around her husband and reached a hand out to Jewel.
"I know that you have two baby girls. You've named them Amethyst and Emerald."
The woman was eager, and her face flushed as she spoke. Jewel stepped back. She was suddenly sure no help would come from Comfort Quince. This woman had her own agenda.
/> "I know that you have struggled to care for them, and they were the reason you and your husband parted."
Jewel stared at her astonished. Since when is my business of interest to the Queen of Eclipse society?
Jewel had lived in the town and around it long enough to know that Comfort Bailey had married her way up, from crooked sheriff, Owen Bailey—now deceased—to rich rancher, Hamilton Quince. It was also reported that there was nothing Hamilton wouldn't do for his wife, including kill her first husband.
Along the way, Comfort had accumulated the Boarding House they were occupying, and the Mercantile, where Jewel couldn't afford to shop. It was obvious the woman was no fool.
Add to that the lustrous dark hair, elegant height, porcelain skin, and full ruby lips, and it wasn't surprising that she was the arbiter of Eclipse male society. But what was unexpected was that she also ruled the female population and guided them with a firm hand.
But Jewel was sure the Comfort Quinces of the world understood nothing of the underclass—the gamblers, drunks, and whores that made up the town the Rossiters had visited.
Awful fear swept over her, and she clenched her hands to keep them from shaking, palsied like an old woman. She thought she might suffocate on her own panicked awareness of danger. Inside and out, there was no ally to be had.
So close, so close … just let me survive these next moments to get out of here.
Please…
Her entreaty was a nameless mantra to herself. She'd given up praying to God when he stopped listening. Jewel gathered her wits and hid her terror.
" Why do you know about my children?" She phrased her question carefully to maximize her request for information and minimize the time it would take to get it.
It was a conversation between women. The men in the room were excluded, and none attempted to interrupt the tableau. "I … have been concerned about their well-being.
I know that a woman like you…"
Comfort paused, her cheeks flushing a darker shade of rose, as she continued,
"Forgive me. I know that your life has been difficult. What I meant to say is simply, I, that is, my husband and I, would like to adopt your daughters."
Once the words were out of the woman's mouth, Jewel felt almost relief. She'd expected some nameless horror.
"Of course you can't adopt my daughters." She relaxed and made to step back, but the other woman claimed her arm and stopped her.
"Listen to me." Even as Comfort took her arm, Jewel shook it off and stepped back.
"Listen to me, Jewel Rossiter. You cannot give those precious children a good home. If you love them, you'll see that they would be much better with my husband and me. We can give them everything…"
"No." Jewel turned toward the hall door and started walking, all the time clenching her teeth to keep the bile of ugliness that festered in her belly from rising to choke her.
"I'm leaving now."
I've got a buyer lined up for the twins, Jewel, Frank had taunted her just that morning. She'd thought it an empty threat to frighten her into returning to him. They are female children, aren't they?
Now the Quince woman stood there talking about taking her children, and Jewel recognized Frank's signature all over the deal. He had it all set up to sell Emma and Amy, whether I came back to work for him or not.
"If you paid Frank Rossiter money to buy my children, you made a fool's deal. My children are not for sale." Jewel couldn't keep the contempt from her voice.
"As a matter of fact," Hamilton Quince spoke finally. "I did pay the gambler money.
But he assured me that you would gladly give them up. That you were not interested in motherhood."
Jewel could hear the rising voices of the crowd outside, and that, combined with what seemed the collective will of the room for her to hand over her family, released words ill-considered but true.
"Frank Rossiter had no right to take money from you, even if it's legal to buy and sell children, which I doubt that it is."
When Hamilton Quince would have interrupted, she added, "Frank Rossiter did not provide for his children and lost any right to them long before they were born."
The people in the world to which Frank had descended were animals not to be trusted. That Jewel had found out firsthand. Evidently Eclipse society folks were of the same ilk.
"All the more reason for you to let us have them," Hamilton Quince spoke sternly, showing Jewel why he had a reputation for ruthlessness. He stepped in her path, blocking the door.
"It's not like you're a respectable widow with the means to support two children.
Everyone in this room knows how you've made a living, Jewel."
Do they now, I wonder? She hoped nobody knew that Julie Fulton had fallen so far she'd had to take in laundry to support herself and the twins.
"I don't care what you think. Unless you're going to arrange for my death too, get out of my way, because I'm leaving."
Her implied accusation went unanswered, but the Quince couple retreated, no longer sure of their ability to control the gambler's widow.
If Frank had spoken true, and Ma Siler had the twins, every minute Jewel was detained her daughters were in danger.
She searched the faces of her captors. Always read your subject, Jewel. They'll telegraph their next move before they make it.
She'd become a moderately decent poker player following Frank's teachings. Now she tried to find a weakness in the wall of humans keeping her.
I can do this, Jewel assured herself. I delivered my babies alone, on a filthy mattress, in a paper shack, kept them safe for five months, and I will get them back. Frank had been disgusted when she'd turned up pregnant. She'd been frightened and resentful. She'd been too scared to use Ma Siler. She was ashamed when she remembered how she'd considered it. It had been a horrible nine months.
She'd hidden the sickness easily because the throwing-up time had mostly been in the morning, and Frank had always been passed out or still gone. After he knew, his abuse had gotten considerably worse. It had curbed her ability to play cards in the last three months, although he'd tried lacing her stays even tighter to conceal her girth.
Her absence from his card games had taken their toll. He'd lost, and lost again—
blaming her each time he came back empty-handed. He'd called her a fat cow, a leech, and an idiot.
She'd made him promise to get a doctor when her time came. The afternoon she'd gone into labor, Frank had said he'd go for help. Instead, he'd left Jewel writhing in pain in the only hovel they could afford after his losses at the table. But he'd found a seat in an all-night poker game and left her on her own.
But his leaving had been all she'd needed to conquer her initial fear. Her body had set its own rhythm, and she'd ridden the pains to glory. When she'd thought everything was over, she'd tried to clean herself, only to have her body give her a second gift.
* * * *
Jewel hugged her arms defensively across her chest and stared defiantly at Hamilton Quince. She'd moved her twin daughters to Flat Rock, a town on the other side of the county and made plans to get away from Texas and move to a better place.
Although she initially had been humiliated by the work of a laundress, success had changed her mind after she'd taken care of herself and the twins for five months. I'll hold my nose and wash Old Man Tate's socks with a smile if I can just get back to my work.
The dark outside told her more than the clock on the wall chiming eleven. I need to get to Ma's place. She assessed the distance to the door, ready to dart there the moment a path opened. She trembled from both anticipation and cold.
Suddenly, Grady Hawks dealt himself into the game. He picked up his coat, and before she could protest or step away, put it around her shoulders. She jerked, as his hand possessively smoothed it over her back.
She couldn't tell whether he was emphasizing ownership of it or interest in her, but her head went up, and she readied for a fight. Cold or not, she didn't want anything to d
o with these people. For a moment her eyes locked with his in combat. Leave me alone, she screamed at him silently.
She was surrounded by people ready to tear her life apart. She knew what the Quinces had in mind, but she still didn't know what the Indian wanted. She was pretty sure, though, that Frank's death had little or nothing to do with this gathering.
"Ma'am." She reacted to the low timbre of his voice, shivering as much from the tone as from the cold in the room. When she stepped from under his hand, and as politely as possible under the circumstances, gave the duster back, he said, "I've sent three trusted friends to fetch your daughters. You can rest easy."
Panic and hope blossomed. If the girls were away from Ma Siler, that was a good thing. "How do you know where Emma and Amy are if you didn't have anything to do with Frank's killing?"
He stared at her hard from those granite gray eyes and ignored her words. She clenched her hands, digging her nails into her flesh instead of his, to remind herself that this man hadn't shown any of his cards yet.
These people would do what they wanted with her, she already understood that they intended for her to have no rights inside this room but for the ones they granted to her.
But this stranger offered to get her children away from Ma Siler, and that moved him from enemy to neutral. She met his stare and muttered fiercely, "What is it you want, Mr.
Hawks? Nothing comes free."
Jewel let her gaze slide across the room, assessing the members of the group for weakness or hesitation that she could use to her advantage. The others were grim-faced, showing no give.
Hamilton Quince answered her. "Mrs. Rossiter. Let me explain. Mr. Hawks finds himself at the mercy of Texas expansion. Since his father, Henry Hawks, is gone, there are those who seek to separate his heir, and others who have Indian blood, from land that they rightfully own."
She shivered and folded her arms. Word of Henry Hawks' robbery and murder had reached all the way to the territory when it had happened. So this is his son.
Jewel kept her back to the opening, ready to leave the moment an opportunity presented itself. But, meanwhile the cold that seeped under the front door found its way into the drawing room, and the draft intensified her chill. When she spoke, her voice was sharp with impatience and the need to quit the Indian's presence.
