Malachite (The Jewels of Texas Historical Romance Series Book 5) (13 page)

Spotting the decanter of whiskey on the desk, Malachite poured himself a tumbler and tasted. It was smooth and expensive and aged. He lifted it in a salute to the tintype, muttering, “Damn you, Onyx Jewel. Damn you to hell and back. I’m not you. Not anything like you. I’m merely your seed. A seed you carelessly planted but never nurtured. Don’t expect me to be your son. Don’t expect me to care about this place or its people. Do you hear me?”

He downed the whiskey in one long swallow, then tossed the glass across the room and watched it shatter against the wall. With an angry oath he finished undressing and blew out the lantern before climbing into the bed. But sleep wouldn’t come.

He lay in the darkness, watching the dancing firelight play across the walls and ceiling.

He hadn’t wanted to be here. Had fought it, and would be fighting it still, if it hadn’t been for Millie. Right now, her needs outweighed his. So he would stay in his father’s house, sleep in his father’s bed. But it wouldn’t change anything.

The spirits haunting these rooms tonight would not touch him. He had already hardened his heart against them. And when he left this place, they would not leave with him. His heart, and his anger, would remain intact.

* * *

“Mama.”

Millie dragged herself back from the edge of sleep and struggled to sit up. In the doorway stood three little moppets, draped in blankets.

When she opened her arms, they flew into her bed, laughing and shrieking.

“June didn’t know where she was when she woke up this morning,” May taunted.

“Did, too,” the little girl cried.

“Did not. She thought she was in heaven.”

“Why did you think that?” Millie asked.

“’Cause I dreamed that Pa carried me to bed.” She snuggled into her mother’s arms. “And Pa’s in heaven.”

“That wasn’t Pa. That was Malachite,” April said with disdain. “He carried May to bed, too. I walked,” she added proudly.

Millie winced inwardly. Had she somehow done this to her oldest daughter? Had she forced April to become so independent that the little girl had closed her heart to accepting help from anyone?

“How come we’re here?” May asked.

“Because the Jewel house was close. Malachite wanted to get us someplace warm before we froze.”

“I wasn’t afraid,” little June said. “But I was cold.”

“I was cold, too.” May drew the blankets up over her head. “And I was afraid. A little.” She turned to her older sister. “What about you, April?”

“I was cold. And scared,” she admitted. “But not because of the snow. Because of Diablo.”

“I wasn’t scared after Malachite found us,” May said firmly.

April ducked her head, refusing to admit that Malachite’s presence had made them all feel safer.

Millie gathered her daughters close and pressed kisses to their cheeks. “Well, here we are, all safe and warm, thanks to Malachite. I don’t think I’ve slept this late in years.”

She breathed in deeply. “Ooh. Smells like biscuits. I’ll bet Carmelita is making breakfast. Let’s get dressed and see if we can help.”

“We don’t have any clothes,” April complained. “We already looked around our room.” She drew the blanket close. “This is all we had.”

Just then they looked up to see Malachite in the doorway.

With a smile he said, “I believe these belong to the ladies of the house.” In his hands were an assortment of dresses and petticoats.

The three girls scrambled off the bed to claim their clothes.

“The pink one is mine,” June said, holding out her hand.

“And the blue one is mine,” May declared.

“Then I guess this pretty dress must belong to you,” he said, handing the pale yellow gown to April.

She accepted it without a word.

“I’d keep this one for myself—” he held up Millie’s simple white gown “—but it’s too small.”

May and June giggled at his joke.

“So I guess I’ll let you have it.” He crossed the room and dropped it on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you.” Millie kept the blankets tucked modestly around her shoulders.

He wondered if she had any idea how tempting she looked, with her hair tousled and her eyes heavy-lidded from sleep.

He turned and walked to the door. Over his shoulder he called, “Breakfast is ready, so you’d better hurry.”

When he left, the girls hurried to their room to dress. As soon as the door closed, Millie poured water into the basin and began to wash. She knew she was taking pains with her appearance this morning. But she refused to wallow in guilt over it. She wanted to look pretty for Malachite.

She turned and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the looking glass. Stepping closer, she examined herself, clad only in a chemise and petticoat. She found herself wishing that Malachite could have known her when she was young and pretty. There had been a time when her breasts had been high and firm, her hips softly rounded. Now her body seemed thinner, more angular. Her fair skin was tanned and freckled from years in the harsh Texas sun. She examined her hands. Already the raw, bloody flesh was beginning to heal, thanks to Malachite’s ointment. But even at their best, they would never be anything but rough and callused from hard work.

She turned away, not wanting to look too closely at what she’d become. What Malachite saw, she reminded herself, was a twenty-three-year-old widow with three children.

When she was dressed, she called to the girls. They needed no coaxing. From the wonderful scents floating up the stairs, Carmelita had outdone herself.

In the kitchen they paused in the doorway and looked around. It was empty except for Malachite.

“Where’s Carmelita?” Millie asked.

He looked up from the eggs he was scrambling. “Probably at her ranch. I doubt she’s going anywhere until this snow melts.” He nodded toward the window. “It’s a good thing you’re not still out there.”

Millie and the girls peered out the window.

“Mama, look,” April said with a trace of awe. “The snow’s clear up to the top of the corral.”

Millie shook her head in wonder. “I’ve never seen that much snow.”

“I don’t believe I have, either.” Malachite crossed the room to join them. “I couldn’t even open the back door.”

“How will you feed your horse?” May asked.

He shrugged. “I may have to climb out a window and shovel a path to the barn. But there’s no hurry. There’s plenty of hay and oats in the stall. Come on,” he called. “Let’s enjoy breakfast.”

Millie started to walk to the stove but Malachite turned her toward the table and held out a chair. “Just sit down. I’ll do the serving.”

The girls giggled as Malachite served them hot biscuits, strips of sizzling pork and scrambled eggs.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You’re doing Mama’s work,” June said between giggles.

“Your mama works too hard,” he said, filling three glasses with milk. “That’s why I decided to make her sit here and be treated like one of her boarders.”

“Are we boarders, too?” May asked.

He nodded. “But if you’re really good, I may let you help me wash the dishes.”

There were more giggles as they began to eat.

Millie took a tentative taste of the eggs and biscuits and arched a brow in surprise. “Why, Malachite, these are good.”

He gave a nod of his head. “Thank you. You’d better be nice to me or I may open my own boardinghouse in town and run you out of business.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She took another bite of egg. “Somehow I can’t see you exchanging recipes and gossip with Lavinia Thurlong and Gladys Witherspoon.”

Now the girls were laughing harder. Even April couldn’t help herself.

He leaned over and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Millie’s ear. “You’re just afraid they’ll like my rabbit stew better than yours.”

When he took his seat at the table, she picked up her coffee and leaned back, glancing around at the children’s smiling faces. It had been a long time since they’d been this relaxed and happy.

Just last night she’d feared they might not live to see another day. Yet here they were, laughing and joking as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

She turned to study the man who sat at the head of the table. This was all because of Malachite Jewel. Without a thought to his own safety he’d plucked them out of harm’s way. He’d given them a second chance at life. And though she was very good at hiding her emotions from the others, there was no denying the truth to herself.

She loved him. Desperately.

“W
ho’s going to help me with the dishes?” Malachite asked.

“I will.” Little June was the first one on her feet.

“I will, too.” May followed.

“All right. June, you’ll wash.” He poured warm water from the kettle into a pan and set it on the table. He lifted the little girl onto a stool and tied a towel around her middle. “May, you can dry.” He handed her a towel. “And I’ll put the dishes away.”

“What about me?” Millie asked. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing,” Malachite said firmly. “I told you. This is your morning off. Enjoy it. It may be the only one you ever get. Why don’t you take your coffee into the parlor and pretend you’re a lady of leisure.”

Though Millie laughingly dismissed his suggestion, she couldn’t hide her pleasure.

“What about April?” Little June turned to glance at her older sister.

“I’m going with Mama,” April declared.

“But that’s not fair—”

Her words were cut off by Malachite, who nodded his approval. “Go ahead, April. We have enough hands here. Besides, these aren’t really chores.”

“They aren’t?” May’s eyes widened. “What are they?”

“They’re fun. And when we’re finished here, I have even more fun planned.”

“What?” Both girls were suddenly twitching with excitement.

He merely smiled. “You’ll see.”

In the doorway April hesitated. Not that she cared what the fun was. But she wasn’t about to allow her little sisters to have it all to themselves. “Mama, would you mind if I stayed here and helped May and June?”

Millie shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind at all.” She walked away chuckling. A short time later she heard squeals of laughter as the three girls bundled into their coats and mittens and followed Malachite out a window and into the snow.

“Mama, come watch us,” June shouted. “We’re going to shovel a path from the house to the barn.”

Millie raced to the window and watched as the three little girls followed Malachite’s lead and began tackling the shoulder-high drifts.

A few minutes later, unwilling to miss the excitement, she joined them.

“So.” Malachite looked up with a grin. “You couldn’t stand being idle any longer, could you?”

She laughed. “I just couldn’t stand missing all the fun.”

He tossed a shovelful of snow over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize this was fun. I thought we were working.”

“Looks like fun to me.” Millie picked up a shovel and worked alongside him, cutting through the drifts.

It took several hours to shovel a path from the ranch house to the barn. Inside they breathed in the rich, musty scents of earth and dung that permeated the air.

While Malachite cleaned his horse’s stall and added fresh water and oats, Millie milked the cows and sent her daughters searching the straw for eggs. By the time they latched the barn door hours later, the wind was hurtling in from the north, bringing even more snow.

“It’s a good thing we shoveled this path,” Malachite muttered. “Or by tomorrow morning we’d be trapped in the house until this latest storm blew over.”

“Why do we have snow?” June’s mouth was pursed in a little pout. “It isn’t good for anything.”

“What do you mean, not good for anything?” Malachite set down the heavy milk pail and scooped up a handful of snow. Taking aim at Millie, he said, “I’ll show you what it’s good for.”

Millie shot him a look of mock anger. “Malachite Jewel, if you toss that I’ll...”

“You’ll what?” he taunted.

“I’ll be forced to defend myself. And you won’t like what I’ll do.”

“This sounds like war. All right,” he called to the three girls. “Who’s with me?”

“I am,” little June shouted, sidling up beside him.

“Me, too,” May called.

“Traitors. Wait a minute,” Millie protested. “Isn’t anyone on my side?”

“I am, Mama.” April took a step closer to her mother.

“All right. Prepare to defend yourselves,” Malachite warned. He couldn’t resist tossing the first snowball. Especially since the little girls were alternately daring him to toss it then daring their mother to do the same.

The snowball splattered against Millie’s cheek and trickled down her chin. With a shout she wiped it aside and tossed one of her own, landing it squarely on the side of Malachite’s head.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he told her. “Well? What are you waiting for?” he called to May and June as he scooped up a handful of fresh snow.

Following his lead, the two little girls prepared their ammunition and took aim. Millie and April did the same, laughing and ducking as a volley of snowballs flew through the air. When May and June took refuge behind Malachite’s back, Millie grabbed her older daughter’s hand, and dragged her closer. “Come on. We’ve got them on the run now,” she shouted, scooping up more snow as she ran.

When she got close enough, she smeared the snow across Malachite’s face.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that, Mrs. Potter.” He caught her by the shoulder and pressed a handful of snow to her face. But at the last moment she turned her head and caught the snow in her hair.

Laughing uncontrollably, they fell to their knees and began to wipe the snow from each other, while the children gathered around to watch.

“Give up?” Millie demanded.

“I guess so.” Malachite shook snowflakes from the ends of her hair. “Even though we have you outnumbered, you and April seem to have the better aim.”

Millie turned to her laughing daughters. “You’re lucky April and I didn’t want to beat you too badly.”

As she started to get up, Malachite caught her by the hand and dragged her back to her knees. “Just a minute. There’s one more thing,” he muttered.

“What’s that?”

“It’s an old Comanche custom.” Before Millie could guess what he was planning to do, he leaned close and brushed a kiss over her lips. “When a fight is ended, the two sides have to show that there are no hard feelings.”

April gaped in astonishment. May and June, enjoying the look of surprise on their mother’s face, giggled and pointed.

Millie struggled to hide the pleasure that shot through her at the touch of his mouth on hers. She braced herself against him for a moment, then allowed him to help her up. When they were standing, she said sweetly, “Now I’ll show you one of our old Texas customs.”

Malachite puckered his lips.

With one hand she pulled open the neck of his shirt. With the other she dropped a handful of snow down his chest. Then, before he could react, she raced toward the house.

In mock outrage Malachite called to her retreating back, “You’d better keep looking over your shoulder, Mrs. Potter. I intend to see that you pay for this.”

“I’ll warn you to do the same, Mr. Jewel,” she called as she ducked into the house. “Just remember. I’m a very poor loser.”

The little girls were giggling so hard they dropped to their knees in the snow.

From her position at the window, Millie watched as Malachite gathered the three little girls close and joined in their laughter. At the sight of them she felt a sudden tug at her heart. And without warning, her eyes filled with tears.

* * *

“Something smells wonderful.” Malachite stomped snow from his boots and dumped an armload of firewood beside the hearth.

“I figured since you fixed us such a delicious breakfast, I’d better make something special for supper to redeem myself.” Millie looked up from the fire. Her cheeks were red, her hair curling damply. “I hope Carmelita won’t mind that I helped myself to some of her spices.”

“At the rate that snow is falling, Carmelita might not get back here until spring.”

He breathed deeply. The kitchen smelled of apple and cinnamon. Mixed with the wood smoke, it gave the house a festive flavor.

“I’ve brought in a couple of buckets of snow,” he said.

“What for?” With her back to him, Millie stirred soup in a big black kettle.

“I thought we’d melt it over the fire and use it for baths later.”

Millie turned. “Oh, Malachite. What a grand idea. The girls would love warm baths before bedtime. And so would I,” she admitted.

“Then we’ll start heating it now, so it’ll be ready after supper.” He filled a round tub with snow and placed it over the fire. For the next hour, as the snow melted and heated, he gradually added more and more snow from the buckets until the tub was filled with steaming water.

Their hours in the fresh air made everyone ravenous. They needed no coaxing when Millie called them to a supper of spicy beef soup, followed by roast beef swimming in thick gravy and served with potatoes, turnips and bread still warm from the fire.

Malachite leaned back, sipping coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything finer.”

“I hope you left room for my apple-cinnamon biscuits,” Millie said as she uncovered the basket of desserts.

“Well, maybe one bite.” Malachite helped himself to one biscuit, then another. Seeing little June watching, he winked. “Can I help it if your mother’s the best cook in Texas?”

She giggled. “Is she?”

He nodded. “Without a doubt. And that means trouble for me,” he said, patting his stomach.

“Why?”

“Because if this storm keeps up long enough and the root cellar here at the ranch keeps yielding treasures like this, and your mama keeps putting all this tempting food in front of me, by the time the snow melts, I won’t be able to see my boots.”

All three girls giggled at the thought of tall, lean Malachite getting fat.

“What did you eat when you lived with the Comanche?” June asked.

“Much the same as what you eat. Deer. Rabbit. Squirrel. And for dessert, we loved dried pumpkin meat drizzled with honey and nuts.”

“Mmm.” May turned to her mother. “Could you make that, Mama?”

Millie nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

“Didn’t you eat beef?” June asked.

He shook his head. “Not often. The People are nomads. We don’t raise cattle. But we take great pride in our horses.”

We. Millie wondered if he realized that he’d referred to himself as one of the People. Could it be that some of the pain and bitterness was beginning to ease?

“Have you ever seen a devil horse before?” June asked.

His smile was quick and warm. “Diablo is one of the most magnificent animals I’ve ever seen. But he’s no devil. Or evil spirit. He’s just a horse. And I intend to prove it. To you and to the town.”

“Nobody can catch Diablo,” April said with disdain. “Marshal Regan said half the cowboys in Texas have tried. And plenty have died trying.”

“I’ll catch him,” Malachite said softly. “And when I do, you’ll realize that he’s just a horse. What’s more, when I bring him in, his harem will follow. And I’ll have the finest breeding stock in Texas.”

At the thread of excitement in his tone, Millie turned to study him. He was always so careful to mask his emotions. But this time he’d revealed a tiny glimpse of his true feelings.

“I could help you find him,” June said.

He shoved back his chair and paused to tousle her hair. “And how could you help?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and thought for a moment. It was plain that Malachite had become her hero, and she would do anything to please him. “I can see for miles from my bedroom window,” she said solemnly. “I could watch for him. And when I spot him, I could call you, and you could chase after him.”

He was careful not to allow her to see the smile that touched his lips. “I think that’s a fine idea. When will you take the first watch?”

“Tonight. Until I fall asleep.”

“That’s good.” He began to clear the table. “You can get started right after we help your mama with the dishes.”

Millie was surprised at how quickly the three girls jumped up to carry the dishes to the sideboard.

As they finished washing and drying, April asked, “What’s on the fire, Mama?”

“A tub of warm water. Malachite has been melting snow so we can enjoy a bath. If you girls will fetch your blankets, we can get started.”

The three girls raced up the stairs and returned carrying their blankets folded over their arms. Millie took the bedding and spread it out in front of the hearth to warm.

She looked up to see Malachite pulling on his cowhide jacket. “Where are you going?”

He gave her a quick grin. “I think the four of you would appreciate some privacy. I’m heading out to the barn. I’ll check the horses, then bring in a supply of firewood for the night. That ought to give you an hour or two.”

As soon as he was gone, the three little girls stripped off their dresses and took turns bending over the tub while Millie washed their hair. Then they climbed into the warm water and splashed and giggled. Each time the water cooled, Millie added hot water until the tub was filled to the brim.

“Look, Mama.” June held up her hands. “My skin is wrinkled. What does that mean?”

“It means you’re waterlogged,” she said with a laugh. “I think it’s time to get out.”

The three little girls reluctantly climbed out of the tub and dried themselves before slipping into warm blankets.

At a discreet tap on the back door, Millie hurried over to admit Malachite, whose arms were piled high with logs. A bitter wind rushed in behind him, nearly snatching the door from her grasp.

“How was my timing?” he asked.

“Perfect. The girls are all ready for bed.”

She leaned against the door and slipped the latch, then hurried over to adjust the blankets around her daughters’ shoulders. “You need to get out of this draft. I think you’d better get right upstairs.”

“It’s going to be cold up there,” April complained, following behind her mother and sisters.

“It can’t be helped,” Millie soothed.

When they reached their bedroom, the girls were still grumbling as they climbed into bed. Millie looked up as Malachite paused in the doorway. In his hands was a thick layer of towels.

“Maybe this will help.” He crossed the room and handed it to Millie.

“It’s warm.” She glanced at him in surprise. “What’s in here?”

“Stones. I heated them in the fire,” he explained. “Then I wrapped them in the towels. If you set this under the blankets, the bed will be warm until the girls fall asleep.”