Tin-Stars and Troublemakers Box Set (Four Complete Historical Western Romance Novels in One)

by Rice, Patricia

  She yielded only for a moment before turning her head away to say, "I really have to get back inside."

  Releasing her, he stepped back, rubbing at his temples with his fingers. He turned his back on her to stare at her father's grave beneath the tree, anger helplessly rising as he silently cursed Judd Calhoun for dying when he had. It wasn't fair, damn it...

  He admonished himself for being so childish and whirled back around. "I'm sorry," he said wearily. Then, attempting to lighten the mood, "I want to see you wear the necklace again," he said. "I'll never forget how it looked on you."

  Jacie thought of it, wrapped in a handkerchief and hidden beneath her mattress. "I will. Now I really do have to get back to my mother." She hated to seem ungrateful or cold, but too much was happening. Her mind was spinning.

  He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "I'll be back in the morning."

  She went into the cabin to find Sudie standing in the middle of the room staring at her with frightened eyes. "Your momma's been talkin' funny," she said.

  The child was obviously upset, and as much as Jacie longed to rush to her mother, she instead dropped to her knees in front of Sudie to clutch her shoulders and say, "There's no reason for you to be afraid. This means she's getting better."

  "No, it don't, 'cause she's been talkin' to your daddy like he's still alive, but he ain't, so that means she's talkin' to his ghost."

  "There's no such thing as ghosts." Jacie stared past her into the bedroom. Her mother had likely been talking in her sleep. She gave Sudie a hug. "I'll go see about her now. I won't be long." Then Jacie entered the room quietly and eased into the chair beside the bed. Her mother appeared to be sleeping, but the chair squeaked ever so slightly and Violet's eyes flashed open.

  "Jacie," she whispered feebly, raising a wan, beckoning hand.

  Jacie leaned to clasp her fingers, alarmed at how cold they were. "Are you feeling better?" she asked anxiously. "Let me get you some soup. You need to eat."

  "No. Listen. There's something I have to tell you before I go."

  "Don't talk like that. You're going to get your strength back and everything is going to be fine. You'll see." Jacie forced a smile.

  Despite her frailty, Violet was able to muster the strength to squeeze Jacie's hand almost hard enough to hurt her. "You have to listen. I don't want to live, child. I want to die, but first I've got to make peace with my Maker. I can't do that till I confess to you what I did. You have to know."

  Jacie could only stare at her expectantly, and for some strange reason, fearfully as well.

  "Now do what I tell you." Violet raised herself up to point to a dark corner of the room. "Go to my trunk, over there. Take everything out. There's a false bottom. Lift that up. You'll find a blanket there. Bring it to me." She sank back against the pillows.

  Jacie did as she was told. The trunk was old. Her mother had had it as long as she could remember, using it to store linens. Jacie removed everything, then felt the bottom and realized it was indeed loose. Lifting it out, she found a soft bundle.

  Her mother held out her arms for the bundle she had concealed for so many years. Jacie gave it to her and watched curiously as she ran her fingers along the blanket's hem.

  Violet felt the telltale lump. From time to time in the past, as the thread had dry-rotted she had restitched the seam, but now she did not have the strength to break it. "Help me," she said.

  Why on earth, Jacie wondered in alarm, was she wanting to rip open the hem of a blanket? Maybe she really was losing her mind. She started to take it from her, "This can wait till tomorrow. I'm going to get you some soup."

  Violet held firm to the blanket. "No." Her eyes narrowed with determination. "Break the threads, Jacie. You have to see what's inside."

  Jacie was bewildered. Leaning closer, she saw the bulge she had not noticed before.

  "I couldn't tell you while Judd was alive." Violet felt herself becoming dizzier by the minute as the shadows were coming closer, reaching out for her. She prayed for enough time to tell her story. Only then could she die in peace, when her soul was at last cleansed of the sin of deceit that had tormented her for eighteen years.

  "Judd would have been angry with me for not telling him the truth. He would have left me, and I couldn't let that happen, because I was foolish enough to think I could make him love me. I never stopped trying, and it wasn't till he died that I realized what a fool I'd been. He could never love anybody except her."

  "My aunt Iris." Jacie wondered what her father's infatuation with her aunt had to do with the blanket and whatever secret her mother had kept from him.

  "Help me rip the seam open, and you will understand."

  Jacie decided to humor her. With a quick snap, she broke the threads and was surprised to see a locket and a small leather pouch inside.

  "I never touched any of the money," Violet said, indicating the pouch. "I don't even know how much is there. I felt it belonged to you."

  Jacie focused on the locket. Opening it, she gasped at her own likeness. "It's a daguerreotype, and it looks like me."

  Just then, Sudie started through the door, curious to see if everything was all right. Before anyone noticed her she saw Miss Jacie holding up what looked like a tiny painting of a woman and heard Miss Violet say something that made her freeze in her tracks.

  "That is your mother."

  Backing away, Sudie went to stand outside the door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but could not resist after what she had just overheard.

  Jacie looked from the locket to Violet in astonishment. "No. It can't be."

  "It is. She was your mother, not your aunt. And her husband Luke was not your uncle, he was your father."

  Jacie shook her head. She could not grasp what was being said. Her mother had to be out of her head, yet, as Jacie continued to regard her own image, something told her Violet spoke the truth.

  "You and I were spared when the Indians killed them and your brothers, so I told Judd you were his child. He never suspected anything, because he didn't know our own baby had been born dead a few days earlier."

  "Why are you telling me this now? Why did you lie to me, and to Daddy, all these years?"

  "Because it was like fate meant for me to, so I wouldn't lose him. Iris had given you to me to nurse that morning, because I still had milk for my own baby, and it was making me sick. I had to get rid of it. So I took you and walked away from the wagons and off into the bushes, and that's where I was when they attacked, and..." Harsh rasping sounds came from deep within her chest, making it difficult for her to talk. When she finally caught her breath, she begged, "You've got to understand that I only did it because I loved Judd so much, and I thought Iris was dead, so what good would it have done anybody for me to tell the truth? If Judd had left me then, how could I have taken care of you?"

  Jacie's gaze had been fixed on the picture of her mother. Slowly, something terrible dawned on her. She looked up at Violet. "You said you thought she was dead. Didn't you know for sure?"

  "I thought I did... then. You see, I fainted, Jacie. It was all too much. The last thing I remember seeing was your father being killed as he tried to protect your mother."

  "But you didn't see her die?"

  "No. And when the soldiers counted bodies after I told them how many people were in the caravan, a woman was missing."

  Jacie was having difficulty taking it all in. "So she could actually have been spared."

  Violet explained that the soldiers had not thought so then, and sadly, neither had she or Judd. "We figured maybe animals had dragged one of the bodies away, but then something happened about ten years ago that made me wonder."

  Jacie tensed. "Go on."

  "A man who was once a Texas Ranger with Judd came through on his way east to make a new life. Judd wasn't around, he'd gone off hunting, so the man talked to me. He wanted to tell us about something strange that had happened at a place called Bird's Fort. A white woman had been found living among the Coman
che. The army rescued her, but she ran away, back to the Indians."

  Jacie's eyes went wide. "What makes you think that could have been my—my mother?"

  "She had lavender eyes like he'd never seen before. The Ranger remembered Judd telling about his sister-in-law's pretty lavender eyes, so he thought Judd should know there was a chance Iris might still be alive, living with the Indians, especially since they were Comanche, the same as attacked the caravan."

  "Oh my God," Jacie breathed. "Why didn't you tell him? How could you keep it from him?"

  Violet seemed to shrink into the pillows, pressed by the weight of her conscience as she defended herself. "Because there was no real proof, but that wouldn't have made any difference to Judd. He'd have gone to Texas anyway, and whether or not he found her, he would have hated me for deceiving him all those years. I'd never have seen him again. I couldn't risk that, don't you see? As for Iris, if she was that woman, she was obviously happy where she was or she wouldn't have run away to go back there. It was just best to leave it all alone."

  "But you had no right to make that decision!"

  Violet nodded feebly. "I know, child, I know. I've lived with the misery of knowing that all these years, but I did what I felt was right. Now I see I was wrong, and I had to tell you so you can do what you want about it, and I can die in peace," she finished lamely.

  Jacie looked at the daguerreotype again. What should she do? If her mother were still alive, she knew she wanted to find her, but if Michael found out, he would try to convince her it would be futile to look for her now. He would insist it was best to leave the past alone. And of course his mother would have another attack of the vapors to think her son might actually be marrying the daughter of a woman who lived with Indians. None of that mattered to Jacie, not if there was even the remotest chance she could be reunited with her real mother, for now she understood so much and knew, at last, why the people she had thought of as her parents had lived together in such misery.

  "Can you forgive me?" Violet asked pitifully, wretchedly. "In my way, I've loved you, tried to be a good mother to you."

  Jacie took her hand. Now was not the time to condemn. "There's nothing to forgive. You did what you thought was best and I love you, too. You've got to get well and—" Jacie stared in horror to see that Violet's head had suddenly lolled to one side, and her fingers, which Jacie still held, had gone limp.

  Violet's eyes glazed over while still fixed upon Jacie, as though frozen in a plea for understanding and pardon, even in death.

  In the silence that followed, Sudie dared to steal a peek inside the room, then covered her mouth in terror and fled noiselessly out to the front porch. Miss Violet was dead.

  She sat down in the swing and waited. Soon Miss Jacie would come and tell her she had to run get Master Blake from the big house. Oh, she felt so sorry for Miss Jacie to think how she'd just found out Miss Violet wasn't her real momma just before she died, and that her real momma didn't even know Miss Jacie was alive.

  Sudie wasn't sure what it all meant but her heart sure went out to Miss Jacie.

  Chapter 7

  It had been nearly three weeks since Violet's death, and Michael was becoming more concerned about Jacie with each passing day. He knew it had to be a terrible ordeal for her to lose both her parents within such a short period of time, but he feared if she did not snap out of her doldrums, she was going to grieve herself to death as her mother had done.

  He had brought her to the house despite her protests, putting her in the guest suite opposite Verena and Elyse.

  He had agreed, of course, to allow Violet to be buried next to Judd but did not like Jacie visiting the graves every day to sit and brood for hours. One afternoon after lunch he insisted she come to his study.

  She sat across from Michael, who regarded her from behind his desk, and stared down at her hands folded in her lap as he went on and on about how she had to stop mourning so deeply. He expressed his sympathy and understanding but reminded her, ever so gently, that Dr. Foley had said her mother willed herself to die. "I don't want you to follow after her, Jacie," he said, frowning. "You hardly eat. You're losing weight and you don't look well at all."

  With so much on her mind, she wished everyone would just leave her alone. "I don't feel like eating."

  "That has to change. I called you here to tell you that I want you to stop going to your parents' graves so often. I think it's keeping you depressed and is probably one of the reasons you don't have an appetite."

  "Well, I won't stop!" she cried.

  "It's for your own good."

  "It's none of your business. Michael, I'm moving back to the cabin. I insist. I want to be alone for a while."

  He was unmoved by her anger. "I won't allow it."

  "You can't stop me. And I never should have let you bring me here after the funeral, but I didn't want to argue—then," she added pointedly.

  "Jacie, darling, I don't like to seem dictatorial, but that cabin belongs to me and I decide who lives there. Now you're here in this house, and I want you to think of it as your home, because it is, and as soon as you are ready we will be married. You will move into the master suite with me. Forget the cabin. Life has to go on. I'm having your personal belongings brought here, because I'm going to let one of the other artisans and his family move into the cabin."

  "You can't do that—not yet," she said so sharply that Michael was taken back. She was thinking of the trunk. She had returned the blanket, along with the locket and the money pouch, to the hiding place in the false bottom and had been unable to bring herself to take it out since her mother—no, her aunt Violet, she reminded herself—had showed it to her.

  "Well, maybe we can wait a few more days," Michael conceded, seeing how upset she was and thinking how he would have to speak to Dr. Foley about giving her something for her nerves. "But I want you to promise you'll stop going to the graves so often. I'd like you to get your mind on other things. I'm going to be leaving for Charleston early tomorrow morning. Cousin Verena just received a letter from her lawyer saying her house has been sold, and she wants me to go with her to help take care of things. Mother is going, too. Elyse has very kindly offered to stay here and be company for you."

  "That's sweet of her, but it's not necessary."

  "She wants to get to know you better. I shouldn't be away for long—"

  Olivia burst into the room without knocking, face flushed. She sank into the nearest chair and began to fan herself with her handkerchief as she wailed, "You've got to do something about that crazy old Indian, Michael. I heard he was at one of the slaves' cabins last night, handing out one of his potions. It terrifies me to know he's sneaking around here. I want guards posted. The next time he comes around, shoot the dirty savage."

  Michael was aghast to hear his mother speak of such violent measures, but before he could utter a word, Jacie had leapt to Mehlonga's defense. "Don't you dare order him shot, and he's not a savage. He's kind to a fault, and he's only trying to help. Dr. Foley doesn't care if a Negro is sick so someone has to look out for them."

  "Oh, my..." Olivia's hand fluttered to her throat. She looked at Michael, her face twisting with anger. "Now do you see why I insisted you make her disassociate herself from that old fool? She is absolutely impudent, taking up for him. What will people think?"

  "I'm not listening to this." Jacie rose and stalked from the room, ignoring Michael's furious command that she return.

  She knew she had to get away and be by herself for a while. When she had gotten only halfway to the cabin, she heard someone coming on horseback and knew it was Michael. She rushed into the woods, then made her way up through the hills to the secret place where she hoped to find Mehlonga.

  He came, as always, and she poured out her soul to him, telling him everything she had learned the night Violet Calhoun had died. He listened quietly, absorbing every word.

  "I know your heart bleeds to find out if your real mother is still alive. What are you going to do?"
he asked her when she'd finished.

  "She's probably dead. I know that. I only wish she could have known about me. She wouldn't have gone back to the Comanche once she was rescued. I don't understand why she did, anyway, when she was given the chance to return to civilization."

  "Who can know what was in her heart? She had been living with them for many years. You must remember, you do not know for sure that the woman was your mother."

  "No, I don't." Jacie stared up at the cerulean sky as though she might find the answers to all her problems there.

  Suddenly he asked, "Has the spirit of love spoken to your heart?"

  She gave a dismal sigh. "No, but I would have accepted Michael's proposal that night."

  "Because you thought you had no choice."

  Jacie did not like thinking of it that way but knew he was right. "I suppose."

  "And now?"

  She gave a helpless shrug. "I suppose I still don't. He says he wants us to marry right away, because I need someone to take care of me. He's moving another family into the cabin, and I won't have a home, nowhere to go." She sighed again. "I really don't have any choice, Mehlonga. But I shouldn't feel that way. He'll be good to me. I know he will."

  "What if you did have somewhere else to go?"

  She looked at him sharply. "What are you talking about?"

  "I have made the decision to leave here. I am getting too old to sneak around the plantations and risk getting shot. I do not move as quickly as I used to. It is time for me to go west and spend what time I have left with my people. I will take you with me if you want to go. I will see that you get to this place you spoke of in Texas—Bird's Fort. You can start your search for your mother there.

  "And if you do not find her," he added mysteriously, "perhaps you will find something else."

  Jacie was too excited to ponder his words. "I could do it, couldn't I? I have the money hidden in the blanket. I could go out there and look for her. Even though it's been years, surely someone will still be around to remember a white woman who rejected freedom to return to her captors."