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

by Rice, Patricia

  Michael slammed his fist on the desk and bolted to his feet. "That's enough, Mother. I won't listen to such filthy lies, and I'll have the heads of those spreading them. Who told you all this? I want their names."

  Olivia shrank back in her chair. She had never seen him so angry. "Well, actually," she hedged, "I didn't hear it. Verena did."

  "Verena!" He spat the name. "I might have known. She loves to stir up trouble. I wish to hell she'd go back to Charleston."

  "They don't have a house there anymore, remember? She wants to find a smaller place, but with winter coming on, she wants to wait till spring to do anything. And she is your father's kin. I certainly can't ask her to leave. We've had enough impropriety at Red Oakes," she added pointedly.

  Michael gritted his teeth at the thought of having to endure Verena for such a long time. "Well, if she's going to stay, she's going to have to keep her mouth shut and stay out of my business. I'm not going to have her upsetting you."

  "Jacie has managed to do enough to upset me for a long time to come. Verena doesn't have to say a word. And by the way, I should think you'd be concerned about poor Elyse. She's making herself sick, she feels so bad about all this. She adores you, and it breaks her heart to know you're taking this so hard."

  "I can't help it. I love Jacie and you know it."

  "You're better off without her, and sooner or later you'll come to your senses and realize that. She was not of our class. I just wish we'd found out about her earlier. Then you wouldn't have made such a fool of yourself by giving her that necklace. I'll wager she and Zach get a pretty price for it, and they'll laugh at you the whole time they're spending the money—"

  "That's enough!" Michael cried. His face turned ashen. The necklace, damn it. He had forgotten all about the necklace.

  "Where are you going?" Olivia demanded as he hurried toward the door. The expression on his face was fearsome.

  "To talk to the servants. I want to see how much they're willing to tell me."

  She got up to follow after him. "Forget them. Forget Jacie and say good riddance. It's Elyse you should be talking to."

  The front door slammed on her words and Michael hurtled down the wide marble steps, taking them two at a time. Somebody had to have heard something, seen something. It was a big plantation, with hundreds of slaves, and they were the ones he could make talk. He had no intentions of demeaning himself by discussing his fiancée's infidelity with his overseers. The slaves were a different matter. And he'd dare them to gossip about his interrogation of them.

  Fiancée.

  The word rolled around in his mouth like bile and he screwed up his face in loathing.

  Though he had not let himself dwell on it, Jacie had never said she loved him; but he had assumed she did. Just as he had assumed she would marry him, which she probably would have, if only for his money. Then she and Zach would have continued to be lovers behind his back. Only when her parents died and she had her greedy little hands on the necklace had she decided to take it and leave with Zach.

  How could he have been so blind? Fuming, he rounded the house and entered the rear yards, Jacie and Zach probably became lovers while he was in Europe, and when he returned, distracted by grief and sudden responsibilities, it was easy for them to deceive him. Never had he suspected anything. Whenever Jacie seemed aloof, Michael thought she was just being coquettish. Now, with rage a hot fist squeezing the very life from him, Michael knew she had been thinking about Zach all the while.

  And she could have him, he raged, but by God, he would be damned if she would have the necklace too. If he could find out in which direction they had headed, he was going after it.

  The sky was a huge gray hand, reaching across the earth with rings of silver lightning and fingers dancing to the rhythm of thunder. Trees bowed in fear as the winds slashed and crackled like giant, punishing whips.

  A bad storm was rapidly approaching, but it was not only the threatening clouds that made those in Michael's path run for cover—it was the raw tempest in his eyes.

  He passed the kitchen buildings with determined steps as the first drops of rain began to fall. The cooling rooms and smokehouses appeared deserted, but the washwomen scurried frantically toward the lines as the winds threatened to snatch the laundry and fling it into the sky.

  The chicken pen was hidden behind a thick row of crepe myrtle bushes. Skirting around them, Michael walked with angry strides down the path leading to the whitewashed slave cabins.

  Nearby, a tree was hit by lightning and went crashing to the ground. In the fields, cotton flew through the air like snow.

  Michael was soaked within seconds, his hair plastered to his head. But storm or no storm, he was going to get some answers, and he was going to start with Sudie, whom he had not seen since his return. The girl was assigned to watch Jacie, so she might have seen or heard something but not dared to tell anyone.

  By the time he reached the rows of shacks, the storm had exploded and the rains came down so violently he could barely see where he was going. Stumbling into the first cabin he came to, Michael yelled, "Find the girl named Sudie. Bring her to me here, and the rest of you get out."

  They scurried to obey, a man, his wife, and two teenage children. Michael felt bad about the fear in their eyes, for he had never screamed at any of them in such a way, but he was desperate. His nerves were raw, and he feared he was reaching the breaking point.

  He stumbled about the cabin, noting its bleakness. A large bed with a wooden bedstead stood in one corner opposite two smaller beds on the other side of the room. There was a table and a few chairs, hooks on the wall to hang clothes. The floor was dirt, and there was a crumbling stone fireplace for cooking and heating. No glass was in the windows, and the shutters had been fastened against the storm, which made the room stifling hot. He knew he should have been aware of the poor conditions but had let other matters take precedence. He made a mental note to see to it after he settled things with Jacie, then realized he was no longer alone.

  Sudie was standing in the doorway, her dress plastered to her body, hair soaked and matted. She was shaking, but Michael knew it was not from being wet. He beckoned her inside and she came reluctantly. He went to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, indicating she should sit opposite.

  Sudie took a few more hesitant steps, then stopped, thinking that if she stayed close to the door, she could run if he tried to beat her.

  "Sudie, I am not going to hurt you," Michael began patiently, "I just want to ask you a few questions about Miss Jacie. You are aware she has gone away, aren't you?"

  Sudie mumbled that she was. Right then she wished she were anywhere but here, with Master Blake asking questions she did not want to answer. She had been afraid he would ask sooner or later, but when days passed after Miss Jacie took off and she wasn't sent for, Sudie figured she could rest easy—but not anymore.

  "Before she left, you were told to stay with her in case she needed you to do anything. Did you stay with her all the time, sleep in the room with her?"

  "I slept outside her door on the floor when she was at her cabin, and when she moved to the big house I slept in that little place where she gets dressed. How come you're askin' me all this?" she suddenly became bold enough to ask.

  Michael silently cursed, wishing he dared come right out and ask whether she had ever seen Newton sneaking in, or if Jacie had sneaked out and if they had sent messages back and forth. But Sudie was a child. She might repeat his questions despite his warning her not to. He could not take that chance.

  Deciding to try another ploy, he got up and went to kneel before her. With his hands clamped on her little waist, he looked into her wary eyes and explained very gently, "I'm worried about Miss Jacie, Sudie. I don't know where she is and I hoped you could tell me something that might help me find her."

  Sudie frowned, confused. She had seen Miss Jacie write Master Blake a letter and leave it on his desk, so why was he worried?

  He attempted to trick her
by adding, "She's all alone, and that's not good. She needs somebody to look out for her, so I think I'd better go see about her. Don't you agree?"

  So that was it. Sudie suddenly brightened. Miss Jacie forgot to tell him where she was going, but she could put his mind at ease, because it wouldn't be wrong for her to tell what she heard Miss Jacie say aloud, because Miss Jacie didn't know she'd heard her, so Sudie hadn't had to promise she wouldn't repeat it. And she certainly didn't have to give away the secret about how Miss Violet wasn't Miss Jacie's real momma, 'cause he hadn't asked her nothing about that.

  "Can you think of anything that might help me find her?" he prodded.

  "You ain't got nothin' to worry about, sir, 'cause I heard her talkin' to herself and she was sayin' how some man was gonna take her to Texas. But she told me she'd be back in the spring," she added happily.

  Sure she will, Michael thought grimly. She had her lover, the necklace. She would never come back, knowing he'd be waiting to wring her neck if she did. He forced a smile. "Well, I can't wait till spring, Sudie. I'm still worried something will happen to her. Now, where in Texas was she going? Did you hear her say?"

  Sudie tried to remember the name.

  Michael ran a hand across his eyes in frustration. He was wasting his time. It was hopeless. He couldn't just strike out after her. Texas was a big place, and why the hell had they gone there anyway? But he would be damned if he would give up, not when she'd had the nerve to keep his engagement gift. That was a slap in the face he could not tolerate. He was going to find them, even if it meant swallowing his pride by questioning the overseers. One of them might have heard something. Maybe after being fired, Zach could not resist bragging about how he was taking the boss's fiancée with him. According to his mother, the servants were gossiping, so eventually he would find a clue that might point him in the right direction.

  "What's a fort, Master Blake?" Sudie asked all of a sudden.

  Michael felt hope surging once more. "It's a place where there are soldiers, Sudie. Why? Did Miss Jacie say she was going to a fort in Texas?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Think hard." He tried to keep the excitement from his voice so as not to scare her. Already his mind was whirling, making plans. He would hire some men out of Atlanta to go with him. He wanted strangers, paid to do their job and then forget about it.

  "I can't remember," she said, disappointed, because she did want to help him. If he was worried about Miss Jacie, then so was she.

  His heart was pounding. "Did she say Fort Worth? Or Fort Clark?" Offhand, those were the only two he could think of.

  Sudie had been so proud to think she could help Master Blake bring Miss Jacie home, but now she felt bad not to be able to remember the funny name and could only tell him, "It came before."

  Michael mustered all his patience, because he wanted to grab her and shake it out of her. "What came before, Sudie?"

  "The name of the fort. Feathers."

  He ground his teeth together, told himself to keep calm. "Fort Feathers?" He swallowed hard, feeling foolish.

  "No. It makes me think of feathers. I'm tryin' to remember."

  "Think very hard, Sudie. I'll see that you get a real doll," he added impulsively, noticing the toy made of corn shucks that she clutched to her bosom.

  "That would be real nice."

  A faint squawking sound made them suddenly look out the front door in time to see a small sparrow caught up in the wind before it was swept helplessly away.

  "A bird!" Sudie cried, her memory suddenly jolted. "That's it. I heard her say a bird's fort in Texas. What kind of place is that, Master Blake? Is it far away?"

  Bird's Fort. Michael had no idea where it was, just as he had no idea why Zach had taken Jacie there.

  But, for sure, he would find both answer and reason.

  Sudie watched him as he bolted out into the rain, disappearing into the swirling gray mist, and wondered if he would remember his promise to get her a real doll.

  Chapter 12

  By the time Jacie and Mehlonga arrived at Fort Smith, Arkansas, at the edge of the eastern border of Indian Territory, Jacie was quite skilled with her knife. It was concealed and strapped just above her right ankle. She could stoop in pretense of lacing her shoe and have the weapon in her hand, ready to strike within seconds. Not only had Mehlonga taught her close combat, but with his guidance she'd become expert at throwing the blade. She could hit dead center any target as far away as thirty feet.

  Mehlonga had also endeavored to share all of his knowledge of herbs and potions and was satisfied she could match wits with any shaman or medicine man.

  "I will not worry about you," he told her confidently, then added in one of his rare attempts at humor, "only those foolish enough to challenge you."

  At a trading post along the way, they had met a Cherokee girl who was married to the owner. Mehlonga persuaded her to sell Jacie one of her own skin dresses, telling Jacie how the deer hide would be much more comfortable than her muslin dress. The girl also included a beaded headband, to keep Jacie's long hair out of her face.

  Jacie quickly discovered Mehlonga was right about the native clothes. They were more suitable for long hours of riding, and by then she had learned it made no difference whether those they passed thought they were Indian. But before they arrived at Fort Smith she changed, fearing the soldiers might not be so ready to help her in her quest to reach Texas. With her skin bronzed by long hours riding in the sun, she could easily be mistaken for an Indian.

  When finally they reached the fort, Jacie found it difficult to say good-bye to the man who had become so dear to her. "But we must part," Mehlonga told her solemnly. "We have separate paths to follow in this life."

  She was close to tears. "I won't ever see you again, will I?"

  "In another world. Till then, go in peace." He placed a firm hand on her shoulder and looked deep into her eyes as he said huskily, "Be still and listen, my child, so that when your heart speaks, you will hear it."

  Mehlonga had sought and found a young Cherokee working at the post as a scout. His name was Tehlwah, and when Mehlonga asked him to take Jacie to Bird's Fort, he was reluctant but agreed out of respect for the shaman.

  There was much trouble in that area, Tehlwah said. They would have to ride hard and fast, keeping out of sight as much as possible, because the Comanche were on the warpath. Jacie assured him she could keep up.

  As Tehlwah predicted, the journey was arduous. They traded horses along the way so they could continue without having to pause for them to rest. And though Jacie was exhausted, she dared not ask to stop but was always grateful when Tehlwah did so. But they slept only a few hours at night, because he knew the way even in the dark and wanted to reach their destination quickly so he could retreat from the dreaded Comanche country.

  She kept a wary eye as they rode through the rolling and rugged land, by mesquite groves that crowded spiny cactus. The weather was warm, even though back home in Georgia it would be fall, cool and crisp.

  Home.

  She felt the lump in her throat whenever she thought about the life she had left behind. Despite having an escort she was lonely and afraid.

  She was relieved when one evening near sunset they reached the Trinity River. Tehlwah pointed upriver and said, "The fort is that way. Perhaps a half day's ride. We sleep now."

  He gave her a few strips of beef jerky and she ate ravenously. They had been riding steadily for nearly a week, and jerky, fruit, and nuts had been their diet, and not much of it. Tehlwah had refused to make a fire for cooking small game they could have caught, explaining that smoke would draw the enemy right to them. So Jacie would eat what she was given, then spread her big blanket on the ground and fall asleep at once, despite the hungry rumblings of her stomach.

  But that night by the Trinity River, Jacie was so hungry she felt gnawing pains. She commanded herself not to think about food. The trip was almost over. The first thing she planned to do when she got to the fort was eat the
biggest meal she could get, because the past few days she'd felt herself growing weaker.

  When she slept she dreamed about food. Visions of tasty meals at Violet's table blended into memories of the scrumptious summer barbecues on the sprawling lawns of Red Oakes. She dreamed she was feasting on crispy fried chicken and thick slices of ham and sampling huge helpings of vegetables fresh from the garden—snap beans, butter beans, peas, and tangy sliced tomatoes. Chunks of crispy golden corn bread spilled from baskets, and everywhere there were cakes and pies of every kind.

  But it was the hickory pits that made her mouth water, and the smell of the slowly roasting pigs. She could actually feel the heat rising from the glowing embers, blistering her face. So hot. But should it be so hot? She had always heard barbecuing had to be done slowly, so the meat would be done through, tender and...

  She awoke with a start.

  It was not the heat from her delicious dream of barbecue that scorched her face; it was the sun, the midmorning sun, blazing down mercilessly to heat her skin.

  Scrambling to her feet, she looked about wildly for Tehlwah but knew instinctively she would not find him. Always they started out while it was still dark. The sun being so high in the sky could mean only one thing—he had abandoned her.

  Her first thought was that he might have stolen her horse, but the mare was right where she had left her. Tehlwah had brought her within a few hours' ride of the fort and then for whatever reason had decided not to go farther. He would not steal from the charge of a shaman of his people. So she did not bother to examine the small blanket where her treasures were hidden.

  She resolved there was nothing to be done but make it the rest of the way on her own. After a quick bath in the river, she put on her one good dress, brushed her hair till it was dry and shiny, and then set out, following along the banks of the Trinity.

  Rounding a bend at midday, she breathed a sigh of relief to finally see the fort just ahead and urged the horse into a gallop, eager to reach her destination at last.