“Look, Mama,” April shouted as Millie’s wagon came to a stop. “I’ve been practicing all afternoon so I could surprise you.”
“You certainly did that.” Millie touched a hand to her heart. “I thought for a minute I was seeing things.”
Malachite made his way to the wagon, and Millie’s heart did another flip. Would it always be this way? she wondered. Would her heart always react in this crazy way whenever he was near?
“I’ve been wondering when you would get here.” He lifted her down, brushing his lips over her face as he did. Then, keeping his arm around her waist, he led her toward the corral. “April wants to show off what she’s learned.”
They stood together, watching as horse and rider made figure eights around the ring.
“She’s turning into a fine horsewoman.”
At the trace of pride in Malachite’s voice, Millie turned to glance at him. “She has a fine teacher.”
“Not to mention an excellent bloodline.”
Millie laughed. “Must you always think about horses?”
“Who said anything about horses?” The look he gave her had her pulse racing.
Just then a horse and cart came from the direction of the bunkhouse. Inside were May and June, seated on either side of Cookie, who held a pipe clenched tightly between his teeth.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Potter,” he called. “Malachite, I thought May was ready to handle the reins.”
Malachite nodded. “Whatever you say, Cookie.”
As they rode past, Malachite glanced up at the sky. “Not a cloud to be found.”
“Now, why would you want clouds on such a perfect day?”
He leaned close, pressing his lips to her temple. “I want a storm. Right now. So you’d have to spend the night.”
“Oh.” She looped her arm through his as the horse and cart rounded the barn. “You could always spend the night at my place in town.”
“Don’t tempt me, woman.” He turned to watch April bring Diablo to a halt and slide easily from the saddle.
“Looks like I have to get back to work. If all goes according to plan, these mustangs should be ready for Fort Denver in another day or two.”
“A day or two?” Her fingers closed over his arm. “You’ll be leaving... so soon?”
“The army’s in a hurry for their horses. And I’m eager to see what price they’ll bring.” Seeing the stricken look in her eyes, he caught her hand in his. “What’s wrong, Millie? You knew that’s what I’d planned.”
“Yes. Of course.” She hoped he didn’t hear the pleading in her tone as she said, “Come to town tonight. At least for supper.”
“I wish I could.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “But I have a meeting tonight.”
“A meeting?”
“With Cal and Gil and a few others.”
She tried to hide her disappointment. “I understand.”
Malachite felt a sudden wave of frustration. She didn’t understand. And he couldn’t explain. “I’ll try to stop by afterward. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.”
Millie watched him walk away. The day had suddenly turned cold. Or was it just the chill around her heart?
* * *
“When I grow up I’m going to train horses with Malachite.” April twirled around the cramped bedroom she shared with her sisters, too excited to settle into bed.
May, tired from her afternoon in the pony cart, yawned. “Is that what Malachite said?”
“No, silly. He doesn’t know. But I’ll tell him soon.” April danced over to the bed, where her mother sat tucking the blankets around little June, who was already sound asleep. “Malachite said I’m good with horses, Mama. Really good.”
“I know, honey.”
“When are we going to marry Malachite?” May asked.
“What?” Millie’s head snapped around.
“We can’t marry Malachite.” April used her big-sister tone of voice. “Only grown-ups can get married.”
“Mama’s a grown-up. Can she marry Malachite?”
“Uh-huh. And Birdie said she’d better.”
“Now, why would Birdie say a thing like that?” Millie demanded.
“Cause Mrs. Thurlong and Mrs. Witherspoon and Mrs. Spitz told everybody that no unmarried lady could spend all that time under the same roof with a man like Malachite without doing something.” The little girl stifled a giggle. “I think they’re talking about kissing, aren’t they, Mama?”
“Yes, honey. I guess they are.” She lifted the covers and waited for her oldest to climb in. Then she pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered, “Don’t forget your prayers.”
“’Night, Mama.”
“Good night, honey.”
Deep in thought, Millie descended the stairs. In the kitchen she began to pace.
Though Malachite’s attitude toward his father had softened, his pride would never permit him to accept anything from Onyx Jewel’s estate. How, then, could she convince him to take on the added burden of a woman with three children?
Suddenly she was reminded of the story Carmelita had told her. Hadn’t she taken a desperate gamble to win the man she loved? And hadn’t she proved that a man, even a poor man, had a right to his pride?
She was as desperate as Carmelita had been. And as hopelessly in love.
Without giving herself time to think through her plan, she hurried next door and asked if Birdie could stay the night.
She had some very serious business to attend to.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Malachite sat with Cal McCabe and his son around a cozy fire in the newly renovated parlor of Onyx Jewel’s first home in the Texas wilderness.
The timbers used to build the original structure would have taken a team of mules to haul. Yet rumor had it that Onyx Jewel had done the work completely alone, his only tool an ax and two strong arms, one more reason for Malachite to admire his father’s tenacity.
“You’re sure, Gil?”
The young man nodded. “Yes, sir. I went over everything you asked for. The numbers don’t lie. I’m sure of my figures.”
“And the wire from St. Louis?”
“It came today. It confirms what you suspected.”
Malachite glanced at Cal. “You know what this means?”
Cal’s eyes narrowed. “I know.” He shook his head. “It’s like we’ve come full circle. First your father. And now you.” He shot Malachite a warning look. “Don’t make the mistake your pa made. Take this to the marshal. Let him handle it.”
“I intend to.” Malachite got to his feet. “And then I have some other... business to attend to.”
He shook hands with Gil and Cal before heading for town.
* * *
“It was kind of you to see me tonight, Byron.” Millie perched uncomfortably on the edge of the chair he had offered her. She’d never been in his office before. It was intimidating, with its mahogany desk and shelves of ledgers.
His very businesslike jacket had been hung carefully over the back of a chair. His sleeves had been rolled above the elbows. Beside his hand was a glass of whiskey. The decanter next to it was half-empty.
“I always have time for business, Millie. You did say this was business, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I... have need of some money.”
“And you thought I’d just loan you some?”
“That’s what bankers do, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.” He folded his hands. “What would you offer in exchange?”
“I thought I could...” Dear heaven. Was she really going to say it? Mick’s house? No, she corrected. Her house. Her legacy. To use as she saw fit. “I thought I could mortgage the house.”
“For what purpose?”
“To... make some repairs.” She felt her face flame. She’d never been good at lying.
“A wise choice. That shabby place could use some repairs.”
It was the way he said it that had her stiffening her spine.
“But there’s no need to mortgage your house.” He steepled his fingers and studied her. “There’s a simple way to get the money you need.”
She arched a brow.
He studied her as though gauging her reaction. “Marry me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He waved aside her protest. “I’m a wealthy man, Millie. I could have Farley Duke and his crew from the sawmill over to your house within the month, turning it into the finest house in town.”
“Byron, you know I don’t love you. Why would you want to marry me?”
He took a sip of the whiskey, enjoying the smooth, aged texture, the quick flash of heat. “I’m tired of living alone. There isn’t much stimulation in a town like Hanging Tree. I want a pretty wife. One who can cook and entertain. One who is well liked by the people here. You are all those things, Millie. And in return, I would improve your lot financially. I could show you things, buy you things you’ve never seen before. Once or twice a year I have to go to St. Louis on business. Naturally you would go along. There would be fine dinners and the theater and shopping.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. What he was offering was cold and empty and meaningless. “And what about my children?”
He gave a little sigh of impatience. “They would be well taken care of. They’ll soon be old enough to go away to school.”
“Away? Byron, they’re practically babies. They’re only five, six and seven.”
“You’re far too protective. I suppose it’s because you were widowed so young. Naturally the children could spend their summers here with us.”
Their summers. “Do you feel any... affection for them at all, Byron?”
He set the tumbler very carefully on the desk blotter, aware that it would leave a ring on the wood. “Of course. They’re... nice little girls. A bit shy for my taste. But they’ll get a fine education. And I’ll see to it that they all make good matches in time.”
Millie clenched her, hands tightly together. “Did you know, until this moment I hadn’t realized that I’ve never heard you speak to them?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“No. It’s the truth. For all the times you’ve been in my house, sat at my table, enjoyed my food and my company, you’ve never said a single word to my daughters.”
“You said yourself, they’re only five, six and seven. Why would I waste my time talking to them?”
“Waste!”
“Are you here to talk about my relationship with your daughters or my relationship with you?”
“We have no relationship. And this discussion is over. I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake.” She stood.
Before she could cross the room he came around his desk and caught her by the arm. “What you’re saying is I’m not good enough for you, but my money is. That is why you came here, isn’t it? To beg?”
She itched to slap his face. Instead she wrapped herself in dignity and said, “I came thinking I could arrange a business deal—to mortgage my house for some much needed money. I never thought of it as begging. And I place too high a value on my daughters and myself to even consider your ridiculous suggestion.”
He drew her close. His voice was an angry hiss. “Your miserable little house isn’t worth the matches it would take to burn it to the ground. The only thing you have of value is yourself. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”
“Take your hands off me.”
With an abruptness that shocked her, his voice, his demeanor changed from cool to crude. “I’ll bet you didn’t say that to the half-breed, did you?”
She looked into his hard, cold eyes and wondered why she had ever thought to come here. “I didn’t realize until now that you have no feelings for anything except your precious money.”
She tried to pull free, but he tightened his grip until she cried out in pain.
“You’re hurting—”
Her words were cut off by his mouth, crushing hers. She broke free but he shoved her hard against the wall and closed a fist in her hair, yanking her head back before pressing himself against her. She could taste the whiskey on his breath, and with it the stench of bitterness. Gone was the smooth veneer of polish he showed to the town. Now there was only cruelty and anger and a driving desire to dominate.
Using all her strength, she managed to push him back.
He reached into his breast pocket. And when he withdrew his hand, he had the satisfaction of hearing her little gasp of shock as she caught sight of the glint of light reflecting off the object he held.
It was a very small, very deadly gun.
* * *
Malachite was still feeling grim after his meeting with Marshal Regan. He had laid out the facts that Gil had uncovered. And the lawman had agreed with his conclusions. There had been a devil in this town, all right. But it hadn’t been a horse. It had been a mean-spirited, moneygrubbing banker, bleeding helpless ranchers dry and playing fast and loose with money that wasn’t his. Malachite wondered how many accounts they’d find in Byron Conner’s name when the audits were complete.
He wondered, too, about the accidents that had been attributed to Diablo. Had Conner somehow been responsible for them, as well? Marshal Regan wasn’t too hopeful about getting a confession. After all, there was a big difference in punishment between bank fraud and murder. And unless the banker was caught red-handed, no jury would believe him capable of such violent acts.
Malachite’s spirits lifted as he neared the boardinghouse. He hoped it wasn’t too late. He didn’t want to have to wake Millie. He wanted her awake and alert to hear what he had to say.
A smile touched his lips. If all went according to plan, she’d soon be in her bed anyway. But he doubted either of them would get much sleep tonight.
He was relieved when he saw the faint flicker of a lantern. With a light heart he knocked on the back door. After several minutes the door was opened. Birdie poked her head out.
“Evening, Birdie. I’m looking for Millie.”
“She isn’t here, Mr. Jewel.”
He grinned. “Something going on at church tonight?”
“No, sir. She said she was meeting Mr. Conner at the bank.”
Malachite’s smile was wiped from his face. His blood froze. Without a word he spun away and began to run. With every step, he prayed that he wasn’t too late.
* * *
Millie’s breath was coming hard and fast as she struggled to hold Byron at bay. But he was strong. And seething with fury.
“You think you’re too good for me?” He had a hand on her throat and began to squeeze until she could feel herself fading. “When I’m through with you, even the half-breed won’t want you.”
She managed to free one hand and raked it across his cheek.
With a hiss of pain he slapped her so hard her head snapped to one side. But just as he grasped her by the throat again, the door to his office was shoved open.
“Working late, I see.” Malachite’s voice was deadly calm. Only the muscle in his jaw gave any evidence of the depth of his fury.
He’d come here with no plan except to save Millie. Now, seeing the gun in Byron’s hand, he knew he would have to move carefully. He couldn’t do anything that would put her at risk.
He closed the door and leaned against it in a careless pose, one foot crossed over the other, his arms folded over his chest. “Is this the only way you can get a woman?”
Byron locked an arm around Millie’s throat and pressed the gun to her temple. “She thinks she’s your woman. She’s wrong. Now, drop your gun, Jewel, and kick it over here. Or I’ll blow her pretty face off.”
Malachite tried not to look at Millie as he tossed his pistol aside. It hurt too much to see the bruise on the side of her temple and the pain in her eyes. Her hair, her beautiful, fiery hair, now fell in tangles around her cheeks. Cheeks wet with tears.
“Is this any way for a banker to treat his clients? How the hell do you expect to get away w
ith it?” His voice was still soft, though the anger was beginning to seep through. “Do you think you can abuse her and then just let her go? Do you think Millie is the kind of woman who will keep her mouth shut about something like this?”
“If she wants her precious daughters to live, she’ll have no choice.”
He heard Millie’s gasp of pain and decided to change tactics. He couldn’t bear to hurt her any more than she was already hurt.
“Everything’s changed now, Byron. I’m here. And you’ll have to kill me to shut me up, won’t you?”
“It won’t be as much pleasure as I’d planned for Millie. But I can handle it.”
“I’ll bet you can. You’ve killed before, haven’t you, Conner?”
“What are you saying?” Millie asked.
“Tell her,” Malachite said. “Tell her about all those cowboys who died mysteriously while hunting Diablo.”
“Are you suggesting that I’d know something about them?” Byron’s lips peeled back in a sneer. “How could I have managed that?”
“By trailing them until they were far enough from town so nobody could hear a gunshot. It was a simple enough matter to leave their bodies where they’d be disposed of by wolves or other scavengers.”
Byron’s eyes glittered, and for a moment it seemed he would admit his crimes. But then he seemed to think better of it. “Maybe you think I caused the blizzard, too?”
“I’ll allow the blizzard,” Malachite said. “Even you don’t have that kind of power. But let’s talk about the times Millie’s wagon was tampered with and her daughters were nearly killed.”
“I’m sure I can find folks in this town who will swear I was here at the bank when it happened.”
“Of course you can. But when I took the wagon to Neville Oakley for repair, he confirmed what I suspected. The axle on Millie’s wagon had been deliberately cut in such a way that the accident would occur out on the trail.”
He saw the startled look in Millie’s eyes.
Byron gave a chilling smile. “And you think I did it?”
“You could have gone into Millie’s shed without notice.”
“So could half the town.”
“That’s true. But I began to wonder what the purpose of that accident had been. Was it merely to get rid of me? A gunshot along the trail would have been simpler and cleaner. But maybe there was something more to it.”
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