She stood and used her long fingers to push her unbound brown hair from her face. Red paint coated her lips and black paint ringed her eyes, giving her a raccoon look. Sunburn seared her short nose and high cheekbones. “Hullo, fella.”
“Who… are… you?” he growled through clenched teeth.
The hem of her purple dress cut short in the front, near her crotch, and the back hung low to her ankles. “I’m Violet.” She cupped her breasts, spilling from the low V-neck collar. “See, suga, I always wear my favorite color.” When she lifted her chin, silver hoops jingled from her earlobes.
“Did my parents invite you here?” Cogs help him if Clark had brought a Tarnished Silver to the ranch. Knowing his mother, she’d want to rehabilitate the woman, and Amethyst… who knew what Amethyst would do? His sister would probably beg for whore lessons.
Violet licked her lips. “Your parents. Are you a Treasure?” She stepped forward and tapped his chest with one of her inch-long fingernails.
Scowling, Jeremiah stepped around her and took the porch stairs two at a time. Alyssa could wait with the driver. His boots thudded the boards as he burst through the front door. “Father? Mother?”
The air stank of unwashed bodies, tobacco, and moonshine, the rough kind. Dirt speckled the floor, along with streaks of mud and scuffs on the boards. Dirt handprints created a picture across the walls, and the hall table, once adorned with a vase of flowers, lay empty.
What had the army done?
Jeremiah ran toward the kitchen. “Nolan!” The Bromi would appear in the doorway, wiping flour off his hands onto his apron, or holding a tray of ginger cookies, his specialty.
A man slumped on the floor. He belonged to the army, judging by his blue uniform. One hand laid overhead, the other across his belly, and he snored.
Greenwood. Where would that bloody imbecile be?
Whatever place didn’t want him the most.
Jeremiah kicked open the office door, already open a crack, and let it bang his father’s globe. Greenwood jerked where he sat at the desk, a glass stylus in hand and papers sprawled against the once polished mahogany. A glass of frothing beer sat next to him. Jeremiah glanced at his father’s liquor cabinet, the glass door left open, the shelves empty. Greenwood had already finished off the good stuff.
“Jeremiah,” the captain said after a pause, as if finally remembering his name. “Wondered when you’d get home. The telegram said sometime today.”
“Where are my parents?”
“Gone.” Greenwood shrugged.
Jeremiah stomped across the room to slam his fists onto the desktop. “Where are my parents?”
Greenwood picked up his inkwell. “Careful or you’ll spill everything.” He flared his nostrils. “They’re gone. I told you.”
“What does that bloody mean?” Jeremiah shoved the papers off the desk. They drifted across the floor, as filthy as the hallway.
Greenwood sighed. “Did you know they were protecting a dangerous criminal?”
“What?”
“Clark, my dear boy.” Greenwood shoved the cork stopper into his ink bottle. “He’s wanted by the government for crimes against his country—our country. As the army, it’s our duty to apprehend such villains.”
Jeremiah gritted his teeth to keep from telling just how much he knew about Greenwood and Clark. That wouldn’t help. Information had to be protected until he could use it.
“Your family tried to protect him,” Greenwood continued. “That makes them wanted criminals. They’ve committed treason against the country.”
Jeremiah needed to sit—his head whirled and his ears built with pressure that threatened to pop—but that would make him less powerful. He needed to remain upright, lord it over Greenwood. “You bastard.”
“No, that’s your brother,” the captain smirked. “Before you try to punch me, boy, keep in mind you’re now the head Treasure. All this belongs to you.”
“My father isn’t dead.” Gone. “You wouldn’t kill him. That’s against the law. You could lose your post.” That sounded good. He didn’t know anything about the army.
“He might be dead for all we know.” Captain Greenwood set the inkwell on the desk and pushed it across the wood. “Your parents ran off with that Clark. Who knows where they are now?”
Jeremiah clenched his jaw. “Where’s Zachariah? Amethyst?”
“Your whole family ran off. That’s how loyal they are to you and the country.”
“The ranch hands? The servants?”
“Dead or run off, too. Most of ‘em tried to fight back. That counts as enemy warfare.” Captain Greenwood peeled his lips off his teeth. “You’re the heir, boy. You should be glad Clark mucked things up.”
Jeremiah would have to grab Alyssa and let her know what was happening. The army might’ve wired the house for information, so he would have to write to her about it. They could burn the letters. “If this is all mine, then get out.”
Captain Greenwood laughed. “You can’t order the army out. You’d be a traitor yourself, then. Besides,” he grinned, “Senator Horan is proposing a new law just yesterday. Funny how he decided to do that after all this happened with Clark. See, boy, now it states that any heir of a large estate—like you, precisely—must be married in order to inherit. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?”
Jeremiah could slam the man’s face into the floor and rub it until his eyes gouged out. He could shake him until his teeth rattled. Senator Horan and Captain Greenwood were linked at the hip.
“Haven’t you heard?” Alyssa asked from the doorway. “Jeremiah and I are set to wed this weekend.”
“I don’t mind marrying in the court house.” Alyssa clutched the cup of tea, the only porcelain cup left whole in the ranch house. Her knuckles whitened, the only sign the army frazzled her.
Jeremiah wiped his hand over his face. “Al… you deserve better than this.” Did she love him or did she think she did her duty? When he’d asked, she’d sworn she’d grown to love him. What would his mother do in Alyssa’s shoes?
He scowled. Georgette Treasure would do what would benefit the grand scheme, even if it put her feelings at risk.
“Alyssa, your parents would hate us Treasures. We’re nothing now. Traitors. They won’t see me as suitable.”
She smiled, tight-lipped, as tight as her hand gripped the cup. His mother had painted the roses around the white rim herself. “My father knows your father. He knows the type of people you are and how corrosive the government can be at times. He had a mine confiscated because it was too close to one Senator Horan owned. It had been my father’s only mine.”
Senator Horan again. Jeremiah turned from Alyssa so she wouldn’t have to see his face wrinkle further in disgust. His gaze roamed his mother’s sitting room, where he’d instituted Alyssa. It was the only room with a thick lock on the inside, rather than a keyhole that could be opened from either side. His father had insisted on that for Georgette so that, in case of an emergency, she could lock herself in for safety.
Captain Greenwood and his remaining men dwelled downstairs. Their stomps and laughter filtered through the floorboards. They’d ransacked the poor room. Once, it had felt like a paradise. As a child, he’d gotten to sit on the velveteen footstool while his mother fastened jewels in her ears and around her neck, hearing her recite her favorite poetry as she readied her appearance.
Not that Jeremiah favored poetry—a mess of nonsense words didn’t make peaches ripen—but the way she said the stanzas created magic in the air.
“At least let me give you a proper enough wedding,” he mumbled. “We’ll invite your parents. We’ll have it here. A garden wedding.” Even though he’d never imagined himself married, other than to do it as a way to carry on the Treasure legacy or to have the kind of divine relationship his parents shared, he’d always pictured a wedding in his mother’s flower garden.
“We need to hurry. It would take too long for my family to arrive. They can come after, to help us celebrate.�
�� Alyssa sipped her tea. Since when had the dark circles developed beneath her eyes? “Call for the town magistrate. We can do it tonight in any area of the ranch you want.”
“You’ve never pictured what kind of wedding you’d want?” Amethyst had babbled about that a time or two, having it in one of those eastern castles or one of those seaside resorts where people strode around in disgusting swim suits.
“We have time for that. Our whole lives. Who says your dream wedding has to be when you get married?” She set her cup on its saucer, now sporting a chip in the corner. “Tonight, your inheritance will be legal in every sense of the law.”
Everything of his father’s would be his—until he could figure out how to bring his family back. His parents could take care of them. They would’ve gone into the shed cellar and made their way elsewhere. Clark, blast him, should know how to survive in the wilderness.
It was up to Jeremiah to protect the Treasure assets.
He stared out the window, the lace curtains torn off and crumpled on the floor. A cloud cast the shed in shadow. He hadn’t dared go out yet to see if his father had left him a message. Captain Greenwood would be watching him to see if he led them to any clues.
The cows in the fields wandered aimlessly. “Blast it all! No one’s been working the farm since the army drove everyone off.” The animals would need tending, the crops looked to. At least the trains and the mines had foremen, but the ranch had been abandoned.
“You can get workers from town.” Alyssa refilled her cup from the teapot that matched the smashed blue porcelain set. “They’ll be loyal to you and give the army less power. Perhaps you can pick out house servants for me. We’ll put things back in order for when everyone returns.”
If not for her, he would’ve pummeled as many army men as he could reach. Without her, he would feel totally alone, and he hadn’t been alone since… ever. “I love you.”
The army had ruined Georgette’s flowers and pulled up most of the vegetables to eat. Jeremiah picked the gazebo, grapes still hanging off the white wood, for the wedding. It would give Alyssa more of a backdrop.
He stood with her, the vines creating a green and brown shelter, and clasped her hands. She wore his mother’s white lace gloves, since she’d only brought a leather traveling pair, and the matching scarf around her neck, fastened with one of Georgette’s pink cameos. Alyssa wore her own dress, in black and white stripes, but Georgette’s wide brimmed velvet hat with the train set off her crimson curls.
Sweat beaded down Jeremiah’s back beneath his best suit. Most of his clothes had been rummaged through and stolen, but the suit coat and slacks had been spared. He wore his father’s shirt and cravat, Zachariah’s top hat, and a pair of boots Georgette had purchased for Clark.
The town magistrate flipped through his leather-bound book and glanced over his shoulder at the army sprawled across the back porch, belching and laughing as they chugged moonshine and local beer. He turned back to Jeremiah with raised eyebrows.
Jeremiah had slipped him a note back in town regarding what had happened at the ranch.
“Get this going.” Captain Greenwood staggered across the lawn, kicking a head off one of Georgette’s remaining yellow tulips. “We’ll party tonight, right, boy?” He had to make it rude, since he couldn’t put it off.
“Please, continue.” Alyssa inclined her head toward the magistrate with her smile that made Jeremiah’s stomach clench.
The town magistrate cleared his throat. “You want the short version?”
Jeremiah tensed. “Short as you can make it.”
“We’ll do it long,” the captain guffawed. “Then we’ll watch this pretty pair share their pretty kiss.”
How could Mable stand to live with the man? If Jeremiah had been in her place, he would’ve fled at the first chance, and taken the poor Bromi with him.
“Short it is.” The magistrate flipped through the book toward the end. “In the eyes of our late king and the figure of our queen, the country welcomes a new couple. Your lives will be joined forever more. May the president recognize this proper union. Jeremiah Garth Treasure, do you accept this woman as your legal wife?”
No mention of love, no exchange of heartfelt vows, as would’ve been in the longer ceremony. “I do.”
“Alyssa Jane, do you accept Jeremiah as your legal husband?”
“I do.” She squeezed his hand.
“By law, I present Jeremiah and Alyssa Treasure.” Good man, he’d inserted the legal terms as Jeremiah had requested.
Jeremiah turned Alyssa by the shoulders and lowered his lips to hers. The twilight framed her face, making the freckles across her nose glow.
“What a pathetic ceremony,” Greenwood roared. “Short and ugly. That the best you folks can do out here on the prairie?”
“Thank you, sir.” Jeremiah shook the magistrate’s hand. “If you could, I would like a request put out across the town. Alyssa will need house servants and I’ll need fresh farm hands. It looks like the army can’t run a ranch worth their lives.”
Greenwood’s eyes bulged. “There won’t be any new folks allowed on here.”
The magistrate lifted his hand. “The request doesn’t get in the way of the army policy of occupying private land. If you want, Captain, I can show you the documents and get the town lawyer to explain it in more detail.”
Greenwood sputtered before clamping his lips shut.
“This is my ranch now,” Jeremiah said. “I’ll run it as I see fit. It’s too big for me to run, and unless you and your men want to pick up a shovel to muck out a stall, then I’ll be hiring some new hands.”
“Mr. Treasure.” The magistrate shook with him again. “Expect a whole line of workers sometime tomorrow. I’ll drop them off personally.”
lark covered his face with his hands and sighed. The rock he sat upon dug into his bottom. Why couldn’t it be soft, like the stream that gurgled in front of him?
Amethyst leaned her forehead against the back of his head. “I think it’s a smashing idea.”
“You would,” he muttered into his palms. Another girl might’ve fainted at the prospect. Then again, that was why he loved her. She wasn’t just another girl in Hedlund. She was… Amethyst.
“Senator Horan is a very bad man. Why shouldn’t he be eliminated?”
“You can hide your identity.” Eric floated over the stream. “No one needs to know Clark Treasure or Clark Grisham did it. You’ll have me at your side, Clark. I’ll tell you which rooms to avoid, where the guards are waiting.”
Clark parted his fingers to stare at his father through them. “Have you done this before?”
“What did he say?” Amethyst clenched Clark’s shoulders.
Eric shook his head. “Senator Horan ordered my murder. You really think I want to see him live when I don’t get to hold my grandchildren?”
“He wants us to have grandkids,” Clark said.
Eric sighed in his breathless way. “The west isn’t a proper place. There are villains and heroes. Sometimes the heroes have to eliminate the villains.”
“Who decides who the hero is?” Clark asked. “I’ve only killed when I’ve had to.”
“You have to now,” Eric whispered. “For your family. Amethyst. The Treasures.”
“Clark?” Amethyst whispered.
He repeated what Eric had said. “Where do I stop? After Horan, do I take out Greenwood too? The whole army?”
She nodded. “If you have to.”
Amethyst had no idea how the world worked. He’d seen men who started killing and couldn’t stop until the deaths had caught up with them. A sloppy shot or a vengeful enemy put a bullet through them.
“Clark? Am?” Branches crunched, drawing closer. Clark stood and Amethyst gripped his arm.
“Father, we’re here,” she called. “Beside the river.”
Clark winced. She would need to learn that while on the run, yelling in the middle of the woods, let alone responding to their given names, could mean
evil.
Garth pushed through the pine trees. Clark held his breath as he waited to hear what Garth wanted. Would it be to question why Clark and Amethyst had shared a bed? Clark had assumed no one noticed anything besides a brother comforting a younger sister, and in the anxiety of the moment, perhaps no one had given it a thought.
Garth coughed. “We need to stay together. We’re a family, a team.”
“Hi, Garth,” Eric whispered. Clark’s heartbeat sped.
Amethyst shrugged off her father’s words. “I was telling Clark what a great idea it would be to terminate Senator Horan.”
Garth narrowed his eyes. “That’s a horrible idea. Treasures don’t kill needlessly.”
Neither did a Grisham. Clark glanced at Eric. His father wanted to protect him, and he saw that as the way. Should Clark do it, just to seek revenge for Eric’s death? Did two deaths make it right?
“Georgette and I know what we’ll do,” Garth said. “I’ve met with the president in the past and once he stayed at the ranch when he visited Hedlund. We’ll explain the situation to him.”
Clark tensed. “He won’t care. The army—the government—wants us.”
“The president knows I’m an honest man who runs an honorable empire. He will listen to me. We’ll get back our holdings and he’ll give you a pardon.”
“Why would he do that?” Could Garth Treasure really be that influential?
“Tell him it’s a bad idea,” Eric hissed.
“Father, that’s wonderful!” Amethyst hugged him around the neck, giggling.
“You’ll tell him about the tonic? My… abilities?” Clark scratched his cheek. “That’s what the government wants.”
“Garth is too honest,” Eric exclaimed. “It won’t work. These men don’t follow rules. I know, Clark. I worked with them. I made them the tools they wanted. Garth worked to better the land and I… I helped them take it over.”
“Of course we’ll tell them.” Garth kissed his daughter’s head. “Secrets will hinder us. We need to be open. They need to trust us.”
Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) Page 9