Malachite (The Jewels of Texas Historical Romance Series Book 5) by Ruth Ryan Langan Page B

new bonnet in time for Sunday’s service.”
    “I’ll walk with you.” Jade got up slowly, clutching the table for support.
    Millie walked them to the door, then returned to the dining room, where Byron Conner was still sitting at the table. He looked up when she entered.
    “I can’t believe you’d let your daughters go off to school with a stranger.”
    Millie began collecting the empty bowls and setting them on a serving tray. “How did you know Malachite drove the girls?”
    “From the window of my office I saw them leave in your wagon. How could you do that?”
    “Malachite isn’t a stranger.” Patiently Millie stacked the bowls, then added spoons, glasses, cups. “The Jewel family has been here in Texas longer than the town of Hanging Tree.”
    “But Malachite’s only been here for days. And already you’re treating him like one of the family.”
    “Byron...”
    He held up a hand. “I’m only warning you for your own good, Millie. You’re far too trusting. Letting him into your home is bad enough. But trusting him with your children...” He shook his head for emphasis. “The fool has stated his intention of capturing Diablo. And we all know what that means. Those little girls are far too precious to trust to any passing trail bum with a curse over his head.”
    “Oh, Byron. I just don’t have time for...”
    “Mama,” came April’s plaintive voice.
    Millie set down the tray and started out of the room.
    Behind her Byron gave a hiss of annoyance. “And I foolishly thought I’d have some time alone with you.” To her retreating back he called, “I’ll let myself out.”
    Millie made no reply. She was already halfway up the stairs.
    * * *
    Millie glanced out the window at the gathering shadows. The sun had long ago slipped behind Widow’s Peak, casting lavender ribbons across the sky. The air had grown colder, sharper, with a bitter wind blowing in from the north.
    Drawing her shawl around her, she stepped out the back door and crossed to the woodpile. It had begun to drizzle. A cold, bitter rain that chilled clear to the bone. She shivered, thinking about her children out on such a night.
    Minutes later, her arms straining under the pile of logs, she scanned the horizon for any sign of the wagon.
    Malachite and the girls should have been home hours ago. Where were they? What had gone wrong?
    Oh, why had Byron said those awful things? Now that he had planted the idea in her mind she was being tormented with images of all manner of terrible things. Malachite, dark and dangerous, fighting to the death with Diablo, equally dark and dangerous. As the images grew, Malachite and Diablo became one wild creature, rising up, knife in hand, the hand becoming powerful, deadly hooves that were crushing her helpless daughters.
    Ridiculous. She was ashamed of herself for entertaining such thoughts. She shook her head in disgust and forced herself to keep busy. There were fires to tend, a table to set, food to cook.
    “Mama.”
    She had come to dread that sound. It seemed like a hundred times today she’d been summoned up the stairs for water, a cool cloth, a sip of broth. And as the day progressed and April’s fever had abated, she had become even more demanding.
    “What is it, honey?” she asked as she stepped into the bedroom.
    “It’s so dark in here. I can’t see.”
    “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, April.” Dutifully Millie held a match to the wick of the lantern. Soon the bedroom was bathed in light.
    “Where are May and June?” the little girl asked, as she had a dozen times.
    “I don’t know. They’re late.” Millie turned away to hide the fear she knew would be in her eyes.
    “But why?”
    “It’s Malachite’s first day at the Jewel ranch. He probably had more chores than he’d anticipated.” She strove for a lightness she didn’t feel. “Can I bring you up some supper?”
    The little girl shook her head. “I’m not very hungry.”
    “All right. I’ll be back soon.”