The Jewel: The Malloy Family, Book 11 Read online

  He cleared his throat a few times. When he managed to find his voice, it was hoarse. “I, ah, think I can accept being adopted by you.”

  Her green gaze flicked to his. “I miss my parents, but I know if they hadn’t died, I would never have met you. Does that make me a terrible person?”

  “How can I reply to that without making myself into a jackass or a martyr?”

  “It wasn’t a fair question, but I had to voice it aloud. I don’t want to be selfish.”

  He snorted. “I don’t know a person who could possibly be more unselfish than you.” She had sacrificed the skin off her hands, the sweat off her brow and nearly her life for those she loved. Isabelle was someone he could aspire to be. If she loved him, he would consider himself to be the luckiest man alive.

  “Totally untrue.” She sighed. “Sometimes I want to run away and go back to New York, forget everything that’s happened and live the life I used to have.”

  “That’s not selfish, darlin’, it’s being human.” He pulled her close again. This time it was his turn to be selfish. She felt so damn good against him.

  “Isn’t that sweet?” Charlie’s voice was sharper than the axe. “How did I know you would take him for yourself?”

  Isabelle jerked back, her mouth open in surprise. It wasn’t his place to discipline the child, but he couldn’t stand by while she maligned her sister.

  “I am no one’s property, little one. No one has taken me nor has anyone lost me.” He put his arm around Isabelle’s shoulder.

  “Hmph. I saw you first, but she always had the boys because she’s so fucking beautiful. I’m plain, borderline ugly, with hair from the wrong end of a broomstick.” Charlie flapped her hand, her expression pale and sad. “I shouldn’t expect anything, but damn, it hurts to know I’ll never be anyone’s special girl.”

  She turned and ran back toward the wagon. Isabelle didn’t hesitate. She darted after her sister, skirts flying. Mason didn’t feel abandoned, much to his surprise. What he just shared with Isabelle was stronger than a temper tantrum by her foul-mouthed sister. Charlie was confused and grieving, same as her older sister. They loved deeply and he respected that.

  Hell, he was no judge of how to love since he was so damn new to it. He could appreciate who to love. Very much so.

  Isabelle caught up to Charlie at the edge of the wagon. It seemed she wanted to be caught because she hadn’t run very fast.

  Instead of berating her younger sister, Isabelle embraced her stiff form. “I’ve missed you. How did you escape from Camille?” She hugged harder until Charlie finally returned the embrace.

  “I told Mary I needed to piss and wouldn’t do it front of her. Camille is off in the settlement somewhere.” Charlie’s gaze was too serious for a fifteen-year-old.

  “She won’t let us near you. We’re sleeping on the ground under the wagon, but this time without blankets.” Isabelle leaned back and smiled sadly at her sister. “It’s much colder than it was too.”

  “Camille doesn’t tell me anything. She had to tie me to the wagon yesterday because I wouldn’t stay put.” Charlie rubbed her wrists and Isabelle noted the chafed skin.

  “Damn her.”

  “I think that ship already sailed, Iz. Camille Becker is the devil’s mistress.” Charlie shook her head. “We’ve got to get away from her. I don’t care about the wagon or anything in it. I only care about our family. That doesn’t include him.”

  Isabelle knew she danced on thin ice. All three of them needed to escape. She wouldn’t leave Mason behind, not for anyone or anything. He was the missing half of her soul, one she hadn’t known she’d been missing until she found him lying on the side of the trail in the dirt.

  “None of us will stay. If we leave one behind, that person will bear the brunt of Camille’s anger. I can’t let that happen and neither can you.” Isabelle looked around and then leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We can’t simply walk away or they’ll catch us. What we need is a plan to find someone who will take us east and cripple this wagon so the Beckers can’t follow or take it away from them.”

  Charlie’s chin came up while a mulish look took over her expression. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like it either, but we don’t have a choice. You didn’t see how she forced me to sing, Charlie, but I can tell you I don’t ever want to perform again.” Isabelle blinked away the memories of the lascivious looks centered on her. “Her weakness is her greed, so that’s what we need to use against her.”

  Charlie’s expression relaxed a smidge. “That sounds like a better idea. What should I do?”

  “Listen to everything she says and remember every word of it. She will make a mistake and when she does, we will take advantage of it.” Isabelle didn’t know the specifics, but between the three of them, she was sure they could outsmart the Beckers.

  A noise behind them made Isabelle jump. She peered into the wagon and a movement in the shadows confirmed her suspicion. Someone had heard them.

  “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Mary appeared from the left, her normally dull eyes alight with an unnamed emotion. Isabelle contemplated what to say to convince the other woman to forget what she overheard.

  “Take me with you.”

  Apparently she didn’t need to convince Mary. “Pardon me?” Isabelle knew that four people would be much harder to conceal but four people were smarter than three.

  “I can’t stay here any longer.” Mary’s voice trembled and a light of desperation made her eyes blaze. “She’s a monster.”

  Isabelle wondered just what Camille did to Mary, or rather what she forced Mary to do for money. The possibilities made Isabelle more than grateful she had a singing voice. Without the means to escape from or defeat Camille, the women were at her mercy. With Gunther and Karl to enforce her will, Camille was invincible.

  Or at least she thought she was.

  Charlie tugged on Isabelle’s arm. “We can’t leave her here.”

  Isabelle stared into her sister’s brown eyes and a horrific thought crept forward. What if Camille wanted to force Charlie to do awful things? How would Isabelle stop her? The thought turned her stomach.

  “Then we all go together. Now get back in the wagon before they catch us.” Isabelle spotted Catherine and Karl walking toward the wagon. The angle blocked their view, but only for a few more moments. “Hurry.”

  Charlie hugged her hard and then scrambled up into the wagon. Isabelle turned and ran back to where she’d left Mason. They had a glimmer of a plan, and with Mary’s help and hopefully Gunther’s cooperation, it just might work.

  Chapter Ten

  Isabelle was led to the stage again that night after supper, after the men in the settlement had imbibed their fair share of whiskey. Her stomach was empty and nauseated, but she walked with her shoulders back and head held high. Camille’s talons held on to her upper arm and steered her forward.

  “You sing like a bird again and your sister stays healthy. Do you understand me?” Camille spoke in a calm monotone.

  “I understand more than you think. I’m educated, not to mention intelligent. More than I can say for you.” She couldn’t stop the words that leaped from her mouth.

  “Watch yourself, Mrs. Bennett. I can make money just as easily with your sister—”

  Isabelle jerked her arm back, red rage coursing through her. “You do anything to hurt my sister, and I swear by all that’s holy, I will kill you.”

  Camille smiled. “I like this side of you, Isabelle. Who knew what was lurking beneath that beautiful face?”

  “Fuck you, Camille.” Isabelle stalked off, obscenely pleased to have used her storehouse of curses from Charlie. To her consternation, Camille laughed and caught up to her.

  The men had already gathered around the stage. They cheered and clapped when they caught sight of Isabelle cl
imbing up the rickety steps. Her palms sweated as though she had dunked her hands in a bucket of water. She could get through this again. Perhaps one more day or two. The truth was, she didn’t know how many days were ahead, but she did know she would survive.

  As she grew up, her parents and her older sisters had protected her from most bad things in the world. The trip west had awakened a side of her she hadn’t known existed. Now, after six months, she considered herself a different person. The inner strength had changed her, as had all the experiences she’d had. The seizing of their wagon and subsequent kidnapping had pushed that new person into the light.

  Isabelle might never have known what she was truly capable of if she hadn’t come west. Did that mean she should regret all the harsh times she had endured? Or be grateful she was still alive and ready to fight to stay that way?

  She decided to pick grateful. And she also decided she would not give up. Camille had no idea what she had awakened and let loose on the world.

  The same man was there with his stringed instrument. This time he sat on the stage on a stool, his greasy, whiskered face cleaned up. He had shaved, washed and secured his long hair in a queue at the back of his head. His eyes, however, were still as disturbing as they had been the night before. Her skin crawled at the desperate hunger in his gaze. She would do well to steer clear of this man, no matter if he was a convenient musician.

  Isabelle didn’t believe in coincidences. She surmised Camille had known this man at some point. Otherwise he would not have jumped in to play with her without upfront payment. No, he was not to be trusted an inch. She made a wide berth around him and stood in the center of the stage.

  She now knew he played a banjo. It had a different sound than a guitar or any other stringed instrument she’d ever heard. His fingers, the nails still black with muck, plucked at the strings.

  “What’ll it be tonight, lovely Isabelle?”

  She stared at the use of her first name. At no time had Camille used it nor had she spoken a word to him. It reinforced the suspicion he knew Camille.

  Without answering him, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After she let it out slowly, she found herself calming, even in the face of the crowd of men yelling at her to start singing. Mason stood by the edge of the stage while Gunther stood on the other side. They provided her the security she needed, although butterflies still danced in her belly. Isabelle sang.

  Camille, Mary and Catherine headed out to collect the tariff for listening to the music. The sound of grumbling and coins clinking echoed through the evening. Isabelle loved to sing. It was the true pleasure she always enjoyed. She would not allow Camille to take that from her.

  In less than ten minutes, Camille returned to the stage and held up her hands to quiet the crowd.

  “Gentlemen! Thank you for coming out for tonight’s encore of the beautiful Mrs. Bennett’s angelic voice. Songs are two bits each. You pay for three.” Camille gestured to Isabelle. “If you want more than that, you pay.”

  Isabelle didn’t want to think about people paying to hear her sing. It cheapened what she considered a God-given gift. To see another day, she would forget all about why she was there and concentrate on what she could do.

  Sing.

  She opened her mouth and started singing “There’s Nothing True But Heaven”. In a few notes, the banjo’s twanging cut through the air. She let the music wrap around her, pull her from the stench of unwashed bodies and the force of their leers. In her mind, she was back in New York, at the park, singing to the canopy of trees and curious birds. She could almost feel the clean breeze on her cheeks.

  As she sang, the noise level died down, for which she was grateful. She could continue with her fantasy of being somewhere except for where she was, which was nowhere. Although she had her eyes closed, she felt Mason’s gaze on her. The connection had strengthened between them. She was grateful he was there to support and protect her.

  When the last note died away, a moment of silence followed broken only by the thump of her heart. She pulled in a breath and opened her eyes. Thunderous applause broke the stillness in the air, followed by catcalls, whistles and howls. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, unsure of whether she should bow, curtsy or do nothing.

  Although she knew her voice was special, she’d not sung in front of anyone except her family. Her cheeks heated at being the center of attention. All her life, people had paid attention to her because of her outer shell. She didn’t kid herself into believing that these men were music aficionados. The truth was, she could have sung like a frog in a bucket and they would have clapped. Most of them couldn’t take their eyes from her breasts.

  She resisted the urge to cross her arms and rub away their stares from her skin. Instead she lost herself in another song, then another. It became a blur of noise and music. Isabelle escaped as quickly as she could after Camille dismissed her.

  Mason and Gunther escorted her, one on either side. She gave Mason a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”

  “I will always be at your side, as long as you’ll have me.” He squeezed her elbow.

  Gunther grunted, his preferred method of communication, but he stayed close. He was a lumbering giant, but he had been nothing but respectful to her. Mason had been right about him. She swallowed her distaste for manipulating someone and forced herself to speak.

  “Thank you as well, Gunther. I, uh, appreciate your help.” She couldn’t look him in the eye so she smiled at his ear. “You are the best of the Beckers.” That at least wasn’t a lie.

  The big man didn’t respond, but she saw his shoulders relax.

  “Perhaps you can tell me your favorite songs so I can sing them, um, next time there’s a show.” Of course, she hoped there wasn’t another show. Ever.

  “‘Meet Me By Moonlight’.”

  Isabelle was so shocked to hear Gunther speak, she stumbled. Mason steadied her.

  “Is that your favorite song?”

  A grunt. “Mam sang it.”

  “I know the tune. I’d be happy to sing it for you.” She hummed the melody to prove to him she knew the ballad. Isabelle smiled when Gunther nodded. She had succeeded in pulling the man into her circle of admirers. It was a disgraceful and left a bad taste in her mouth.

  She wasn’t proud of herself, but she would do what she had to.

  “Goddammit, Gunther, where the fuck is Mary?” Karl’s voice cut through the night.

  The big man started and scowled ahead of him. The other man stood with his fists by his side, his face bright with rage.

  “You were supposed to watch her, not this bitch. I got the girl so the songbird and her fancy man will do what we want.” Karl pointed an accusing finger at Gunther. “You were supposed to keep your eye on Mary, not let your cock do the thinking.”

  Dread coiled in her belly. Mary had agreed to work with them to leave the Beckers, not to run away on her own. Had she taken an opportunity and escaped? She wouldn’t get far. A woman on her own in the untamed west was in mortal danger. She had taken her life in her hands if she had left the settlement.

  “Get back to the wagon with them while I go look for Mary. Mama will cut your balls off if Mary is gone.” Spittle flew from Karl’s mouth, gathering at the corners of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a rabid dog. He looked angry enough to kill and twisted enough to enjoy it.

  Isabelle stood still beside Mason as the two Becker man stared each other down. It was inevitable that Karl would win, and sure enough, Gunther lowered his head. Like a leader of a pack of dogs, Karl puffed out his chest and snarled.

  “Now I get to clean up your mess. Go with them to the wagon and wait. When Mama comes, you ’fess up like a man. Or at least pretend to be one for a few minutes.” Karl spared Isabelle and Mason a withering glance before he headed out into the blackness of the night.

  Gunther grunted at them and shooed
them forward like a sheepdog herding his chattel.

  Isabelle’s heart pounded and her mouth went dry. What had Mary done? There didn’t appear to be a depth that Karl wasn’t afraid to dive. He would hurt her, that much was certain. How much was a guess.

  “She did this, not you.” Mason’s whisper made her start. “Don’t start down that road of blaming yourself, darlin’. She was unhappy before we were pulled into this mad party.”

  He was right, of course, and Isabelle told herself to listen to him. A tiny voice deep inside piped up to remind her that Mary was a victim, same as the rest of them. It was apparent Mary took advantage of the rapt crowd and slipped away. She might have gone for some privacy, but given the desperation Isabelle saw in her eyes, she feared the worst.

  When they returned to the wagon, Gunther threw a few logs on the fire and poked at the embers until a merry blaze ensued. He grunted at them and they sat in their customary spot. No matter the heat from the fire, Isabelle was chilled to her bones. She knew Karl was capable of violence and had fortunately not been on the receiving end of it. Given the madness in his eyes, however, Isabelle would be called upon for her meager nursing skills.

  Camille stomped into the circle of light with a flourish, her skirt swirled as she came to a stop. Her cheeks flushed and her chest heaved with each breath. She must have run through the settlement to arrive at her own little kingdom. Catherine arrived moments later, weighed down by the basket full of money she carried, the clinking of hundreds of coins loud in the stillness.

  “What happened, Gunther?” Her voice was silky, low and colder than the ice storm they’d survived. It was questionable if they would all survive Camille’s fury.

  The big man shook his head, his cheeks flushed. Camille circled him, looking like a wolf that had found a juicy prey. She ran a finger across his back and he shuddered at her touch. Isabelle clamped her mouth shut to avoid telling the older woman exactly what she thought of her methods.