The Jewel: The Malloy Family, Book 11 Read online

  “What are you doing to him?” Charlie jumped down from the wagon, frowning. She didn’t have the same inclination to keep her thoughts to herself. “He didn’t do a damn thing but everything you told him to.”

  “Shut up, child.” Camille didn’t take her gaze from the cowering giant. “Gunther, I’m waiting.”

  “I did what you said.” His words were no more than a mumble.

  “No, you didn’t. I told you to watch both the songbird and Mary. You were told to walk Mary back to the wagon. I don’t see her, do you?” Camille poked his chest with one finger. “You failed.”

  Gunther gasped. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t.”

  His terror was unmistakable. She regretted every unkind thought she’d directed at Gunther. He did what he was told. Now she and Mason had manipulated him into disobeying his mother. It was not done out of disregard for his well-being but out of regard for their own.

  “You failed.” Camille slid a sidelong glance at Isabelle. “I ought to punish you.” She slapped him hard enough to make his head jerk sideways. When she did it a second time, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  “Leave him alone!” Charlie jumped from the wagon and threw a punch at Camille. Gunther snatched the girl in midair and held her against his chest. She thrashed in his hold, her heels digging into his knees.

  Isabelle reached for her sister. “Let her go!” No matter how much she yanked and pulled, Gunther’s fingers were as strong as steel locks. Mason joined her, pulling at the other side to free Charlie. Gunther didn’t speak, his gaze locked on his mother. Isabelle scratched and pulled, her terror mingled with fury.

  “Enough!” Camille threw her hands up. “Some of these idiot settlers will hear the ruckus and come to investigate. Gunther, put her down.”

  The big man dropped Charlie like an unwanted sack of flour. Mason caught her before she hit the ground and pulled both of them against him. She had no time to thank him.

  Karl walked into the circle of light thrown by the fire, his shirt stained dark, his hands covered in the same dark stains. A knife glinted in his right hand. Horror drenched Isabelle at the realization what she smelled and saw was blood. Catherine gasped and her face blanched.

  “What did you do, Karl?”

  “I took care of the problem he caused.” He pointed at Gunther with a jerk of his hand. “The idiot son of yours.” Isabelle couldn’t help but wonder how all the Beckers were related.

  “He might not be smart, but he is my son.” Camille frowned at him. “We had a sweet play here. More money than we’ve seen in a dog’s age.”

  “She ran. You told me what to do if they ran.” Karl wiped his hands on his trousers. His expression was almost gleeful, flush with the thrill of a kill.

  “Where was she?”

  “Lifting her skirts for some jackass with a wagon. About a mile north.” Karl spat at the ground as he wiped the knife on his trousers. The tang of blood didn’t bother Isabelle, but to know it was spilled in a murderous frenzy made her sick to her stomach.

  Camille’s gaze narrowed. “Did you kill the man too?”

  Karl shrugged. “A’course I did.”

  “Fool.” Camille spat the word at him. “Folks know she was your wife’s sister. Who do you think they’ll look for? Thanks to you, we have to get off the golden teat. Get moving. We need to leave.”

  Isabelle, Charlie and Mason stood there in shock and fright while the Beckers scrambled around, dousing the fire, securing the money in a lockbox and throwing everything into the back of the wagon.

  No one had to tell them what happened to Mary. Karl was a monster. The combination of his madness and Camille’s treachery was deadly. For the first time since the Beckers had seized the Chastain wagon, Isabelle was afraid for her life.

  Mason must have sensed something was wrong because his arms tightened. She burrowed into his warmth and prayed they would have the strength to survive the living nightmare their lives had become.

  Chaos reigned as they readied for travel, leaving behind blood and ashes. Camille wanted to leave the area as soon as possible, so she let Charlie to walk to lighten the load on the wagon. They traveled through the night, a dangerous business when the ground was uneven and pitted with wagon ruts. Mason, Isabelle and Charlie walked with their hands linked. It became a necessity within five minutes of the mad dash to leave the settlement. Isabelle stumbled first, landing on her knees with a bone-jarring thump. The rocks and rough terrain scraped her skin and she couldn’t stop the cry of pain that exploded from her mouth.

  Camille snarled. “I will kill the next person who makes a sound.”

  Mason took Isabelle’s hand and she took Charlie’s. From then on, they supported each other through the miserable journey. The stench of Mary’s blood still filled Isabelle’s nostrils. She couldn’t forget the look of pleasure in Karl’s expression when he confessed to killing her. He was a monster, the son of another monster. Gunther seemed to be the only one with any redeeming qualities, but he was under Camille’s control.

  Their task to defeat the Beckers had grown more difficult because of Mary’s rash actions. Isabelle couldn’t blame the woman for their situation. Mary had suffered the ultimate price and Isabelle wished Mary had waited until they were all ready to run.

  The night seemed endless. The moon and stars kept them company as their sweaty palms slid against each other. It was one of the most dismal experiences of her life, and the last six months had been one tragedy after another.

  Her feet were sore and slippery. She was certain she’d suffered blisters that had long since burst. Her ankles had also swollen so much her boots would be a nightmare to remove. Yet they still walked, an endless parade from which there was no escape.

  “I hate her.” Charlie kept her voice low, but it was packed with fierceness.

  “She’s not my favorite person either, little one.” Mason squeezed both their hands. “If there’s anything I learned from you Chastain sisters, it’s to keep on going no matter what hinders your progress, even tiny curmudgeons with an extensive vocabulary of curse words.”

  Isabelle smiled into the darkness. Mason had a unique way of expressing himself, that was for certain. “She collects them.”

  “Like butterflies?” Charlie ventured.

  Isabelle could almost hear his answering smile. “Yes, like butterflies. Only these are better. They never die, they never fade, and they are always with you.” Mason sounded quite matter-of-fact about it.

  “That’s true.” Charlie was equally as serious. “I can goddamn do with them as I please.”

  “Exactly.”

  Isabelle found it hard to believe she would have found something that made her feel light of heart in such a dark day. Yet Mason brought that light for all three of them.

  She leaned close, her body tingling with fear, knowing this was the right path to take. She put her lips up near his ear. After taking a deep breath, she whispered, “I love you.”

  His hand tightened around hers with a jerk. It was though she had jumped off a cliff, arms spread wide, and dove into an unknown future. Her pulse fluttered and she wondered if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life. Or the biggest leap.

  They walked in silence. With each step, Isabelle’s anxiety grew larger, spreading outward from her belly. She was nauseated and sweating. And she felt more foolish than she thought possible.

  Hours passed while she held hands with the man who held her heart yet spoke not a word of his feelings for her. The next time she stumbled, her hand slid from his, clammy and loose. She held out her arms to break her fall as the ground rushed up toward her, dark and dangerous.

  A steel band closed around her middle, stopping her in midair. The breath gushed out of her lungs and she gasped as stars danced behind her eyes. She was set on her feet and a big hand landed hard between her shoulder blades. She sucked
in a much-needed breath while she recovered from the vigorous backslapping.

  “Are you all right, Belle?” Mason took her arm.

  She shook her head to clear it. “I think so.”

  “I apologize if I hurt you. I didn’t think about what to do, I simply grabbed you. I was afraid I had caused you undue harm with manhandling you.” Concern laced his tone. “I’m afraid my brain is…befuddled.”

  “What does befuddled mean?” Charlie spoke from somewhere behind them. The wagon was moving forward without them.

  “Confused, extremely confused, but we need to keep walking. The last thing we need is for the men from the settlement to come looking for a murderer and find us wandering around in the dark alone.” Isabelle’s stomach trembled along with the rest of her, but she shook off Mason’s hand and found her feet moving forward. She wasn’t prepared to hear another word from Mason. He had his chance to reply to her confession.

  Running feet sounded behind her. “Wait for me, Iz!” Charlie ran up beside her and grabbed her hand. “What the hell are you mad at?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Isabelle gritted her teeth to stop the confession from popping out. Her sister was too young to understand what had happened or why Isabelle’s heart was breaking.

  “Shit, if you think I believe that, you’re crazy.” Charlie kicked at something that tumbled on ahead of them into the night.

  “I’m done discussing it.” Her throat had tightened up again and her stomach hurt from Mason’s rescue. That on top of all her other physical ailments was more than enough to bring tears to her eyes. And she would not cry.

  “Isabelle, please.” Mason tried to take her hand, but she snatched it away again.

  “I do not wish to discuss this with you. If you don’t want to be left behind, I suggest you keep walking.” Isabelle was surprised how much she sounded like her mother. The journey west had matured all of them. As much as Isabelle wanted to be a young girl without a care in the world, she was no longer that person.

  “Isabelle Chastain, you will listen to me.” Mason took her elbow and swung her around. The partial moon illuminated his face while his eyes glimmered. “I have been trying for the last hour to figure out how to tell you what’s in my soul. When you told me you loved me, I thought I was dreaming. How in the world can a woman like you love me?”

  Isabelle knew Charlie listened, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She was mesmerized by Mason’s gaze, and more so by his words. Her heart hammered hard enough to make her ribs crack.

  “I’ve spent my life amongst people who were selfish, rich and shallow. I didn’t know what love was and I still don’t. What I do know is I can’t imagine taking another breath without you in my life. Please don’t give up on me.” His voice was as shaky as her hands.

  Isabelle cleared her throat twice before she could force words out. “I won’t give up on you.”

  “Thank God.”

  He pulled her into his arms and their hearts thumped against each other, soon finding a matching rhythm. The hurt and pain within her eased and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his broad back. This was what it meant to be in love, both the good and the bad. From here on out, they would face their future together.

  “Are you two about done with the goddamn hugging? I don’t want to be mistaken for a murderer either. Stupid son of a bitch Karl.” Charlie shouldn’t know about killing or know a murderer up close and personal. She should be having fun and being a young woman. Instead she was dirty, muddy and in pain, stuck in the middle of nowhere with little chance of finding the rest of her sisters.

  Isabelle kissed Mason quickly and stepped out of his embrace. She took her sister’s hand again and then Mason’s.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The sun crept across the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. Mason squinted against the oncoming brightness, his eyes the least of his worries. He’d long since lost feeling in his feet. They were numb stumps attached to his legs, but somehow they were still moving forward.

  He hadn’t let go of Isabelle’s hand again. The three of them had marched forward through the night until he thought about throwing himself onto the mercy of a passing coyote. In the end, he walked because Isabelle and Charlie walked. He was the man and he couldn’t possibly quit before the females did.

  Then of course, there was the sheer fact his heart had exploded the night before. Isabelle had told him she loved him. Loved him. Him. Mason Bennett, bad boy and ridiculous heir to a plantation he refused to step foot on. Erstwhile professor and foolish chaser of gold.

  His world had shifted beneath his feet. He had even looked down at his feet, convinced the earth beneath his shoes was different from one moment to the next. She had given him a gift so precious he had never expected it nor did he know how to receive it.

  It was a conundrum he had not stopped thinking about since the words had passed her lips. Perhaps he had died when he was stripped, beaten and shot. This was heaven and hell smashed together like some kind of celestial joke. He was happier than a pig in shit, but in pain and confused. All he knew was her delicate hand was in his and he wouldn’t ever let it go.

  “I need water.” Charlie sounded as parched as he was, crumbly and crackly.

  “I know and I’m sorry, tamia, but we don’t have any.” Isabelle narrowed her dusty gaze at the wagon. “No doubt Camille got some sleep last night.”

  Mason wasn’t one to step up and beat on his chests like an ape, but he wasn’t about to let the woman he loved die of thirst. “Then it’s time she woke up.” He ran over to the front of the wagon and picked up a rock. He drew his arm back and threw it as hard as he could at Karl, who was driving the wagon.

  Bullseye.

  “Hey! Do you want me to shoot you, you stupid ijit?” Karl rubbed the side of his head where a small trickle of blood ran down his temple.

  “No, but we are about to either die of thirst, hunger or blood loss from the blisters that broke on our feet last night. You need to stop the wagon now.” Mason’s hands fisted and he considered just how satisfying it would be to break the other man’s jaw. Very satisfying.

  “Shut up. I don’t do nothing except when Camille tells me to.” Karl gave Mason the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

  Without a single thought as to what would happen after he proceeded with his foolhardy plan, Mason launched himself at Karl with a true scream of fury. His fists connected with the other man’s jaw with a thump that vibrated up his bones. They tumbled off the wagon in a pile of arms and legs. He didn’t stop punching, driven by a passionate need to hurt the man who had killed Mary and subjected the Chastain sisters to much cruelty. Hot blood spurted from Karl’s nose as it broke with a satisfying pop.

  Mason grunted and kept punching, his will overtaken by his rage. Karl made feeble sounds of protest, no longer the big man bullying or stabbing a woman. He deserved a beating. Perhaps he would remember how it felt the next time he decided to use his fists without provocation.

  Behind him, he heard Camille yelling and the oxen stamping the ground. Isabelle joined in the fray, while Charlie cussed at the top of her lungs. Mason was pleased to have caused such chaos. The Beckers needed to be taught a lesson in common human consideration and the difference between right and wrong.

  “Don’t hurt him, Gunther!” Isabelle shouted moments before Mason was plucked off Karl and tossed to the left as though he were a ragdoll.

  Mason rolled on the ground, this time with his clothes on, and got to his feet as soon as he stopped. Gunther stood between him and Karl, his eyebrows in an angry V. The big man hadn’t shown emotions and more or less resembled an oversized lump of clay. Yet now his face was flushed and he looked angry enough to snap Mason into two pieces. Possibly four.

  “My fight isn’t with you, Gunther.” Mason balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, knowi
ng his ability was his only chance of surviving the situation. “Karl deserved it. He killed Mary. Killed her. Do you understand that?” His voice had risen, echoing across the prairie. Everything had stopped, the air thick with the violence that had just occurred.

  Gunther hesitated. He looked behind him at Camille, who stood on the wagon seat, her face eerily calm. She glanced at Karl. “He did deserve it.” Her gaze passed over her bloodied son lying on the ground moaning as though he’d had his leg broken and not his face pulverized.

  Mason waited while Gunther digested his mother’s pronouncement. He growled at Mason and then turned to pick up Karl.

  “The oxen!” Charlie cried out in genuine distress.

  Isabelle gasped and both of them ran to the animals. While Gunther was distracted, Mason made a wide berth around the two Becker men to join the sisters. The oxen had suffered throughout their long night’s sojourn. Lather dripped from their mouths and their eyes rolled in the heads. Hercules was angry as all hell, if Mason was any judge.

  “I’ve told you, if you kill the animals, you kill us.” Isabelle was the angry one now. She didn’t touch the animals but she examined each of them by eye. “You should have stopped hours ago and given them water and food. Charlie, get the buckets.”

  Gunther set Karl in the back of the wagon while Charlie jumped around him to retrieve the water buckets. She stuck out her tongue at both men as she jumped back down off the wagon, her arms full of the dented water buckets for the oxen.

  Isabelle turned to him, her distress evident. “Mason, we need the water for them.”

  Mason headed toward the wagon, but he stopped short when Gunther growled again. Soon there would be reckoning between the two of them. That would not be the first, or the last time, he had rubbed someone the wrong way. He was notorious back home for wooing the women and annoying the men.

  His hand throbbed in tune with this thumping heart. How was he to get around Gunther and retrieve the water for the oxen? They were in distress and he wanted to be Isabelle’s hero of the moment. He wasn’t too proud to accept that fact either.