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Jade. Ruth Langan
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Jade walked between two shelves displaying an assortment of canned goods and bolts of fabric. She heard the rancher ask, “What good’s a place like that out here in the middle of nowhere? I mean, hell, Rufus, who can afford it?”
Rufus gave a muffled reply. “What do I care? As long as it ain’t my money, I’m willing to allow Miss Jade to build anything she wants. Don’t forget, the town’s growing. Last year alone we had the visiting judge stop by almost once a month. And those banker fellows, looking to take over Chester Pierce’s bank, after he got hung for shooting Onyx Jewel.” He lowered his voice. “It would seem that Hanging Tree is enjoying a building boom. Besides Miss Jewel’s place, Farley Duke has just finished work on his sawmill down by the creek. And there’s a rumor that the railroad’s coming to Hanging Tree. If it’s true, there’ll be cattlemen and railroad men and people from all over the country beating a path to our little town.”
“The railroad.” The rancher’s voice grew loud with excitement. “Why, Hanging Tree could become as big as Fort Worth. Or Abilene.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Rufus warmed to the subject. “Maybe I should add to my place. At roundup time, cattle drovers could clean me out in a single day.”
Jade smiled to herself as she selected a length of pale pink fabric for Pearl. She hoped the rumors were true about the railroad. If so, the Golden Dragon could become the most important watering hole in all of Texas.
Hearing footsteps, she whirled as Wade Weston walked up behind her. “Are you following me?”
“You flatter yourself, Miss Jewel.” He reached over her head and removed a tin of tobacco. “In the course of any given day, you’ll probably see half of Hanging Tree in Durfee’s Mercantile.”
She glanced at the object in his hand. “Tobacco, Reverend? I thought you were above such things.”
At her attempt to bait him into a fight, he merely smiled. “I’m riding out to visit old Yancy Winslow, and I thought he’d appreciate a little gift.”
“I should have known. You have no vices, do you?”
His smile grew. “None that I’d care to tell you about, Miss Jewel.”
As he sauntered away, Jade glowered at his back before following at a distance.
“’Course,” Rufus was saying to the rancher, lowering his voice for emphasis, “there always seems to be a dark side to a town’s growth. I’ve heard a few stories lately that had me wondering what this town’s coming to.”
“How do you mean?” the rancher asked.
Rufus lifted an apron and began polishing his spectacles, enjoying the fact that his audience had swelled. Two women from the town had just entered. Lavinia Thurlong and Gladys Witherspoon glared at Jade as she approached.
“There’s talk that a gang of outlaws might be in the territory. A rancher returned from tending his herd to find his wife and children dead, their house and barn torched. And that’s not all.”
“Go on, Rufus,” Lavinia urged. Her chin quivered with excitement. She couldn’t wait to pass along this juicy bit of gossip. “What else have you heard?”
Rufus took his time, enjoying the narrative. “Over in Crooked Creek a rancher was found shot in the back, his entire herd stolen. Some say it’s the Garland Gang.”
Though that meant nothing to Jade, she couldn’t help noticing the reaction of Reverend Weston. He had gone very still.
“Can’t be,” the rancher said. “I heard that gang disbanded a couple of years ago, after one of ‘em went to prison.”
“I heard that, too,” Rufus said. “But Marshal Regan thinks the killings sound like Ned Garland.”
Rufus took Jade’s money and handed her change, then turned his attention to the preacher. “You tell Yancy to give you a list of supplies, Reverend, and I’ll have my boys deliver them next time they’re out that way.”
“Thanks, Rufus. I’m sure Yancy will appreciate it.”
As Jade started out the door, Reverend Weston reached for the bolt of fabric in her hand.
“I can manage,” she protested.
“I’m sure you can.” He took it, held the door, then followed her to her rig. After setting the fabric carefully in the back, he covered it with an old quilt to protect it from the dust of the trail.
“Thank you.” She climbed aboard and caught up the reins. “But you might not want to be seen doing nice things for me, Reverend.” She gave a meaningful glance at the window of the mercantile, where Lavinia and Gladys could be seen watching. “After all, what will the good people of Hanging Tree think about their minister being seen with a wicked woman? They might decide you’re unfit to hold prayer meetings in their town.”
“I wouldn’t worry about my reputation if I were you, Miss Jewel. You’ll have enough to worry about with your own.” He gave her a dangerous smile and tipped his hat before sauntering away.
As she left the town of Hanging Tree, Jade struggled to put Wade Weston out of her mind. Why in the world should one small-town preacher cause her so much discomfort? He was, after all, smug, arrogant, overbearing. And far too perfect for her taste.
She would prefer an adventurer, like Onyx Jewel, the man who had won her mother’s heart. Or—the thought came unbidden to her mind—a mysterious gunman dressed all in black, who would calmly shoot anyone who threatened her harm, then kiss her until she was breathless.
With an effort she forced herself to put aside such nonsense and concentrate on the work ahead of her. She would have to go to San Francisco soon, to see to the furnishings for the Golden Dragon. There was only so much she could do by mail order. The rest would have to be arranged through her connections in the bustling California city.
The sound of her carriage blotted out the steady thrum of horses until they were nearly upon her. Turning, she was startled to see a cluster of horsemen. Their faces were hidden behind bandannas.
And their guns were all aimed at her.
The cold, hard lump of fear settled in Jade’s throat, threatening to choke her. Recalling Rufus’s tales of horror, she urged her team into a run. The pretty, gilded carriage raced across the dusty ground, jolting over ruts and rocks until, at times, it seemed airborne.
Even when she heard the sound of gunfire she refused to halt. Instead, she shouted to her horses, urging them even faster.
A quick glance over her shoulder showed the horsemen gaining. One rider, on a lathered mount, pulled ahead until he was even with her rig.
“Stop or you’re dead!” he shouted, leveling his pistol at her.
When he saw that she had no intention of obeying, he whipped his dust-covered mount until it reached her team. Leaning far over in the saddle, he caught the lead horse’s bridle and held on until the team came to a shuddering halt.
Horsemen surrounded her carriage, their guns drawn.
“Now, woman, step down,” one of them called.
“Let’s see what we worked so hard to catch,” shouted another.
The men laughed until a glance at their leader made the laughter die on their lips.
He remained astride his mount. Instead of a gun he now held a whip in his hand. A bandanna covered the lower part of his face. Only his eyes were visible beneath the wide-brimmed