Jade. Ruth Langan
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Nevada was here tonight,” someone said to Onyx, “or you’d be the one lying there dead.”
With a thoughtful look Onyx crossed the room and spoke to the man whose quick action had saved his life. He offered his hand, and the gunman accepted.
A few minutes later the authorities arrived, and Onyx and Ahn Lin drew a little away to answer their questions.
Taking advantage of the confusion, the gunman made his way to where Jade, pale and shaken, continued to stand alone in the little alcove.
“I’m sorry your birthday party was spoiled.” His voice, little more than a whisper, was low and deep, for her ears alone.
Jade’s pulse was still pounding in her temples. In her befuddled state she couldn’t put into words all that was whirling through her mind.
“Thank you.” She felt tears spring to her eyes and blinked them away. “Thank you for saving my father.”
He studied her, seeing the confusion, the numbness that signaled shock. Hoping to put her at ease he said lightly, “How old are you today?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen.” His gaze slowly trailed over her and she saw a strange look come into his eyes. If any other man had looked at her like that, she would have felt sullied. But this man had a way about him. Some strange charm that held her in its thrall. Despite the fact that he had just killed a man, he seemed relaxed, almost casual.
“It’s traditional to kiss a young lady on her sixteenth birthday. For luck.”
Without warning he leaned close and touched his lips to hers. It was the merest brushing of mouth to mouth. But she felt the tremors ripple through her body, leaving her shaking. She was so overcome with feeling she couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak. All she could do was stand very still and absorb the shock of his lips on hers, and pray her legs wouldn’t fail her.
When he took a step back, she strained to see his face, to memorize his handsome features. But all she could see were his eyes, hooded and mysterious, and his lips, curved into a dangerous, enigmatic smile.
“The drunk was right about one thing. You are the most beautiful woman in this room.”
Woman. She was startled by the term. No one had ever before called her a woman.
Then he did something so unexpected she could do nothing but stand, as still as a statue, too stunned to even react. He traced his index finger around the outline of her lips, then dipped it inside the moistness of her mouth. As she blinked, he lifted his finger to his own mouth, as if tasting her. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Without another word he turned, then melted into the milling crowd.
Jade felt suddenly bereft. He was gone. The man who had saved her father’s life. The most fascinating man she’d ever met had evaporated like the mist over the bay.
His bold kiss had stunned her. And his quick action had saved the life of the one who meant more to her than anyone in this world.
All she knew about him was his name. Nevada.
And the fact that he was capable of killing without emotion.
Hanging Tree, Texas1870
“I bring greetings, honorable Father.”
Jade Jewel bowed before the rough pile of stones that marked her parents’ graves. She often rode alone to the windswept site after the heat of the day had ended, finding solace in this primitive place that her father had so loved. How strange, she thought, that it was death that had finally joined them like a proper family.
When she had read of her father’s murder by an unknown assassin, she had left the Golden Dragon in the hands of Aunt Lily and a well-trained staff and had hurried to Texas. What she had discovered when she arrived, cloaked in shock and grief, were three half sisters who, though vastly different, found themselves bound by a common thread.
She had grown to love those three strangers. Diamond, as rough as this land that nurtured her, always dressed like her wranglers, in buckskins and boots, a gun belt perpetually at her hips. Pearl, educated in Boston, was the perfect lady, in prim, but-toned-up gowns and a parasol to shield her delicate skin from the harsh Texas sun. And Ruby, an earthy beauty from New Orleans, shocked the sensibilities of everyone with her revealing gowns and casual indifference to propriety.
Despite their differences, Jade had found friendship, acceptance and, best of all, a feeling of family love with these young women. And so she had stayed on, adding her dead mother’s ashes to this Texas soil, so that her parents were reunited in death as they never had been in life.
The evening sky was vivid slashes of red and gold against a backdrop of stark mountain peaks. A wild, desolate wind came keening across the hills, flaying the ends of Jade’s hair across her cheeks.
All day the summer air had been hotter than a funeral pyre. Now, with night approaching, it was cold enough to sting the skin and chill the bones.
To the occasional passing wrangler of the Jewel ranch, Jade presented a fascinating picture. A tiny, delicate creature, she had dark almond eyes and hair the color of a raven, falling thick and straight to below her waist. In a land of gingham and buckskin, she preferred the garb of her mother’s ancestors, a slim sheath of brilliant silk that fell to her ankles, with slits on either side for ease of walking. This day it was shimmering green, her favorite color, with a high mandarin collar and frog fasteners.
After a childhood spent in the luxury of San Francisco, this rough Texas landscape was alien to the young woman. But, she reminded herself, it was not nearly as difficult for her as it must have been for her mother, who had left the comfort of home and family in China to make a new life across the sea.
“What sustained you, Mother?” she whispered as she dropped to the earth on her knees. “Was it the ancient customs?” She moved her hand to the adjoining stones. “Or the love of one special man?”
She didn’t need to ask what had sustained Onyx Jewel, the man who had stolen her mother’s heart. Onyx was the most fearless man she had ever known. He had lived life to the fullest, until the day a coward’s bullet had put an end to him.
From her carriage Jade retrieved an enameled plate, decorated with exotic symbols. Holding a match to a small stick, she dropped it on the plate and watched as smoke curled, followed by a sweet, thick fragrance. As the incense burned, she again knelt by the graves and closed her eyes, trying to calm her troubled spirit.
“I think it would please you if I would remain here in your home, Father. But how can I put down roots in Texas and still follow the ancient ways?” She remained on her knees for long, silent moments. “I seek your wisdom, Father.”
In her mind’s eye she visualized her childhood home in San Francisco, the luxurious apartment atop the city’s most opulent pleasure palace. They had entertained kings and politicians, millionaires and actors. The rich and famous from all over the world had come there, to see and be seen. In that cosmopolitan setting, the daughter of Ahn Lin and Onyx Jewel had become skilled in the ways of the world. She had acquired a vast knowledge of languages and customs and intellectual pursuits. But she had no idea how to put such talents to use.
And then it came to her. The perfect solution to her dilemma.
As the vision faded, her lids fluttered, then opened. Her features relaxed into a smile of pleasure. “Of course. It is all so simple. It is exactly what the town of Hanging Tree needs. Thank you, my esteemed father, for sending me the vision. I shall begin work at once on the arts in which I have been trained. I shall reproduce here in Hanging Tree the pleasure palace of my youth.”
Jade guided the team through the wide dirt