Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

“Mr. Hammond, he’s made lists of names—real names—his missis too. All of us choose what name we want, then Little Tony writes out certificates.”

“What name have you chosen?”

“Me? I was lucky. I just chose John. John Thackery.”

Jules stopped and thrust out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, John.”

He gave her a crooked grin and enfolded her small hand in his large one. “As for Little Tony, he’s now Mr. Anthony Washington.”

“That’s some name to live up to,” Jules said.

They rented two horses and rode out. Jules was wearing her new blue velvet riding habit and a jaunty little hat. She felt happy and content. The morning was sunny and warm. The rolling hills surrounding the wide valley were green from the winter rains. They reined in occasionally, Thackery showing her how the plots of land had been divided up, pointing out the constant building of small houses.

“I think Mr. Hammond has every banker in San Francisco involved,” he said. “The amount of lumber we need is incredible. Just look over there—”

There was a loud cracking sound. Jules whipped about to see Thackery grab his chest.

“Thackery!”

She tried desperately to keep him upright on his horse, but his weight was too great and he slid to the rocky ground. Jules dismounted quickly, rushing to him.

“Leave him be, Juliana.”

Jules knew that voice—it had played in her dreams countless times. Now it was hard and cajoling at the same time. And filled with triumph and satisfaction.

“I must help him,” she said, her voice blank from shock, still disbelieving. She felt Wilkes’s hand on her arm, felt him pull her about to face him.

“Look at me, Juliana.”

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

She felt his long fingers grasp her chin and force her face upward. “You’re insane,” she said. “I am nothing, nothing at all to you. Why?”

Jameson Wilkes sought the depths of her eyes. He laughed. “If I could answer that, my dear, in a fashion you could understand, I shouldn’t have lived in hell for so long a time. Come now, Juliana. We have a goodly distance to go.”

“No,” she said, her voice so calm it surprised her. “I must help Thackery.”

“You touch him, my dear, and I’ll put another bullet through his black hide.” He saw the flaring of fear in her eyes, and knew he had found his lever. “However, if you come with me, I’ll leave him as he is.” He didn’t want her fighting him, didn’t want her struggling until she hurt herself. He saw the growing stain of red on the black man’s chest and knew he would die in any case. But the man was tough, and Wilkes hoped he would make it back to tell Saint Morris. He was counting on it; that was why he hadn’t put a bullet through the man’s heart.

“You will die for this,” Jules said as she walked to her horse. “My husband will kill you for this.”

“Actually, my dear,” Wilkes said easily, “your husband is at this moment helping Byrony Hammond. From what I could tell with all the excitement, she is now birthing her child.”

Jules shut her eyes. When would she be missed? Would she be missed at all?

“Now, I believe I shall take your reins. Unfortunately, I cannot trust you to do as I bid you once we are away from your bodyguard.” He grasped her horse’s reins, pulling himself closer to her.

“Behave, Juliana, else I’ll tie you up. Remember how I tied you up before? There is much we will do together.”

Jules thought of her derringer, so safe and distant in the bottom of her valise. It was the oddest thing, but she wasn’t particularly afraid, for the fear of the reality was much less than the fear of his shadow and his threats. The fear would come, though, she knew it. But before it numbed her mind, she knew she had to think clearly. She had only herself to rely upon. As Wilkes nudged their horses forward, she turned in the saddle to see Thackery. Pain seared through her. He was lying utterly motionless on his side.

“You are a filthy man,” she said.

“Nothing a bath won’t cure,” Wilkes said. His eyes darkened, and she flinched. “Ah, you’re remembering those baths aboard my ship, aren’t you? And how I watched you and admired you.”

“No, I am remembering how I coshed you on the head. I wish only that I’d hit you harder.”

“Such a pity,” Wilkes said before turning his attention to the trail in front of them.