The Devil's Daughter (12 page)

He bent back over the coffeepot, and for a moment the only sound in the cool night air was him carefully tapping grounds into the rapidly boiling water. There was a certain rhythm to his movements, a gentle yet continuous motion that slipped the grounds into the water in an even pattern, not anything like the way Lucy dumped them all in at once.

Maybe that was her problem.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Deacon’s forced cough.

“It’s a lot of land you’ve got here, Jedidiah.” His expression showed naught but indifference. “Lot of wide open,
empty
land.”

Lucy’s hard glare went ignored.

“It’s a fair size.” Jed straightened from the fire and looked around with that air of determination he always wore when talking about his land.

“Yes, but what will you do with so much emptiness?” Deacon wrinkled his nose, one brow arched in distaste.

This was a tactic Deacon used all the time, and in fact, one Lucy had used herself when she first arrived. With each small disappointment, a tiny bit of darkness pressed into Jed’s soul. She needed to prevent Deacon from causing too many of them, or Jed would fall to her brother instead.

“Might seem empty now.” Jed shrugged. “But not for long.”

His face shone with resolve and pride, and for a moment, Lucy wanted to share those feelings with him; to be so sure of something – so sure of
anything
– that she could ignore the dissenters and make her plan work. Problem was, her dissenters wielded more power than she did.

“We’re going to turn it into the best spread this county’s ever seen, ain’t that right, Lucy?”

She couldn’t answer. Words formed, her mouth opened to say them, but the smile he shone her way burned each syllable to her tongue.

“Miss Blake.” Jed stepped away from Lucy and toward the other woman as she closed the cabin door behind her.

“This is Lucy’s brother, Deacon.”

Berta’s face froze against a smile that started but never finished.

“Deacon,” Jed continued. “Miss Blake is here to help out with my-- ”

“Cooking,” Lucy interrupted, then ignored Jed when he rose his brow in question. “She’s here to teach me some new recipes.”

Deacon made no move to rise, but instead bobbed his head in acknowledgment, then laughed coldly. “Jedidiah and Lucille were just starting to tell me about their plans for this. . .land.”

Pale and skittish, Berta looked on the verge of collapse. Jed was so occupied with staring at Deacon, he didn’t seem to notice. Lucy pushed off her chair and led the other woman to it. Berta sat down hard, then twisted away from Deacon’s direct line of vision.

“Not feeling well?” Deacon asked with slight sneer.

“She’s fine,” Lucy answered, putting herself between them. “Just tired.”

This was Lucy’s job, not Deacon’s. These were her souls to take, not his.

“Yes,” he said dryly. “I imagine it must be exhausting to work a place like this.”

“It’s nothing Lucy and I can’t manage.” Jed’s voice was far from friendly.

“Lucille works?” Deacon snorted. “Doing what?”

Shame rose within her like a massive tidal wave. It was no secret she hated any kind of work, but the last week of helping Jed had done something to her.

She still didn’t want to do chores. She’d much rather have someone else do them, but once they were done, she felt. . .well, she wasn’t quite sure what to call it, but it made her want to hold her head up higher.

Strange.

“She cooks, tends the wash, and keeps the place tidy.”

Deacon didn’t look the least bit convinced. “
This
Lucille?” He waved his gloves in her direction. “I don’t think I’d risk eating anything out of her kitchen. You’ve never been much good at that sort of thing, have you, sister?”

She started to fire an answer back, but Jed stopped her. The fury in his voice was nothing compared to that in his eyes.

“You’ll mind what you say in front of my wife.”

Lucy’s shock was matched only by Deacon’s.

“Lucille doesn’t mind.” Deacon snorted, straightening in his seat. “She knows she has no talent--”

“That’s enough.” Jed’s tone left little room for interpretation.

“It’s okay, Jed.” Lucy slipped her hand under his elbow, trying to tug him back a little, but Jed was immovable. In fact, his entire body seemed to harden before her eyes.

The air between the men crackled with anger and something else only men could project. Jed stood rod straight beside Lucy, but Deacon remained in his chair, his ugly sneer fueling the tension.

“I’m sure Lucille appreciates your protection, Jedidiah,” he said. “But I don’t think chivalry is what she needs.”

“No?” Jed crossed his arms over his chest. “Well that’s funny, because I don’t think she needed to be left at an auction. I might not have much to offer her right now, but at least I care for her.”

He cared for her. Lucy fought to swallow. He cared for her. That was good.

No, it wasn’t. It’d mean. . .

Yes, it was!

It was what she needed. It was a starting point.

Flames danced in Deacon’s eyes – a sight Jed no doubt believed to be a reflection of the fire crackling nearby, but Lucy knew better.

The ferret poked its nose out of the hat, but Deacon’s gentle touch settled it back down.

“It was her choice to be there,” he said.

“Doesn’t make it right what you did to her.”

Deacon rolled his eyes and gave a very ungentlemanly snort. “Regardless, Jedidiah, surely you don’t think
this
is the kind of life Lucille is used to.”

The vein in Jed’s temple began to throb. His jaw muscle clenched, then released. Then clenched again.

“If you had taken proper care of her,” Jed’s voice was steely cold, “she wouldn’t have felt the need to sell herself off in a wife auction. And then maybe she could still be walking around in her fancy silk dress instead of working her hide off out here with me.”

Deacon tipped his head slightly, his eyes glowing with anger. As only Deacon could, he shut down his fury and shifted his attack.

“You misunderstand me, Jedidiah.” Deacon’s grin was anything but friendly. “I believe Lucille is finally living the kind of life she deserves.”

“Mind your tongue.” Jed’s arms dropped to his sides, his hands fisted against his thighs, his voice a low growl. “You’ll show Lucy the respect she deserves, especially when you come – uninvited – to our home.”

Berta inhaled sharply, but Deacon eyed Jed’s fists and simply smirked.

“If you mean to strike me, Jedidiah,” he said quietly, “I would advise against it.”

“Of course not,” Lucy interceded, then turned to Jed. “Deacon’s right.”

“No, he’s not.” Jed wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

A tiny shot of warmth burst inside Lucy’s heart – is that what pride felt like? Surely not. Pride was for humans who didn’t know better. She’d learned long ago that she had nothing to be proud of, and it was a lesson Deacon reminded her of every chance he got.

Deacon studied Jed for a long moment before he eased back. “My apologies,” he lied. “I meant no disrespect.”

Jed nodded slightly, but held his stance. “So long as we understand each other.”

“Perfectly.” He turned to Lucy, the flames still licking the depth of his eyes. “It would seem your husband has a soft spot in his heart for you already, dear sister.”

Lucy blinked.

“And I’d wager you have the same soft spot for him.” His icy grin forced a sharp shiver through Lucy. She couldn’t prevent him from reading Jed’s soul, or any other human’s, but she had to make damn good and sure he couldn’t read hers.

A second is all it would take for him to get in.

Silence fell over them, Jed and Deacon continuing to stare each other down until Deacon finally blinked and moved his glare back to Lucy.

“How about that coffee?” he asked over a forced chuckle.

Jed squeezed Lucy’s shoulder barely enough for her to notice, but it was enough to leave her feeling stronger and yet more vulnerable at the same time.

It was one thing for Jed to have a soft spot for her, but it was another thing entirely for her to feel the same.

She forced herself to hold her tongue when Jed moved toward his precious coffee. More than anything, she wanted to call him back, to have him pour more of his strength into her and help her through the rest of Deacon’s visit.

Instead, she lowered herself to the ground near Berta’s feet, forced her spine straight and her glare to harden on Deacon.

“It’s sure been hot lately.” Jed filled the coffee mugs and handed one to Deacon.

“I suppose.” Deacon didn’t bother to thank Jed, nor did he raise the mug to his mouth for a sip.

“Seems your sister doesn’t agree.” He sat down beside Lucy and offered her a small smile. “Always cold, aren’t you, Lucy?”

She smiled back and nodded, ignoring the twisted smile on her brother’s face.

When Deacon made no attempt to continue the conversation, Jed changed topics.

“Pretty soon we’ll have a good sized herd,” he said, then swallowed a large gulp of coffee. “Army’s looking for good-quality beef to feed the Indians they’ve pent up, so we’ll work out a deal with them that’ll keep us busy for years to come.”

Deacon snorted. “Seems a waste of perfectly good beef if you ask me.”

Every muscle in Jed’s face tightened. His knuckles whitened around his mug, and it was a long moment before he spoke. Lucy held her breath. Berta remained ashen and silent.

“Would you feel the same if it was your family the government had rounded up like a bunch of wild animals?”

“But that’s all they are anyway,” Deacon scoffed.

Lucy lay her hand on Jed’s knee, then shook her head slightly. His lips tightened into a thin line, and his eyes hardened, but he held his tongue.

“Does your plan for the land include a decent house?” Deacon tipped his head in the direction of the shanty, but kept his eyes focused on Jed and Lucy.

“We have a decent house,” Lucy quipped.

Jed’s expression was hard to read. For a moment she thought he was appreciative of her answer, but a heartbeat later, he looked different; regretful.

“We’re only going to start the house when we’ve saved enough to do it right,” he finally said.

“Oh really?” Deacon’s tone left little doubt as to how much he believed that.

“Yes, really,” Jed ground out. When he looked back at Lucy, his features softened. “I’m going to build Lucy a big house with everything she could ever want.”

Her pulse sped up; her stomach tingled.

“We’re going to have solid wood floors, lots of glass windows, curtains, sturdy furniture--” He paused, then added, “And one of them fancy bathtubs inside.”

Lucy fought the light growing in her soul. She sat stock-still, returning Deacon’s cold stare with one of her own. She could be indifferent. She’d had a lot of practice, and she’d need every ounce of her skill to pull this off.

If Jed noticed that he was the only one talking, or that Deacon didn’t even lift his mug to his lips, he didn’t let on. He simply kept talking as though his argument with Deacon had never happened. But every time his head was turned, Deacon made faces or rolled his eyes.

She had to get rid of her brother. The longer he was here, the more questions Jed would have about him. Questions she had no good answers for.

“How long are you planning to stay?” she asked, hoping Deacon caught onto her underlying tone.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “Depends on what happens.”

Jed frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Well, Jedidiah,” he said simply. “I hear there’s been some excitement in town lately what with that poor man disappearing recently.” He paused for effect, then widened his eyes in false shock. “Wait – his name was Caine, too. Brother perhaps?”

Jed nodded slightly.

“Then that would mean the crazy woman they speak of in town. . .she’s your family, too.”

No one answered, but Jed’s jaw clenched tighter.

“Very sad,” Deacon went on, pointedly looking at Lucy. “I think I’ll stay a while, just until the truth is revealed.”

Jed’s frowned, but he held his tongue. It was all the opportunity Lucy needed to end things before the two men started in on each other again.

“It’s getting late.” She rose from her chair and relieved her brother of his still full mug. “You best be heading back before it gets too dark.”

The sun hovered above the horizon, but they both knew it didn’t make a stitch of difference how many more minutes – or hours - of daylight they had left. Deacon didn’t walk anywhere. He just appeared. Or disappeared.

“You’re right.” He pushed to his feet and eased his ferret back into his pocket before setting his hat at a slight angle on his head. With a short bow in Jed’s direction, he sneered again. “Thank you for your hospitality.”