Treasure, Darkly (Treasure Chronicles Book 1) Read online

“We would never shun you,” Amethyst’s mother said. How could she be all right with this? Amethyst cocked her head as she studied the woman she’d idolized as a child. Her mother’s calm demeanor could quell any argument.

  “Mother,” Jeremiah roared. “Father was unfaithful to you!”

  The woman blinked at her son. “I understand that. Amends have been made. Clark should not suffer for any of that.”

  Amethyst nodded. Despite the years, her mother still had that awe-inspiring ability to radiate authority.

  If Amethyst’s husband had been the one fooling around with a whore and got her pregnant, Amethyst would’ve kicked him away. She sipped her water and wrinkled her brow. It just couldn’t quench this antsy mood of hers like alcohol would have. It didn’t give her that buzz that made everything bright, cheerful.

  “I want to thank you,” Clark began when Jeremiah slammed his fist into the table. The chill from his blue-gray eyes could have frosted the windows. Ah, if only. That would have been another intriguing sight.

  Jeremiah drew back his upper lip in a sneer. “What’s he going to do here? Use up our money on education? Join the army? This is my ranch. You told me I’m inheriting it.”

  Garth cleared his throat. “This is my ranch. Clark will work here. He’ll defer to you, but he’ll still be considered my son. The rewrite of my will is not under discussion at this point.”

  “This will make a scandal,” Zachariah said. He pulled on his linen napkin as though wanting to rip it apart.

  Amethyst leaned back in her high-backed chair, grinning. Scandals were always fun. Some of the city papers called her the queen of them. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t known that particular Mr. Smith had been married when he’d wanted to court her. The other instances…well…at least she’d never let them get under her skirts.

  “We will endure a scandal.” Garth lifted his goblet again. “Together.”

  Her mother lifted hers, so Amethyst joined in. Maybe they’d give her something a little stronger. Clark lowered his gaze to the embroidered tablecloth, but joined in. After a pause, Zachariah did, too. Snorting, Jeremiah stomped from the room. The front door slammed, the sound echoing from the hallway.

  “He’ll come around,” Garth said. “I’ll see to it.”

  “It will take some time,” his wife added.

  “I want to thank you with everything in me.” Clark blushed. What a sweet comment.

  Amethyst sipped her water again. Yes, he did think he really was her father’s bastard. Maybe he was. How delightful. A scruffy brother who would know the best places in town to have fun.

  Clark gasped at the bedroom Garth had given him. It had to be the same size as most saloon halls, with an attached bath and sitting room. The walls were painted a pale red, with a green carpet on the hardwood floor. Brocade curtains hung on the two windows facing his four-poster bed, complete with blankets and pillows. The other furniture consisted of a wardrobe, desk, and bedside table. The bath had a real porcelain tub and one of the new toilets that sported a brass chain used to flush. He’d only ever heard about running water in houses, but never expected to actually use any.

  “Are you certain you don’t have any luggage anywhere?” Mistress Treasure inquired from the doorway. She clasped her hands in front of her belly, smiling with her cherub lips, smooth and dark, not chapped and peeling like his mother’s. She’d caked them with cosmetics to hide the imperfections.

  “No, ma’am.” Clark met her gaze. He owed her that. She could’ve thrown him to the streets from spite. “No luggage.” Those on the run didn’t own a lot.

  “I won’t ask you to call me Mother. I know that would be too personal a request. Georgette will work fine.”

  No one of worth had ever asked him to be so familiar. “Thank you, ma’am.” How could she be so understanding?

  She trilled a laugh as she hung the door key on a brass hook. “Georgette. Please.”

  “Georgette.” He nodded. What a wonderful woman, too perfect to be true.

  “Although we are rich, we still work. There is always something to do. I expect you to earn your stay.” She trailed her fingernails over the doorframe. “You will have the same privileges as my children. If you desire to attend a university, so be it. If you want your own ranch, we can arrange that, too.”

  Clark bowed. “Your kindness is incredible.” He would stay there, though, safe beneath the Treasure name. The army could reach him if he left.

  “For now, I ask you to stay and accustom yourself to your new family.” She swept into the room to press her hand over his heart. “Thank you for coming here, Clark. Thank you for finding us.” She kissed his cheek before leaving, closing the door behind her.

  He rubbed his face and whistled. Hope for a welcome had been a given, but he’d never expected such a warm opening.

  Clark wandered into the bathroom. The claw footed tub called to him, but so did the bed. He should bathe before getting beneath the covers. It had been months since he’d gotten to wash more than his hands and face. Clark peeled off his jacket and shirt, but when he started on his slacks, he realized he would need something else to wear. Although he slept naked, he shouldn’t his first night in the house. Anyone might come in. He didn’t know the household routine yet.

  The wardrobe stood empty and Clark swore beneath his breath. Of course they wouldn’t leave clothes in a guest room. The sitting room might have a robe, though. Didn’t rich folk lounge in robes?

  He stepped into the room and froze. The Treasure girl lounged on the velveteen settee with a glass of chardonnay balanced against her lips, one arm flung over the back of the furniture. If he were back in Tangled Wire, the wine would be cheaper. They only had the good stuff when the army brought it along.

  “Cheers.” She raised her glass. “I’ve been dying for something like this since I left New Addison City.”

  “What…?” Clark coughed when his voice squeaked. “What’re you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.” She rolled her blue eyes, stretching her slender legs across the settee, her ankles hooked together. She wore a white silk robe with yellow flowers embroidered across the wide sleeves. It hung open in the front to reveal a lacey camisole and pale blue corset. A gold chain hung around her porcelain neck.

  He could almost taste her pulse if he leaned over.

  Clark jerked back. He couldn’t think like that. She was his sister. Half-sister, sure, but family. Real family.

  “You have to leave.” He pointed at the main door. “Now.”

  “Why?” She poured the chardonnay down her throat and gulped it.

  “This isn’t proper.” The last girl who’d confronted him like that had been a Tarnished Silver. He’d known what she’d wanted and he’d paid her extra for it, in his mother’s memory, no matter how twisted that sounded in his mind. “Brass glass.”

  Her eyes widened at the cuss. “I hope you don’t mind if I drink this. It was in the liquor cabinet up here. I worried Father would miss the stuff downstairs.” The Treasure girl set the glass on the floorboard. “So, are you really my brother?”

  “Yes.” He steeled his voice, and another part of him stiffened. Bloody wretch. Had the Treasures sent her up here to tempt him into admitting he wasn’t one of the brood? Curses to her—he was blood related. The letter and picture, and his mother’s claims, proved that. Garth had agreed.

  “Huh.” She hiccupped and giggled. How much had she drunk before he’d arrived upstairs? He glanced around the room, half the size of the main bedroom, until he found the liquor cabinet. A half-empty bottle rested on top. Quite a bit, then.

  “Do you know if there’s anywhere around here for a party?” She picked at her white, fingerless gloves. The lace seemed to stick to her fingernails. At first he thought they were painted black, but it was a dark crimson.

  “How did you get in here?” Mistress Treasure had unlocked the door for him when he first entered.

  She pointed at the glass doors in the back of the room. “T
he second floor balcony goes all the way around. You can visit anyone. Maybe”—she blinked her kohl-streaked eyes—“you should lock them.”

  “I will.” He hoped the ice in his voice scared her.

  She giggled. “You’re so unfriendly.” When she stood, she wobbled, but caught her balance on his arm. Her breath smelled of peppermint and alcohol, her blue eyes glazed.

  It would be too easy to push her back onto the settee and nip her shoulder where the robe had slipped.

  Clark nudged her toward the open glass doors. “This isn’t proper.” The wealthy clung to manners far more than the penniless. Manners didn’t mean much in the scheme of survival.

  “We’re family.” She swung her hips on her way to the balcony, pausing with her hand on the brass knob. “I like a good time. I like you. My parents will help anyone. It’s surprising they have anything left. Zachariah will do whatever Father says.”

  “All right.” The breeze brushed his chest and he remembered he’d taken off his shirt. She could see his bare skin, his scars.

  She bit her lower lip, already dark from paint. “The real challenge will be Jeremiah. Be careful he doesn’t kill you.”

  “He can’t,” Clark whispered. The tonic he’d drank those years past would make that near impossible.

  lark leaned his arm against the bedroom window to watch the morning unfold on the ranch. If he craned his neck, he could see part of the barnyard. A worker crossed the gravel path with a sack slung over his shoulder and another worker fed the chickens in the fenced-in area behind the barn. Jeremiah rode across the field atop his horse.

  Clark had risen with the sun, watching it streak purple and gold in the sky. He’d dressed and waited for a servant to fetch him…only, no one had come. If Jeremiah was up, then Clark would have to do something besides sit on the bed and read from the bookshelf of classics over the nightstand. The Treasures would have to find him something to do while he sought refuge with them. He could work on the ranch with the best of anyone. He’d done odd jobs like that since he’d fled Tangled Wire.

  Shuddering, Clark headed into the hallway. Some of those odd jobs still haunted him, like the time he’d needed to play butcher. This ranch would provide him the cover he needed to drift into the background: another rich man’s bastard, another ranch worker. Clark grinned as the perfect disguise slid over him. The army would never guess.

  The air smelled of cinnamon potpourri wafting from porcelain bowls on velvet-draped shelves along the hallway. The doors remained closed, each covered by damask curtains; most were pulled back and hooked into brass holders near the door hinges. He expected to meet a servant—weren’t these places crawling with them?—but he didn’t find anyone until he ventured downstairs where Georgette Treasure arranged roses in a crystal vase on the marble table near the front door. Beside the vase rested a bowl of peppermints. She turned to him with a smile brighter than he would’ve expected. Could she really be pleased with his presence? Clark wiped his palm across his mouth to hide his wince.

  She held out her hand. “Good morning. Jeremiah wanted to wake you, but I wasn’t sure what time you rise.”

  He hesitated before taking her hand to kiss her knuckles. He’d been around enough wealthy folk to know they craved obedience. “Early. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stayed in bed.”

  “Come down whenever you want. There will always be something for breakfast.” She tsked her tongue. “This way, please.” The bustle on the back of her red dress bounced as she led him into the kitchen.

  A servant kneaded dough on the table; flour puffed around him. From his dark skin, Clark realized he was Bromi, one of the natives the president had driven from Hedlund so he could build ranches. Clark averted his gaze to the cauldron bubbling over the hearth fire. If the man was Bromi, then he was a slave, not a servant.

  “Anytime you’re hungry, Nolan will fix you something. He’s in charge of the kitchen.” Georgette nodded to the slave.

  Clark refrained from snorting. The Bromi named themselves after aspects of nature. He doubted this man had been given the name “Nolan” by his parents.

  “I can cook for myself,” Clark said. It might not be as delicious as the supper the day before, but it would sustain him: meat, potatoes, and hardtack. If he were lucky, a farmer might give him leftover crops that weren’t sellable. His mouth watered remembering the old turnips he’d gotten a week before.

  “Of course not. If you want to be a Treasure, then you’ll act like one of us.” She brushed her painted fingernails over his cheek. “Don’t worry, dear. You’ll get used to it. Although we don’t cook our own meals, we’re always eager to help. Anytime you want to try out the kitchen, Nolan will assist you.”

  What would it be like not to worry about being too tired to cook, not wondering if he would have something to eat the next day? Clark glanced at the Bromi, but the slave didn’t look up from his bread dough.

  “My husband is attending to paperwork this morning and Jeremiah works the ranch every day. Zachariah took Amethyst into town. Things have built up since she was here last.”

  Georgette stared at him with her unblinking gray eyes, so Clark figured he should say something cordial. “How long ago was that?”

  “About three years, I would say. I thought you and I could get to know each other today, if that’s suitable.”

  She didn’t want to replace his mother. She wanted to welcome him entirely. Clark grinned despite his thumping pulse. “That’d be great.” They’d be less inclined to come after him if stunning Georgette Treasure had him beneath her wing.

  “We’ll visit the seamstress and have proper attire sewn for you.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t have any money.” As a Treasure, would she be willing to pay? His father had begotten him, after all.

  “Nonsense. I’ll put it on my husband’s tab.”

  Excellent.

  “Then, I thought we could go to Tangled Wire.”

  Clark choked on his saliva. “W-what?” The army might still be there even though the mine had run dry. One of the soldiers might recognize him, and if not them, then one of the villagers. They’d been searching for him when he fled.

  “My husband had an affair without my knowledge.” Georgette didn’t blink as she spoke, each word slow and spaced. “I want to see this Tangled Wire. I want to speak to people who knew him and your mother.” Her lips softened. “And you.”

  His heart thudded. “It ain’t a great place, ma’am.”

  “Isn’t,” she corrected, “and I know. That’s why I want you to take me. I trust you.”

  “Ma’am….” Pressure built along his forehead and his eyes watered. Everything might be ruined if they returned. They’d lock him up. Use him to try out their stupid invention.

  “I have adopted my husband’s secret love child. As a family, we work to help each other, to care for one another. You will do this for me.” Her lips pursed, Georgette turned away. “Nolan, see that he eats. Clark, as soon as you’re through, we’ll depart.” She marched into the hallway with her heels clicking the hardwood floor.

  “Brass glass.” Clark sank into the chair at the table. If he wanted the Treasure protection, he’d have to brave the waters, and pray he would escape.

  Nolan chuckled.

  Clark fidgeted on the seat of the open steamcoach. The driver sat on the bench behind him and, across from him, Georgette smiled at the countryside. Clark had never seen anyone take so much pleasure from burnt grass nature. The way her eyes twinkled beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet, she seemed to love the open fields and sparse trees, the dry dirt that showed signs of drought. Soon they would reach Southern Hedlund, where the drought would be more apparent.

  Clark tapped his heel against the floor and clicked his tongue. In two more hours, they would reach Tangled Wire. Without the mine, the town might’ve dried up like the dirt that blew around the steamcoach’s wheels. Nothing but shacks might remain.

  “What education have you had?” Georgette smoothed her gl
oved hands over her brown skirt. She’d changed into a corduroy outfit and leather coat. The wealthy dressed for the occasion. Clark glanced down at his clothes, the same from the day before, the only set he owned.

  “Mama taught me to read so I’d know what the letter from…Mr. Treasure said.” My father might be awkward to say. “The saloon owner showed me my numbers so I could help with the accounting. I got a few extra pennies if the books came out right.”

  “Would you like to attend more schooling?”

  “No, ma’am. I know all I need.” The hot wind blew over the back of his neck where his ponytail bared his skin.

  She pursed her lips. “As a Treasure, you can never learn enough.”

  He picked at the cushion on the seat. Great, he’d offended her. “Begging your pardon, ma’am. I’ve never needed education.”

  “Jeremiah will show you the ranch books and my husband can teach you some of his files. Zachariah can tell you about the army. You might be interested in joining.”

  Clark stared at the passing desert so she wouldn’t see his glare. Blast the army. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “There are also boarding schools and universities, if you decide to take that path.” She removed a canteen from beneath her seat and took a drink before passing it to him. He nodded his gratitude and sipped it. The water tasted lukewarm, but it helped his dry tongue. He pushed the cork back into the top and handed it back. Sometimes, he’d gone days without fresh water.

  “All these years, you must’ve dreamed about meeting your father.” Georgette tapped her fingers against the sides of the metal canteen. “How did you imagine it? I assume it was to be more graceful than what occurred.”

  Clark shrugged. He’d known what his father would look like from the photograph, but he’d always wanted his mother to be the one to confront Garth Treasure. She would demand he take care of them. Garth would, even if he didn’t love Clark’s mother. He could set them up in an apartment in a city, like what wealthy men did for their mistresses. Everything would be paid for and Garth would never have to tell this other family.