“I would have thought you’d be at Agnes Thurlong’s, having a leisurely Sunday meal with her family,” Jade said.
“And sit idly by while they try to ensnare me?” His smile grew. “I thought I’d be safer here at Millie Potter’s.”
Just then Millie and her young helper began to serve the meal. As she paused beside Wade, Millie placed several biscuits on his plate. “I baked these especially for you,” she murmured. “With extra sugar and cinnamon just the way you like them.”
Jade nearly choked on her laughter. Everyone in Hanging Tree knew that Millie, a widow, was hoping to snag a daddy for her three little girls. And who better than the town preacher?
“Oh, yes,” Jade said in an aside. “You’re definitely safer here.”
She savored her moment of victory while, beside her, Wade Weston dug into his meal in silence.
“That’s an awfully big building you’re putting up, Miss Jade.” Marshal Regan forked eggs onto his plate and passed the platter to Doc Prentice. “Folks in town are concerned.”
Jade felt the curious looks from the others. “Concerned, Marshal?”
“That your…business might attract the wrong sort.”
Jade gave him a cool, reassuring smile. “I think you and the people of Hanging Tree will be pleasantly surprised with the results. The Golden Dragon will be a place of music, culture and fine food. I intend to run the Golden Dragon just the way my mother did in San Francisco.”
“Sounds like a mighty big job for one little female,” Doc Prentice muttered.
Jade lifted her chin and bit back the words that threatened. Instead, sipping her tea, she merely smiled. She would show them. She would show all of them what one little female could do.
Beside her, Wade Weston detected the tiny flicker of emotion. The lady was very good at hiding her feelings.
Doc turned to the marshal. “I hear there was another shooting.”
The lawman nodded. “The other side of Poison Creek. Six outlaws ambushed Samuel Fisher on his way home from the sawmill where he’d been working for Farley Duke. Samuel was lucky to escape with his life. If it hadn’t been for his wife and four boys riding up just then, he swears he wouldn’t have made it.”
“Did he recognize any of the gang?” Doc asked.
“Not a one. Had their faces hidden behind bandannas. But from the sounds of it, they’re the same ones that have struck before.”
“Maybe it’s time to swear out a posse and go after them,” Doc suggested.
“I don’t like to take so many men away from their families. Especially with a vicious gang like this.” Quent Regan washed down his meal with hot black coffee, the fourth of the morning. “These outlaws seem to enjoy killing.”
“You think they’ll strike again?” Diamond asked quietly.
Quent shrugged. The badge pinned to his shirt winked in the rays of sunlight streaming through the dining-room window. “I don’t know what to think. But I’ll tell you one thing. No one’s going to terrorize the citizens of my territory. Not while I’m marshal. My deputy and I are taking every precaution to protect the town.”
Pearl shivered. “Such violence. I’m afraid I’ll never get used to it.”
“It’s part of Texas,” Diamond muttered.
“It’s part of life,” the marshal added.
“But it doesn’t have to be.” Wade’s words, though spoken softly, held a hint of steel.
Jade turned to study him. In profile, he didn’t resemble the man who had spoken so lovingly from the pulpit. With flaring nostrils and tightly clenched jaw, he looked as though he could lead a posse himself.
“It’s easy for you to say,” the marshal remarked, “when you carry a Bible instead of a gun. But you don’t earn your living chasing outlaws.”
“In a way, I do.” Wade’s tone softened, though the fire was still in his eyes. “You chase them to punish them, while I chase them to offer them the chance to seek forgiveness from those they’ve harmed.”
“Well,” Quent said, fiddling with his knife, “you may offer them forgiveness, Reverend. I offer justice. At the end of a rope.”
Doc Prentice nodded, his pencil-thin mustache twitching as he smiled. “It’s how our town got its name.”
Everyone knew that the doctor, though a relative newcomer to Texas, had a fascination for the history of the town.
“Have there been many hangings?” Pearl asked.
“I’ve been told there were dozens,” Doc replied.
“Was there an actual tree?” Jade asked.
“It’s gone now.” Doc Prentice helped himself to another biscuit and slathered it with Millie Potter’s wild cherry preserves. “They say that old oak was here a hundred years or more. It stood on a hill just outside of town. The branches stuck out like long, spindly arms. Just perfect for hanging a man. The first hanging was for cattle rustling. Folks came from miles around. Afterward they stayed and had a picnic on the banks of Poison Creek.”
He popped the biscuit into his mouth and chewed, then washed it down with a swallow of coffee. “After that it became a kind of tradition. Folks would flock to a hanging, then stay around to visit with the neighbors they hadn’t seen since the last time.”
Jade shuddered. “I can’t imagine having a picnic after such a horrible event. It seems so uncivilized.”
The marshal nodded in agreement. “Most of it was before my time. I hear it got so bad, folks were eager for the next hanging, just so they could have an excuse for another picnic. The sheriff finally had to request a federal judge be sent all the way from St. Louis.”
“What good would that do?” Jade asked.
“He figured a cool head was needed to keep the townspeople from making hasty decisions that might cost an innocent man his life.”
Beside her, Jade realized that the reverend had gone very still. When she glanced at him, he lowered his gaze. But in that brief moment when their eyes met she caught sight of a blazing anger. His hands were clenched so tightly in his lap, the knuckles were white from the effort.
Suddenly he pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me,” he called to Millie Potter, “I have a lot of visits to. make today. I promised Yancy I’d bring him some more tobacco. And I told the Thompsons I’d stop by and share a Bible reading with their boy who was thrown from a mustang and suffered a broken arm. Since the widow Purdy took another spell, I thought I’d stop by there, as well.”
“Sounds like you have a full day, Reverend.” Millie filled the marshal’s cup, then set down the coffeepot and wiped her hands on her apron before crossing the room. “But I should have expected as much. After all, it is Sunday. Will I see you later?”
He shrugged. “There’s no telling. If I find myself too far from town, I’ll just sleep along the trail.”
“Then you’d better take this.” She handed him a linen-wrapped bundle. “Just in case.”
“Thanks, Millie.” He turned to the others at the table and said his goodbyes.
Jade watched him pull on a cowhide duster and take his leave. She found herself wondering at his reaction to the marshal’s words. She’d sensed anger in him. And pain. Not so surprising, she told herself. After all, he was, as Marshal Regan said, a man who carried a Bible instead of a gun. The thought of mob violence would be repugnant to such a man.
Still,