Indigo Blue

  “Someday when you’re rich,” Mary Beth scoffed. “You’re startin’ to sound just like Pa. We ain’t never gonna strike it rich, Jacob, and you know it.”

  “Then I’ll get rich doin’ something else. Hush yourself, Mary Beth. You’ll make Sarah start takin’ on again.”

  “Better that than makin’ her promises you can’t keep. She don’t even got a coat.”

  “I’ll buy her a coat, and dresses, too. Just you watch. I’ll buy you all dresses.”

  Mary Beth’s eyes filled with tears again. She stared at him a moment, then lowered her gaze. “Even if you tried, Pa’d take your money and spend it on mining gear. All he cares about is finding color. He didn’t care if Ma hurt herself and the baby by workin’ so hard. And he don’t care about us. Sarah won’t never have a coat, nor dresses, neither. The only thing Pa’ll ever give her is a shovel with her name on it. Same for me and Rebecca.”

  Jacob had thought the same himself, but hearing it said out loud frightened him, especially now, after promising he’d watch after his sisters. He hadn’t been big enough to do Ma’s share of the work, but surely he would be by the time Mary Beth’s turn rolled around. She was going to be a small fry, just like Ma. Working in the digs would kill her.

  Jacob eyed the grave and remembered the desperate, pleading look in his mother’s eyes last night just before she died. With her only remaining strength, she had clutched his hands and whispered, “Take care of them for me, Jacob. Promise me you will. Don’t let your father . . .”

  Her voice had trailed off, and her beautiful dark eyes had fluttered closed, the remainder of her request left unspoken. Jacob had held tight to her hands, hardly able to speak around the sobs that had torn up his throat.

  I’ll take care of them, Ma. I promise I will. I won’t let it happen to the girls, Ma. I swear I won’t. It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be all right.

  Even as the words passed his lips, Jacob had known he was lying. His mother was dead. His father had killed her and her unborn child chasing a fool’s dream. Nothing would ever be all right again.

  Chapter 1

  Portland, 1885

  THOUGH DARKNESS HAD NOT YET FALLEN, the gas lamps in the study were lit to ward off the gloom of yet another rainy February day. Burning the lamps was the one luxury, aside from the two comfortable chairs and an occasional brandy, that Jake allowed himself in this room. Otherwise, he maintained an austere simplicity, evident in the knotty pine walls, his handmade but serviceable desk, and the rough plank bookshelves.

  He had selected the decor, if one could call it that, to create balance in his life and strike a mood totally at odds with the opulence of the rest of his home. The fireplace mantle was fashioned from a myrtlewood burl he had found years ago in southern Oregon. Above that a large painting of snowcapped Mount Shasta held court over a collection of nature scenes that took up every inch of available wall space, his favorite a crystalline mountain stream winding its way through a stand of dappled cottonwood trees.

  His fiancée, Emily, complained of the clutter and insisted, quite rightly, that he should redecorate. But, so far, Jake had put it off. He couldn’t explain why, wasn’t sure he even knew why, but he needed this room, every ugly, ill- matched inch of it. He felt at peace here as he did nowhere else.

  Jake usually kept the study door locked while he worked, and his family honored his wish to be left alone, but today had proved an exception. Earlier, two of his younger sisters had popped in with their broods in tow to bid him farewell before he left town on another business trip. Now Mary Beth had demanded an audience.

  Disgruntled because he had a great deal of work to do before he departed for southern Oregon, Jake loosened his cravat, tugged on the waist of his gold silk vest, and leaned back in his chair to regard the eldest of his sisters over his steepled fingers. Just in from a shopping trip and still wearing a walking suit of wine- colored lightweight wool, she looked like a princess perched there on his extra desk chair. A very unhappy princess. Though they both had their mother’s ebony hair and dark brown eyes and, according to some, shared the same insufferable stubborn streak, Jake had never yet come anywhere close to understanding Mary Beth. Her mood swings were as difficult to predict as Oregon’s constantly changing weather.

  After Joseph Rand’s first gold strike, their circumstances had taken a drastic turn for the better, and Jake had endeavored tirelessly since to keep it that way. She had everything she could possibly want. But was she happy? Hell, no. At twenty-seven, she should be accepting one of her many suitors and marrying so she could have a child before it was too late, not getting addlebrained notions about attending college.

  “Mary Beth, I’m expected to give Jeremy a briefing in ten minutes so he can handle everything here while I’m gone. I haven’t even begun to pack. I really don’t have time for this right now.”

  “And I have nothing but,” she replied sweetly.

  “I thought we discussed this to our mutual satisfaction last year.”

  She toyed with the silk-covered buttons of her suit. “We discussed it to your satisfaction, not mine.”

  A picture of his mother’s haggard face flashed in Jake’s mind. “You know how I feel about women working.”

  “Practicing law isn’t work. It’s a profession. A calling.”

  He picked up his pen and repositioned the papers he’d been working on. “I won’t have my sister shouldering a man’s load. I provide for you nicely. There’s nothing you can possibly want.”

  Her fist slammed down on the surface of his desk with enough force to make his pen squiggle. Jake assessed the damage, then drew up an eyebrow. He had backed men down with his glare. Mary Beth didn’t so much as flinch. Mary Beth, the bane of his existence, the one person who could goad him into losing his temper. Why she was his favorite sister, he hadn’t a clue.

  “Don’t go back to your work as if I’m not sitting here!” she cried. “We’re going to have this out here and now.”

  Jake laid down the pen and settled in his chair. He could only wonder what her strategy would be this time. After their last confrontation, she had shattered every glass object in the formal dining room. The time before that, she had taken to her bed for three days, refusing to eat. He had known all along, of course, that her maid, Charity, was sneaking her food. Mary Beth was nothing if not inventive.

  “I don’t run your life. You can do anything you like.”

  “Except work.”

  “Yes, except for that.” He noted the high color on her cheeks, a sure sign she was about ready to let fly. “You’re such a lovely woman. Isn’t there a single solitary man in Portland who catches your eye? I don’t care if he’s a street sweeper.”

  “And you’ll go buy him for me, I suppose? Just as you have all else. For once, I’d like to accomplish something on my own.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Besides, if the marital state is so blissful, why haven’t you married Emily? You’re thirty years old. Now that she’s out of mourning, there’s nothing holding you back. You’ve been engaged for over a year.”

  “Leave my relationship with Emily out of this.” Jake sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Emily. Like redecorating his study, she was another piece of unfinished business. For reasons totally beyond him, he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to set a wedding date. Regarding the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he said, “I’ve plenty on my plate. You have nothing but time on your hands, time which you utilize to concoct fantastic notions.”

  She shot from her chair. “Fantastic notions? Damn you, Jake. Sometimes I come so close to hating you, it’s frightening.”

  He flashed her a conciliatory grin and gestured at the books lining the wall. “Have you considered becoming a novelist? A poet? Why don’t you take up painting or sketching. The work Emily does is lovely. I don’t want to restrict you, Mary Beth, just protect you. Can’t you see that?”

  “I’m not another Emily. She’s so complacent, she makes m
e nauseated. Well, that’s not for me. If I study law, I can make a real difference in the world, Jake. I just know it, if only you’ll give me a chance.”

  “Honey, you’ve already made a difference. Think of all the people in this family who love you—who need you.”

  “That isn’t enough.” She threw up her hands.

  The beginnings of a headache centered behind Jake’s eyes. He rubbed absently at his forehead. “We’ve been over this ground a hundred times.”

  “And you know what’s best for me. I have the response memorized.” Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “And then you return to your work, forgetting my existence.” She waved a hand at the study. “And why not? You have the life you want.”

  Did he? In his peripheral vision, he could see the waiting paperwork. Tomorrow he was bound for a mining town to negotiate yet another acquisition for his father. When he returned, his desk would be piled high with still more papers. What was the point? To acquire more wealth? To make Mary Beth happy? The first made a cold bedmate, and he was clearly failing miserably at the second.

  “Mary Beth, what is it, exactly, that you want? Is it to be a lawyer? I doubt it. You’d detest it after six months.”

  She took a step toward him. In a quavery voice, she said, “Would I? Who are you to decide? What I detest is being made to suffer because you are trying to absolve yourself!”

  This was a new wrinkle. Jake narrowed an eye. “Absolve myself? What in hell does that mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounds like! Keeping me imprisoned in this tomb, protecting me from what you regard as the harsh realities, won’t bring our mother back. And it will never undo what our father did to her. Or that you stood by and watched it happen.”

  That stung. Jake rose slowly from his chair. “You, young lady, are an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. How dare you bring up what happened to our mother?” He braced his fists on the desk. “You ask why I haven’t married Emily yet? Think about it. When have I had time for a wife and family? If not for me, an empty belly would have driven you to those tent saloons in the mining camps. You’d have danced for your supper, and possibly more. Was that my sin? Working a second job to keep food on your plate?”

  “The threat of starvation ended so long ago that neither of us can even remember what hunger felt like.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not a child anymore. Yet you address me as ‘young lady’? How long has it been since you really looked at me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m looking at you now.”

  “Are you? You’ve become blind to everything but your own obsessions. As for sacrifices? Oh, yes, you’ve made them. So many that I could weep, not the least of which was your ethics. Do you know what breaks my heart the most? You’ve despised him all your life, and now you’ve become just like him.”

  Jake knew she referred to their father. The comparison was like a slap in the face. “I think we’d better postpone this little talk until we’re both a bit calmer.”

  “When? You’re leaving in the morning to visit another hellhole mining town. God knows Ore-Cal Enterprises needs every acquisition it can get its grasping hands on.”

  “That’s part of our business, Mary Beth, acquiring mines.”

  “Stealing them, more like.”

  The accusation knocked Jake clear off balance. “Stealing them? I’ve never stolen anything in my entire life!”

  “Haven’t you? If you want to pretend you’re blind to what’s going on, that’s fine by me, but please don’t further destroy our relationship by lying to me about it.”

  With that, she went to the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t say something like that and then walk out.”

  She froze with her hand on the doorknob. “Maybe I’ll go down to the waterfront and”—she tossed him a glare over her shoulder—“dance for my supper. Prostitution is a feminine pursuit, is it not?”

  Until that instant, Jake hadn’t realized Mary Beth even knew about the seedy activities that went on down at the waterfront.

  “Surely you can’t argue with my doing that. That is all we women are good for. Correct? Females, whom men either protect or use, depending upon their nature. You, Jake, are a protector. And I am your victim. If only you would marry poor Emily. Then perhaps you’d make her life miserable instead of mine.”

  With that, she walked out and slammed the door with such force that the walls reverberated. Jake stood there, frozen and feeling strangely numb. His victim?

  He sank into his chair. The ache behind his eyes intensified. With a vicious sweep of his arm, he cleared the papers from his desk. They fluttered aimlessly to the floor. He watched them land, knowing damned well he’d be picking them up in a minute. Propping an elbow on the desk, he rested his head on his hand.

  Scarcely a moment passed before he heard the door creak open. His brother, Jeremy, dark hair aglisten with raindrops, brown eyes dancing, poked his head into the room. “What the devil’s wrong with Mary Beth?”

  “Nothing compared to what will be wrong with her. One more word, and I swear I’ll throttle her.”

  Jeremy chuckled. Draping his gray frock coat over one arm, he stepped in and closed the door. The smell of rain, fresh air, and lavender swept in with him. Jake knew without asking that his handsome brother must have had late luncheon with one of his many ladies fair. Judging from the heavy scent of perfume, perhaps a bit more than luncheon.

  People claimed Jake and Jeremy bore a marked resemblance, both of them extraordinarily tall, broad at the shoulder, narrow of hip, with ebony hair and naturally burnished skin, made even darker by their mutual penchant for being outdoors. Jake couldn’t see the likeness, though, aside from the slightest of similarities. One look from Jeremy sent women spinning onto their backs like unbalanced tops.

  “Jesus, Jeremy, you smell like a French whore.”

  His brother tugged on his starched white collar and stretched his neck, the picture of satiated masculinity. “Athena does go a bit heavy on the scent. A woman of excesses, that’s Athena, bless her generous heart.”

  Jake searched his mind for a woman of their acquaintance who bore that name. “The dairyman’s daughter? The one who looks—”

  “Who noticed her face? The girl’s glorious from the chin down. And don’t preach. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m old enough to tend my own stew.”

  Jake gave it up as a lost cause. “Your stew stirring is the least of my troubles.”

  In response to Jeremy’s questioning look, Jake gave him a quick account of his argument with their sister.

  Jeremy’s teeth flashed in a grin.

  Tugging up a gray pant leg, he perched his hip on the edge of Jake’s desk. “At least she’s gotten past the scalpel stage, and it’s nothing bloody this time.”

  Jake sank into the soft leather cushion of his chair and leaned his head back. As he let his eyes drift closed, he asked, “Am I wrong, Jer? Is my way of thinking so terribly unfair?”

  Jeremy took a moment to answer. “I don’t think it’s a question of right or wrong, fair or unfair. There are times, though, when I believe it’s possible to love people so much that we make the mistake of trying to wrap them in cotton.”

  A heavy silence fell between them. Jake recalled Mary Beth’s words and was plagued by uncertainty. He had felt guilty about his mother’s death. To this day, he could remember shirking his chores the afternoon she died to play with Jeremy. His mother had gone to the creek and hauled the water herself. Though nineteen years had passed and he could look back on it now as an adult, realizing that any overworked eleven-year-old boy probably would have done the same, Jake couldn’t quite forgive himself. It was frightening to think he’d spent all these years trying to atone for his father’s sins. It was even scarier to think he’d forced Mary Beth to do penance with him.

  “Tell me . . .” he said hoarsely. “If you were I, Jeremy, what would you do about Mary Beth?”

  Jeremy sighed. “I don’t know. The hard par
t is that I can understand both sides. Mary Beth feels that her life is meaningless. But I can see how you feel, too. I can’t blame you for wanting to keep her home, where you have some control.”

  Control. Was that how everyone saw it? “You know what it’d be like for her if I let her attend school. She’d meet with more opposition than she can possibly imagine getting admitted to the bar.”

  Jeremy picked up the gold nugget from Jake’s desk that served as a paperweight. “Mary Beth’s a little bored, Jake, but boredom won’t kill her. She’ll get over this, just like she has a dozen other times. Why are you so upset? You’ve always laughed it off before.”

  “Because I want to do right by her.” Jake sat more erect, not quite able to put his feelings about Mary Beth into words. “Why does it have to be my decision, anyway?”

  Jeremy laughed and held up his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t! Leave me out of it.”

  “She’s making me feel like a jailer.”

  “Don’t pull me into your battles, Jake. Either way I go, I can’t win. You’re the eldest, and it’s your responsibility.”

  “Maybe I’m tired of the responsibility.” Jake pushed up from his chair and paced a moment. Raking a hand through his hair, he paused before the window to gaze out into the street. A carriage passed by, its wheels sending up twin sprays of muddy water. “At least you can reason with her. God knows I can’t. When she gets on these tangents, the first thing I know, I’m so furious all I can do is yell. She had the audacity to accuse me of underhanded business tactics. Can you believe that?”

  Jeremy made no response. Curious, Jake glanced over his shoulder. His brother kept his head bent, studying the gold nugget. Jake turned and waited. Jeremy remained silent.

  “Well, aren’t you going to laugh?” Jake asked. “I’ve never done a dishonest thing in my life.”

  Jake walked slowly back to the desk. “Jeremy . . . ?”

  Sliding from his perch, Jeremy returned the nugget to its place, his broad shoulders stiff beneath the gray silk of his vest. The sleeves of his white shirt stretched taut over the bunched muscles in his upper arms. “Now isn’t the time, Jake.”