“Any sign of Emma’s necklace?” Kat asked.
When Luke gave a negative shake of his head, Mari glanced at Emma, then asked, “How is Dair?”
Luke hesitated a long moment before replying, “He says he’s fine. I have my doubts.”
Emma just shut her eyes.
Trace removed his hat, smoothed back his hair, then returned his hat to his head. He and Logan shared a look before he said, “We’ll go back to town, then. The women can continue the treasure hunt once Campbell has been apprehended.”
“That’s a good idea,” Luke agreed.
Kat and Mari simply rode on. Logan laughed. “Y’all don’t have a lick of say-so over those women, do you?”
“Upon rare occasions we do,” Trace protested.
Kat glanced back over her shoulder. “We’re not stupid, Mr. Grey. If we thought it was truly dangerous we wouldn’t go, but we have plenty of protection. Besides, I still think everything is destined to turn out fine. I still believe my sisters and I are going to break the curse.”
They arrived at a small dog-trot style cabin a few minutes later. Jake stood guard on the front porch. Dair was nowhere to be seen. “I didn’t figure you’d be able to turn them back,” Jake said.
Luke shrugged. “Maybe they’ll find the treasure right away and we can get that part of this behind us.”
Everyone dismounted while Mari quizzed her husband about the search. “The cabin is small, Mari,” Luke told her. “MacRae went over every inch of it and didn’t see anything.”
“Where is he now?”
“Around back,” Jake responded. “He’s going over the outside of the cabin with a careful eye.”
“So he’s not worried that this Hamish Campbell already found the Sisters’ Prize?” Kat confirmed.
“It doesn’t look like it, honey.”
“I didn’t think so because we’re the ones who are destined to find it.” She looped her arms through Mari and Emma’s arms. “Right, sisters?”
“That’s right,” Mari declared. Emma’s only response was to ask Jake, “Any sign of my necklace?”
“’Fraid not.” Luke scanned the tree line, ever on guard. “I suspect we’ll find it on him when we find him.”
“All right then, let’s get to it.” Kat pulled pieces of notepaper from her pocket and passed one to everyone. “This is what the design we’re hunting for looks like. It could be anywhere, it will be permanent, but probably obscured.”
Dair came around the corner of the cabin holding a small framed picture in his hand. His gaze went right to Emma, then slid away. He spoke to Trace. “I might have found something.”
“What is it?”
“A watercolor of a cottage. I think it’s my mother’s home back in Scotland, but I’m not positive. I just know…there’s something about it. It’s important. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but I feel in my gut that it’s something we should pay attention to.”
“You think it’s a clue to the treasure’s whereabouts?” Trace asked.
“Maybe. Problem is I can’t see it now and I can’t remember what, if anything, my mother said about it.”
“May I see it?” Kat asked.
Wordlessly, Dair handed her the painting. Emma couldn’t help but glance at it. It was a charming picture, a country cottage with stone walls and a thatched roof. Flowers grew in abundance in the yard. Swirling circles of lavender and pink, yellow and white. Emma studied the painting, and then the dogtrot cabin. She didn’t see a resemblance between the two.
Mari peered over Kat’s shoulder. “Maybe the clue is something that’s missing rather than something that’s there.”
“That’s a thought,” Trace said. “What do you think, MacRae? Something missing from the picture?”
“I simply don’t know.”
“Or maybe it’s the brushstrokes,” Kat suggested. “I’ve read about painters who hide secret messages in their paintings by the brushstrokes.”
“It’s a watercolor, Kat,” Mari said. “They don’t exactly have brushstrokes like an oil painting does.”
“There still could be a hidden message.”
Dair shook his head. “I don’t think…wait.” He took the painting from Kat’s hands and stared at it hard. “It’s the colors.”
He turned away and strode up the porch steps and into the kitchen side of the cabin. Mari and Kat glanced at each other, then started to follow, Kat grabbing Emma’s hand and pulling her along, too. Emma considered resisting, but decided making a fuss would only delay matters.
Inside, Dair had hung the picture back on the wall. He stood with his legs spread, his arms folded, studying a blank spot on the wall opposite the cottage painting. “It was here,” he said. “A wooden shelf with a plain glass vase and flower.”
“Was that the treasure?” Kat asked.
“No…” Dair grimaced, closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s a…”
“Clue?” Mari suggested.
“Key.” Dair opened his eyes. “A key. Something about a key.”
The sisters remained quiet, giving him an opportunity to think. Dair continued to stare at the blank spot on the wall for a long minute. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything else. Look, I think we should keep searching. Maybe I’ll find something else that will jog my memory.”
Without waiting for comment, he walked out onto the porch and addressed Emma’s father. “I’ve divided up the surrounding property into search areas. There are eight of us. If we search by pairs and have two lookouts at all times, it should be safe enough. Do you agree?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Trace looked at Logan. “I reckon our range detective would suit as one lookout. I’ll be the other.”
Emma sent a pleading glance to Mari who rolled her eyes, then said, “Dair, can I search with you?”
Looking tired and worn, he nodded. “Sure.”
Kat snorted with disgust. “Then I get Luke. I’m not very happy with my husband today. I caught him slipping candy to the children last night at bedtime. After they brushed their teeth!”
“One time won’t hurt them,” Jake protested. “Yesterday was a very long day and they were good on the train. They deserved a reward.”
Once the marital bickering eased, Dair pointed out the search areas he’d put together. “In addition to the mark, we are looking for signs of a prior search. We can’t neglect the fact that Hamish Campbell might have some information we don’t.”
Next, the men discussed danger signals and agreed to a rendezvous place and time that would allow Mari and Kat to return to the hotel in plenty of time to feed their children their lunches. Emma intended to go with them. Her sisters planned to return for an afternoon treasure-hunting session if the Prize hadn’t yet been located by that time. Emma hoped that could be avoided.
The group broke up into pairs and Emma joined Jake in an examination of the area they’d been assigned. She paid attention and put effort into her search. The sooner the treasure was found or the possibility of finding it eliminated, the sooner she could put this part of her life behind her.
She was studying a carving in the trunk of an old oak tree when she heard Mari’s worried voice call, “Jake? Luke? Emma?”
“Yeah,” Luke called. “We’re here, honey.”
Seconds later, Mari rushed into view. “Emma. You have to come. Dair is…hurting.”
Her heart twisted. “Where is he?”
“I helped him back to the cabin. I’d stay, but Emma, I have to go back to town.” She gestured toward her breasts. “It’s time to feed the babies.”
Emma rushed toward the cabin, a lump the size of a peach in her throat. She couldn’t bear this. She couldn’t. She couldn’t.
She burst into the cabin. He sat at a wooden table, his elbows propped on his knees, his head buried in his hands. “Dair.”
“Go away, Emma. I don’t want you here.”
The tears now always so near the surface, swelled and spilled. Behind her, her father said, “Emmaline?”
“It’s okay, Papa. I’ll take care of him. I know what to do.”
In short order, her sisters and their husbands left to attend to responsibilities in town. Papa and Logan stayed behind, continuing their watchdog role while Emma did her best to make Dair comfortable. She coaxed him to move to the bed in the other room where she then sat with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair, his brow, his face, whispering in a soothing tone. “Please, God. Protect him. Be all right, Dair. Please, be all right.”
“Better with you,” he murmured. “Always, better with you.”
She lifted her hand long enough to brush away the tears from her cheek. Then, unable to help herself, she leaned over and kissed his temple. “Dair.”
He opened pain-clouded eyes. “It’s different this time, Texas. Pain is…pressure.” Dread filled her as he added, “If…hell…Jimbo. Kill me if Jimbo. Tell Grey. Want promise.”
Emma began to pray. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth. On Dair’s head, her touch remained gentle. The hand resting on his arm made a white-knuckled fist.
Then, from outside, she heard a frantic shout.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
W
ITH THE FORCE IN HIS
head increasing with every second, Dair needed every ounce of strength and grit within him to remain aware of his surroundings. When the cabin door opened and Logan half carried, half dragged Trace McBride inside, he fought to sit up.
“Papa.” Emma scrambled to help her father. “What happened?”
“Cougar,” Logan said, sitting Trace on the bed even as Dair struggled to rise and get out of the way. He saw jagged tears in Trace McBride’s skin all down his arm and across his back as Logan finished, “Clawed him pretty good. Teeth got him in a couple of places, too.”
Trace’s voice was labored. “Stumbled across her kits, I think. Wasn’t paying attention. Found a knife buried in a tree trunk. Looking at that.”
Logan frowned grimly. “He’s bleeding badly back here on his shoulder.”
“Keep pressure on the wound,” Emma instructed as she hurriedly rummaged through a dresser drawer. She removed a fine linen shirt and tried ineffectually to rip it.
“Here.” Logan drew a knife from inside his boot and sliced the shirt in two. “Sounds like this helped cause the trouble, so now it can be of some help.”
As Emma dampened the shirt with water from a pitcher, Dair noticed the blade his friend set on the bedside table. The pressure in his head escalated as his gaze locked on the dagger.
“Oh, Papa, you’re a mess.” Emma gently dabbed at Trace’s wounds, washing away dirt and blood, wincing at her father’s gasps of pain.
The dagger. What was it about the dagger? Some thought, some knowledge, hovered just beyond his reach, but then a great wave of pain washed over him. Distracted him. When he reached for the bedside table to steady himself, Logan touched his arm. “You all right, MacRae?” Then, “Oh, hell. You have another headache.”
Dair allowed his silence to answer as he stared down at the knife beside his hand, focusing on its jeweled hilt—emerald, sapphire, bloodred ruby.
Bloodred ruby. The haze over Dair’s vision thickened and he swayed. He was vaguely aware of Emma as she wrapped a long strip of shirt around her father’s torso and tied it tightly. She stepped away from the bed and stood watching the older man while gnawing at her bottom lip. “He’s bleeding too much. He needs a doctor.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “He can’t ride, and I hate to leave you here. Campbell could turn up at any time.”
Dair dragged his gaze away from the knife and worked to force words up through his throat and past his lips. “Go. Take Emma.”
Indecision painted Logan’s face. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dair, you’re in no shape…”
“Don’t waste time, Logan,” she declared. “I’m not leaving them. I won’t go. You must go. Quickly. Papa needs help fast.”
Logan hesitated only a moment before nodding once. “I’ll ride hard and I’ll be back with the sawbones quick as a minute. In the meantime, y’all keep your guard up.” To Dair, he said, “You able to shoot, MacRae?”
Dair gritted his teeth, nodded carefully. Moving his head almost made him pass out, but damn it, he wouldn’t let her down.
Once Logan rode out, Emma grabbed another shirt from the dresser drawer and ripped it into bandages also. She clicked her tongue over the bright red blood staining the white bandage wrapped around her father’s shoulder. “Oh, dear. Papa, it’s not tight enough. I want to tie it again. Dair can you help me? Dair?” She looked over at him. “Oh, Dair. You’re no better than Papa. You’d better sit down.”
“I’m fine,” he managed, barely. “How can I help?”
Her worried gaze searched his face, then she handed him a folded pad of linen. She sounded as if she were far away from him as she said, “Press this against the wound and hold it in place while I tie the bandage tighter around Papa’s shoulder, all right?”
Dair did as she requested, and as he stood over Trace McBride, the scent of blood surrounded him, sank into his pores, smothered him. He stood frozen, his brain pounding…pounding…pounding.
“That’s good.” Her voice was faint against the roar in his head. “Thank you.”
He backed away as Emma tended her father and looked at his bloody hand. Instead of a man’s hand, he saw the bloodstained fingers of a child.
“No.” Dair staggered back another step, then turned away. A roaring sound filled his head. He should leave. He needed to leave here. He glanced around the cabin wildly until his gaze fell upon the dagger. Narrowed to pinpricks on the jeweled hilt. In his mind’s eye, he saw a flash of a dark-haired woman.
Pretty stones,
said a boy’s voice.
Blue. Green. Red.
Bloodred.
Bloodred.
God, his head. Pressure. Building. More, more, more.
A woman’s voice from far away, “Papa? Papa!”
Mama.
Pounding…pounding…pounding.
Dair brought his hands up, pressed his palms against his temples.
Stop. Please, God. Make it stop.
He jerked his head around to stare at the four corners of the small room. Where was he? This was right, but still wrong. Acting on instinct alone, he moved from the bedroom across the covered breezeway into the cabin’s second room.
You must find her.
He heard a sound. A scream? Emma!
Safe. She’s safe. Tending her father.
A boy cried, “Mother!”