JADE STAR by Catherine Coulter

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little mite. When he’d been a slave, it had never occurred to him that a white man or white woman could know a moment of unhappiness. Whiteness seemed to him then to be the key to all that was pleasant on this damned earth. Well, maybe white folk in California had more problems than those in Mississippi. He looked at Mrs. Saint, saw the pleading and defiance in those vivid green eyes of hers, and knew he had to say something, do something.

He temporized. ‘I could just take that little thing away from you, Mrs. Saint.’

‘You try it, Thackery,’ she said flatly, her eyes narrowed, ‘and I’ll … well, I’ll make you very sorry.’

‘You just would, wouldn’t you? No, don’t answer that. I ain’t going to help you, and that’s that.’

He wouldn’t budge, and after another few minutes of fierce arguing, Jules gave up. She refused to speak to him all the way back to San Francisco. His last words before he left her at home were, ‘I’m going to the Wild Star to see Mr. Hammond. You just keep that damned toy put away, you hear?’

‘I hear,’ Jules said, and stomped into the house.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jules asked Thomas a few moments later. She was

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surprised to see him at home.

Thomas gave her a big smile. ‘I came home to ask Lydia to make something special for dinner. Penelope is coming.’

Jules groaned. ‘Does she have manners yet, Thomas?’

‘If she throws her peas at you, I’ll put her bottom in the air,’ he said, grinning widely. ‘Oh, yes, the Hammonds are in the city, and Saint invited them also. Seven o’clock. All right?’

Jules nodded. ‘Where is Michael?’ she asked.

Thomas scratched his head. ‘I think he said something about seeing a Mrs. Branigan.’ Jules sucked in her breath. His mistress!

No, she amended, not his mistress. His lover, his former lover. ‘Why?’ she asked, and immediately regretted asking.

‘How would I know, sis? He’s a doctor, isn’t he?’

But Saint wasn’t being a doctor, not on this visit. He sat in Jane’s parlor, a cup of tea balanced on his knee. The boys were outside playing at last, and Jane was fidgeting about, straightening the pillows on a chair.

‘Well?’ Saint asked finally.

Jt5s your wife, Saint,’ Jane said, watching him closely. She saw him close his eyes briefly, a look of pain crossing his face.

‘What about her?’ he asked harshly.

‘Joe saw her today. She bought a gun at Haverson’s. I thought you should know.’ Saint stared at her, disbelieving. ‘He’s

wrong,’ he said flatly. ‘There’s no earthly reason for her to buy a gun. Thackery is with her all the time.’

‘Joe assured me it was true,’ Jane said. ‘That boy likes to fight, but he doesn’t lie. You know that, Saint.’

‘Hell and damnation! Sorry, Jane.’ He set down the teacup and rose to his feet. ‘I don’t bloody believe this!’ He began pacing in ferocious silence, his brow knit.

‘You should also know,’ Jane continued carefully after a few moments, ‘that she visited Maggie the other afternoon. I heard it from a man who came to pick up his shirts. He didn’t understand why Saint Morris’wife was visiting a whorehouse.’

‘Shit,’ said Saint very softly. ‘Sorry, Jane.’ ‘There appears to be a serpent in paradise.’ Yes, he thought, the serpent was his

damned manhood! Such a ridiculous thought brought a momentary smile to his face. A rigid serpent. He laughed, a harsh, grating sound.

‘Saint,’ Jane said, moving quickly to him and laying her hand lightly on his shoulder, ‘I’m sorry, but I thought you should know.’

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She regretted her sarcastic comment, and wanted to make amends. ‘Please, Saint, if you want to talk about it, you know I’m a good listener.’

‘There’s nothing whatsoever to talk about,’ he said. ‘I suppose I knew things weren’t going all that well 5but there’s nothing like keeping one’s eyes closed, is there? No, don’t answer that ‘ Jane. I’ve got to be going. I have the dubious pleasure of having Penelope Stevenson to dinner this evening.’

‘Good luck, Saint,’ she called after him softly, but he didn’t hear her.