Diamond

  “You think you got away with it, don’t you?”

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Ruth Langan

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  “You think you got away with it, don’t you?”

  Diamond’s eyes blazed with little points of green flame. “Well, think again, Adam Winter. I’ll make you pay for what you did to my father.”

  Though Adam maintained his icy calm, a fire came into his eyes, turning them from silver to smoke. His fingers closed around her arm, and she felt his carefully controlled strength. When she tried to back away, he dragged her close.

  The moment he touched her, he felt a flare of heat that he blamed on his temper. “Don’t threaten me, Miss Jewel. And don’t try to back me into a corner. If you do, you won’t like what you find.”

  Though she trembled beneath his touch, Diamond lifted her head defiantly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Well you should be, Miss Jewel.... And if you’re wise, you’ll stay as far away from me as possible.”

  Dear Reader,

  Diamond is the first in Ruth Langan’s new Jewels of Texas series, featuring four sisters who are brought together by the death of their father. Diamond is a beauty in the rough who believes that drifter Adam Winter is responsible for her father’s death and is determined to bring him to justice, but her sisters have got other plans for the handsome Adam and their hard-nosed sibling. Don’t miss any of this great new series set on a ranch in Texas.

  In the third book of Suzanne Barclay’s Lion Trilogy, Lion’s Legacy, a Scottish warrior is hired to protect a tower from English raiders, but discovers that his benefactor has nothing to give him in return but the hand of his unwilling granddaughter. And in Emily French’s second book, Illusion, the growing love between an exsoldier and an heiress who have been drawn into a marriage of convenience is threatened by embezzlement and extortion.

  Our fourth book for the month, Twice Upon Time, author Nina Beaumont’s second Harlequin Historical time-travel novel, is an exciting tale of an ancient curse and a passion too strong to be denied.

  Whatever your taste in reading, we hope to keep you coming back for more. Please keep a lookout for Harlequin Historical novels wherever books are sold. Sincerely,

  Tracy Farrell

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Harlequin Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  RuthLangan

  Diamond

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN

  MADRID • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  Books by Ruth Langan

  Harlequin Historicals

  Mistress of the Seas #10

  †Texas Heart #31

  *Highland Barbarian #41

  *Highland Heather #65

  *Highland Fire #91

  *Highland Heart #111

  †Texas Healer #131

  Christmas Miracle #147

  †Texas Hero #180

  Deception #196

  *The Highlander #228

  Angel #245

  *Highland Heaven #269

  **Diamont #305

  †Texas Series

  *The Highland Series

  **The Jewels of Texas

  Harlequin Books

  Harlequin Historicals Christmas Stories 1990

  “Christmas at Bitter Creek”

  RUTH LANGAN

  traces her ancestry to Scotland and Ireland. It is no surprise, then, that she feels a kinship with the characters in her historical novels.

  Married to her childhood sweetheart, she has raised five children and lives in Michigan, the state where she was born and raised.

  To sisters everywhere.

  And especially to my sisters, Pat and Margaret.

  Our threads have woven a rich tapestry of

  family history.

  And of course to Tom,

  Whose love forever altered the fabric of my life.

  Prologue

  “You must eat something, Senorita Diamond.” Carmelita Alvarez had been the cook and housekeeper on the Jewel Ranch for nearly twenty years. That gave her the right to issue orders to the eighteen-year-old daughter of the owner.

  “No.” Diamond peered out the window into the gathering darkness. “Not until Pa gets home.”

  Carmelita was well aware of the close bond between father and daughter. But she would give it one last attempt. “The food grows cold.”

  “I’m sorry.” Diamond turned to the woman who hovered in the doorway, suddenly ashamed that she had allowed her fears to cloud her manners. “Is Rosario waiting to take you home?”

  “Sí.”

  “Then you should go.”

  “But the food...”

  “I’ll warm it when Pa gets here. You know I can’t eat without him. Go.” She waved idly as the woman left, then began to pace.

  Where was Pa? What was taking him so long?

  She should have insisted on going with him. She was always at his side. But this time, he’d slammed his office door and stormed out, saying he’d be home later. His sudden shift of mood had frightened her. It was so unlike her father. She’d never seen him so angry.

  She stopped her frantic pacing and resumed her watchful vigil. Pa would be home soon. Then they would settle down to share a meal. And Pa would take her into his confidence, as he always did.

  On the banks of Poison Creek, the flickering flames of a fire illuminated Onyx Jewel’s handsome face, which was twisted into a mask of rage.

  “I’ve always been a fair man. I expected the same from others.” He pounded a fist into his palm. “Why?” It was the only strangled word he was able to manage over his building fury.

  The other figure, draped in shadow, spoke not a word. But as Onyx turned away, a pistol was suddenly pressed into his back. A single gunshot rang out.

  Onyx Jewel half turned, his eyes wide with shock and surprise. “Not... you.”

  And then, as the pain struck and realization dawned that he had been mortally wounded, he fumbled for his gun. Anticipating his move, his attacker’s arm swung out, sending the pistol flying into the creek. Seized with a crippling pain, Onyx dropped to his knees and lifted a hand in an attempt to ensnare the offending arm.

  The other figure sidestepped out of reach.

  Onyx’s lips moved, but no words came out. He fell, facedown, and lay motionless.

  After a lengthy pause, the figure stepped closer. A hesitant touch to Onyx’s throat assured that his pulse had stopped.

  As hoofbeats echoed, bearing a lone rider into the lengthening shadows, the blood of Onyx Jewel spilled from his lifeless body. The still waters of Poison Creek reflected a bloodred sky. Off to the west, the crimson sunset bled into the snow atop Widow’s Peak. The whole of Texas seemed to be bleeding for its loss.

  Hanging Tree Gazette


  December 1, 1870

  Rancher Murdered

  Marshal Quent Regan was summoned to Poison Creek by a group of wranglers who found the body of Onyx Jewel, Hanging Tree’s most prominent citizen, shot in the back. Marshal Regan promised to comb the countryside until the villain is brought to justice. Cal McCabe, foreman for the Jewel Ranch, announced that Onyx Jewel’s daughter and only heir, Diamond, would continue operation of the cattle empire as her father would have wished.

  Within days, the article was repeated in newspapers across the country. It wasn’t often that news from the little Texas town of Hanging Tree made headlines in cities like Boston, San Francisco or St. Louis. But then, it wasn’t often that a man of Onyx Jewel’s stature was murdered, even in the rough-and-tumble state of Texas.

  Jewel, a cattleman, had carved an empire of more than one hundred thousand acres out of some of the most primitive land in Texas. What was even more impressive was that he’d managed to do so without acquiring a long list of enemies. Onyx Jewel was not only Hanging Tree’s wealthiest citizen, he was its most beloved. But someone had taken his life. Someone would have to pay.

  Chapter One

  Hanging Tree, Texas

  December 3, 1870

  “Remember. You’re dealing with a vicious killer.” Marshal Quent Regan’s breath plumed in the frosty air. “From all I’ve heard, Adam Winter won’t be taken without a fight. Stay alert. And stay alive.”

  Darkness still hung like a shroud over the land, though the first faint ribbons of light could be seen on the distant horizon. The six men, rifles at the ready, had dismounted nearly a mile back, leaving their horses tethered in a stand of trees. Given the reputation of the man they stalked, they were taking no chances. They wanted no sound to give them away. Their only hope of taking him alive was to catch him unawares.

  “Arlo.” At the marshal’s whispered command, the men halted. “You and the others surround the place. He might have a lookout posted out back.”

  The stocky deputy nodded as he and three men crept to the far side of the cabin.

  The marshal waited until they were in place, then moved stealthily forward, followed by a second man, whose glance swiveled from one side to the other, as if expecting at any moment to be blown away by blazing gunfire.

  The marshal studied the small building looming out of the darkness. It couldn’t really be called a cabin. It was little more than a shack, with four walls of rough-hewn timbers, the cracks gaping wide enough to admit a half-grown pup. There was a small window, where a hole had been cut in one wall in order to view approaching strangers. The door, swaying slightly, appeared to be tied shut from the inside. It would be an easy matter to kick it open and take the occupant by surprise, if luck stayed with them.

  “Ready?” The marshal gave a final look around before driving his foot against the door. At the same moment that it swung inward, he and his partner dashed inside, rifles aimed and cocked.

  “Don’t move, Winter, or I’ll blow a hole in you so big they won’t even be able to find your chest.” Marshal Regan used his voice like a weapon. He’d spent too many years dealing with the criminal element. Desperate men would do anything necessary to survive. They had to be subdued quickly, and made to understand that there would be no mercy.

  By the dim light of glowing coals in the fireplace, a figure could be seen sitting up in bed, one hand snaking out toward his gun.

  The marshal swept the pistol from the table beside the bed with the butt of his rifle.

  The man leaped from his bed and tackled the marshal, driving him hard against the wall. The marshal gave a grunt of pain as a knee jammed into his midsection.

  His deputy, seeing that the marshal was fighting a losing battle, brought his rifle into the stranger’s back and snarled, “You move a muscle, you’re dead.”

  The man turned on him and knocked the rifle aside as though it were a child’s toy. But as he started toward his pistol on the floor, the marshal’s voice stopped him.

  “Stay right there, Winter. This badge says I have the right to shoot you without another warning.”

  “Badge?” The man froze.

  “That’s right. I’m Marshal Quent Regan.”

  “Why didn’t you identify yourself right away? You could have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

  Seeing that the man was, for the moment, subdued, the marshal crossed the room and tossed the rifle propped up beside the bed to his partner.

  At that moment the rest of the men crowded inside the little cabin, dragging a scruffy, stooped old man whose hands had been hastily tied behind his back. Though his blue shirt was faded and torn, it still bore the markings of the Union army.

  “You were right, Marshal,” the deputy called with a trace of pride. “We found this old coot sleeping out back in a wagon. Probably a lookout.”

  “Ain’t no lookout,” the old man said through his tangled whiskers. “Just can’t stand to sleep inside. Gives me the sweats.”

  “Shut up, old man.” The marshal turned to the figure across the room. “Let’s go, Winter.” He picked up a shirt from the foot of the bed and tossed it. “Put this on. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you.”

  “That so?” The voice was deep, roughened with a combination of anger and the last vestiges of sleep. “Where am I going?”

  “You’re going to hell, where you belong,” the deputy called with a laugh.

  Adam Winter took a step toward him, and all six men, despite the fact that their rifles were trained on him, took a step back. He was a commanding figure, exuding power and something even more frightening — raw fury.

  “Would you care to tell me what this is about?” He kept his gaze level with the marshal’s.

  “It’s about the murder of Onyx Jewel. I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”

  “I have. But what’s that got to do with me?”

  “You’re sitting on land that borders the Jewel property.”

  Adam Winter remained silent. But the muscles of his arms bunched and tightened as his hands clenched at his sides. Every man in the cabin noted the movement, and their fingers tightened on their weapons.

  “Last I heard, that was no crime.”

  “The water you need for your cattle is on Jewel property.” The marshal nodded toward his deputy. “And Arlo here heard Onyx Jewel tell his foreman to see that your cattle were driven off his land and kept off his land.”

  “That doesn’t make me a murderer.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. That’s for a judge to decide. But Arlo also heard you threaten to kill Onyx Jewel if he didn’t stop damming up the river above your land. And, Winter, I don’t know where you come from, but here in Texas, men have killed for a whole lot less than water. Now, get dressed.”

  “Looks like you’re going to jail, Adam Winter,” came the mocking voice of the deputy. “And the town’s going to get to see what made it famous.”

  The hill overlooking the Jewel Ranch was barren and windswept, and resembled all the hills around it, except for the freshly dug hole. The entire town of Hanging Tree had gathered to watch Onyx Jewel’s last ride. Despite the presence of the preacher in his somber black suit, the crowd appeared almost festive, with the men and women in their Sunday best, and the occasional lilt of an innocent child’s laughter carried on the morning air.

  Dust spewed from horses’ hooves as a long line of wranglers led a procession from the ranch house, followed by a single wagon. Trotting alongside was a riderless horse. The ranch hands dismounted and formed two columns, standing at attention, while six cowboys lifted a simple pine box from the back of the wagon and carried it toward the grave. A lone figure, dressed like the other wranglers in boots and leather chaps, trailed slowly behind.

  When the procession came to a halt, a slender hand lifted to remove the wide-brimmed hat, and a mane of fiery hair spilled loose to drift on the wind.

  “It ain’t proper for a lady to go to a funeral dressed like a wrangler,” whispered town gossip Lavinia T
hurlong.

  “Especially to bury her own father,” added neighbor Gladys Witherspoon. “But then, Diamond Jewel never cared what others thought. For that matter, neither did her pa.”

  “I could tell you things—” Lavinia began, but a look from her long-suffering husband stopped her.

  Both women fell silent as the preacher’s words carried over the crowd.

  “...Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Thus shall a man live his life so that, like Onyx Jewel, when he comes face-to-face with his Maker, he need not cower and hide, but lift his head proudly and answer the invitation to enter paradise.” The preacher glanced around, meeting the gazes of several of his flock with a challenging look. “Let it be a lesson to all of us. We must live in such a way, as did Onyx Jewel, that we will not fear death when it comes to claim us.”

  Diamond Jewel stood alone, staring at her father’s casket. It wasn’t death she feared; it was living alone. Without Pa.

  It didn’t seem possible. They’d always been a team. Just the two of them. She couldn’t remember anything about her mother, who had died when Diamond was just a baby. But she would never forget a single thing about her proud, handsome father. For all of her years, he had been the center of her life. She’d taught herself to walk like him, talk like him, even ride and shoot like him. How would it be possible to go on without him?

  Two of the ranch hands helped lower the casket into the ground. At a word from the preacher, Diamond dug the first shovel of earth and scattered it over the casket. She had to swallow hard to hold back the lump that threatened to unravel all her hard-fought control.