Sam and Lacey continued to stare at one another long after Rusty left. Lacey was the first to break the weighted silence. "You let me go on thinking you were dead all these years! Why!"
Sam searched for his tongue and finally found it, along with his anger. "You damn well know why! Did you think I would return to you after you betrayed me?"
"I had nothing to do with that."
Bitterness colored his words. "Tell it to someone who will believe you."
"I begged Captain Wiltshire to tell me what happened to you. All he'd say was that you'd been taken to a ship to be transported north to prison. I wrote to Washington but they had no record of you ever being in one of their prisons. I was told that you had probably died before you arrived at the prison, given the condition of the prison ships. I didn't want to believe you were dead but everything I'd been told pointed in that direction."
"Captain Wiltshire!" Sam spat. "Wasn't he that blond Yankee who came for me after you betrayed me? Did you take up with him after he carted me away?" He gave a bark of laughter. "You didn't really think he would trade me for your brother, did you?"
A pained look crossed Lacey's face. "I didn't know it then, but my brother had already died at Andersonville. Something Captain Wiltshire neglected to tell us."
His voice held a biting edge. "So your betrayal was for nothing. Well, you needn't have worried. I never made reached the prison. It's true that I a Yankee patrol escorted me to the prison ship, but they were set upon by Rebel forces and I was set free. I survived the rest of the war without a scratch."
"Why didn't you tell me you were alive? I'm your wife! I had a right to know."
"You had no rights where I was concerned. You lost them the day the Yankees came for me."
"Why are you here? How did you find me?"
"I'm here by accident; I had no idea I'd find you here. In fact, I never even think about you. It's like you never existed."
Lacey looked stricken, but she immediately recovered. "Did you end our marriage? Have you taken another wife?"
"I saw no reason to end our marriage since I had no desire to remarry...ever. You taught me that women were untrustworthy. I was young and foolish when we met. The war, the threat of sudden death, does strange things to men. Our marriage should have never happened. Over the years I managed to forget I had a wife. I understand you're to be married soon, so I suspect I'm not the only one who forgot our marriage."
Lacey's chin quivered but she wouldn't give in to her anger. "I thought you were dead. I waited six years for you to return to me. What else was I to think?"
"Nice try, Lacey, but it won't work. How many lovers have you taken since that day we paparted? I understand you have a son."
"Leave Andy out of this. He has nothing to do with you and me."
"Who's the boy's father? Is it Wiltshire? Why wouldn't he marry you? Oh, that's right, you were already married. Whose name does the boy carry?"
"Mama, Mama! Rita made sugar cookies. Can I have one?"
The lad who burst into the room was the image of Lacey. Right down to his blond ringlets and pert nose. Only his eyes were different. They were a clear, guileless blue. Sam knew immediately the boy wasn't his for the Gentry men were all dark-haired and dark-eyed. Obviously the lad belonged to the blond Captain Wiltshire, just like he'd suspected.
Sam watched dispassionately as Lacey held out her arms and Andy ran into them.
"Can I, Mama? I promise to eat all my lunch."
"Of course, Andy, run along now. Tell Rita you can have a cookie. But only one."
Andy beamed at her. Then he noticed Sam for the first time. "You're new here, aren't you, mister?"
The boy was so appealing Sam couldn't stop the smile that sprang to his lips. "I just hired on. My name's Sam. What's your name?"
"Andy."
"Andy what? You have a last name, don't you?"
"Sam..." The warning came from Lacey, but was promptly ignored.
"Andy Gentry," the boy said. My papa's dead. He died in the war. Mama said he was a hero."
Sam stared at Lacey, his expression fierce. "She did, did she? How old are you?"
Andy puffed out his chest. "Five. Almost a man. Man enough to take care of Mama, anyway."
"Run along, love," Lacey said. "Mister...er...Sam and I need to talk."
"I'll see you around, Sam," Andy called over his shoulder as he flew out the door.
"You gave him my last name!" Sam hissed. "He's the picture of Wiltshire. Why does your bastard bear my name?"
"I don't owe you any explanations," Lacey blasted. "What do you intend to do about our marriage? Will you apply for a divorce or shall I?"
The stubborn streak in Sam spoke before his saner self thought his answer through. "I'm not going to do a damn thing."
Anger made him want to hurt Lacey. If throwing a monkey wrench into her wedding plans hurt her, then so be it. Let her suffer as he had suffered. He had married her because he'd loved her. She had found him in a field littered with bodies after a battle in Pennsylvania. His leg had been broken by a minnie ball and she'd taken him in and healed him, hiding him from the Yankees.
They had fallen in love...or rather he had fallen in love. Her father had caught them making love one night and dragged the preacher out of bed to marry them. He was nearly recovered when the Yankees came for him. Tom Peters, Lacey's father, led him to believe that Lacey had betrayed him, and Sam had no reason to doubt him. He was told she had done it to save her brother. Captain Wiltshire had informed them that Ron Peters was being held in a Southern prison and so ill he might die. It was Sam's belief that Lacey had offered Sam as a trade for her brother.
Lacey paled. "What did you say?"
"You're not getting out of this marriage that easily. Does your intended know your son is a bastard? Have you told him anything about your background?"
"Damn you," Lacey hissed. "Taylor Cramer knows I'm a widow. Andy's birth was legal in every way."
"But you're not a widow, are you? And Andy isn't mine." He paused, suddenly appalled by what Lacey had done. "How dare you give your son my last name!"
"What other choice did I have? I was your wife, I bear your name."
"Wife, bah! Do you know how betrayed I felt when the Yankees came for me? Do you have any idea the anguish you put me through? I loved you, dammit! It sickens me to think how young and foolish I was back then."
"I wasn't even there when Captain Wiltshire came for you. It wasn't my doing. Do you know how I felt when you showed up alive and well today? My first reaction was shock. Then anger took over when I remembered all the years you let me think you were dead."
"You were dead to me, why shouldn't I be dead to you?"
A frisson of guilt passed through Sam, but he pushed it aside. What Lacey had done to him was unforgivable. He shouldn't feel any remorse for letting her believe he was dead. Obviously she hadn't grieved too long. Her son Andy was proof that she hadn't waited to take a lover.
"Surely you don't intend to stay here," Lacey said. "I'm to be married in a few weeks."
Sam sent her a mocking smile. "I don't think so."
"Sam, please. If you ever cared for me you'd..."
His dark eyes narrowed and his face hardened. "The young man who loved you no longer exists. Sorry, Lacey, there will be no marriage. Do you want to tell Cramer or shall I?"
Lacey gulped back a cutting reply. She didn't know this Sam and had no idea what he was capable of. The Sam she'd once loved was kind and loving and sweet. This Sam was hard and cold and unfeeling. Why did he have to return from the dead?
"I'll tell him, in my own good time. But he won't take this lying down. He wants to marry me and...and...I want to marry him."
Dark, glittering eyes searched her face. "You don't sound all that convinced. This ought to prove interesting. It's your turn to hurt for awhile."
Sam didn't know what hurting was, Lacey thought. She'd been devastated to learn her father had betrayed Sam. When no one could tell he
r what had happened to Sam, and she thought that he had died in a prison camp, she'd felt as if her life had ended. Knowing that Sam went to his death believing she had betrayed him had nearly killed her. Then she learned that she was pregnant and her son had given her a reason to go on.
Now Sam had turned up in her life again, but it wasn't the Sam she had loved. She knew intuitively that this vindictive man wouldn't listen to her explanation so she didn't give him one. She wanted him gone, before painful memories made her recall all the things she had loved about Sam Gentry.
"I can fire you," Lacey charged. "I don't have to hire you on. I own the B&G and can fire and hire whomever I please."
"You can't fire me, Lacey. I'm your husband. You may own the B&G but I own you. May I assume you still have our marriage license?"
"You may assume whatever you like."
"Of course you'd still have it. It's the only way you can prove Andy's legitimacy, even though I'm not the boy's father."
Lacey hesitated. Now would be a good time to tell Sam that Andy was his son, but a voice inside her told her it would be unwise to divulge that information. She had no idea if Sam would react favorably toward his son. If he believed her he might try to take Andy from her, but she seriously doubted he would believe her.
Lacey decided to take a reasonable approach. "It would be best for both of us if you left and let me quietly pursue a divorce."
Sam mulled over Lacey's request and rejected it out of hand. He didn't want a divorce, but it wasn't because he still felt emotionally bound to Lacey. Far from it. He felt nothing but contempt for her.
"Sorry, Lacey. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stick around for awhile." He headed toward the door. "I'll see you tonight at supper."
"What!"
His tone made a mockery of his words. "I think it's time I got to know my son, don't you?"
"Damn you, Sam Gentry! If you hurt Andy I'll never forgive you."
Sam closed the door behind her tirade and leaned against it. Seeing Lacey after all these years had taken a toll on him. She had changed from an innocent young girl to a beautiful, mature woman. Childbirth had enhanced her figure; rounded curves fulfilled the promise of her youthful, immature figure. Her blond hair hadn't darkened, but remained the color of ripe wheat, and her eyes were still the entrancing hazel he remembered. He could easily look back and see how he had come to love her.
Pushing himself away from the door, Sam left the house and headed for the corral. Rusty was waiting for him.
Rusty eyed Sam narrowly. "You and Miz Lacey must have had a lot to talk about. Ain't never known her to talk to one of the new hands so long. Are you staying or ain't you?"
"I'm staying."
That brief answer didn't seem to appease Rusty's curiosity. "What did you and Miz Lacey talk about?"
"This and that. What do you have for me to do today, Rusty?"
Rusty must have realized he was getting nothing more from Sam. "Keep your secrets, Sam. We can use you in the north pasture. The herd needs to be moved to a field with better grazing. If this draught doesn't end soon, our cows are gonna start dropping like flies. Saddle your horse and meet me by the fence. I'll take you out there myself."
While Sam was saddling his horse, Andy peeped into the corral, saw Sam, and hurried up to join him.
"Did Rusty hire you on?"
Sam sent the boy a cursory glance. "Yep. I'm headed out to the north pasture now."
"You'll like it here. Everybody likes Mama and Rusty. Where you from, Sam?"
The boy was a friendly sort, Sam gave him that much. "Up around Kansas way."
"Me and Mama moved here with Uncle Hob after Grandpa died. We used to live in Pennsylvania. Did I tell you my daddy died in the war?"
"Yep. I hear you're gonna have another daddy soon," Sam couldn't help asking.
Sam almost burst out laughing at the face Andy made.
"Mean old Cramer will never be my daddy," Andy said with a vehemence that immediately sobered Sam. "He wasn't even in the war. He doesn't like me and I don't like him."
"Have you told your mother how you feel?"
Andy nodded glumly. "She said I'm imagining things. She says we need mean old Cramer to save the ranch." His five-year-old face puckered, as if he wanted to cry. "I don't care about the ranch. I don't want Mama to marry mean that man."
An unwanted pang of compassion touched Sam's heart. He had to admit the little tyke was appealing. He couldn't help the circumstances of his birth. He was innocent of his mother's misdeeds. Sam's compassion, however, didn't extend to accepting Andy as his son, irregardless of the fact that the boy bore the Gentry name.
Sam mounted his horse. "I gotta go now, Andy. We'll talk about this later, if you'd like."
Andy beamed up at him. "I'd like that, Sam. Rusty don't mind if I talk to him but he's always so busy. I'll see you later."
Sam worked his butt off that day. He couldn't recall when he'd been so tired. Farming was hard work but ranching was no child's play. He'd met some of the hands and found them all to be congenial fellows. When they had gathered together to eat the lunch Luke brought them, Sam listened to the talk and concluded that most of the hands intensely disliked Taylor Cramer. As he washed up at the pump, he recalled bits and pieces of the conversation.
"Miz Lacey is too good for Cramer," a young man named Bart said.
A hand known as Lefty for the obvious reason added his opinion. "I don't plan on sticking around after she marries Cramer."
Several grunts of agreement followed. Sam decided to find out what the hands had against Cramer.
"Why do you all dislike Cramer," he drawled, pretending only slight interest.
"For starters, he don't like Andy," Lefty explained.
"You got that right, Lefty," young Bart agreed. "Andy gets in the way sometimes, but he's a friendly little fellow. I don't mind his questions. Cramer seems to resent the kid. Don't know why Miz Lacey can't see it."
"We all know why," Lefty injected. "He's rich and Miz Lacey needs money to save the ranch. I think Cramer has some private agenda, too. He's wanted the ranch for a good long time."
"Why doesn't the boss apply for a loan?" Sam ventured.
"She's a woman. Banks don't loan money to women," Lefty elaborated.
Sam had gotten more from that conversation than he wanted. He shouldn't care what happened to Lacey, or what went on in her life, but hearing to the hands complain about Cramer got his dander up and made him more than a little curious about the man Lacey intended to marry.
Sam finished up at the pump and saw Rusty headed in his direction. "I'll walk with you to the cookhouse, Sam," Rusty said. "Luke's serving up his special stew tonight."
"I'm taking supper at the big house tonight," Sam answered.
Rusty stopped in his tracks. "You what? Did I hear right, son? Did you say you were having supper with Miz Lacey and Andy?"
"You heard right, Rusty."
Rusty removed his hat and scratched his head. "What's going on, Sam? That don't sound like Miz Lacey. Are you sure she asked you for supper."
"Yep. I'm heading up there as soon as I change."
Rusty grinned. "Well, don't that beat all. Miz Lacey must have taken a shine to you. I haven't seen her interested in a man since she came to live with Hob Bigelow."
"She must have been interested enough in Taylor Cramer to agree to marry him."
Rusty crammed his head back on his head. "Yeah, well, I ain't so sure about that. Watch your manners up there. Miz Lacey is a lady."
Sam rolled his eyes. He knew Lacey better than anyone. She was a lady, all right, a lady without a heart.
Lacey paced restlessly, pausing every so often to look out the window. Sam wouldn't really come, would he? Inviting himself for supper took nerve, but this new Sam had nerve in abundance. What would Rusty and the hands think? She'd never invited a ranch hand to take a meal at the big house before. To her knowledge, neither had Uncle Hob, except for Rusty, and he was more of a friend than a
foreman.
Perhaps she should feed Andy first. Get him out of the way so Sam wouldn't hurt him. Yes, that's what she'd do. She started toward the kitchen. Rita met her in the doorway.
"Senor Sam is here, Senora. He came in the back door. Shall I show him to the parlor?"
Sam pushed past the rotund little woman, which was no easy feat. "Don't bother, Rita. I'm already here."
"Si, Senor. Supper is ready. I'll call Andy."
"Here I am, Rita," Andy said, darting into the room. "I hope we have chocolate cake for dessert."
"Si, it is what you ordered, is it not?"
"You spoil him, Rita," Lacey said, smiling.
"Take your mother's other arm, Andy, we'll both take her in to supper."
Eyes shining, Andy offered his arm to Lacey.
"Are you eating with us, Sam?"
"Do you mind?"
He sent Lacey a wary look. "Not if Mama don't mind."
Lacey fumed in silent fury. There was little she could say with Andy around.
They reached the dining room and Lacey seated herself at the head of the table, settling her skirts around her. Sam slid into the chair on her left and Andy sat in his usual spot on her right. Rita entered almost immediately with platters of roast beef, browned potatoes, peas, mixed greens and fresh bread.
They ate in silence. Lacey toyed with her food, refraining from starting a conversation for fear of what Sam would say in front of Andy.
"I'm done, Mama," Andy said, showing Lacey his empty plate. "Can I have my cake now?"
Rita entered as if on cue with three thick portions of dark chocolate cake.
"Chocolate cake is one of my favorites, Andy," Sam said, eyeing the cake with appreciation.
Lacey said nothing. Each time Sam spoke to Andy her heart broke a little. Andy needed a father but Sam didn't fit the bill. There was too much anger inside him. All she wanted was to get Sam out of her life before he spoiled things for her and Taylor.
Taylor! She had yet to tell him that her husband was alive and she didn't look forward to it. Then again, perhaps Taylor could help her obtain a speedy divorce.
Andy yawned hugely and set down his fork. "I'm full, Mama."
The Outlaws: Sam Page 2