A Texan's Luck

by Jodi Thomas

  Walker remained calm as she stormed. He didn't plan to back down an inch. The money was rightfully hers.

  "If you don't want it, I'll stack your apartment full of supplies before I leave and tell Willard to restock every month."

  "He wouldn't—"

  "He would if it meant a sale, and we both know it,"

  Walker said. "So you can pick out the supplies you need and take the allotment, or I can guess what you'll need, but you're taking the money."

  "No."

  Walker leaned forward in the chair. "Look, I'm not easy to find. How about you agree to keep the money for that rainy day you worry about. What does it matter if you have a few dollars squirreled away or a few thousand? If you can't make the payroll one week, you'll be glad you have it."

  "Can I give all the guys a raise in salary? I don't think they've had one in years."

  "It's your money. Do whatever you like." He saw the crack in her armor. "But my guess is they could really use a raise, so I'd hope you'd make it a fair one. And maybe you could stock up on a few of the supplies around here. And make sure you've enough wood to last the winter." He could go on, but he didn't want to push it.

  "I'd like to buy your father a proper marker. He always paid his own way. He even left me money for his funeral, but I only had enough for a wooden cross."

  "Lacy, no one can tell you how to spend the money; it's yours. We'll go pick out a stone today, if it's important to you." Walker relaxed, realizing that he'd won.

  "It is," she stated. "I'd like to order a few new parts for the printing press. We've been making do. And wood to last the winter is a good idea. Eli can come to work on cold days and be warm in the shop."

  "You could buy a little house if you like with that much money and have somewhere to go besides upstairs after work." Walker advised.

  "No. I'll not go wasting my rainy day money when I have a perfectly good place to sleep upstairs."

  Walker smiled, realizing she'd finally called the account hers. "But—"

  She leaned down and poked his chest, sending his chair backward a few inches. "Now don't go telling me how to spend my money, Captain," she warned with a smile.

  He caught her hand and on impulse pulled her down on his lap. "As you wish."

  When she tugged her hands, he let go, worried that he'd gone too far. Right now their friendship was thin glass over a turbulent sea.

  But she didn't look angry, and she didn't get off his lap. For a moment she just sat and smiled, holding her bank statement as if it were gold. "Thank you," she finally said. "I'll be careful with my rainy day money. It means a lot that I won't have to worry about the men being paid. I even had to sell the furniture upstairs to make payroll once."

  Then, to his total surprise, she leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek as he had her the night before. One light, friendly kiss.

  CHAPTER 10

  After samantha left. Lacy and Walker spent the day working. Eli, Lacy's third employee, didn't come in because of the cold, so the captain took his place. Having grown up around a printing press, Walker knew each job as well or better than Lacy. She was surprised at the amount of work they got done. For the first time she understood how Walker's father, as a young man, could have run the place himself. Without three employees, and with new machines, his income would have supported a family. Walker said whenever his dad ran short on time, he drafted the sons to pitch in. Emory became an expert at disappearing, but Walker admitted that he never minded helping.

  As they worked, Lacy filled him in on all that had happened in the town since she'd arrived while Walker talked about the past when Cedar Point had only been half the size.

  Old Duncan even departed from his normally gloomy state and hummed out of tune now and then. Jay Boy asked Walker one question after another about the army and campaigns he'd fought. To her surprise, Walker tried hard to paint an accurate picture of army life, not blowing it up into dreams of glory as many men might have been tempted to do. When he told the boy that, more often than not, he had to do his own laundry, the army lost its appeal to Jay Boy.

  The sheriff dropped by again in the afternoon and insisted on accompanying them to the mercantile. He stood in the front of the store and whispered to Walker while Lacy shopped.

  At first, she was at a loss for what to buy. She needed everything and had never truly looked around the store for fear she'd start dreaming of things she couldn't afford. Finally, she decided she'd buy five items. Then tomorrow, if she wanted, she'd buy five more. In a strange way, she needed time to enjoy each.

  She bought a thread box with twenty different colors of thread on big wooden spools, seven yards of wool for a new dress, white lace for the trim, a wonderful coat of navy blue, and two extra buckets for her kitchen.

  If Walker thought the purchases strange, he didn't comment. He bought a few thin cigars and a pound of coffee while Riley helped with the packages. Both men seemed in a hurry to get back to the print shop. Lacy thought it might just be that they hated shopping or worse, visiting with every woman who wandered into the place.

  Then she noticed the long row of windows across the front of the store and guessed why they were on edge.

  When she asked, both were a little too quick to reassure her nothing was wrong.

  As they walked back, Walker asked, "Is old Mitchell, the lawyer, still around?"

  "Sure," Riley answered. "He only goes into the office about once a week, and the paperwork keeps piling up there, but his shingle is still out."

  "If you could stay with Lacy for a few minutes, I'd like to drop by and see him."

  Riley nodded as Walker left them. "Didn't know him and the old man were so close," Riley said more to himself than Lacy. "Mitchell's a good guy. Hope if we ever get another lawyer in town he's half the man."

  Lacy didn't comment, but she tried to guess why Walker felt he needed to see Mitchell. All she could come up with was that somehow Samantha must have said something. Or maybe Walker simply had a question about the law; he seemed to be studying up on it.

  That evening, Lacy wore her new wool coat and her boots and gloves. She'd never felt so warm and happy in her life. She debated telling Walker that she now owned her first new coat. All the others before had been hand-me- downs or bought secondhand.

  But she didn't tell him. She wanted nothing to interfere with the night. After dressing carefully, she found him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He'd taken the time to brush his jacket and comb his hair. They could almost be a regular married couple stepping out for dinner, except for the pistol strapped at his waist and the way his eyes watched the darkened corners.

  Lacy thought of how Samantha had called her plain and knew she'd never be the kind of beauty that turned men's heads, but just for the evening she wanted to believe that she fit with her captain. In the back of her mind she knew a tall blonde belonged on his arm and not a short brunette, but she could pretend, if only for an hour.

  So she smiled as she came down the stairs, and he stared up at her in a way he'd never look at Samantha. He looked like he really saw her.

  When they reached the end of the shop's porch, she hesitated, not wanting to step into the slush in her new boots.

  Without a word, Walker lifted her gently in his arms and carried her across the street to the hotel as he'd done the night before in the snow. His hold was secure, and solid as before, only tonight, he talked to her as they walked, comfortable with her so near after working with her most of the afternoon.

  Over dinner they talked about Jay Boy and Duncan, who started working at the paper when Walker's father's hands began to curl and knot. She told him of the time they'd worked all night to print handbills for a cattle drive that needed men immediately.

  She told him of stories his father told, stories he swore he'd never heard before. Accounts of the early days when an editor worked with his gun handy because anyone who didn't like the news might stop by to argue. Walker said times hadn't changed much elsewhere, but in
Cedar Point most of those that might cause trouble had moved on to wilder towns like Tascosa and Mobeetie.

  Lacy hardly noticed the other people in the little hotel restaurant. Mrs. Stauffer had put a cloth over their table and placed a small sign that said Reserved beside the salt. The small action made Lacy feel special.

  They had their choice of day-old chicken pie or pork chops covered in applesauce. Dessert was cobbler made from canned peaches that Mrs. Stauffer reminded Lacy were from the McKoy trees. From Kansas City to Fort Worth, McKoy peaches were known as the finest.

  When Lacy folded her napkin out to save the last of her pork chop, Walker covered her hand with his.

  "Stop," he whispered. "If you're going to do this every night, you might as well do it right." He pulled a small leather pouch from his coat pocket. "I picked this up while you were trying on coats. It'll keep your handbag from getting greasy."

  "Thanks." She accepted the gift. "You don't mind that I save the last few bites? I'm guessing it's not the proper thing to do when eating out."

  "I don't mind. Everyone knows you love those cats."

  Lacy drank her hot tea laced with honey and milk. She nibbled on her cobbler while the captain finished off his, then switched bowls.

  When she protested, he winked and said, "Everyone knows how much I love cobbler."

  She watched her very proper captain and decided he wasn't made of stone after all. Though she had reminded him several times during the day that her employees weren't his troops, he took it good-naturedly. And he might look relaxed eating, but she hadn't missed the way he'd removed his pistol belt and put it over the chair within easy reach. He'd also made sure he sat so he could see both doors. She knew Walker worried and couldn't help but think Riley must have told her husband more than he told her about Whitaker. They weren't a couple just enjoying the evening; he was a man doing his job, his duty. Nothing more.

  No matter how much he'd hated having to come home, he seemed to make the best of it and to his credit had tried to make their time together bearable. She appreciated his effort and wondered if over the years he hadn't had to make the best of many trying situations.

  He wasn't the monster she thought him after she'd visited him that first time. But she wouldn't be fooled into believing he would ever be truly a husband, either. He was a man who needed his space and an order to his life only the army could provide. She must never allow herself to forget that he was here, against his will, to do a job. In three weeks he'd leave, and life would go back to being as it had been before he came.

  She could enjoy the dinner and dream that it was real between them, but she couldn't afford to play the fool again.

  Zeb Whitaker was still out there. Once in a while Lacy caught herself holding her breath, waiting. Even though it had been five years, she still recalled the way he smelled ... the way his beefy hands grabbed her ... how he'd slapped her so hard she'd been afraid to scream.

  But with Walker near, she felt safe tonight. She'd worry about the tomorrows after he'd gone.

  The sheriff joined them for a second cup of coffee. He couldn't seem to stop grinning at them and mentioned several times that he was real glad they weren't threatening to kill one another anymore.

  He told Walker he'd talked to half the men in town. No one the size of Whitaker would ride in unnoticed again. Even the men in town who didn't know Miss Lacy very well seemed determined to help protect her. In five years she'd become one of them.

  While the sheriff spoke to Walker, Lacy swirled the few leaves in her teacup. When she'd been very young, she remembered her mother and grandmother staring into their cups. Lacy couldn't help but wonder if they saw more than she did. They'd talk of the future as if it were looking back at them from the cup.

  "Playing fortune-teller, tonight?" the sheriff interrupted her thoughts.

  "No." She smiled. "And hush, I haven't told my husband I'm a witch yet."

  The old man laughed. "More angel than witch, my dear. All the things you do around here for folks. I know those quilts didn't just appear in my jail cells."

  Lacy laughed. "Maybe it was just magic."

  "Which reminds me, when are you going to mix me up a love potion to use on Mrs. Abernathy? She's been cooking my breakfast for so many years that I can't think of retiring until she agrees to marry me and cook those biscuits every morning."

  Lacy laughed. "You couldn't marry her. She told me she doesn't even like you and only cooks for the money. So, don't go getting any ideas."

  "She's just playing hard to get, that's all."

  "Doing a pretty fair job of it," Lacy mumbled.

  "But, I'm in love with those biscuits."

  Lacy shook her head. "Don't you have a wife somewhere back East?"

  Riley shook his head. "I wrote her after I'd been settled here about four years saying I missed her and asking her to join me. She wrote back saying she's still waiting for me to come to my senses and ride back home, and that we've had three more daughters since I've been gone.

  Seems even with me in Texas, she's still delivering every spring."

  "So you've set your eye on Widow Abernathy?" Walker tried to hold down a laugh. "Even if she's not fond of you."

  "How could she not like me?" Riley smoothed his few strands of hair back as if proving his point. "Women don't know what they want sometimes. They get mixed up and think that somehow living alone is better than living with a man."

  "You don't know women very well, do you, Sheriff?" Lacy giggled.

  "I know she'd like me if she got a good look. How could she not?"

  "It puzzles me," Lacy answered with a straight face. "The woman must be blind to pass up a fine-looking man like you."

  "That's what I think. Maybe I should have her see the doctor. Once she gets glasses, she'll change her mind."

  Lacy pretended to consider the possibility. "Why don't you ask her next time she brings breakfast? Doc McClellan hasn't been all that busy of late. He could probably use the business."

  Riley nodded and stood to leave. "I'll do that." He shook Walker's hand. "Keep an eye on our Lacy," he added, as if she belonged to the town.

  Walker finished his coffee without speaking, but the silence that lay between them didn't seem uncomfortable. When he rose, Lacy let him help her on with her coat and they bade Mr. Stauffer good night.

  Without a word, he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the street, staying in the shadows. He stood between her and the street as she unlocked the door. She felt the warmth of him just behind her.

  They walked in darkness through the shop and were halfway up the stairs when he touched her arm and stopped her progress.

  Lacy turned on the step ahead of him. Her eyes were level with his, but she saw only the outline of his face in the shadows. "What is it? Is something wrong?" Fear danced along her spine.

  "No. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to say something before we get upstairs." He stood so close she felt his words brushed her face.

  "All right."

  "I'm thinking of kissing you good night, but if I do so at your bedroom door, you may fear I'm planning an advance. So I thought it proper to mention it ahead of time so you wouldn't think I had further intentions."

  Lacy smiled. "And you don't?"

  "No." He straightened. "I plan to leave in twenty-one days as we agreed."

  "Then why kiss me?" A moment before, she would have welcomed a kiss to the end of their evening, but now, after knowing he'd analyzed it like a battle plan, the idea didn't seem so appealing. His need to qualify a simple kiss stung her pride. Just because she'd objected to being grabbed and held wrapped in a quilt when she'd been frightened didn't mean she wouldn't consider a simple kiss or any other slight show of caring. It would have been nice to have a few such memories, but not if the captain thought they had to be planned out.

  "I just didn't want you to be frightened again if I came too near, or start jumping to conclusions." He would have had to have been a dead man not to sense the stif
fening of her body. "I didn't want you to think I might stay, that I might want to be ..."

  "... a real husband?" Lacy snapped, angry that they were even having the discussion. How many times did he think he had to tell her that he didn't want to be her husband?

  She straightened, wishing she were taller so she could look down on him. "What makes you think I want a husband anymore, Captain? Or maybe you think because we've been civil to one another today, that I'll drag you in if you kiss me too close to the bedroom door. After all, I've forced you to my bed once before."

  Walker let out a long breath. "I only sought to be polite, not have an argument with you." His cold, impersonal manner had returned.

  "What made you think you wanted to kiss me anyway?" Since she'd never been kissed, Lacy's anger molded into curiosity.

  "Hell if I know," he answered.

  "Maybe it's some kind of affliction you have. Maybe you should go with Mrs. Abemathy to the doctor."

  "There's nothing wrong with my sight."

  "Then it must be your hearing, because I made it plain we would try to be friends, not lovers."

  She stormed up the last half of the stairs and went into the apartment.

  "I swear," he yelled from just behind her. "Anger fires in you like gunpower. I was just trying to make you aware of a simple plan of action."

  He followed her all the way to the kitchen and stood watching as she picked up the tablet without removing her gloves and tore out the page with the number twenty-one written on it.

  "Less than three weeks before this tour of duty is over," she announced. "Good night, Captain."

  Walker didn't move as she stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. A few minutes later she returned in her nightgown. He noticed that she'd missed several buttons on her gown, leaving the collar to gape open at her throat.

  The last thing he intended to do was mention the fact or say one word about how he could see the outline of her body as she stood between the lamp and him.

  She retrieved the old Colt from where he'd left it on the table and walked back to her door.