A Texan's Luck

by Jodi Thomas

  Lacy wrote most of the stories, though Jay Boy loved to help when he had time. Eli did the ads. Not that there was much in the way of stories in Cedar Point. The weather was always important, weddings, funerals, and sometimes arrests. If any other news happened, Sheriff Riley or Willard the mercantile owner usually told everyone in town before Lacy could get it in print.

  Late Wednesday afternoon, Walker tried to talk her out of going to the station for the paper, but that had been her job since the first week she'd married. Walker's father had started teaching her the books the first morning they'd worked together, and part of the accounts included logging expenses. "This will be your responsibility soon, Lacy," the old man had said. "You have much to learn, but don't worry. I won't leave you until you know it all."

  And he hadn't, Lacy thought. Even in the end when he took opium for the pain, he'd hold on as long as he could so they had time to talk. Then he'd swallow his medicine and float into a half-dream, half-dead state for several hours.

  After more than two years, she still missed him dearly. She missed the way they'd talk for hours and how his crippled hand would pat hers and tell her she was a great treasure.

  "My son is going to love you," he'd say, "like you got a right to be loved, Lacy." Then he'd fall asleep, and she'd dream about when her invisible husband came home and made his father's promise true.

  The wind whipped cold and dry as she stood on the platform and pushed away the past along with a tear from her cheek. Why couldn't Walker have inherited an ounce of his father's kindness?

  As the train pulled in, Walker leaned closer. "Stay behind me," he ordered without a hint of request in his tone.

  Lacy nodded, but she couldn't resist leaning around him until she could see the train. An excitement rippled across the platform when the train pulled in. People going on trips. Folks coming home. The smoke and the noise. Like many in town, Lacy came sometimes just to watch it arrive.

  She looked down the row of cars as passengers stepped off even as the train chugged to a stop. A tall young woman dressed in forest green swung from the steps with grace and yelled, "Lacy!"

  Before Walker's arm could stop her, Lacy ran to meet the girl. "Nell!" she cried with pure joy.

  They hugged, pulled apart to smile at one another, then hugged again. "It's been so long." Lacy laughed. "We weren't expecting you for at least another month."

  "I know, but I couldn't wait. I've so much news I had to—" Nell stopped suddenly. "Lacy, there's a man standing just behind you staring at us."

  Lacy didn't turn around. "Is he wearing a uniform and a frown?"

  Nell whispered, 'Tall, handsome, dark hair, big frown."

  "Oh, don't worry about him. That's just my husband."

  Before Nell could question her, Lacy stepped back and said, "Captain Larson, I'd like you to meet Miss Nell Desire, a dear friend of mine."

  "Oh, Lacy, it's not Desire anymore. I'm almost of age now, and I need a more respectable name." The tall girl offered her hand to Walker. "Some of my friends call me Two Bits, but Lacy and Bailee insist on calling me Nell. I haven't decided on my last name yet." She laughed as if guessing she made little sense to Walker and not caring in the least. "When Fat Alice sent me off to school four years ago, she registered me as Smith. Imagine that, just plain Smith. But—"

  "Pardon me, Miss Nell," Walker interrupted. "But I need to get my wife off this platform as fast as possible. Might you continue the discussion elsewhere?"

  Nell grabbed her bag as the engineer handed Lacy her pages.

  "See you next week, Miss Lacy." He tipped his hat.

  "Thank you, Philip."

  Walker took the papers and motioned with his head toward the waiting buggy he'd insisted Lacy use instead of walking as she always did. "We need to be on our way, ladies."

  Nell locked arms with Lacy. "Is he always so bossy?" she whispered.

  Lacy glanced at Walker. From his raised eyebrow, she knew he'd heard. "I'm afraid so. But he'll be gone in nineteen days."

  "That bad," Nell said a little louder. "Counting the days?"

  Lacy didn't answer. She didn't have to. Her friend understood.

  That night Nell joined them for dinner at the hotel. She kept Lacy laughing with her tales of school. It seemed the fine finishing school Fat Alice sent her to was not quite prepared for a girl who grew up in a whorehouse.

  Lacy thought Nell appeared so grand in her proper dress, with her proper manners. But she remembered the little Two Bits who befriended Carter years ago. Lacy had sworn to be the little girl's friend forever, but to the Mc- Koys, Nell had become family.

  "When are you heading out to Carter and Bailee's place?" Lacy asked Nell over pie.

  "First thing in the morning," Nell answered. "I was kind of hoping to see my ranger tonight if he's in town. It's been six months since I've had a letter from him. The man still can't get the idea that he belongs to me. He still thinks of me as a kid."

  Lacy sighed. "He's not here, Nell. As far as I know, not even Sheriff Riley's heard from him for a few months." Ranger Jacob Dalton had put Zeb Whitaker in jail twice over the years. Lacy kind of wished he'd do it again. "If he knew Whitaker was out, I have a feeling he'd be headed this direction."

  Nell patted Lacy's hand. "Don't you worry about Whitaker. He's probably too old to sit a horse by now. And I sent wires to Jacob to let him know what's happening. It may take a while for it to bounce around and find him, but he'll come as soon as he gets it."

  Lacy tried not to appear worried. She didn't want to frighten Nell. "We think Whitaker shot out the windows of the print shop last week. Or maybe he just hired someone, thinking he'd scare me. Riley said he heard that the entire time he was in prison, Whitaker swore he'd get back the money we stole from him."

  Nell glanced at Walker, who'd been silent while they talked. "Were the shots fired at Lacy, or just the shop?"

  Walker shrugged. "I'm not sure." He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, suddenly interested in the conversation. "Why?"

  Nell hesitated, not wanting to voice her fears.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked.

  "I was only a child, but I remember Whitaker coming to Fat Alice's place. This was before Lacy and Bailee clubbed him and thought they'd murdered him. He was nothing but trouble, left more than one of the girls beat up. Finally, Alice met him at the door with a gun and told him if she ever saw him again, she'd kill him on sight."

  Nell shifted in her chair. "We didn't see him after that, but we still heard stories. If he thinks the three of you have his money, he might kill one of you to get the other two to give it up." She stared directly at Walker. "Lacy's right out in the open."

  "I'm well aware of that," Walker said with the icy coldness of a soldier on duty. "Riley thinks she should go to someone named Sarah's place. Carter wants her to come to his farm, but she won't budge."

  "This is my home," Lacy answered, knowing they wouldn't understand. She loved her home. She wouldn't just pick up and leave because Zeb Whitaker might be after her.

  Nell leaned closer. "But Lacy, don't you see? You're the easiest for him to come after."

  Lacy frowned. She really didn't need another person telling her the same thing. "Don't worry about me. I've got Captain Larson to protect me for nineteen more days and, who knows, so many people hate Zeb Whitaker, someone might shoot him by then. Or your ranger might be back to protect us." Lacy pushed her worries aside. "That is if he's not running from you." Everyone knew Nell had been crazy about the ranger since she was a child. She called him "my ranger," like the state of Texas had given him to her one Christmas.

  "He can run, but Jacob Dalton can't hide. I'll catch up with him one of these days and make him marry me. I made him promise that he'd wait for me to grow up."

  Walker leaned back in his chair as if the conversation had taken a turn that no longer interested him.

  "Or maybe .. ." Nell winked at Lacy. "I'll just sleep with him and drive him mad with desire for me." She s
miled innocently at Walker, as if the words she'd just said couldn't have come out of her mouth. "But if I do," she whispered to Lacy, "I'm making him pay the going rate."

  Laughing, Lacy watched Walker try not to choke on his coffee. She'd long ago grown used to Nell and her talk. Her husband remained silent all evening, acting more as guard than host. He was polite but distant.

  Lacy asked Nell to stay with her, but the young girl refused. She complained of living in a dorm all fall and longed to be alone for a few hours. She did ask to borrow

  Lacy's buggy and Dancer for a few days, planning to leave at dawn for the McKoy place.

  Big silent Carter and a little girl everyone called Two Bits had sworn to be friends forever. Nell had kept her promise, as had he. Whenever she returned home, her first stop was always to Carter and Bailee's farm.

  And if she were part of Bailee's family, Nell was also part of Lacy's. The little homeless girl who grew up in a house by the tracks had three adopted sisters. And they were all three in danger at the moment.

  Nell gripped Lacy's hand. "Don't worry," she said. "Old Whitaker's not going to get to you."

  Lacy tried to be braver than she felt. "That's right." She glanced at Walker. "The captain won't let him."

  The corner of Walker's mouth lifted briefly as he gave a half salute.

  The women said good-bye in the lobby. Walker offered his arm, and Lacy walked silently beside him. Any other time she would go with Nell to visit Carter and Bailee, but Walker wouldn't discuss the possibility. He didn't understand how dear Bailee was to Lacy. He'd probably never felt so close to anyone in his life.

  Lacy decided being with Walker was lonelier than being alone. She'd given up hating him. She'd even stopped disliking him. Somehow over the past few days of his eternal politeness mixed with constant orders, she realized she felt nothing for him. He was a man without feeling, and he didn't deserve to be hated any more than an object did. He left home at seventeen, joined the army, and became a machine. He had no more heart than the printing press.

  "Would you like me to carry you?" he asked, startling her from her thoughts.

  "No, the ground is dry enough for me to walk without getting muddy."

  They climbed the steps, remaining silent while he unlocked the apartment door. He stepped back, allowing her to enter, then followed her into the kitchen. As she had the nights before, Lacy tore a page from her tablet and dropped the number nineteen into the stove.

  Walker watched her. "Am I really so intolerable?"

  She looked up, surprised to find him staring at her. "I'm just used to having my time to myself."

  Crossing his arms, he leaned against the dooijamb. "How can I make this easier on you, Lacy?" For once he sounded like he meant his words.

  She smiled. "Eating out every night is nice. I've never had such a luxury."

  He nodded. "I look forward to it, too. The food is far better than army mess."

  Pressing her palm to her forehead, she tried to think of anything that might help the tension. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew he'd never hurt her, but having him forever near wore on her nerves. "Maybe if I knew you better, it would be easier to be friends."

  Walker nodded. "I'm willing to try if it would keep you from jumping every time I step within three feet of you."

  Lacy removed her coat and laid it over the back of her kitchen chair since he'd already used the only hook by the door. "We could start by having tea."

  He grinned. "We could start by having coffee."

  She put water on to boil. "How about one of each?"

  He got the cups down, and she pinched tea into her cup. As soon as the water boiled, she filled her teacup, then dropped coffee into the remaining water.

  She was halfway finished with her tea when the beans had boiled long enough for Walker to pour his coffee. He sat down across the tiny table from her and waited.

  "Where do we start?" She sipped, letting the hot liquid warm her. In an odd way she felt she'd missed their talk at dinner with Nell there. Now seemed like a good time.

  "I don't know." He leaned back in his chair. "We could set some ground rules, I guess, like we're playing a game."

  She agreed. A game would be nice; otherwise it might sound like an interrogation. "How about I ask one question, any question, and you have to answer. Then you're allowed one question, but only one, and I have to answer."

  "Fair enough. What subjects are off limits?"

  "None," she answered.

  "I accept the terms."

  Lacy wanted to giggle. Though he acted as if he were negotiating a treaty, maybe this would work. They'd get to know one another better at least. There was no reason they couldn't be friends. "All right, something easy."

  He waited.

  "What is your favorite time of year?"

  "Fall," he answered simply.

  "But why—"

  "Only one question. My turn."

  She agreed with a nod.

  "Why do you make quilts?"

  "That's easy. My mother and grandmother quilted when I was little. When I first started working with your father, there wasn't a great deal to do, so I'd piece together scraps on slow days at the shop. By the time he moved up here with me, I had several tops that needed to be quilted. He gave me half a closet full of old blankets to use as the stuffings." She realized she hadn't answered the question. "It's like painting for me. I feel like I'm creating something no one else has ever made."

  From his look she guessed she gave far more detail than needed. "My turn," she said. "Why did you join the army?"

  Lacy watched him drink his coffee and guessed he was thinking about whether to tell her the truth. Finally, he said, "I loved another man's wife."

  "Do you still?" That would explain so much. Why he didn't want to be married to her. Maybe if he couldn't have the woman he loved, he never wanted another for a wife. But how could he have loved another so young? He'd only been seventeen when he'd run away to join the army. Lacy frowned. This one question at a time thing wasn't going to work.

  'The next question is mine," he answered. "Do you like running the shop?"

  "Yes," Lacy answered simply. "Do you still love the other man's wife?"

  "No," he said too quickly for it to be a lie.

  They each took a drink. When he looked her straight in the eyes, she had the feeling they were no longer playing a game. "What happened the morning you met Zeb Whitaker?"

  Lacy was up and moving. She made it halfway across the main room before his words stopped her. "Lacy, stop flying from reality and answer me."

  "I don't want to."

  "You agreed. You're the one who set the rules."

  She couldn't bring herself to turn around. She didn't want to play the game anymore. Taking a long breath, she forced herself to calm. "All right. This mess has cost you a month of your life. I guess you've a right to know. Bailee, Sarah, and I were in a wagon heading south from Kansas. We'd been out of food for days when one morning a buffalo hunter came into our camp. He said he had to shoot his horse and wanted to buy our wagon. Bailee wouldn't sell. He reached in his saddlebags and produced a handful of gold, insisting that we agree. But it didn't matter how much money he had because if he took our wagon, we knew we'd be dead."

  She heard Walker's boots tap the floor and knew he moved closer, but she didn't budge.

  "When we wouldn't take his offer, he. decided to take our wagon anyway. Since we were all half starved, I don't think he thought of it as much of a crime. At the last minute, he said he wanted to take me with him," She fought to keep from choking on the words. "He ripped the front of my dress open to make sure I was woman enough to bother with." She fought back tears. Even after five years, the night was too horrible to talk about.

  "He slapped me until I was too scared to cry out and started dragging me to the wagon. He didn't even give me time to pull my clothes together. He was too busy talking about what he'd do to me every night on the trail and how he'd sell me once he got tire
d of feeding me.

  "All of a sudden, Bailee hit him with a board, and we thought she killed him. She started crying, so Sarah picked up the board and hit him, too. And then I did. I hit him as hard as I could, praying that I was the one who killed him."

  Lacy raised her chin. "We left him there, the gold from his saddlebags spilling out over his body, and made it to Cedar Point by the next night. We all confessed, and the sheriff told us we'd go to prison, but I didn't care. I would have killed him again if I'd had the chance."

  "But the sheriff told me there was no body." Walker filled in the details as he moved to stand behind her. "He couldn't charge you, and he couldn't let the three of you go because you'd confessed. He had to find a body and prove you were guilty, or find Whitaker to prove you were innocent."

  "But Zeb Whitaker had disappeared, it seemed. Riley couldn't stand to send us down state to a prison, and he couldn't afford to keep us here, so he charged us each a fine and married us off to anyone willing to pay it. I thought the nightmare would end, but Whitaker is coming after me again. He says he wants his gold, but I think he blames me for all his troubles. I think he hates me the most."

  Walker had never considered the cruelty of what had happened. He'd only been thinking of himself when his father telegrammed him that he was now married by proxy. Lacy had only been fifteen; she must have been frightened out of her mind. She must be terrified now.

  "Lacy," he whispered not knowing what to say.

  When she turned to face him, he opened his arms.

  Awkwardly, she moved into his embrace. While she cried against his chest, he held her close. "It's all right, now, Lacy. He'll never hurt you again."

  He held her until the tears stopped. She thanked him and disappeared into her bedroom, but it was a long time before Walker could sleep. In the five years since they'd been married, he'd never thought that Lacy might have been an innocent in what happened to her. At first he'd thought she'd manipulated his father; then, after she'd visited him, he'd thought that she was just a fool who must have gotten in with the wrong people. He felt more sorrow for her than anger.