A Texan's Luck

by Jodi Thomas

  "I'm glad you're back," she answered with a yawn. "Good night."

  He rolled to face her. "Lacy, what is it you want?" He had to know where he stood. He wasn't sure he could survive their days in these quarters if he didn't know the rules. He also knew fort life well enough that if he slept anywhere but here, everyone on the place would know it by morning.

  She opened sleepy eyes and looked at him, as if considering going back to sleep and not playing his game. Finally, she said, "I don't want to be afraid anymore. I'm not brave like Bailee and Sarah. I try to act like I am, but I guess you've already figured out that I'm not."

  An exhausted sigh escaped her. "I'm tired of fearing shadows."

  Walker opened his arm and she cuddled beneath it. "Do you feel safe now?" he whispered into her hair. Dear God, but she smelled good.

  "Yes, thank you."

  "I'm glad, but I meant to ask what you want from me?"

  "I don't want—"

  "I didn't ask what you don't want," he replied, then cringed realizing she'd probably list that she didn't want him to yell at her anymore. 'Tell me what you want from me other than to feel safe."

  She didn't move, and for a while he wasn't sure she planned to answer. Then she laid her hand over his heart.

  He covered her fingers with his and waited. The fire crackled low now, setting the room in a golden glow. He felt her warm and soft against his side, but her fingers were cold.

  Finally, she whispered. "I want you to make everything go away except the two of us. I don't want to think or worry about anything—not the army, or Whitaker, or even what's happened before between us." She brushed her fingers over his chest as if dusting off his heart. "I want to know the man with this heartbeat."

  Of all the things she could have requested, he never expected that. She asked the impossible.

  He tried to think of how to tell her no ... that he wasn't brave enough to open his heart again. He'd never survive another blow. Before he could think of the right words, she did the strangest thing. She rose up a few inches and leaned over him until her lips touched his.

  Her kiss wasn't light, or playful, but filled with purpose. She kissed him as she'd learned to, just as he liked to be kissed.

  When she finished, she didn't pull away but whispered against his cheek. "Make there be no more world but this bed, Captain. A neutral ground where there is no fear and no orders to follow. Hold me while we sleep as if we were the only two people alive."

  He dug his hand into her hair and held her head as he rolled, pinning her against the pillows. "I'll try, Lacy. Dear God, I'll try."

  He kissed her then, deeper than he ever had. The taste of her flowed like a drug through his veins. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might explode. She stretched beneath him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

  And as she kissed him back, the impossible happened. All the world melted away.

  CHAPTER 22

  Lacy slept on Walker's shoulder feeling warm and protected all night. He made no advances beyond a few passionate kisses, and she didn't understand why. She knew he wanted more from her. She could see a hunger in his eyes, but for some reason he held himself in check.

  Now that she'd discovered what it could be like between a man and a woman, she would have welcomed another lesson, but she'd not try to talk him into more, or trick him. She'd done that once before and hated herself for it. He might be attracted to her, but that didn't mean he wanted a wife any more than he had when she demanded he take her to his bed two years ago.

  When she sat up and pushed the covers away, he was gone. For a moment, she wondered if she'd dreamed him lying down beside her during the night. For so many years she'd thought about what it would be like to have a husband at her side. There had been a few lonely nights when she'd talked to him as if he were beside her in the darkness of her little apartment. She'd say "Good night" out loud, knowing there would be no answer.

  No, he'd been there. They'd talked last night and touched. She could still almost feel his hand resting just below her waist on her hip as he slept. Over and over in sleep he'd tightened his hold around her as though fearing that she might slip away before he woke.

  She liked the warmth of his hand touching her and would have told him so if she could have found the words. She liked hearing his steady breathing and the way he pulled the covers over her when she rolled over. He protected her like he thought she might vanish at any moment if he didn't stand guard.

  But in the end, it had been he who slipped away without waking her.

  She glanced around the neat little room. His civilian clothes hung over a chair near the fire. His saddlebags were folded by the washstand.

  Lacy relaxed. He was still near. He hadn't abandoned her in this strange place. She tiptoed to the high window and opened the shutter.

  Blinding sunlight greeted her. She blinked. For a moment Walker seemed to be everywhere. On guard, riding a horse near the corral, walking by the flagpole. Then she realized all the men were in uniform, and they all looked very much alike. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light, she eliminated most of the men. Slightly too short, not enough hair, too fat, too thin.

  A knock sounded at her door. "Mrs. Larson?" someone shouted.

  Lacy jumped back from the window, not sure what to do, but since she stood in her gown, she said, "Yes?" rather than asking whoever it was to come in.

  "I've been instructed to bring you breakfast in ten minutes. Will that be acceptable?"

  "Yes." She almost laughed. She'd landed on another shore where they all spoke Walker's language. All proper and stiff.

  Lacy scrambled into her clothes and managed to straighten the bed before the knock came again, exactly ten minutes later.

  "Come in." She stood straight, waiting.

  A soldier entered, his head down as he walked to the table and left a tray of food. He didn't look to be much older than Jay Boy, but he wore a uniform.

  "Thank you," she said.

  He smiled briefly. "You're welcome, Mrs. Larson. Will there be anything else?"

  "No, thank you." She wanted to ask if he'd seen her husband, but she wasn't sure that would be proper.

  The young soldier backed out of the room and closed the door.

  With one smell of the food, Lacy realized she was starving. She pulled a chair close to the table and uncovered a breakfast that would have fed a family. Before she could take a bite, the door opened again. She didn't have to look up. She recognized her husband's stomp.

  He marched across the room, retrieved his saddlebags, then walked to stand on the other side of her table. Impatient, he set the bags down with a thud.

  Lacy glanced up from her food, noticing the captain was back in all his proper uniform and his frozen features. "Good morning," she said, remembering the man who'd taken slow pleasure in kissing her fingers the night before.

  "More correctly, good afternoon."

  She didn't argue. "All right, good afternoon." His uniform had changed to that of a soldier without any rank, and she wondered if he'd borrowed it. "What time do we leave for home?"

  Widening his stance, he clasped his hands behind him. She wasn't sure if he planned to address the troops or brace for a blow. "We'll have to delay. I've orders to accompany a prisoner south. I'll return in a few days."

  Lacy was up and moving toward him. "You can't leave me here for days. Tum down the order. I can be ready before you can saddle Trooper. We can leave now. I have to get back and make sure Nell is all right. I have the paper—"

  He picked up his saddlebags as if she'd finished talking. "You'll be safe, just stay within the walls. I've sent the telegram to Riley. Everyone will know you're safe with me. As for Nell, I'm sure she's in good hands."

  "I'm not staying. I want to go home."

  "That's impossible." His words hit like ice water on her face.

  She swung at him in pure frustration, but he caught her hand and put it behind her as he pulled her near with a
powerful hold.

  Struggling, she pushed against him with her free hand. She saw the crack in his armor and stopped. She might be angry, but he seemed to be enjoying her temper. She had no intention of allowing him the satisfaction of thinking she played some kind of game of power with him.

  'Turn me loose."

  He did at once.

  She didn't step away, letting him know that she might be angry, but she was not afraid of him.

  Smiling down at her, he understood her silent message and whispered, "Lacy, I have to go."

  He placed his hand gently on her waist, then spread his fingers across her back and down to her hip.

  She met his gaze and knew he was remembering the night.

  "Should I step away?" he smiled, reading her pleasure.

  "No," she said as his hand moved up her back and then low once more. She wished she could find the words to tell him how she felt when his hands moved gently over her.

  His hands traveled up once more, molding lightly against the sides of her breasts as he kissed her softly, then whispered, "I can't explain now, Lacy. There's not time. But you have to trust me. Promise me you'll be here when

  I get back." He tilted her head up as he moved a few inches away. "I have to know you'll be here when I return."

  She moved from his touch.

  Turning toward the fire, she said, "So, I'm a prisoner here."

  "You're my wife." His words suddenly had an edge of anger to them.

  She picked up the tablet and ripped out another page. "I'm a prisoner for thirteen more days and then no more."

  "If that's the way you want it." His words grew cold. "But I want your promise that you'll be here when I return."

  "You have it, Captain." She felt like she talked to a stranger once more. Where had the man gone who held her so close last night?

  Without a word, he walked out of the room and closed the door. She rushed to the window and watched him swing up on Trooper. Five men waited for him at the gate. They rode out of sight. He didn't look back.

  Lacy straightened, refusing to cry for him. Just about the time she thought he was human, he proved her wrong. Whatever he had to do was more important than her. He'd seen to her safety, then he'd left her here, his duty completed.

  She ate breakfast alone and then unpacked her things in the dresser and shoved her carpetbag under the bed. She paced for a while, then got out the new wool and thread. Sewing always calmed her, but today her hands seemed clumsy as she tried to piece together why he'd left so suddenly. Had he allowed her too close last night? Was he afraid he might become a man and not just a soldier if he lay beside her one more night? His departure didn't make sense. Maybe it was as he said, simply an order, nothing more. And there for a moment, before he'd issued his last orders, she'd almost thought he wanted her.

  She tried to recall the conversation Walker had with the major the evening before. She'd been tired, and at some point it almost seemed as if they'd been talking in some kind of code.

  The sergeant interrupted her hours later to ask if she would take tea with the major's wife. Lacy had a feeling it was more an order than a request and thought of turning it down, but in truth she needed to leave the tiny room for her own sanity. If she couldn't go home or depart the fort, at least she could explore the workings of such a place. She'd probably never be inside another one.

  The major's wife looked nothing like Lacy expected. She was as short and plump as the major was tall and lean. Her hair had streaks of silver in it, and tiny spectacles, just like Lacy's reading glasses, sat on her nose. She seemed genuinely glad to have company.

  Lacy silently thanked Bailee for the lessons in how to have tea as she sat down. Marianne Garner's kindness quickly made Lacy comfortable.

  "You know," she said after the tea tray was removed, "your husband is a legend on the frontier line. My husband would love to have him here at Fort Elliot."

  Lacy had no idea what the woman was talking about. Walker had never mentioned anything about his life in the army. If he were known for anything, she felt sure it would be for following every rule.

  Marianne leaned over and patted Lacy's arm. "It would be wonderful having you here. I don't see many wives, and men like your husband are rare." As if sensing Lacy's discomfort, she changed the subject. "One of the many things I love about life in the army is how quickly we wives bond like family. Maybe it's the close quarters, or the worry over our men, but you'd be welcomed here, my dear."

  Lacy couldn't help but wonder what another one of the "things" could be that the major's wife loved. She'd bet Marianne's list of likes wasn't as long as the list of hates Lacy thought about. But it wouldn't have been polite to debate the woman.

  They talked of canning and travels, of families and friends, and eventually of quilting. There they found a match. Marianne showed Lacy a trunk full of quilt tops

  and pieces, clarifying that she lacked skill in the final step.

  Lacy laughed, explaining how the last stage of quilting could be the most fun. When she offered to help put a quilt together, the major's wife seemed delighted. Within minutes they both sat on the floor trying to pick the first top to become a real quilt.

  Marianne called Hayes in, and Lacy explained what she'd need to build a simple frame. The women agreed they'd start after breakfast tomorrow and quilt all the next day.

  As Hayes walked her back to her quarters, Lacy realized how excited she was at the thought of finishing one of Marianne's quilts. She'd never had anyone to work with. Sewing had always been something she'd done alone.

  She ate her dinner in her room and wondered where Walker slept tonight. Though the major's wife had been chatty about everything else, she didn't say a word about where Walker went.

  The major had stepped in to say hello just before Lacy left. She thought she saw worry in his gaze as he forced a smile and bade her good day before she could ask any questions about Walker. That was another thing she hated, Lacy thought; she hated not even knowing which questions to ask.

  Now, sitting alone in her little room, Lacy's thoughts turned to Nell. Walker had been right when he said she was in the best of care; Bailee always seemed to have everything organized. The ranger was probably camped out on their doorstep in case he was needed, and if she knew the doctor, he'd be out making a call every morning until he knew Nell was out of danger.

  But Lacy wanted to be there. Somehow Nell's troubles were partly her fault. She wasn't sure how, but if Nell hadn't known Lacy, she would not be fighting for her life right now.

  Lacy tried pacing, then sewing on her wool dress, but nothing helped. Finally, she curled into bed and wished

  Walker lay beside her. "Good night," she said aloud. "Wherever you are."

  The next morning she overslept and had to dress quickly. She wasn't surprised to find the sergeant waiting for her when she stepped out of her quarters.

  "Mrs. Garner has decided to set the frame up in one of the empty single officer's quarters so the quilt will be a surprise for the major." Hayes walked her two doors down to an open doorway. "Though not much happens around here that he's not fully aware of."

  Lacy glanced at Hayes, trying to figure out if he were simply talking or issuing some kind of warning. Her years of collecting the news had made her develop an ear for what people sometimes didn't say.

  Hayes didn't meet her eyes as he ushered her inside.

  There stood a quilting frame rigged together by rope and boards in a room exactly like her own. Four women and Mrs. Gamer were having tea by the fireplace and waiting to start. The major's wife introduced each woman by name and by her husband's rank.

  Millie and Grace were both young lieutenants' wives. They were shy and looked to be away from home for the first time. Millie said she'd helped with quilting before, but Grace admitted she'd never even tried.

  The other two women were older by ten years. January's husband was a captain like Walker. She said they'd even served together a few times along the fort line, but
she couldn't remember ever meeting the mysterious Captain Larson.

  Lacy let the odd comment pass and turned to the last woman in the group.

  Theda, a thin woman of about thirty, was January's sister and had come to stay through her sister's pregnancy, which judging from January's girth wouldn't be much longer.

  Since the others knew one another, conversation flowed as they set to work. Marianne acted as mother hen over the group and called Hayes to run so many errands that the others giggled every time she yelled the sergeant's name.

  Lacy could never remember having so much fun. She explained steps and found most of the ladies already knew the basics but loved learning new stitches that slowly sewed the layers of material together. Grace's stitches were big, almost childlike in skill, but Lacy found it easy to cross over the area Grace thought she had finished and lace tiny stitches in between her huge ones without the girl noticing what she was doing.

  By the time they'd turned the quilt on the board twice, there was more room in the quarters, and Grace had learned enough so that her work looked smooth and even.

  By noon they were all laughing and joking as they sewed. Though Grace was shy, Millie loved to talk once she warmed up to everyone and told them all about being courted by her husband.

  When she took a break to breathe, Marianne asked, "How did you meet your Walker, Lacy?"

  For a moment Lacy acted like she pulled a knot out of her thread and tried her best to be casual. "I met him in a little town called Cottonwood."

  "Was it love at first sight?" Millie batted her eyes.

  "No, in truth, I fell in love with his letters first." She'd almost forgotten those days when she'd been fifteen and read his letters to his father, never dreaming the man who wrote would be nothing like the soldier she met. "He has a way of writing that almost makes you believe you're with him." For the first time in two years Lacy wished she hadn't thrown the letters away the day she rode back from Cottonwood.

  "That's so romantic," Millie chimed in, having no idea of the real story.

  Hayes delivered a tray of sandwiches. None of them wanted to stop long enough to eat. The cold winter day outside seemed far away as they worked and talked.