by Diana Palmer
"Do you, indeed?" he asked. "What is it?"
She whispered to him, and he chuckled. "You won't mind, if I have to come out with it?" she added, worried.
"No," he said, surprising her. "But Ben will. So make it a last resort."
"Okay, boss," she said pertly.
"Tease me and I'll back you up against the wall again "he threatened. "And this time, I won't stop."
"In a houseful of people?" Her eyes kindled with humor. "You wouldn't dare."
"Yes, I would."
She didn't really believe him, but she moved quickly into the living room, just in case.
Marion was wringing her hands. It wasn't going well. Jessica was making her opinion of the ranch so obvious that people were beginning to murmur. Even Ben looked uncomfortable when Jessica began playing up to Turk and trying to get him to talk about the planes he'd shot down in the war.
Ben moved her to one side, nervous. "Don't do that, please," he asked, avoiding Turk's blazing eyes. "He and Cole never speak of France. You're asking for trouble. Turk isn't quite civilized even now, and my brother is a cougar when he's pushed."
"How exciting." She glanced toward the kitchen doorway, where
Lacy and Cole were briefly silhouetted. Cole was quite something. Jessica found herself actually envying Lacy. That man would be more than enough for any woman, and he'd wear the pants, not his wife. Ben was easily managed, almost childish. Coleman Whitehall would be his exact opposite, stubborn and masculine and very exciting.
"How long have they been married?" she asked, nodding toward Cole and Lacy. "Almost a year."
"Really?" Jessica laughed, with faint envy. "My, my. They act like newlyweds, don't they? She's rather docile and backward. You'd think he'd prefer a different kind of woman."
Lacy was Ben's Achille's heel. He didn't like having her described in those terms. He was getting nervous about the whole affair. He hadn't wanted to let Marion give him this party. Jessica tended to be abrasive, and she was every inch a snob. As much as Ben enjoyed her in bed, she was an embarrassment in public. If it weren't for the job, he wouldn't have let himself be coaxed into giving her that engagement ring at all.
His mind kept flying back to Faye, to poor little Faye who loved him, who would have died for him. So sweet, and so different from this cold-eyed woman who used her body like a weapon to extract what she wanted from men.
"Is Turk married?" Jessica was asking, her acquisitive eyes moving slowly over the blond ace as he stood alone at the punch table.
"No."
Jessica's pretty lips pursed. "What a waste. He has bedroom eyes. I'll bet he's built as well as you are, Ben."
He shifted uneasily. That wasn't the kind of thing a lady said. But, then, Jessica was no lady.
"Let's circulate," he said. "I see—"
He stopped dead and went pale as Faye Cameron came in the front door. She wasn't dressed for a party. She was wearing a simple gingham dress with a worn sweater over it. Her blond hair was disheveled and she'd been crying.
She went up to Ben, a scene he hadn't imagined in his worst nightmares, and stared at him.
"Well?" he asked, his eyes pleading with her not to start anything. The neighbors all seemed to suspect why she was here, and some people, including Cole, were actually staring.
"Is this her?" Faye asked, staring at Jessica.
"This is my fiancee, Jessica "he said stiffly. "What do you want?"
Faye should have run at the tone—and the look that accompanied it—but she stood her ground. She was very pale and quiet. In fact, she was shaking. But she didn't back down an inch.
"I want to know if you still intend to marry her," Faye said quietly, "when I'm carrying your child?"
"That's a lie," Ben said easily.
"It was a few weeks ago," Faye agreed. "Now it isn't. You know why. And when."
His face went stark white. So that afternoon had paid dividends. But why now, for God's sake, when he was on top of the world? Why had she come here to destroy him in public, in front of his fiancee and his employer?
He started to speak, to ask her to go outside with him so they could talk. But Jessica beat him to the punch.
"Get rid of it, honey," Jessica told her—with cold insolence and a look that spoke volumes. "Girls like you know how, don't they? Ben can pay for it."
"What—what do you mean?" Faye stammered.
"Get an abortion." Jessica shrugged. "It's easy. Any madam can show you. But you won't get Ben, because I need him and he's marrying me. Shopworn little creatures like you can always get hicks. In a place like this, you'll strike paydirt," she added, with a meaningful glance around the crowded house.
The room had gone very quiet. Jessica didn't care. This creature had to be got rid of before she played on Ben's sympathies.
"Now get out," Jessica told the girl. "We don't want poor white trash like you in here—"
"Who the hell do you think you are, lady?" Cole's deep voice bit into her speech.
He resisted Lacy's frantic pull and went to tower over Jessica. "Faye, come here." He held out his arms, and Faye, frightened, ran to him. He pulled her close and looked at Jessica's shocked face with unrefined contempt. "This is my home,"he told her. "I decide who goes and who stays. Faye Cameron is a sweet, nice girl who never did anything wrong in her life until she landed in the orbit of my licentious brother! If she's pregnant, the child will be a Whitehall, and will be provided for—not scraped out of her like some fungus! And if you open your mouth again in that venomous manner, you will regret it."
"You can't speak to my daughter like that," Randolph Bradley said haughtily.
"Oh, but he can," Lacy said. She moved forward, putting her arm around the other side of Faye to give her support. It had taken guts for Faye to come here. She wasn't going to let those people savage her, either.
"I hardly think a rancher has any right to treat people of our station in this manner," Jessica said sarcastically, getting her poise back. "Especially when we did Ben a favor just to come here. You're a nobody in San Antonio, Mr. Whitehall."
"The husband of the heir to the Jacobsen fortune?" Lacy replied. "You must be mad if you think Cole lacks social standing." She felt Cole's rage and saw Ben's anguish, but it was her turn now. She lifted her chin. "You didn't know that my great-uncle Horace Jacobsen founded Spanish Flats, I suppose?"
Randolph Bradley hesitated. "Horace Jacobsen? The Horace Jacobson, the railroad tycoon?"
"Why, yes," Lacy said pleasantly, aware of Cole's stiffness. She hated doing this to his pride, but it had become necessary to save Faye. "He left his fortune to my great-aunt, his wife, and it passed to me on her death." She fingered the diamonds. "These rhinestones were hers," she told Jessica. "Except that they are not costume jewelry. They once belonged to Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, as legend goes. She was an ancestor of mine. And the dress I'm wearing, my dear isn't something I whipped up on my treadle machine." Her eyes glittered. "It's a Paris original; one which, I daresay, is quite beyond your pocket!"
Jessica was looking drawn. Ben tried to feel sorry for her, but it wasn't easy. Faye looked shattered, and he was going to catch hell from Cole; he could see it in the older man's furious expression. Lacy was just getting warmed up.
"There's just one more little piece of information I have to impart to you, Mr. Bradley," Lacy continued, with venomous politeness. "You number among your biggest advertisers two of my cousins who dote on me. One word from me, and I can close your newspaper down overnight!"
Randolph Bradley had never groveled in his life, but he came close to it then. Apologies for himself and his daughter flowed from his lips. Lacy wasn't listening. She was staring at Jessica with eyes that made vicious demands.
"You surely don't expect me to apologize," Jessica said icily. "That little slut isn't pregnant; she's just making it up to get Ben. But he belongs to me, now.. .and I'm not sharing him. Take me home, Ben. And don't ever expect me to come back here again."
"
How could you?" Ben asked huskily, staring at Faye. "How could you do this to me, knowing what my career means? You vicious little liar!"
Faye leaned her tearful face against Cole's chest.
Cole's eyes flared at his brother. "You made her pregnant and cast her off, and you think she's vicious?" he asked, his voice threatening. "You cold-blooded, mercenary opportunist!"
Marion came forward, white as a sheet. "Bennett, please don't spoil the party. All of you, please!"
She clutched her chest. Lacy quickly got her into a chair while people gathered around. Lacy ran for one of the pills the doctor had prescribed and came back to slip one under Marion's tongue. The pain seemed to subside fairly quickly, but she was still pale and sickly.
Cole looked at Ben over her head. "Take your streetwalker out of my house," he said, with icy fury. "If you come back, I'll beat you bloody. I swear to God I will!"
Ben hesitated, but only for a minute. He'd never seen Cole look at him like this before, as if he were a stinging insect. Even his mother's eyes were accusing, and Lacy and Faye wouldn't look at him. He was the wronged party here, so why did he feel so wretched and sick at heart? With a rough sigh, he took Jessica's arm, ignoring her affronted raging, and pulled her out of the house.
Randolph Bradley hovered uncertainly. "I apologize for my daughter..." he began.
Lacy looked up at him. She was all but shaking with indignation because of Ben's treatment of Faye. This man had manipulated Ben and put them all in this shameful position. "I wouldn't count on being in San Antonio too much longer, if I were you. In fact, I'd consider cutting my losses while I had the time."
He swallowed. His new enterprise was going to end in ruin because of his spoiled daughter. He didn't know how he was going to cope. "Your brother-in-law will be out of a job." He used his last hole card.
"My brother-in-law deserves to be," she said curtly. "Please leave my home."
He did, rather hesitantly. The guests murmured among themselves. They'd take home enough gossip to carry them through the winter. Lacy grimaced.
Cole stood up. "Well, don't just stand there," he said, glaring at them. He pulled Faye to his side and smiled down at her. "I'm going to be an uncle. Sure as hell that's a reason for celebration! Put that music back on!"
The incredible statement saved the day. No one mentioned that the niece or nephew would be born out of wedlock, or that Faye was disgraced, or that the guest of honor had just been thrown out the door. The party began again, with pure revelry.
"Oh, Mr. Whitehall, can you ever forgive me?" Faye wailed. "I don't know why I did it!"
"Because you love him, of course," Cole said kindly. He handed her his handkerchief. "Mind the stains," he teased as she stared at the dark red smudges. "Lacy's lip rouge is potent."
"It must be, considering the amount of it you've removed tonight," Marion said, with a feeble attempt at humor that turned too soon to tears of grief and loss.
"Now, now," Lacy said, kissing her powdered cheek. "I'm going to send Mr. Bradley back to New York on a rail. Doesn't that make you feel better?"
"Ben will go with them!" she wailed.
"He'd better," Cole said, his eyes flashing. "I meant what I said. I won't have him in this house."
"He's your brother, Coleman," Marion choked. "My son!"
"He's a jackass," came the short reply. "And until he gets his priorities straight, he can stay away. How do you think Faye feels? He has no honor! He's put her in the family way and made out that it was all her fault. Then he stood and let that floozy call her a tramp in front of all her neighbors!"
"I'm going to have a kid and I'm not married," Faye said miserably. "I guess I am a tramp."
"You are not!" Cole's eyes looked threatening. "Don't you ever say that again. We'll help Ira with the expenses. That baby's going to be pampered. Spoiled rotten. That baby will be a Whitehall— and don't you forget it."
Faye brightened a little. "Gosh, you don't—you don't mind?"
He smiled at her. "No. I don't mind."
"People will talk." She sighed. "Everybody will know."
"It's better that way," Lacy assured her. "Secrets are dangerous. They make you vulnerable. If everyone knows all about you, you can never be blackmailed." She touched the bright blond hair. "There are always people who don't mind capitalizing on the pain of others. That's why you won't hide your baby, Faye. Everyone will know about it, and that's your protection. It will all be right out in the open, and you'll go to church with us every Sunday before it's born."
"Oh, no!" Faye gasped. "They wouldn't let me!"
Lacy drew her forward and turned off the gramophone, then held up her hand for silence.
"I need to ask something. Would any of you object if we bring Faye to church with us on Sunday, considering that she is an unwed mother?"
"Good heavens, no!" Mrs. Darlington gasped. "None of us are that perfect, my dear," she told Faye, and smiled at her.
The sentiment was echoed by any number of neighbors, and Lacy relaxed.
Cole pulled her into the circle of his arm, keeping a wary eye on Marion, who was looking brighter by the minute now that her medicine had taken effect.
"You handled that very well, Mrs. Whitehall,"he said, smiling. "That was one terrific object lesson you gave Bradley."
"I'm sorry it came to that. Poor Ben."
"Poor Ben, the devil!" he returned. "Poor little Faye."
"She'll do," she told him. "She's tough. I'm glad we didn't try to cover it up. Faye would have been so miserable trying to hide her condition from the community, terrified that someone would find out. It's much better to have things aboveboard. We have no secrets from God, after all—even if people do hide them from one another."
"I suppose so. My mother has never been able to bear gossip. In her generation people died rather than disgrace the family."
"Can you imagine what some of our contemporaries will have to live down when they're grandparents?" she teased. Her eyes flirted with him. "Would you like to dance?"
"In lieu of kicking my brother and his woman back to San Antonio, sure."
"Ben will never forgive you for what you called her," Lacy said, her lips twitching.
"I'll never forgive her for what she said to Faye. Poor little kid... Look at her. She loves Ben so much that she'll ruin that child with loving when it's born. And he wants that city icicle."
"She may not be so receptive when my cousins get through with her father," Lacy said. "Ben wanted Jessica because of his career. She wanted Ben because her father needed him to write for the paper, knowing that he'd do it cheap because he was involved with Jessica. I expect there'll be a parting of the ways any day now."
"One can hope," Cole said. "But I meant it. Until—and unless— Ben apologizes, he can't come here."
"Not even to see Marion?" Lacy asked gently. "It will break her heart."
"He can see her in town," he said shortly, bending that much but no further. "I'll have Turk drive her."
"Poor Turk took off. Jessica was really giving him the eye."
"He isn't as much a lady's man as he was," Cole said thoughtfully. "Amazing, that. He's different lately."
"Since Katy left," Lacy agreed.
"Yes. Since Katy left." He sighed. "I wish I knew how she was. I'm sure something's wrong. I just feel it."
As if in answer to the statement, the telephone gave the ranch's three rings. Cole and Lacy exchanged long glances before he went quickly to answer it. Lacy held her breath, sensing disaster.
Chapter Fourteen
Cole didn't recognize the voice on the other end of the line. The operator had said it was a call from Chicago before she connected them.
"I want to speak to Mr. Whitehall," a strange male voice announced over crackling wires.
"This is Coleman Whitehall," Cole said shortly.
"I'm Lieutenant Higgins, of the Chicago police. I'm afraid I have some bad news. There's been a shooting," the caller replied, adding quickly, "Mrs.
Marlone is.. .not wounded. Her husband, however, is dead. We have the culprit in custody. A Mr. Blake Wardell. He's a well-known local gambler with whom Mr. Marlone had dealings."
Cole sucked in his breath. Marlone, dead! That damned mobster! Cole couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for the man, but he did feel sorry for Katy.
"Can I speak to my sister?" he asked, keeping his voice down so that Marion and Lacy wouldn't overhear. He wanted time to break it to them gently.
"That's the problem, you see. Until five minutes ago, we didn't know how to contact her family. Mr. Marlone's mother, regrettably, had to be sedated and couldn't tell us anything."
"Couldn't Katy have told you?" he shot back, fear knotting up his stomach.
"Mr. Whitehall..." Higgins hesitated. "Mrs. Marlone is.. .not able to speak. The attending physician feels that her mind has, forgive me, gone. He wants to speak with you about the possibility of having her transferred to a—to a sanitarium. He does not think that she will recover."
Cole felt the blood draining out of his face. He was utterly speechless for a space of seconds while the impact hit him. Katy's mind was gone. She was insane. Guilt, rage, murderous anger washed over him in turn.
"Where is she?" he choked, aware of an apprehensive Lacy and his mother watching him with wide eyes.
"In City General Hospital. Mr. Whitehall..."
"She witnessed the shooting?" Cole asked, with cold certainty.
"Yes."
"There's something more. What is it?" he added perceptively.
"When we arrived, two of the occupants of the room were.. .in a state of undress. Mr. Marlone, the deceased, was fully clothed and armed. I'm afraid the situation spoke for itself."
Cole wouldn't relay that message to the women, he decided instantly. But he felt furious anger at the dead man for putting Katy in such company.
"I'll be on the first train to Chicago," Cole said tightly. "Tell the doctor to do nothing until I arrive."
"Yes, sir. I'll have someone meet you at the station."
"Thank you." Cole hung up, barely aware of Lucy tugging at his sleeve, of Marion's worried face. He turned to them. "Katy's husband has been killed," he said gently. "She's all right, but Lacy and I will need to go to Chicago and bring her home. She's.. .in shock," he said evasively.