Lacy

by Diana Palmer

  "You're sure she's all right?" Marion asked huskily, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Coleman. I can't bear much more!"

  "I do realize that." Cole put a supporting arm around her and motioned to Faye. "Honey, can you stay with Mother tonight? Lacy and I have to go to Chicago to fetch Katy home."

  "I can stay," Faye said. "Papa's probably drunk by now. He won't notice if I'm gone or not."

  "If you have any trouble with Mother get Turk. He'll handle things while I'm gone. Lacy, you'd better change. I'll talk to Turk. He can drive us to the station."

  Lacy didn't hesitate. She went immediately to their room to put on her traveling suit and get a coat.

  Hours later, tired and sleepy, they arrived at the train station. As he'd promised, the police lieutenant had dispatched someone to meet them—himself.

  He was a tall, blue-eyed man with silvery hair and a kind smile. "I'm Higgins. You're the Whitehalls, I presume?" he asked, extending a hand to shake Cole's. Cole hadn't changed his suit; he'd only added a black Stetson and boots to the ensemble. He looked very Western, something the older man seemed to find fascinating. "Never met a real rancher before," he told Cole as they watched toward his car, "but we do a big business in Texas beef down at the stockyards."

  "So I hear," Cole said. "Has my sister said anything?"

  "I'm afraid not. But I'm glad you came. I would have hated seeing her sent to one of those places."

  Lacy worried over that statement as they drove to the hospital, Cole asking questions and the lieutenant fielding them. Cole had told her everything. Almost everything, she amended silently, certain that he was still holding something back. She only hoped that Katy wasn't as bad as they'd been led to believe. She noticed that Cole hadn't told Turk anything except that Katy's husband was dead and Katy wanted to come home. He said later that he had a few suspicions regarding how Turk felt about Katy, and he wanted to be there when the man was given the truth. Turk might go off the deep end, he said. Lacy wondered about that, too. The blond foreman hadn't been the same since Katy'd married.

  Their arrival at the hospital diverted her thoughts to more immediate matters. They were shown to a ward of iron-railed beds. In one of them lay Katy, on sheets as white as her face. She was very still under the covers, her body pitifully thin, her brown hair disheveled, her green eyes dull. She looked at the ceiling, but she didn't see anything or hear anything.

  Lacy bent over her, into the field of vision. "Katy?" she whispered.

  There was no response. Not even the twitch of an eyelash. Cole left the ward with the doctor. When he came back in, he was somber and noticeably pale.

  "Can you get her dressed?" he asked Lacy, his voice strained. "I'll wait outside."

  "Y-yes," Lacy said falteringly. "Cole..."

  "I know," he said huskily. He looked at Katy and winced. "God,

  I know. We'll cross one bridge at a time. Hurry. If we can, I'd like to make the next train out. We can sleep at home if you think you can manage."

  "Of course I can," she said quickly.

  He went out, alone with his thoughts. A nurse came in to help Lacy, pulling the curtain around the bed. While Lacy fought a limp Katy into her things, the nurse gave her instructions to follow when they got home—about a doctor's continue care, about simple nursing techniques like turning Katy every few hours so that she didn't get bedsores. Lacy was tired and sleepy, but she listened.

  "Is there any chance that she'll recover?" Lacy asked Cole when he'd carried Katy down to the car. Lieutenant Higgins was still tagging along, concerned.

  "Very little, the doctor said," Cole replied tersely.

  "Miracles happen," the lieutenant insisted. "I've seen a few in my twenty years of police work."

  "I hope you're right," Lacy said fervently. "Oh, poor Katy!"

  "You realize that she's in no shape to testify?" Cole asked the police officer on the way to the train.

  "Certainly. If her condition should change, however, we 'd like to be notified."

  "I hope I can oblige," Cole replied. "Maybe just being at home will do the trick."

  "What about the man who did the shooting?" Lacy asked curiously.

  "Ah, the crafty Mr. Wardell." He smiled. "Well, little lady, I expect to find him out on bail when the doors open in the morning. He's rich—and he has plenty of friends at city hall. He had no use for Marlone. Wardell may be a mobster, but he's an honorable mobster. He hates drugs." Cole froze. "Drugs?"

  "Didn't you know?" the lieutenant asked. He waited until Lacy got the message and went on ahead. Then he paused beside Cole. "Marlone was hooked on the stuff. He was into all sorts of perverted stuff with women. Wardell was in love with Mrs. Marlone here. Although he said himself that she'd had a few drinks and didn't really know what was happening, he was crazy for her. He said Marlone had beaten her up bad a few days before. Last night, she was tipsy, and he lost control. Marlone didn't walk in on them so much as he sneaked in to watch."

  "Oh. my God," Cole ground out, sick at the sordidness of it. "Did Katy know?"

  "Not until after. Neither of them did. Wardell jumped out of bed, yelling bloody murder. Marlone grabbed his gun and tried to shoot him, but Wardell was quicker." He looked Cole in the eye. "What happened was horrible, but she was the victim in all of it. She did what Marlone told her to do because she was scared stiff of him. He was so hopped up, he didn't mind killing people. She probably was afraid he'd kill one of you if she asked for help. Don't blame her."

  "She's my sister," Cole replied, glancing down at her thin, vacant face. "I love her."

  "Wardell will probably look for her,"he said. "He's asked about her constantly. He feels responsible."

  "A mobster with a conscience?" Cole scoffed.

  "A man in love," Higgins said quietly. "I've known the guy a long time. I've never seen him like this. He's torn up. He tried to get her away from Marlone, but she was too afraid to go."

  "You said Marlone's mother had to be sedated. Will she be all right?"

  "She has family in Italy. I imagine she'll go back there, now. She never liked this country."

  "It's unhealthy for some people," Cole said. His mind was reeling with what he'd learned.

  They caught up with Lacy, who was frowning.

  "You said Danny used drugs. Katy didn't take them, did she?" Lacy asked miserably.

  "I'm sure she didn't, ma'am," the police officer replied gallantly. "There were no needle marks."

  "Thank God," Lacy whispered, her eyes on Katy's vacant face. "My poor Katy!"

  "I wish you well," the lieutenant said as he watched them board the train when it came, Cole cradling Katy as he carried her inside the compartment. "I'll be in touch."

  "Thank you," Cole said, and meant it. "If you ever get down to Texas, you'll always have a place to stay."

  The older man smiled. "Always fancied being a cowboy. I suppose it's nothing near as glamorous as Zane Grey says."

  Cole smiled. "Not unless you like blood and sweat and getting kicked in the belly by mama cows."

  "That's what I thought. Have a good trip." He paused. "About Wardell..."

  Cole hesitated. He wanted to say to hell with the man. But he'd tried to help Katy when no one else had. And he knew himself how it hurt to love someone who seemed out of his reach. He sighed with reluctant resignation. "Tell him he can call. You have my number. But he's only to speak to me. You understand?"

  "Very well," Higgins agreed. "Poor fish. He can't help himself. Too bad he didn't go respectable, with a brain like that. Good-bye."

  Katy didn't stir all the way back to the siding at Spanish Flats. Lacy slept, curled up against Cole, while he dozed intermittently. She'd asked questions, but he'd kept from saying much. He didn't want her to know all of it yet.

  His mind was cluttered with worries. His mother's health, the row with Ben, Faye's pregnancy, Katy's condition... On top of that, there was the financial situation, getting worse daily as cattle prices fell. He closed his eyes on a silent prayer. Nobody s
hort of God could bail him out now.

  Marion came out on the porch when she heard a car drive up. Cole and Lacy arrived with Katy. It was well after daylight, and they'd hitched a ride home with a neighbor who'd gone into town after his mail. Marion had hardly slept, despite little Faye's loving concern and care.

  "Katy!" Marion exclaimed, shocked when she saw her daughter's face and blank stare. "Cole, what's happened to her!"

  "Shock," Cole said instantly. "She needs plenty of rest and quiet, and she'll be all right. Let's get her to her room."

  "I made up her bed," Marion said. "Oh, my poor baby!" She touched Katy's hair, but the girl didn't stir, not even when she was laid on the coverlet of her bed. Cole pulled a pillow under her head, and all three of them stood watching her, worrying.

  "Where's Turk?" Cole asked.

  "At the barn— No, I hear him," Marion said, smiling as the blond man approached down the hall. "He's been as excited about Katy coming home as I have. Not that we aren't sorry about Danny, of course," she added guiltily. "Will she be going back for the funeral?"

  That would be one for the books, Cole thought sadly.

  Turk came into the room before Cole could speak, hat in hand, grinning. "So there you are, tidbit—"The grin faded; the light in his eyes went out as he saw Katy's face. He moved slowly to the bedside and looked down at her without speaking. "I thought you said she was all right," he said to Cole, his eyes flashing.

  "She will be," Lacy said stubbornly. "She's had a shock, that's all."

  "What kind of shock?"Turk asked. His face grew wild, like the thick blond hair his hand was worrying.

  "Danny was killed in front of her," Cole said. He didn't add one word about the circumstances. Turk didn't need to know that. It would drive him mad.

  "Tough "Turk said quietly. His eyes ran over her face with aching need. It had been so long since he'd seen her. He'd relived that afternoon with her every night, woke burning for her every morning, cursed himself for letting her leave with Marlone. Now she was back, but she wasn't. She was damaged. Thin and worn and older somehow, and her eyes didn't see anything. Surely, he thought fearfully, this was more than just shock at seeing her husband shot. He knew that look as well as Cole did. He'd seen it in the faces of airmen who couldn't get back on board their planes. He'd seen it on the faces of combat troops who couldn't get out of bed, their eyes mercifully vacant, their minds.. .gone!

  He turned toward Cole's tormented face, and when he saw it, he knew. A look passed between them that the women didn't see. Turk felt his stomach caving in. There was something more. Something horrible. He looked at Katy and the light went out of the world as he realized that this was no minor case of shock.

  If only he'd stopped her from leaving! There was an ominous stillness about her body that frightened him. Only her shallow breathing made her look alive at all.

  "Where's Faye?" Lacy asked Marion.

  "Out back. It's washday," Marion replied.

  Lacy poked her head out the window and looked. There was Faye, and two of the ranch wives, doing the laundry. Faye held a long wooden battling stick; she was standing over a big black pot of boiling water where the white shirts were soaking. She stirred them, damp hair around her face. Nearby, two number two washtubs of cold water waited to rinse the soap and bleach out of the shirts. There was another washtub of soapy water with a wood and accordion-metal washboard, too, to scrub the work clothes on and loosen the ground-in dirt. Two long wire lines were attached to oak trees just behind the washtubs for hanging the wet laundry. Washing was an all-day job, and the ranch didn't boast a washing machine yet. It was the one luxury the women would have given their teeth for, but it was too expensive, Marion insisted, and dug her heels in when Lacy tried to buy her one. The telephone and indoor bathroom and electricity were already wearing on her conscience.

  Faye looked happy, despite her chore. Lacy smiled.

  "Can we keep her, do you think?" she asked Cole. "Her father won't really miss her, and he's too drunk to look after her."

  "I wouldn't mind," Cole said, agreeing, "but Ira wouldn't hear of it. He loves her, you know. Drunk or sober." "I suppose you're right." She sighed.

  "Besides, we've got Katy to take care of now," he added, his eyes troubled as he looked at his sister. "God knows what she's been through in the past few months. She's so thin."

  "My poor baby," Marion said gently, tears in her eyes. "What a terrible night it's been for her."

  "She'll get better," Lacy said, with conviction. "You wait and see."

  "I do hope you're right," Marion said. But she looked worried all the same.

  Turk hadn't said a word. He took one last look at Katy and left the room. He couldn't bear her silent stillness another minute without breaking down. Until he saw her in that condition, he didn't know that he loved her. Ironic, he thought, that he should know it now, when it was probably far too late.

  In Chicago, Blake Wardell was stepping out into the street into early morning traffic. He needed a shave and his eyes were bloodshot. Beside him, his lawyer was talking, but he barely heard.

  ".. .clear case of self-defense," the attorney muttered. "Everyone knows Marlone was a dopey pervert. But if the woman recovers enough to testify—"

  "No."Wardell stared down at him with blazing dark eyes. "You leave her out of it. I'll take the rap if I have to—-I'll go up for murder one if I have to—but you leave her out of it, completely! Buy off anybody you have to, but keep her name out of the papers."

  "We'll have to get Mama Marlone out of town," the lawyer said thoughtfully.

  "Ship her home to Italy,"he said. "Do it today. Then find the boys from the coroner's office and the cops who answered the call. Play on their sympathies, grease their palms. But cool them off. And have a private word with the publishers of those papers."

  "You're taking a risk."

  "I'd take poison for her," he said huskily. "Go on home. I want to see Higgins."

  The lieutenant was in his office, and not at all surprised when Wardell came in the door, big and dark and oddly subdued.

  "Here," Higgins said, handing the big man a slip of paper without being asked. "That's her brother's telephone number. He said you're welcome to call, but don't talk to anybody but him. He hasn't told the family all of it. He probably never will."

  "How was she?" he asked quietly.

  "Bad," Higgins said, pulling no punches. This man was well able to take anything life threw at him, even the loss of a woman he idolized. "Nobody knows if her mind's gone or not, but her brother won't let her be institutionalized."

  "Neither would I. Are her folks well fixed?"

  "Beats me. They're ranching people. I imagine not."

  "Anything they need,"he said. "Anything at all. Doctors, money, nurses.. .you name it."

  "Tell him. But don't expect help to be welcomed. He's got the devil's own pride."

  Wardell smiled faintly. That sounded familiar. "Okay. There are ways. I know bankers all over."

  "I'm not surprised." Higgins stood up. "If you do anything outside the law, make sure I don't know about it. You're in enough trouble."

  "Think so?"

  Higgins shrugged. "Not really. Marlone was a dirty rat. He only got what was coming to him. No sane jury will convict you. I know several dames who'll dance on his coffin and make terrific character witnesses."

  Wardell looked at the slip of paper and almost caressed it. His only link with Katy. It was the most precious thing in his possession. He glanced at Higgins. "You told him, didn't you?"

  He nodded.

  "And he still gave me his telephone number."

  "A gentleman, is Mr. Whitehall," Higgins said. "A keen student of human nature, too, I imagine. You see, I told him how you feel about Mrs. Marlone."

  Wardell laughed hollowly. "For all the good it will do me. There's this guy, back home," he said, his eyes lackluster. "He was all she ever talked about. She was tipsy last night, and I took advantage of it. But she didn't even kno
w me when she fainted..." His eyes closed and he turned away in agony.

  "Wardell."

  He paused, but he didn't look back. "Yeah?"

  "Go legit," Higgins said. "You're wasted in the company you keep. A brain like yours, you could be governor."

  "I thought you said go legit," came the dry reply. He went out, closing the door quietly behind him. Higgins smiled sadly and pulled out the file on the next case.

  THE DRIVE TO SAN ANTONIO was long and harrowing, and all the way, Jessica raged about the treatment she'd received.

  "And you just stood there and let them wipe the floor with me!" she shrilled. "You're not even a man! I couldn't care less about you, Ben. I only kept you sweet because Daddy needed you!"

  "Daddy doesn't need him anymore," Randolph said wearily from the backseat, his dead dreams leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "Ben's sister-in-law is going to put me out of business. She suggested that I cut my losses while I still had time. That's sound advice. I'm closing the paper and we're going back to New York. Sorry it worked out this way, Ben. I didn't know how much influence Mrs. Whitehall had."

  "Neither did I," Ben replied quietly. Lacy had never mentioned her great-uncle around the ranch, or the fact that she inherited anything more than her great-aunt's house in San Antonio. To spare Cole's pride, he thought bitterly. Everything Lacy did was for Cole.

  "What will you do?" Randolph asked.

  "I'll go to Paris," he said abruptly, the sting of finding out what Jessica really felt for him little more than wounded pride. Maybe he even deserved what he was getting. He'd hurt Faye and his mother enough to deserve plenty more. He'd even hurt Lacy and Cole, despite the fact that they now seemed closer than ever.

  "Joining the Lost Generation?" Jessica mocked. "What makes you think they'll have you?"

  He glanced at her coldly. "Some people like me for myself."

  "The little blonde? You could always go back to her."

  Could he, really? Faye had loved him. He didn't imagine she could after the way he'd humiliated her tonight. Poor little thing. What if she was really pregnant?