Lacy

by Diana Palmer

  "That's why you wouldn't tell Cole, either, wasn't it?"

  Katy nodded, her green eyes dull. "I didn't want anyone hurt because of me. I'm glad Blake won't go to prison. He was kind. He would have protected me if I'd left Danny, and asked for nothing. He didn't force me," she added, concerned that Lacy might think he had. "I agreed. It wasn't all fear of Danny, though. You see, Wardell is.. .very special. Like.. .Turk," she said falteringly.

  "You've never stopped loving our Turk, really, have you?" Lacy asked, her eyes intent on Katy's pale face.

  "I can't. He doesn't know," she added, averting her face. "I've got just enough pride left to keep my distance from him. He's very upset about the baby—and about what happened to me—but that isn't love, Lacy. That's pity. I'd rather have nothing than that. And he's disgusted about Blake, as well. I saw how he looked at me every time Blake's name was mentioned." She gnawed her lower lip. "He holds me in contempt for that night. He probably thinks I've got Danny's death on my soul because of it."

  "Turk isn't like that," Lacy chided gently. "He cares about you."

  "Not the way I want him to." Katy shifted restlessly. "Oh, Lacy, my life is in pieces! Perhaps I should have gone to Blake. At least he loved me. He tried so hard to protect me."

  "I'm afraid he's still trying," Lacy murmured, peeking out the doorway to make sure no one was listening. "He talks to Cole quite often, checking on you."

  Katy caught her breath. She knew the mobster had been acquitted, and she was fiercely glad. Despite the fact that her heart was forever Turk's, she was never going to be able to fully forget the pleasure she'd known in Wardell's arms that long night. A tiny part of her would always belong to him—despite her feelings for Turk.

  "He's all right?" Katy asked in spite of herself.

  "Quite all right. He's opened a legitimate business and divested himself of his gambling interests," she said. "And he's made some very firm veiled threats about what he'll do to the 'blond ace' if he doesn't make you happy!"

  Katy twisted her wedding ring nervously. She'd left it on her finger out of guilt and remorse over Danny's death.

  "I'm glad he's going straight. He's a good man, in his way." She looked up. "He wouldn't really hurt Turk," she added. "He's not that kind of man."

  Lacy had never seen a mobster except for Danny. She was curious. "What does Mr. Wardell look like?" she asked.

  Katy smiled at the curiosity despite herself. "He's forty-one," she told Lacy. "Very big and dark and masculine, nice-mannered and kind. He's wealthy, too. But he's so alone, Lacy. He never seemed to belong anywhere. People respected him in Chicago, but they were afraid of him, too. He was always alone. Even his men kept their distance."

  "That's sad."

  "I might have died but for him," Katy said, staring out the window. "Danny had gone out after he hit me. He hardly even stopped long enough to make sure I wasn't dead. When I miscar­ried, he wasn't home. His mother was out; there was no one. Then Blake came by looking for me. He got me to the hospital, sat with me. He took me home when it was time, and brought roses with him to cheer up my room. Danny didn't come home for days. He didn't seem to understand about my losing the baby, or even to care. But Blake did."

  Lacy was touched. "I'm glad he cared enough to look out for you.

  "I wish I could have cared for him," Katy replied. "It's so hopeless, Lacy. I can't bear to be touched." "Give yourself time."

  "Perhaps I should go back to Chicago," Katy said, thinking aloud. "It would be better for Turk. It torments him to see me every day. He's changed so... Haven't you noticed? That's my fault, too. He isn't happy. He can hardly bear to look at me."

  Lacy stared at her. "Do you love him, Katy?"

  "With all my heart," she whispered. "But since Danny got killed I feel dead inside. I'm frozen up."

  "I can understand that," the other woman said sympathetically. "But you aren't giving Turk credit for his own feelings. It isn't guilt that makes him sit and stare at you every evening, or pity that keeps him on the ranch when the other men go to town to carouse."

  Katy flushed. "Isn't it?"

  "I think I know how a man looks when he's in love," Lacy said, smiling wistfully.

  Grateful for the change of subject, Katy smiled. "It's hard to miss, all right," she agreed. "If anyone had told me ten years ago that my big brother would lounge around like a lovesick bull over any woman, I'd have laughed. He's a case!" "So

  am I Lacy sighed. "I never dreamed of so much happiness!"

  "I'm glad for both of you," Katy said. "I'll never forget how you looked the day Cole went off to war. You're lucky to be so happy in love. I seemed doomed to the reverse."

  Lacy took off her apron and moved away from the sink. "Christmas is just around the corner," she told Katy. "We have to finish making the decorations for the tree. That should keep you from feeling so morose."

  "Turk wants to take me to a movie," Katy said, her green eyes troubled as she looked at Lacy. "I don't know if it's a good idea."

  "Of course it is." She took Katy's hands in hers. "Try to remember how you felt about him before all this came up. I remember watching you sit and just look at him when he was working with your heart in your eyes. That much feeling can't be totally lost."

  "Just buried," Katy murmured, and flushed, remembering what Turk had said about digging it back up again. But lately he hadn't said anything personal, which was why she felt so depressed. Perhaps he didn't want a deeper relationship, after all—now that he knew about Wardell. Perhaps he didn't want to soil his hands with her...

  "Stop dwelling on it, dear," Lacy chided gently. "Come. Let's do some more decorations. You know, Marion gets better every day. I can't help but think the doctor may be wrong about her condition."

  "And miracles happen," Katy said in agreement. She smiled. "I love the way she's rallying. I pray that she'll recover completely."

  "That could happen," Lacy said. She smiled, too—because she knew all about miracles. That Cole loved her was her biggest one.

  She went looking for him later that night and found him sitting in the study with ledgers spread out in front of him, his head in his hands.

  "Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.

  He lifted his head. His eyes kindled with warmth—as they always did when he looked at her now. He smiled and leaned back, holding out his arm.

  She went to him and allowed herself to be drawn down onto his lap. "Money troubles again?" she asked.

  "Business as usual, I'm afraid," he replied. He drew her close and held her quietly for a long moment before he spoke. "I may have to default on the next mortgage payment," he said finally. "I don't think I can meet it."

  "Oh, Cole," she said worriedly.

  "Grain prices have gone right through the roof. I had to buy it this time for the first time in memory, because I overstocked when cattle prices were low. Now I've got to sell off cattle or feed them through the winter. Either way, I'm going in the hole."

  "I'm not poor, you know." He started to speak very angrily, and she put her hand over his hard mouth to still the words. "No," she whispered. She bent and replaced her hand with her lips. A few seconds of that, and he forgot about being angry. In fact, he forgot everything in the heat of the sudden passion, his arms bruising and possessive, like the mouth that became instantly demanding on hers.

  "Let's go to bed," she whispered softly, her eyes teasing and bright.

  He glanced at the books and then back at her mouth. With a delighted laugh, he helped her up and followed her out of the room.

  TWO DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Cole was forced to go to see Mr. Harkness at the bank. He explained his difficulties. The banker was sympathetic, but inflexible.

  "You know I'd like to loan you the money, Cole," he said honestly. "But it just isn't good business to help you overextend even more."

  "Damn it, man. I could lose the ranch!"

  "I know that, too." Harkness leaned forward. "Can't you sell off some cattle, keep going that way?
"

  Cole grimaced. "Yes, I can. But I'll take a hell of a loss.You know what prices are. I overstocked earlier in the year because all the experts said that prices would go up. They didn't. Now I've got too many head and not enough feed."

  "Everyone's having problems," the banker agreed. "It's the times we live in, Cole. War boosts the economy, but only temporarily. Then it plunges again. It's all going downhill now, like a runaway train. All this borrowing without adequate capital to back it up— I tell you, we're in for worse times than these. You can't live on credit."

  "I'm finding that out," Cole said uncomfortably. He stood up. It had been a long time since he'd felt quite so desperate.

  Harkness stood, too, looking very young and helpless. "I'm sorry. That sounds trite, I know. But I really am. My father lost his home in Houston this year because the bank foreclosed there," he added slowly. "I know how it feels, if it helps."

  Cole lost a little of his bitterness. He managed a smile. "Thank you. It does, a bit."

  They shook hands. "If you could manage anything for collat­eral. .." the banker add.

  "All that's left is the car," Cole said. "I can't mortgage that. We need it too badly."

  The other man shifted uncomfortably and lifted his hands. "Times are hard."

  "Getting harder daily." Cole nodded.

  He left the bank and stood out on the street, his hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes wandering up and down the dirt road where a few cars were moving through town. Progress, he thought. In the old days, his father would have held the banker at gunpoint until he got his money. Civilization made it tough. Words, not bullets, dominated the modern world.

  He could hold up a train, he supposed. He laughed at the thought. He could see Lacy's expression if she had to bail him out of jail. No, he'd have to come up with something...

  His eyes narrowed as a thought occurred. He had a banker, and he'd only just now realized it. He could borrow, with interest, from someone he knew quite well by now. Yes, he could!

  Chapter Eighteen

  Faye settled down to her new job with a sense of freedom that she'd never had in her young life. It was like being in another world. She didn't have an alcoholic father to worry over and look after. She didn't have day-to-day poverty and the endless drudgery of housework. Even the nausea of pregnancy didn't bother her. She worked long hours in the dress shop with Lacy's cousins, and she never complained about that or the relatively low salary she got. Her wage included bed and board, which was nothing to sneeze at. She had Sunday off, and she went to church with the Morrows, who treated her much more like a loved relative than like a boarder.

  Now and again she thought about Ben with real regret. If she'd been older and less impressionable, perhaps the experience might have been avoided. As it was, she still cared deeply for him, but not enough to try and force him into a relationship he didn't really want. She'd have her baby all by herself and take care of it. At least Lacy and Cole were proud of the new addition to the Whitehall family, despite the fact that it would be illegitimate.

  There were people who would ostracize her when they knew about her circumstances. That was to be expected. But there were also people who would be more open-minded. In the city, attitudes weren't quite as rigid as they were in small communities. Lacy herself had allowed dancing and jazz in her home, while some members of society considered both the devil's province.

  Since the one letter Ben had written to Cole, apologizing for the can of worms he'd opened, there had been no communication at all. Faye wasn't surprised. She imagined Ben was having the time of his life in Paris, probably romancing every girl in sight and mingling with the avant-garde of the literary world. He would be, Faye decided, the perfect addition to the expatriated Americans overseas.

  Meanwhile she was getting an education. Ruby Morrow had begun to teach her to read and write. An apt pupil, Faye absorbed knowledge like a sponge, interested in everything that was offered. In no time, she was assured, she'd be as literate as anyone else in the city. Fay wasn't sure of that, but it flattered her to think so.

  Lacy wrote to her and invited her home for Christmas. Faye decided not to go, though, since her father had elected to visit his only brother in Houston for the holidays.

  "Faye isn't coming," Lacy told Cole, sitting down beside him on the porch steps while he repaired a bridle.

  "Why?" he asked absently.

  She pulled her coat closer, nuzzling her face down into the warm fur collar. "She says Ira is spending the holidays with his brother, and my cousin has invited her to Christmas dinner." She looked up, worried. "Do you think she's all right?"

  He smiled. "Lacy, she's enjoying her independence. Let her alone. I imagine it's all exciting to her."

  "I guess you're right." She folded the letter neatly and put it back in the envelope. Her eyes went to the bare horizon, which was clouding up. "Will it rain?"

  "Probably." He glanced at her. "I'll cut you a Christmas tree this afternoon."

  She smiled and laid her head against his thick coat. "You're a nice man. I think that's why I married you."

  "You married me because young Ben locked us in a line cabin together," he said wickedly, bending to nibble softly at her mouth. "Did we thank him?"

  "You were much too busy calling him foul names, as I recall," she whispered, kissing him gently on the lips.

  "I should have used that night to better advantage." He chuckled.

  "You wicked man," she said accusingly. "We weren't married!"

  He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her eyes. "We are now," he said. "Our first real Christmas together, Lacy," he added softly. "I hope you like what I got you."

  "Oh, Cole. You didn't get anything expensive?" she asked. "Not when you're in such financial trouble!"

  "It's something you'll like. Nothing extravagant, I promise," he said. He rubbed his nose against hers. "And I'll work out my finances. I've got something in mind."

  "Have you?" she asked, excited. "What?"

  "My secret, for now,"he said, because he wasn't sure that she— or anyone else at Spanish Flats—would approve of what he planned to do. He was meeting a gentleman in town at the end of next week to discuss those plans. If they worked out, his financial woes were over. But he didn't dare tell Lacy what he was up to. "You're very secretive," she accused.

  He kissed her gently and got to his feet. "That's nothing new," he replied, grinning. "Don't stay out here and get cold." I won't.

  She watched him stride off toward the barn with warm, possessive eyes. Turk noticed as he came riding up, dismounting with lazy grace at the front steps.

  "Still swooning over him, I see,"he drawled, doffing his stained black Stetson as he came up the steps. He looked older these days, and leaner than ever. His batwing chaps flapped as he moved, his spurs jingled, but the only cheer was in those sounds. His pale eyes were haunted.

  "I think it's mutual," she said, amused. "What are you doing home in the middle of the day? I thought you were helping mend fences."

  "I was. I remembered that I'd promised Katy a movie today. It's Saturday." "Yes, I know."

  Turk waited until she got up from her seat on the steps before he spoke. He hesitated, his pale eyes narrow and curious. "That gambler in Chicago... Does she talk about him?"

  She studied him intently. "It's natural that she would,Turk," she said quietly. "He was the only friend she had."

  "I suppose so."

  "She'll forget one day," she said helplessly. "It's just going to take time."

  "She still has nightmares," he replied quietly.

  "Considering how Danny died, it's not surprising. You used to have them, Cole said. Didn't yours go away eventually?" she asked daringly.

  He drew in a heavy breath. "Eventually. It took a long time."

  "Katy's will go away, too. A movie will do her good."

  "I hope so." He went inside, his spurs jingling. He smiled at Marion and waited while Katy finished tying the ribbon in her long hair.
She was wearing a sailor outfit with blue stripes and a pert little cap that matched.

  "I need to get cleaned up," Turk told her, his eyes slow and bold on her face. "I won't be long."

  "All right."

  He left, and Katy sat down with Marion. "Are you sure you don't mind if I go, Mama?" Katy asked.

  Marion smiled and patted her hand. "Dear, it delights me to see you taking an interest in life. Go with Turk. The entertainment will be good for you. Tell Turk I said take the runabout."

  "Thank you, Mama."

  The old eyes were loving. "I'm so glad that you're all right, my dear. Those first days at home were difficult ones for all of us. We worried about you so."

  "I'm fine. I'm getting better all the time."

  "I know. My prayers are being answered."

  Katy wished she could say that her own were, but she was still much more upset and confused than the other members of her family realized. She kept it to herself, to spare them. The night with Wardell ate at her. Adultery, murder, drunkenness—she could barely believe she'd done so many wrong things. Of it all, the adultery made her saddest—not because she'd cheated on Danny, but because Wardell loved her. She thought of him often and worried about him. He was, she thought, so terribly alone. He'd never loved anyone until he'd loved her, and she hadn't been able to give him anything. Her body, sympathy, affection were all he'd had. She knew how it felt to possess an empty shell, because her one experience with Turk had been empty like that. He'd made love to her, but he hadn't cared for her, not really. It had been a physical response he'd given her, just as she'd given a physical response to Wardell. Without love, it was bitter and sad. Poor Blake. He'd only wanted her love, and she couldn't give it.

  She wondered if she could ever feel it again. Her life had undergone such a radical change in a very short time. It was going to be hard getting back to normal, if she even could. Meanwhile there was Turk. She had no idea what he really wanted with her. He'd said he cared about her, but she didn't trust him. She remembered too well the things he'd told her before she'd left with Danny. Turk still loved his late wife, and he wanted no serious involvement with a woman. He'd said that and meant it, so he couldn't have changed his mind so quickly. He felt sorry for her, guilty about the baby she'd lost, but she'd better remember what he'd said the day she'd left the ranch. She'd better never forget it, or she could be in for as much heartache as poor Wardell.