Lacey stifled a yawn as she carried a tray of drinks across the room. She had been working in the saloon for almost two weeks and the newness had long worn off. Sometimes she felt as though she had worked in a saloon all her life.
She smiled a cardboard smile as she placed the drinks on the table and made change.
“How about a dance?” asked one of the men. He was tall and thick-set, with sharp brown eyes and a square jaw. There was a long scar on his left cheek.
“No, thank you,” Lacey replied.
She was walking away from the table when the scar-faced man gained his feet and took hold of her arm.
“Just one dance,” the man insisted.
“I said no,” Lacey said, her voice cold and final.
“And I said yes.” Taking the tray from her hand, he pulled her into his arms and began to waltz her around the floor.
Lacey looked around for Tucker, but he was nowhere to be seen. She gasped as the scar-faced man pulled her closer, his eyes moving to the swell of her breasts.
“Take your hands off her.”
Matt’s voice was hard and cold. The piano player took his hands from the keys, and the whole saloon went suddenly quiet as the scar-faced man whirled around, his arm still locked around Lacey’s waist.
“Who the hell are you?” the man asked.
“I’m her husband.”
“Husband! No shit?”
“No shit. Now take your hands off her.”
“Sure,” the man said. “I don’t want any trouble.”
He released his hold on Lacey, made as if to leave, then pivoted on his heel and drove his fist into Matt’s face. Matt staggered backward. The hand he lifted to his mouth came away covered with blood.
He ducked, quickly stepping out of the way as the scar-faced man lunged at him. Reaching out, Matt grabbed the man by the arm, spun him around, and slammed his fist into the man’s midsection. As the man doubled over, Matt grabbed him by the hair, jerked his head up, and hit him in the mouth. A second blow to the jaw rendered the man unconscious.
“Okay, folks, show’s over.” J.J. Tucker elbowed his way through the crowd. He took a long look at the big man crumpled on the floor, and the expression on Matt’s face. So, it had finally happened. He was surprised there hadn’t been trouble before this. He wasn’t surprised to find that Walker was as good with his fists as he was with a deck of cards. “Come on, break it up.”
Matt took Lacey aside. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She dabbed at his mouth with a towel. “Are you?”
“Yeah.”
“My hero,” she murmured under her breath.
“I told you to stay home where you belonged,” Matt growled. “But you had to work in a saloon.”
“And you had to be a gambler.”
“Okay, okay, I surrender.” Taking her face in his hands, he brushed a kiss across her lips.
J.J. Tucker cleared his throat. “Think you two could get back to work?” he asked with a wry grin.
“Sure,” Matt said. Giving Lacey’s arm a squeeze, he went back to his table, whistling softly.
As time went on, Lacey began to grow acquainted with the saloon’s regular customers. Most of them were businessmen who stopped by for a cold beer and a few minutes’ conversation before going home to the wife and kids. Cowboys from the outlying ranches came in on the weekends, eager to spend their money on good whiskey and bad girls. Lacey often saw the two men Matt had pointed out to her, the men who had accused him of killing Billy Henderson. The other man who had accused Matt never showed up at the saloon, and Matt remarked that he might have moved away, or died, or was simply out of town.
J.J. Tucker frequently took Lacey aside to talk to her, ostensibly about business, and she began to realize that the saloon owner was growing fond of her. It was a fact that troubled her deeply, mainly because she wasn’t sure how to handle it. Tucker never said or did anything that could be construed as forward, yet she knew, in the way a woman always knows, that J.J. Tucker found her attractive. He was a handsome man. His hair was dark brown, his eyes pale green, as cold as the Pacific in winter. He dressed immaculately, favoring dark suits and flowered brocade vests. He wore a large diamond ring on his right hand, a ruby stickpin in his cravat. Tucker was about the same height as Matt, but Matt was all whipcord and muscle while J.J. tended to be a little on the heavy side. Despite the fact that he was unfailingly polite, Lacey did not trust J.J. Tucker. There was something about him that made her uneasy, though she could not explain what it was.
Lacey had assumed that Tucker lived in one of the rooms over the saloon, but Matt told her he owned a large house near the end of town. His sister lived there as well. She was somewhat of a recluse, people said, but Matt remarked that he had heard from one of the men that she was a little crazy in the head.
Lacey frowned at Matt. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
A muscle worked in Matt’s jaw and his eyes grew hard. “She was engaged to Billy Henderson. They say she hasn’t left the house since he was killed, not even to attend the funeral.”
“Matt, it’s not your fault.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe I did kill the kid.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “I wish I could remember what happened that night.”
“Matt—”
“I hear tell she’s a pretty woman,” Matt remarked, “or was before she took to hiding in the house all the time. They say she hasn’t been out of that house since he died. Just sits in the parlor waiting for him to come calling.”
Lacey shook her head, her heart filling with compassion for the woman who had turned her back on the world.
“She must have loved Billy very much,” Lacey mused, and wondered how she would react if anything so tragic happened to Matt.
“Maybe. But people die, and life goes on. You can’t change the past by pretending it didn’t happen.”
“I wouldn’t want to go on living without you,” Lacey murmured.
“But you would,” Matt replied. “You wouldn’t stop living.”
Lacey shrugged. Who could say how they would react to something as awful as the death of a loved one until it happened?
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Lacey said.
But she couldn’t put the woman out of her mind. The next time she went shopping in town, she walked to the end of the street and gazed at the large house where J.J. Tucker’s sister lived. The house appeared well cared for. The paint was fairly new, the grass was green and neatly trimmed, shrubs and flowers grew near the front porch. The curtains were all drawn, Lacey noted, the front door closed against the world.
Curious, Lacey walked past the house looking for some sign of life. For a moment, she thought she saw a face at the front window, but it was such a fleeting image she decided it must have been a shadow or perhaps her own reflection as she passed by. Somehow the thought of a woman locking herself away from the world bothered Lacey deeply, and she puzzled over it and fretted about it for days. She thought about Matt and how deeply she loved him, how much a part of her he had become. What would she do if she lost him? Would she want to go on living? Would she have the courage to face the world without him beside her, or would she react like Tucker’s sister and simply withdraw from reality?
Taking her courage in hand, she brought the subject up to Tucker one night when business was slow.
“I…I heard some of the men talking about your sister,” Lacey began somewhat hesitantly.
“Did you?” Tucker replied, his voice void of expression.
“Yes. They say she never goes out.”
“That’s right.” Tucker shrugged helplessly. “I tried to cheer her up at first, tried to make her see that her life wasn’t over, but she just stared at me like I wasn’t there.” Tucker snorted with disgust. “I tried to tell her that Henderson wasn’t worth one of her tears. The little bastard, always snooping around the saloon as if he had every right to be there just because he was engaged to Susanne�
�”
Tucker broke off abruptly, his expression becoming blank. “I shouldn’t be boring you with all this.”
“You aren’t,” Lacey assured him, somewhat mystified by J.J.’s outburst. What had he been afraid Billy Henderson would find? “How old is your sister?” Lacey asked.
Tucker frowned. “Twenty-two, twenty-three, I’m not sure.”
“She’s so young!” Lacey exclaimed. “You can’t let her waste away in that house any longer.”
“Just what do you suggest I do?” Tucker demanded. “I’ve tried everything I can think of.”
“I don’t know. Would it be all right if I went to visit her?”
“You can try, but I doubt if she’ll let you in.”
Lacey bit down on her lip, wondering what she had gotten herself into. “She’s not…dangerous, is she?”
“Susanne?” Tucker laughed softly. “No, she’s not dangerous. Just alone.”
Matt was less than thrilled when Lacey told him she was going to pay a call on J.J. Tucker’s sister.
“Why do you want to get involved in that?” he asked incredulously. “Haven’t we got enough troubles of our own without you going out and looking for more?”
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Lacey retorted. “I just—I don’t know, I can’t explain it, but I feel so sorry for her.”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t like it, but you do whatever you think is best.”
Lacey nodded. “Matt, do you think Tucker could have had anything to do with Billy Henderson’s death?”
“J.J.?” Matt shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I was talking to him last night and I got the impression that he wasn’t very fond of Billy. He said something about Billy always snooping around the saloon and oh, I don’t know. It was just a thought.”
“You be careful, Lacey. Don’t be sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
Lacey went to the Tucker house the following afternoon. There were butterflies in her stomach as she climbed the stairs and knocked on the front door.
A minute passed. Two. No one came to the door.
Lacey knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.
She knocked a third time, hammering on the door with her fist. “Susanne? I know you’re in there. Please let me in. I’m a friend of J.J.’s.”
Another minute passed, and Lacey was about to give up and go home when the door opened the merest fraction and a pair of dark green eyes peered out at her.
“Susanne?” Lacey asked. “My name is Lacey Walker, and I work for your brother.”
“What do you want?” Susanne’s voice was soft and raspy, as though she rarely spoke aloud.
What did she want? Lacey mused to herself. “I…I don’t know anyone in town and I thought we might be friends.”
“No, thank you,” Susanne replied, her voice impersonal and polite as though she were refusing a biscuit at dinner.
“Susanne, wait, please.”
“Goodbye,” Susanne said, and closed the door.
Lacey refused to be discouraged. Befriending Susanne had become a goal, a mountain to be climbed, an obstacle to be overcome, and she was determined not to give up. Besides, it gave her something to do. Nights, she worked in the saloon with Matt. Days, they made love, or shopped, or tidied up their hotel room. Sometimes Matt went to the saloon during the afternoon to pass a few hours and gamble with his own money. It was during those times that Lacey made her way to J.J. Tucker’s house.
Susanne always opened the door, but she never invited Lacey inside, and she rarely spoke to her for more than a minute or two. Still, Lacey thought she was making progress.
She had visited Susanne four times in two weeks and was again standing on the front porch the day Susanne opened the front door and invited her into the house.
Pleased and flustered at this unexpected turn of events, Lacey stepped into the hall. It was a lovely house. The floors were hardwood, polished to a high shine. The walls were covered with pale blue paper. The furniture was of fine mahogany upholstered in a deep blue damask woven with a delicate gold thread. Paintings and mirrors hung from the walls, suspended by silken cords.
Susanne led the way into the parlor. “Please be seated,” she invited. She took a place on the sofa and indicated Lacey should sit beside her. “You are the first guest I’ve received in over a year,” she mused.
Lacey smiled, uncertain of what to say.
“May I offer you a cup of tea?”
“Thank you, I’d like that.”
Lacey tried not to stare at Susanne, but the woman was quite lovely. Her skin was very pale, her eyes large and emerald green. Her hair was the same shade of brown as Tucker’s and she wore it tied in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. Her face was heart-shaped and delicate, the nose and mouth finely sculpted, her eyebrows and lashes very dark against the translucent skin. Her hands were small and dainty, graceful as she poured tea into two china cups. Her dress, high-necked and long-sleeved, was of black silk.
“So,” Susanne said in that soft raspy voice, “tell me about yourself.”
“I hardly know where to begin,” Lacey said, and for the next hour she told Susanne of her childhood, of her father’s reaction to her mother’s death, of how she had saved Matt’s life and fallen deeply in love with him. She did not mention that Matt’s real last name was Drago, or that he had been in town before.
Susanne’s green eyes were sad when Lacey finished her story. “I was in love like that once,” she said wistfully. “Perhaps J.J. told you.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I tried to imagine what my life would be like without Matt, and that’s why I came here. To tell you that you can’t just give up. Life is too precious, too fleeting, to be wasted.”
Susanne shrugged slightly, her eyes growing moist with unshed tears. “I know that what you say is true, and I’ve told myself the same thing many, many times, but I just can’t face the world without him.” Susanne stood up, small and wraithlike in the severe black dress. “I’m a little weary now, Lacey. Thank you for coming. I enjoyed our talk.”
Lacey stood up. Impulsively she placed her hand on Susanne’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Please don’t stay shut up in this house any longer, Susanne. It’s such a waste. You’re a lovely woman. I’m sure you have much to give to others.”
Slowly Susanne shook her head. “I have nothing left inside,” she answered sadly. “Billy took everything with him when he died.” She placed her hand over Lacey’s. “Please don’t come here again. It’s too painful.”
“I’m sorry, Susanne,” Lacey said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. I hope you’ll think of me as a friend. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Thank you, Lacey,” Susanne murmured. “Goodbye.”
At home that night, secure in the warm circle of Matt’s arms, Lacey told him of her latest encounter with J.J. Tucker’s sister.
“She sounds a little loony to me,” Matt remarked.
“She’s not! She’s just sad and lonely. I wish there was something I could do to help her, something I could say to bring her out of herself.”
“You tried,” Matt said, his fingers running lightly over Lacey’s arm and shoulder. “You’re the only one she’s let into that house in over a year. I’d call that something.”
“I guess.” Lacey gazed into Matt’s dark blue eyes and felt a wave of tenderness engulf her. And suddenly she needed him, needed to feel his strength, to bask in his love, to know that he was hers, that he would always be hers. “Love me, Matt,” she whispered. “Love me and don’t ever stop.”
He seemed to know what she was feeling. He made love to her tenderly, telling her with each kiss and caress that he loved her, would always love her.
Chapter Thirteen
“So,” J.J. Tucker said, nodding, “you let her in.”
“Yes,” Susanne replied. “She’s very nice, J.J.”
Tucker nodded
again. Nice was not the word he would have used to describe Lacey Walker. Beautiful, alluring, provocative, desirable. Those were the words that came to mind when he thought of her, and lately he thought of little else.
“They’re very much in love,” Susanne remarked. “I see them sometimes, strolling by the house. I’ve seen the way Lacey’s husband looks at her, the same way my Billy looks at me.”
Tucker shook his head irritably. “Billy is dead, Susanne. It’s time you got on with your own life.”
“Don’t say that!” Susanne shrieked. “Don’t say that word. Don’t ever say it!”
“I’m sorry,” Tucker said quickly. “Forgive me.”
He cursed under his breath as tears spilled down his sister’s cheeks and great, racking sobs shook her body. It wasn’t natural for a woman to grieve over a beau for so long. Why couldn’t Susanne accept the fact that Billy was dead and get on with her life? How long was she going to hide inside the house, refusing to see people, refusing to face reality? Guilt gnawed at J.J.’s soul. If only he’d been more patient. If only he hadn’t lost his temper…
Tenderly J.J. took Susanne in his arms and patted her back. Susanne was the only person in the world he had ever cared about, the only decent thing in his life, and he had almost destroyed her.
He held her until she was calm, then helped her up the stairs to her room. He turned his back while she got ready for bed, then sat beside her, holding her hand until she fell asleep.
There was a lively crowd in the Black Horse Saloon when J.J. arrived, and he smiled, pleased. He would rake in a bundle tonight, he mused. His eyes drifted around the room. Matt was dealing poker to four men at a table in the back of the room. A heavy blue-gray smoke haze hung over the table; mere was a large pile of currency in the pot. Again, Tucker felt a sense of wonder as he watched Matt shuffle the deck. The man was amazing, truly amazing. His fingers were nimble and quick as he dealt the cards.
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