LaceysWay

by Madeline Baker

  Feeling weary and discouraged, Lacey curled up on the sofa and drifted to sleep.

  Tucker was whistling softly when he left his office. Along about eight, the saloon began to fill and he moved from table to table, taking time to exchange a few words with his regular customers, pausing at the gaming tables to make sure everything was as it should be.

  A short time later Toby Pitman entered, followed by the sheriff. Tucker frowned. Henderson never set foot in the Black Horse except when making his nightly rounds or to make an arrest.

  “Evening, Sheriff,” Tucker said pleasantly. He glanced pointedly at the bandage swathed around Pitman’s head, saw the warning in his eyes. “Anything wrong?”

  “I’ll say,” Henderson replied tersely. “I just rode into town a few minutes ago. Been out checking on a complaint over by the Double L. Anyway, Pitman here identified your new dealer as Matt Drago.”

  Tucker’s eyebrows shot up as he lost his usually placid expression in surprise. “Drago! The man who killed Billy?”

  “One and the same,” the sheriff said.

  “Well, he’s not here,” Tucker said. “See for yourself.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Pitman had him dead to rights, but Drago managed to get away. We’ve checked the livery. His horse is still there, so we figure he’s holed up in town somewheres.”

  Tucker nodded. “Like I said, he’s not here, but you’re free to look around.”

  “Obliged,” Henderson said, and spent the next ten minutes poking into the rooms upstairs, which caused considerable annoyance to several men seeking some female companionship from the saloon girls.

  Tucker stood at the bar, his foot on the rail, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. He didn’t object when Henderson asked to take a look in his office, although he knew it would be hard to explain what Lacey was doing there.

  The lawman threw J.J. an amused look when he saw Lacey asleep on Tucker’s sofa. “So,” he said, closing the door, “that’s the way it is.”

  “Don’t go jumping to any conclusions, Sheriff,” Tucker warned. “She was upset about her husband’s disappearance, that’s all. She came to me for help, and I let her take the night off. That’s all.”

  “Makes no never mind to me,” Henderson replied with a nasty smirk. “I want that murderin’ bastard behind bars. I don’t care what his wife does, or who she does it with.”

  “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m sure of that,” Henderson said with a knowing grin. “I’m damn sure of that.”

  “Bastard,” Tucker muttered under his breath as Henderson moved away. He watched the lawman leave the saloon, then turned hard green eyes on Pitman. “Spit it out, Toby. What the hell happened?”

  Pitman shrugged. “I had him tied up, and then somebody hit me from behind.” Toby lifted a hand to his head. “Whoever it was knocked me out cold. When I came to, I was at the doc’s and he was patching me up. He gave me something to make me sleep. I came here as soon as I woke up.”

  “Where’s Tanner?”

  “Looking for Drago.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me first?”

  “I wanted to make sure my hunch was right before I said anything to you.”

  “You damn fool. Now we’ve lost him.” Tucker fixed Pitman with a piercing stare. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

  “Of course not,” Pitman said quickly.

  Tucker nodded. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see your face again until Matt Drago is behind bars. You got that?”

  “Yessir.”

  Tucker rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, his eyes as cold as glacier ice. Pitman had made one mistake too many.

  Lacey was sitting up when J.J. Tucker entered his office a few moments later. Her eyes were a little puffy, her hair tousled. He thought she had never looked lovelier, or been more vulnerable.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  Lacey nodded. She hadn’t eaten since the night before.

  “Good. I ordered dinner about twenty minutes ago. It should be here soon. Would you care for a drink? Some sherry, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you.” She was suddenly aware of being alone in J.J.’s office. What would Matt think if he found out? She could feel Tucker’s eyes watching her and she shivered, unaccountably troubled by the expression in his icy green eyes. She felt suddenly like a mouse being stalked by a cat. She swallowed hard as J.J. sat down on the sofa and took her hand in his. Gently he massaged the back of her hand with his thumb, marveling at its softness. Yes, she was vulnerable now, he thought, and the idea filled him with excitement, like a hunter about to close in for the kill.

  “The sheriff was here a while ago,” he remarked. “He knows who Matt is.”

  Fear knotted in Lacey’s throat and clawed at her belly, making speech impossible. She could only stare at J.J., her eyes wide with disbelief as her worst fears came true.

  J.J. patted her hand sympathetically. “They haven’t caught him. Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “Didn’t he?”

  “No.”

  J.J. shrugged. “Three men took the stand and swore he was guilty.”

  “They lied,” Lacey said, her eyes begging him to believe her.

  “Maybe,” J.J. mused. “And maybe Matt Drago’s lying when he says he’s innocent.”

  Lacey frowned. Was Matt lying? Was it possible he was guilty?

  “Is there anything I can do?” J.J. asked solicitously.

  “No.” Her voice was like broken glass, cracked and filled with pain.

  “Would you like to stay here tonight?”

  “I couldn’t,” Lacey said. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  Tucker nodded, his eyes warm with understanding. Inwardly he was amused. It wouldn’t be proper for her to spend the night in his office, yet she didn’t seem to mind working in the saloon. Strange, the workings of the female mind.

  There was a knock at the door, and a waiter from the hotel dining room entered J.J.’s office. His face was impassive as he spread a cloth on J.J.’s desk and laid out a meal fit for a king.

  Lacey picked at her food, not tasting anything. The sheriff knew who Matt was. It was just a matter of time before Matt was found and arrested again. The long journey back to Salt Creek, the argument they’d had the night before, it had all been for nothing.

  “Lacey?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, laying her fork aside. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”

  “I understand,” J.J. assured her. “Come, let me walk you home.”

  Lacey nodded and J.J. stood up. Taking his coat, he draped it over her shoulders, then took her arm and escorted her back to the hotel.

  He took his leave of her in the lobby, at Lacey’s request. “Send for me if you need me,” J.J. said. “Any time, day or night.” He took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

  “I will.”

  “I’ll look in on you in the morning.”

  “Thank you, J.J. You’ve been very kind.”

  “Only concerned,” he said, and, leaning forward, he brushed his lips against the back of her hand. “Try not to worry.”

  Lacey nodded. Climbing the stairs to her room, she stepped inside and closed the door. How empty and dark the room was, she thought bleakly, as empty and dark as the pain in her heart.

  She stood there for a long time letting the tears fall, until sobs racked her body and she fell across the bed, hurting more than she had ever hurt in her life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matt regained consciousness a layer at a time, hearing footsteps moving around upstairs, feeling the dull ache in his arm, tasting the whiskey that lay heavy in his belly. The basement smelled of dampness and decay.

  Opening his eyes, he saw only darkness, and he wondered how long he had been out. He’d fainted when Susanne set his arm. Glancing at it now, he saw that his arm was neatly splinted and swathed in a thick bandage, a ghostly splash of white in
the darkness that surrounded him.

  His muscles tensed as the basement door opened and he heard someone coming down the stairs. He breathed a sigh of sweet relief when he saw it was Susanne. She carried a kerosene lamp in one hand and a covered basket in the other.

  “I brought you something to eat,” she said, smiling shyly. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  He wasn’t, but he said he was just to please her. After all, she’d gone to a lot of trouble on his behalf and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “How long have I been unconscious?” Matt asked as she lifted a plate of steak and fried potatoes from the basket and placed it on the floor beside him.

  “All day,” Susanne answered. “I’ve been so worried.”

  “All day? What time is it now?”

  “Almost ten.”

  Matt swore softly, and the mild oath brought a flush of embarrassment to Susanne’s cheeks. “Sorry,” Matt muttered.

  Susanne nodded, bending her head over the plate to hide her embarrassment. With graceful movements, she cut the steak into bite-sized pieces so he could manage it. She had thought, because of his broken arm, that she might offer to feed him, but she knew instinctively that he would not appreciate being treated like an invalid. Instead she pushed the closer to him and handed him the fork.

  “Thanks,” Matt said.

  Susanne nodded. Tucking her skirts around her ankles, she sat there, quiet and thoughtful, while he ate. He was such a big man. His skin was dark, his eyes the color of the sky at night. His hands were big, the fingers long and capable. She glanced at her own hands, small and delicate and as pale as cream, and then looked at his again, trying to imagine what it would be like to feel his hands on her face. She felt a secret longing to reach out and stroke his cheek, to smooth the lines of pain from his brow and erase the worry from his eyes. She didn’t, of course. He was Lacey’s husband, a stranger Susanne had taken in out of pity because he was hurt, and out of friendship for the woman who had wanted to be her friend.

  “You’re a good cook,” Matt remarked as he laid the fork aside. His eyes held hers, and a slow smile spread across his face. “I haven’t thanked you for your help.”

  “It isn’t necessary.”

  “The hell it isn’t,” he retorted, and then grinned. “Sorry. I guess working in that saloon has made me forget how to talk around decent people.”

  “It’s all right,” Susanne assured him with a rueful grin. “J.J. swears occasionally, too.” She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable beneath his unwavering eyes. Life was so unfair, she thought sadly. She had locked herself away from the world, certain she had nothing to live for, certain she would never again find a man she could love. Now Matt was here, and she knew that, with very little effort, she could love him. He was tall and strong and handsome, soft-spoken and good-hearted, everything Billy had been. Indeed, he reminded her of Billy in many ways.

  Matt shifted his position on the stone floor, grunting softly as a twinge of pain went through his broken arm.

  “Are you all right?” Susanne asked.

  “Yeah. You did a nice job setting my arm. I’m obliged to you.”

  Susanne basked in the glow of his approval. His smile was warm and friendly, and a rush of envy went through her as she thought of how lucky Lacey was to have such a man for her husband.

  “I’d better go,” Susanne said.

  “I wish you’d stay,” Matt said. “It’s lonely down here.”

  “Very well.” She settled her skirts around her ankles once more and folded her hands in her lap. J.J. wouldn’t be home for hours. “Shall we talk?”

  “Sure.”

  “About what?” Susanne asked, smiling up at him.

  “You,” Matt said, returning her smile. “Tell me about you. What are you doing buried in a big old house like this?”

  Had anyone else dared ask such a question, she would have refused to answer. But she could tell Matt because he would understand. “My parents died when I was very young,” Susanne began, her voice soft and wistful. “J.J. raised me. We lived back East until I was fourteen, and then J.J. decided to move West. There was a fortune to be made out here, he said, and he wanted his share. For a while he searched for gold, but it was hard work and he never found more than a handful of dust in two years, so we left California and started back East. When we reached Salt Creek, J.J. met a man and they went into business together. I don’t know exactly what it was. Something to do with guns, I think. Anyway, J.J. made a lot of money and he built the saloon, and he’s done very well. I met Billy here…”

  Susanne’s voice trailed off and she stared at Matt as if seeing him for the first time. Why was she talking to this man—this murderer?

  “Why?” she cried, her voice suddenly filled with anguish. “Why did you kill him? He was so good to me. He loved me. Why?”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Matt said forcefully. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  “J.J. said you did,” Susanne sobbed. “J.J.’s never lied to me.”

  “Susanne, listen to me.” He put his hand on her forearm and gave it a squeeze. “Listen to me! I didn’t kill him. I swear it. But I know who did.”

  Susanne blinked back her tears. She gazed into Matt’s eyes and knew he was telling the truth.

  “Who was it?” she asked. “Who killed my Billy?”

  “It was Pitman.”

  “Toby? Why would he kill Billy?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I can promise you that.” Matt frowned. “What happened to J.J.’s business partner?”

  “Someone stabbed him in the back. They found his body floating face down in the river.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “I don’t know. Just before J.J. built the saloon, I think. I don’t remember.” She looked at Matt candidly. “The people in town think I’m crazy,” she said. “Do you?”

  The question took Matt by surprise. One minute she was torn up with grief, and the next she was asking if he thought she was crazy. Maybe she was.

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” he answered slowly. “But I think you’ve grieved long enough. You’re much too pretty and too young to stay locked up inside this place.”

  Susanne smiled, pleased by his words. “Do you really think I’m pretty?” she asked shyly. J.J. always said so, but he was her brother and didn’t count.

  “You’re more than pretty,” Matt said, meaning it. “I’d court you myself if I wasn’t a married man.”

  “Really?” Her cheeks grew rosy with the pleasure of his compliment.

  “Really. Don’t hide yourself from the world, Susanne. You should have a man to love you, children, a life with some meaning, some happiness.”

  “Yes,” Susanne said slowly. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  And perhaps he was, she mused thoughtfully. Perhaps she had spent enough time grieving for what might have been. Billy was gone, and he was never coming back. Perhaps, somewhere, she might find another man to love. A man like Matt Drago.

  “It’s getting late,” she said. “I’d better go before J.J. comes home.”

  Matt nodded. “Thanks again, Susanne.”

  She smiled at him, wishing she had the nerve to kiss him good night. Instead she picked up the plate and utensils and placed them in the basket. “Sleep well,” she said softly and made her way up the stairs, her long skirts swishing softly behind her.

  Matt sat there for a long time, his thoughts glum. He wondered how Lacey was getting along, and what she was thinking. He wanted desperately to send her a message, to assure her that he hadn’t abandoned her and hadn’t meant the terrible things he’d said. But such a move would be unwise. Messages could be intercepted. Pitman might be watching her, waiting for Lacey to lead him to Matt.

  Pitman. Matt rubbed his jaw where Pitman had struck him. It was sore, tender to the touch. He was certain now that Toby Pitman had killed Billy Henderson. As soon as his arm healed, he would find a way to prove it. Once that was done,
Matt’s life would be his own again. He would take Lacey and go to Kansas and they would settle down and make a good life together.

  But first he had to clear his name.

  Susanne was happy in the next two days, happier than she had been since Billy died. She had a reason to live, someone to care for. Someone to love. She knew that Matt could never be hers, that he belonged to Lacey, but she spent hours daydreaming of what it would be like to be his wife. Knowing it was impossible, she fantasized that somehow she could keep Matt in the basement forever, that she could make him love her.

  She took care with her appearance and discarded her black silk dresses in favor of soft blues and greens. Her gowns were out of style now, but they suited her complexion and figure, and Matt complimented her telling her she was as pretty as the flowers that bloomed in the mountains. They spent a lot of time talking of unimportant things, and Susanna felt her grief and unhappiness melt away under the genuine affection that Matt felt for her.

  She cooked elaborate meals and served them on her finest china and crystal. She prepared fancy desserts, brought him J.J.s finest cigars and most expensive whiskey. And dreamed her girlish dreams. J.J. Tucker, too, was not unaware of sudden change in Susanne’s behavior. She was taking an interest in life again, singing as she cooked his meals. Rich desserts began cropping up in the kitchen, their best china came out of the cupboard, her mourning clothes were replaced by bright cottons and gaily printed silks. She smiled all the time her eyes bright and alive, her laughter again filling the house. His sister was in love. And Matt Drago was still missing.

  Susanne stared at her brother, her eyes wide, her lips white. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “Am I?” J.J. asked. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes riveted on his sister’s face.

  “Of course.” Susanne stood up. Her hands, hidden in the folds of her blue linen skirt, were tightly clenched. “I’m going up to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Where is he, Susanne?” J.J. demanded angrily. “I know you’re hiding him somewhere in the house. Where? Your room or the basement?”