He whistled a lively tune as he strolled home and inside the house. He left his hat hanging on the hall tree and shrugged out of the suit coat as he started up the stairs.
“Grant? Grant, dear? Is that you?” His mother called from the library.
Briefly, he considered ignoring her. Instead, he took the stairs back to the landing in two long strides and stepped into the library.
His mother sat in a side chair with a box of chocolates on the table beside her and a book in her hand. For someone who claimed to have one foot in the grave, she appeared unreasonably healthy with pink cheeks and bright eyes.
“Yes, Mother? Did you need something?” Grant tossed his suit coat over the back of a nearby chair and loosened his tie.
“What are you doing home? Your customers will worry if the bank closes early. It could set off a panic and then…”
Grant cut off her tirade with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Loren is closing the bank, Mother. I assure you, my customers won’t head into a full-fledged panic to find the bank closed a little early from time to time.” Grant eyed the candy and snatched a piece, popping it into his mouth. He wondered if Imogene had gone shopping or sent Betty to fetch the candy. Most likely, Betty had been running errands for Imogene since the only two places his mother liked to venture in town were Ilsa’s dress shop and Caterina’s restaurant. “What did you need, Mother?”
“Nothing, I just… I wanted…” Imogene sighed and set aside her book, patting the seat of the chair next to her. “Please, Grant. Will you spend the evening with me? I promise not to discuss anything unpleasant. Perhaps we could go to Mrs. Rawling’s restaurant for dinner. I haven’t had any good Italian food since the last time I was here. You’d think someone in the cities where your sisters live could make a decent lasagna.”
“As nice as that sounds, Mother, we’ll have to plan on it another time. I promised to help a friend with a delivery this evening and need to meet them soon.” Grant unbuttoned his vest, eager to change and be on his way.
“Why must you behave like a common laborer? Surely your friend understands a man of your station shouldn’t be doing such things as helping with a delivery. It’s not that cheeky Tony Campanelli is it?”
Grant glowered at Imogene, biting his tongue to keep from saying something that would only enrage her. “When a friend asks for my help, Mother, I give it. I don’t ask them if the task is beneath my so-called dignity. If it’s good enough for my friends, it’s good enough for me. Don’t wait up for me and enjoy your evening.”
His mother’s indignant huff followed him out of the library and up the stairs. Quickly changing into a pair of denims, a cotton work shirt, and a plain vest, he stomped his feet into a pair of boots. In a rush, he clattered down the back stairs to the kitchen. He grabbed a dusty cowboy hat from a peg by the back door and snatched a handful of cookies from a jar on the counter. Betty glanced up at him as she walked into the room. He tipped his hat and gave her a jaunty grin before jogging out the door and to the barn.
As he saddled Drew, he thought about Betty. She’d been his mother’s faithful servant for years. He wondered how the soft-spoken woman handled his mother. Then again, Imogene seemed to hold a genuine affection for the girl that belied her normal treatment of those she deemed part of the “serving” class.
Betty took care of Imogene’s multitude of daily needs, and could cook when necessary. He never minded Betty coming to visit because she kept his kitchen stocked with goodies and made tasty meals if requested. Although he felt sorry for the woman, stuck as she was caring for his demanding mother, the two of them seemed to get along well enough.
When his mother’s three months of visiting ended, Grant always gave Betty a bonus. The money was his way of thanking her for the kind and caring attention she provided to his prickly mother and keeping cookies on hand in the kitchen.
Drew shook his head and tossed his mane as Grant swung into the saddle and urged him into the heart of town. He turned down a side street before he reached downtown and guided the horse to Tony and Ilsa’s place.
It took him just a few moments to saddle Star and lead the two horses to Ilsa’s shop. Swiftly tying their reins to the iron ring in front of the store, he walked inside and glanced around. He’d hoped to return in time to walk Lacy home from work, but the conversation with his mother made him later than he planned.
Ilsa stepped out from her workroom and smiled at him. Laila ran after her. When she noticed Grant by the door, the toddler rushed over to him and held up her arms.
He swung her up and kissed her rosy cheek. “How’s Miss Laila today?”
“Good.” The child traced a chubby little finger over the buttons on his shirt. “Go wif Wacy?” she asked as Grant smiled at her.
“Yes, I am. Is that okay with you?”
“Yep! Me go, Mama? Kay?” Laila nodded her head encouragingly at her mother.
Ilsa reached out and took Laila from Grant. “No, that is not okay. You weren’t invited for one thing. It’s almost dinner time, and you don’t need to be out late young lady.”
“Wanna go!” Laila patted her mother’s cheeks. “Pwease?”
Hiding a grin at how adorable her daughter looked as she pleaded, Ilsa shook her head. “Not today, sweetheart. Now, go get your dolly. It’s time for us to go home. Daddy promised to have dinner ready when we get there.”
Ilsa set the toddler on her feet. She raced into the workroom and soon returned with a rag doll clutched in one hand.
“Go, Mama? I hungwy.” Laila pulled on Ilsa’s fingers, tugging her toward the front door.
“My, you’re getting awfully bossy, aren’t you? Tell Grant goodbye and then we’ll leave.” Ilsa smiled at her impish child.
Grant hunkered down and Laila ran over to him, giving him another hug. “Bye, Gwant.” The little one hastened to her mother’s side and began tugging on her hand again. “Bye!”
“Goodbye, Laila.” He waved to the child as Ilsa led her outside and down the sidewalk.
Entertained by the little girl, Grant walked into the workroom and took a seat on a stool at the worktable to wait for Lacy. The thought of what her child — their child — would look like drew him into his musings of a little girl with black hair and hazel eyes.
“From the look on your face, you’re thinking about something happy.” Lacy’s voice near his ear jolted him back to reality.
He turned his head and discovered her lips a breath of space away. The temptation proved more than he could bear, so he pulled her onto his lap and pressed his mouth to hers, hungry and full of longing.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he held her closer and deepened the kiss. Finally, she pushed against him and he relaxed his hold. She slid off his lap and onto her moccasin-clad feet.
Slowly surveying her from head to toe, he took in her leggings beneath a split skirt and a blouse she often wore when they went riding. She’d braided her hair, but fastened the ends with blue ribbons he’d given her rather than the leather strips she generally used to keep her braids from unraveling.
He touched his index finger to one of the ribbons and grinned. “Did you like your ribbons?”
Her eyes sparkled as she took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. “Very much. Thank you for another gift you shouldn’t have given to me.”
“I can’t see any harm in giving you a hair ribbon. None at all.” Grant wrapped his arms around her from behind as she carefully slid a paper-wrapped parcel into a saddlebag. He nuzzled her neck and felt her relax against him. “In fact, you shouldn’t deny me something I enjoy so much.”
Lacy laughed and turned around, looping her arms around his neck again. “I don’t see you lavishing gifts on any other woman around town.”
Grant kissed one cheek. “That’s because…” He kissed the other cheek. “I’m not interested…” A kiss landed on her nose. “In any other woman. Only you.”
His lips teased and taunted hers. She bracketed his face with her h
ands and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth that left them both breathless.
He tipped his head down until his forehead touched hers. “If we’re going out to see your grandmother, we better get to it.”
Lacy lazily opened her eyes. The smoldering look in her obsidian gaze forced Grant to take a wobbly step back against the worktable.
“I’m ready to go. I just need to saddle Star.” Lacy picked up the saddlebags and started to open the back door. Grant took the key she held in her hand and locked the door then escorted her to the front of the store. When he opened the door, she smiled to see Star and Drew waiting outside.
“Thank you for retrieving her. She enjoys spending time with Drew almost as much as I like to spend time with you.” Lacy meant her words too much to be embarrassed about speaking her thoughts. She did enjoy being with Grant and looked forward to every moment they could spend together.
“Do you want to eat before we go?” Grant glanced in the direction of Caterina’s restaurant down the street.
“Grandmother will have dinner ready. She sent a message into town this morning with some friends that she wanted me to come out and would have supper ready.” Lacy swung onto Star and guided her into the busy street.
“She won’t be expecting me. Should we stop at the mercantile and purchase some groceries?”
Lacy shook her head and grinned at him. “That won’t be necessary. Her exact message was, ‘Tell Ilsa I have the sash ready and need some more work. Bring your young man for dinner.’ I assume she meant you.”
Grant leaned toward her, keeping his face impassive. “Do you have more than one man you’d take to dinner?” Although he teased, his thoughts trailed to the Indian brave who clearly planned to make Lacy his own. “How do you know she meant me?”
Flirtatiously batting her eyelashes, she offered Grant a coquettish smile. “Haven’t you noticed the string of gentlemen callers lined up around the door? It’s hard to choose just one to focus my attention on, but you won, for today.”
Surprised by her teasing, Grant chuckled. “I’ll shove my way to the head of the line. Just watch and see if I don’t.”
Lacy grinned and clucked her tongue, urging Star into a canter as they left the edges of town behind them.
When they arrived at Rebecca’s a short while later, she greeted them with a warm smile and waved them inside. Fragrant steam rose from a bubbling pot of stew and a pan of golden cornbread sat on the table, hot from the oven.
An easy conversation flowed between them as they ate. After they finished supper and cleared away the dishes, Lacy took the work her grandmother had finished for Ilsa and wrapped it in a piece of brown paper. She removed two reticules and a piece of silk from her saddlebags for Rebecca to bead.
Grant made note of the setting sun and rose to his feet. “I suppose we better head back to town before it gets dark.”
“Lacy and Star could find their way on the blackest night, but it is safer to ride in the daylight,” Rebecca said, hugging Lacy and kissing her cheek before patting Grant on the arm. “You come visit me anytime, young man. I like you.”
Grant smiled. “I like you, too, Miss Rebecca. Thank you for a fine supper. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Rebecca walked them outside and watched as Lacy settled the saddlebags over Star’s back. She and Grant both mounted then waved at Rebecca one last time.
“Good night, Grandmother!”
“Goodbye, child.”
Grant rode quietly beside Lacy up a small hill back to the road that crossed through the reservation. They’d just reached it when a group of riders approached.
“Oh, no,” Lacy whispered, reining Star to stop in front of Grant.
“What’s wrong?” He kept his voice low and edged Drew around so he sat beside her with their legs almost brushing.
“Trouble.” Lacy again nudged Star forward. “Stay behind me and don’t talk if you don’t have to.”
Grant wished he’d taken time to buckle on his gun belt. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t have it on. He didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to jump into violence.
Irritated by Lacy’s attempts at protecting him, he decided he’d bow to her judgment, at least for the moment.
The riders rode in a circle around them, stirring up dust and Grant’s nerves. He recognized the man he’d seen the day he was at the tailor’s shop. An older man who bore a striking resemblance to Lacy’s brother, Walker, glared at him while the other three men in the group appeared impassive.
“Father. It is good to see you.” Lacy addressed the older man in her native tongue.
His gaze never wavered from Grant’s face as he spoke in the old language. “What are you doing here?”
Lacy motioned behind her, toward Rebecca’s place. “We rode out to see Grandmother.”
Joe Williams briefly nodded his head then pointed the rifle he carried in the direction of Grant. “What are you doing with the white man? Isn’t he one of the ice man’s friends?”
Many of the people on the reservation referred to Tony as the ice man due to his welcome summer deliveries.
“Yes, he is a friend of Tony’s, and a friend of mine.” Lacy glanced at Grant and smiled as she spoke. “He has a brave and good heart.”
“Isn’t he the money man? The thief that steals your grandmother’s money?”
Lacy bit back a sigh and forced herself not to roll her eyes. She and Walker had talked until they were out of both breath and patience trying to explain to their father how banks worked. Steadfast in his beliefs, he refused to listen. Joe decided people gave the white man their money and never saw it again. Therefore, he equated a banker with a crook or a trickster.
“Father, he…”
Joe held up a hand, motioning for Lacy to be silent then rode closer to Grant, studying the man with his daughter. Although his eyes held a hint of fear, they also held kindness. That annoyed Joe more than if they’d been beady and dishonest. He raised the gun toward the banker again. A flash of admiration filled him when Lacy’s friend didn’t flinch or waver.
“Your friend is not welcome here.” Joe never lifted his eyes from Grant’s face.
Lacy lifted her chin slightly. Defiantly. “Grandmother likes him.”
Joe frowned. “Your grandmother likes everyone.”
A snort to his left drew his attention to Phillip Redhawk. Rebecca didn’t like him and made no secret of it. While her dislike of the chief’s son humiliated Joe, it was the reason behind it that angered him. Rebecca encouraged her son to allow Lacy to find her own way instead of forcing her to follow a traditional path and wed Phillip.
Joe had allowed Lacy to have her way for far too long.
It resulted in his daughter living in town, pretending to be something she wasn’t, and filling Walker’s head with ridiculous ideas. A few weeks ago, he discovered the boy had a secret book full of drawings of buildings. Architecture, he called it. Joe tossed the book into the fire and lectured his son on where his nonsense would get him.
Truthfully, he didn’t care who Lacy married, as long as he lived on the reservation and held to their heritage. Phillip just happened to be the one insistent on making Lacy his wife.
Joe took a moment to study the way Lacy looked at Grant Hill, how the white man nodded to her reassuringly. Infuriated by the idea that they might be in love, he fought the urge to shoot the banker on the spot.
“Your friend may leave, but you will stay. It is time for you to come home, daughter.” Joe reached out to grab Star’s reins, but Lacy pulled back and the horse stepped out of his reach.
“I won’t stay, Father. I can’t stay. Please, let us go.” Lacy gave her father a pleading look he ignored.
“No. Send Grant Hill back to town, but you will stay if you want him to get there safely. You will come home with me.” Joe watched as Phillip circled behind Lacy and Grant, up to something, but he didn’t know what.
The hotheaded young man would get them all into trouble if he did
something to one of the whites while he visited the reservation. Covertly, he motioned the other three men to move away and tried to catch Phillip’s attention. His gaze remained riveted on Grant while hatred filled his eyes.
Without moving her head and barely moving her lips, Lacy pretended to shift in her saddle so she could get closer to Grant. “When I give the signal, be ready to ride for all you’re worth.”
Grant hid his surprise at her whispered words. He didn’t as much as blink when Phillip poked at him with the tip of the rifle he carried. He hoped the thing wasn’t loaded. From the deer carcass one of the group dragged behind his horse on some sort of improvised sled made of thin poles and branches, he assumed they’d been hunting.
“Leave him alone, Phillip.” Lacy spoke in English as she turned a cold glare to her would-be suitor. He ignored her and poked Grant again. She whipped her gaze to her father. “Please, Father? Do you think this would please Mother?”
Lacy knew any mention of her mother would distract her father. The second he dropped his gaze, she yelled, “Go!” and took off on Star with Grant right behind her. Phillip and one of the other men started to give chase, but Joe called them back.
“Leave them.” He watched his daughter ride over the crest of a hill then disappear from sight.
“We could catch them, bring her back.” Phillip was anxious to capture his bride-to-be and torment the man he’d seen with her numerous times. He’d even seen that filthy white put his lips on Lacy’s and hold her close. It sickened him to think of it.
“No. She has made her choice and is my daughter no more.” With a heavy heart, Joe turned his horse in the direction of home, burdened with guilt over what his beloved wife would say if she were there.
Despite his attempts to block her voice from his mind, he could hear it well. It chastised him, telling him to free Lacy and Walker from the bonds he tightened around them, lashing them to the past, to tradition.
He shook his head to chase away the thoughts and glanced up to find the others watching him.
With an angry scowl, he rode ahead, fighting his conflicting thoughts.
Lacy: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Pendleton Petticoats Book 5) Page 20