Branded (27 page)

Though the men appreciated Slade's attempt at humor, Grady chose to ignore it. He removed his gold pocket watch and flipped open the lid. "It so happens, I will be spending the day alone with my betrothed. I'm taking her on a picnic down by the creek." He tucked the watch neatly back into his vest pocket. His comment had quieted the room, and all eyes were turned to Slade.

"Now, that is convenient," Dix said with a gleam in his eye. "We won’t be but a stone’s throw from there. Maybe, you’ll change your mind and come help us tamp down a post or two."

"Don’t hold your breath," Grady said.

For the first time that morning, Lacey met Slade’s eyes. His gaze was hard and questioning.

"I'm sorry, Grady, but I can’t join you today. I promised Slade that I'd help Tait with the horses." Unbelievable. She'd spent the morning thinking up a myriad of foolproof excuses and then blurted out the first stupid thing that came to her mind. The most she could do for the horses is clean their hooves and brush their coats.

Grady glanced sideways at her for a moment before picking up his fork and taking a bite of his eggs. With manners completely rare for that table, he lifted his napkin and dabbed at his perfectly trimmed mustache. "Don't be ridiculous, dear. Tait doesn't need you underfoot. Do you, Tait?"

Lacey winced. Underfoot? Grady made her feel like a doltish child.

Tait shoveled a fork full of food into his mouth so he wouldn't have to answer.

Lacey looked to Slade with a silent plea. He pushed himself away from the table, slamming the chair into the wall. He picked up his hat and jammed it low over his brow. He peered at her from beneath the brim for a good long time.

"Don't worry about the horses," he said far too quietly. "You be sure to have yourself a good time." He pushed open the kitchen door and never looked back.

Here she was heartsick over him, and he was treating her as though she were a complete stranger.

Dora, suddenly a little less cheerful, placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Surely, her face must have given her away. It was getting too hard to hide the hurt. Thankfully, Grady was so absorbed in his own affairs, he hadn’t seemed to notice.

"Why don't you go on now and spend the rest of the morning getting prettied up. I'll take care of packing the food," he said.

Lacey forced herself to smile at Grady as she left the room.

Lacey waited for Grady to bring the wagon around. She was wearing the same calico dress she’d had on this morning. She’d worn it so often, it was as soft as flannel. Dejected, she'd only bothered to wash her face, plait her hair into a single braid, and tie on a straw bonnet.

Grady looked completely wrong perched atop the rickety wagon. As she climbed aboard, Lacey could see the picnic basket, a checkered blanket, and a small bouquet of pink flowers in the wagon bed.

Give him a chance, she told herself. It wasn't but a few months ago that he was your hero. She glanced at his profile. Too groomed, she thought absurdly. Not long ago, he would have looked fine to her. She guessed that hanging around cowboys could change a woman's tastes for life. She had to admit, he was handsome. Only he didn't make her pulse quicken, not even a tiny bit. And he never had. If his brother were to come riding over now, dust-covered, sweat-soaked, with his hair at its shaggiest, her heart would set to racing.

"You look very pretty."

"Thank you," she said, feeling guilty now at not being more excited about the day ahead.

He prepared to snap the reins, and she placed a restraining hand atop his doeskin glove. "Not yet. Wait for Oliver." Oliver had stopped to sniff at something in the road. She snapped her fingers. "Come on, Oliver," she urged.

"You're not bringing that mangy beast with us on the picnic."

"I take Oliver wherever I go. You know that Grady." This was not entirely true. She hadn't taken him with her on the round-up. "What have you against him, of a sudden? You never complained when you arranged for his transport."

"I did it to please you." He cast her a sideways glance. "Do you have any idea, how much extra it cost me to send that massive animal to the states?" he groused. "There's no place for a dog like that here on the ranch."

"But Oliver loves it here. He follows Slade--"

Grady put his hand up to halt her speech. "I don't want to hear about it. We're leaving the animal here."

Now that their marriage was imminent, it seemed, pleasing her was no longer as important. "You'll have to go on your picnic alone then because I'm not leaving without Oliver." She swivelled on her seat ready to clamber down.

His hand wrapped around her wrist holding her fast. "Your father spoiled you, my dear, by giving you too much freedom. Not all men are like your father." She attempted to tug her wrist free. He heaved a frustrated sigh. "Fine, stay seated. I'll get the darn dog."

They rode in silence for most of the trip, and she was grateful. They rarely had anything to say to each other. She’d been so desperate to get away from Arthur Widstaff, she hadn't even considered Grady's feelings when she’d agreed to marry him. The whole thing had started as a business deal for Grady, and she happened to come along with the package. Perhaps, he thought she’d make a presentable hostess. And her dowry had, of course, sweetened the deal.

She didn’t think she had the fortitude to settle for a distant, loveless marriage like her mother had. It suddenly struck her, she wanted it all a marriage, a home, ... and love. Maybe, she could convince him they'd been too hasty, that the engagement had been a mistake. And if he was glad for the reprieve, what then would she do with herself? Certainly, Slade had never suggested marriage. Could she live by her skill with the needle, she wondered?

She glanced back at Oliver, who had made himself comfortable atop the checkered blanket and was pillowing his head on the pink flowers. She knew enough of Grady to know, he wouldn't be pleased with dog hairs all over his trousers.

They rolled along the dirt road, which traced the eastern perimeter of the ranch.

"Nothing but acres of grass, weeds, and cow dung," Grady said with obvious disgust.

"I think it's beautiful out here."

"It's easy to appreciate a place when you're just visiting." He laughed. "If you had to live here for years, you'd learn to despise it. There's nothing beautiful about it. Don't understand why Slade’s even bothering with this place."

"This is his home."

"Too bad it took him ten long years to realize it," Grady responded with an odd smile. "Sometimes, you just can't get the time back," he added cryptically.

"'Tis a shame, the fences fell into such disrepair. You might not have lost your cattle."

"What makes you think I didn't let them go on purpose?"

Lacey glanced at him, certain he was jesting, but his expression was serious.

"I never wanted to run this cattle business in the first place. I had other plans for my life. I didn't think Slade would ever be coming back. At least not alive."

He said the last so matter-of-factly, one would think he didn't have a heart.

"Didn't you feel some responsibility to Dora and Tait to keep the ranch going?"

"I did, of course, I did," he insisted, but she wasn't convinced. "But once Slade joined up with the army, the whole blasted thing became my problem. It wasn't what I'd intended for myself. The Lazy Heart was my father's dream, not mine."

She remembered Slade explaining how he'd joined the army to escape the guilt of his father's death.

"Slade earned a captaincy a few years after enlisting." Grady offered the information, though she hadn't spoken. "Probably one of the youngest officers in the Union army." If she hadn't heard the way he'd said it, she might almost think he was bragging about his brother. But his tone was that of a man holding a hard-bitten grudge.

"There's never been any love lost between Slade and I. Everyone knows it."

He looked at her for a moment, seeming to scrutinize her face for a reaction. She could tell by the way he smoothed his mustache, a sign she'd come to read as irritation, that he was not pleased by what he saw. Was it possible, he had noticed her reactions to Slade and the obvious tension between them? He turned his profile to her again and flicked the reins, urging the horses to pick up their pace.

"Once we've settled in Boston, I'm never setting foot on this piece of property again."

"I've grown rather fond of Colorado," she said, hating how pitiful she sounded.

"Then you can grow fond of Massachusetts, as well."

Yes, she thought. She could grow fond of any place as long as Slade Dalton was at her side. "But the Lazy Heart--"

"It's useless to discuss the ranch any further. It's a lost cause." Grady reached down and patted her on the knee. She stiffened. "Dora went to an awful lot of trouble. Let's enjoy the beautiful day."

Lacey looked toward the graying horizon. "Looks like it could rain," she said darkly. She was starting to feel as though she would be attending a funeral and not a picnic.

"A little summer shower. That's all. Besides, we're nearly at the creek. I think that's where we'll set down our blanket."

Lacey felt like crying when she saw how much trouble Dora had gone to for this outing. There were bowls of fried chicken, plates of deviled eggs, and molasses cookies the size of a person's fist. Lacey had to force herself to take even the tiniest nibble.

Grady was lying on his side atop the blanket eating a drumstick. Though, he pulled his lips back a bit to avoid getting grease on his mustache, he still patted his mouth after every bite.

"Dora's told me about your wedding dress. Sounds like you've gone to an awful lot of trouble. I wish you'd purchased a ready-to-wear. We'd be married much sooner if you had."

And that, Lacey thought, was exactly why she hadn't.

"Besides, the rustics in this town wouldn't recognize a stylish gown if they saw one," he added in a scornful tone.

"A woman wants to wear something special on her big day. The shop in town had a sad selection of cast-off gowns."

She peeled off pieces of chicken and fed them to Oliver. Grady wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I still have some beadwork to complete, and Dora has to help me with the hem. It may take me a few more weeks to finish."

"I'm prepared to give you a week," he said with finality. The pleading words died on her tongue.

Lacey chided herself for a coward. This was probably the perfect opportunity to break off the engagement. But she still struggled with the fear of being cast out. Stuck in the middle of the Colorado Territory with no family and no funds. She needed to come up with a sensible plan. A way to get out of this whole situation without ending up destitute.

Grady filled a small glass jar with elderberry wine and offered it to her. She took a sip, but she didn't think the wine would relieve the hollowness in her stomach.

Grady stretched himself out. He rested his derby on his chest and stacked his hands behind his head. He looked contented, and, thankfully, no longer in the mood to talk.

Lacey smiled to herself. She was actually imagining that she heard the men pounding down posts in the near distance. Dix had mentioned they would be working the fencing near the creek. At the time, she’d thought he’d only said it to taunt Grady.

She supposed, she wanted to imagine Slade following her here because he was jealous of her spending time alone with Grady. A silly thought. She was sure she'd completely imagined that the tone he'd used, when he told her to have a good time, was his ominously calm one. The one he used when he was truly angry.

The phantom sound of hammering continued to echo in her head. She recalled the last few times he'd gone out to the grazing pastures when he'd asked her to ride along. She certainly couldn't have been much help to him, she'd done little more than fetch him tools.

Trickles of cool rain brought her out of her reverie. "Maybe we should head back." she said with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Some of those clouds look fairly threatening."

"I suppose you're right," Grady said reluctantly.

He savored the last of the wine in his glass as Lacey tucked the leftovers back into the basket.

With the first crack of lightning, Oliver decided it was the perfect time to dash through the stream to chase a squirrel on the other side. Lacey called to him. He didn't even look back. Oliver found birds and squirrels infinitely fascinating. Fortunately, for the creatures, he was far too slow to ever catch one. Even if he were lucky enough to come face to face with his prey, he'd probably only give it a few nuzzles with his nose.

"Well-trained animal," Grady said in his most refined, sarcastic drawl.

Lacey leapt up, lifted her skirts above her ankles and raced after him. At the bank of the creek, her feet slipped, and she nearly slid down the muddy slope. She used a tree root for support and lowered herself to the creek, stepping gingerly on a rock at the water's edge. There was a convenient path of stones she could balance on to make it to the other side. She figured, if she were careful, she wouldn't even get her dress wet. Although, with the rain beating steadily on her shoulders, what difference would it make if she got her hem soaked?

Her normally lethargic hound had a surprising amount of energy today. He was loping across a field, and the squirrel was losing ground.

"Leave him. He'll find his way home," Grady hollered across the creek. "Everything is getting soaked, Lacey."

The pleasant summer shower Grady had reassured her of was quickly becoming a torrential rain. Runnels of water were flowing off the brim of her hat. She watched as the squirrel scurried to safety up a tree. Oliver thoroughly snuffled around the base of the trunk.

"Get over here, you naughty dog," she said. He gave the tree one more whiff before bounding back to her. He waited until he was right beside her before shaking the water off his fur.

"Oh, Oliver, you silly hound." She took hold of his collar and started leading him back.

"Lacey, dammit, hurry! The creek is rising!"