A Texan's Luck (17 page)

The corner of Walker's mouth lifted briefly as he gave a half salute.

The women said good-bye in the lobby. Walker offered his arm, and Lacy walked silently beside him. Any other time she would go with Nell to visit Carter and Bailee, but Walker wouldn't discuss the possibility. He didn't understand how dear Bailee was to Lacy. He'd probably never felt so close to anyone in his life.

Lacy decided being with Walker was lonelier than being alone. She'd given up hating him. She'd even stopped disliking him. Somehow over the past few days of his eternal politeness mixed with constant orders, she realized she felt nothing for him. He was a man without feeling, and he didn't deserve to be hated any more than an object did. He left home at seventeen, joined the army, and became a machine. He had no more heart than the printing press.

"Would you like me to carry you?" he asked, startling her from her thoughts.

"No, the ground is dry enough for me to walk without getting muddy."

They climbed the steps, remaining silent while he unlocked the apartment door. He stepped back, allowing her to enter, then followed her into the kitchen. As she had the nights before, Lacy tore a page from her tablet and dropped the number nineteen into the stove.

Walker watched her. "Am I really so intolerable?"

She looked up, surprised to find him staring at her. "I'm just used to having my time to myself."

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the doorjamb. "How can I make this easier on you, Lacy?" For once he sounded like he meant his words.

She smiled. "Eating out every night is nice. I've never had such a luxury."

He nodded. "I look forward to it, too. The food is far better than army mess."

Pressing her palm to her forehead, she tried to think of anything that might help the tension. She wasn't afraid of him. She knew he'd never hurt her, but having him forever near wore on her nerves. "Maybe if I knew you better, it would be easier to be friends."

Walker nodded. "I'm willing to try if it would keep you from jumping every time I step within three feet of you."

Lacy removed her coat and laid it over the back of her kitchen chair since he'd already used the only hook by the door. "We could start by having tea."

He grinned. "We could start by having coffee."

She put water on to boil. "How about one of each?"

He got the cups down, and she pinched tea into her cup. As soon as the water boiled, she filled her teacup, then dropped coffee into the remaining water.

She was halfway finished with her tea when the beans had boiled long enough for Walker to pour his coffee. He sat down across the tiny table from her and waited.

"Where do we start?" She sipped, letting the hot liquid warm her. In an odd way she felt she'd missed their talk at dinner with Nell there. Now seemed like a good time.

"I don't know." He leaned back in his chair. "We could set some ground rules, I guess, like we're playing a game."

She agreed. A game would be nice; otherwise it might sound like an interrogation. "How about I ask one question, any question, and you have to answer. Then you're allowed one question, but only one, and I have to answer."

"Fair enough. What subjects are off limits?"

"None," she answered.

"I accept the terms."

Lacy wanted to giggle. Though he acted as if he were negotiating a treaty, maybe this would work. They'd get to know one another better at least. There was no reason they couldn't be friends. "All right, something easy."

He waited.

"What is your favorite time of year?"

"Fall," he answered simply.

"But why—"

"Only one question. My turn."

She agreed with a nod.

"Why do you make quilts?"

"That's easy. My mother and grandmother quilted when I was little. When I first started working with your father, there wasn't a great deal to do, so I'd piece together scraps on slow days at the shop. By the time he moved up here with me, I had several tops that needed to be quilted. He gave me half a closet full of old blankets to use as the stuffings." She realized she hadn't answered the question. "It's like painting for me. I feel like I'm creating something no one else has ever made."

From his look she guessed she gave far more detail than needed. "My turn," she said. "Why did you join the army?"

Lacy watched him drink his coffee and guessed he was thinking about whether to tell her the truth. Finally, he said, "I loved another man's wife."

"Do you still?" That would explain so much. Why he didn't want to be married to her. Maybe if he couldn't have the woman he loved, he never wanted another for a wife. But how could he have loved another so young? He'd only been seventeen when he'd run away to join the army. Lacy frowned. This one question at a time thing wasn't going to work.

"The next question is mine," he answered. "Do you like running the shop?"

"Yes," Lacy answered simply. "Do you still love the other man's wife?"

"No," he said too quickly for it to be a lie.

They each took a drink. When he looked her straight in the eyes, she had the feeling they were no longer playing a game. "What happened the morning you met Zeb Whitaker?"

Lacy was up and moving. She made it halfway across the main room before his words stopped her. "Lacy, stop flying from reality and answer me."

"I don't want to."

"You agreed. You're the one who set the rules."

She couldn't bring herself to turn around. She didn't want to play the game anymore. Taking a long breath, she forced herself to calm. "All right. This mess has cost you a month of your life. I guess you've a right to know. Bailee, Sarah, and I were in a wagon heading south from Kansas. We'd been out of food for days when one morning a buffalo hunter came into our camp. He said he had to shoot his horse and wanted to buy our wagon. Bailee wouldn't sell. He reached in his saddlebags and produced a handful of gold, insisting that we agree. But it didn't matter how much money he had because if he took our wagon, we knew we'd be dead."

She heard Walker's boots tap the floor and knew he moved closer, but she didn't budge.

"When we wouldn't take his offer, he. decided to take our wagon anyway. Since we were all half starved, I don't think he thought of it as much of a crime. At the last minute, he said he wanted to take me with him," She fought to keep from choking on the words. "He ripped the front of my dress open to make sure I was woman enough to bother with." She fought back tears. Even after five years, the night was too horrible to talk about.

"He slapped me until I was too scared to cry out and started dragging me to the wagon. He didn't even give me time to pull my clothes together. He was too busy talking about what he'd do to me every night on the trail and how he'd sell me once he got tired of feeding me.

"All of a sudden, Bailee hit him with a board, and we thought she killed him. She started crying, so Sarah picked up the board and hit him, too. And then I did. I hit him as hard as I could, praying that I was the one who killed him."

Lacy raised her chin. "We left him there, the gold from his saddlebags spilling out over his body, and made it to Cedar Point by the next night. We all confessed, and the sheriff told us we'd go to prison, but I didn't care. I would have killed him again if I'd had the chance."

"But the sheriff told me there was no body." Walker filled in the details as he moved to stand behind her. "He couldn't charge you, and he couldn't let the three of you go because you'd confessed. He had to find a body and prove you were guilty, or find Whitaker to prove you were innocent."

"But Zeb Whitaker had disappeared, it seemed. Riley couldn't stand to send us down state to a prison, and he couldn't afford to keep us here, so he charged us each a fine and married us off to anyone willing to pay it. I thought the nightmare would end, but Whitaker is coming after me again. He says he wants his gold, but I think he blames me for all his troubles. I think he hates me the most."

Walker had never considered the cruelty of what had happened. He'd only been thinking of himself when his father telegrammed him that he was now married by proxy. Lacy had only been fifteen; she must have been frightened out of her mind. She must be terrified now.

"Lacy," he whispered not knowing what to say.

When she turned to face him, he opened his arms.

Awkwardly, she moved into his embrace. While she cried against his chest, he held her close. "It's all right, now, Lacy. He'll never hurt you again."

He held her until the tears stopped. She thanked him and disappeared into her bedroom, but it was a long time before Walker could sleep. In the five years since they'd been married, he'd never thought that Lacy might have been an innocent in what happened to her. At first he'd thought she'd manipulated his father; then, after she'd visited him, he'd thought that she was just a fool who must have gotten in with the wrong people. He felt more sorrow for her than anger.

He didn't consider himself to be an easy man to fool. If Lacy lied to him tonight, she was a master at it. He stayed up until almost dawn piecing all the details together.

The next morning, for the first time in years, he overslept. When he rolled over and smelled coffee, he awoke all at once.

Lacy's humming drifted from the kitchen, and he relaxed.

Stomping into his boots, he met her stare when he reached the doorway.

"You almost missed breakfast," she said with a shy smile. "Which, considering the way I cook, might not be a bad idea."

She put the food on the table while he washed up behind the blanket that had become part of the kitchen. With his hair still damp, he sat down to a breakfast of potato pancakes and eggs.

"Looks good," he managed to lie.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure how many you'd want, so I made lots." She scraped the last few pancakes out of the skillet.

Whatever had happened between them last night had worked. Both were more relaxed. She even buttered his bread and handed it to him as though they were some old married couple. He questioned her about her Thursday workday, and she went through all the details of what had to be done so that they'd have the paper ready by Friday afternoon.

When she'd finished her meal, Lacy leaned close and checked to see how his head was healing, then stayed a moment longer to comb his hair with her fingers.

Walker closed his eyes and relaxed, imagining what it would be like to have a woman, to have Lacy, so near, so comfortable around him that she'd touch his hair while she talked about her day. It seemed a foreign world, but peaceful, if only for a moment.

"No one will see the scar until you go bald." She laughed. "But with this much hair, it may take a while."

When she moved away, he felt the loss of her even before he heard her stand.

"Well." She cleared the dishes. "What do you think of my cooking, Captain?"

The pancakes were burned on the outside and a mush of milk and egg mixture on the inside. Walker couldn't lie. "You're a great quilter."

"Spoken like a man not afraid to die." She laughed and raised the rolling pin she'd used to toughen the biscuit dough.

They were both laughing when someone pounded on the kitchen door.

Walker leaned over, pulling her behind him as he reached for his rifle. "Who's there!" he yelled.

"It's Riley. Let me in, Walker."

The door swung open.

The instant she saw the sheriff's worried face, Lacy let out a little cry. Walker circled her waist with his free hand while he unsnapped the leather over his pistol with the other.

Riley hurried in. "It's bad." He shook his head. "I should have seen it coming, but I never thought—"

"Bailee? Sarah?" Lacy grabbed the sheriff's coat. "Who is it? Who's—" She couldn't finish.

Walker pulled her against him and braced her for what he knew would be bad news. "What happened, Sheriff?"

"Bailee and Sarah are fine." The old man swallowed and forced words. "It's Nell. She's hurt bad." He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the pain his words would cause. "Carter was coming into town to make his weekly delivery. He found your buggy all busted up down by the draw. Nell must have left before full daylight and been traveling as fast as old Dancer can run."

Lacy pushed away from Walker and jerked off her apron. "Where is she?"

Riley stepped out of her way. "At Doc's. But—" Lacy didn't give him time to say more.

Walker followed Lacy as she ran down the
back steps, across the alley, and into the rear entrance of the doctor's home. He was one step behind her when she darted through a kitchen, across the front office, and to the door of the examining room.

When the doctor saw her, he hurried forward, blocking her flight. "Now, Miss Lacy," he started. "It's not as bad as it may appear. There's a lot of blood, but I have her breathing regularly. I was about to check for broken bones."

Lacy stopped so fast Walker almost ran into her. She took huge gulps of air and waited for the doctor to move aside. Walker knew she prepared herself.