A Texan's Luck (21 page)

He heard her grumble.

"It will work, Lacy!" he snapped, frustrated at her. "You can wear a boy's clothes for a few hours." He couldn't imagine that she'd be so uncooperative about changing into a man's clothes. She couldn't be so vain, or maybe she just hated his plan so much he'd have to drag her to safety.

When he turned around, she had her back to him. The pants he'd told her to wear were too big in the waist and tight across her hips, but once on a horse, no one would notice. She'd be fine. The shirt hung long from the shoulders and would cover up her waist and backside if left hanging out in back, so he saw no problem.

"Turn around."

She shook her head.

He leaned and put a hat on her head. "Turn around, Lacy. So what if you look like a boy. I'm not going to laugh."

"No," she answered.

"Lacy, stop being a fool about looking like a boy. Turn around." He was too tired to continue this game.

She turned around. He didn't laugh. She didn't look like a boy.

For a moment all Walker could do was stare. The boy's shirt that had been too big at the shoulders didn't come together to button across her chest. As she breathed, he saw her cleavage between the cotton and the rounded swell of each breast. The shirt might only lack an inch closing, but it was a very important inch.

She tried to pull the shirt together, but it was useless.

There would be no hiding the fact that she was very much a woman.

"You're right." He admitted defeat. "No matter the clothes, you'll never look like a boy."

Her brown eyes rose to his, and to his surprise he saw no embarrassment in them. "I tried to tell you."

She laughed nervously, and he envied the cotton shirt that moved slightly over her body with each breath. "I may be short, but I'm a woman fully grown. I thought you knew that, Captain."

Walker saw no point in arguing. She was every inch a female, and somehow the boy's clothing made it even more obvious than her high-necked dress and wool vest. "I'll think of another plan."

"So, I can put my clothes back on?"

"Of course." If she stood there much longer, she'd probably catch cold.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Turn around."

With great self-control, Walker followed orders.

Lacy fought down a laugh. She'd finally made
the captain speechless. She almost felt sorry for him. It occurred to her that maybe she should tell him that she'd never thought of herself as modest. But, after all, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen her before without her clothes.

Yet … if she didn't know better she would have sworn he must have forgotten she'd undressed before him once before. She felt the heat of his stare. The captain might be without a heart, but he wasn't dead.

"I'm finished." She buttoned the last button. "You can turn around now."

He did. Slowly.

"I tried to tell you back when you had the idea. Some women, even in men's clothes, don't look like men."

"I got the point." He stared directly at her face.

"Well, don't get mad about it. It's not my fault. My mother and grandmother were both well—"

"I understand," he said without allowing her to finish.

"You didn't have to expose yourself in front of a man to prove your point."

"I didn't expose myself in front of a man. You're my husband. We've been living together for a week. Surely you noticed that we aren't built the same."

He didn't look like he wanted to be reminded of it. He straightened as if at attention. "I'm also a man, and your behavior just now was inappropriate. An hour ago you didn't even want me touching your hair."

The captain was back, she thought; no human remained.

Anger fired in Lacy. "Inappropriate? I'm sorry, Captain, but I don't exactly know the rules here. Maybe you should explain them to me. I first thought a husband should act like a husband, but when I demanded that, you acted as if I'd made the request at gunpoint."

She paced her little office, three steps left, three steps right. "It's hard to treat you like a stranger when you're breathing down my neck. We're not friends, but until this is over, we can't survive as enemies."

He closed his arms over his chest as if waiting out a storm. He didn't plan to budge an inch, and he looked like he'd turn to dust before he admitted he was wrong about anything.

Lacy planted her fists on her hips and decided she could be just as headstrong. "You demand I follow orders like I joined your army and, when I question them, you look at me like you plan to have me shot at dawn as a deserter." She knew both their emotions were raw with all that had happened, but she couldn't stop herself.

She blew out the lamp, casting them into shadow. "You seem to be the one with all the experience and all the rules. I've never even been kissed, and in this state of married-with-no-husband, it looks like I'll never know what it's like. I've been married but never courted, and bedded but never loved."

She tossed him the clothes he'd demanded she try on. "I give up! I quit! Shoot me if you like! I don't want to be in your army anymore." She turned to leave, then whirled back to face him once more.

"And one last point. I didn't tell you never to touch my hair, I said not to touch me while I'm asleep, and if you can't figure out the difference, I've married the dumbest man in Texas. So do me a favor and go back to wherever you came from and never speak to me again."

Before he could answer, she shot out the door of the office and flew toward the back stairs. She heard him bumping into tables as he tried to follow in the dark, but she had no intention of turning around to help him. He was the most self-righteous man in the state. Maybe in the country. She didn't care if he fell over the printing press and died. How dare he proclaim her behavior inappropriate?

Lacy paused at the landing. What if he hurt the press? For one moment she thought of going back down, not to save Walker, but to protect the printing press.

In that hesitation, he caught her.

Before she could fight, he shoved her into the wall and pressed his body against hers, making her immobile in a fraction of a second.

Until now, she hadn't realized how strong he was, or how powerful. His entire body must have been honed for years as a fighting machine. He didn't need a knife or a gun, he could kill her with his bare hands.

She shook with fear. His forearm rested across her throat; one slight push, and he'd close her windpipe.

His warm breath brushed against her face as he fought to breathe. Then he said her name, low and angry. No matter how he was dressed, Lacy had no doubt a warrior's heart beat against her own.

A sob escaped before she could bite her lip and stop it.

A moment later, he stepped away as though her nearness had burned him.

She almost slid to the floor in relief. She wasn't sure if he'd been about to hold her or hurt her, and what frightened her even more was that she didn't think he knew either.

She saw his outline on the other side of the landing, only a few feet away. He'd braced his hands wide apart on the railing and took deep breaths as if he'd been fighting for his life.

Lacy didn't move. She didn't know where to go. The one person in this world who'd sworn to protect her had attacked her. Or had he?

Rubbing her arms, she felt no bruises. What if she had tried to fight back? Would he have only trapped her, or defended himself? What if, in his anger, he had hit her and not just caught her? Had he run to save her or catch her?

And the way he moved, she thought. The way he moved was too fast, too smooth not to have been practiced.

Suddenly she realized how cold it was in the shop. The fire had gone out downstairs, and she knew none still burned in the apartment. She'd left yesterday morning for the doctor's without her coat, and now the icy air seeped into her blood. But she didn't move. She wasn't sure what Walker would do. Just when she thought she was getting to know him, she realized how much of a stranger he was.

To her surprise, he faced her. His hard, powerful muscles were now tightly under control as his body stretched tall and straight as if facing a court.

"My action, madam, was inexcusable." The aloof manners returned without emotions, as if he'd practiced them over and over. "I only meant to catch up to you, not grab you."

Her husband was colder than the night. He couldn't use the reasoning that he was trying to help her like he did last time when he'd held her. She was thankful he didn't try. Anger had driven him this time, she reasoned, nothing more. And for her no-hearted husband, the loss of his temper was a flaw.

Lacy tried to stop her teeth from chattering as she slowly gained control of her own emotions. "You frightened me."

"It is with deepest regret I—"

She didn't want to hear the stiff formal talk of an officer, she wanted to hear him be a man, but she wasn't sure there was one left inside the soldier. "Stop calling me madam."

"If you wish." He wouldn't come out from behind his invisible wall.

"Since when has any of this been as I wish?" She climbed the steps, aware that he followed, but not too closely this time.

They went into the apartment, and he waited as she packed a few things in her tattered carpetbag and put on her new navy coat. Then, without a word, she prepared to leave her home, not knowing when she'd return. She didn't care what the captain's plan was, she had a plan of her own. She would stay with Nell, and somehow they'd get to Carter and Bailee's place. There she'd be safe, and she'd tell Walker he could go back to being a soldier forever. She wanted to stay at home and work, but she'd give that all up if he would forget this duty he seemed to think he had toward her. The only chance that might happen would be if she could prove that she was safe on her on.

As she gathered a few quilts and her tablet from the kitchen table, Walker lifted her bag and waited for her at the back door. He accepted each bundle she wrapped, never once commenting on how much she took.

They crossed the alley and entered the doctor's office just as dawn grayed the sky.

"Glad you're back, Miss Lacy," Timothy greeted her without seeming to notice the soldier standing in front of her. "I want you to take a look at something."

Lacy didn't say a word to Walker as she stepped around him and followed the doctor. It crossed her mind that life would have been so much better if she'd married a man like Timothy McClellan. He was kind and soft-spoken. He always asked, never told. She could have been a great help to him, and maybe he would have cherished her. There was no fire burning beneath the surface with the doctor, no bottled-up anger that threatened to explode, no hidden warrior ready to attack.

Blinking away the tears, Lacy realized all she'd ever wanted in this life was to be cherished. Not someone's duty or responsibility. She wanted to be of some value. Because Walker's father had treated her so, she'd thought Walker would also when he finally came home. But she'd been wrong.

Dr. McClellan didn't comment on her silence as he talked about Nell's progress. "I've been careful to put her legs so there will be no pressure to her spine, but a few minutes ago I noticed her left foot."

Lacy moved to the table as he lifted the cover off Nell's feet. "Look!"

All she saw was Nell's leg.

"What?" Lacy realized the doctor was waiting.

"I think she may have moved her leg. It could have just been a jerk of muscles, but if it was her controlling it, there may still be feeling in her legs."

It took a moment for Lacy to digest the words.

Timothy laughed. "That's not the exact place I put her foot when I checked to make sure her ankles weren't swelling. If she moved, then there is at least some hope."

Lacy clapped her hands, then hugged the doctor. "That means she may be able to walk," she whispered, almost afraid to hope.

He didn't return her hug but smiled like a parent might with an excited child. "We'll know more later, if it happens again, but the sign is a good one."

Lacy laughed and cried at the same time. All day and most of the night she'd worried that Nell might not be able to walk. She couldn't imagine the little girl who'd grown up running everywhere suddenly confined to bed or a wheelchair.

The doctor warned her not to get her hopes up, but this was the first good sign.

She stepped away from Timothy and noticed Walker standing at the door, his arms folded over his chest as he watched. Without a word, he turned and walked away.

An unexpected hollowness touched her heart. She wished she understood the man beneath the soldier, but she wasn't sure he'd ever unlock the prison he kept himself so tightly barricaded in.

For the first time she wondered what had hurt him so deeply that he'd rather live alone than let another person near. When they talked sometimes, his words didn't seem so guarded, but when he grew angry, he hid behind the part of him who'd turned all emotion off in order to be a soldier.

Without warning, the front door opened with a bang. Walker swung in one fluid movement, his gun drawn and pointed at the wide-shouldered figure of a man stomping into the office.