Lacy (9 page)

Katy, sitting beside him, suddenly felt as if
she'd won a lottery. So there wouldn't be any disgrace. She'd be a respectable
married lady, and Cole wouldn't come and kill Danny. She closed her eyes and
smiled. She wondered what Turk would say when he found out. He'd probably be
relieved to hear that she was out of his hair once and for all, she thought
bitterly. She comforted herself with the hope that she wouldn't be pregnant.
Turk had tried to spare her that shame. It was one thing to go to Danny without
her chastity, quite another to present him with another man's child. She had
too much character for that kind of dirty trick. But.. .what if Turk's actions
had been too late?

FAR AWAY, ON THE NORTHERN
end
of San Antonio, Lacy was clutching her husband's sleeve as he helped her on
board the morning train that ran down through Floresville and stopped on a
siding near Spanish Flats.

He was deadly quiet this morning, all business.
Still in his work clothes, he drew feminine eyes nevertheless. But he never
returned those sly glances, or even acknowledged them. He helped Lacy into a
seat and slid lazily down beside her. Deceptive, that slow movement of his
lean, hard body. She'd seen him in a hurry once or twice, and he was as quick as
greased lightning and twice as dangerous.

"Katy will be glad of some young
company," he remarked as the train pulled slowly out of the station,
lurching with the first movements.

"What's he like, this Chicago man she's
seeing?" Lacy asked.

He shrugged. "Italian. Dark, well mannered,
a little shady. Turk doesn't like him."

"Turk doesn't like anybody around Katy, and
you know it," she murmured dryly, glancing up at his hard face.

Dark, angry eyes cut down into hers. "Turk
is the best friend I have in the world. But even he isn't permitted that kind
of familiarity. Katy isn't going to become one of Turk's castoffs."

"Oh, no," Lacy said demurely, folding
her hands over the lap of her dark skirt. "But she's perfect for a
gangster?"

"It isn't that kind of relationship. She's
young. She's just having a fling," he said.

She watched him cross his long legs and roll a
cigarette. He was so capable, she thought. Always in perfect command, taking
charge, making everything all right. She'd felt secure with him, even in their
early days together. She'd never been afraid when Cole was anywhere around.

"Why won't you let Turk near her?" she
asked bluntly.

He turned in the seat, with his arm draped
carelessly over the back, and studied her. "Because he seduces everything
in skirts," he said matter-of-factly. "Katy would be easy prey. Then
it would be impossible. He'd be embarrassed and guilty about it, and she'd be
compromised or worse. I'd have to do something about it, and that wouldn't help
anybody. No. It's better this way."

"You don't think he could settle down,
maybe get married?" she persisted gently.

"He was married,"he said. "She
died. He's never wanted anyone else like that. I'm not sure he can. He likes
his own company now."

"Like you," she said, smiling faintly.

His broad shoulders lifted and fell. "I'm
used to it. It takes too much time and effort, letting people get close. More
often than not, they find a weakness and exploit it. If you keep them at arm's
length, that can't happen."

"It's a pretty lonely life," she reminded
him, gray eyes soft and searching.

"Loneliness and independence are different
words for the same thing. Freedom. I like mine. I don't think I could survive
being hog-tied and smothered."

"I never tried to smother you," she
said, defending herself. "I just hated being ignored constantly."

"And the one time I didn't ignore
you," he replied quietly, watching her blush, "you cried all night
long. I heard you, even through the wall."

She turned her face away, but he caught her chin
and jerked it back around to search it, his eyes dark and fierce.

"You walked away," she said
unsteadily, glancing around. There was no one near enough to hear them; the
train was remarkably uncrowded for that time of day. She looked back at him.
"You knew you'd hurt me, and you couldn't get out fast enough. Of course I
cried."

"What could I have said or done then?"
he asked, eyes narrow and dark. "I thought you wanted me. You seemed to,
that morning."

Her lips parted at the memory of it: his mouth
warm and searching, his body hard and hungry against her own. It had been so
sweet, so heady. "Yes, I wanted you," she whispered. "I thought
it would be the way it was that morning. But afterward, it was like being..
.used,"she said falteringly. "You wouldn't even let me touch you.

His jaw clenched as he stared down at her, his
chest rising and falling unevenly. He did want, so desperately, to tell her why
he'd hurt her. But he wondered if she'd believe him even if he could make his
pride bend that far. "That's past history, anyway, Lacy," he said
curtly. He lifted the cigarette to his parted lips and took a long draw.
"We'll have to make the best of things, if we can."

She looked out the window, to the low horizon
and acres of flat, unfenced land outside it. "I don't suppose it's
occurred to you that we could get a divorce?"

"No. So it looks as if you're stuck,
doesn't it, kiddo?"he asked, with a cold smile.

"Or you are," she replied sweetly, and
smiled back.

He glanced down at the neat dark suit she was
wearing and the pretty little hat on her dark head. "I'm glad you aren't
wearing any of those outrageous new dresses like what you had on last night
"he commented. "I have a hell of a time keeping my cowhands working
as it is, without you women driving them crazy. They've been hanging around the
house for weeks now, trying to get a glimpse of Katy's legs. I finally burned
two of her more revealing dresses."

"Just your style, cattle king," she
taunted. "If you can't reason with people, run over them. You were always
like that, even when you were younger."

"Don't expect me to change, Lacy. I'm too
old."

She shook her head, staring at the rugged
features, the straight nose and chiseled, wide mouth, the square jaw. It wasn't
the nicest face she'd ever seen on a man, but it suited him, and she loved
every hard line of it. Bronzed skin, deep-set dark eyes, heavy brows, thick
straight hair that fell into an unruly heap on his broad forehead. He was
sensuous. Yes, he really was, she thought suddenly, even in the way he moved. But
it was only an illusion, because he was more repressed than any man she'd ever
known and he hated the very idea of sex. She'd wondered a time or two how many
women he'd had in his life. Oddly, enough, she sometimes thought there had
hardly been any.

"You're staring, honey,"he chided,
watching her intense scrutiny.

"You're a very sensuous man," she said
quietly, watching the impact of that statement freeze his hard features.

He turned his face away from her and leaned back
to smoke his cigarette in a frigid silence.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," she
said after a minute, settling down into her own comfortable seat as the train
gathered speed.

"No. It wasn't that," he replied, his
voice even, quiet.

Well, whatever it was, he didn't volunteer
anything more. He sat with his hat down over his eyes, the cigarette smoking
between his lean, dark fingers, and he didn't say another word.

Still, her eyes continued to study him, running
like hands down his long, lean body with its rippling play of muscle as he
shifted.

"Why do they call Jude Turk?" she
asked unexpectedly.

His thin lips actually smiled, but he didn't
open his eyes. "Because there aren't any fiercer fighters than the Turks.
He's a force to behold when he's mad, kiddo. A mean man."

"As mean as you?" she teased softly,
her blue eyes twinkling in their frame of soft, forward-curving hair.

He glanced down at her with one eye. "About
half,"he said. That eye went down to her full breasts and lingered, then
went back up again to catch her blush. "Embarrassed?"

"You're the one who won't talk about
sex," she reminded him.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but
he shrugged and closed his eyes again.

If only he could talk to her, she thought
miserably. If only they could just communicate. She sometimes thought that
there was a loving, giving man locked up in those suppressed emotions. That
Cole was a keg of dynamite, waiting for a match—that as a lover he'd be
everything she could want. If she could only find the spark to ignite him. But
he seemed not to care about that side of his nature. And only occasionally,
like just now, did any hint of it come out. He was the most complex and
puzzling man she'd ever known. Perhaps that was why, after all the years she'd
known him, he still fascinated her.

Ben was waiting for them at the siding, dressed
in a beige city suit with a derby on his head, hands in his pockets as he
leaned back against the building. The aging but jaunty black runabout was
parked nearby, its top down.

Lacy couldn't help but grin at the picture of
gay youth he presented. "The future famous writer," she murmured.
"Do you think he'll make it, Cole?"

"I suppose he'll keep trying until he dies,
at least," he said. "Don't encourage him," he added
unexpectedly.

She glared at him as he got up to let her out of
the seat. "I never did."

"He's still got a wild crush on you,"
he said. His dark eyes narrowed. "This time, if he makes one move toward
you, brother or no brother, I'll beat him to his knees."

"Cole!" she gasped, shocked by the
hard look in his eyes.

"You remember what I said," he told
her, and took her arm firmly in his hand as he retrieved the carpetbag with her
clothes in it and walked off the train with Lacy in tow.

"Lacy, darling!" Ben said in his most
sophisticated tone, spreading open his arms. "How are you?"

"She's fine," Cole said, with a
cutting edge in his deep voice as he dared Ben to come one step closer.
"How's Mother?"

"Upset..." Ben started, obviously
nonplussed by his brother's sudden possessiveness. "Katy's gone."

Standing next to him, Lacy actually felt the
tension grow in Cole's lean, powerful body. "She's what?" he
demanded.

"It's okay; she's not going to live in sin
or anything," Ben said quickly. "She's going to marry that Danny
Marlone. He's taking her to his mother's until the wedding."

"It's too quick," Cole said shortly.
"They've only known each other for a few weeks. And where the hell was
Turk while this was going on?"

"At the ranch. He said she was of age.
Besides," he added ruefully, "she was long gone before he knew about it."

"He could have gone after her!" Cole
shot at him. "So could've you!

"And done what, for God's sake?" Ben
demanded coldly. "She's over twenty-one!"

Cole glared at him until he actually moved
backward a step.

"He's right," Lacy interrupted gently.
She touched his arm, noticing with a faint hope that he didn't jerk away this
time. "She's a grown woman. You can't force her to come back. And knowing
Katy, she'd never go off with a man she didn't love."

"You don't know her lately,"he replied
quietly. "She's changed. Gone wild."

"It's just the new age." Ben laughed.
"Times are changing, for the better. Everything's looser, less rigid.
Girls are getting liberated, that's all."

"They're getting loose, that's all,"
Cole returned curtly. "Short skirts, cussing, drinking, running wild with
men... The younger generation's going to hell!"

"Well, yours sure did the world a lot of
good, didn't it?" Ben shot back. "The war to end all wars.. .isn't
that what they called it? How many men did you kill, big brother?"

Cole hit him. The movement of the taller man's
fist was so fast, Ben didn't even see it coming. And Lacy didn't say a single
word. If anything, she moved even closer to Cole, her accusing blue eyes on
Ben's bruised face as he got slowly to his feet, rubbing his chin.

"Okay, I was out of line," he
muttered, glaring at his brother.