Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (54 page)

He took her chin between two fingers and lifted it. “Come now, let me see a smile.” He prodded her with his own grin.

“Papa, will those men hang if they are caught?” She just couldn’t smile.

“You know the law.”

“Even the one . . . ?”

Reid nodded gravely to her half-spoken question.

“He was just a boy.”

“A boy, you say?” When she nodded, he added, “A handsome boy?”

“Papa!” But her blazing cheeks belied her protests.

“Handsome or not, young or not, he is still a thief. If nothing else, he stole Pete’s best saddle horse. He surely knew what he was doing.”

“I suppose so . . . but Papa, if he is caught, could you mention what he did for me?”

“I’ll think about it, my love, but only if you give me a smile.”

Lucie did smile then because he asked, and it was hard to refuse her father. But also because she knew he was a fair man and would see that justice was done in the case of the young outlaw if he were found. She still secretly hoped the handsome heroic criminal was never caught.

CHAPTER

4

L
UCIE HAD WANTED TO GO
to San Antonio with Pete but simply could not justify leaving her father so soon again. Besides, what did she hope to gain by giving her side of the story to the authorities? Not that they would give much heed to a woman anyway, especially a young one.

But why did she feel so compelled to defend that rustler? Over and over she tried to convince herself that he was bad, a thief, maybe even a killer. But she wasn’t convinced. Instead, Lucie kept remembering the gentle way he had held her when she nearly fainted. She had been conscious enough to feel his arms around her, and she even recalled a brief glimpse of his utterly distressed expression at her plight. She had caught a flicker of something else deep in his eyes. A wounded look, perhaps? And the kindly words he had spoken. He had been truly concerned for her. What she tried not to think about was his fine-looking visage. Eyes as blue as a Texas sky, hair like a red-gold sunset descending over that sky, and dimples forming in his ruddy cheeks when he smiled. And that smile! It had only flashed momentarily, but it had not been the smile of a hardened outlaw. Maybe that’s why Lucie felt so compelled to come to his defense. It seemed to her when he had knelt over her, his concerned expression softening to that smile, that he was simply a nice boy. A boy her father would probably like. And now she was almost sure it was so. He had just taken a wrong turn in life and needed to be nudged back to the right path by a caring friend.

Her?

Well, she doubted she would ever find out. More than likely she would never see him again, and that was just as well. She didn’t want to see him again, not if it meant he had been caught. Besides, her father would never let her be friends with an outlaw, even an ex-outlaw.

Lucie did, however, remember one thing she could do for the young man who had saved her life, one way she could repay him even if she never saw him again. She knew someone else who cared about him.

“Dear Lord, I think it is all right to pray for outlaws, isn’t it? Now that I think of it, even you prayed for the outlaw who hung on a cross next to you. Well, I pray that my outlaw never gets to that place. I suppose it is wrong to pray that he never gets caught, but I do pray that if he is, you will somehow take care of him, protect him, maybe even help him to find you. I guess it is safe to assume that since he is an outlaw, he must not know you very well. I saw good in him though, just in the few minutes of our encounter. He saved me, Lord, so I pray you will save my outlaw.”

My outlaw,
Lucie mused. What a silly notion. But he certainly was God’s outlaw if not hers. And thus, she left the young man—she did not even know his name—in God’s hands.

“Lucie, we have company,” her father called from the front of the house.

Lucie had been in her room taking a rest after the midday meal. Her room was the coolest in the house on these hot summer days. She rose from her bed and patted out the wrinkles in the beige-sprigged calico of her day gown. It was not her best dress for receiving guests, but if they had come unexpectedly, they surely would understand. She glanced in the mirror of her dressing table. There was not time to give her hair the attention it needed. The unruly curls never obeyed her combs and pins, but at least the long braid at her back, carefully plaited that morning by Juana, looked presentable. She repositioned the combs, doing her best to tame the dark auburn tresses. Papa often said her riotous mane best represented the mixing of her wild Scottish blood with her beautiful Mexican heritage. She thought it was usually more wild than beautiful.

As she entered the parlor, she saw the Carltons from the neighboring ranch had come to visit—Axel, his wife, Violet, and their son, Grant.

“Good afternoon,” Lucie said with a smile at her guests.

The men stood and bowed slightly, offering polite greetings. Axel kissed her hand. He was from Virginia and fancied himself a true gentle man. Grant just grinned at her. He was twenty-one and fancied
himself
Lucie’s prime suitor. Lucie didn’t fancy either of them. She thought both Carlton men were too full of themselves. But she had to admit that Grant did appear to be prime husband material. In a land where the men were supposed to outnumber the women by ten to one, she had found precious few decent prospects—not that she was looking.

“We were so happy to hear you had come home,” Violet said. “Come, sit by me and tell me all about your trip.” She patted a place beside her on the couch.

Lucie liked Violet well enough, though she could be a bit simpering at times. That Virginian breeding, Lucie supposed. But she had been a good friend of Lucie’s mother and had always been kind to Lucie. Before taking a seat, Lucie offered refreshments, but her father said Juana was already seeing to them. So Lucie sat next to Violet, who immediately put her arm around Lucie’s shoulders in a motherly fashion.

“Your father tells us you were in Mexico City,” Violet said.

“It was my first time—my first time in any large city, actually,” Lucie replied. “I have never seen such splendid buildings. The Church of Santo Domingo, which I believe is the largest church in the Americas, was breathtaking.”

“We don’t hold with Papist trappings,” Axel said dourly. “Not any more, since Texas is free of all that.”

“Oh . . .” Lucie swallowed. She was not Catholic either—a sore point with her Mexican relatives to be sure—but beauty was beauty, and the cathedrals
were
awe-inspiring. She tried to politely counter Axel Carlton’s rudeness. “Well, of course, there was much more in the city. Violet, you would have loved Alameda Park and the splendid court ship ritual that takes place every Saturday afternoon. The young girls, decked out in all their best finery, circle the fountain while the young men circle in the other direction, all hoping to meet a future mate. My
tia
Maria took me there.”

“And did you join the ritual?” Violet asked breathlessly.

“Oh no. I would not want to marry a man who lived so far from home.” Lucie regretted her words the minute Violet’s gaze skittered toward her son. To cover her discomfiture, she quickly added, “And the shops! Papa gave me money to buy some new things, but I had the hardest time deciding. After we have refreshments, Violet, you may come to my room and see what I bought.”

“That would be delightful!” Violet exclaimed.

“One day Texas will be just as prosperous as Mexico,” Axel said.

“If we can ever get out of debt,” Reid said.

“And curb all the lawlessness,” Grant added.

“You are right there, son,” Axel said. “Reid, our cattle were raided again. Those cursed Mexicans stole a hundred head—” He stopped suddenly as his wife daintily cleared her throat with a warning glance at Lucie. “Ah-hem. Well, of course, Lucie, my dear, I don’t mean you. I hardly think of you as Mexican at all.”

“But I am, Mr. Carlton,” Lucie said softly and without apology, keeping ire from her tone as well.

“Only half,” put in Grant. “And you seem as American as anyone here.”

Lucie pasted a gracious smile on her face. “But I am
Texan
, Grant, both halves of me. Not American, if the truth were told.”

“Of course. We’re all Texan,” Grant replied, “but not for long if a good portion of our citizens have their way.”

“Unfortunately, we have little to give the States right now to entice them into offering statehood to us,” Reid said.

Lucie knew that her father was one who would prefer for Texas to remain independent.

“And that brings me back to my lost cattle,” Axel groused. “I do not mean to offend anyone present, but those Mexican banditos are wreaking havoc on local ranches. Something must be done.”

“I have reason to believe there are gangs of gringo rustlers operating as well,” Reid said. He paused as Juana entered the parlor with a tray of lemonade and coffee and an assortment of sweets.

“Thank you, Juana,” Lucie said as the housekeeper set the tray before her.

Lucie poured coffee for Axel and her father and glasses of cool lemonade for Grant, Violet, and herself. Then she offered cookies and such to all. Juana had stood back to allow Lucie the place of hostess; however, the housekeeper did wait a moment to observe before exiting. Lucie smiled to herself. Juana was making sure Lucie had not forgotten her manners during her absence.

“So what is this about white outlaws?” Axel asked between sips of his coffee. “I know we have them, but as long as they keep clear of whites, I don’t see the problem.”

“I believe it is a problem no matter who they steal from,” Reid answered dryly. “But they stole a good portion of the mustangs I had just purchased in Mexico. I figure they have certainly crossed the line.”

“I am still more concerned about the Mexican banditos.”

“Are you certain it was they and not the gringos who stole your cattle?”

“One of my men saw him. He was certain it was that blackguard Joaquin Viegas. I’m gonna personally attend his hanging when they catch him.” Axel snatched up a cookie and popped it into his mouth as if this sealed the gruesome matter.

Lucie glanced at her father. His jaw was taut with repressed anger or pain, she couldn’t tell exactly which. He lifted his gaze to briefly meet hers, then looked away. In that brief moment, Lucie knew it was mostly pain assailing her father, and not from his illness, but rather from a deep emotional wound. She wanted to go to him and hold him tight. She was feeling some of his pain as well. But they both sat still and politely entertained their guests, who were becoming more objectionable as the visit wore on.

“Mr. Carlton, please, this is mixed company,” Violet scolded.

Dear Violet. She was an absolute saint to put up with a man like Axel Carlton, Lucie thought.

“Sorry again,” the man said tightly, obviously not one bit regretful of his words but only of the fact that he might have overstepped etiquette a little.

The visit droned on, interminably it seemed to Lucie. Her only relief was when she and Violet retreated to her room, where she showed off her new gowns and trinkets from Mexico. Violet clapped gaily like a little girl, her pale ringlets bobbing around her head as Lucie paraded out each item. It was almost like having a girlfriend. Lucie hardly believed the woman was a matron of forty.

They returned to the men, and soon after the Carltons departed. As everyone was exiting the parlor, Grant Carlton contrived to detain Lucie alone in the room while the others made their way outside.

“Lucie, I must tell you I’m delighted to see you again,” he said as he turned just the right way to block her exit from the parlor.

“I am glad to be home,” she replied shortly. He stood within inches of her, and there was no way to escape without being rude.

“You look absolutely fetching in that gown.”

She nearly replied, “This old thing?” in the coquettish manner such things were said, then remembered it
was
an old dress and looked horrid. Grant was just plying her with false flattery. And she didn’t much like it.

“Grant, if I weren’t around,” she said mockingly, “I declare you’d make eyes at Juana.”

He momentarily appeared affronted, then suddenly smiled. “There isn’t that much of a dearth of women around here. There are, in fact, several young gals in San Antonio who might catch a man’s eye. But you, Lucie, are the most beautiful—” He held up a hand to forestall her attempt to protest. “It is true, ask anyone. And it doesn’t bother me much that you are half Mexican.”

“Not much, eh?” she said sharply, then whirled away from his near ness, not caring a whit if she was rude. “If my father heard you say such things, he’d challenge you to a duel.” That, of course, was not true, since Reid deplored such senseless violence as dueling, but she didn’t know how else to vent her ire. She’d had just about enough backhanded slurs from the Carlton clan in one day.

“Please forgive me.” Grant followed her around until he was near again, then put his hands on her shoulders. “When I am around you, I get positively senseless. You make my head spin, Lucie. I don’t—”

She glanced at his hands reprovingly. “Please, Grant, you are indeed forgetting yourself.”

He dropped his hands, a flash of shock in his dark eyes indicating his realization that he had indeed gone beyond his carefully honed Virginia chivalry.

“Lucie, there is to be a ball in San Antonio next week. Will you do me the honor of accompanying me there?”

“That is really too much, even for you.” She attempted to affect her father’s stern gaze. Failing at that, she let a slight smile slip on to her lips. “I believe my father will escort me to the ball, but I shall certainly give you a dance or two.”

He smiled. “Two! More than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Lucie. I will look forward to it!”

She watched him go, bemused by the entire scene. For all of Grant’s past attempts at wooing her, this was the most forward he had ever been. Perhaps he had spent her absence fearing she would find a husband in Mexico, and now that she had returned still unattached, he decided he must take more affirmative action. It was almost enough to turn her head.