Lacy

“Now, Mama,” Ben said awkwardly. He knelt before her, rubbing her hands in his. “Mama, she’s a big girl. Are you sure they aren’t getting married?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Cassie’s looking for a note or something. Why did she do it?” she asked, lifting eyes as dark as his own to question him. “She’s been so wild lately, but I never expected her to do anything like this. Ben—” she leaned forward urgently “—Coleman will kill him.”

“Yes, I know,” he said. It was the truth, too. Cole had a hell of a temper, and he doted on Katy. He wouldn’t put it past his big brother to get on the first train North with a pistol on his hip.

“How are we going to tell him?” she persisted, gnawing on her lower lip.

Ben forced a smile. Just his luck, he thought miserably. Here he’d came home with the best news of his budding career, and there was nobody to listen. Sister Katy had stolen his thunder.

“Here,” Cassie called from the hall, waving a piece of paper. “She did leave us a note!”

Marion took it from her with trembling hands and read it. “Mama and all,” Katy had scribbled. “Danny and I are engaged. We are going to Chicago today to meet his parents. We’ll invite you all to the wedding! Wish us luck. Love, Katy.”

Ben met his mother’s dark eyes. “Do you believe it?”

She shook her head. “But it’s important that we make Coleman believe it…Do you understand me, Ben, Cassie?”

They both nodded. Cole’s temper wasn’t something to arouse unnecessarily. It was frankly dangerous.

MEANWHILE KATY WAS SITTING jauntily beside Danny in the spiffy Alfa Romeo, forcing herself to laugh gaily and pretend wild enthusiasm for the long trip North.

Beside her, Danny Marlone was grinning from ear to ear, his complexion even darker against his perfect white teeth. He gave his companion a warm glance and began to whistle.

“You’ll love the Windy City, baby,” he said. “I’ll show you all the best places. There’s a beach…You’ll love that. I’ve got this big house, all stone, on a hill overlooking the lake, chock-full of servants. You’ll have everything you want. Everything!”

“Darling, I did tell this one itty-bitty white lie,” she said, wanting everything aboveboard.

He caught her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “What itty-bitty white lie?”

She swallowed, trying not to think about Turk and how it had been…“Well, so that my brother wouldn’t kill you, I said we were getting married.”

“Darling! But this is so sudden!” He chuckled, grinning at her.

She just stared, taken aback.

“It sounds great, doesn’t it? Mr. and Mrs. Danny Marlone,” he said, clasping her fingers closer. He laid her open palm on his thigh. “Yeah, I like that. We’ll go whole hog, too. Announcements in all the papers, only the best people at the wedding. Your family can come. Your big brother can give you away. Oh, it’ll be great, honey!”

Her breath lodged in her chest. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing! “But I thought you just—just wanted to have an affair!” she burst out, turning to face him.

“I want you,” he said, and the look in his eyes made her feel oddly humble. That wasn’t lust. That was love, pure and simple, and even while she marveled at being the recipient of it, she ached to have that look from Turk. She never would, now. Never.

“For keeps?” she whispered.

He nodded. He pulled the car to the side of the road and let the engine idle while he stared at her. “For keeps. Let’s get married.”

“I’m not a virgin,” she said straight-out, without going into detail.

“Neither am I. So what?” he asked bluntly.

Her cheeks went rosy. She smiled, feeling really shy. “Well…”

He bent and put his mouth over hers. It wasn’t unpleasant, letting him kiss her. He ran his hands slowly over her shoulders, down over her breasts, and that wasn’t unpleasant, either.

He laughed. “You’re not that experienced, either, chick,” he whispered as she flushed again. He winked at her as he moved back under the wheel and put it in gear. “We’ll get along okay. Now sit back and watch this baby run!” He hit the accelerator, and the car shot forward with a surge of pure power.

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. “But so were you. The world’s changing. If you can’t change with it, you’ll be left behind. Car’s over here.”

He went ahead of them, looking so ruffled and trying so hard to be dignified that Lacy had to fight back a smile.

“No censure?” Cole chided, glancing at her. “I thought you’d jump to his defense.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry you didn’t hit him harder,” she replied calmly.

He stopped walking and looked down at her, finding the same wild spirit in her eyes that he’d seen and liked when she was still in her teens. It would have matched his own—in another time, another place. What a hell of a pity, the way it was between them. Perhaps he should have told her in the very beginning how little he had to offer. He should have told her the truth.

His fingers touched her hair. It was soft and cool, and he wondered why she was so rigid, hardly breathing.

“Does that frighten you?” he asked, searching her eyes. “You’ve stopped breathing.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she confessed in a whisper, returning the soft scrutiny. “I was afraid that if I moved, you’d think I didn’t want you to touch me.”

His fingers actually trembled. “Lacy—”

“Are you two coming with me or not?” Ben called belligerently from the car.

Cole couldn’t help laughing. “Young rooster,” he muttered. “Okay, son. We’re on our way.”

Lacy sighed softly as Cole moved ahead. Thanks, Ben, she thought viciously. Someday I’ll do you a favor!

Just as they reached the car, a small blond whirlwind erupted from a horse and ran pell-mell toward Ben.

“Hi!” Faye Cameron burst out, jumping on to the running board to plant an airy kiss on Ben’s cheek. “I didn’t know you were back from the big city! How are you? Hi, Lacy. Good to see you again. Cole, you’re looking good.”

“What do you want?” Ben muttered, glaring at her. “I told you—I don’t have time to come calling right now. I’m busy.”

“But it’s my birthday party,” Faye told him, her big blue eyes wide and hopeful. “I’ll be eighteen. Oh, Ben…You promised you’d come. It’s tonight!”

Ben shifted his hat on his head and looked and felt uncomfortable. That was the trouble with women, he thought irritably. You took them to bed once or twice and they tried to own you. Still, he thought, watching her, she was a hot little thing in bed, all soft little breasts and hot skin—and she’d do anything in the world to please him. If it hadn’t been for her father, he’d have been over to see her before this. But the old man didn’t like him, and Ben wasn’t sure what Ira Cameron might do if he found out Ben had seduced his only child.

“Gee, honey, I’m sorry,” Ben said soothingly, tweaking her hair gently. “But I’ve just got myself a nice job in San Antonio, writing for a newspaper.”

“Ben, how great!” she burst out, all smiles.

Well, at least he had one person to share his triumphs with. He grinned. “I’ll be the only reporter on the staff, too. Mr. Bradley said I was so good that he wouldn’t need anybody except me! I get a pretty good salary and my own office, and I’ve even been invited to visit the Bradleys at their home.”

“That’s swell, Ben,” Faye said. She frowned. “But doesn’t a big city newspaper need more than just one reporter?”

Ben had wondered about that himself, but he glossed it over. “I’m good, I tell you. And even people in San Antonio know about the ranch and that we’re solid citizens. Mr. Bradley said that was good for business. I’ll come over in a week or two and tell you all about it, okay? But just now I’ve promised to meet my employer and his daughter at their home for dinner,” he added, and Faye seemed to understand. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sure,” Faye said, but it was with a pale smile. So the boss had a daughter. And her Ben was so ambitious…She moved back from the car, all her bright laughter gone, her beauty diminished. “Sure. Well, nice seeing you. ’Bye!”

She ran for her horse, but not before Lacy had seen the pain and tears in her eyes. Poor little thing, she thought bitterly. Ben was so thoughtless!

Cole didn’t say a word. Perhaps he thought Ben was justified. Men!

They got into the car, and Ben cranked the engine. Behind them, Faye Cameron sat tall in the saddle, her young breasts thrusting against the fabric of her yellow shirt, her well-rounded hip emphasized by the jeans. The sun made a halo of her blond curls, made silver tracks of the wash of tears on her pale cheeks. As she watched them drive away, she dashed an angry hand over her wet face.

“I’ll make you care someday, Ben Whitehall,” she whispered brokenly. “Someday, somehow, I’ll make you care!”

She wished she knew more about men. She’d tried to be everything he’d wanted in bed. She’d let him do the most incredible things to her young body without a single protest, when she wondered if it was quite normal. He’d even kissed the inside of her thighs!

Of course, Ben was experienced. He’d told her once about one of his women, describing in detail exactly what he’d done to her. Faye had turned red and gasped at the brazen conversation, but she’d listened all the same. And when he’d finished, and Ben saw the look on her face, he’d thrown her down on the bed and taken her, standing up, her thighs in his strong hands as he looked down at her body on the bed; then he’d laughed as he shuddered with completion. The memory made her hot all over. She shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, her lips parted, her breasts gone hard with desire. She wanted him to follow her home and make love to her. But he wasn’t going to do that. She’d have to wait until he could fit her into his busy life.

She turned the horse slowly, hurting as she never had before. If only she could read and write, if only she were intelligent and educated. Ben only wanted her in bed because she wasn’t smart enough to associate with him in public. But maybe if she got pregnant, he’d want her. Her lips pursed. Yes. Maybe that was the only way she’d ever get him. And Cole would make him marry her. She smiled. It would be poetic justice, even, since it was Ben who’d forced Cole to marry Lacy. She sat up straighter as she urged her mount into a canter. It was a beautiful day after all. It felt good to be eighteen and already a woman.

Behind her, the roadster lurched into motion as Ben pushed down the accelerator. He wondered if Faye was going to be difficult. She was a sweet kid, but that Jessica Bradley was some chick! He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better than doing to the sleek brunette what he’d been doing to little Faye. Only more of it. He began to whistle as the car went racing madly down the long dirt road toward Spanish Flats.

Chapter

Five

Ben had the top down, and the old 1914 runabout was filled with choking dust. It was a good thing his mother had stopped him from putting that Lizzie label on it, Lacy thought wryly, or people would have done some staring. GIRLS, WATCH YOUR STEP-INS painted on the side would have drawn a few eyes! That fad had really caught on with the young people, even in Spanish Flats.

The runabout was a tight fit for the three of them. It was as old as Cole’s big Ford touring car, but few local people could afford new cars anyway. Just to be able to own a Tin Lizzie was quite a feat following the war, given the problems of depending on agriculture for a living. Lacy felt her lungs filling with dust, but she held her tongue. Cole was used to dust; he lived with it day in and day out. He’d only think less of her for acting like the tenderfoot she sometimes was.

Sitting close beside her, his long arm over the back of the seat, Cole stared straight ahead, his body as taut as drawn cord. Lacy felt that tension and was puzzled by it. Surely the argument with Ben hadn’t caused it, and she was certain it wasn’t proximity to her. Perhaps it was the memories young Ben had unwittingly aroused. Or maybe, she grinned to herself, it was that Ben was driving. Odd that Cole hadn’t protested, but he sometimes indulged his younger brother. And it was obvious how much Ben enjoyed driving. Cole tended to be more at home on horseback. Once he’d driven his big car through a haystack, and the guffawing cowboys who saw him do it were saved from certain death only by divine intervention. It had started raining just as Cole went for the first man. Cole hadn’t driven a lot since then.