Lacy

by Diana Palmer

  Garnett eyed him for an entire minute while wheels turned in his mind. Hemmingway was making a name for himself, like several others, with characters whose decadent behavior heralded the boredom and alienation of an entire generation. Ben's book was different, dwelling on what was positive about morality. Five years ago, it would have been laughable. Now, it was another form of avant-garde literature.

  "All right,"he said after a minute. "Let me read the manuscript. I'll consider it."

  Ben let out a whoop that temporarily interrupted the flow of conversation. "Thank you!"

  "Wait until you hear the verdict," Garnett said warily. "You may change your mind."

  "Not a chance!"

  That night, he sat down and wrote a long letter to Cole, telling about his potential success. He cursed the length of time it would take to get to the ranch even as he sealed it. He'd asked about the others, especially about Faye. Lacy had written that the girl was doing well and that she was in good health. Ben wondered about the child, about how Faye would manage. If he could get a good price for his novel, he could send her some money. Lacy would help her, but it wasn't Lacy's responsibility, it was his. He shouldn't allow a child to suffer for his lapse of control.

  He leaned back in his chair, remembering how tenderly he and Faye had loved that long-ago afternoon. He'd never been with any woman the way he'd been with her. He missed her. She probably didn't miss him, he realized. But his life was never going to be complete without her in it.

  Impulsively he pulled another sheet of paper toward him and began to write to Faye. Perhaps by now she'd have forgiven him enough to listen to his side of things.

  christmas day was only a few days off when Cole met a nattily dressed Blake Wardell at the railroad station in San Antonio. He'd told no one where he was going or why; he'd simply taken the old black runabout and driven to the city.

  He'd wondered if he was going to recognize Wardell, since he'd never seen the man. Lacy had given him Katy's description, which helped. But the very posture and dress of the man set him apart. He was wearing a beaver-trimmed overcoat, with an expensive wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his forehead. Uncannily, for a spilt second he reminded Cole of Turk in his posture and size and the way he held that cigar. Turk smoked cigarettes now, but he'd been fond of cigars when they were in France.

  Wardell was older than he'd realized, but still fit-looking, and even out of his element he was vaguely intimidating to passengers disembarking around him.

  Cole had worn his best dark suit to the station, with matching boots and Stetson. He didn't want to give the impression of poverty-—even if he was facing foreclosure.

  He moved closer to the stranger and stopped, just staring at him.

  Wardell turned. He had large, dark brown eyes, deep set in a face as dark and formidable as Cole's own. He returned the quiet scrutiny, his wide mouth finally cracking in a faint smile.

  "You're Whitehall." He nodded.

  "Which makes you Wardell."

  The older man chuckled. "Aren't you afraid to be seen in public with a hood like me?" he asked, his eyes narrow and challenging. "I'm a bad man."

  "That makes two of us," Cole said. "Coffee or booze?" he offered, because he knew where to get both, Prohibition or not.

  "Coffee, if I get a choice. I've pretty much given up booze. It's starting to taste of soapsuds."

  Cole laughed. "Coffee it is, then."

  He led the way to a small cafe nearby and slid into a booth, waiting to speak until the waitress took their order and went to fill it.

  "How is she?"Wardell asked. He'd taken off his hat, and he had thick, dark hair sprinkled with gray. He looked more like a banker than a mobster.

  "She's fine..." Cole grimaced and ran a hand through his own dark hair. "Oh, hell! She's not fine. She took an overdose of pills earlier in the week and damned near killed herself. All of us are watching her like hawks."

  Wardell went pale. "I was afraid of that," he said. "A girl like Katy isn't meant for experiences like the one she had. I'll bet she'd never seen a dead body in her life—and I put that one in her way. She blames me, doesn't she?"

  "She hasn't said one word against you since she's been home," Cole said firmly. "She said you were the only person in Chicago who even tried to help her. Katy's like me. She never forgets a favor."

  Wardell took a deep breath. "Marlone was a dirty little rat," he muttered. "My God, I hated him!" He looked up as the young waitress brought coffee, and he gave her a smile that made her flush. He chuckled, watching her walk away. "You don't see many girls who blush where I come from," he told Cole. "That's what I liked about Katy. I could make her blush without trying." He fingered his coffee cup. "What are we going to do about her, Whitehall?"

  "Turk isn't lucid," Cole began. "But, he thinks..."

  "He's the ace?"Wardell asked, his expression as belligerent as Turk's was when Wardell's name was mentioned.

  Cole had to smother a grin at the irony. "Turk thinks Katy's missing you," he said. "And that's why she tried to take her life."

  Wardell's dark eyes glowed with hunger for a moment before he shrugged his broad shoulders and looked down at his coffee. "No,"he said, shaking his head. "I'd give anything to believe it. But I know how Katy feels about me. It's that blond mule she wants. She'd walk through hell to get to him. How can he not know it?"

  "He hasn't been himself since she left. He's even worse since she came home. When we took her to the hospital, I had to knock him down to make him let go of her. He hasn't said two words since the doctor released her, but he's terrified to let her out of his sight. She won't even talk to him."

  Wardell stared at him quietly. "He loves her that much, does he?" He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back to relight the cigar he'd laid in the ashtray. He studied it for a moment before he spoke. "Katy would have died for him." He looked directly into Cole's eyes. "Love like that doesn't wear out. So what did he say to her that made her think he didn't want her?"

  "Nobody knows. Katy won't talk and neither will he. I gather that it had something to do with you. My wife thinks that Lacy's convinced herself that she's too soiled to appeal to him anymore."

  "And is that the way he thinks?"Wardell asked curtly.

  "He's not a hypocrite," Cole said simply. "He's been around."

  He drank his coffee in silence. "Was Katy what you wanted to see me about,"he asked, "or did you have something else in mind?"

  Cole smiled to himself. "You're shrewd."

  "That's why I'm rich." His eyes narrowed. "If you're offering me a partnership, I'll bite "he added, anticipating Cole's next question and grinning at the younger man's shock. "I told you I'd gone legit. I own an interest in a grocery wholesale house in Chicago. Part interest in a ranch fits right into my plans. Not that I want to be a working partner," he said firmly. "I'd rather eat a horse than have to ride one."

  The younger man chuckled at the thought of this dignified city man on one of his broncs. "Point taken."

  "Then let's talk business. Tell me what you're offering."

  The discussion took the better part of an hour. At the end of it, Wardell had a working knowledge of the cattle industry and a good idea of what partnership would entail.

  "Katy can't ever know," he told Cole quietly.

  "Katy never will," he was assured.

  What neither of them knew was that Katy had overheard Cole talking to Wardell on the telephone the night before. She'd caught Turk with his back turned and caged a ride into town with one of the neighbors. And although it took her a little while to locate the two men, she did it.

  She pulled her fur-collared coat closer around her thin body, opened the door of the cafe, and walked in. It was very sparsely occupied at this time of day, and Wardell would have stood out anywhere. Katy had taken all she could of Turk's judgmental contempt. She might not love Wardell, but he loved her. She could go away with him—and she wouldn't have to suffer Turk's distaste for her anymore.

  "Blake," she sa
id softly, pausing by the table.

  He looked up. His eyes widened. "Katy!"he whispered roughly. He got to his feet, and Katy ran into his arms, to be swallowed up like the most priceless treasure.

  She held on for all she was worth, feeling safe now, warm and safe. She closed her eyes, trembling.

  Wardell looked like a man clinging by his fingernails to heaven while fires beckoned underneath. He glanced over her shoulder at Cole with helpless anguish.

  "Katy, what are you doing here?" Cole asked gently.

  "I heard you talking," she said happily into Wardell's coat. "I had to come. Blake, take me back to Chicago. I don't want to stay here."

  Wardell's eyes closed on a wave of agony. How could he refuse her? But if he let her go with him, he'd always know that he was only second best, that she was eating her heart out for the man she really loved.

  "You can't run away, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear. "Don't you know that?"

  "He doesn't want me," she said desperately. She lifted her face. "Tell him, Cole! Turk doesn't want me! He thinks I'm too low to even touch. He looks at me as if I disgust him!"

  Cole searched for the right words. "Katy, you've got it all wrong," he said. "Turk doesn't think you're low. He cares about you."

  "No, he doesn't," she said tearfully. "He asked me why I didn't go back to Blake, to Chicago. Don't you see he wanted me to leave?"

  "Shouldn't you let him tell you that?" Cole asked gently.

  "It's too late," she whispered miserably. She dabbed at tears and looked up at Wardell, who was fighting his better judgment tooth and nail. "Can't I go with you?" she asked.

  His jaw tautened. He couldn't refuse her. But if he didn't, her life was going to go from bad to worse. She wasn't rational enough to make such an important decision. His eyes went to Cole's finding the same impotence there.

  A loud voice calling Katy's name caught their attention. A tall cowboy was striding up and down the street, his batwing chaps swinging with his terse strides, his hat pulled low and dangerous over his pale eyes, his blond hair peeking out from under the brim. He paused and looked toward the cafe, through the window. He threw down his cigarette and stormed in at once, his face as hard as Cole's.

  "So that's why you came to town," he said shortly. He stopped a few feet away and looked at Wardell with pure hatred. "If you want her, you'll have to beat me to death to get her,"he challenged, his light eyes glittering with anger. "If she goes, I've got no reason left to live anyway."

  Wardell watched Katy's face color. She looked at Turk with shocked green eyes, not sure that she'd heard him right.

  "You—you don't want me," she stammered. "You think I'm low. You can hardly even bear to look at me; you're forever throwing that night up to me. You asked me why I didn't go back to Chicago. All right, I'm going." Her voice broke and she rested her head on Wardell's broad chest, clinging to his coat. "Now, leave me alone!"

  "I don't think you're low," Turk said hesitantly, scowling. "Where in hell did you get an idea like that?"

  "From you." She felt Wardell's big arm contract around her comfortingly. She glanced across his chest at Turk. "I disgust you."

  Turk grimaced. His eyelids actually flinched as he held his hands out in a helpless gesture. "Katy, that's not true. I swear to God it's not!"

  She closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see the pain in his eyes. "You don't want me," she said dully.

  "Want you?" His big fists clenched at his side. He glared at her, his tall form almost trembling with rage. "You stubborn, blind little fool! How can you be so dim?"

  "You said to go away!"

  "I thought you loved him! "he raged, barely aware of the atten­tion he was drawing to them. "I even asked if you did, and you wouldn't answer me!" He glared at Wardell and then back at her. "Can't you recognize blind jealousy? I thought you wanted him instead of me!"

  She cringed back against Wardell, staring at Turk. "He doesn't yell at me!"

  "He should "Wardell said thoughtfully. He looked down at her with pure tenderness, a little sad as he realized how completely she belonged to the furious blond man facing them. "You don't look, do you, honey?" he asked gently. "Look at him." He turned her chin. "Go on, look."

  She did. And suddenly she realized why Turk was so furious, why he was practically vibrating with rage. He was jealous. Murderously jealous. He could barely contain it. Could a man feel like that out of desire, or pity, or even guilt?

  "She's dim, all right." Wardell nodded. "You're a textbook case, birdman. You should never have let her go in the first place."

  "Don't you think I know that?"Turk asked the older man, his eyes fiercely possessive as they glanced off him and back to Katy's pale face. "Come home, Katy," he said.

  She didn't move or speak. Her eyes were wide, wounded, as she stared at him.

  "I think you should," Wardell told her, his face serious. "Chicago is a raw, young place—full of bad men like me. You're a little orchid who needs a hothouse, not an icebox. You'd wither all over again if I took you back there."

  She nibbled on her lower lip, her expression eloquent. She looked at Cole for help.

  "It's your decision, Katy," he told her. "I can't make it for you."

  Wardell tugged on a lock of her hair under her pert cap. His eyes softened as he looked at her. "This time, kid, you'd better follow your heart."

  She sighed. "I want to love you," she whispered, so that only he could hear.

  His jaw tautened. "We don't love according to plan, though, do we?"

  She smiled tearfully. "No."

  He looked over her head. "She'll be along in a minute." Turk hesitated, but Cole maneuvered him away from them, persuading him not to make matters worse.

  Wardell waited until they were out of earshot. He traced Katy's nose with a big finger. "He loves you. He can't quite bring himself to say it, but it shows."

  She drew in a soft breath. "I'm so confused."

  "All the more reason for you not to make a sudden decision on something this important. I'll be around, pretty girl," he assured her. "I'm as close as the post office or the telephone. I'll always be somewhere nearby... That's a promise."

  Her green eyes searched his dark ones and she flushed, re­membering the night they'd been lovers. He looked so torn. She had to do something for him, make that horrible emptiness leave his eyes. The truth might just do it. She owed him that.

  "That night," she whispered, "I told myself I was pretending you were Turk. But I wasn't." Her cheeks flooded with color as she heard his sharply indrawn breath. "That night, it—it was only you. I wasn't thinking of anyone else."

  He made a rough sound and turned his head. He felt the sting of moisture in his eyes as the poignant bittersweetness of the admission stabbed at his heart.

  "Thank you for that," he said jerkily.

  She paused to get herself in control again. She stared at his chest. "I'll never forget you, even when I'm old."

  "But it's the blond ace you can't live without," he added for her. She nodded. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be." He tilted her face up to his quiet eyes and he looked at her, imprinting her on his memory. "I won't be taking anything away from him if I cherish the time we had. He'll have his own memories."

  "Yes."

  His hand touched her face very gently. Then, smiling, "You'd better go. Your brother is losing his grip on him." "I'll miss you, Blake."

  "I'll want to see a photograph of the kids when they come along," he said. He glared over her head at a scowling Turk. "I hope they take after you, poor little kids."

  "Aren't you finished yet?"Turk asked curtly.

  Wardell stuck both his hands in his coat pockets and pursed his lips as he studied Katy. "Go home."

  She searched his eyes. "Good-bye."

  "So long."

  She hesitated, but Turk had had enough. He moved forward, catching her possessively by the hand.

  "Don't expect a Christmas card," he told Wardell. "You're breaking my heart.
"

  Turk pulled her out of the cafe, his hard face unyielding, leaving Cole behind with Wardell.

  "Will you stop dragging me?" Katy gasped, protesting his firm hold.

  "Stop lagging back," he countered. He didn't look at her. "What was that hushed conversation all about?"

  "We were talking about the good times we had!" she raged, lashing out.

  He stopped and looked down at her with furious eyes, almost shaking with rage.

  She shivered at the look, pulled her coat closer He was at the outer edge of his control, so she decided not to tempt fate. Turk in a temper was dangerous. She dropped her eyes to his broad chest. "You followed me," she said accusingly.

  "I wasn't going to let you go out alone—not after what you'd already tried to do," he said doggedly.

  She didn't like remembering what she'd tried to do. But she hadn't known that Turk cared that much. She'd thought he was trying to make her go away again. She still wasn't quite sure of him, despite what he'd said to Wardell. And he looked more murderous than amorous at the moment.

  "How did you get into town?" she asked nervously.

  "I hitched a ride, same as you did. Now we'll both have to wait for Cole before we can go home." He dropped her hand and stared at her. "Do you know where he left the car?"

  She looked around the square until she found it, parked in front of a towering oak tree. "It's over there."

  He walked with her to it and drew her down on a bench that faced the car and the street, near the statue of a Confederate soldier who stood guard over Spanish Flats. Lacy's people had settled here from Georgia, most notably her great-uncle Horace, who'd made his fortune in nearby San Antonio.

  Katy clutched her purse, snapping and unsnapping the catch while Turk rolled and lit a cigarette, crossing his long legs as he glared down at her.

  "You don't love Wardell?" he asked.

  "I suppose I do, in a way," she said sadly. "But not enough to go away with him, and not in the way he wants me to. If I did go with him, I'd be cheating him. It's a very empty thing, desire without love. I learned that from you."