Lacy: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Pendleton Petticoats Book 5)

by Shanna Hatfield

  For a moment, he appeared uncomfortable and unsure. He quickly returned to an undefeatable warrior. “Because your father continues to promise you will marry me and I long for the day you will belong to me. I also wished to set eyes on your face.”

  It was as close as Phillip had ever come to saying he liked her, wanted her, found her even the least bit attractive.

  A few months ago, she would have been flattered by Phillip’s insistence they wed, even if she had no intention of becoming his wife. He was the son of a respected chief and would most likely become one in his own right. The wife of a chief held a certain amount of reverence and a position in the tribe.

  However, she’d done the unthinkable and moved into Pendleton where she met Grant.

  After his kisses the other night, Lacy had thought of little else. Her feet fairly floated when she walked and she’d even started humming a song she’d heard Ilsa singing to Laila the other day.

  Grant made her feel beautiful and wanted, funny and charming, smart and witty. Being with him made her believe anything was possible. Anything. His tender touches and the way his eyes smoldered with longing when he’d kissed her lips rendered her helpless, but far from hopeless.

  Lacy allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of building a future with Grant, of being his wife.

  Oh, she knew it was silly and ridiculous. At some point, he’d realize her heritage would prevent them from following their hearts. Lacy expected one day to see her father outside the telephone office, ready to drag her back to the reservation. Back to a life she didn’t want to live.

  Phillip served as a reminder of what she wanted to forget and leave behind.

  She glanced up at the man on the horse and felt pity for him, for a way of life he couldn’t or wouldn’t relinquish. “Phillip, nothing has changed. I still won’t agree to marry you.”

  He glowered at her. “It matters not what you do or don’t agree to. You will marry me, of that you can be certain.”

  Lacy took a faltering step back. Phillip reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her against his leg. “I grow tired of waiting for you to find your way back to your people, to what is right. Don’t keep me waiting much longer, Lacy.” He released his hold on her arm and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “It is not good for a girl as comely as you to be here, to be alone. The day will arrive when I come for you and you will no longer refuse me.”

  Phillip turned the horse into the street and rode away. He glanced back at her once, piercing her with his gaze, before he turned a corner and disappeared.

  Despite the warmth of the day, Lacy brushed her hands along her chilled arms. She hurried back into the telephone office and regained her seat at the switchboard. As she settled the headset over her dark hair, she glanced around. The other women stared at her.

  “Who was that?” Bertie asked, plopping into the chair beside her.

  “The man my father insists I marry.”

  “Might we assume marriage to him does not hold your interest?” Millie asked, taking a seat on the other side of her. Susan hurried to answer a call while the other women waited for Lacy’s response.

  “Not at all. Phillip is… oh, um… he’s…” Lacy inhaled a deep breath to calm her nerves and gather her thoughts. “Phillip, like my father, is so tightly bound by tradition, he can’t move forward into the present and has no hope for the future. The man still lives in a tipi, for goodness sakes.”

  Millie grinned and Bertie bumped Lacy’s arm with her elbow. “He might be a little primitive, but good gracious, do all the men out at the reservation look like that? Your Phillip is quite a magnificent specimen of manhood.”

  Lacy rolled her eyes and gave her friend a playful nudge. “First of all, he’s not my Phillip. Second, not everyone is like him. Third, even if he is an annoying pain, he isn’t hard on the eyes.”

  Millie laughed while Bertie and Lacy giggled. The women set aside their humor as the phone lines all lit up at once.

  Grant stood on a stool at his favorite men’s clothing store, patiently waiting while the tailor fit him for a new suit. He generally ordered a new suit in the spring, and one again in the fall. It was important for a successful banker to look well groomed and fashionable.

  Admittedly, Grant took pride in his dapper appearance, even if he liked to maintain a little rugged edge to it.

  Just because he was a banker who spent the majority of his days behind a desk didn’t mean he had to be pale-skinned with smooth hands. Grant kept fit and, on occasion, enjoyed working outdoors with his friends. Garrett and Aundy Nash always welcomed him anytime he felt the inclination to spend the day outdoors riding fence or chasing cattle. He drew the line at helping with wheat harvest, though. He’d done that once and discovered he possessed an acute allergy to wheat chaff.

  After wondering whether he’d survive the allergy attack or die, he stayed far away from all the farms and ranches during wheat harvest. In fact, he usually timed his trip to escort his mother to Boston to his sister Maude’s home during wheat harvest.

  Although he always gave attention to how he looked, lately he’d given even more care to his appearance. He wanted to look nice for Lacy.

  He’d caught her staring at him in admiration a few times. It stoked his ego each time she did. Despite his fancy suits, he thought she liked him best when he wore his denims and a flannel work shirt. She didn’t seem to care about the size of his house or his bank account. Her genuine interest seemed to be for him and him alone.

  Unaffected and honest, Lacy could be entrusted with his heart. He had no fear of her using him for some ulterior motive. If he read her face correctly, she was every bit as smitten with him as he was beguiled with her. He only hoped she’d consider giving them a chance at the future.

  Thoughts of her brought to mind the ardent kisses they’d shared the other evening. Her passionate reaction to his efforts both pleased and surprised him. The sweet taste of her mouth lingered on his lips while the feel of her held close in his arms filled his mind. Barely able to concentrate on his work at the bank, Lacy’s face continually floated on the edge of his thoughts. A hunger for more of her kisses left him distracted and jumpy.

  He didn’t regret the kisses he’d lavished on her the other evening, but he needed to be on his best behavior. It was probably a good thing they’d not had an opportunity to exchange more than a few words of polite conversation the last few days. Otherwise, Grant could picture himself wrapping Lacy in his arms and not letting her go.

  A tap on his foot drew him from his musings about the lovely girl.

  “What do you think, Grant? Do you like this lightweight fabric for the trousers?” The tailor glanced up at him as he stuck the last pin into the hem of the pants. Since Grant was the only one in the store, he pinned in the adjustments to the suit in the middle of the showroom floor. The light was much better there than in the back workroom.

  “The fabric is fine, Ned.” Grant bent his knees and squatted down then stood and stretched out each leg. “It feels tight through the thighs and loose in the seat.”

  “You ought to stop doing all that riding and walking.” Ned offered Grant a teasing grin. “If you’d behave like a normal banker and sit behind your desk, getting fat and lazy, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

  “I’d have an entire new set of problems, like a belly hanging over my waistband.” Grant puffed out his flat stomach and drooped his shoulders. Ned chuckled as he slid a few well-placed pins along the back and sides of the trousers to make the seat fit to Grant’s liking.

  “Say, Ned, did you hear…” Grant’s train of thought derailed when he saw a lone Indian riding down the street past the store’s window.

  The young man looked brave, dangerous, and determined. In fact, Grant had seen him in town on numerous occasions, usually down the street from Ilsa’s shop.

  Suddenly, he wondered if the man held an interest in Lacy.

  Oblivious to Ned and the fact he had pins poking out of his pants, Gra
nt jumped off the stool. He stepped over to the window, craning his neck to see where the man went. When the Indian turned the corner, heading in the direction of the telephone office, Grant hustled toward the door. He stepped on a pin in the hem of his trousers and jerked forward when two poked him in the backside.

  “Ouch!” He grabbed the seat of the pants and pulled the fabric back, hoping to remove the pins pricking him. The action resulted in him spinning around in a dance that left Ned laughing hysterically.

  “Before you turn yourself into a human pincushion, get back over here and let me finish.” Ned pointed to the stool, curtailing his laughter.

  Grant resumed his position on the stool, anxious to finish the fitting so he could see if the man was, in fact, going to see Lacy.

  “What’s got you so antsy? I’ve had six year olds who could stand still better than you.” Ned hurried to work in the last of the pins. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that Indian who rode by and the girl you’re sweet on, would it?”

  Grant glowered at the tailor. Was nothing in town sacred or a secret? “Who said I’m sweet on anyone?”

  Ned guffawed as he set aside a box of pins and tugged on the trouser leg to straighten it. “You’ve sure got the look of a besotted man. Everyone’s seen you squiring Miss Williams around town. It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces of that puzzle together. The questions that pique my interest are who’s the man riding down the street and why are you so vexed?”

  “I don’t know who he is, but I plan to find out.” As soon as Ned took a step back, Grant stepped off the stool and rushed into the dressing room. He drew blood three times before he removed the trousers and pulled on his own. It was a good thing Ned had already fit the jacket and removed it or Grant would have surely poked himself full of holes.

  Hastily ramming an arm into the sleeve of his suit coat, he yanked on his shoes and grabbed his hat.

  “Thanks, Ned. Let me know when it’s ready.” Grant lifted a hand in parting as he sped out the door and down the sidewalk.

  He crossed two streets, mindless of the wagon that nearly ran over him or the horse and rider he almost walked into.

  Intent on reaching Lacy, he raced around the corner only to discover an empty street. Quickly making his way to the telephone office, he glanced inside through the window. All four women were busy answering phone calls.

  Relieved and somewhat embarrassed by his unwarranted panic, he strolled across the street to the bank and returned to work.

  A few minutes before five, he and Loren readied the bank to close for the evening. He sent Loren on his way then watched, as he did most every night, for Lacy to step outside.

  When she did, he locked the door and jogged across the street.

  “May I walk you home, Miss Williams?” Grant lost himself in the rich darkness of her eyes and the brightness of her smile.

  “You may, Mr. Hill.” Lacy began walking toward Ilsa’s shop.

  Grant fell into step beside her and asked about her day. “Anything unusual happen today?”

  “Unusual? Not really. An old friend from the reservation stopped by this afternoon for a brief visit.”

  “Oh? Is your family well?” Grant wondered if she’d explain who the man was, what he meant to her. If he hadn’t watched her so closely, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight stiffening in her posture.

  “They are all well.” Lacy sighed. “Phillip is someone I used to be friends with as a child. My father, and Phillip, decided I will marry him.”

  Grant’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. That explained why he’d seen the man around town. No doubt, he kept an eye on Lacy. “What about you? Do you want to marry him?”

  Her gaze flicked to Grant and she shook her head. “No. I don’t want to marry him. No matter what Phillip or my father say, I have no plans of ever marrying him.”

  “That’s good.” Grant released the breath he’d held, grateful that Lacy wasn’t in love with the handsome young man. He’d have to ask Tony about him. Now that he’d learned the identity of Lacy’s visitor, he was ready to change the subject. “Anything else interesting happen today?”

  “I had to ask Mrs. Olathe to stop listening in on conversations twice this afternoon. Since she only seems to linger when it’s Steven Richardson calling to talk to Paulette Twining, perhaps she’s in need of a little romance.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Lacy laughed and the sound made Grant’s heart do flips inside his chest. “Everyone knows Mr. Richardson is sweet on Miss Twining. He calls at least once a day to profess his undying devotion to her and make plans for their future. Mrs. Olathe might be better served indulging in one of those romance novels I’ve heard about. Susan said her mother bought one. She only read a few chapters before her father discovered it and tossed it out.”

  Grant chuckled. “I didn’t realize you were so interested in romance.”

  Her footsteps slowed to a halt. Lacy gaped at Grant as if he’d spoken in some foreign language she didn’t understand. “There isn’t a female alive, Mr. Hill, that isn’t at least a little interested in romance. Regardless of where they come from, what they do, or who they are, every woman craves romance from time to time.”

  Mindful of Lacy’s advice, Grant tucked it away to examine later. After growing up with three sisters, he was well versed in the yearnings of young girls and their impractical notions of courtship. He was not as familiar with the longings of a woman’s heart.

  “What about you, Lacy? What would you consider romantic?”

  Uncomfortable with his question, Lacy struggled to find an appropriate answer. Her idea of romance wasn’t a grandiose gesture witnessed by many. Bertie had them all laughing when she related a story about one of her brother’s friends. Apparently, the young man stood beneath a girl’s bedroom window, serenading her with a love song. It turned out he got the wrong room and her father dumped a pail of water on the lovesick boy’s head. Lacy didn’t need such a public display to know she was loved.

  Romance was in everyday moments and heartfelt gestures. She thought of all the many things Grant had done to make her smile, bring her a little joy since she moved to Pendleton. Like the day he bought the variety of candy then left it for her to sample. Or the bitterly cold morning he showed up on her walk to work with a cup of hot chocolate for her to drink. Even though the chocolate was only mildly warm, it was the fact he’d gone to the trouble of bringing it to her that made her heart flutter and her knees wobble.

  To her, romance was showing someone you loved them, even if the words remained unspoken.

  Secretly studying Grant as they resumed their walk, she pondered his feelings for her. Based on his tender care and attention, she assumed he loved her, at least with a portion of the emotion she held for him.

  “Help out a man without any notion of what women consider romantic, Lacy. What do you find romantic?”

  The charming smile he gave her almost stole her breath away, but she finally found her voice.

  “You, Grant. I find you romantic.” Lacy stepped inside Ilsa’s shop, ending the conversation.

  Dazed, yet delighted by Lacy’s words, Grant followed her inside.

  Marnie and Ilsa stood close together at the counter with sheets of paper and an inkwell.

  “Hello! You two will be the first to know, and the first invited,” Marnie said, looking at them with a smile.

  “First invited to what?” Grant asked, leaning against the counter while Lacy tried to see what the two women worked on. From what she could surmise, it appeared to be lists.

  “Our spring ball!” Marnie squeezed Lacy’s hand.

  “Marnie and I were talking about dances and springtime. Dogwood Corners has that lovely ballroom that the children use for a playroom. Goodness knows it’s too big for anything else, but we decided to host a ball there the Saturday after Easter.” Ilsa radiated enthusiasm as she picked up a sheet of paper and waved it at Grant. “We’re making lists of people to invite and re
freshments and, oh, goodness… We’ll need to think about ordering extra fabric for new gowns.”

  “By all means, sign me up!” Grant smiled at the women. “It sounds like a fun evening.”

  “It will be. I’m going to have the children work on decorations. Lars agreed to ask the community band to play.” Marnie picked up the pen and jotted a few notes on the list in front of her. “There’s so much to do and so little time to prepare.”

  “May I help with anything?” Lacy asked, uncertain what she could do to help, but eager to join in the fun.

  “Of course! We’ll need your help with planning and decorating.” Ilsa’s grin was as infectious as her excitement. “Aundy will organize the refreshments. Perhaps Millie would send out a general call to announce the ball. We want everyone to know they’re invited.” Ilsa bounced on the balls of her feet, unable to contain her exhilaration.

  Grant hid a smile as Ilsa and Marnie both scribbled more notes on their papers. “I’ll leave you lovely ladies to your preparations.”

  Lacy turned to him. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  “Yes. A few matters require my attention. Have a pleasant evening, Lacy.”

  “Thank you, Grant.”

  She watched him leave, disappointed that he hadn’t lingered and even more distraught that he hadn’t asked her to the dance. Perhaps she’d imagined his interest in her, after all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Imogene Hill gracefully sipped from the fine bone china teacup held primly between her plump, bejeweled fingers.

  With no one around to bear witness to her love of sweets, she helped herself to a third teacake, covered in decadent frosting, and took a petite bite.

  She dabbed at her lips with a linen napkin then draped it across her lap as she looked around her daughter’s parlor. Agnes did well when she accepted William Fontaine’s courtship. Despite his political aspirations, William was kindhearted and generous.

  Nonetheless, Imogene deemed it the height of rudeness and tactlessness to leave town during her visit with them. William insisted Agnes and their two children accompany him on a two-week business trip to Baltimore. While the children seemed excited at the prospect of visiting the city, poor Agnes appeared most beleaguered when she shared the news that they would miss two entire weeks of her visit with them. Imogene had only been at their home in Pittsburgh for a month.