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

by Shanna Hatfield

Grant lifted his suit coat from Lacy’s shoulders and tossed it over the newel post. “You will wait here, Mother.” His tone didn’t brook any room for argument.

  With an indignant huff, Imogene marched across the parlor and plopped onto the middle of the settee. “This may be your home, Grant, but I forbid you to let that girl spend the night in this house. Have you no morals left at all?”

  Lacy and Grant both glared at her.

  Grant made a growling sound while angry sparks shot from his eyes and grim lines bracketed his mouth. He took Lacy’s hand in his, meshing their fingers together, and led her down the hall to the kitchen.

  Betty took down cups and set cookies on a plate as they entered the warm, spacious room. Grant held out a chair for Lacy. Once she was seated, he paced the floor behind her while Betty made the tea and set a steaming cup, along with sugar and cream, in front of Lacy.

  “Would you like a cup, Mr. Hill?” Betty asked as she started to pour a second cup.

  “No, thanks, Betty. You go ahead.” Grant held out a chair for Betty then sank down beside Lacy as she sipped her tea.

  To break the uncomfortable silence, Betty asked Lacy about her job at the telephone office. The three of them discussed the wonders of modern communications while Lacy and Betty drank their tea. No one seemed interested in food, so the cookies remained untouched.

  The moment Lacy set down her empty teacup, Grant rose to his feet and helped her stand. “Betty, would you mind coming upstairs and helping Lacy settle in for the night?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Hill.” Betty followed as Grant led Lacy up the back stairs and down the hall. He opened the door to a room decorated in soothing green tones with lacy cream curtains at the windows and a thick cream carpet on the floor.

  Lacy glanced around in awe. “This room is too nice, Grant. I can just stay in the parlor. I …”

  Grant interrupted her. “No. I want you to stay here. Betty’s room is right next door if you should need anything. I must attend to a matter downstairs, but I’ll check in on you before I turn in for the night.”

  He mouthed “thank you” to Betty then stepped out of the room. Livid, he marched down the front stairs and to the parlor where his mother stared into the flames of the fire with an imperious look on her face.

  Grant loosened his tie and untucked his shirt before taking a seat across from Imogene. “Mother, not that it is any of your business or concern, but Lacy will stay in the green room next to Betty. Earlier this evening, one of her friends was attacked, beaten, and left on her doorstep. Threats were made, so she’s staying here until the law brings in the man who did this.”

  “What was the girl who was hurt doing off the reservation?”

  Frustrated, Grant ran his hand across his head, creating furrows in his thick hair. “Bertie Hawkins lives with her brother, Bobby, here in town. You’ve met them at church. Miss Hawkins works with Lacy at the telephone office.”

  “Oh. Well, I assumed…”

  “What, mother? That only an Indian girl from the reservation should warrant an attack from some horrid man who goes around threatening young girls. He’s been in trouble before for making threats, ogling girls, and leering at them.” Grant wanted to reach over and shake his mother for her prejudiced attitude. What difference did the color of a person’s skin make or where they were born matter when innocent girls were being attacked?

  “And the man to whom you keep referring? Who is he?” Imogene fiddled with a handkerchief she held in her hands.

  “Richard Kent. He works down the street from me in the surveyor’s office.” Grant leaned back in the chair, wondering where the coward hid. He’d known all along something was off with Kent, but he never would have expected him to beat a defenseless girl and make threats against Lacy.

  Grant shuddered to think of what the depraved man would have done to her had she not gotten away from him at the ball.

  “Why, he’s such a nice man. I had a lovely visit with him at the ball the other evening.” Imogene fluttered her handkerchief as she tilted her nose into the air. “He spoke quite eloquently about the current unsettling state of things in this community. It’s a disgrace the way local law enforcement and the agent at the reservation let just anyone run around town, causing problems. We discussed Miss Williams at length. She should not be allowed to work in town and do as she pleases.”

  “Mother!” Grant bellowed as he jumped to his feet and loomed over the woman, his face crimson with rage. “How could you? How dare you!”

  He snatched the handkerchief Imogene continued to play with out of her hand and tore it into pieces, tossing it back at her. “Kent has tried to attack any number of girls and has beaten more than a few of the working girls, although none will file a formal complaint against him. He tried to attack Lacy not long after she moved to town. Kade and Lars both warned him to leave her alone. Lars threatened to shoot him if he so much as set foot at Dogwood Corners. He showed up at the ball and assaulted Lacy. She barely got away from him. Because she spurned his vile intentions, he’s beaten her friend and sent a warning that I’m next on the list.”

  “Well, perhaps she shouldn’t have refused him.” Imogene glared at her son. So sure she was right in her biased outlook, she didn’t even listen to the words he spoke.

  Shocked, Grant stepped back from his mother’s seat. “He planned to ruin her, Mother! You have no idea what that sick man has done or is capable of doing.”

  At Imogene’s startled look, Grant leaned over her again. “You encouraged him, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” Imogene flinched at his accusation, but he continued. “What if it was Eleanor, or Maude, or Agnes that he’d stalked and threatened? What if it was one of their girls? Would you be so cruel and uncaring then? When did you turn into such a cold, contemptible woman?”

  Left speechless by Grant’s outburst, Imogene’s mouth worked up and down although no words poured out.

  Grant stalked over to the doorway and stared at her for a long moment. “Have Betty pack your things in the morning. I’ll put you on a train heading east, Mother, but until you come to your senses, I won’t have a further thing to do with you. You are no longer welcome here.”

  “Grant, no. I just…” Imogene stood and held out a hand to him.

  “You just, what? Wanted to run my life? Decide who’s good enough for me and who isn’t? You thought it best to stir up trouble, spread horrible lies about someone I love?” At the astounded look on his mother’s face, Grant let out a derisive snort. “That’s right, Mother. I love Lacy. I’m in love with her, and if she’ll have me, I plan to marry her. If you want to have any part in my life in the future, you had better figure out how you are going to apologize to her for your despicable actions and cutting comments. Most likely, Lacy will forgive you. That’s the sort of person she is — forgiving, honest, caring. It’s not going to be quite as easy for me.”

  Grant sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. “The truth of it, Mother, is that we aren’t good enough for her. Money doesn’t buy kindness or class or a good heart, does it? Lacy possesses everything I could ever want in a woman, even if she doesn’t meet your warped standards for a suitable bride.”

  “Son, please hear me out…” Imogene crossed the room and placed a hand on his arm.

  “Not tonight, Mother. I’ve heard about all out of you I can stand. What would Father say if he were here to witness what you’ve done? Do you think he’d approve of your spiteful, hateful attitude? How could you look at Lacy, see her tender spirit, and encourage that beast to pursue her? You’re no better than he is.”

  Imogene could no longer subdue or control her sobs. In the past, Grant would have comforted her until she felt better. Instead, he gave her one last, dismissive glance then walked with a tired step out the front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Grant leaned against a porch post and released a weary, disappointed sigh. He stared into the inky darkness and wondered if his mother had always been so nasty. Perhaps her current
attitude derived from the fact he and his sisters had catered to her every whim since their father passed away.

  Whatever the reason, he couldn’t believe she had spoken with Richard Kent and encouraged the man in his vile attentions toward Lacy. Grant supposed his mother had no notion of what the pervert had planned.

  Regardless, he meant what he said to her. If she wanted to be included in his life, she would have to not only accept Lacy, but also change her entire attitude about the girl he loved.

  Through the years, he’d put up with his mother’s nonsense without saying a word, but he was finished. He’d wire his sisters in the morning and provide the details about why he’d kicked Imogene out of his house.

  “You should probably stay inside, Mr. Hill.” The deputy spoke from the shadows at the end of the porch.

  Grant straightened and moved to the door. “I suppose you’re right. Give me about thirty minutes, and I’ll turn the lights off downstairs.”

  “That’d be fine, Mr. Hill.”

  Hesitant to endure another round with his mother, Grant opened the door and stepped inside. The parlor was empty and all seemed quiet downstairs, so he ventured upstairs. Voices lured him to Lacy’s room.

  He peeked around the edge of the door and saw Lacy sitting in bed with her arms wrapped around her upraised knees. Betty sat on the end of the bed, listening to Lacy tell her a story about a coyote and a river monster. Grant quietly listened, enraptured by the sound of Lacy’s voice as well as the story. She’d told him several stories her grandmother had shared with her, but he hadn’t yet heard this tale.

  When she finished, he stepped inside the door and smiled. “I think that’s almost as good as the story about Coyote foolishly losing his eyes and replacing them with flowers.”

  Hurriedly, Betty got to her feet and moved to the door. Lacy smiled at her. “Thank you, Betty, for your kindness. I so appreciate your help.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. Pleasant dreams to you.” Betty rushed from the room and disappeared into her own room next door while Grant leaned against the doorjamb. Lacy wore a frilly white nightgown but had the sheet pulled up to nearly her chin. White sleeves covered the arms she still had wrapped around her legs and a bit of lace encircled her slender neck. Her cheek rested against her knees as she stared at him.

  For a moment, he let his gaze linger on the abundance of her dark hair, unbound and flowing over her shoulders and down her back. It glistened in the light and beckoned to him.

  If he took a step closer to the bed, he wouldn’t be able to leave Lacy alone. Not when his hands longed to explore the thickness of her hair and his lips hungered to taste hers again and again.

  Everything in him wanted to wrap Lacy in his arms and never let her go. That was the reason he kept his feet rooted to the floor at the doorway.

  “Do you need anything, Lacy? Is there anything I can get for you?”

  Slowly, she raised her head and gave it a small shake. “No, Grant. I’ll be fine. Betty was kind enough to allow me to borrow one of her nightdresses and made sure I settled in comfortably. This room is so lovely and the bed is wonderful.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Grant pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep from reaching out to her.

  Lacy looked so vulnerable and wounded as she focused her dark eyes on his. “Grant, I’m sorry about all this. If it wasn’t for me…” Her voice caught. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t…”

  Three swift strides carried Grant to the side of the bed. He bent down and braced one arm against the headboard while his hand tenderly cupped Lacy’s chin and raised her face upward. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have fallen in love, never have experienced the wonder of loving someone so special. You did nothing wrong, Lacy. Richard Kent is a sick, horrible man and he will be brought to justice. I’m just so grateful nothing happened to you. With the deputy downstairs and me down the hall, I want you to rest. We’ll keep you safe.” He bent down and placed a soft kiss to her forehead, breathing in her unique, entirely alluring scent. “If you need anything, ask Betty, or come find me. My room is the last door at the end of the hall.”

  “Thank you, Grant,” Lacy whispered, overwhelmed with all that had transpired that day. “I love you.”

  He bracketed her face with his hands and dropped a quick kiss to her nose, causing her to smile. “And I love you, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

  The next morning, Grant entered the kitchen to find Betty cooking breakfast and his mother sitting at the table, dressed. Much to his surprise, she appeared repentant and exhausted.

  “Grant, I’m so terribly sorry.” Imogene held a hand out to him. “I couldn’t sleep a wink last night thinking about what I said, what I’ve done. You’re right. Your father would be horribly disappointed in me, in who I’ve become. Oh, sweetheart, do you think you can ever, ever forgive me?”

  Hesitantly, Grant accepted the hand his mother held out to him. He sat down beside her and looked long and hard into her red-rimmed eyes, studying her for an intense moment. Although she could be quite dramatic and theatrical, he read the anguish and regret on her face, along with the bleary lines around her eyes and mouth caused by a lack of sleep and worry.

  “I will forgive you, Mother, but it doesn’t mean I’m not still upset with you. The one you truly need to apologize to is Lacy. You’ve treated her deplorably and said such awful things to her. Things no one should ever say to anyone.”

  “I know.” Imogene dabbed at her tears. “I nearly ran into her room in the middle of the night to beg her forgiveness, but I didn’t want to disturb her rest. After you went to bed, I realized how horrid I’ve behaved, not just to you and Lacy, but to your sisters, too. I’m sorry.”

  Gratified by his mother’s admission, Grant leaned over and kissed her plump cheek. “I’m glad to hear that, Mother. Actually, I have something I want to discuss with you later, when this business with Kent is put to rest. If you truly and honestly are sorry, you may stay here, for now. However, if you so much as whisper one unkind word about Lacy, even to yourself, I will toss you out on your ear.”

  Uncertain whether her son teased or was entirely serious, Imogene bobbed her head up and down in agreement. Despite the fact she didn’t deserve it, Grant was a forgiving, gentle-hearted man. She just hoped Lacy would be as willing to forgive her for her unacceptable behavior.

  Grant rose to his feet and squeezed her hand before he turned toward the door. “I’m going to run upstairs and see if Lacy is ready to join us for breakfast.” Before his mother commented on how inappropriate that might seem, he rushed up the back stairs and down the hall.

  Gently tapping on the guest room door, he waited for Lacy to answer but no sound stirred from inside. He knocked again then opened the door. The bed was made and Betty’s gown was neatly folded across the footboard.

  A glance around the room confirmed Lacy’s absence. He hurried down the hall to the bathroom, but the door stood open.

  Concerned, he raced down the front stairs and checked the parlor, the library, and his office, but they all turned up empty. As he entered the kitchen, hoping he’d find Lacy there, the deputy stepped inside the back door.

  “Have you seen Miss Williams, Butch?”

  “Nope. I thought she was in here with you.” Butch looked behind Grant, as if he expected the girl to materialize.

  “She’s not in the house, at least not anywhere I can find her.” Grant looked at Betty. “Have you seen her?”

  “No, Mr. Hill. Her door was closed and all was quiet when I arose, so I assumed she slept.”

  Grant grabbed the suit coat he’d left draped over a chair and hurried down the hall with his mother and the deputy on his heels. “I’ve got to find her. What if Kent got to her?”

  “I’m coming with you.” The deputy stepped outside when Grant opened the front door and motioned him to precede him down the porch steps

  “Be careful, so
n.” Imogene squeezed his hand and dabbed at the tears that splashed down her cheeks.

  “Stay here and keep the doors locked,” Grant warned his mother, then closed the front door behind him.

  He and the deputy set a brisk pace as they rushed down the hill and made their way to Ilsa’s shop. Both doors were locked and no amount of knocking brought Lacy to the door.

  “I bet she’s at Doc Reed’s, checking on Bertie,” Grant said. He raced across the street then headed in the direction of the doctor’s office.

  Grant barreled inside, barely grabbing the handle of the door before it banged against the wall. Doc Reed stepped out of a room down the hall and stared at him.

  “Morning, Grant. Deputy.” The doctor smiled as he walked into the waiting room.

  “Is Lacy here?” Grant glared at the doctor with a frantic gaze.

  “As a matter of fact, she is.” Doc turned back toward the hallway, motioning Grant to follow him.

  In a small room Doc used for recuperating patients, Lacy sat on a straight-backed chair next to the narrow bed. Bertie rested against a pile of pillows, sipping a cup of tea.

  “Miss Hawkins, it’s good to see you awake.” Grant smiled at the beaten young woman as he stood in the doorway. The deputy mumbled something about checking in with the sheriff and disappeared out the front door. The doctor said he needed a cup of coffee and walked through a doorway at the end of the hall.

  Grant turned his attention to the two females in the room. Apparently, Lacy had returned to her apartment, because she’d changed her clothes and styled her hair.

  Although he wanted to pull her into his arms and give her a lecture about frightening him half to death, he kept a smile on his face and focused on Bertie. “How are you feeling today, Miss Hawkins?”

  “Like I’ve been run over by a freight wagon, or maybe the train.” Bertie grimaced when she tried to smile. “Don’t worry, though, Mr. Hill. I’ll be fine.”

  “When will your brother be home?” Lacy asked, concerned about her friend. Although Bertie put up a good front, the attack had left her terrorized.