LaceysWay (28 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Matt Drago smiled as he laid his cards on the green baize
tabletop, face up.

“Four queens,” muttered Troy Blackburn. “Damn! I thought
sure you were bluffing.”

“Not this time.” Matt plucked a five-dollar gold piece from
his winnings and dropped it down the ample cleavage of the raven-haired woman
sitting on his knee. “For bringing me luck,” he drawled softly.

“Anytime,
hombre
,” Consuelo replied. She ran her hand
along the inside of his thigh. “Anything, anytime.”

“The pot’s light, Drago,” complained Tom Sully. “You in or
out?”

“I’m in.” He threw ten dollars into the pot, picked up his
cards as they were dealt to him. He had a pair of kings, a jack, a ten, and a
deuce. Not bad. He grinned as Consuelo pressed a kiss to his cheek. She was a
pretty thing, with huge brown eyes and a voluptuous figure that bordered on
plumpness.

“Dammit, Matt,” growled Blackburn. “You gonna make love or
play poker?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, hell. You in or out?”

“I’m in.” He slid another ten dollars into the pot.

“Cards?”

“Two,” Matt requested. He tossed the ten and the deuce onto
the table, picked up his new cards. A jack and another king.
Lucky at cards,
unlucky at love
. The phrase whispered in his mind as he raised his bet by
another ten dollars. He had been in this town for over a month, drinking and
gambling and trying to forget a woman with red-gold hair. After leaving Salt
Creek, he had wandered aimlessly from one town to another, never staying long
in any one place until winter came, and had decided to hole up here for no
other reason than that he liked the town’s only saloon. He had been playing
poker with Blackburn and Sully long enough to know that Blackburn would bet on
anything, and that Sully could out-bluff anybody. They were all gamblers; they
all knew the tricks of the trade, and it made for some of the most exciting
poker Matt had ever played. So far, he figured he was ahead of the game by
about eight hundred dollars.

Consuelo squealed with delight as Matt raked in the second
pot in a row, and stuffed a handful of greenbacks into her bodice. He was
easily the most handsome and most thoughtful man she knew. The other girls in
the saloon were jealous because he never paid them any attention, never took
them upstairs. Of course, he never took Consuelo upstairs, either, but he let
her sit on his lap, and he showered her with hugs and kisses and cash. All in
all, it was a very satisfying arrangement. She had tried many times to lure him
into her bed, but he always refused. That mystified her, for he was obviously a
virile man, one who liked women. And he liked her, she was certain of that.

She smiled as he kissed her cheek. “How about bringing me a
beer?” he asked, and she slid off his lap and walked to the bar, swinging her
hips provocatively in case he was watching her.
Maybe tonight
, she
mused.
Maybe tonight
.

Matt played poker until well after midnight; then, pocketing
his winnings, he took his leave of Blackburn and Sully, kissed Consuelo good
night, and left the saloon.

It was raining outside, a cold steady drizzle that had
turned the streets to mud. Pulling his hat down over his face, he hunched into
his coat and walked down the dark street. As always, once he was alone his
thoughts turned to Lacey. No matter how far he rode, no matter how much he
drank, he could not forget her.

Lacey
. He remembered how she had ridden at his side,
uncomplaining, while they searched for her father. He remembered her tender
concern when he was hurt, her shy sensuality the first time they made love, her
courage in the face of danger and death. His need for her was a constant
gnawing ache, a pain that refused to be dulled by time or distance. He had
loved her as he had never loved anyone, and she had betrayed him in the arms of
another man.

Damn. Why couldn’t he forget her? Abruptly he turned on his
heel and walked swiftly back to the saloon. Consuelo was sitting at one of the
tables, talking to a couple of the saloon girls, when Matt grabbed her by the
arm and hauled her, none too gently, to her feet.

“Come on,” he said tersely, and headed for the rooms above
the saloon. It was time to forget Lacey, time to get on with his own life. He
had been acting like a love-struck boy long enough.

Consuelo’s huge brown eyes were shining with anticipation as
Matt closed the door and took her in his arms. His kiss was hard, brutal, but
she didn’t mind.

Matt kissed her for a long time, his hands playing along her
rib cage, down her hips, over her buttocks. His nostrils filled with the scent
of her, and even as he wrinkled his nose against her cheap perfume and the
smell of beer and tobacco smoke that clung to her, he was remembering Lacey.
She had smelled clean and sweet, like roses on a summer day.

With a groan of despair, he carried Consuelo to the bed and
hastily removed her clothing. Her skin was light brown, smooth, plump, and all
woman. He didn’t resist when she began to undress him. He needed a woman, any
woman.

She moaned softly as he caressed her, her lips softly
yielding, her hands sliding across his broad back. She arched her hips upward,
inviting him to take her.

Matt swore softly as he gazed into Consuelo’s eyes. He had
thought to find relief in the arms of another woman, but it was no use. He
might spend his lust between Consuelo’s plump thighs, but he could never
satisfy his need for Lacey in another woman’s arms. Not if he lived to be a
hundred.

“What is it,
hombre
?” Consuelo purred, her voice deep
and husky, her eyes glazed with passion. She reached for his arm as he started
to rise. “Where are you going?”

“I wish to hell I knew,” Matt muttered. He dressed quickly,
tossed Consuelo twenty dollars, and left the room.

Where are you going?

Consuelo’s question haunted Matt as he rode out of town the
following morning. Where
was
he going? He was tired of living from day
to day, tired of smoke-filled saloons and lumpy beds in cheap hotel rooms. So
damned tired.

It was a cold, windy day when he left another two-bit town
behind. He rode with no destination in mind, letting the horse pick their speed
and direction.

He wound up in a dismal little town south of the border. The
place had little to recommend it other than the fact that he’d never been there
before.

He’d been there almost a week, drinking and gambling in the
town’s only cantina, when Lige Tanner walked through the swinging doors. It
took Matt a few minutes to recognize the man. Tanner had grown a full beard and
a moustache. His hair was long and unkempt, his eyes wary.

“How’s it going, Lige?” Matt asked.

Lige Turner whirled around, his hand reaching for his gun,
his eyes wild. He swallowed hard when he felt Matt’s gun jabbing him in the
side.

“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” Matt mused. “My
grandmother could’ve beat that draw.”

“What do you want, Drago?” Tanner asked. His voice was
scared, like his eyes.

“Thought I’d buy you a drink.”

Tanner looked suspicious. “Why?”

Matt shrugged. “I thought I’d buy you a drink, and you’d
give me a little information.”

“I don’t know anything,” Tanner said quickly.

“Why’d Pitman kill Billy Henderson? You were there that
night. I want to know what happened.”

Tanner shook his head. “I don’t know nothing.”

Matt reared the hammer back on his Colt. “Who are you
protecting, Lige? Who are you afraid of?”

“Nobody, honest. Please, just let me go.”

“It was Tucker, wasn’t it? Pitman pulled the trigger, but it
was Tucker who wanted Billy dead. And I happened to be in the saloon at the
time, dead drunk, so Pitman pinned the murder on me, and you and Gonzalez
backed him up. Right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? Let’s go outside.”

“Why?”

Matt grinned wolfishly. “There’s too many witnesses in here.
I don’t want anybody to see me kill you.”

“Wait a minute, dammit…”

Matt nodded. “Now you’re getting smart. Why’d Tucker want
Billy dead?”

Lige Tanner swallowed hard. He was looking death in the face
and he knew it. J.J. Tucker was miles away, but Drago was here, now, holding a
gun to his ribs.

“Billy got nosey,” Tanner said, the words pouring out of his
mouth. “He started wondering where J.J. got the money to build the Black Horse.
Billy fancied himself quite a detective. He was taking a course by mail,
thought he was Sherlock Holmes or something. He started asking questions of
some of the old-timers, snooping around where he didn’t belong. He found out
who J.J.’s partner had been and, hell, I don’t know how he found out, but he
discovered that J.J. and his partner had sold guns to the Indians. I guess that
went on for quite a while, until Salt Creek started getting civilized. J.J.’s
partner turned up dead soon after that, and J.J. built the saloon.”

“How’d you find out all this?”

“Billy told me one night when he’d had too much to drink. I
happened to mention it to Pitman, and I guess he told J.J. I never knew Pitman
was going to kill Billy. It all happened so fast. Billy was drunk that night,
bragging about how he was going to be a big man in town. He was fast-drawing
his gun, showing off. He challenged Pitman to draw against him to see who was
fastest. Their guns were supposed to be empty, but the next thing I knew, Billy
was dead. Pitman slipped something into your drink when the bartender wasn’t
looking, and when you passed out, he fired a round from your gun and called the
sheriff.”

Matt grunted softly. “So this all happened because J.J.
didn’t want people to know he got his start running guns to the Apache?”

“Yeah. People don’t look kindly on those who sell guns to
the enemy. I guess J.J. was afraid the townspeople would string him up, or run
him out of Salt Creek.”

“Why’d he kill Pitman?”

“I don’t know. Me and Gonzalez, we got scared. He headed
home to El Paso, I think. I been running ever since.”

“Gonzalez is dead.”

Tanner’s face went chalk white. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Matt drummed his fingertips on the bar top. He
could understand why Tucker hadn’t wanted anyone digging around in his past. A
lot of the local citizens had lost friends and loved ones during the Indian
wars. People had long memories where things like that were concerned. But, more
than that, Matt suspected that J.J. had been afraid Susanne might discover he’d
hired Pitman to kill Billy. That was why he had killed Toby. He didn’t want to
see his sister’s adoration turn to hatred, couldn’t take a chance on Pitman
going to court and spilling everything he knew. Only one question remained.

“Who killed Pitman?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know, or won’t say?”

“I don’t know. I swear it.”

Matt slid his gun back in the holster, his eyes thoughtful.
“Thanks.” He tossed a silver dollar onto the bar. “Buy yourself a drink.”

“Obliged,” Tanner said. He turned to order a drink from the
barkeep. When he turned around again, Drago was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

It was Susanne’s wedding day, and J.J. had spared no
expense. Everyone in town had been invited. Following the ceremony, there would
be a lavish reception in the town hall. J.J. had hired a six-piece orchestra
all the way from St. Louis. There would be food and champagne, and a wedding
cake almost three feet tall. Susanne’s dress was exquisite. Made of heavy white
satin, it had a high neck and a long, swirling skirt that swished when she
walked. The sleeves were full near her shoulders, gradually tapering to her
wrists. The bodice was adorned with hundreds of tiny seed pearls set in an
intricate design. It was, Lacey thought, a gown fit for a queen, and Susanne
looked like royalty when she put it on.

Lacey glanced in the mirror. Her own dress was of a deep
rose pink silk. It had a square neck and a high empire waist that helped
conceal her thick waist.

She placed a hand over her swollen belly, smiled as she felt
her child’s lusty kick. The baby was due in a few short weeks, and she could
hardly wait to cradle the child in her arms. It would be a boy, she was
certain, a tiny version of Matt that she could hold and love.

Matt. Her love for him had never wavered or diminished, nor
had a day gone by that she didn’t think of him. Where was he now? Had he left
Salt Creek for good? The idea of never seeing him again still hurt, even after
all these months.

She heard the clock downstairs chime the hour. Soon it would
be time to go to the church. She could hear Susanne moving about in the next
room. It had been painful, helping Susanne get dressed, seeing the happiness
that radiated in her eyes. J.J.’s sister was so young, so beautiful, and so
happy. Her whole being fairly glowed with the knowledge that she was loved.

“I thought I loved Matt,” Susanne had confided to Lacey
earlier that day, “but I know now it was just infatuation. Robert is everything
I ever dreamed of.”

Lacey wanted to be happy for her future sister-in-law, but
it was hard to smile when her heart was breaking, hard to know that Susanne was
facing a life of happiness with a man she loved while her own life was filled
with such misery. And dread. Her child was due in less than four weeks. And
already J.J. had started to remind her that he intended to consummate their
bargain as soon as possible after the baby was born. He had come close several
times, and Lacey had cringed when he touched her. His kisses filled her with
revulsion, the touch of his hands on her breasts sickened her. And yet she had
promised to be his…his whore if he would get Matt out of jail. J.J. had kept
his end of the bargain. He reminded her of that at least once a day. Soon she
would have to fulfill her part of the bargain. But she would not think of that
now.

With a sigh, she peered at her reflection in the mirror. She
looked fat and ugly and unhappy, she thought critically. Perhaps it was just as
well that Matt could not see her now.

She whirled around as she sensed someone behind her, gasped
when she saw Matt standing near the open window. Mouth open, eyes wide, she
stared at him, wondering if he were real, or merely the ghost of her heart’s
desire.

“Matt.” He looked well and prosperous. His boots were new,
his black trousers and dark blue shirt were of good quality. A gray silk
kerchief was loosely knotted at his throat. He wore a black Stetson pushed back
on his head. A hand-tooled gunbelt was snugged around his lean waist, the
holster holding a pearl-handled Colt .44.

His eyes, as cold and blue as a winter sky, moved over her
in a long, sweeping glance. Her hair was piled on her head in a mass of elegant
curls, her face pale despite a touch of rouge on her cheeks and the paint on
her lips. But it was the expression in her eyes that caught at his heart. They
were dull and lifeless, as if all the joy she had ever known had been crushed
from her spirit. He almost felt sorry for her, but she had made her bed, so to
speak, and if she now regretted her choice, it had nothing to do with him.

“Matt.” She whispered his name again, her eyes riveted on
his face, his beloved face.

He gestured at her dress. “What’s the occasion?”

“Susanne’s getting married.”

“Anybody I know?”

Lacey shook her head. “His name’s Robert Morrison. He’s the
editor of the
Salt Creek Gazette.
” Her voice grew wistful. “They’re very
much in love.”

“I hope she’ll be happy,” Matt remarked quietly. “She deserves
it.”

“And what do I deserve?” She had not meant to speak the
words aloud, but they spilled out of her mouth of their own volition, sharp and
edged with bitterness.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Matt asked sardonically. “Hasn’t
J.J. given you everything you wanted?”

Lacey bit down on her lower lip, stifling the urge to tell
Matt that he was all she had ever wanted. If only she could pour out her heart,
tell him why she had moved in with J.J., tell him that the child she carried
was his. But J.J.’s threat to kill Matt and her child kept her mute. She knew
J.J. better now, knew he would not hesitate to kill Matt at the slightest
provocation.

“Answer me,” Matt said curtly. “Hasn’t J.J. made you happy?”

“Of course he has,” she lied. She lifted her hand in a gesture
that encompassed the room and its furnishings. “I have everything I could
possibly want.”

Matt cocked his head to one side. She was lying. He could
see it in the haunted sadness of her eyes, hear the pain in her voice. He
passed a hand over his jaw, his expression thoughtful. It had been a mistake to
come here, a mistake to see her again. He had thought himself well rid of any
feelings for her.

During the past winter he had come to terms with the past
and set a course for the future. He had learned why J.J. had killed Billy
Henderson, and the knowledge was of no importance except that it meant he was a
free man again. There was no point in airing J.J.’s dirty linen, nothing to be
gained by ruining Susanne’s image of her brother. It was all in the past and
best forgotten. As for the future, he was going home, back to Virginia to see
if he couldn’t make a new life for himself. But something, some shadowy emotion
he could neither define nor ignore had driven him to Salt Creek. He had to see
Lacey one last time, no matter how much it hurt.

He had not expected it to hurt quite so bad.

Hands clenched at his sides, he took a step toward her. “Are
you happy, Lacey?” His voice was soft, raw with pain. “Is this what you
wanted?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed. “How many times do I have to say it?”

He took another step toward her, his heart aching for the
misery he saw reflected in her eyes. “Lacey.”

“Go away.” She took a step backward, knowing she would lose
all self-control if he so much as touched her.

He watched her, confused by the changing play of emotions on
her face. What was she afraid of? She was reaching out for him, not with her
arms, but with her soul. He could feel the unhappiness in her, see it on her
face.

Without warning, he closed the distance between them and
took her in his arms, his mouth dropping gently over hers, his arms sliding
around her waist. He had forgotten how perfectly her body fit against his. He
lifted a hand to her hair, his fingers removing the pins so that the heavy
reddish-brown mass tumbled down her back in a riot of waves. He inhaled the
fragrance of her hair and skin, let his lips wander over her nose and eyes
before returning to her mouth.

Lacey swayed against him, the blood singing in her veins as
she returned Matt’s kiss with all the love and longing in her heart. Her body
gloried in the hard maleness of his, her nostrils filled with the scent of
horse and leather and man. Her man. She belonged to Matt, body and soul, in a
way she could never, would never, belong to J.J. or anyone else.

Matt drew back a little, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t
love J.J.,” he said slowly. “You never did. Why, then? Why’d you move in with
the bastard?”

Fear and reality returned as soon as his lips left hers. “I
do love him,” Lacey said, not meeting Matt’s gaze. “I’m just happy to see you,
that’s all.”

“Happy, hell. You’re hungry for me.”

She did not deny it.

“Lacey, come away with me. Now.”

It was tempting, so tempting.

“You want to, I know you do.” His lips nibbled at her
earlobe, slid down her neck, trailed fire as they returned to her mouth,
suddenly hot and hungry and demanding. His tongue probed the delicate recesses
of her mouth, making her body tingle with desire, making her feel warm and
alive for the first time in months. She pressed her hips against his maleness,
heard him groan low in his throat as his hands slid down to her buttocks and
drew her closer still.

“I love you, Matt.” She murmured the words against his neck,
knowing she had to say them or die. “I never stopped.”

“Then why, Lacey? For God’s sake, tell me the truth.”

“By all means, my dear. Tell him the truth.”

Lacey gasped at the sound of Tucker’s voice. She twisted out
of Matt’s arms, her face as white as J.J.’s linen shirt, fear congealing in her
heart as she saw the gun in J.J.’s hand.

Matt did not move. Through narrowed eyes, he glanced from
Lacey to J.J., his gaze lingering on the Colt in Tucker’s hand. It was cocked
and ready to fire.

“Go ahead, my dear,” J.J. said with a sneer. “I guess the
man deserves to hear the truth before he dies.”

“J.J., please, I’ll do anything you say. Just let him go.”

“Tell him,” Tucker demanded.

“Matt, I…” Lacey licked her lips, hoping he would believe
her. “I moved in with J.J. to keep you out of prison. He said if I became his
mistress, he’d tell the sheriff who killed Billy. It’s as simple as that. I
never loved him. Never!”

“Go on,” J.J. urged. “Tell him the rest.”

“The baby…it isn’t J.J.’s. It’s yours.” Lacey gazed intently
at Matt, trying to guess what he was feeling, what he was thinking, but his
face was impassive, his dark eyes empty of expression. “I did it for you!” she
cried. He had to believe her, she thought desperately. He couldn’t die thinking
she had been unfaithful. Oh, God, he couldn’t die!

Slowly Matt turned to face Lacey. For a moment he was angry
with her, more angry than he’d ever been in his life. All these months he had
hated her for being unfaithful. He had cursed the day they met, dying a little
every time he thought of her carrying another man’s child.

But it was his child. His anger dissolved as he gazed into
Lacey’s clear brown eyes, and he felt a rush of love more powerful than
anything he had ever known. She had sold herself to a man she didn’t love to
keep him out of prison.

“Lacey.” There was a wealth of emotion in his voice as he
murmured her name. His eyes moved to her swollen breasts, to the bulge of her
stomach barely visible beneath the concealing folds of her gown. A child slept
there. His child. A child he would never see.

Tears welled in Lacey’s eyes as she felt the force of Matt’s
love reach out to her. “I never slept with J.J.” She turned cold brown eyes
toward Tucker. “And I never will.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear,” Tucker said, his smile
smug and sure. “I intend to seal our bargain tonight.” J.J. raised the gun a
little higher. “Where do you want it, Drago? In the front, or in the back?”

“What the hell difference does it make?”

“None, I guess,” Tucker mused with a wry grin.

“Just one thing. Why’d you kill Pitman? You owe me that
much.”

Tucker shrugged. “He knew too much. I couldn’t trust him to
keep his mouth shut once he was locked up. You must have guessed that.”

“And that’s why you killed Gonzalez?”

J.J. nodded.

“What about Tanner?”

“I’ll find him,” J.J. said confidently.

“It never stops, does it? You killed Pitman to cover the
fact that you killed Billy Henderson. And then you had to kill Gonzalez.”

“And Tanner’s living on borrowed time,” Tucker said. “Just
like you.”

There was a choked sound from the doorway. J.J. didn’t turn
around, but Matt glanced past Tucker to see Susanne standing in the doorway,
her face as white as her wedding gown.

“What does he mean, J.J.?” she asked, her voice brittle.
“What does he mean about you killing Billy?”

“Nothing, Susanne. Get out of here.”

“What does he mean, J.J.?” she repeated, her voice rising.
“Tell me it isn’t true.”

“He’s lying,” Tucker said flatly.

“Matt?” Susanne’s eyes were wide, bright with unshed tears.
“Lacey?”

“It’s true,” Matt said. “J.J. had Billy killed because Billy
was prying into things that didn’t concern him.”

“Damn you, Drago,” J.J. hissed. His finger tightened around
the trigger, taking up the slack.

Lacey screamed, “No!” and lunged toward Tucker, her hand
reaching for the gun, just as Susanne hurled herself at her brother.

“You killed him!” Susanne shrieked. “You killed my Billy.
I’ll never forgive you!” She pummeled Tucker’s back with her fists.

There was a loud explosion as the gun in J.J.’s hand fired.
Lacey screamed as the bullet meant for Matt struck her in the chest. The sound
of the gunshot was still in the air when Matt drew and fired. His bullet struck
J.J. square in the heart.

Time moved in slow motion after that. Tucker stood upright
for a moment, a stunned expression on his face as his gun fell from his hand.

Susanne began to cry as her brother slowly sank to his knees
and then pitched forward and lay still.

But Matt had eyes only for Lacey. She lay in a crumpled heap
on the floor, her face drained of color, a crimson tide staining the bodice of
her dress.

“Get a doctor,” Matt cried hoarsely. He tore the kerchief
from his neck and pressed it over the dreadful wound in Lacey’s chest, appalled
at how quickly the gray silk turned red with blood.