Lacy (40 page)

"Stop dwelling on it, dear," Lacy
chided gently. "Come. Let's do some more decorations. You know, Marion gets better every day. I can't help but think the doctor may be wrong about her
condition."

"And miracles happen," Katy said in
agreement. She smiled. "I love the way she's rallying. I pray that she'll
recover completely."

"That could happen," Lacy said. She
smiled, too—because she knew all about miracles. That Cole loved her was her
biggest one.

She went looking for him later that night and
found him sitting in the study with ledgers spread out in front of him, his
head in his hands.

"Are you all right?" she asked
hesitantly.

He lifted his head. His eyes kindled with
warmth—as they always did when he looked at her now. He smiled and leaned back,
holding out his arm.

She went to him and allowed herself to be drawn
down onto his lap. "Money troubles again?" she asked.

"Business as usual, I'm afraid," he
replied. He drew her close and held her quietly for a long moment before he
spoke. "I may have to default on the next mortgage payment," he said
finally. "I don't think I can meet it."

"Oh, Cole," she said worriedly.

"Grain prices have gone right through the
roof. I had to buy it this time for the first time in memory, because I
overstocked when cattle prices were low. Now I've got to sell off cattle or
feed them through the winter. Either way, I'm going in the hole."

"I'm not poor, you know." He started
to speak very angrily, and she put her hand over his hard mouth to still the
words. "No," she whispered. She bent and replaced her hand with her
lips. A few seconds of that, and he forgot about being angry. In fact, he
forgot everything in the heat of the sudden passion, his arms bruising and
possessive, like the mouth that became instantly demanding on hers.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered
softly, her eyes teasing and bright.

He glanced at the books and then back at her
mouth. With a delighted laugh, he helped her up and followed her out of the
room.

TWO
DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS,
Cole
was forced to go to see Mr. Harkness at the bank. He explained his
difficulties. The banker was sympathetic, but inflexible.

"You know I'd like to loan you the money,
Cole," he said honestly. "But it just isn't good business to help you
overextend even more."

"Damn it, man. I could lose the
ranch!"

"I know that, too." Harkness leaned
forward. "Can't you sell off some cattle, keep going that way?"

Cole grimaced. "Yes, I can. But I'll take a
hell of a loss.You know what prices are. I overstocked earlier in the year
because all the experts said that prices would go up. They didn't. Now I've got
too many head and not enough feed."

"Everyone's having problems," the
banker agreed. "It's the times we live in, Cole. War boosts the economy,
but only temporarily. Then it plunges again. It's all going downhill now, like
a runaway train. All this borrowing without adequate capital to back it up— I tell
you, we're in for worse times than these. You can't live on credit."

"I'm finding that out," Cole said
uncomfortably. He stood up. It had been a long time since he'd felt quite so
desperate.

Harkness stood, too, looking very young and
helpless. "I'm sorry. That sounds trite, I know. But I really am. My
father lost his home in Houston this year because the bank foreclosed
there," he added slowly. "I know how it feels, if it helps."

Cole lost a little of his bitterness. He managed
a smile. "Thank you. It does, a bit."

They shook hands. "If you could manage
anything for collateral. .." the banker add.

"All that's left is the car," Cole
said. "I can't mortgage that. We need it too badly."

The other man shifted uncomfortably and lifted
his hands. "Times are hard."

"Getting harder daily." Cole nodded.

He left the bank and stood out on the street,
his hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes wandering up and down the dirt road
where a few cars were moving through town. Progress, he thought. In the old
days, his father would have held the banker at gunpoint until he got his money.
Civilization made it tough. Words, not bullets, dominated the modern world.

He could hold up a train, he supposed. He
laughed at the thought. He could see Lacy's expression if she had to bail him
out of jail. No, he'd have to come up with something...

His eyes narrowed as a thought occurred. He had
a banker, and he'd only just now realized it. He could borrow, with interest,
from someone he knew quite well by now. Yes, he could!

Chapter Eighteen

Faye
settled down to her new
job with a sense of freedom that she'd never had in her young life. It was like
being in another world. She didn't have an alcoholic father to worry over and
look after. She didn't have day-to-day poverty and the endless drudgery of
housework. Even the nausea of pregnancy didn't bother her. She worked long
hours in the dress shop with Lacy's cousins, and she never complained about
that or the relatively low salary she got. Her wage included bed and board,
which was nothing to sneeze at. She had Sunday off, and she went to church with
the Morrows, who treated her much more like a loved relative than like a
boarder.

Now and again she thought about Ben with real
regret. If she'd been older and less impressionable, perhaps the experience might
have been avoided. As it was, she still cared deeply for him, but not enough to
try and force him into a relationship he didn't really want. She'd have her
baby all by herself and take care of it. At least Lacy and Cole were proud of
the new addition to the Whitehall family, despite the fact that it would be
illegitimate.

There were people who would ostracize her when
they knew about her circumstances. That was to be expected. But there were also
people who would be more open-minded. In the city, attitudes weren't quite as
rigid as they were in small communities. Lacy herself had allowed dancing and
jazz in her home, while some members of society considered both the devil's
province.

Since the one letter Ben had written to Cole,
apologizing for the can of worms he'd opened, there had been no communication
at all. Faye wasn't surprised. She imagined Ben was having the time of his life
in Paris, probably romancing every girl in sight and mingling with the
avant-garde of the literary world. He would be, Faye decided, the perfect
addition to the expatriated Americans overseas.

Meanwhile she was getting an education. Ruby
Morrow had begun to teach her to read and write. An apt pupil, Faye absorbed
knowledge like a sponge, interested in everything that was offered. In no time,
she was assured, she'd be as literate as anyone else in the city. Fay wasn't
sure of that, but it flattered her to think so.

Lacy wrote to her and invited her home for
Christmas. Faye decided not to go, though, since her father had elected to
visit his only brother in Houston for the holidays.

"Faye isn't coming," Lacy told Cole,
sitting down beside him on the porch steps while he repaired a bridle.

"Why?" he asked absently.

She pulled her coat closer, nuzzling her face
down into the warm fur collar. "She says Ira is spending the holidays with
his brother, and my cousin has invited her to Christmas dinner." She
looked up, worried. "Do you think she's all right?"

He smiled. "Lacy, she's enjoying her
independence. Let her alone. I imagine it's all exciting to her."

"I guess you're right." She folded the
letter neatly and put it back in the envelope. Her eyes went to the bare
horizon, which was clouding up. "Will it rain?"

"Probably." He glanced at her.
"I'll cut you a Christmas tree this afternoon."

She smiled and laid her head against his thick
coat. "You're a nice man. I think that's why I married you."

"You married me because young Ben locked us
in a line cabin together," he said wickedly, bending to nibble softly at
her mouth. "Did we thank him?"

"You were much too busy calling him foul
names, as I recall," she whispered, kissing him gently on the lips.

"I should have used that night to better
advantage." He chuckled.

"You wicked man," she said accusingly.
"We weren't married!"

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her
eyes. "We are now," he said. "Our first real Christmas together,
Lacy," he added softly. "I hope you like what I got you."

"Oh, Cole. You didn't get anything
expensive?" she asked. "Not when you're in such financial
trouble!"

"It's something you'll like. Nothing
extravagant, I promise," he said. He rubbed his nose against hers.
"And I'll work out my finances. I've got something in mind."

"Have you?" she asked, excited.
"What?"

"My secret, for now,"he said, because
he wasn't sure that she— or anyone else at Spanish Flats—would approve of what
he planned to do. He was meeting a gentleman in town at the end of next week to
discuss those plans. If they worked out, his financial woes were over. But he
didn't dare tell Lacy what he was up to. "You're very secretive," she
accused.

He kissed her gently and got to his feet.
"That's nothing new," he replied, grinning. "Don't stay out here
and get cold." I won't.

She watched him stride off toward the barn with
warm, possessive eyes. Turk noticed as he came riding up, dismounting with lazy
grace at the front steps.

"Still swooning over him, I see,"he
drawled, doffing his stained black Stetson as he came up the steps. He looked
older these days, and leaner than ever. His batwing chaps flapped as he moved,
his spurs jingled, but the only cheer was in those sounds. His pale eyes were
haunted.

"I think it's mutual," she said,
amused. "What are you doing home in the middle of the day? I thought you
were helping mend fences."

"I was. I remembered that I'd promised Katy
a movie today. It's Saturday." "Yes, I know."

Turk waited until she got up from her seat on
the steps before he spoke. He hesitated, his pale eyes narrow and curious.
"That gambler in Chicago... Does she talk about him?"

She studied him intently. "It's natural
that she would,Turk," she said quietly. "He was the only friend she
had."

"I suppose so."

"She'll forget one day," she said
helplessly. "It's just going to take time."

"She still has nightmares," he replied
quietly.

"Considering how Danny died, it's not
surprising. You used to have them, Cole said. Didn't yours go away
eventually?" she asked daringly.

He drew in a heavy breath. "Eventually. It
took a long time."

"Katy's will go away, too. A movie will do
her good."

"I hope so." He went inside, his spurs
jingling. He smiled at Marion and waited while Katy finished tying the ribbon
in her long hair. She was wearing a sailor outfit with blue stripes and a pert
little cap that matched.

"I need to get cleaned up," Turk told
her, his eyes slow and bold on her face. "I won't be long."

"All right."

He left, and Katy sat down with Marion. "Are you sure you don't mind if I go, Mama?" Katy asked.

Marion
smiled and patted her
hand. "Dear, it delights me to see you taking an interest in life. Go with
Turk. The entertainment will be good for you. Tell Turk I said take the
runabout."

"Thank you, Mama."

The old eyes were loving. "I'm so glad that
you're all right, my dear. Those first days at home were difficult ones for all
of us. We worried about you so."

"I'm fine. I'm getting better all the
time."

"I know. My prayers are being
answered."

Katy wished she could say that her own were, but
she was still much more upset and confused than the other members of her family
realized. She kept it to herself, to spare them. The night with Wardell ate at
her. Adultery, murder, drunkenness—she could barely believe she'd done so many
wrong things. Of it all, the adultery made her saddest—not because she'd
cheated on Danny, but because Wardell loved her. She thought of him often and
worried about him. He was, she thought, so terribly alone. He'd never loved
anyone until he'd loved her, and she hadn't been able to give him anything. Her
body, sympathy, affection were all he'd had. She knew how it felt to possess an
empty shell, because her one experience with Turk had been empty like that.
He'd made love to her, but he hadn't cared for her, not really. It had been a
physical response he'd given her, just as she'd given a physical response to
Wardell. Without love, it was bitter and sad. Poor Blake. He'd only wanted her
love, and she couldn't give it.