Rexanne Becnel (23 page)

A bitter smile lifted her lips. Perhaps she should take her lesson from the barn, for she’d been burned herself last night. Even now she was still uncertain whether she should continue on with what she had, or let it all go and begin again. She could just leave. After all, she was a good teacher. She could always find another school to teach in. Perhaps she was being a fool, taking on responsibility for everyone else. Who was she to think she could manage a school by herself? And now she knew there was more than simply the school involved.

Lacie pressed her palms to her cheeks as she struggled against her doubts. She would be stealing much more than just the school from Dillon. Much more.

But he didn’t deserve Frederick’s inheritance either. At least she would use Frederick’s wealth to keep his school going. Frederick would have approved. She was sure of it.

Still, no matter how she rationalized it, Lacie could not escape her terrible feelings of doubt. More than anything she dreaded facing Dillon again. But there was no way she could avoid it.

For a long while she stood on the gallery, watching the play of sunlight on the grounds as the clouds moved across the sky, but not really seeing anything. It wasn’t until a carriage turned up the long drive that she roused. Then when she recognized the school’s brett, she hurried down to greet it.

Dillon was already outside when she arrived, but she determinedly avoided his dark searching stare. It was cowardice, but she had no alternative. When Leland pulled up and Ada anxiously peered out at her, she knew an enormous relief.

“Oh, Lacie! Are you all right?” Ada cried after Dillon had handed her down.

“I’m quite well,” Lacie murmured, hugging her friend a little too tightly. “Better than ever,” she vowed as she managed a smile.

“I was so worried about you. But Leland said the horses couldn’t take that muddy road again without a rest. We left as soon as we could this morning.”

“How is your patient?” Lacie asked, watching cautiously as Dillon climbed into the brett.

“Oh, Neal will be fine, thank God. He insisted on returning with us despite what Dr. Cromwell said.” Ada’s face softened as she watched Neal alight with Dillon’s help while Mrs. Gunter bustled about scolding her obstinate patient in German. Neal had one arm in a sling and a stark white bandage around his head. But despite his pallor and obvious weakness, he had a smile on his face.

“It’s not my leg. I can walk, you know.”

“
Ach!
Such a hard head! You think you know everything. Better than the doctor. Better than me!”

Unable to help herself, Ada quickly crossed to Neal’s side. When Dillon stepped back she filled the void at once, holding Neal about the waist as he leaned on her, helping him up the steps. Mrs. Gunter flapped around them like a mother hen, leaving Lacie and Dillon to bring up the rear. On the surface, it was a very pleasant homecoming scene. Yet Lacie was acutely aware of Dillon’s presence. Although she did not look at him, she sensed his nearness.

It was time, she told herself. Time to end this. Time to call his bluff. If she didn’t do it now, she might never get up the nerve again.

On the gallery she cleared her throat. “I’d like to speak to you, Dillon.” She did not look at him. “I’d like Neal to stay as well,” she added, meeting Ada’s curious glance.

Perhaps it was her odd tone, or maybe everyone could sense—as she’d feared—what had happened. Whatever it was, little surprise was expressed at her words. Ada gave her an anxious look and helped Neal to one of the painted white rockers, then stood a little nervously beside him. Dillon perched nonchalantly at the gallery rail, one leg hitched up, his arms folded across his chest expectantly. Mrs. Gunter looked from him to Lacie—hopefully at first, but then her expression fell. She turned and went into the house, muttering in distress about coffee and tea, biscuits and cookies.

In her absence, the quiet on the porch grew oppressive. Lacie stood at the top of the steps, her hands knotted and hidden in the folds of her skirt.

“I know this is perhaps a difficult time for this discussion,” she began addressing Neal. “What with your injuries and all. However, what I have to say cannot wait any longer.”

“It’s all right. I’m happy to listen,” he answered, glancing questioningly at Dillon.

“Are you sure you don’t want to consider what you’re doing, Lacie?”

At Dillon’s quietly spoken words Lacie whirled to face him.

“I’m quite sure of what I’m doing,” she snapped. “I may have played the fool up to now, but not anymore. I’ve figured you out.”

Dillon did not respond, but his eyes became darker and his very calm seemed almost threatening. Yet she continued on with reckless abandon. “I know it’s not just the school. Frederick was far wealthier than he let on, wasn’t he? When I married him I stopped you from inheriting far more than just Sparrow Hill.”

Neal could not prevent a quick look at Dillon. “So you finally told her.” When he received no answer he looked back at Lacie.

“Oh, yes, he told me—in his own fashion.” Lacie fought back the ache in her heart and struggled to look the victor. “Of course, I don’t know the entire extent of Frederick’s holdings. No doubt you do, however. Since I believe there are laws against depriving a widow of her rights, surely I can expect the cooperation of a respectable lawyer like yourself, Mr. Camden.”

At last Dillon reacted. “Widows, yes.” He stood up slowly. “But you are hardly Frederick’s widow.”

Lacie faced his menacing stare with a heart that thundered and knees that shook. This was her moment of truth. She knew she risked her reputation and even Frederick’s, but her hurt and anger were too strong to let her back down.

“I
am
his widow,” she said in a soft, shaky voice. “I am, and you cannot prove otherwise.”

He could
not
prove otherwise, she told herself as the silence stretched taut as a bowstring. He could not. Yet staring at his rigid expression, she was not so sure he wouldn’t vent all his suspicions just for spite. She wasn’t conscious of holding her breath, yet when his eyes finally turned from her to Neal she took an apprehensive breath. Still, there was an odd look on his face and his voice was too pleasant when he finally responded.

“We are not finished, Lacie. You may continue with your little farce, but in the end—” He gave her a sardonic smile. Then he made an abbreviated bow and unexpectedly quit the porch.

Lacie was stunned by her sudden and apparent victory, despite his parting threat. She could hardly believe her eyes as she watched him walk away. His back was no less straight; his head was no less erect and proud. His stride was even and relaxed, just as it had been that first day when he’d strolled into her life. He was as confident as ever—and as arrogant.

It was that arrogance that took the pleasure out of her triumph, she told herself as she watched him disappear. It was his arrogant threat of repercussions to come. Certainly she felt not the slightest regret to see him go. If she were lucky, she would never have to see him again.

If she were lucky, she thought morosely.

Neal propped himself against a thick-trunked pecan tree as he watched Dillon saddle his horse.

“What did you do to her?”

Dillon gave him a sharp, angry glance. “Nothing any man wouldn’t do, given a chance. And when she gave me the chance, I took it.” He turned back to the animal and tightened the girth strap.

“Dammit, Dillon! I thought you had more finesse than that. I’ve never known any woman to leave your bed angry.”

“She’s not like any other woman.”

“Oh?”

At that interested reply Dillon let out a short oath. “She was a virgin,” he muttered.

“Aha!” Neal gave his friend a searching look. “That means she was never a wife. May I say that was a very clever—if devious—way to prove your point. However, there’s no way to use that proof to your advantage. You’ve destroyed the evidence.”

“Hell’s bells! You too?” Dillon whirled on his friend furiously. “I did not take her to bed to prove she wasn’t married to Frederick! I already
knew
that. I took her to bed—” He stopped abruptly then ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “What in hell difference does it matter why I did it?”

“I think it would make a big difference to her.”

“You don’t know her. She doesn’t trust me any farther than she can throw me. Especially now. Besides, as she sees it, she holds all the cards. As long as I can’t prove she’s a fake and she has the benefit of Frederick’s estate, she’s got no use for me.”

“So you’re leaving? Giving up, just like that?”

Dillon pulled the stirrup down, then adjusted his saddlebags. “You’re the one who’s been sending me urgent messages. I thought you wanted me to get back to Denver and back to business.”

Neal pursed his lips in disapproval and rubbed his bandaged brow. “It appears you’ve got unfinished business here as well now.” He studied Dillon’s grim face. “What are you planning?”

Dillon glanced over at him. “I’m leaving you here to recuperate. Look over the school’s situation if you want, but keep your eyes open and don’t worry about hurrying back to Denver. I’ll take care of things there.”

“You’re not giving up.” It was a confident statement, not a question.

“Not on your life.” Dillon took his hat from its perch on a branch and pulled it low over his eyes. Then he mounted his eager stallion. “There are a few leads I need to follow up on. In the meantime, I think I’ll just let sweet Lacie stew awhile. But mark my words, she hasn’t heard the last of me.”

Lacie watched in agitation as Dillon cantered slowly from the orchard. The sun beat down blindingly, sending shimmers across the grass as the wet ground steamed in the June heat. As he rode across the lawn he looked as intimidating as ever. Like some black-garbed devil determined to torture her unceasingly.

Vowing to appear unmoved, Lacie concentrated on the chickens gathering around her. “C’mon, chick. Here you go, chick, chick, chick.” She was acutely aware of Dillon when he stopped his horse at the gate to the chicken yard. Yet still she would not look up. She had wanted to hide inside all day. Only pride had forced her to assume her daily tasks. Yet not even pride could make her look up at him.

“I came to say good-bye, Lacie.”

She threw the corn around her with a vengeance, trying desperately to ignore the ache in her heart caused by his quietly spoken words. “Good-bye,” she muttered.

Just leave, she pleaded silently. Leave before she embarrassed herself by bursting into tears. She heard him shift in his saddle, heard the leather creak and his horse paw twice at the muddy ground. But she did not dare look up at him, for that would be her complete undoing.

“Neal is going to stay until he’s well enough to travel. I trust you’ll extend him every hospitality. I’ve left some money to cover his expenses.”

At that insolent comment Lacie jerked around to glare at him. But his serious expression stopped her angry retort. Flustered, she immediately looked away.

“You’ve forgotten your crippled chicken. She’s still waiting to be fed.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she muttered, even as her throat choked up with confusing emotions.

“Well.” The leather saddle creaked once more. “I’d like you to let me know if there’s a child.”

Then, when she only stood there, staring unseeingly at the solitary hen across the soggy chicken yard, he turned his mount and without further comment rode away.

Lacie stood in the chicken yard a long time after the sound of his horse’s hoofbeats had faded. The chickens dispersed one by one when it seemed their benefactress had no further corn for them. But she didn’t move. She was too overwhelmed with emotion and too drained.

If there’s a child.
His parting words repeated over and over in her mind.
If there is a child.
It was the last thing she’d expected, a possibility she’d not considered at all. Yet he had.

Why not? He’d probably had lots of experience—perhaps a string of little bastards just like himself.

A tear fell, but she wiped it away. Then another came, and another. Still she stood there, the tears streaming down her face as she mourned her loss.

He was gone. It was what she wanted, she told herself. But that didn’t change a thing. He was gone, and although she’d won all that she’d wanted, and more, it still felt as if she’d lost everything.

Everything.

L
ACIE WAS LISTENING. AT
least she was trying to. But too much of what Neal was discussing brought unwelcome thoughts of Dillon to mind. Had he already arrived back in Denver? she wondered. He had been gone a week now, although it seemed more like a year. Then again, it seemed to have been only this morning that he had asked her to let him know if there was a child.

Her eyes were unfocused and staring, a clouded gray as she sat there. But her emotions were twisting painfully as once more she relived that last day with Dillon. He had planned it all. He’d plotted to seduce her in order to get the school—and everything else. But she had called his bluff.

Still, she simply could not fathom why he had backed down. If nothing else, he could have ruined her reputation—and therefore the school’s—with just his accusations. Why hadn’t he pressed on? She couldn’t believe it was out of kindness, for she was certain he was incapable of such emotion. No, he must be planning something else. He’d even warned that she had not heard the last of him….

“Do you see how the two are connected?” Neal interrupted her dark musings.

“What? Oh.” Lacie tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. “We were speaking of Lockwood Lumber and—and the school?”

Neal gave her an exasperated look. “This is obviously beyond you.”

“It is not!” Lacie declared heatedly. “Just because my mind was wandering doesn’t mean I can’t understand what you’re talking about. Would you mind repeating what you said?”

He sighed and pushed a sheet of paper with three columns in front of her.

“This is a list of Frederick’s investments. Here are Dillon’s. This longer column in the middle is their joint holdings.”

Lacie leaned forward and examined the paper. It appeared that Frederick had owned the school, investments in two holding companies, and stock in a mattress factory. Dillon owned Lockwood Mines, Lockwood Lumber, and a construction company. But it was the center list that caught her interest most. There were a wide variety of companies listed: Estes Carriage Works, L and K Transport, L and K Hardware, the Denver Palace Hotel, the Estes Livery, as well as several others. It seemed that Dillon and Frederick had been involved in almost every sort of business that a growing town might need.