The Redemption of Jake Scully (9 page)

Twilight was a special time in Weaver. In that brief period before the darkness of night, Weaver came alive with lamplight, imparting a fairy tale quality to the primitive scene. The greatest transformation performed was on the Gold Nugget Saloon. The building glowed, boasting bright lights and gaiety that came to full blossom only after the sun had set. She knew the sometimes cruel light of dawn would dispel that metamorphosis, but she never failed to enjoy the deceiving sight.

Lacey’s smile dimmed as Scully’s step slowed. His gaze had halted on a couple locked in a passionate embrace in a dark alleyway beside the Gold Nugget. Scully drew Lacey determinedly forward.

Out of view of the embarrassing scene, Scully turned to her and said, “I’m sorry to have exposed you to this kind of thing, Lacey. As far as Lucy and the rest of the women who work in the Gold Nugget are concerned, the Gold Nugget is a dancehall. That’s all I expect of them when they entertain my customers. I can’t control what the girls do on their own time, but I don’t stand for that type of behavior while they’re working. I’ll tell Lucy she’s no longer employed at the Gold Nugget tomorrow.”

Lacey turned to glance back at Lucy as the smiling dancehall girl freed herself from the cowboy’s embrace and they walked arm and arm back into the saloon. She said instinctively, “Don’t do that, Scully.”

He turned darkly toward her.

“I know Lucy’s not behaving properly, and I really don’t know her, but I do know if she leaves the Gold Nugget, she’ll probably end up someplace where more might be expected of her than it is here. Warn her, first. At least here she has a chance to discover the error of her ways.”

“I don’t have time for warnings. She knew the rules when she took the job.”

“If you warn her and tell her what’ll happen if there’s a next time, she’ll understand you meant what you said.”

“I don’t operate that way at the Gold Nugget.”

“Please.”

Still frowning, Scully said, “Why do you care what happens to Lucy?”

Lacey replied, “Why should I not?”

Silent a moment longer, Scully replied, “I guess that’s as good an answer as any. All right. I’ll give Lucy fair warning tonight. The rest is up to her.”

“Thank you, Scully.” Greatly relieved, Lacey tucked her arm more tightly under his.

Scully regarded her intently. He said, “You look tired.”

“Thanks. I was feeling pretty good until now.” Lacey gave him a wry smile, then admitted, “But you’re right. I am tired.”

“I’ll walk back with you to the boarding house.”

Aware that Scully’s night had only begun, Lacey withdrew her arm from his and said, “You don’t have to do that. I don’t have far to walk, and you have a business to take care of. I’ll go back by myself.”

“I’m not leaving you alone on the street at this time of night.”

“It’s barely dark.” Lacey glanced around them. “There are any number of women still on the street.”

Scully motioned toward four cowboys riding briskly toward them and said, “I don’t have to look around to know those fellas wouldn’t look twice at any of those other women—but they would at you.”

“Scully…” Lacey could not help but laugh. “I’m a big girl now.”

“That’s the problem.”

Suddenly realizing he was deadly serious, Lacey said, “I surrender.”

“It’s not a case of winning or losing, Lacey. It’s a matter of being safe.”

And of not becoming a burden to a man overly concerned for her welfare.

Yes, she understood far better than Scully realized.

That thought in mind, Lacey responded, “All right, let’s go back now. I have a feeling Mary may be waiting for me. She treats her boarders like her children, you know.”

“Lacey…”

“I really am tired, Scully.”

They had reached the boarding house door when Mary called from inside, “Is that you, Lacey?” In the doorway within seconds, the dear woman said, “I’m glad you brought Lacey home early, Scully. I managed to save her some of my special apple pie, but it won’t last much longer if any of my other boarders see it.”

Lacey walked up the boarding house steps as Mary chattered on. She looked back as Scully tipped his hat and walked back down the street.

Barret stood at his office window, watching the growing activity on the street. Friday night, and the influx of weekend revelers had just begun. Within the hour, all respectable residents would be in the safe refuge of their homes and the streets would be abandoned to pleasure seekers. Hayseeds…hicks…ignoramuses. The town was full of them, and not a single one of them had any idea of the level of enjoyment one could reach in more civilized environs. Yet he had no desire to go home yet. As deficient as his office was in the refinements to which he was accustomed, his home was worse. It was by far the largest house in Weaver’s small residential area on the next street, but it was still a miserly abode when compared to the mansion that had been his family’s San Francisco home.

His life in Weaver was a bore. The only thing that made it bearable was a dream now held in abeyance in the dainty hands of Lacey Stewart. He needed to shake her up somehow…force her to make a move—which would be difficult indeed with Scully dogging her every step.

Barret’s eyes glazed over as he stared out onto the street. He needed to think…and plan.

Lacey looked up from the page she had been reading as a thought struck her in the silence of her room.

Strangely enough, she’d had no desire to sleep after Scully dropped her off at the boarding house door and she was safely secured in her room. Sitting alone in the advent of night, her mind again deluged with uncertainties, she had reached for her grandfather’s Bible, which had given her so much comfort through the years. She was uncertain how long she’d been reading when it came to her in a flash that if Rosie could not read, she could not write—and if she could not write, she could not read. There was no way of separating the two. The lessons needed to be taught concurrently. She had everything she would need in order to teach Rosie to read. It was all contained in the one book she held in her hand. Writing, however, was another matter.

Paper and pencil—Rosie needed that much, at least, so she could practice in private between lessons. Without those simple supplies, Rosie would be at a disadvantage that might even discourage her enough to make her abandon the effort.

Lacey shook her head. She couldn’t let that happen to a young woman with such low self-esteem that she believed no one, including God, truly loved her.

Lacey looked out her window at the darkening shadows of the street below. There was no way she’d be able to purchase the necessary supplies in the morning or after she finished up work in the restaurant, without Scully’s notice. She would have to get them now, before the mercantile closed for the night.

She didn’t have much time.

The brisk business of the saloon constant behind him, Scully nodded to familiar faces in passing as he pushed his way out through the Nugget’s swinging doors onto the boardwalk. He walked a few steps into the shadows of the overhang, then leaned back against the false front of the building, frowning as the boisterous music and heavy smoke from the saloon filtered out onto the street.

What in Sam Hill was wrong with him? Admittedly, his lifestyle had been beginning to pale of late. He had supposed he was getting older. He had thought it might be time to broaden his horizons. He had even considered moving on, but, somehow, none of those solutions had seemed the answer.

Then Lacey returned to Weaver, and his scrutiny of Weaver and the lifestyle he had adopted became sharper…clearer. It was almost as if Lacey’s confidence in his “goodness” made him even more aware of his deficiencies; as if her innocent trust made him aware of the tawdry side of things he had previously accepted; as if her faith in the Lord and her devotion to His teachings made him conscious of the many ways in which he fell short.

Yet he felt none of the resentment he would have considered an ordinary reaction to his new consciousness. And the reason was simple. Lacey had brought him to those conclusions with only honest praise for him.

Rose-colored glasses.

She was too innocent, and too beautiful. She didn’t realize how a man could be intrigued by that combination, or what he could be thinking each time she smiled at him so guilelessly. He wished he could make her realize those things, but he didn’t want to if it would change her. He liked her the way she was, honest—outspoken, earnest…feisty, anxious to fight the good fight. He’d never met a woman like her.

“Well, stranger.”

Scully turned toward the sound of the familiar female voice. The dazzling color of Charlotte’s red hair was distinctive even in the limited light, as was her teasing smile as she continued, “I haven’t seen much of you lately. I reminded you of that once before. I also reminded you that you knew where to find me, but it looks like it’s time for me to stir your memory.” She walked an intimate step closer as she said, “So, here I am. And don’t tell me you’ve been busy. I won’t accept that excuse. I know a man always makes time for things that are important to him.” She halted for effect, then said, “Which brings me to a very unflattering conclusion.”

Scully could not help but smile. Charlotte…out in the open…never mincing words. He could do no less than return the favor in kind.

“You’re right, Charlotte, honey. A man does make time for the things that’re his top priorities.”

Charlotte sobered. She responded bluntly, “You’re making a big mistake, Scully.”

Scully was suddenly as serious as she. “Lacey’s my responsibility, Charlotte. She’s out of her element here. She needs guidance, and I’m the only family she has.”

“Are you sure you’re the one who should be giving her guidance?”

“Yes.”

“Oh…ho!” Charlotte was smiling again. “You didn’t even hesitate!”

“And what does that tell you?”

“That tells me you haven’t changed as much as I thought you had.” Charlotte reached up to stroke Scully’s cheek with her smooth hand as she whispered, “And it also tells me, if I just relax and have some fun while I’m waiting, you’ll walk right back into my arms.”

Charlotte stood up on tiptoe unexpectedly and pressed a fleeting kiss against Scully’s lips. Contrary to the reaction she expected, Scully drew back and said, “You haven’t changed a bit, either, Charlotte—but I think it’s time for us both to get back to business.”

Scully slid his arm casually around Charlotte’s shoulders and turned her back into the saloon. Charlotte hadn’t bothered to be subtle. Even if she had been, he knew all the signals. The truth was, he wasn’t interested anymore. He’d been as truthful as he could be with her. Lacey was his responsibility, and that was all that counted.

Lacey stood still in the shadows of the boardwalk. The street teemed with activity around her, but she was somehow unable to move. She had watched the two figures standing intimately close under the Gold Nugget’s overhang. The brightly dressed, redheaded woman was Charlotte, who had never been overly friendly to her while she resided at the Gold Nugget. The other person was Scully.

Lacey had caught her breath as Charlotte stood up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to Scully’s. She saw the whispered conversation that followed when he drew back, and she glimpsed the smile on Scully’s face before he slipped his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders and they walked back into the saloon.

Lacey took a shaken breath. Although the kiss had been fleeting, Scully and Charlotte were obviously more than friendly.

Hard questions tormented Lacey. Had she imposed herself upon Scully’s life to the extent that he had no time for the woman he loved?

Had she been so self-absorbed and determined to regain her past since returning to Weaver that she hadn’t given a thought to Scully’s hopes for his future?

Uncommon distress shuddered through Lacey when the answer to those questions became painfully clear.

Lacey swallowed past the lump in her throat, then forced herself on toward the mercantile. She needed to change all that now. She needed to allow Scully time for his own life by immediately taking full charge of her own. It wasn’t only fair, it was the right thing to do. And if that necessity had somehow formed an aching knot inside her, she need remember to be thankful for the blessings God had given her and not lament the loss of something she had never owned.

As for Scully, she would have to depend on the Lord to guide him.

In the meantime, the mission that had brought her out onto the street at that late hour had not changed.

Her smile fixed, Lacey walked into the well-lit mercantile.

Barret blinked. Still at his office window as he liberally imbibed in the solitude, he struggled to clear his vision, then laughed aloud as Lacey stepped out of the boardwalk shadows and walked to the mercantile store.

Lacey had seen Scully and Charlotte together. He had seen the prim Miss Lacey Stewart’s shocked expression when the sultry redhead kissed Scully boldly. He knew it had not missed her notice that Scully and Charlotte had looked quite cozy when they walked back into the brightly lit saloon.

Barret snickered with true enjoyment. It appeared he had judged Lacey harshly. He now believed she had been sincere in her enjoyment of Scully’s attentions. She might even have been considering taking him with her when she went to locate her grandfather’s strike.

However, if Lacey had entertained that intention even for a moment, she had obviously abandoned it now. And since she now knew her hero’s true worth, he might even have been provided with a way back into her good graces. All he needed was a careful word here, and an inference there. That was his forte, after all.

Yet a simple point nagged at him. Scully was a clever, experienced man. It didn’t make sense that he was should be so completely taken in by Lacey’s innocent pose.

Could it be…?

Barret went suddenly cold. Did Scully suspect Charlie had made a strike? Was it possible that the old man had hinted at it during their conversation that last day? If so, he probably believed the strike existed because there was no other reason anyone would go after the old man.