Lacy Read online

  "We'll have to cancel Ben's party—" Lacy began.

  "We shall not," Marion replied firmly. "It may be the last..." Her voice broke and she had to top and try again. "It might be the last party I see at Spanish Flats. We shall not cancel it. Go right ahead with the preparations, Lacy—and I shall do everything I can to help you."

  "It's out of the question," Cole said curtly. It was the first time he'd spoken, and despite the paleness of his face, he was determined.

  "Don't argue with me, please, Coleman," Marion said gently. "I have the right to decide how I spend the time I have left."

  "Simon should never have told you!"

  "Yes, he should. You know that I dislike lies. It was only what I suspected, at any rate. I think I knew, even before he told me," she said quietly, her eyes lackluster but resigned. "I'm a Whitehall, you know," she added, with a forced smile. "We're a very strong breed."

  Cole's dark eyes slid over her face, which showed faint terror, and then to Lacy's equally grim one. Somehow, the fear in Lacy's eyes made him strong. He smiled at her gently, reassuringly, and saw her relax a little. They'd manage, he told her without words.

  "All right,"he said finally. "Have your damned party, if you must."

  "It will give Bennett something to remember," she agreed. "A fine send-off for his engagement and his job."

  "As long as his city friends don't come down here with their noses in the air," Cole replied. "I won't tolerate snobbery—not even for my brother's sake."

  "I'm sure they're not snobs, dear," Marion said, but she didn't look all that certain.

  "No?" Cole turned onto the ranch road, sending a cloud of dust behind them as he accelerated. "I've heard some gossip about the girl he's getting engaged to. She sounds pretty fast to me."

  "It's Ben's life," Lacy reminded him.

  "So it is."

  "Coleman, please slow down. You'll snap the bands again," Marion said, with a weak sigh.

  "I carry plenty of spares," he replied patiently.

  "Tires, too, I hope," Lacy murmured. "We had two punctures the last time I took my great-aunt Lucy to town to shop."

  "Did you change them yourself?" he asked, with a teasing smile.

  She beamed at the camaraderie. "No. Fortunately some of Great-aunt Lucy's gentlemen friends drove us, both times. San Antonio has so much traffic that I would find it terrifying to drive there. If I could drive," she confessed.

  "Never learn, dear," Marion advised. "What you learn, you may be forced to use one day. Better to remain ignorant and untaxed."

  "The voice of wisdom." Cole chuckled. But inwardly he was worrying about how to tell Katy and Ben about their mother. He hated the thought of admitting they were going to lose her. It hurt him as nothing else ever had. At least he had Lacy, he thought, thanking God and his mother for arranging that meeting in San Antonio. It wouldn't be as hard with Lacy beside him through the ordeal.

  Lacy was thinking the same thing, and wondering how Cole was going to tell the others. She was glad it wouldn't be on her shoulders. But, then, Cole's shoulders were very broad, and he never shirked responsibility. Just being with him gave her a sense of confidence and optimism, although certainly there was very little to be optimistic about at the moment. She slid her fingers into Marion's and held on tight. This woman had been both mother and father to her for eight years. It was going to be terribly painful to lose her. But perhaps with plenty of rest and care, Marion could live a little longer. Lacy would certainly do her part, she thought, to stretch however much time she had left.

  Back at Spanish Flats, Marion was coaxed into lying down and resting after she'd had one of the pills Dr. Simon had prescribed. Lacy stayed with her until she fell asleep and then she went to join a somber Cole in the kitchen, where he was drinking a cup of coffee.

  He looked up as she walked into the room, his face pale and drawn, his eyes bitter and sad.

  Lacy, impulsive as always, went straight to him and gently drew his cheek to her breasts, holding him there with her own cheek on his dark hair.

  She felt his quick, indrawn breath, and thought ruefully that she'd probably done the wrong thing again. But his arms suddenly clasped her trim waist and he groaned as he held her.

  "I love her, too," she said gently, her eyes closing. "But we'll manage, somehow."

  "We'll have to," he said stiffly. His heart felt as if it had nails in it. Ten penny nails, at that. Lacy smelled of light cologne and her breasts were soft against his lean cheek. She had a big heart, he thought proudly, and let himself relax. It was the first time in adulthood that he'd accepted comfort from anyone, but today he needed it.

  "You'll tell Ben and Katy?" she asked.

  "Yes. I can telephone Katy, I suppose,"he muttered, disapproval in his tone. "Ben can wait until his party to hear about it. That will give him a little more time to live in blissful ignorance. Perhaps I'll wait until then to tell Katy, too."

  Putting if off until the last minute, Lacy thought, but she didn't say it.

  Finally Cole spanned her waist with his big, lean hands and moved her away from him. He put her into the chair next to his and handed her his handkerchief while he filled a white mug full of steaming black coffee for her.

  She dabbed at the tears. "Thank you."

  He shrugged. "I don't feel any less miserable than you do, if it helps. I didn't mind so much giving up my father. He was a hard, cold man, Lacy.. .with selfish ways and a savage streak. But Mother is—well, Mother."

  "I know." She handed him back the handkerchief and sipped her coffee, her blues eyes meeting his over the rim of the mug. "I won't let her tire herself with this party, but it would be more of a strain on her if we tried to cancel it. She's got her heart set on giving Ben a royal send-off for his wedding and his new job."

  "Spare her as much as you can, then. I'll have the men butcher a steer for you, and a pig, too, if you want it. We can have Taggart and Cherry cook it."

  She managed a wobbly smile. "So long as they don't have to serve it," she said.

  He smiled. "Yes, I understand. We'll keep them downwind of everyone while they cook it."

  "I can get some of the wives to help me prepare the rest of the food and serve it. Cole...I don't suppose it would be wise to invite little Faye?"

  "No. We can't do that to Ben."

  "She's so fragile. I feel quite sorry for her."

  "So do I, Lacy. But people can't love to order."

  Her blue eyes searched over his hard, dark face. "No, they can't," she said softly.

  He met that telling look and his jaw tightened. "One of these days you'll look at me like that and I'll jump the fence."

  She caught her breath. "I don't understand."

  "Don't you?" He moved suddenly, catching her by the nape of her neck with one big hand and pulling her mouth up to meet the hard descent of his.

  He kissed her hungrily for the space of several seconds. Just when she relaxed and gave in, he let her go.

  "You'd give me anything I wanted,"he said huskily, his eyes glittering into hers at point-blank range. "Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to know that?"

  "No, because you keep pulling back," she whispered unsteadily.

  His thumb moved slowly under her lower lip, taking away the dark traces of smudged lip rouge. "I can't make love to you in the light, Lacy," he said roughly. "I'll never be able to."

  She didn't want to speak, to break the spell. He'd never been so frank with her. "It won't matter," she said fiercely. "Don't you understand, Cole? I love you!"

  "Love may not be enough," he said wearily. He got to his feet angrily. "I have to get back to work."

  Lacy got up, too, and retrieved the handkerchief she'd borrowed from beside his plate. "Just a minute. My lip rouge doesn't look that good on you."

  He stopped, standing very still while she wiped his thin lips and removed the traces of dark red from them.

  He watched her face hungrily. After a minute, he took the stained cloth away and,
holding her head in one hand, removed the rouge from her own mouth.

  "Why... ?" she exclaimed.

  He tossed the handkerchief onto the table and bent to lift her off the floor in his bearish embrace. "Kiss me," he breathed against her lips.

  She tingled all over with excitement. She smiled as she gave in to him, her arms around his neck. He was very strong and warm, and she loved the strength as well as the familiar scent of him. Her mouth opened involuntarily and she clung closer as his arms contracted while the long kiss went on and on.

  When he let her back down, her body brushed against his, and its changed contours made her step back quickly, blushing.

  "We're married," he said quietly, dark color staining his own cheeks as he tried not to appear as embarrassed as he was. "We'll both have to get used to it, I guess."

  She swallowed. "Sorry. It's the age of permissiveness, after all. But I suppose I'm still back in the Victorian Age."

  "So am I, if it's any consolation." He touched her cheek gently, his eyes soft and quiet on her face. "Do you want to know what happened in France, Lacy? Are you sure you want to know?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll tell you tonight, then," he said grimly. "We might as well have everything out in the open. Then you can decide whether or not you want to stay. When you know the truth, San Antonio may appeal to you very strongly."

  He turned and left her there, his spurs making musical noises as he strode out the back door and onto the porch.

  He didn't want to tell her. But she had the right to know. If she loved him enough, it would be all right. He hoped she did. He'd never hoped anything as much. With his mother's terminal condition, he didn't know if he could cope alone. He'd never needed anyone before, but he needed Lacy. God willing, she wouldn't run out on him now.

  Lacy watched him go with mixed emotions. Finally he was willing to tell her the truth. She knew it had something to do with what had happened overseas, but she didn't know what. When he told her, perhaps they could settle down to a new understanding and build a lasting relationship. She took the used cups to the sink and began to run water to wash them.

  It was late when Cole came back. He'd been helping two of the men build a bigger calving barn, and they were just now through with the frame. The tin was going on the next day. It was hard work, but the hay-filled stalls were handy for two-year-old heifers who were giving birth for the first time, and for cows who had a hard time. The old barn was getting rickety. Cole's father had always maintained that it was far easier to build a new structure than to repair an old one.

  Lacy was sewing a new dress, so Cole told her to keep on with what she was doing. He went to the kitchen and lifted the white linen cloth that covered the leftover food from the evening meal. He filled himself a plate of cold ham and rolls and canned peas. Then he opened the small icebox and, with the ice pick, chipped off some ice to fill a tall glass. He didn't want to have to ask Lacy to make coffee for him, and he was hot despite the chill because he'd been working. He poured sweetened brewed tea from the ceramic pitcher on the table into his glass. Then he put everything on a tray and went to his mother's room to sit with her while he ate.

  Marion was propped up in bed nibbling on a piece of coconut cake, looking worn and pale. But she smiled at him all the same.

  "How are you feeling?" Cole asked as he put his tray on her bedside table and tossed his hat onto a nearby chair.

  "A little better, I think. Thank you, dear. You look tired."

  "We got the calving shed framed in," he said wearily. "Tomorrow, we'll roof it with tin. Thank God we live in an area with a relatively warm winter. Turk's told me horror stories about calving in a Montana winter, with five feet of snow on the ground."

  Marion nodded. "That's why the cattle industry does so well here in south Texas. Or so your father always said."

  He took a bite of ham and studied her narrowly. "Did you love my father?"

  She started, her eyes wide and round. "Why, of course!"

  "How could you when he was so cruel to you?" he asked quietly. "He treated you like a stick of furniture when he wasn't berating you for some reason or other."

  Marion smiled gently. "You saw the temper. I saw the boy I fell in love with trying too hard to cope with life." She lay back against the mound of pillows, her eyes misting in memory. "He was eighteen and I was sixteen when we married. We took Daddy's buggy and drove to Reverend Johnson's house late one afternoon with our marriage license. He married us and his wife gave us supper. I was so happy, Coleman. Those first years were bliss."

  "And then?"

  She put down the thin white saucer with the cake on it. "And then we bought this ranch. Your father was never cut out to be a rancher. He was a city boy, with big ideas. He would have made a fine businessman. He never was able to cope with cattle."

  "That isn't how I remember him," he muttered.

  "Oh, he learned," Marion said, correcting him. "But he hated the cattle industry, the dust and dirt and carnage of it. A man who is forced to do something he finds abhorrent can be turned cruel." "Perhaps," he said noncommittally.

  "You don't believe me. You love what you do; you enjoy working out of doors. I think you even like the challenge. Someday, Coleman," she continued, her eyes soft, "you won't have to live like this anymore. You'll have something better."

  "I don't need frills," he protested gently. "I suppose Lacy wouldn't mind them, though."

  Marion's eyes twinkled. "Do I dare ask if things are better for the two of you?"

  "They're much better," he said, but his eyes were sad. "For the present."

  The elderly woman studied him without speaking for a long moment. "Lacy loves you very much," she said. "You're like your father in some ways, Coleman—afraid to trust, to open yourself to others because people who can come close enough can hurt you. Lacy never would."

  "People can hurt without intending to," he said, and abruptly changed the subject. Not even to his mother could he talk about his deep fears, his insecurity, his scars. He didn't want to tell Lacy, but if their marriage was to have a chance, he'd have to.

  When he got up to go, Marion reached out and gently touched his hand as it held the tray of empty dishes.

  "You will take care of Ben and Katy.. .when the time comes?" she asked worriedly.

  His face went hard as he looked down at her, seeing his life flash before him, all the memories of her loving care, her tenderness.

  "Haven't I always?"he asked quietly. "Now stop that. God was here first. He made doctors."

  Marion smiled. "Yes, He did, didn't he?"

  "You remember that." He bent and kissed her forehead gently. He wasn't an affectionate man, but he did love his mother. She touched his hair gently, remembering the tiny, black-headed baby she'd cradled in her arms, held against her heart, twenty-eight long years before. Many a dark night she'd rocked him in the cane-bottom rocker near her bedroom window, watching him nurse while her husband slept soundly in the bed nearby. Tears stung her eyes hotly, but she hid them. A mother's memories were precious, and private, something she rarely shared even with the children who provided them.

  "Will you take my saucer back to the kitchen with you?" she asked, managing to sound almost normal.

  "Certainly." He added it to the tray and smiled at her. "Try to sleep."

  "I'll do that. Pull out the top light as you go, will you, dear?" "Sleep well."

  He reached up to the metal string attached to the socket of the lone, stark bulk suspended from the high ceiling and tugged. The light went out promptly. Cole shook his head at the modern miracle. The family had gone to bed by kerosene lantern until two years ago. Electricity was still a luxury, like the telephone, but Marion had said that cattle prices went up while Cole was in France recuperating in the hospital after the war. So many new things graced the old house on his return. He did know how war seemed to boost the economy, so he'd never questioned it. His mother had so enjoyed those luxuries that he didn't have the heart to chide her
about the money that could have gone into an improved breeding program. With the neighbors' help, and Taggart and Cherry overseeing his cattle, at least the ranch had done okay while he was off fighting. That was one big blessing. Now if he could just manage to pay off the mortgage before he lost the whole business, that would be his best one—next to keeping Marion alive as long as possible, he added silently, and with an absent prayer.

  But at the moment, he had another worry on his mind. How to tell Lacy, as he'd promised he would tonight, that her dreams of a family could never come true.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Cole finished his bath and dressed in clean clothes, Lacy was sitting in front of the small fireplace in their bedroom, having laid a fire in it. She was hemming the dress she'd made, her face glowing softly in the firelight. The high-ceilinged rooms were quite cool in November, despite the fact that it was south Texas. The fire felt good.

  Cole paused beside her chair. "I put the dishes in the sink," he remarked quietly. "They'll keep until morning."

  She smiled up at him. "Thank you. How is Marion?"

  "I pulled off the light. She said she was going to try to sleep." He sat down in the straight-backed chair beside hers and ran a restless hand through his hair, damp from the tub. "I promised you an explanation."

  She slid her needle through the fabric of her dress and her hands stilled. Her blue eyes held his. "Yes."

  "It's going to be hard."

  "I told you before.. .nothing will matter, Cole," she told him.

  "Won't it?" he asked, with veiled sarcasm. He leaned back in the chair precariously and began to roll a cigarette. "You knew that I was wounded in France, and that it took a long time for me to heal. What you don't know is how it happened." He put the finished cigarette in his mouth and reached over to get one of the big kitchen matches that were used to light fires. He stuck it in the stone hearth and lit the cigarette, tossing the used match into the fire. "I was flying back from a raid on the German lines. There were several of us, in formation. We were surprised by a German circus that was on its way back to camp after raiding our front."