A Texan's Luck (13 page)

He knelt and picked up his purchases, realizing Samantha's beauty no longer affected him. "You never knew me at all, madam." His tone froze colder than the air outside. The last thing he wanted to dredge up were memories of warm summer evenings with Samantha in his arms. The perfume he once thought intoxicating now only seemed stagnant.

Turning, he offered the box to Lacy but spoke to Samantha. "Not that this is any concern of yours, Samantha, but these are a surprise for my wife."

Lacy started to protest, then glanced over at Samantha and said simply, "Thank you, dear."

Walker couldn't help but smile. Lacy wasn't fooled for one moment by Samantha's ways. She might not know the history between them, but she knew he wasn't interested in this beautiful woman who filled the room with her self-importance.

Jay Boy, however, stood with his mouth open as if the tall blonde was a one-woman parade. Duncan also watched, for once able to hear everything being said, thanks to Samantha's constant volume.

Lacy turned to step back into her tiny office, digging through the box as if it were Christmas morning.

Samantha dismissed Lacy and gave her full attention to Walker. "I was just telling your bride that I'm her sister-in-law. Or at least I guess I still am, even though I'm Emory's widow. You did know he died almost four years ago. Tragically, I'm afraid, in a gunfight."

Before Walker informed her he'd heard the fight was in defense of her honor, she added with a wave of her hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say bride when I referred to her." She gave another graceful wave of her hand toward the office. "You two have been married, how long? Let me think. Oh yes, five years, she said. Even though this must be the first time you've bothered to come home to see your
wife
or I would have heard about it, surely." She said the word
wife
as if it dirtied her tongue.

"Lucy, isn't it?" She whispered, but still said the name loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Lacy," he corrected with a weary stare.

Samantha almost appeared sorry for him. "Such a pretty name for such a plain girl. No wonder you've never been with her."

Walker looked over Samantha's shoulder. Lacy was tugging on one of her new boots, absently revealing several inches of her leg as she did so. She might not have furs and jewels, but nothing about his wife was plain. When she glanced up, she smiled shyly, and he couldn't help but wink at her. "My
bride
manages to come to me," he said to Samantha.

Lacy covered her laughter as Samantha whirled toward the office.

"Is that true, dear?" She leaned forward as if talking to a child. "You go traipsing across the country to find him?"

Lacy stood, testing out her new boots. "I certainly do."

Samantha gave Lacy a
You should be ashamed
look, but Lacy only watched Walker and pointed at her boots.

Walker couldn't help himself; he smiled.

He turned back to the beautiful Samantha and regarded her as if she were no more than a smashed beetle.

"Well, it was nice visiting with you, Samantha," Walker said, "but if you don't plan to place an ad, I'm afraid I'll have to bid you good day. We have to get back to work. Lacy has a paper to run, and I've promised to be her slave for the day."

"But Walker," Samantha lowered her voice. "Aren't you thrilled to see me? I know you were angry when we parted years ago. I may have made a few mistakes that I've suffered long regretting, but I'm sure a part of you still loves me." She played with the hood of her coat as if hoping he'd notice that framed in fur she was far more beautiful as a woman than she'd been as a girl. "I thought you'd want to spend some time with me before my train."

Walker in return lowered his words to her. "You're wrong, Samantha. I worshiped you as only a seventeen-year-old boy can. But that died the night you left with Emory and all the money my father had spent his life saving. You married my brother, not me, and I feel we've already spent far too much time together this morning. I wouldn't want you to miss your train."

She placed one delicate hand over Walker's heart, spreading her fingers as if she could dust away any pain she'd caused. "But Emory's dead," she whined as if Walker's brother were no more than a toy that had broken.

"So is my love for you," Walker whispered as he offered his arm.

Lacy stomped out of the office in her new boots, her eyes dancing with joy.

Samantha straightened and said in a tone dripping with sugar, "I hope to visit with you again, dear sister-in-law, but I've a train to catch this morning as soon as the tracks are clear." She glanced at the boots. "Oh, by the way, those are fine boots. Nothing like you could get in Dallas or Chicago, but good enough for here."

"Thanks," Lacy said, as if the statement were a compliment.

Samantha looked back at Walker. "We had something once."

"Maybe," Walker answered. "But it's over, Samantha."

She huffed, obviously realizing she'd lost a battle. "We'll see one another again soon." Her voice was no longer warm. "I've some business to talk over with you as soon as I get back from Dallas."

"We've nothing to discuss." Walker politely offered her his arm once more and took another step toward the door.

"Oh, but dear brother, we do. By right, half of this place was Emory's, and therefore now mine."

"Not a chance." He held the door open for her. He'd burn it to the ground before he'd let her have one board of the print shop.

Before she could answer, he closed the door.

Lacy stood beside Walker watching Samantha muster her pride and try to walk across the muddy street with grace. When she'd disappeared around a freight wagon, Lacy leaned closer to him. "I thought you said you had no women friends to talk to. That one seemed mighty willing to talk."

Walker laughed. "She was never my friend. And with Samantha, one doesn't talk, one only listens."

He offered his arm just as he had to Samantha.

Lacy accepted it hesitantly. "Thank you for the boots, but you shouldn't have."

"I've something I have to talk over with you, if we could step into your office." He opened his hand to allow her to go into the tiny space first.

She did, but offered him the only chair as she closed the door.

While he explained about the money he'd put in an account for her, Walker could see Duncan and Jay Boy trying to act like they weren't watching through the closed glass of the office door. He sat while Lacy paced three steps one way and then three in the other, waving her arms and shaking her head.

She didn't want his money. Didn't want anything from him. He'd given her his name and a ticket out of jail. That was enough. He could keep the money. She would make it fine.

Walker remained calm as she stormed. He didn't plan to back down an inch. The money was rightfully hers.

"If you don't want it, I'll stack your apartment full of supplies before I leave and tell Willard to restock every month."

"He wouldn't—"

"He would if it meant a sale, and we both know it,"

Walker said. "So you can pick out the supplies you need and take the allotment, or I can guess what you'll need, but you're taking the money."

"No."

Walker leaned forward in the chair. "Look, I'm not easy to find. How about you agree to keep the money for that rainy day you worry about. What does it matter if you have a few dollars squirreled away or a few thousand? If you can't make the payroll one week, you'll be glad you have it."

"Can I give all the guys a raise in salary? I don't think they've had one in years."

"It's your money. Do whatever you like." He saw the crack in her armor. "But my guess is they could really use a raise, so I'd hope you'd make it a fair one. And maybe you could stock up on a few of the supplies around here. And make sure you've enough wood to last the winter." He could go on, but he didn't want to push it.

"I'd like to buy your father a proper marker. He always paid his own way. He even left me money for his funeral, but I only had enough for a wooden cross."

"Lacy, no one can tell you how to spend the money; it's yours. We'll go pick out a stone today, if it's important to you." Walker relaxed, realizing that he'd won.

"It is," she stated. "I'd like to order a few new parts for the printing press. We've been making do. And wood to last the winter is a good idea. Eli can come to work on cold days and be warm in the shop."

"You could buy a little house if you like with that much money and have somewhere to go besides upstairs after work." Walker advised.

"No. I'll not go wasting my rainy day money when I have a perfectly good place to sleep upstairs."

Walker smiled, realizing she'd finally called the account hers. "But—"

She leaned down and poked his chest, sending his chair backward a few inches. "Now don't go telling me how to spend my money, Captain," she warned with a smile.

He caught her hand and on impulse pulled her down on his lap. "As you wish."

When she tugged her hands, he let go, worried that he'd gone too far. Right now their friendship was thin glass over a turbulent sea.

But she didn't look angry, and she didn't get off his lap. For a moment she just sat and smiled, holding her bank statement as if it were gold. "Thank you," she finally said. "I'll be careful with my rainy day money. It means a lot that I won't have to worry about the men being paid. I even had to sell the furniture upstairs to make payroll once."

Then, to his total surprise, she leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek as he had her the night before. One light, friendly kiss.

After Samantha left, Lacy and Walker spent the
day working. Eli, Lacy's third employee, didn't come in because of the cold, so the captain took his place. Having grown up around a printing press, Walker knew each job as well or better than Lacy. She was surprised at the amount of work they got done. For the first time she understood how Walker's father, as a young man, could have run the place himself. Without three employees, and with new machines, his income would have supported a family. Walker said whenever his dad ran short on time, he drafted the sons to pitch in. Emory became an expert at disappearing, but Walker admitted that he never minded helping.

As they worked, Lacy filled him in on all that had happened in the town since she'd arrived while Walker talked about the past when Cedar Point had only been half the size.

Old Duncan even departed from his normally gloomy state and hummed out of tune now and then. Jay Boy asked Walker one question after another about the army and campaigns he'd fought. To her surprise, Walker tried hard to paint an accurate picture of army life, not blowing it up into dreams of glory as many men might have been tempted to do. When he told the boy that, more often than not, he had to do his own laundry, the army lost its appeal to Jay Boy.

The sheriff dropped by again in the afternoon and insisted on accompanying them to the mercantile. He stood in the front of the store and whispered to Walker while Lacy shopped.

At first, she was at a loss for what to buy. She needed everything and had never truly looked around the store for fear she'd start dreaming of things she couldn't afford. Finally, she decided she'd buy five items. Then tomorrow, if she wanted, she'd buy five more. In a strange way, she needed time to enjoy each.

She bought a thread box with twenty different colors of thread on big wooden spools, seven yards of wool for a new dress, white lace for the trim, a wonderful coat of navy blue, and two extra buckets for her kitchen.

If Walker thought the purchases strange, he didn't comment. He bought a few thin cigars and a pound of coffee while Riley helped with the packages. Both men seemed in a hurry to get back to the print shop. Lacy thought it might just be that they hated shopping or worse, visiting with every woman who wandered into the place.

Then she noticed the long row of windows across the front of the store and guessed why they were on edge.

When she asked, both were a little too quick to reassure her nothing was wrong.

As they walked back, Walker asked, "Is old Mitchell, the lawyer, still around?"

"Sure," Riley answered. "He only goes into the office about once a week, and the paperwork keeps piling up there, but his shingle is still out."

"If you could stay with Lacy for a few minutes, I'd like to drop by and see him."

Riley nodded as Walker left them. "Didn't know him and the old man were so close," Riley said more to himself than Lacy. "Mitchell's a good guy. Hope if we ever get another lawyer in town he's half the man."

Lacy didn't comment, but she tried to guess why Walker felt he needed to see Mitchell. All she could come up with was that somehow Samantha must have said something. Or maybe Walker simply had a question about the law; he seemed to be studying up on it.

That evening, Lacy wore her new wool coat and her boots and gloves. She'd never felt so warm and happy in her life. She debated telling Walker that she now owned her first new coat. All the others before had been hand-me-downs or bought secondhand.