A Texan's Luck Page 5

  "Well, since I didn't have to get married ..." She glared at Walker. "I have changed my mind. I don't want to be married to him."

  Riley looked at him.

  Walker folded his arms over his chest and shrugged without taking his eyes off Lacy.

  The sheriff scratched his chin. "You feel the same way, son?"

  Walker nodded. "I never wanted to get married in the first place."

  Riley shook his head as if trying to wake himself up. "Well, I don't see any reason why this marriage can't be annulled." He shrugged. 'Two out of three's not bad. Bailee loves her Carter, and Sarah's crazy about her man. It's just luck of the draw not to win every time."

  He moved over to his desk. "Since the marriage was never consummated, I don't see that there should be any problem ending it. I'll get the lawyer to draw up the papers and talk to the judge when he makes his rounds next week."

  He looked up at Lacy, then at Walker. "The marriage is just in name only, right?"

  The color drained from Lacy's face.

  Walker refused to answer. If she were going to lie, he'd say nothing, but he wouldn't be the one to deny the truth.

  The sheriff raised an eyebrow and frowned. "You didn't force yourself on this little lady, did you, Captain?" He reached for the weapon he'd been using as a paperweight.

  "No," Walker answered, never removing his stare from Lacy.

  The color returned to her face, flooding her cheeks with fire.

  "Miss Lacy." The sheriff moved to stand beside her. "Did this man hurt you in any way? Did he force you into his bed? Because if he did, there's a strong likelihood you won't have to worry about an annulment; you'll be a widow before dark."

  The silence in the room was so complete Walker could hear his heart beating. All she had to do was tell Riley he'd forced her, and these might be the last beats he heard. The sheriff loved her as if she were his daughter; he'd proved that in his letter to pull Walker off duty to protect her. And

  from the way he held his gun, he would be willing to prove it again. The old man would take her word against his.

  Walker realized a quick-tempered, crazy lady held his life in her hands.

  "He didn't force me," she finally said. "I forced him."

  Walker closed his eyes, almost wishing she'd lied.

  The sheriff's gun rattled back on the desk as he laughed. "Well now, that's different. Why don't you tell me why you don't want to be married after you liked him well enough to take him to bed?"

  Walker opened his eyes, wanting to hear the answer as well.

  Lacy looked like she might cry; then she lifted her . chin and stared at him. "Never mind, I'll kill him myself, Sheriff."

  Walker glanced at the sheriff for help. In that second, Lacy bolted, running past him and back out into the street.

  He turned to follow, but Riley stepped in his path. "What did you do, son, to get her so riled up?"

  "Me?" Walker was insulted the man would even ask. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be the innocent party here? I've only been in town for a few hours. She's completely insane. If I have to live with her for a month, I'll be volunteering to step in front of a firing squad."

  Riley smiled. "Did you figure that out before or after you slept with her?"

  "We didn't have time to sleep," Walker snapped before he realized how his words sounded. "All I want is a logical woman to deal with. Is that too much to ask?"

  Riley scratched his whiskery chin. "That may be, son. Can you remember the last thing you said to her before she started yelling?"

  Walker rubbed the back of his neck. "I asked for a few little changes. I told her she'd have to get rid of her cats."

  "That's it." Riley slapped Walker on the back. "Everyone in town knows that Lacy's crazy about animals." He hesitated a moment. "Everyone, it. seems, but her husband."

  Walker offered his hand. "Thank you for your time, Sheriff."

  The old man gripped his hand. "You wouldn't want to tell me about how the little lady forced you to make the marriage a real one, would you?"

  "I would not." Walker turned to leave. "And don't bother asking again."

  The sheriff laughed. "Oh, no bother, Captain. No bother at all."

  CHAPTER 5

  Walker marched into the street with the Sheriff's words echoing in his mind. "Everyone knows Lacy loves animals," Riley said, as if he should have known how his wife felt.

  Strangers knew more about her than he did. If he planned to keep her safe, he'd better start learning ... and learn fast. So far today he'd learned she had a temper and, to give her credit, she was honest. She could have lied to the sheriff.

  He noticed her talking with a few of the farmers' wives. She was the only one without a jacket. The sun fought its way through the clouds, but the day wouldn't be warm enough to go without a coat for at least another two hours.

  Since she didn't seem to be going anywhere soon, Walker crossed to the print shop, hoping to find a shawl or coat for her.

  To his surprise, the print shop door stood wide open. So much for security. An old man, wearing a well-worn

  apron over ink-stained clothes, greeted Walker with a nod.

  "Can I help you?" He whittled the end of a pencil with his pocketknife.

  "I'm Captain Larson."

  The old man cupped one hand to his ear. "Say what?"

  "I'm Walker Larson. Lacy's husband." It sounded strange identifying himself by anything other than his rank.

  The old man grinned without the burden of teeth. "Figured that. Somebody said you were in town. Usually don't see anyone in a uniform unless the supply wagon from Fort Elliot comes in to pick up something at the station." The printer's devil offered his ink-stained hand. "I'm Duncan James. Been working here setting type for close to five years. Worked for your pa before Miss Lacy took over. Mighty fine man, your pa, and mighty fine wife you got there, Mr. Larson."

  Gripping Duncan's hand, Walker yelled, "Nice to meet you."

  Duncan smiled and moved back to his desk. When a man worked as a printer's devil, as typesetters were called, his shoulders often rounded over time. Walker would have guessed the man's occupation, even if he'd seen him outside the shop.

  Walker looked around the shop. Not much had changed since he'd been a boy. The furniture and machines appeared a little more worn. Just behind the long, high counter spread the main work area of the shop with a storage room to the left and a tiny office to the right. There were several tables cluttered with supplies and lamps hanging from wide beams to offer good light if anyone had to work after dark. The large windows across the front of the shop provided enough sunlight for daytime.

  Walker frowned. The windows also allowed passersby to see almost the entire shop and anyone who might be working inside.

  Crossing to the office, he wasn't shocked to find it as messy with papers and bills as the apartment had been with quilts and books. This had to be Lacy's domain. He was starting to recognize his wife's trademark.

  Sweaters and old shirts, probably used as dusters during the printing work, weighed down a hat tree in the corner. Walker dug through and managed to untangle a jacket. He folded it over his arm and headed back to the street, wondering if he could possibly get his wife organized in less than a month. If she started today, she might be able to have her office and quarters livable by the time he left.

  Somehow he doubted she intended to make the effort. After what she'd said to Sheriff Riley, he wouldn't be surprised if she was taking up a collection to have him shot at high noon. With his luck, the folks in Cedar Point would go along with her campaign. He'd left few friends behind when he'd ridden out of town at seventeen.

  Her laughter reached him before he saw her in the crowd of people. He liked the sound, realizing that a woman's laughter was something missing for most of his life. He had no memory of his mother, and women at the frontier forts were few.

  She stopped laughing when she saw him moving toward her, but she didn't dart away. She simply stood, watchi
ng him as he lifted her jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

  "Thank you."

  He figured he'd be lucky if he had five seconds before she threatened to kill him again so he said, "The cats stay."

  Lacy raised an eyebrow. "Did the sheriff tell you to say that?"

  "No. He told me how much they matter to you. I still feel you'd be safer without them in the house. It's easy to blame a noise on a cat when it might be an intruder. But I can work around that problem if they're important to you."

  She tilted her head and studied him as if she didn't know whether to believe him or not. She didn't seem the least bit grateful that he'd conceded, but he'd long ago become an expert at not allowing his frustrations to show.

  He offered his arm.

  She hesitated, then took it.

  They walked down the street until they were far enough from the crowd not to be overheard. "We can work this out," Walker said as if he believed his own words.

  "I don't take orders, and I don't follow schedules. You're not stepping into my life, my world, and changing everything just because of something you've been ordered to do. You're free to leave. I'm safe enough here in town. Zeb Whitaker probably forgot all about me years ago."

  He thought of arguing, but he wasn't sure what she'd say. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to the fort and explain to his commander why he couldn't stay around and protect his wife for one month. Or worse yet, leave Lacy unprotected. If Zeb Whitaker got to her, he'd never forgive himself for neglecting his duty.

  And that's all she was, he told himself. His duty. A duty he never asked for. But he was a man who'd never turned his back on what he knew he had to do. If he had to get along with her in order to stay and complete his mission, he would.

  "All right. No orders, but I stay until my time is over." He accepted her terms and wondered if she'd ever heard of the word compromise. "One rule for each of us is all I ask. You allow me to protect you, and I'll try not to interfere with your life."

  "Fair enough."

  He placed his hand over hers as they declared a silent truce. Then, without a word, they continued walking down the street. Lacy introduced him to almost everyone they passed. A few of the people said they remembered him as a kid, but most had moved to town in the years since he'd been gone.

  Lacy calmed as they moved along. She'd never had a handsome man to walk with. Not one day of her life. Captain Walker might be heartless, but one thing she couldn't deny: he was handsome in his blue wool uniform. She noticed people who'd never paid her any mind, like the ladies on the second floor of the saloon, were now looking her over. With Walker by her side, some of the men seemed more respectful, more formal, and a few of the women giggled at everything he said as if it were funny.

  Walker asked her advice about which fruits and vegetables to buy, then paid for them without really asking her if she wanted or needed them. Slowly, she became aware of what he was doing. He bought one thing, sometimes more, from each vendor. In a very simple way, he was meeting everyone, making friends, paying his respects.

  Only, she knew his plan would fail when he got to the church ladies' table. Lacy knew most of the women, but she was not one of their circle. She'd learned from experience that they weren't accepting of outsiders. They had always been polite but never friendly to her.

  With a smile, Walker changed all that. He bragged on their work, even buying one of the crocheted Bible covers he swore his sergeant's wife would love. He had them all beaming proudly that finally someone had noticed their efforts. When he suggested they make aprons for men, the ladies of the church circle laughed so hard, folks turned to look from half a block away.

  Lacy stood in awe, wondering who had taken over her husband's body. Could this be the same man who had issued one order after another since arriving? She'd seen men who were smooth talking, usually salesmen who passed through from time to time, but nothing like Walker. By the time he left the church ladies' table he could have run for mayor and won.

  She expected his bossy, rude manner to return when he talked with the men. It never did. He asked each man about his work or for facts related to the town. His plan seemed so simple. He paid each man respect, showed interest in whatever they did, and in return they gave him respect back. By the time they'd finished walking the street, her anger had cooled, and Lacy decided not to kill him. If she could just put up with him for a month, folks might be a lot friendlier toward her.

  She could almost see the future, everyone stopping by to ask how Walker was doing, talking about how much they enjoyed meeting him and asking when he'd be coming back. Of course then she'd have to look sad and tell them she didn't know.

  Several times Walker offered his arm to her, which she accepted awkwardly at first, but she grew used to him standing next to her. He switched sides from time to time, always putting his body nearer the street. He also had a habit of brushing his hand over hers when he was talking to someone and not even looking at her. Lacy guessed he checked to make sure she was still there.

  They walked back to the print shop and relieved Duncan so he could go home for lunch. The other employee, Eli, as he often did when the temperature dropped, hadn't bothered to show up. The old printer was a thin man the weather seemed to pass right through. He complained of the heat all summer and the cold all winter.

  Jay Boy reported in and collected the last stack of papers. He said sales were going great for some reason; even the church ladies bought a few copies. Lacy told him to head on home when he ran out of papers; his mother would be needing him to do chores.

  When Lacy finally thought to introduce him to her husband, Walker stood and offered his hand as if Jay Boy were a full-grown man.

  To her shock, Walker asked for a favor. "It seems I bought way too many vegetables without realizing Lacy has no root cellar. Do you think your mom would be willing to take some off my hands? I'd really appreciate it."

  Jay Boy nodded, looking at the bag. "She can make a great soup with all this."

  When he'd left, Lacy faced Walker. "That was nice of you."

  "He's a hard worker."

  "That he is." Lacy felt awkward, suddenly aware that she was once more alone with this strange man. "I've work to do." She turned and went into her office, thankful that he didn't follow. "I have friends I usually visit on Saturday, but they won't be expecting me if the weather gets worse," she commented over her shoulder.

  "Will they mind if I come along?" he asked as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  Lacy thought of Carter, who never welcomed strangers, and wondered if the big, silent man would let Walker on his property. Even after being married to her friend Bailee for almost five years, Lacy still wasn't completely comfortable around the man. He watched everyone as if trying to figure out when they might try to kill him. The only person he thawed around was his wife. Lacy had seen it from the first: Bailee centered Carter's world, and the strange thing was, he did the same thing for her.

  "They'll let you in," Lacy finally remembered Walker waited for an answer. "But I wouldn't make any quick moves around Carter. He doesn't warm easily to strangers."

  "How long did he take to relax around you?"

  Lacy smiled. "I'm still waiting."

  Walker's frown almost made her laugh.

  As the afternoon passed, she glanced through the open door of her office to see him sitting on a stool pulled up to the counter. After watching her a few times, he started taking ad orders without calling for her when someone walked in. She had no idea if he knew what he was doing, but he couldn't be any worse than Duncan, who left out every other word.

  The folks who came stayed longer to talk than they usually did, but Lacy noticed that Walker's strength lay in encouraging them, not in talking himself.

  By midafternoon, snow began to fall, and all traffic vanished. Walker stoked the stove and bent over old issues of the paper as if finding them fascinating. When she walked out of her office, she noticed he had removed his coat and looked totall
y relaxed. A huge pile of wood had been stacked by the fire. Lacy had no idea when he'd left to buy wood.

  She stretched. "I'm about finished. You can go on up if you like. You don't have to stay here. I'm perfectly—"

  She forgot what she'd been about to say when she noticed the rifle leaning against his knee and his long Colt pulled from its holster and placed a few layers beneath the paper he appeared to be reading.

  "What's wrong?" Maybe he was just being cautious.

  He didn't meet her gaze. His head still bent slightly toward the paper, but his gaze fixed on something beyond the windows. "Someone is watching us from across the street," he said so softly he might have been reading the words to himself. "I saw the reflection off a rifle barrel just before the sun faded. The snow's too thick to make him out, but once in a while I see a movement in the gap between the hotel and the mercantile."

  Lacy fought the urge to turn and see for herself. No one is there. If she didn't look, she didn't have to believe. He was just trying to frighten her.

  "In a few minutes it will be full dark, and we need to be away from these windows." Walker slowly turned the page of the paper.

  Lacy didn't argue. If they stayed downstairs longer, she needed to light the lamps. With the lamplight, the shop would glow through the darkness outside.

  As she turned to close her office door, she heard the sudden scrape of Walker's stool against the wooden floor. A second later, Walker flew into her, knocking her to the floor. Just before she hit, he rolled, taking the blow of their fall against his shoulder.

  Before she could scream, a bullet hit the window and shattered the pane over them like fine glass snow. Walker's arm covered her face for a few heartbeats, then he was up, pulling her with him toward the stairs that led to the apartment.

  Another shot rattled off the iron of the printing press. Walker moved so quickly, Lacy's feet barely touched the floor as she ran behind him.

  They made it to the landing where the steps turned. A blast of icy air chilled the shop as Lacy fought to breathe.

  He stopped, pulling her down with him to sit on the first step past the landing, out of sight of the windows. "Stay here," he ordered, then turned without waiting for an argument and went back down the stairs.