Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) (21 page)

Turning
side to side, Grace appraised her reflection in the oval mirror even as Raney
finished buttoning the dress. Red check gingham with long sleeves and a
stitched bodice, it wasn’t fancy, and the skirt was too wide for the times, but
it fit better than the over-sized garb she’d been wearing for a month now.
Grace had forgotten she had any curves. Stuck in that bed for two days, she
thought she was nothing but bruises.

“Glad
I saved these,” Raney mused. “They’re a little out of fashion, but at least
they’re not pants.”

Grace
fluffed the skirt then touched her short-hair, barely covering her ears now.
She wore it slicked down and parted on the side, the most masculine style she
could manage. Still, Grace could see the feminine aspects of her face. Everyone
else could only see the boy in her. Funny how Susanna had spotted the lie right
off.

“Now,
there,” Raney chuckled as she surveyed Grace’s figure in the mirror. “Oh, my . . .
obviously, you ain’t a boy. And I feel pretty stupid.”

What
was it Susanna had said?
“No one was looking for a girl.”

“I
reckon.” Raney began running her fingers through Grace’s hair, flipping it and
fluffing it, giving her a softer, more feminine edge. “There. That’s some
better anyway.”

“You . . .
you . . .?”

Both
women gasped and spun at the sound of Thad’s voice. He stood stock-still, face
frozen in horror, lips fighting a grimace. But his
eyes
, wide and
haunted, moved. His gaze raced over every inch of Grace then ricocheted
back-and-forth between her and Raney. Grace wasn’t sure what scared her more:
his battered face or the curl in his lip.

“Uh
oh,” the older woman whispered. “Maybe I should go in the kitchen.”

“No,”
Grace and Thad both said in desperate unity.

Grace
reached back and grabbed Raney’s hand. “No.” Her heart galloped in her chest,
like stampeding cattle.

Thad’s
expression slowly began to change into something else, something darker. Grace
saw the storm forming, and felt sick to her stomach. The muscles in Thad’s face
hardened like iron, his nostrils flared. His blue eyes deepened to a dark,
angry purple.

“You’ve
been lying, too.”

The
resentment and disappointment in his voice broke Grace’s heart. “Thad, I can
explain.” She took a step forward but he stepped back, as if she were carrying the
plague.

“All
those things I said,” he stared at her feet, shaking his head in disbelief. “Telling
Greg how I was gonna marry you, and how I felt about you.” His gaze streaked
up. “We slept in the same bed. Went swimmin’ . . .” All the ways
Grace had betrayed him. “And it was you the whole time.”

“Thad,
I’m sorry, but I have a reason for ly—”

“She
was only trying to get her son back,” Raney jumped in. “You have to believe—”

“Believe?”
he spat the word through clenched teeth, and Grace and Raney recoiled. His lip
curled into a sneer. “I’ve got nothin’ left to believe in.”

Grace
wilted beneath his glare. She pressed a hand to her breast, stunned at the
depth of her heartbreak.

“I
came to tell you that Bull is in town lookin’ for you. He shouldn’t be able to
find you.” Thad’s tone was as cold as his stare was empty. “At least not easily.”
He shifted to Raney. “I had a run-in with Trampas, Shonsey, and some hands from
a few other outfits.” He hung his head, cleared his throat. “I think they’re
going after somebody. You might want to warn the independents. I’d start with
Nate.”

Thad
raised his hand and rested it on his gun. Moving like he was lifting a huge
weight, his head came up, and he locked eyes with Grace. His lips narrowed, the
muscles in his neck tightened. Grace wanted to scream she was sorry, beg his
forgiveness, but the cold in his expression held her back. “I can’t abide a
liar.”

His
words knocked the air out of her, as surely as if he’d kicked her. Jaw clenched
like he was biting down on a bullet, he backed through the doorway,
disappearing down the hallway. A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

Heartsick,
Grace sagged against Raney. “What have I done?”

“You
have humiliated a Walker,” she sounded as if she’d pronounced a death sentence,
“but we can’t worry about that now.” She took hold of Grace’s shoulders and
spun her around. “Listen to me carefully. I need you to send a telegram for me.
I’ll ride over to Nate’s to let him know about Trampas and Shonsey so he can
warn the other independents.” Her gaze drifted. “Then I’m going to the Lazy H to
see if I can stop this madness. I’ll be back in a day or two.”

“All
right.” Grace knew this was all beyond her petty broken heart. She could wallow
in self-pity later. “I’ll hurry.”

Raney
squeezed Grace’s shoulder. “Change back into your old clothes, and keep an eye
out for that husband of yours.”

“Yes,
ma’am.”

Thad
was so angry he wanted to shake his fist at Heaven and beat the life out of
something. Instead, he and Bo pounded across the sea of brittle, tawny grass,
like Hell was on his heels.

And
it felt like it was.

His
whole world was coming undone.

Furious
he was even having such melodramatic thoughts, he hunkered down in the saddle,
and gave Bo his head. The Walkers would stand together and face the WSGA. He
would push Pa to do the right thing and quit blaming all the rustling on the
independents. He would
make
him see the senseless greed behind all these
murders.

And
he would never see Grace Hendrick again.

The
crack of a rifle from somewhere behind Thad shattered his wallow in self-pity.
He reined Bo in and spun him around, pulling his .45 at the same time.

Several
hundred yards off, Nick rode toward him, hell-bent-for-leather and waving his
rifle. Thad kicked Bo into a gallop and cut the distance.

“Hey,
brother,” Nick hailed him as they both skidded to a stop. “I got some new—”
Nick whistled in awe. “What train did you step in front of?”

Thad
tightened the reins, pulling his horse’s head down and turning him in circles. “Never
mind. What’s your news?”

Nick
holstered the rifle. “The SGA
commissioned
Shonsey and Trampas to do
some killin’. They’re an honest-to-God assassination squad, and top of their
list is Nate Champion. But their first kill was Waggoner.”

“You
got proof?”

“No,
at least not yet, but I trust the information. And, Thad,” Nick licked his lips,
“Pa voted for it. He knows what they’re doing and who they’re going after.”

Bo
settled down and Thad tried to deal with the miserable, stinking revelation.
Paying dues didn’t include murdering men who were only trying to make a living.
How . . .? Why had Pa gone so far down this road?

“I’m
not the Christian man you are, Thad, but I can’t stand by and let this happen.
We should have started pushing back, when they lynched Ella.”

Thad
leaned his head back and watched the roiling gray clouds over head. He felt the
same way, churned up and chaotic. “We’ll start with Pa. The minute he gets
back.”

The
air in Misery seemed electrified. Tension vibrated all around. As Grace and
Dandy trotted down the street, she noticed men running, gathering in small
groups, and whispering in the shadows.

Cross
looks and fearful expressions collided. A fight broke out in front of the bank,
and she had to jerk Dandy to the right to avoid the two men. Fists flying,
blood spattering, they called each other names like “dirty independent” and “filthy,
boot-licking coward.” It reminded Grace of a fight on the playground. If only
the bloodlust over cows and grass were that trivial.

Aware
she was riding up the fuse of a powder keg, she kicked Dandy up to an easy lope
and hurried toward the Western Union office. She’d promised Raney she would get
in and get out, and she planned to keep her word.

Bull
grabbed Sheriff Phillips’ shirt with big, bulky fingers, and shoved the man up
against the wall. A deputy reached for his side-arm, but Lonnie drew his
slender .32 before the lawman cleared leather.

Pointing
at the deputy’s heart, Lonnie shook his head. “That would be a bad decision on
yer part, mate.”

The
deputy eased the .45 back into his holster and raised his hands. Trouble in-hand,
Bull returned his attention to the sheriff. “Now, I simply need to know why you
have been filling my telegrams with this rot about a brother. I need to find my
wife,” he slammed the sheriff against the wall again and raised his voice to a
gravelly yell, “and I need to find her now!”

Sheriff
Phillips raised his hands and shook his head. “Honest, mister, I got no idea.
She came in, told me her name, then twirled outta here, and that’s the last I
saw of her.”

Bull’s
hand moved to the sheriff’s portly neck. “Maybe you cowboys think we’re a couple
of dumb city boys, but I will kill you deader than four o’clock, Sheriff—”

“There
he is, there he is,” the deputy yelled, pointing over Bull’s shoulder. “He’s
right there.” Bull dragged the sheriff to the window for a better view. “Yeah,
that’s the kid brother, Greg.”

“Now,
this is certainly an interesting development, as my wife does not have a
brother.”

Phillips’
eyes widened. “He—he’s been going around tellin’ everybody he’s her brother.”

Bull’s
gaze ricocheted back and forth from
Greg
to the sheriff. Finally, he
released the lawman, and smoothed out his filthy, wrinkled shirt. “Well, we’ll
just go see for ourselves. No hard feelin’s, Sheriff?”

The
man shook his head energetically to the point Bull thought his jowls created a
draft. He snapped his fingers at Lonnie and his man lowered the .32. He did
not, however, holster it until he and Bull were on the street. From the shadows
of the boardwalk, they watched Grace’s
brother
hurry into the Western
Union office.

Bull
scratched his chin. In the baggy clothes and big hat the kid wore, a
resemblance was difficult to nail. Yet, there
was
something familiar
about the boy. The way he’d moved, fists tight and held at his side.

Grace
did that same thing when she was nervous.

“Lonnie,
step back inside and ask our sheriff where this young man works.” Lonnie
started to move, but Bull put a hand on his chest. “And tell him we’ll be
needing the use of these fine mounts.” He motioned to the bay and roan, saddled
up in front of the Sheriff’s office.

Lonnie
nodded and headed back in to visit once more with the Sheriff of Misery.

Grace
loped across the empty hills, trying to outrun all these twisted emotions. Her
heart felt like a wagon load of barbed wire, a tangled mess of sharp, painful
edges.

There
wasn’t a horse in the world fast enough, so she slowed Dandy to a walk.

The
fury in Thad’s eyes when he’d realized the lie—she flinched merely recalling
it. He hated her and the realization left her bleeding. How could it hurt so
much?

And
then she’d had to send Raney’s telegram to Katie. Salt in the wound.

Angry
with herself for being so foolish, Grace tugged Dandy to a stop. Her throat
hurt from holding in a sob. If she could just see Hardy, she could bear all
this other turmoil, and walk away from it. But the
what ifs
rained down
on her like brimstone. What if Bull had found out about the telephone call? What
if he’d already shipped Hardy off to some boarding school in Europe? What if he
was on his way to kill her?

What
if Thad never spoke to her again?

Sniffling
and batting her lashes, she tried to hold back tears, but they spilled down her
cheeks. The infinite Wyoming expanse wavered like a mirage.

What
if she never saw her son again?

The
possibility terrified her. She hated Bull so much. She hated this inability to
get to her son. She hated carrying this burden alone.

“Oh,
God,” she whispered, desperate to reach Him, desperate to be heard. She considered
the boundless, wide horizon, and wondered if there really was a great Being
seated on a throne, Someone Who cared about her and her son. “Please, if You’re
there, please help me. I’ve made such a mess of things. I know I can’t have
Thad, but, please, if I can just get my son back . . .”

She
waited a few moments, but no great revelation warmed her soul, no angelic choir
filled the sky. Instead, the cold and lonely reality settled into her bones as
the wind numbed her ears.

Swallowing
the agonizing disappointment, and wondering what she had expected anyway, she
clutched the reins and moved to kick Dandy when motion about a mile off caught
her eye.

Men,
on horseback. Five of them, moving at a lope or canter. Not in a hurry, but not
dillydallying either. They rode with obvious intention, headed toward Buffalo,
maybe?

And she couldn’t have cared less.

A
steady snow had settled in, and a sharp wind was biting like a mountain lion by
the time Grace topped the last hill above Raney’s. Her fingers and toes were numb,
and her ears and nose were burning, but she was happy to see light glowing in
the windows and smoke chugging from the chimney. A hot cup of coffee never
sounded so good. Kicking Dandy up to a canter, she hurried on in.

Stripping
the horse down and readying her for a night in the stall seemed an interminable
task, but Grace finally closed the stall gate and jogged over to the house.

She
pushed the door open. “Raney, I’m back!” Grace stomped the snow off her boots
then stepped inside. “I’m surprised you beat me. Please say you’ve got some
coffee on the stove.” Grace started peeling out of her coat. “Raney?”

The
woman didn’t answer and Grace paused, the coat hanging on one arm. The house
was too quiet. And something
felt
 . . . wrong. A pot
clanged in the kitchen, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe Raney was
boiling water and simply hadn’t heard—