LaceysWay (22 page)

A minute passed. Two. No one came to the door.

Lacey knocked again, louder this time. Still no answer.

She knocked a third time, hammering on the door with her
fist. “Susanne? I know you’re in there. Please let me in. I’m a friend of
J.J.’s.”

Another minute passed, and Lacey was about to give up and go
home when the door opened the merest fraction and a pair of dark green eyes
peered out at her.

“Susanne?” Lacey asked. “My name is Lacey Walker, and I work
for your brother.”

“What do you want?” Susanne’s voice was soft and raspy, as
though she rarely spoke aloud.

What did she want?
Lacey mused to herself. “I…I don’t
know anyone in town and I thought we might be friends.”

“No, thank you,” Susanne replied, her voice impersonal and
polite as though she were refusing a biscuit at dinner.

“Susanne, wait, please.”

“Goodbye,” Susanne said, and closed the door.

Lacey refused to be discouraged. Befriending Susanne had
become a goal, a mountain to be climbed, an obstacle to be overcome, and she
was determined not to give up. Besides, it gave her something to do. Nights, she
worked in the saloon with Matt. Days, they made love, or shopped, or tidied up
their hotel room. Sometimes Matt went to the saloon during the afternoon to
pass a few hours and gamble with his own money. It was during those times that
Lacey made her way to J.J. Tucker’s house.

Susanne always opened the door, but she never invited Lacey
inside, and she rarely spoke to her for more than a minute or two. Still, Lacey
thought she was making progress.

She had visited Susanne four times in two weeks and was again
standing on the front porch the day Susanne opened the front door and invited
her into the house.

Pleased and flustered at this unexpected turn of events,
Lacey stepped into the hall. It was a lovely house. The floors were hardwood,
polished to a high shine. The walls were covered with pale blue paper. The
furniture was of fine mahogany upholstered in a deep blue damask woven with a
delicate gold thread. Paintings and mirrors hung from the walls, suspended by
silken cords.

Susanne led the way into the parlor. “Please be seated,” she
invited. She took a place on the sofa and indicated Lacey should sit beside
her. “You are the first guest I’ve received in over a year,” she mused.

Lacey smiled, uncertain of what to say.

“May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, I’d like that.”

Lacey tried not to stare at Susanne, but the woman was quite
lovely. Her skin was very pale, her eyes large and emerald green. Her hair was
the same shade of brown as Tucker’s and she wore it tied in a severe knot at
the nape of her neck. Her face was heart-shaped and delicate, the nose and
mouth finely sculpted, her eyebrows and lashes very dark against the
translucent skin. Her hands were small and dainty, graceful as she poured tea
into two china cups. Her dress, high-necked and long-sleeved, was of black
silk.

“So,” Susanne said in that soft raspy voice, “tell me about
yourself.”

“I hardly know where to begin,” Lacey said, and for the next
hour she told Susanne of her childhood, of her father’s reaction to her
mother’s death, of how she had saved Matt’s life and fallen deeply in love with
him. She did not mention that Matt’s real last name was Drago, or that he had
been in town before.

Susanne’s green eyes were sad when Lacey finished her story.
“I was in love like that once,” she said wistfully. “Perhaps J.J. told you.”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I tried to imagine what my life would be
like without Matt, and that’s why I came here. To tell you that you can’t just
give up. Life is too precious, too fleeting, to be wasted.”

Susanne shrugged slightly, her eyes growing moist with
unshed tears. “I know that what you say is true, and I’ve told myself the same
thing many, many times, but I just can’t face the world without him.” Susanne
stood up, small and wraithlike in the severe black dress. “I’m a little weary
now, Lacey. Thank you for coming. I enjoyed our talk.”

Lacey stood up. Impulsively she placed her hand on Susanne’s
arm and gave it a squeeze. “Please don’t stay shut up in this house any longer,
Susanne. It’s such a waste. You’re a lovely woman. I’m sure you have much to
give to others.”

Slowly Susanne shook her head. “I have nothing left inside,”
she answered sadly. “Billy took everything with him when he died.” She placed
her hand over Lacey’s. “Please don’t come here again. It’s too painful.”

“I’m sorry, Susanne,” Lacey said sincerely. “I didn’t mean
to make you unhappy. I hope you’ll think of me as a friend. And if there’s ever
anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“Thank you, Lacey,” Susanne murmured. “Goodbye.”

At home that night, secure in the warm circle of Matt’s
arms, Lacey told him of her latest encounter with J.J. Tucker’s sister.

“She sounds a little loony to me,” Matt remarked.

“She’s not! She’s just sad and lonely. I wish there was
something I could do to help her, something I could say to bring her out of
herself.”

“You tried,” Matt said, his fingers running lightly over
Lacey’s arm and shoulder. “You’re the only one she’s let into that house in
over a year. I’d call that something.”

“I guess.” Lacey gazed into Matt’s dark blue eyes and felt a
wave of tenderness engulf her. And suddenly she needed him, needed to feel his
strength, to bask in his love, to know that he was hers, that he would always
be hers. “Love me, Matt,” she whispered. “Love me and don’t ever stop.”

He seemed to know what she was feeling. He made love to her
tenderly, telling her with each kiss and caress that he loved her, would always
love her.

Chapter Thirteen

“So,” J.J. Tucker said, nodding, “you let her in.”

“Yes,” Susanne replied. “She’s very nice, J.J.”

Tucker nodded again. Nice was not the word he would have
used to describe Lacey Walker. Beautiful, alluring, provocative, desirable.
Those were the words that came to mind when he thought of her, and lately he
thought of little else.

“They’re very much in love,” Susanne remarked. “I see them
sometimes, strolling by the house. I’ve seen the way Lacey’s husband looks at
her, the same way my Billy looks at me.”

Tucker shook his head irritably. “Billy is dead, Susanne.
It’s time you got on with your own life.”

“Don’t say that!” Susanne shrieked. “Don’t say that word.
Don’t ever say it!”

“I’m sorry,” Tucker said quickly. “Forgive me.”

He cursed under his breath as tears spilled down his
sister’s cheeks and great, racking sobs shook her body. It wasn’t natural for a
woman to grieve over a beau for so long. Why couldn’t Susanne accept the fact
that Billy was dead and get on with her life? How long was she going to hide
inside the house, refusing to see people, refusing to face reality? Guilt
gnawed at J.J.’s soul. If only he’d been more patient. If only he hadn’t lost
his temper…

Tenderly J.J. took Susanne in his arms and patted her back.
Susanne was the only person in the world he had ever cared about, the only
decent thing in his life, and he had almost destroyed her.

He held her until she was calm, then helped her up the
stairs to her room. He turned his back while she got ready for bed, then sat
beside her, holding her hand until she fell asleep.

There was a lively crowd in the Black Horse Saloon when J.J.
arrived, and he smiled, pleased. He would rake in a bundle tonight, he mused.
His eyes drifted around the room. Matt was dealing poker to four men at a table
in the back of the room. A heavy blue-gray smoke haze hung over the table; mere
was a large pile of currency in the pot. Again, Tucker felt a sense of wonder
as he watched Matt shuffle the deck. The man was amazing, truly amazing. His
fingers were nimble and quick as he dealt the cards.

Tucker watched Lacey approach her husband’s table carrying a
bottle of whiskey and four glasses. He had bought a new dress for her to wear,
and she looked ravishing. The dress was black satin, low-cut, tight at the
waist and flaring over her hips. J.J. Tucker felt a hard knot of jealousy form
in the pit of his stomach as Lacey bent and placed a quick kiss on her
husband’s cheek.

Matt happened to glance up just then and his gaze met
Tucker’s. There was no mistaking the jealousy lurking in J.J. Tucker’s eyes, no
doubt that Tucker found Lacey desirable. Matt’s face went hard and his eyes
flashed a warning that was not lost on Tucker. With a shrug and a tight little
smile, the saloon owner went to the bar and poured himself a shot of bourbon.

Matt took a deep breath. Sooner or later there was going to
be trouble between himself and Tucker. He had seen the way J.J.’s eyes followed
Lacey. Often when they talked, J.J. found an excuse to touch her. Sometimes it
was just a brief pat on the back, sometimes he put his arm around her shoulders
and gave her an encouraging squeeze when she was having a rough night. Lacey
thought Tucker was just being friendly. But Matt knew better. J.J. had no
interest in being Lacey’s friend. He wanted her, wanted her in the way a man
wanted a woman.

It was after midnight when the crowd thinned out and the
saloon grew reasonably quiet. Lacey was sitting beside Mort, the piano player,
chatting amiably while he played a melancholy ballad. Matt was relaxing at the
card table playing solitaire when three men entered the saloon. He felt a jolt
in the pit of his stomach as the men made their way to his table and sat down.
They were all there, the three men who had accused him of gunning down Billy
Henderson.

Matt felt his mouth go dry as he shuffled the cards.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” asked Toby Pitman.

Matt nodded warily. He remembered Pitman from the trial.
Pitman had been the most vocal of Matt’s accusers, his words of condemnation so
positive, so forceful, they had erased any doubt the jury might have had.

Pitman grunted. “You look familiar. Haven’t I seen you in
town before?”

“I doubt it,” Matt answered. He dealt the cards, his fingers
swift and sure.

Pitman grunted again. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Any particular reason?”

Matt shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”

Lige Tanner cleared his throat. “We always like to have a
friendly game, that’s all. My name’s Lige. This here
hombre
is Raoul
Gonzalez, and that’s Toby Pitman. We work for the Rocking W Ranch. Toby’s the
ramrod.”

Matt nodded. “My name’s Walker.”

They played the rest of the hand without talking much except
to raise or call. Tanner won the hand, and his grin spread from ear to ear as
he raked in the pot.

Matt studied the three men carefully during the next hour.
Toby Pitman was a heavy bettor, and a poor loser. His eyes were pale blue and
sharp in a hawk-like face. He had arms like trees and the biggest hands Matt
had ever seen. Lige Tanner was a young man with sandy-colored hair and brown
eyes. He was a poor player, for his eyes easily telegraphed whether his cards
were good or bad. Raoul Gonzalez rarely spoke. He was a conservative player,
not easily bluffed out of a hand, but not given to take chances, either.

Matt caught Pitman staring at him time and again, his eyes
thoughtful, and Matt knew that Toby Pitman was trying to recall where he’d seen
the gambler before.

They played until one o’clock, and then, at a word from
Pitman, the three men left the saloon.

Matt let out a long sigh as he watched the three cowhands
leave the building. It wouldn’t be long before Pitman remembered where he’d
seen Matt, and then all hell would likely break loose.

“You look troubled,” Lacey remarked, coming up behind Matt
and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Is anything wrong?”

“Time’s running out,” Matt remarked. “I’ve got to find out
who killed Billy Henderson before Toby Pitman remembers where we’ve met.” He
shuffled the cards, and each time the ace of spades appeared on top. But he
wasn’t thinking about cards. He was thinking about the night young Billy
Henderson had been killed, trying to recall exactly what had happened. He
stared at the painting on the wall behind the bar. He had been sitting at the
last table in the back of the room that night, alone. Pitman, Gonzalez, and
Tanner had been standing at the far end of the bar with Billy Henderson. They’d
all been drinking heavily and they got louder and more obnoxious with each
drink. The bartender had asked them to hold it down, but they had just laughed
and told him to mind his own business. Matt recalled that Henderson had started
bragging about how good he was with a gun…

“Matt, let’s go home.”

“Right.” Dropping the cards on the table, Matt picked up his
hat and coat and they left the saloon.

“My feet are killing me,” Lacey said as they walked down the
boardwalk toward the hotel.

“Why don’t you quit that damn job?” Matt asked gruffly. “I
hate seeing you in that damn saloon every night, watching men leer at you like
you were a piece of fresh meat for sale.”

“It’s not like that,” Lacey protested. “Most of them are
very respectful.”

“They may act respectful,” Matt retorted, “but they’re all
wishing they could haul you upstairs for a quick ten minutes in the sack.”

“Matt!”

“It’s true and you know it.”

Lacey stared at Matt, her mouth making a little moue of
surprise. She had known all along that Matt didn’t approve of her working in
the Black Horse Saloon, but he’d never been quite so angry about it before.

“What’s really bothering you?” Lacey asked.

Matt let out a long breath and some of the tension he had
been feeling all night drained out of him. “It’s Tucker. His eyes follow every
move you make.”

“J.J.? He’s never said or done anything out of line. Not
once.”

“He’s thinking it, though.” Matt came to an abrupt halt as
they neared the alley near their hotel. “Hush,” he whispered, and his voice was
low and urgent.

“What is it?” Lacey whispered back.

“I think we’re being followed. You go across the street and
keep walking toward the hotel.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t have time to explain now. Just do what I said.”

He gave her a little push, and then, in a loud angry voice,
he said, “You little tramp! If I catch you flirting again, I’ll take my belt to
your backside.”

He started walking again, then ducked into the alley, his
head cocked to one side as he listened for some sound to indicate he was still
being followed.

A dark silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alley, paused
a moment, and then started walking again. On catlike feet, Matt stepped up
behind the man and pressed his gun into his back. “You lookin’ for me?” he
asked in a silky voice.

Lige Tanner shook his head vigorously. “No. I was just going
home.”

“Really? When did the Rocking W take up residence in town?”

Lige Tanner swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to the ranch. I
was going to see my Ma. She lives over at the Adamses’ Boardinghouse.”

“Kind of late to be visiting, isn’t it?”

“She’s…she’s been sick. I been staying with her the last
couple of days.”

“You’re lying,” Matt said quietly. “Why are you following
me?”

“Pitman told me to. He told me to check the hotel register
and see what name you’d used. He thinks he’s seen you before and it bothers him
that he can’t remember where.”

“Why doesn’t he do his own bird doggin’?”

Tanner shrugged. “I dunno. He’s my boss and I do what he
says. He don’t like questions.”

“You were in the saloon the night Billy Henderson was
killed,” Matt said, jabbing his gun barrel a little deeper into Tanner’s back.
“What happened?”

“A stranger gunned Billy down in cold blood.”

“Just like that? Gunned him down for no reason?”

“He was drunk. The stranger, I mean. It might have been an
accident, I don’t know.”

“Move it,” Matt said curtly. “Head back the way you came,
and don’t look back.”

Tanner nodded, his mouth gone dry and his palms suddenly
wet. Hands clenched at his sides, he retraced his steps, wondering if he was
about to get a bullet in the back.

Matt stayed where he was, his eyes on Lige Tanner as the
young man moved away from him. When Tanner reached the saloon, a dark figure
fell into step beside him.

Matt frowned as he recognized J.J. Tucker. He didn’t leave
the cover of the alley until both men were out of sight.

Lacey was waiting for him in the hotel lobby, her face pale.
“Is everything all right?” she asked anxiously.

“Yeah. Let’s go to bed. I’m beat.”

In their room, Matt touched a match to the lamp, then sat on
the edge of the bed watching Lacey undress. She moved with a feminine grace
that was sheer delight to watch, and he smiled faintly, knowing she was being
deliberately provocative in an attempt to take his mind off their troubles. And
it was working. Matt’s throat went dry as she slipped out of her dress, then
slid her undergarments off, slowly, enticingly, until she stood before him clad
in black net stockings and garter belt. He felt his heart begin to pound as she
unfastened her stockings and slid them over her legs, removed the garter belt,
and then slid into bed, patting the place beside her in silent invitation.

“Hussy,” Matt growled, and quickly shedding his own clothes,
he slid into bed beside her.

Her skin was soft and warm, her lips eager and willing. His
hands moved in the wealth of her hair, loving the way the long silky strands
curled around his fingers as though they had a life of their own. He slid his
hands over her back and shoulders, traced the outline of her hips and softly
rounded fanny. She was here and she was his and for a few brief moments he
forgot everything but the wonder of her touch and the joy of possessing her.

It was only later, when Lacey was sleeping peacefully beside
him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest, her legs
tangled with his, that Matt’s thoughts again grew troubled. He had been a fool
to bring Lacey back to Salt Creek. If he couldn’t clear his name, he would
likely wind up dead or in jail. In either case, Lacey would be left alone and
J.J. Tucker would close in on her like a wolf on the scent of fresh blood.
Tucker. There was no doubt that the man wanted Lacey. Damn him.

Matt gazed into the darkness. Lige Tanner, Toby Pitman,
Raoul Gonzalez. Which one had killed Billy Henderson, and why? That’s what he
needed to know, and soon. Before Pitman put two and two together and remembered
where he’d seen Matt before. And what about Tucker? Where did he fit into the
puzzle? Was it possible J.J. had killed Billy Henderson? But that was
ridiculous. What reason would he have had for killing Susanne’s boyfriend? What
reason could he have had for meeting Lige Tanner in a dark alley late at night?
Questions, nothing but questions and no answers.

Tanner, Pitman, and Gonzalez showed up at the Black Horse
every night for the next three nights. And every night they sat at Matt’s
table.

Trying to get on my nerves
, Matt mused grimly. And it
was working. Pitman watched his every move, his eyes wary, speculative, as he
tried to place where he’d seen Matt before.

For the hell of it, Matt dealt the cards so that Pitman lost
every hand. Tanner and Gonzalez kidded Toby about his bad luck until Pitman
slammed a meaty fist down on the table. Tanner’s drink sloshed over the side of
his glass and made a dark stain on the green baize top.