Chapter 15

Lacey could hear the parade of boots on the kitchen floor as she yanked on her own. She had been frying bacon and eggs all morning before running to her room to change.

She'd helped Tait deliver a calf yesterday, and she was anxious to visit the birthing stall to see the baby.

She bounded down the hall. The smell of fried grease mingled with the scent of hay and fresh cut grass, which clung to the men's sweat.

Amidst the male voices, Slade's caught her attention. "The new calf isn't going to make it. It won't take the teat."

"I figured as much," Tait replied before shoveling in a heaping forkful of fried potatoes.

"Let's tend her ourselves," Lacey blurted out as she entered the kitchen.

Slade looked up and stared at her for a moment, as if seeing her for the first time. It was an unsettling reaction he seemed to have quite often.

He sat with his injured leg stretched stiffly out to one side. Lacey had taken his word for it that her expert stitching had made for a neat scar. She was relieved it hadn't gotten infected. He seemed to be healing well. Though, he still favored it a bit.

"Lacey, none of us have time to play nursemaid to a scrawny orphan."

"I'll take care of it. I'm sure I can handle it."

Slade smiled and shook his head. "I don't think you realize the work involved, Lacey. The calf will need 'round the clock feeding."

"Of course it will. It's a baby, after all."

Dix and Beck jostled each other trying to snatch the lone rasher of bacon from the platter. With a frown, the older man tore it into unequal pieces, awarding himself the biggest one.

"Honestly, none of you men would ever have survived if a woman hadn't nursed you 'round the clock." Dora looked pointedly around the table at the gritty, ill-bred bunch as they inhaled the breakfast. "In fact, it seems as though we feed you 'round the clock even as grown men."

Slade sat back in his chair and gave Lacey a considering look. "If you think you can squeeze in caring for that calf between all the other chores you've taken on, go ahead. Give it a shot. Tait will show you what to do."

Tait, who was leaning over his plate, looked up with a piece of fatty bacon hanging from his mouth. "Huh?" He bit down hard on the gristly meat and ripped off the dangling end. "I don't have time to help her, Slade. I've too much else to do," he protested as bits of food sprayed from his full mouth.

Slade flicked a piece of the projectile food from his shoulder with obvious disgust. "Christ, Tait. Why don't you swallow your food, instead of decoratin' the whole damn kitchen with it? I didn't say you were going to help her. Just show her what to do."

"Oh, all right," Tait agreed reluctantly.

Lacey ran over and threw her arms around Tait's neck for a quick hug. "Thank you, thank you, Tait. You're a dearheart." She planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well." Tait blushed from his neck to his hairline.

Slade cleared his throat loudly. "Seems to me, I should've been on the receiving end of that thank you kiss..."

Lacey shrugged and headed toward the door.

"Aren't you going to eat something?" Dora called to her.

"No, I'm too excited to eat. I'll have a big supper."

She headed out and then stopped in the doorway, looking back at the table. "Oh, and Mr. Dalton?"

Slade turned his head to look at her. His pale blue eyes assessed her in their usual disconcerting manner. After a moment's hesitation, she worked up the nerve to blow him a sensual kiss. Too embarrassed to stay and witness his reaction, she hurried out into the blinding sunlight.

Turning back to his breakfast, Slade found all eyes on him and the room dead silent. He loosened his neckerchief, which seemed somehow to have grown too tight in the last few seconds.

"Well...that's more like it." He couldn't hold down the smile that formed on his lips as he lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth.

* * * *

Drained of energy, Lacey flopped atop her bed, too tired even to pull off her boots. She was sure she'd worn a path from the kitchen to the barn today. She doubted whether a human baby could be anymore demanding than this calf. As she dropped off to sleep, Lacey wondered how she would ever rouse herself to make the night feeding.

The room was pitch-black when she jerked awake, grateful for once, for Slade's late night pacing. She rubbed her eyes and swung her legs out of bed. Somehow, she managed to locate and light her lantern. She tiptoed down the hall, a useless gesture, because he was standing in his doorway, clad only in pants.

"Need some company?" He scratched his bare chest.

"No," she answered a little too sharply. That was all she would need—the temptation of his heated body next to hers in the cramped stall.

Slade gave a slight nod of his head in response. "You're going to freeze your fanny off in that garb. Stay put." He left the doorway for a moment and returned with his coat. "Take this."

Unable to think of a reason not to, she set her lantern down and put it on. The thing was so heavy; she felt her shoulders drop beneath the weight of it. Even so, she loved wearing it. She loved wearing anything that belonged to him.

"Thank you." The hem dragged the ground as she walked.

Slade had been right. Taking care of the ailing calf was a twenty-four hours a day commitment. Every night, Lacey would go through the same process. She'd walk across the dark deserted drive, her teeth chattering, despite Slade's heavy coat. Then she would return, to toss and turn in a bed littered with bits of scratchy straw. A couple of times, she had broken her routine and actually fallen asleep with the calf in the warm stall.

All that work and the calf did not seem to be flourishing. He was putting on very little weight, and Slade's expression was always a bit sad when he looked at the baby. Lacey was sure he thought her efforts a waste.

* * * *

It was the middle of the day, and Lacey could feel herself melting into a luxurious nap on the parlor sofa when Dora's voice jolted her out of it.

"Lacey, dear, there's a letter for you."

Lacey relaxed her head back against the cushion, deciding it was probably another note from Grady.

"Hate to disappoint you, but it's not Grady's writing."

"Truly?" Lacey responded. Then, feeling as if she'd sounded a little too glad, she added, "'Tis a shame."

Dora walked over to her with the envelope. "It seems to be from Boston."

Seeing the familiar writing, Lacey tore the envelope open. "My friends, the Cantwells, are coming for a visit. Apparently, they're on the east coast and are expecting to arrive in Colorado on the Kansas Pacific soon. Do you think it possible that they stay here?"

"Who?" Slade asked. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms at his chest.

"Some friends from England."

"Sure, they can stay. As long they know how to rope cattle and brand 'em."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course, they can stay." With the back of her hand, Dora flicked the brim of his Stetson, sending the hat flying. "How many times do I have to tell you not to wear that darn thing in the house?"

Slade scooped the hat up with the toe of his boot and popped it easily into his hands. "Any of your friends attractive?"

"Yes, Jasper is quite handsome."

"Oh would this be the same Jas who does not have an affinity for women?" His mouth quirked into a sarcastic smile.

"He's handsome, nonetheless," she answered flippantly.

She found herself wondering whether or not Jasper's sister Cassia, a petite blonde, would appeal to Slade. Because, without question, Slade would appeal to Cassia. But then, didn't any man who could walk upright, Lacey thought, shocked by her own cattiness.

* * * *

Lacey swiped at her denims, hoping to remove the calf's milky slobber but without much luck. She wondered if the calf had actually consumed any of the milk, since most of it seemed to have soaked into her pants. She shoved the barn door open only to run smack-dab into Jasper Cantwell.

"Goodness, Lacey, is that you? I'd give you a hug, sweetums—" he looked down at his black broadcloth finery. "—well, you understand."

"Jasper, I wasn't expecting you until much later. How did you get here?"

He pointed toward the house where a one-horse surrey stood. "Quaint, isn't it? I'll have you know it's costing me nearly four dollars a day. Cassia and I like to get a flavor for the places we visit."

"Where is Cassia?" She peered up into his face. It seemed like ages since she'd seen a clean-shaven male.

"Up at the house, talking to that cowboy fellow."

"Cassia always has made friends easily," Lacey said, barely able to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

With a little reluctance, he offered her his arm as they headed toward the house. She was suddenly perturbed. Strange how Slade Dalton could find the time to hang about the house today.

But it wasn't Slade ensconced cozily on the sofa with Cassia. It was a blushing, stuttering Tait.

Dora greeted her with a tight-lipped smile. "I see Mr. Cantwell found you, Lacey. Shall I fetch some coffee?"

"Yes, absolutely," Jasper responded, as he doffed his bowler and hooked it on the hat rack. "Only, could you make it tea, dear?"

It shouldn't have, but his high-handedness shocked Lacey. "Dora," she said sliding past her, "I'll put the pot on."

"Get yourself cleaned up, Lacey. I'll take care of it."

After a quick wash-up, Lacey put on the dress she'd made herself. Inspired by a gown she'd seen in England, she'd acquired a pattern. The sewing had occupied her during the long, boring voyage to the states.

She fastened the seemingly endless string of tiny jet buttons. As she twisted her hair into a bun, she glanced into the mirror and gasped aloud. The dress was extremely revealing. Although it was the fashion in Europe, Lacey didn't feel so fashionable. Actually, she felt close to naked. She tugged up hard on the bodice, but it didn't budge a bit.

She'd have to change. She heaved a sigh and began tackling the buttons again.

A knock on the door was followed by Jasper's lazy drawl, and Lacey knew it would be only moments before he walked right in. Hurriedly, she did her bodice up again. Plastering a smile on her face, she reached the door as the latch moved.

"Finally, it was getting a bit tedious watching Cassia corner her prey." He combed his fingers through his pomaded hair, his eyes sliding to her cleavage.

"Jasper, I've only been a moment."

"If you say so, sweetums." His eyes stayed riveted to her breasts. "I haven't seen so much of you, since you were a wisp of a thing."

"Jasper, please, you're embarrassing me." She looked at him curiously. Had she mistaken that affected behavior of his for something it wasn't? But hadn't he told her himself that he had no inclination for women. Maybe Dix was right. Perhaps, he had only pretended disinterest so she would disrobe in front of him.

Jasper had always been somewhat of a cad, a trait she used to think added to his charm. Today, she was finding it less than appealing.

* * * *

Lacey sat with the Cantwells at the kitchen table. She was desperately trying to think of a way to keep them entertained. Cassia was already making her little, cat-like yawns.

Hearing the shuffle of heels on the porch, Jasper parted the curtains to peer outside.

"Well, well. Here's the chap you've been panting for ever since we passed him on the road, Cassia." He favored Tait with a sympathetic smile, "Don't take it hard. My sister's a fickle one."

Lacey knew, without looking, exactly whom Jasper was referring to. She quickly maneuvered the teapot in front of her and slumped a bit in her seat, hoping to hide her low-cut neckline. Cassia, who only moments ago had made no effort to stifle a bored sigh, did exactly the opposite. She thrust forward her pert breasts as Slade stepped into the kitchen. Lacey smiled to herself, as Tait, thrilled to be forgotten, made a fast dash to the door.

Slade's eyes skimmed the table, and he nodded a curt hello before heading to the stove. He touched the coffee kettle and frowned. She heard him mutter a curse under his breath as he poured himself a cold cup of coffee. Clearly, Dora had been too busy waiting on the Cantwells to make him a fresh pot.

Slade placed his mug on the table and moved behind her chair. Lacey heard the familiar metallic clink as Slade went through the ritual of hanging his weaponry on the wall hook.

She prayed he wouldn't look down at her. From that angle, he could probably see down the front of her dress, straight to her toes. Useless prayer. She could already feel the heat of his stare.

He leaned far over her shoulder, his hair falling and skimming her half-naked breasts. "Cold, darlin'?"

"No," she answered in a near whisper, her lips trembling.

"Then why the goose bumps?"

She turned her head and found herself staring into icy-blue eyes. "Mr. Dalton," she said tersely, "these are my friends, Jasper and Cassia Cantwell."

Finally, pulling his eyes from her, he straightened and gave her visitors another indifferent nod.

He dropped into the seat beside her, the chair creaking under his weight. She looked from Jasper, sleek-haired and perfumed, to Slade, sweat-stained and unshaven, with hair that brushed his shoulders.

"Charming little homestead you have here, Dalton."

"You've known Lacey for a long time?" Slade asked without acknowledging the dubious compliment.

"Forever," Jasper answered with a grin. "It's been dreadfully boring without her in London. The worst of it is, I've only myself to blame."

Jasper turned to Lacey. "Though, it still amazes me to think you took me up on my last dare. I mean really, sweetums, you should have thought twice about that one." He gave her a sideways glance. There was a sly quality to it.

Slade shifted forward on his seat, interested for the first time in something Jasper was saying.

Probably without realizing he was doing it, Jasper leaned back a bit. "I suggested she might want to give the gaming hall a look see. I did not truly think she would." His green eyes slid back to her. "You're a very naughty girl, Lacey."

Slade's fingers took up a not so subtle drumming on the table. Lacey wished Jasper would hold his tongue.

"Her father devised the most unjust punishment, he betrothed her to Arthur Widstaff." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Clip that man's horns, and he grows another set, uglier and more twisted than the last. The creature's insatiable, if you get my meaning." He directed this cryptic comment to Slade. Who, Lacey could tell by the angry set of his mouth, understood it too well.

"You probably have no idea, how often I met with your father to dissuade him from that preposterous marriage. He cast a blind eye on Widstaff's faults. I even offered myself up as marriage material on countless occasions. He wouldn't hear of it."

"You did that for me, Jasper?" Lacey felt a sudden softening for her friend.

"Yeah, a real sacrifice," Slade said dryly. "You want to lift your gaze, Cantwell."

He was definitely not asking, Lacey thought.

"Beg your pardon?"

Slade's fist clenched, and he leaned across the table. "Let your eyes stray again, and you'll be talking out of the other side of your mouth."

Following suit, Jasper's bejeweled fingers curled menacingly. "As if you haven't gotten an eyeful, yourself," he snorted.

Slade lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug, giving the impression that he had, and it was perfectly within his right to have done so. She should have been furious with Slade, but a thrill ran up her spine at his thoroughly masculine response to her appearance.

"I wonder, that you're not worried what your brother might think of your proprietary attitude toward his future bride."

"Never occurred to me to worry about my brother, at all."

Not so discreetly, Lacey scooted her chair back managing to make the gunbelt jangle against the wall. Jasper did not seem to get the message. She would have to take another approach.

"Until very recently, Mr. Dalton was a bounty hunter," she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"A bounty hunter. Doesn't that sound dangerous," Cassia said, a delicately feminine shiver shaking her frame.

"Give it up, Cassia. The man seems to have a weak spot, and you're not it."

"Jasper, you are so tiresome."

Slade, seemingly oblivious to the quarrelling Cantwells, leaned back in his chair and stared long and hard at Lacey. "You find that profession repugnant?"

Lacey blinked a few times like a fearful deer. She was unable to process his anger quickly enough to arrive at a diplomatic answer. Instead, she nodded yes.

He took a swallow of coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. When he set the cup down, she didn't think the sulky way his lips were set could be attributed to the cold, bitter coffee.

"You've killed men...for money."

She could see the muscle in his jaw working in anger.

"Only when it was necessary. I doubt you'll believe this, but I preferred bringing them in alive."

She had actually hoped he would deny having killed anyone. She constantly needed to remind herself that Slade Dalton had a stone-cold heart, and any woman that fell for a man like that was an utter fool.

"It would be a challenge for most women to be with a man who makes his living in such a dangerous fashion," Cassia piped up. The sly curl of her lips said she was more than up to the challenge.

He offered Cassia a half-hearted smile. "If a man didn't have another way of making a living, could a wife—a woman find a way to accept it, you think?"

The question seemed a response to Cassia's remark, but after asking it, Slade leaned back in his chair and stared at her. He was waiting for her answer. This seemed to be some sort of test, and she felt as though she were failing it miserably.

"Certainly, he could do something else. Like...ranching, for instance," Lacey offered.

He planted his arms on the table and hunched forward. Near enough so that she could feel the heat that he radiated. "And what if he was struggling, and barely able to keep his head above water. What then?"

The conversation was taking a far too serious turn. She could hear Jasper shifting on his chair.

"Then, I suppose if—" she dropped her gaze certain her love for him would be completely readable. "—if she truly loved him, she could accept bounty hunting."

"I guess that goes to show that a woman should always marry for love."

Lacey lifted her eyes. Her gaze collided with his. "Unless, a woman didn't have the luxury of waiting for love."

Jasper cleared his throat loudly. "I hate to interrupt this charming little tête-à-tête. But I think we'll take our leave." Jasper stood up, tossing his napkin atop the table. "There's an inn in town. The food's barely palatable, but they serve a decent drink. We did count on you joining us, Lacey?"

Lacey rose from the table. She could feel Slade's intense gaze on her. "I'll be only a moment. Let me just fetch my shawl."

"Cassia and I will wait outside for you then, sweetums."

As she headed to her room, she heard Slade ask, "What did you really come here for, Cantwell?"

"Isn't it obvious? We were hoping Lacey would come to her senses and return to England with us."

It's certainly too late for that now, Lacey thought. Her father would never accept her back. She had no real home there anymore. Besides, England was so dreadfully far from Colorado.