Chapter 23

Lacey breathed another sigh, this one louder than the last. Dora continued her painstakingly slow circle around the hem of her gown. Lacey was starting to feel as if the dress were suffocating her. She slid her finger around the high collar hoping to loosen it. She attempted to take a deep breath without any luck. Dora looked up, her mouth full of pins, and shook her head at Lacey's fidgeting.

"Dora, this is far too much work for you. Let me buy shoes with a bit more heel."

"Child." Although the pins were clamped tight between her lips, Dora managed not only to speak out of the corner of her mouth, but, also, to make her frustration plain. "Having seen your fine wardrobe, I know you've gone through this plenty. Can't you show a tad more patience?"

"Yes, of course," Lacey muttered. Standing stiffly, she imagined herself porcelain and cold and empty-headed like a doll. She envisioned Grady kissing her cold, porcelain cheek. Today, the moment Grady arrived home, she would break off the engagement.

The door opened causing Lacey to twist around, which elicited a disgusted snort from Dora. Slade stopped on the threshold and stared at her, seemingly unaware that the door had blown wide and was repeatedly cracking against the wall with each gust of cold air.

"Slade! You're letting the leaves in," Dora admonished. She made a little groan as she got to her feet. She rubbed her neck. "I need to fetch my spectacles. This is all starting to look a blur. Stand tight, Lacey. And Slade, will you shut that already!"

He ignored the door as he stalked toward Lacey.

The doll image was completely obliterated. Beneath his heated glare, she was all too human. She could feel the blood pulsing through her veins, thundering in her ears. She fidgeted again with the stiff collar.

"Woman, you just left my bed. And now you're parading around in this? What are you playing at?"

"You know how insistent Dora can be." She truly was a coward, not telling Dora the truth. She had all intentions of calling the marriage off. Lacey had discovered one definite thing about herself, she was not the kind of woman who could commit her heart to one man and marry another. She was steeling herself for the coming confrontation with Grady. Besides, Slade had no right to put any pressure on her. He'd offered her nothing. Nothing but a shared bed and a marriage without mention of love.

Dora strode back into the room and swept some of the leaves out with the sole of her shoe before shutting the door sharply.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Dora, but Lacey's had a change of heart."

Lacey was too shocked to say anything.

"Slade, can't you see we're finishin' the dress? You need to get it through your thick skull, there's going to be a wedding. Lacey's promised herself to Grady. Now I know you're fond of her. We all are. And we're all going to miss her when she moves to Boston. She and Grady."

"'S that right, Lacey? Are you still promised to Grady?" His voice sounded raw.

It was time to admit to the truth. Lacey took a deep breath. "Well, actually, Dora—"

"My brother and my bride together...again. You have no idea, how this puts my mind at ease. I was so worried that you two wouldn't be friendly," Grady said in his most supercilious tone, as he entered from the kitchen. He stroked his mustache as he studied Lacey, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Or was it anger?

Lacey dreaded to think he'd overheard the entire conversation.

He turned his gaze on his brother. "I think you might want to prepare yourself for a guest, Slade." A rather pleased smile tipped the corners of his lips. "Stevenson, at the livery stables, told me there was a man looking for you. Said he fit the description you'd given him. Ugly son-of-a-bitch, according to Stevenson. Said he had a scar 'round his neck that resembled a noose's mark. A friend of yours, I wager."

"Wouldn't happen to know whether his name was Purdy?"

"Sounds as good as any." Grady shrugged. "Stevenson had the sense not to give him directions to the ranch, but, you can be sure, someone else will."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what time it was he spoke to Stevenson?"

Grady shrugged. "Around noon, I'd guess. That's when I arrived in town yesterday."

"Yesterday? My lord, Grady, why didn't you alert him sooner?"

Dora looked at Slade, her brow wrinkled with worry. "That's the brother of the man who killed your partner, isn't it?"

Slade acknowledged her question with a nod. He seemed completely undisturbed. As though the news hadn't come as a surprise. "Dora, Lacey, get up to the attic."

"Don't worry about Tait. He's pounding posts in the south field with the others," Slade said anticipating Dora's next question.

Lacey took a stumbling step off the table and caught her foot in the hem of her dress. There was a loud ripping sound. She bunched the skirt up in her hands and hurried over to Grady. She placed her hands on his arms and looked him straight in the eye. "You are going to help your brother, aren't you? Certainly, two men have a better chance than one."

"Hell no, I'm not helping him. He brought this trouble here. Let him take care of it." He addressed Slade over the top of her head. "What's that Pa always said to us?"

"A man fixes his own problems," Slade recited without emotion. He rebuckled his belt so it hung lower on his hips and tested his reach.

"Exactly," Grady said looking more than satisfied with himself. Lacey stared at Grady intently. There really was nothing beneath the arrogant veneer but a cold, empty heart. She could never marry a man like this. He was Widstaff without the horsewhip.

"Dix, then," Lacey said, grabbing up her skirt again and hurrying toward the door. She could get a horse and hurry out to the fields.

Slade moved to bar her exit just as the window imploded. The bullet ricocheted off the wall. "Drop!" he yelled and tackled Lacey hard to the ground. She could feel his heart pounding against her back. "Everyone all right?"

"Y-yes," Dora stammered.

"You bastard, you brought this home with you." Grady's voice shook with anger. "Get off her, before I drag you off."

Slade did not shift his weight. He whispered harshly in her ear. "Stay low and get yourself up to the attic. Now. Take Dora with you."

With wobbly legs, Lacey climbed up to the attic room, snagging her dress on the wooden ladder. She hoisted herself through the hole in the ceiling and lent a hand to help pull Dora up.

She'd envisioned a room with a low ceiling, one where Slade could at least walk around if he stooped. Lacey found that even in a crawling position, the rafters barely cleared her head. How, she marveled, had he been able to bear sleeping up here?

The smell of his tobacco lingered. How would she ever survive, if he were to die?

Dora sat in a corner, tucking her feet beneath her skirt. Suddenly, she looked very small and fragile. "Lacey, honey, you don't want to watch," she warned as Lacey approached the oval pane set in the wall. But she did. It seemed both his fate and hers would be decided today.

She scrutinized the drive through the wavy glass and could see nothing until she pressed her cheek against the cold pane. Near the shed, lurking in the shadows, hulked a man. She could make out the man's floppy hat, his sloping shoulders, and a black bandanna tied around his arm. The thing that took her breath away was the rifle he held at his side.

Lacey found she didn't have the stomach to watch, after all. She slumped down and covered her ears hard with her hands, hoping to shut out the sound of gunfire. But she heard it. With each shot, she felt as if her heart would stop.

* * * *

The silence was almost worse than the gunfire. It had been a good twenty minutes. Lacey couldn't stand waiting anymore.

Ignoring Dora's protests, she clambered down the ladder, doing even more damage to her dress. She raced through to the dogtrot and almost collided with a very alive Slade Dalton. He didn't acknowledge her. Yet she followed him like a loyal puppy as he picked up one of the oilcloth tarps.

She was right on his heels as he walked back outside. He turned suddenly, and she slammed into his hard body. She flung her arms around him. She could feel the tension in the muscles of his neck.

He peeled her hands from him. "Inside Lacey," he ordered. Feeling unwanted, she instantly complied.

Lacey sat in the parlor, staring into the empty hearth. It had been hours since the gunfight, and she hadn't seen Slade again. Suppertime had come and gone, and the stove remained cold. Dora had gone to her room looking dejected and somehow older.

Grady stalked into the room for the second time that evening. The first time he'd entered, she'd been so listless, Lacey found she could do nothing but sit and listen to his foul-mouthed tirade about his brother.

He flopped on the sofa across from her. "Are you going to sit in that damn dress all day?" he asked.

She shrugged.

The door cracked against the wall, and Tait stood in the doorway panting for breath. "The sheriff's here."

"Seems Talbot can move fast if he chooses." Grady stroked his mustache. He seemed to be finding it hard to suppress a smile.

"Ain't nothing for Slade to be worried about." Tait glared at Grady. "Blue saw the whole thing. The bastard drew first. He deserved what he got."

"Settle down, Tait. You're making a damn fool of yourself. Why don't we let the sheriff decide?"

"Sounds liked you'd be pleased to see Slade go to jail." Tait's face was red with fury. He turned to Lacey. He looked close to tears. "Where's Ma?"

"In her room. I'll get her," Lacey said, forcing herself to get off the sofa.

* * * *

Lacey had a white-knuckled grip on the railing as she watched Sheriff Talbot talk to Slade.

The sheriff turned and surveyed the crowd that had gathered.

"Sorry for the intrusion, Dora. I'll make this as quick as possible. So long as the boy cooperates." He gripped the crown of his hat and lifted it in a formal gesture.

"This ain't no opera," he said addressing the ranch hands who'd taken seats atop the corral fencing. "Rather not conduct this meeting in front of an audience. If you don't mind?"

Dora crossed her arms over her chest. "Sheriff Talbot, it's our right to stand on our porch or anywhere else we so choose." Dora had a cold edge to her voice that Lacey had never heard before. Of course, she must despise the man. After all, he'd left her a widow.

The sheriff seemed to have a hard time refuting Dora's statement and spluttered a few unintelligible things, finally saying in a grudging tone, "Fine. Fine. But I don't want any interference."

Removing a handkerchief from his vest pocket, he blotted the sweat on his forehead and neck. Studying Slade, all the while, with a ruthless intensity.

"Been busy, son. You've managed to stir up more trouble than a gang of outlaws. I trust, that son-of-a-gun—" the sheriff's head tilted in the direction of the wagon, "—didn't have a chance."

For the first time, Lacey noticed the bone-chilling lump beneath the oilcloth.

"Mind if I take a look at your firearm, son?" It was phrased like a question, but it certainly wasn't one.

Slade lifted it from the holster and slapped the weapon into the sheriff's open palm. "Can't understand why you'd want to inspect it. I've already admitted to shooting the man."

The sheriff took a whiff of the barrel, and his doughy lips pulled into a sour frown.

Lacey was watching the scene so intently, she jumped when Grady began whispering in her ear. "It's all over for him today. Even if the sheriff doesn't haul him in there's nothing left for him here."

Lacey stiffened at the ominous words. "What do you mean?"

He stood so close she could feel his breath. "It'll all play out soon enough. And you'd better be on the right side when it does, Lacey my sweet. He'll be leaving empty handed, understand? Unless, of course, you want to see him go to jail? All I need to do is let it slip that the man hadn't even pulled a weapon."

"That's a lie. He shot out the window."

His soft chuckle ruffled her hair. "I don't remember how the whole thing happened, exactly. All I know is that the sheriff will take my word over anyone else's here." He leaned in closer. She could feel him against her back. "Talbot owes me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Who do you think told the sheriff that Slade was in his bed?"

She whipped around to face him. "My God."

"He deserved it. Stealing another man's woman like that." His eyes narrowed in accusation. "Seems like Slade's still at his old game."

"I have no intentions of marrying you now, Grady Dalton." His cold fingers pressed against her trembling lips.

"The only thing I regret, was telling Pa," he continued, as though she hadn't said a word. "I should have known he'd try to bail Slade out of trouble. Slade could do no wrong as far as he was concerned."

She was stunned. "Then you're the one who sent your father to his death."

"Hell no. Pa wasn't the one who was supposed to suffer. Now Slade's finally getting his turn." Grady skimmed a finger along her jawline. She shuddered with loathing. "So you see, you will be marrying me, Lacey. If not, I'll see to it that Slade is put behind bars for this killing."

"You're going to blackmail me into marrying you? Why would you even want me for a wife?"

"It comes in handy, for a businessman to have a pretty, little wife to charm his associates. Now there is an added benefit—if you're married to me, Slade will never see you again."

Feeling nearly faint, Lacey turned from him. She couldn't hold back the tears as she watched Slade. Thankfully, he was unaware of the ugly conversation she'd had with his brother.

Slade fished a cheroot out of his pocket and lit it with practiced ease. He looked the picture of indifference.

The sheriff checked the chambers before giving Slade back the gun. "You said you knew the man."

Slade gave a bored nod in response to the sheriff's question, and the sheriff's complexion took on a mottled appearance.

"Mind sharing his name with me?"

"Jared Purdy. He should have been dead a long time ago." Slade took a slow drag on his cheroot.

"Does look like the man escaped a necktie party," the sheriff admitted.

"Not sure how he weaseled out of that hanging. He was in the custody of capable lawmen."

"Perhaps, son—" he hesitated and then turned his face and spat out a wad of tobacco. He swiped at the dark dribble on his chin, "—he was innocent."

"Right. Want to tell that to the orphans he left behind in New Mexico? Sloppiest hold-up man I've ever run across. Never could rob a bank without leaving a trail of victims."

"Dix," Grady ordered. He'd moved away and was now leaning back against the wall of the house watching the whole event with a jaundiced eye. "Soon as the sheriff's done with his questions, get permission to haul the body to town. He's staining my wagon with his blood."

Dix looked far from pleased to have Grady barking orders at him.

"New Mexico you say?" the sheriff asked with a nod. "We'll see if Purdy was who you say he was. I won't take you in today, but stay in town. I ain't going to be pleased, if I have to drag you back."

* * * *

Lacey, light-headed and numb with despair, used the walls for support afraid that her shaky legs would give out. She cringed, as she heard Grady impatiently beckon her again.

She had a horrible premonition when she saw the two Dalton brothers at the kitchen table. She'd never seen Grady and Slade sitting alone together.

Slade was skimming over a stack of official papers. He didn't even glance up at her. His face was drawn, his skin pale beneath his tan. He looked liked someone had pounded the wind out of him.

"Slade, when will you ever learn? You can't just help yourself to anything you want."

Grady snatched her hand and placed it on his shoulder. She had no choice but to stand there pretending a connection with him. The threat he'd made was still fresh in her mind.

"Couldn't have done it without Lacey, here." He gave her hand a patronizing pat. "Remember, Lacey? You delivered those papers to Curry Foster for me on your way to town." She felt herself sway. She'd actually been an unwitting accomplice in Slade's destruction. The papers. That's why Grady had gotten her on the boat so quickly. Not because he wanted Dora to witness the wedding, but because he wanted to lay claim to his brother's land.

"If it hadn't been for her help, I wouldn't have filed my petition in time. I intend to unload this dirt farm as soon as possible."

"What about Dora and Tait?" Lacey asked, her voice cracking in anguish.

"Don't you worry your sweet little self," Grady said, giving her hand another condescending pat. "I'll make sure Dora and Tait are looked after."

Slade pushed the papers across the table toward his brother and stood up. He looked up at her. His pained gaze searched her face. "You coming, Lacey?"

Grady jolted out of his chair, banging it against the wall. Lacey backed up a step.

"Lacey's not going anywhere." A vein pulsed in his forehead.

"Lacey?" Slade said, ignoring his brother's outrage.

She was amazed to find Slade still wanted her. Even after she'd helped Grady take the Lazy Heart from him.

Lacey imagined those beautiful blue eyes peering at her through the bars of a jail. "I don't understand what you're asking."

Grady hauled her against his side.

Slade's eyes narrowed ruthlessly. "I see how it is," he said with a knowing, altogether nasty laugh. "Nice work, Duchess, I didn't even see it coming. Pretty clean entry wound. Stabbed in the back and not even a trace of blood."

Lacey couldn't help noticing the stiff set of his shoulders as he left the room.

She struggled to get out of Grady's hold, and he hissed at her through gritted teeth. "Don't suppose you've ever paid a visit to our local jail? The men sleep on lice-ridden blankets on the floor."

"I wish I'd never met you."

"I can't say the same. You've succeeded in doing what I could never do on my own. You've broken him. I took a gamble that he would find losing you, far harder than going to jail. That's why I didn't speak up to Talbot—yet. Nothing, not even forfeiting the Lazy Heart, could make him react like that. Christ, did you see his face when you refused his invitation to leave with him? I almost felt pity."

She heard Slade's boot heels on the wooden floor, and Grady pinned her to his side again. She felt the color drain from her face. When Grady forced her chin around and covered her mouth with his, tears pricked her eyes.

"She likes it best if you nibble her bottom lip first," Slade drawled.

Grady pulled away so fast, Lacey grabbed the table to steady herself. She watched in horror as Grady threw himself at Slade, sending them both sprawling into the dogtrot.

They rolled across the floor, a mass of battering fists. They overturned a coat rack, shattering a window.

"Damn fools, you're ruining Dora's house." Dix, with Blue's help, managed to pry them apart.

Slade struggled to his feet and dragged the back of his hand over the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. He snatched up his leather satchel and disappeared out the door, but not before shooting Lacey a look of white-hot anger.

* * * *

"Come to watch a cowboy's final humiliation—leaving on foot. Sorry to disappoint you, but I brought the horse with me." Slade's drawling, sarcastic comment was directed at Grady.

Everyone had gathered to watch his departure except for Tait who'd stormed off, unwilling to say goodbye to his brother. Lacey was only there by force. Grady still held her wrist in an iron-grip.

Slade lifted himself into the saddle. Holding his arms out to the sides, he used his thighs to muscle the horse near to where she stood along the railing.

"You sure you picked the right Dalton, Lacey?" A cigarette clamped in the corner of his lips, he spoke out of the side of his mouth. His eyes were narrowed by the smoke and looked colder and meaner than she'd ever seen them. "Hell, I own this horse, these boots, and even got a few bucks besides." With his arms held aloft, he was making a parody of offering himself. How little he understood her, Lacey thought. If it hadn't been for Grady's blackmail, she'd be snug in that saddle behind him. She felt bloodless and empty. Grady's grip on her arm was probably the only thing that prevented her from crumpling to the ground.

"Not convinced?" Slade said with a harsh laugh and taking the cigarette from his mouth, he flicked it to the dirt. Taking up the reins, he acknowledged Dix with a touch of his hat. "Sorry I brought you back into this mess, Dix."

Dix, scrunching the brim of his hat in his hands, released a heaving sigh. "'Tain't nothing to be sorry about." Dix shook his head. "Damn, crying shame, after all your efforts—to lose this ranch." A wetness that looked suspiciously like tears glazed Dix's eyes.

"Come to find out, Dix, there are far worse things to lose." Again, Lacey was skewered by his piercing pale eyes.