Chapter 7

In the morning, Slade worked close to home, chopping wood. He anticipated visitors.

Slade heard the back door shut. He watched Lacey hop down the porch stairs with a basket on her arm. As usual she chose to completely ignore his instructions. He headed her off on her way to the henhouse.

"Didn't I tell you to stay put in the house today?"

"Dora needs eggs for baking," she replied, passing right by him.

He followed.

"I don't understand why the men are hanging around. Why aren't they working in the fields?" she asked.

He planted himself in front of her and bent low, until the brims of their hats collided. "Get your sweet stubborn self inside," he ordered. She pouted her lips at him, and without even a thought, he pressed his mouth to them.

Her big, beautiful eyes blinked at him. "The eggs can wait," she conceded, finally. She turned back to the house. The basket banged against her hip as she rushed away.

"Great," Slade muttered. It was a mere peck, but he was so hard for her, it would take forever to shake off the effects.

The sound of horses coming up the drive alerted him to Banyon's inevitable arrival.

Slade turned to find his accomplices clustering together. "Hell, you men might as well write guilty across your foreheads. Go get busy."

He squinted into the sunlight. The Banyons hadn't come alone. He rolled his eyes. They'd dragged the sheriff with them.

As they approached, Slade slung the axe over his shoulder and waited to greet them. "Anything I can do to help you, men?"

Banyon started to spew out curses. The sheriff held up a hand to halt his tirade.

"Were you or any of your men at the Banyon ranch last night?" Sheriff Talbot asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Slade noticed his men gathering behind him. "Don't know what you're talking about, Sheriff."

"Seems there were some thieves at their place last night."

"Thieves, huh? What'd they take?"

The sheriff looked pointedly at Banyon. "Well, Ned, what did they take?"

Banyon sputtered for a minute before saying anything that made sense. "Well, they didn't take nothin'. But they were trespassing."

The sheriff heaved a sigh and turned in his saddle to get a better look at Banyon. "What proof do you have they were there, if they didn't take anything?"

Slade was sure Banyon would be too humiliated to mention the manure mishap.

"Just know, that's all." Banyon looked ready to spit nails.

Slade shifted the axe down to his side. "I'd really love to chat with you all, but I've got things to do."

"I have to say, Ned, I don't really know why we're here. If nothing's been stolen, there ain't much I can do."

Banyon walked his horse up to Slade, stopping within inches of him. He glared down at him. "It was a dark day when you rode back into town, boy."

Banyon motioned with his head to his sons. They circled their horses menacingly, staring down each of Slade's men as they rode by.

As they passed Dix, he lifted his foot and inspected the sole of his boot. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Whooee! Blue, you smell something?"

Banyon's face purpled with rage. He kicked his horse into a run. Suddenly, he and his boys couldn't leave fast enough.

* * * *

Lacey was drawn to the glow of the campfire the men had started in front of their bunkhouse. Dora didn't allow alcohol in the house, so they laced their coffee with whiskey and sat around the fire on cooler spring nights.

Lacey watched as Dix poured himself a generous dose of liquor and suspected that in his case he was lacing his whiskey with coffee.

Normally, she wouldn't have joined the men, but today she spotted Slade Dalton with them. And Slade Dalton meant trouble. So naturally, she headed over to the campfire.

Thinking to be on the safe side, she decided to sit a distance from him. There happened to be an empty overturned crate. She found that if she swiveled just so on her seat, she could have an unobstructed view. A view that was well worth the walk over.

For a change, Slade wasn't wearing his black Stetson. The glow of the flames seemed to bounce off the golden highlights in his collar-length hair. The shadows of the warm fire outlined his strong jaw. Although she wasn't cold, Lacey hugged herself, trying to keep her emotions in check. She had to keep herself detached from this man or spend the rest of her life in misery.

When she realized he hadn't even noticed her, she suddenly felt ridiculous. In fact, none of the men seemed to pay any attention to her. She felt invisible and completely out of place.

As she glanced back at the house, thinking she should go back, Lacey felt something nudge her foot. Two big boots were gently pressing against her shoe. Her eyes followed the length of his long muscular legs, and now he was looking at her. The look in his eyes was hotter than the flames. His stare flustered her, and she looked away quickly. However, she left her feet exactly where they were. Nestled against his. So much for her resolve to stay detached.

Dix poked at the fire with a stick. "Blue, the whole idea's madder than a rabid coon. Them wild cattle are some of the meanest animals out there. They're harder to rope than a streak of lightning. And even harder to bring in. Besides that, you ever tasted one of them stringy mavericks? They make jerky taste moist."

"Actually, Blue's got an idea, there," Slade said. He pulled his legs in and sat forward, resting his arms on his thighs.

Lacey nearly felt the need to comfort herself. She was bereft at the loss of his feet touching hers.

"Hell with the hide off! You aren't really thinking of going on a round-up?" Dix asked as he loaded another shot into his coffee.

"Not unless you can come up with another way to get free cattle, Dix."

"Count me in," Tait said with his usual youthful enthusiasm. "I've been looking forward to my first round-up since I could throw a saddle on a horse."

Slade reached over and fondly ruffled his brother's hair.

"Dang, Slade," Tait groused.

"I'd like to go," Lacey said in a voice so low, she was sure no one could hear her.

But Slade had. "Your riding's coming along. But you'll have to sit this one out."

"I could cook for the men," she said hating the pleading in her voice. "And who'll do the laundry?"

He gave her a sweet smile. "Sorry darling, but there ain't much call for a laundress out on a drive."

After that letdown, Lacey tuned the men out. She wondered if she was truly anxious to go on a long, hot trail ride, or if it was more likely that she was distraught at the thought of being separated from Slade.

The men started to meander back to their bunker. And soon, only Slade and Dix were left to finish planning.

"Don't look so forlorn, Duchess. You won't be missing much. Besides, it's too dangerous for a woman."

"I'll have you know, I've done many dangerous things in my life," she said, smoothing her skirt primly.

Slade accepted a freshly rolled cigarette from Dix and lit it. "'S that right?" He exhaled a stream of smoke. "And what would those dangerous adventures have been?"

"Well, one time, my friend Jas and I visited a deserted castle at night. We waded across the moat and hauled ourselves through the stone window."

"Then you and your little girlfriend tramped home soaking wet?"

"Actually, we disrobed and left our clothes on the bank. So I was quite dry when I tramped home. And Jas is not a girl. He's a boy named Jasper."

His pale eyes narrowed as he considered her.

Dix, who was taking a sip of his coffee, spluttered at her revelation. "This story is getting good."

Slade flicked his barely smoked cigarette into the fire and sat up. It occurred to her, with a bit of alarm, she now had his full attention.

"You swam naked with a man?" he asked. He seemed to be clenching his jaw while waiting for her reply.

"Not exactly a man. He was only sixteen at the time. This is beside the point."

"Sixteen?" Dix let out a barking laugh, "Around here, there are sixteen year old boys raising families of their own."

"Where were your parents while you were swimming naked in a moat?" Slade asked.

"My mother died when I was twelve. And my father didn't care if I was setting all of London on fire, as long as I didn't interfere with his work."

"Sorry to hear that, Duchess. Must have been tough."

His sympathetic words flustered her. Lacey looked down and dug the toe of her boot into the ashes around the fire pit.

"I was perfectly safe, I can assure you," she said with feigned indifference. She leaned in a little closer to both men. "Jasper did not have an affinity for girls," she confided in rather hushed tones.

"No?" Slade asked. He could actually feel his jaw relax. As he had so often done of late, he lifted a curl from her shoulder and rubbed the ends with his thumb. "And how would you know that, Duchess?"

"He told me as much."

"Of course, he told you that. How else would he have gotten you naked?" Dix said.

Slade backhanded Dix across the arm.

"Think what you want," she said with a huff. She stood and walked briskly toward the house.

"C'mon, Lacey. Don't be angry. Dix didn't mean anything by it."

Without looking back, she brushed his explanation off with a flick of her hand.

"What did you go and do that for, Dix?"

"Just letting my big mouth do the talking for me," Dix said with a shrug.

"I'll say."

Dix stared at him for a minute and then shook his head. "You're breaking my heart, Slade."

"What the hell you ramblin' on about now?"

"Just that you ain't movin' fast enough. That pretty little gal will be gone in no time. You know Grady wouldn't scruple to stay away from what was yours."

"Grady isn't even an issue."

Dix gave him a knowing glance. "What is it with you, Slade? Still don't think you merit anything good in your life. It's been ten long years. Even if your father had known the consequences, he'd have done the same thing. Any decent man would risk his life to save his son."

"No matter how rotten a son is?" Slade asked.

"Do you think you were the first adolescent that did something foolish? It was probably the one and only time you ever disappointed your dad."

Dix finished off the rest of his drink before getting to his feet.

Slade stayed there alone, staring at the dying flames. There was sense in what Dix said. Maybe it was time to stop denying his wants. Time to get on with the business of living again.

* * * *

Slade sat on the foot of his bed, the light of dawn still a whisper in the sky, trying to convince himself that this would all be worthwhile. The other men would already be down by the barn saddling their horses.

As usual, he had barely slept a wink. He was sure the grogginess would take its full toll on him once he was mounted. The rare nightmare still plagued him. But lately, his restless nights were due to Lacey. She probably didn't even realize the effect she was having on him. Alone in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he found himself reliving every smile, every laugh. Even her pouts made him crazy.

He padded barefoot to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of Dora's bitingly potent coffee. Dix often joked it was strong enough to peel paint. Slade doubted whether Dora's coffee would even do the trick this morning.

This would prove a daunting task, rounding up wild steer. There was a chance that it would pay off with some valuable offspring in the coming spring.

Slade yanked on his boots and grabbed his gunbelt, taking care not to clank the metal buckle. He crept past her room, remembering how she'd all but begged to come along. The hurt in her golden eyes had almost melted his resolve. The hunt for mavericks might keep him away for days. Days without her. This trip, he thought, would be hellish in so many ways.

Slade poured himself a second mug of Arbuckle's and emptied the tin of last night's biscuits, before heading down to the barn.

Blue was hitching horses to a covered wagon, sagging beneath its load of food and supplies.

He could hear the men down at the barn, an excited edge to their voices. They were actually happy to be going on a round-up. In a way, Slade could understand. Work around the ranch had been slow and monotonous with so few heads to care for. Slade had insisted they line drive the perimeter, regardless of how many cattle they were tracking. At least, they'd gotten a roof on the cook shed.

Tait's youthful voice could be heard above everyone else's. Slade smiled to himself at his brother's enthusiasm. He was amazed at how far Tait had come. His roping and riding skills rivaled some of the more seasoned cowhands.

It would take a lot to dampen Tait's spirits. But a few nights under the stars with only ill-tempered men for company, hard tack and bacon for every meal, and rocky dirt for a bed, might just do it.