Lacy (31 page)

"Oh, Mr. Whitehall, can you ever forgive
me?" Faye wailed. "I don't know why I did it!"

"Because you love him, of course,"
Cole said kindly. He handed her his handkerchief. "Mind the stains,"
he teased as she stared at the dark red smudges. "Lacy's lip rouge is
potent."

"It must be, considering the amount of it
you've removed tonight," Marion said, with a feeble attempt at humor that
turned too soon to tears of grief and loss.

"Now, now," Lacy said, kissing her
powdered cheek. "I'm going to send Mr. Bradley back to New York on a rail.
Doesn't that make you feel better?"

"Ben will go with them!" she wailed.

"He'd better," Cole said, his eyes
flashing. "I meant what I said. I won't have him in this house."

"He's your brother, Coleman," Marion choked. "My son!"

"He's a jackass," came the short
reply. "And until he gets his priorities straight, he can stay away. How
do you think Faye feels? He has no honor! He's put her in the family way and
made out that it was all her fault. Then he stood and let that floozy call her
a tramp in front of all her neighbors!"

"I'm going to have a kid and I'm not
married," Faye said miserably. "I guess I
am
a
tramp."

"You are not!" Cole's eyes looked
threatening. "Don't you ever say that again. We'll help Ira with the
expenses. That baby's going to be pampered. Spoiled rotten. That baby will be a
Whitehall— and don't you forget it."

Faye brightened a little. "Gosh, you
don't—you don't mind?"

He smiled at her. "No. I don't mind."

"People will talk." She sighed.
"Everybody will know."

"It's better that way," Lacy assured
her. "Secrets are dangerous. They make you vulnerable. If everyone knows
all about you, you can never be blackmailed." She touched the bright blond
hair. "There are always people who don't mind capitalizing on the pain of
others. That's why you won't hide your baby, Faye. Everyone will know about it,
and that's your protection. It will all be right out in the open, and you'll go
to church with us every Sunday before it's born."

"Oh, no!" Faye gasped. "They
wouldn't let me!"

Lacy drew her forward and turned off the
gramophone, then held up her hand for silence.

"I need to ask something. Would any of you
object if we bring Faye to church with us on Sunday, considering that she is an
unwed mother?"

"Good heavens, no!" Mrs. Darlington
gasped. "None of us are that perfect, my dear," she told Faye, and
smiled at her.

The sentiment was echoed by any number of
neighbors, and Lacy relaxed.

Cole pulled her into the circle of his arm,
keeping a wary eye on Marion, who was looking brighter by the minute now that
her medicine had taken effect.

"You handled that very well, Mrs.
Whitehall,"he said, smiling. "That was one terrific object lesson you
gave Bradley."

"I'm sorry it came to that. Poor Ben."

"Poor Ben, the devil!" he returned.
"Poor little Faye."

"She'll do," she told him. "She's
tough. I'm glad we didn't try to cover it up. Faye would have been so miserable
trying to hide her condition from the community, terrified that someone would
find out. It's much better to have things aboveboard. We have no secrets from
God, after all—even if people do hide them from one another."

"I suppose so. My mother has never been
able to bear gossip. In her generation people died rather than disgrace the
family."

"Can you imagine what some of our
contemporaries will have to live down when they're grandparents?" she
teased. Her eyes flirted with him. "Would you like to dance?"

"In lieu of kicking my brother and his
woman back to San Antonio, sure."

"Ben will never forgive you for what you
called her," Lacy said, her lips twitching.

"I'll never forgive her for what she said
to Faye. Poor little kid... Look at her. She loves Ben so much that she'll ruin
that child with loving when it's born. And he wants that city icicle."

"She may not be so receptive when my
cousins get through with her father," Lacy said. "Ben wanted Jessica
because of his career. She wanted Ben because her father needed him to write
for the paper, knowing that he'd do it cheap because he was involved with
Jessica. I expect there'll be a parting of the ways any day now."

"One can hope," Cole said. "But I
meant it. Until—and unless— Ben apologizes, he can't come here."

"Not even to see Marion?" Lacy asked
gently. "It will break her heart."

"He can see her in town," he said
shortly, bending that much but no further. "I'll have Turk drive
her."

"Poor Turk took off. Jessica was really
giving him the eye."

"He isn't as much a lady's man as he
was," Cole said thoughtfully. "Amazing, that. He's different
lately."

"Since Katy left," Lacy agreed.

"Yes. Since Katy left." He sighed.
"I wish I knew how she was. I'm sure something's wrong. I just feel
it."

As if in answer to the statement, the telephone
gave the ranch's three rings. Cole and Lacy exchanged long glances before he
went quickly to answer it. Lacy held her breath, sensing disaster.

Chapter Fourteen

Cole
didn't recognize the
voice on the other end of the line. The operator had said it was a call from Chicago before she connected them.

"I want to speak to Mr. Whitehall," a
strange male voice announced over crackling wires.

"This is Coleman Whitehall," Cole said
shortly.

"I'm Lieutenant Higgins, of the Chicago police. I'm afraid I have some bad news. There's been a shooting," the caller
replied, adding quickly, "Mrs. Marlone is.. .not wounded. Her husband,
however, is dead. We have the culprit in custody. A Mr. Blake Wardell. He's a
well-known local gambler with whom Mr. Marlone had dealings."

Cole sucked in his breath. Marlone, dead! That
damned mobster! Cole couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for the man, but
he did feel sorry for Katy.

"Can I speak to my sister?" he asked,
keeping his voice down so that Marion and Lacy wouldn't overhear. He wanted
time to break it to them gently.

"That's the problem, you see. Until five
minutes ago, we didn't know how to contact her family. Mr. Marlone's mother,
regrettably, had to be sedated and couldn't tell us anything."

"Couldn't Katy have told you?" he shot
back, fear knotting up his stomach.

"Mr. Whitehall..." Higgins hesitated.
"Mrs. Marlone is.. .not able to speak. The attending physician feels that
her mind has, forgive me, gone. He wants to speak with you about the
possibility of having her transferred to a—to a sanitarium. He does not think
that she will recover."

Cole felt the blood draining out of his face. He
was utterly speechless for a space of seconds while the impact hit him. Katy's
mind was gone. She was insane. Guilt, rage, murderous anger washed over him in
turn.

"Where is she?" he choked, aware of an
apprehensive Lacy and his mother watching him with wide eyes.

"In City General Hospital. Mr.
Whitehall..."

"She witnessed the shooting?" Cole
asked, with cold certainty.

"Yes."

"There's something more. What is it?"
he added perceptively.

"When we arrived, two of the occupants of
the room were
..
.in a state of
undress. Mr. Marlone, the deceased, was fully clothed and armed. I'm afraid the
situation spoke for itself."

Cole wouldn't relay that message to the women,
he decided instantly. But he felt furious anger at the dead man for putting
Katy in such company.

"I'll be on the first train to Chicago," Cole said tightly. "Tell the doctor to do nothing until I
arrive."

"Yes, sir. I'll have someone meet you at
the station."

"Thank you." Cole hung up, barely
aware of Lucy tugging at his sleeve, of Marion's worried face. He turned to
them. "Katy's husband has been killed," he said gently. "She's
all right, but Lacy and I will need to go to Chicago and bring her home.
She's.. .in shock," he said evasively.

"You're sure she's all right?" Marion asked huskily, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Coleman. I can't bear much more!"

"I do realize that." Cole put a
supporting arm around her and motioned to Faye. "Honey, can you stay with
Mother tonight? Lacy and I have to go to Chicago to fetch Katy home."

"I can stay," Faye said. "Papa's
probably drunk by now. He won't notice if I'm gone or not."

"If you have any trouble with Mother get
Turk. He'll handle things while I'm gone. Lacy, you'd better change. I'll talk
to Turk. He can drive us to the station."

Lacy didn't hesitate. She went immediately to
their room to put on her traveling suit and get a coat.

Hours later, tired and sleepy, they arrived at
the train station. As he'd promised, the police lieutenant had dispatched
someone to meet them—himself.

He was a tall, blue-eyed man with silvery hair
and a kind smile. "I'm Higgins. You're the Whitehalls, I presume?" he
asked, extending a hand to shake Cole's. Cole hadn't changed his suit; he'd
only added a black Stetson and boots to the ensemble. He looked very Western,
something the older man seemed to find fascinating. "Never met a real
rancher before," he told Cole as they watched toward his car, "but we
do a big business in Texas beef down at the stockyards."

"So I hear," Cole said. "Has my
sister said anything?"

"I'm afraid not. But I'm glad you came. I
would have hated seeing her sent to one of those places."

Lacy worried over that statement as they drove
to the hospital, Cole asking questions and the lieutenant fielding them. Cole
had told her everything. Almost everything, she amended silently, certain that
he was still holding something back. She only hoped that Katy wasn't as bad as
they'd been led to believe. She noticed that Cole hadn't told Turk anything
except that Katy's husband was dead and Katy wanted to come home. He said later
that he had a few suspicions regarding how Turk felt about Katy, and he wanted
to be there when the man was given the truth. Turk might go off the deep end,
he said. Lacy wondered about that, too. The blond foreman hadn't been the same
since Katy'd married.

Their arrival at the hospital diverted her
thoughts to more immediate matters. They were shown to a ward of iron-railed
beds. In one of them lay Katy, on sheets as white as her face. She was very
still under the covers, her body pitifully thin, her brown hair disheveled, her
green eyes dull. She looked at the ceiling, but she didn't see anything or hear
anything.

Lacy bent over her, into the field of vision.
"Katy?" she whispered.

There was no response. Not even the twitch of an
eyelash. Cole left the ward with the doctor. When he came back in, he was
somber and noticeably pale.

"Can you get her dressed?" he asked
Lacy, his voice strained. "I'll wait outside."

"Y-yes," Lacy said falteringly.
"Cole..."

"I know," he said huskily. He looked
at Katy and winced. "God,

I know. We'll cross one bridge at a time. Hurry.
If we can, I'd like to make the next train out. We can sleep at home if you
think you can manage."

"Of course I can," she said quickly.

He went out, alone with his thoughts. A nurse came
in to help Lacy, pulling the curtain around the bed. While Lacy fought a limp
Katy into her things, the nurse gave her instructions to follow when they got
home—about a doctor's continue care, about simple nursing techniques like
turning Katy every few hours so that she didn't get bedsores. Lacy was tired
and sleepy, but she listened.

"Is there any chance that she'll
recover?" Lacy asked Cole when he'd carried Katy down to the car.
Lieutenant Higgins was still tagging along, concerned.

"Very little, the doctor said," Cole
replied tersely.