Lacy (32 page)

"Miracles happen," the lieutenant
insisted. "I've seen a few in my twenty years of police work."

"I hope you're right," Lacy said
fervently. "Oh, poor Katy!"

"You realize that she's in no shape to
testify?" Cole asked the police officer on the way to the train.

"Certainly. If her condition should change,
however, we 'd like to be notified."

"I hope I can oblige," Cole replied.
"Maybe just being at home will do the trick."

"What about the man who did the
shooting?" Lacy asked curiously.

"Ah, the crafty Mr. Wardell." He
smiled. "Well, little lady, I expect to find him out on bail when the
doors open in the morning. He's rich—and he has plenty of friends at city hall.
He had no use for Marlone. Wardell may be a mobster, but he's an honorable
mobster. He hates drugs." Cole froze. "Drugs?"

"Didn't you know?" the lieutenant
asked. He waited until Lacy got the message and went on ahead. Then he paused
beside Cole. "Marlone was hooked on the stuff. He was into all sorts of
perverted stuff with women. Wardell was in love with Mrs. Marlone here.
Although he said himself that she'd had a few drinks and didn't really know
what was happening, he was crazy for her. He said Marlone had beaten her up bad
a few days before. Last night, she was tipsy, and he lost control. Marlone
didn't walk in on them so much as he sneaked in to watch."

"Oh. my God," Cole ground out, sick at
the sordidness of it. "Did Katy know?"

"Not until after. Neither of them did.
Wardell jumped out of bed, yelling bloody murder. Marlone grabbed his gun and
tried to shoot him, but Wardell was quicker." He looked Cole in the eye.
"What happened was horrible, but she was the victim in all of it. She did
what Marlone told her to do because she was scared stiff of him. He was so
hopped up, he didn't mind killing people. She probably was afraid he'd kill one
of you if she asked for help. Don't blame her."

"She's my sister," Cole replied,
glancing down at her thin, vacant face. "I love her."

"Wardell will probably look for
her,"he said. "He's asked about her constantly. He feels
responsible."

"A mobster with a conscience?" Cole
scoffed.

"A man in love," Higgins said quietly.
"I've known the guy a long time. I've never seen him like this. He's torn
up. He tried to get her away from Marlone, but she was too afraid to go."

"You said Marlone's mother had to be
sedated. Will she be all right?"

"She has family in Italy. I imagine she'll go back there, now. She never liked this country."

"It's unhealthy for some people," Cole
said. His mind was reeling with what he'd learned.

They caught up with Lacy, who was frowning.

"You said Danny used drugs. Katy didn't
take them, did she?" Lacy asked miserably.

"I'm sure she didn't, ma'am," the
police officer replied gallantly. "There were no needle marks."

"Thank God," Lacy whispered, her eyes
on Katy's vacant face. "My poor Katy!"

"I wish you well," the lieutenant said
as he watched them board the train when it came, Cole cradling Katy as he
carried her inside the compartment. "I'll be in touch."

"Thank you," Cole said, and meant it.
"If you ever get down to Texas, you'll always have a place to stay."

The older man smiled. "Always fancied being
a cowboy. I suppose it's nothing near as glamorous as Zane Grey says."

Cole smiled. "Not unless you like blood and
sweat and getting kicked in the belly by mama cows."

"That's what I thought. Have a good
trip." He paused. "About Wardell..."

Cole hesitated. He wanted to say to hell with
the man. But he'd tried to help Katy when no one else had. And he knew himself
how it hurt to love someone who seemed out of his reach. He sighed with
reluctant resignation. "Tell him he can call. You have my number. But he's
only to speak to me. You understand?"

"Very well," Higgins agreed.
"Poor fish. He can't help himself. Too bad he didn't go respectable, with
a brain like that. Good-bye."

Katy didn't stir all the way back to the siding
at Spanish Flats. Lacy slept, curled up against Cole, while he dozed
intermittently. She'd asked questions, but he'd kept from saying much. He
didn't want her to know all of it yet.

His mind was cluttered with worries. His
mother's health, the row with Ben, Faye's pregnancy, Katy's condition... On top
of that, there was the financial situation, getting worse daily as cattle
prices fell. He closed his eyes on a silent prayer. Nobody short of God could
bail him out now.

Marion
came out on the porch
when she heard a car drive up. Cole and Lacy arrived with Katy. It was well
after daylight, and they'd hitched a ride home with a neighbor who'd gone into
town after his mail. Marion had hardly slept, despite little Faye's loving
concern and care.

"Katy!" Marion exclaimed, shocked when
she saw her daughter's face and blank stare. "Cole, what's happened to her!"

"Shock," Cole said instantly.
"She needs plenty of rest and quiet, and she'll be all right. Let's get
her to her room."

"I made up her bed," Marion said.
"Oh, my poor baby!" She touched Katy's hair, but the girl didn't
stir, not even when she was laid on the coverlet of her bed. Cole pulled a
pillow under her head, and all three of them stood watching her, worrying.

"Where's Turk?" Cole asked.

"At the barn— No, I hear him," Marion said, smiling as the blond man approached down the hall. "He's been as excited
about Katy coming home as I have. Not that we aren't sorry about Danny, of
course," she added guiltily. "Will she be going back for the
funeral?"

That would be one for the books, Cole thought
sadly.

Turk came into the room before Cole could speak,
hat in hand, grinning. "So there you are, tidbit—"The grin faded; the
light in his eyes went out as he saw Katy's face. He moved slowly to the
bedside and looked down at her without speaking. "I thought you said she
was all right," he said to Cole, his eyes flashing.

"She will be," Lacy said stubbornly.
"She's had a shock, that's all."

"What kind of shock?"Turk asked. His
face grew wild, like the thick blond hair his hand was worrying.

"Danny was killed in front of her,"
Cole said. He didn't add one word about the circumstances. Turk didn't need to
know that. It would drive him mad.

"Tough "Turk said quietly. His eyes
ran over her face with aching need. It had been so long since he'd seen her.
He'd relived that afternoon with her every night, woke burning for her every
morning, cursed himself for letting her leave with Marlone. Now she was back,
but she wasn't. She was damaged. Thin and worn and older somehow, and her eyes
didn't see anything. Surely, he thought fearfully, this was more than just
shock at seeing her husband shot. He knew that look as well as Cole did. He'd
seen it in the faces of airmen who couldn't get back on board their planes.
He'd seen it on the faces of combat troops who couldn't get out of bed, their
eyes mercifully vacant, their minds.. .gone!

He turned toward Cole's tormented face, and when
he saw it, he knew. A look passed between them that the women didn't see. Turk
felt his stomach caving in. There was something more. Something horrible. He
looked at Katy and the light went out of the world as he realized that this was
no minor case of shock.

If only he'd stopped her from leaving! There was
an ominous stillness about her body that frightened him. Only her shallow
breathing made her look alive at all.

"Where's Faye?" Lacy asked Marion.

"Out back. It's washday," Marion replied.

Lacy poked her head out the window and looked.
There was Faye, and two of the ranch wives, doing the laundry. Faye held a long
wooden battling stick; she was standing over a big black pot of boiling water
where the white shirts were soaking. She stirred them, damp hair around her
face. Nearby, two number two washtubs of cold water waited to rinse the soap
and bleach out of the shirts. There was another washtub of soapy water with a
wood and accordion-metal washboard, too, to scrub the work clothes on and
loosen the ground-in dirt. Two long wire lines were attached to oak trees just
behind the washtubs for hanging the wet laundry. Washing was an all-day job,
and the ranch didn't boast a washing machine yet. It was the one luxury the
women would have given their teeth for, but it was too expensive, Marion insisted, and dug her heels in when Lacy tried to buy her one. The telephone and
indoor bathroom and electricity were already wearing on her conscience.

Faye looked happy, despite her chore. Lacy
smiled.

"Can we keep her, do you think?" she
asked Cole. "Her father won't really miss her, and he's too drunk to look
after her."

"I wouldn't mind," Cole said,
agreeing, "but Ira wouldn't hear of it. He loves her, you know. Drunk or
sober." "I suppose you're right." She sighed.

"Besides, we've got Katy to take care of
now," he added, his eyes troubled as he looked at his sister. "God
knows what she's been through in the past few months. She's so thin."

"My poor baby," Marion said gently,
tears in her eyes. "What a terrible night it's been for her."

"She'll get better," Lacy said, with
conviction. "You wait and see."

"I do hope you're right," Marion said. But she looked worried all the same.

Turk hadn't said a word. He took one last look
at Katy and left the room. He couldn't bear her silent stillness another minute
without breaking down. Until he saw her in that condition, he didn't know that
he loved her. Ironic, he thought, that he should know it now, when it was
probably far too late.

In Chicago, Blake Wardell was stepping out into
the street into early morning traffic. He needed a shave and his eyes were
bloodshot. Beside him, his lawyer was talking, but he barely heard.

".. .clear case of self-defense," the
attorney muttered. "Everyone knows Marlone was a dopey pervert. But if the
woman recovers enough to testify—"

"No."Wardell stared down at him with
blazing dark eyes. "You leave her out of it. I'll take the rap if I have
to—-I'll go up for murder one if I have to—but you leave her out of it,
completely! Buy off anybody you have to, but keep her name out of the
papers."

"We'll have to get Mama Marlone out of
town," the lawyer said thoughtfully.

"Ship her home to Italy,"he said. "Do it today. Then find the boys from the coroner's office and
the cops who answered the call. Play on their sympathies, grease their palms.
But cool them off. And have a private word with the publishers of those
papers."

"You're taking a risk."

"I'd take poison for her," he said
huskily. "Go on home. I want to see Higgins."

The lieutenant was in his office, and not at all
surprised when Wardell came in the door, big and dark and oddly subdued.

"Here," Higgins said, handing the big
man a slip of paper without being asked. "That's her brother's telephone
number. He said you're welcome to call, but don't talk to anybody but him. He
hasn't told the family all of it. He probably never will."

"How was she?" he asked quietly.

"Bad," Higgins said, pulling no
punches. This man was well able to take anything life threw at him, even the
loss of a woman he idolized. "Nobody knows if her mind's gone or not, but
her brother won't let her be institutionalized."

"Neither would I. Are her folks well
fixed?"

"Beats me. They're ranching people. I
imagine not."

"Anything they need,"he said.
"Anything at all. Doctors, money, nurses.. .you name it."

"Tell him. But don't expect help to be
welcomed. He's got the devil's own pride."

Wardell smiled faintly. That sounded familiar.
"Okay. There are ways. I know bankers all over."

"I'm not surprised." Higgins stood up.
"If you do anything outside the law, make sure I don't know about it.
You're in enough trouble."

"Think so?"

Higgins shrugged. "Not really. Marlone was
a dirty rat. He only got what was coming to him. No sane jury will convict you.
I know several dames who'll dance on his coffin and make terrific character
witnesses."