A Texan's Promise (12 page)

Her discomfort long forgotten, Vanessa touched his hand."Clayton Proffitt, listen to you! I'd never imagined you'd talk so flowery."

He chuckled. "It's the truth. Corrine was all of seventeen and pretty as a summer's day. Merritt could hardly speak, he was so struck by her. Before I knew it, my captain had washed his face, slicked back his hair, and was by her side morning till night."

Vanessa tried to imagine it. "What did you do?"

"Not much for me to do—my Aunt Marge was low on food, so I took myself out and found them some chickens." He smiled at the memory. "Though the idea of a man thinking of my sister like that made me uncomfortable, I couldn't say I disapproved. Merritt's an upstanding man; Corrine could do no better." Catching Vanessa's eye, he smiled. "They started writing each other as soon as we left Marge's house, then when Merritt was injured, he recuperated at her place. Before I knew it, they were getting married."

It all sounded terribly exciting to Vanessa. "My goodness."Clayton's voice turned soft. "Soon after, we got word that our pa died. Scout was thirteen and a handful, ready to do his part for the Confederacy. But Merritt refused to let Scout enlist." Something in Clayton's eyes dimmed.

"What happened with Scout?"

"He took off and never looked back." All trace of happiness left his voice. "Last I heard, my brother was off finding his own way. Pa's death hit him hard, as did my leaving. Merritt was a good influence, but Scout's life has been so different, you know? The war shaped Merritt and me, made us who we are today. We know how to kill. We've seen the things that matter most get ripped and damaged and torn and broken. And because of that, we kept it from Scout." His eyes turned bleak."Who knows . . . maybe we sheltered him too much."

"I was sheltered, too. Until recently, I didn't even realize how much. Did Scout, uh, not appreciate your efforts?"

"Not so much, I'm thinking. Corrine said he left about three years ago. Scout said he was going to head to Texas, go back to where we lived before our world got split in two. I'm kind of surprised he didn't turn up at the Circle Z, though I'm glad he didn't. I wouldn't have liked him to see how things were with Price."

Vanessa squeezed his hand. "He'll come back. Miles is struggling too, I think."

"I sincerely hope Scout is turning into a better man than your brother."

Stung, she pulled away. "That's hardly fair."

Visibly controlling his temper, Clayton nodded. "You're right. It's hardly fair that he stood by the door and listened to Price whip you." He shook his head. "I can't forgive him for that."

"I have," she admitted, thinking that she couldn't bear not to forgive her brother. "You should, too. The Lord asks us to forgive; you know that."

"I know I should, and I know He does. But still, Vanessa, I'm not ready."

"What Price did wasn't my brother's fault. Miles, he's been hurt too," she whispered.

"Not like you. He wasn't hurt like you were." With a sigh, he shook his head. "What am I saying? What happened to you is as much my fault as any. I failed to protect you." Lowering his voice, he murmured, "I'm just glad nothing worse happened."

"I know." Yet again, Vanessa was so glad she hadn't told him everything. There was only so much a man could take.

And, well, nothing that had happened was his fault. He certainly had done as much as he could to protect her. Standing up, she murmured, "I guess I'm ready to go upstairs after all."

"All right." He gently cupped her elbow as they passed the hodgepodge assortment of characters lounging in the lobby.They'd almost made their way through the marble foyer and to the first flight of stairs when a voice called out. "Clayton Proffitt?"

Vanessa watched as he reached into his jacket for his Colt, just as he stepped in front to shield her from who knew what. His stance relaxed as the woman in vibrant peacock approached, though Vanessa noticed that he didn't step to the side. "Lacy. My stars. Look at you."

Lacy guffawed. "Do you like what you see?" She winked."Look hard, Clayton Proffitt. Why, I'm almost a lady now."Without giving him a chance to speak, she said, "What are you doing out this way? Last I heard you were in Texas."

"I was there. I'm headed to see my sister for a spell."

Lacy's eyes dimmed. "Corrine. Give her my best." She peeked around Clayton's solid frame, meeting Vanessa's eyes with a friendly grin.

Vanessa was about to introduce herself, was about to explain to Clayton that the two of them had already met, when Clayton shifted again, effectively blocking her view."Excuse us, will you?"

Lacy stepped back, her expression shuttered. "Oh. Sure, Clayton."

After briefly tipping his hat, he motioned Vanessa forward again, still taking care to place her in front of him.

Up they went. Two steps, three. Laughter flew out in the distance, and just as they turned the corner, Vanessa heard the echo of Lacy's voice as she flirted with yet another man.Beside her, Clayton stiffened.

"I met her, earlier," Vanessa blurted. "She was in the lobby.She . . . seemed nice." Vanessa was just about to talk a bit more, to explain about the many men who were being less than mannerly, when Clayton gripped her elbow and they continued up the staircase. "She should never have approached you. You're a lady. Everyone in the place knows it."

The moment he shut the door, she blurted, "She seemed to know you. Do you know her?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does." Vanessa didn't understand why he was acting so mysterious and guarded. Almost like the sight of Lacy hurt him. "Who is she? Who is she to you?"

After a brief pause, he said, "Lacy was Corrine's best friend back when we were growing up."

There was something in the way that Clayton was avoiding her eyes that made Vanessa think that there was more than just his sister's connection that made him reluctant to discuss Lacy. "Is she special to you?"

"Not anymore."

Feeling possessive, she asked the question burning her insides. "Did you have a relationship with her?"

"Not at all." He looked at her curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"It doesn't matter, I guess. It's just, well, she acted like she knew you well. . . . " Vanessa's voice trailed off as she tried to analyze why she did care so much. Then, she knew. She was jealous.

Jealous that another woman knew Clayton in a way that she had not. The knowing look she'd spied in Lacy's eyes had brought to the forefront everything she was thinking about, all their promises—and all the things she'd once hoped for but was now so afraid to do. So she pushed. "Did you love her, Clayton? Did you . . . did you bed her?"

His expression hardened while he reached out and gripped her arms. She knew he was holding her at bay, but what she also knew was that he was keeping her close. Once again, their scents collided, making her feel connected; making her aware of each breath he inhaled, the pressure of each finger on her arms. "No, I did not. You shouldn't ask such things."

"Why not?"

"I'm trying to keep you safe. I'm trying to keep you out of harm's way."

"I've already been in harm's way," she whispered.

His expression turned strained. "The Lord brought me to you to guide you. To protect you."

She wasn't sure what the Lord had in mind for her anymore.If He had plans, how had he let Price attack her? How had he let Miles simply stand by? Why did she love Clayton but fear

truly becoming his wife? "Maybe that's not what He wants," she said softly. "Maybe we don't really know His will."

As the silence stretched, the tension escalated. Clayton's calloused hands slid from her arms to around her waist, kneading, pulling her closer. His gaze paused on her lips. "Don't say that," he warned.

"I'm only speaking the truth." His chest was warm; his skin smelled so clean. Brown eyes scanned her face, halted at her lips, reminding her of just how much she loved him.

How much she used to yearn for him. How much she still did.

Without stopping to think, she linked her hands around his neck. He hadn't shaved in two days; through the thin fabric of her sleeves, the stubble grazed her arms, shooting bolts of attraction through her. His stance widened. His tug brought her closer.

And then there was nothing to think at all. Because he claimed her lips. Vanessa reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, felt the soft strands spike up, loved the feeling of being in his arms. This was how she'd always imagined a kiss could be. Explosive, all-encompassing.

Before she'd been hurt.

When she'd only ever thought about one man. When it had only been Clayton.

As quick as it happened, the kiss ended. Scanning her face, his expression hardened. "Did I hurt you? Did I scare you?"

"No." To her surprise, she wasn't afraid of Clayton. Of how she'd felt in his arms. No, the only regret she had was that they were now standing apart again.

He ran his fingers through his hair before turning away."Seeing Lacy . . . it brought back too many memories."

"Like what, Clayton? What happened to her?"

"Shortly after her pa left to fight, she and her mother were attacked by renegades. Her mother soon died, and Lacy was ruined. Pretty much her whole home was broken. So was she.Eventually, Corrine told me Lacy went to work in a town in West Texas. In a place like Camp Hope."

His expression pained, he continued. "A couple of months after all that happened, my regiment stopped there. Some of the men in our unit went to a . . . to a sporting house." His voice hollow, he whispered, "The next morning, I heard two men talking about her. They'd paid her to be with them." To her surprise, he voice cracked. "I heard the stories—men talk.But I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to defend her."

His expression turned distant, full of regret. He edged to the door. "I need to get out of here. When we're together, alone, I forget things. I almost forget the things I've promised." His hand snaked out and gripped the handle hard. "Lock the door behind me. I have a key."

A knot lodged in her throat as she fought back tears. "Please don't leave."

"I've been as strong as I can possibly be for both of us. But Vanessa, right this minute, I don't feel strong at all. I feel weak and worn out. I . . . I can't stay here a moment longer."He edged to the door, breaking contact with her, leaving her alone with her thoughts and ghosts once again.

Vanessa's heart broke as she breathed in deep. If she closed her eyes really tight, she could almost pretend he was still in the room, by her side.

You back already, Clayton?"

Clayton turned to see Lacy leaning against the doorway of the saloon, her shoulders back and proud, looking for all the world like an invitation for dark appetites. "I am," he muttered before taking a table near the back. "I, uh, needed a drink."

"So I see. Mind if I join you?"

"No."

"Thank you." Humor filled her eyes as she walked over and sat beside him, the stiff teal skirts rustling against his legs when she took her chair. "It's too bad you ain't got any whiskey in front of you. Want me to get you two fingers worth?"

"No. Not yet."

His insides were as twisted as the branches of the mesquite he'd gotten to know so well in Texas. Unfortunately, he felt as sorrowful as the squat, ugly trees had always looked to him.Across the bar, the piano was playing. In and around, men and women from all walks of life congregated, their voices mixing and floating over the tune of "Dixie."

Times had certainly changed. The vestiges of the war created a blurring of society lines, at least for the time being. No longer was it only women of questionable character who frequented places like this. Now a true mixture of people were seated together, their common need to deaden hurts overlying most all social boundaries.

After watching him for a minute, Lacy spoke. "So, there's a Mrs. Proffitt in the world now. That is news. When did y'all get hitched?"

"A few days ago."

She blinked. "My. Well, that is interesting." She swung her leg up and down, the movement rustling her dress. "So, at this very moment, your bride's upstairs all alone?"

Her question wasn't worth answering.

At his silence, Lacy chuckled raucously. "Guess you're finding married life a little taxing. Don't worry, Clay. She'll come around. They all do."

Remembering how Lacy used to be, back when she'd played dolls with Corrine, he said, "Is that what happened to you, Lacy? Did you come 'round, Lace?" The question was harsh, the implication rude.

He was almost ashamed.

All humor fled from her eyes. "Come now, Clayton. We both know I was never a bride."

"I apologize. I shouldn't have spoken so."

She waved a hand. "No apology necessary. You said the truth a whole lot kinder than most." Lowering her voice, she whispered, "Shoot, we both know there's been plenty I shouldn't have done."

He felt the same way. "How long have you been in Colorado Springs?"

"Just over a year now. I was a real gentleman's ladybird for a spell." Fingering her skirts, she murmured, "Randolph Porter hailed from Boston. We found each other in Kansas City. He brought me here before he got gold fever and headed out to California." She frowned slightly. "By mutual agreement, I decided to stay here when he moved on."

"Are you glad you stayed?"

"Maybe." With a shrug, she amended herself. "Naturally.Randolph left me enough money so that I can go my own way.No more cathouses for me." Quietly, she scanned the bar, her gaze constantly appraising. "Now I decide who I want to be with, not anyone else. I'll take that, I'll tell you what."

The piano player started playing "Little Brown Jug." The song was familiar enough that a couple of patrons joined in.

Clayton figured it was enough of a distraction to ask Lacy something he just thought of. "You ever hear of a man by the name of Price Venture?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I hope not. He lives out near Lubbock. Near Camp Hope."

"I ain't been that way in years, Clayton."

"I know. But he gets around. He's my wife's stepfather. Took over the Circle Z."

Concern lit her features. "
Circle Z.
That was your outfit, right? I met a few cowboys a year or so ago who mentioned your name."

"Yes. It was where I worked. Price, he might come looking for her."

Interest and humor and something like disbelief entered her expression. "Am I hearin' this right? You, Clayton Proffitt, took your bride right out from under another man's nose?"

After weighing his options, Clayton lowered his voice."There's a story there."

"Do tell."

He wasn't eager to replay Vanessa's troubles. Especially not when they'd just argued and he'd left her upstairs. "Now's not the time."

Whether it was from his terse reply or her expansive knowledge, Lacy turned serious. "She okay?"

He didn't know. Instead of answering, he said, "For the next few months, I'll be at Corrine's spread, south of here. The Bar M. If you hear anything about Venture sniffing around, would you send word?"

"For old time's sake?"

Clayton watched as she tossed back the drink, the liquor subduing her own ghosts. "Yes, for old time's sake," he said quietly. "If what we had could be called that."

"I'll do it, but in return I have a favor to ask of you."

"Name it."

"Tell Corrine I asked about her." Blue eyes shimmered. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind."

"If you do, uh, get the chance, please don't tell her what I've become," she said softly. "I'd like there to be one person in this world who still remembers what I could have been."

Thinking of the war, of the things he'd done, the things he'd seen, he blinked. "Are any of us like that?"

"Your wife, maybe."

"Maybe." With some hope, he added, "Maybe Scout."

Lacy shook her head, regret in her eyes. "Scout's not that kind of person, honey. I saw him six months ago."

The shock of it took him by surprise. "Here?"

"Indeed."

"How was he looking?" He could hardly believe his luck; he was so eager to hear about his baby brother.

"The truth isn't always what we hope for." She hesitated."Do you really want to know the truth about Scout?"

Clayton nodded.

"He was dressed all in black, like a vulture. Like a cussed gunfighter, if you want to know the truth. Because, Clayton, a gunfighter is what he is."

"Are you sure? Maybe you misunderstood—"

"I'm positive. He kills for money, Clayton."

The news hit him hard, though it shouldn't have. Hadn't he heard that his younger brother knew how to shoot well? Yet, last he'd heard, Scout had never experienced the repercussions of hitting a human target.

Once again, Clayton wondered if he should have taken him into battle. If nothing else, Scout could have helped at the camps, could have leaned on him when he understood the price a man paid when he took a life.

He shouldered Scout's disgrace. "Corrine and I hoped to shelter him," he muttered by way of explanation, though the good Lord knew Lacy wasn't asking for any. "I don't know what happened. I guess we did too much for him."

"It wasn't you, it was Scout, Clay. He went wrong."

"I'm not sure about that."

"I am. There comes a time for both man and woman to realize that life isn't full of dreams and sunshine. Sometimes it ain't what you thought it'd be at all. That's when it's time to stand on two feet—even if one of them is blown off," she finished with a sideways look at a man lurking in the darkness of the bar, half his face scarred.

Her eyes hardening, she said softly, "That's when you realize that you might as well make the best of what it is—of what is real. There ain't nothing else."

Maybe Lacy was right; he didn't know. All Clayton did know was that his brother knew he'd been working at the Circle Z and hadn't sought him out. Instead, he'd decided to adopt a way of life that would've shamed Arthur Proffitt."Thanks for the news."

"I'm sorry it wasn't better." She looked to add more, but then her roving eyes caught sight of a newcomer and stilled.

Clayton watched as her expression lit up like a firecracker as a city slicker walked toward the bar, his expensive wool suit tailored, his skin lax and pale under a neatly trimmed beard.A gold watch chain peeked out of his vest pocket.

Lacy smiled. "Now looky there, Clay. That there is a man who needs me."

The man looked as green as the hills of Georgia. "He looks like he's waiting to be robbed," Clayton said with a smile.

"He will be if he's not careful. What he needs, honey, is someone to show him the ropes."

Rubbing a pinky under her eyes to mop up some smudged kohl, Lacy shimmied her dress down a good inch, then stood up. "Thanks for the conversation, Clay. Time for me to go make my future."

"Bye, Lace."

She pointed to the grand staircase barely visible from their position at the bar. "Go on up and see to your wife," she said, her expression surprisingly gentle. "Knowing you're down here, she's probably tossing and turning, imagining the worst.Don't let her think that. Remember—we've all got to have someone who still believes in good."

And with that, she plastered a smile on her face and sauntered over to the gent. "I'm so parched I swear I'm about to expire!" she said gaily, plopping down on the greenhorn's lap before he even had time to look her way. As the man eyed her in wonder, she sidled close. "Tell me that you'll assuage my needs."

The bartender grunted as he slammed a shot glass in front of her. Obviously he'd seen the act before.

The poor greenhorn's eyes bugged and his hands drifted in the air, obviously not having a clue as to where to place them on Lacy's voluptuous body.

Clayton tossed a bill on the bar as he left, Lacy's voice carrying across the room. "Look at you, sugar. There's so much of you. And it's all so . . . sweet."

A gunslinger in the back coughed. The scarred war veteran shook his head at Lacy's slick line but leaned forward to listen closer.

And Clayton fought back a smile. He hoped Lacy's latest target had a stash of cash, otherwise she'd take it all and leave him and his weak physique floundering in the mountains.

Once more, there wasn't a man in the room who'd fault Lacy nor pity the greenhorn, neither. Like Lacy said, everyone had to make their way as best they could. If a man was too dumb to see he was an easy mark or in over his head, he got what he deserved.

To his relief, Vanessa was asleep when he entered. Quickly, he undressed, splashed water on his face, then crawled into the massive bed next to her.

Vanessa shifted, causing another strand of her hair to escape its braided confines and flow brightly against her pillow.Clayton lay on his back and tried to ignore his yearning for her, but it was no use. Her sweet, clean scent—so different from Lacy's cloying perfume—called to him as sharply as if she'd spoken his name.

Vanessa shifted again. Opened one eye. "Clay? You're back?"

"Yeah."

She tried to sit back on her elbows. "About earlier—I'm sorry—"

"There's no need, honey. Go back to sleep."

Moments passed. When her breathing turned deep, he eyed her back, completely covered in a long white gown. She was slim. Really, such a tiny thing.

Too slight to have been through the things that she had.Unable to stop himself, he ran a finger along her back. Two long ridges met his touch—reminders of their pasts.

Her scars were hidden from most, but perhaps not as deep as Lacy's.

And God help him, but he was glad she wasn't Lacy. He was glad nothing worse than stiff leather had hurt her. He was glad that she didn't have to depend on crafty wiles and men's ignorance to get what she wanted.

The world needed Vanessa's sweetness, her virtue. There had to be someone in the world who could survive the war and remain unsullied.

Most people hadn't. Not him, not Ken, not the men in the saloon downstairs. Not Lacy or the girl in Galveston.

Not even his baby brother. Not Scout.

Clayton fell asleep worrying about things that should have been. And things that never were.