The Outlaws: Sam (3 page)

"I can fire you," Lacey charged. "I don't
have to hire you on. I own the B&G and can fire and hire
whomever I please."

"You can't fire me, Lacey. I'm your husband.
You may own the B&G but I own you. May I assume you still have
our marriage license?"

"You may assume whatever you like."

"Of course you'd still have it. It's the only
way you can prove Andy's legitimacy, even though I'm not the boy's
father."

Lacey hesitated. Now would be a good time to
tell Sam that Andy was his son, but a voice inside her told her it
would be unwise to divulge that information. She had no idea if Sam
would react favorably toward his son. If he believed her he might
try to take Andy from her, but she seriously doubted he would
believe her.

Lacey decided to take a reasonable approach.
"It would be best for both of us if you left and let me quietly
pursue a divorce."

Sam mulled over Lacey's request and rejected
it out of hand. He didn't want a divorce, but it wasn't because he
still felt emotionally bound to Lacey. Far from it. He felt nothing
but contempt for her.

"Sorry, Lacey. I'm not going anywhere. I'm
going to stick around for awhile." He headed toward the door. "I'll
see you tonight at supper."

"What!"

His tone made a mockery of his words. "I
think it's time I got to know my son, don't you?"

"Damn you, Sam Gentry! If you hurt Andy I'll
never forgive you."

Sam closed the door behind her tirade and
leaned against it. Seeing Lacey after all these years had taken a
toll on him. She had changed from an innocent young girl to a
beautiful, mature woman. Childbirth had enhanced her figure;
rounded curves fulfilled the promise of her youthful, immature
figure. Her blond hair hadn't darkened, but remained the color of
ripe wheat, and her eyes were still the entrancing hazel he
remembered. He could easily look back and see how he had come to
love her.

Pushing himself away from the door, Sam left
the house and headed for the corral. Rusty was waiting for him.

Rusty eyed Sam narrowly. "You and Miz Lacey
must have had a lot to talk about. Ain't never known her to talk to
one of the new hands so long. Are you staying or ain't you?"

"I'm staying."

That brief answer didn't seem to appease
Rusty's curiosity. "What did you and Miz Lacey talk about?"

"This and that. What do you have for me to do
today, Rusty?"

Rusty must have realized he was getting
nothing more from Sam. "Keep your secrets, Sam. We can use you in
the north pasture. The herd needs to be moved to a field with
better grazing. If this draught doesn't end soon, our cows are
gonna start dropping like flies. Saddle your horse and meet me by
the fence. I'll take you out there myself."

While Sam was saddling his horse, Andy peeped
into the corral, saw Sam, and hurried up to join him.

"Did Rusty hire you on?"

Sam sent the boy a cursory glance. "Yep. I'm headed
out to the north pasture now."

"You'll like it here. Everybody likes Mama
and Rusty. Where you from, Sam?"

The boy was a friendly sort, Sam gave him
that much. "Up around Kansas way."

"Me and Mama moved here with Uncle Hob after
Grandpa died. We used to live in Pennsylvania. Did I tell you my
daddy died in the war?"

"Yep. I hear you're gonna have another daddy
soon," Sam couldn't help asking.

Sam almost burst out laughing at the face
Andy made.

"Mean old Cramer will
never
be my
daddy," Andy said with a vehemence that immediately sobered Sam.
"He wasn't even in the war. He doesn't like me and I don't like
him."

"Have you told your mother how you feel?"

Andy nodded glumly. "She said I'm imagining
things. She says we need mean old Cramer to save the ranch." His
five-year-old face puckered, as if he wanted to cry. "I don't care
about the ranch. I don't want Mama to marry mean that man."

An unwanted pang of compassion touched Sam's
heart. He had to admit the little tyke was appealing. He couldn't
help the circumstances of his birth. He was innocent of his
mother's misdeeds. Sam's compassion, however, didn't extend to
accepting Andy as his son, irregardless of the fact that the boy
bore the Gentry name.

Sam mounted his horse. "I gotta go now, Andy.
We'll talk about this later, if you'd like."

Andy beamed up at him. "I'd like that, Sam.
Rusty don't mind if I talk to him but he's always so busy. I'll see
you later."

Sam worked his butt off that day. He couldn't
recall when he'd been so tired. Farming was hard work but ranching
was no child's play. He'd met some of the hands and found them all
to be congenial fellows. When they had gathered together to eat the
lunch Luke brought them, Sam listened to the talk and concluded
that most of the hands intensely disliked Taylor Cramer. As he
washed up at the pump, he recalled bits and pieces of the
conversation.

"Miz Lacey is too good for Cramer," a young
man named Bart said.

A hand known as Lefty for the obvious reason
added his opinion. "I don't plan on sticking around after she
marries Cramer."

Several grunts of agreement followed. Sam
decided to find out what the hands had against Cramer.

"Why do you all dislike Cramer," he drawled,
pretending only slight interest.

"For starters, he don't like Andy," Lefty
explained.

"You got that right, Lefty," young Bart
agreed. "Andy gets in the way sometimes, but he's a friendly little
fellow. I don't mind his questions. Cramer seems to resent the kid.
Don't know why Miz Lacey can't see it."

"We all know why," Lefty injected. "He's rich
and Miz Lacey needs money to save the ranch. I think Cramer has
some private agenda, too. He's wanted the ranch for a good long
time."

"Why doesn't the boss apply for a loan?" Sam
ventured.

"She's a woman. Banks don't loan money to
women," Lefty elaborated.

Sam had gotten more from that conversation
than he wanted. He shouldn't care what happened to Lacey, or what
went on in her life, but hearing to the hands complain about Cramer
got his dander up and made him more than a little curious about the
man Lacey intended to marry.

Sam finished up at the pump and saw Rusty
headed in his direction. "I'll walk with you to the cookhouse,
Sam," Rusty said. "Luke's serving up his special stew tonight."

"I'm taking supper at the big house tonight,"
Sam answered.

Rusty stopped in his tracks. "You what? Did I
hear right, son? Did you say you were having supper with Miz Lacey
and Andy?"

"You heard right, Rusty."

Rusty removed his hat and scratched his head.
"What's going on, Sam? That don't sound like Miz Lacey. Are you
sure she asked you for supper."

"Yep. I'm heading up there as soon as I
change."

Rusty grinned. "Well, don't that beat all.
Miz Lacey must have taken a shine to you. I haven't seen her
interested in a man since she came to live with Hob Bigelow."

"She must have been interested enough in
Taylor Cramer to agree to marry him."

Rusty crammed his head back on his head.
"Yeah, well, I ain't so sure about that. Watch your manners up
there. Miz Lacey is a lady."

Sam rolled his eyes. He knew Lacey better
than anyone. She was a lady, all right, a lady without a heart.

Lacey paced restlessly, pausing every so
often to look out the window. Sam wouldn't really come, would he?
Inviting himself for supper took nerve, but this new Sam had nerve
in abundance. What would Rusty and the hands think? She'd never
invited a ranch hand to take a meal at the big house before. To her
knowledge, neither had Uncle Hob, except for Rusty, and he was more
of a friend than a foreman.

Perhaps she should feed Andy first. Get him
out of the way so Sam wouldn't hurt him. Yes, that's what she'd do.
She started toward the kitchen. Rita met her in the doorway.

"Senor Sam is here, Senora. He came in the
back door. Shall I show him to the parlor?"

Sam pushed past the rotund little woman,
which was no easy feat. "Don't bother, Rita. I'm already here."

"Si, Senor. Supper is ready. I'll call
Andy."

"Here I am, Rita," Andy said, darting into
the room. "I hope we have chocolate cake for dessert."

"Si, it is what you ordered, is it not?"

"You spoil him, Rita," Lacey said,
smiling.

"Take your mother's other arm, Andy, we'll
both take her in to supper."

Eyes shining, Andy offered his arm to
Lacey.

"Are you eating with us, Sam?"

"Do you mind?"

He sent Lacey a wary look. "Not if Mama don't
mind."

Lacey fumed in silent fury. There was little
she could say with Andy around.

They reached the dining room and Lacey seated
herself at the head of the table, settling her skirts around her.
Sam slid into the chair on her left and Andy sat in his usual spot
on her right. Rita entered almost immediately with platters of
roast beef, browned potatoes, peas, mixed greens and fresh
bread.

They ate in silence. Lacey toyed with her
food, refraining from starting a conversation for fear of what Sam
would say in front of Andy.

"I'm done, Mama," Andy said, showing Lacey
his empty plate. "Can I have my cake now?"

Rita entered as if on cue with three thick
portions of dark chocolate cake.

"Chocolate cake is one of my favorites,
Andy," Sam said, eyeing the cake with appreciation.

Lacey said nothing. Each time Sam spoke to
Andy her heart broke a little. Andy needed a father but Sam didn't
fit the bill. There was too much anger inside him. All she wanted
was to get Sam out of her life before he spoiled things for her and
Taylor.

Taylor! She had yet to tell him that her
husband was alive and she didn't look forward to it. Then again,
perhaps Taylor could help her obtain a speedy divorce.

Andy yawned hugely and set down his fork.
"I'm full, Mama."

"You're tired, too, honey. Go on up and get
ready for bed. I'll come up later and tuck you in."

Andy slid down from his chair. He planted a
wet kiss on Lacey's mouth, then run over to Sam. "Put your head
down a minute, Sam," he said shyly.

Lacey groaned when she became aware of Andy's
intention and tried to head it off. "Don't bother Sam, honey."

But Sam had already lowered his head. Lacey
could tell by his puzzled look that he had no idea what Andy
intended. He appeared startled when Andy stood on his toes and
placed a smacking kiss on his cheek.

"G'night, Sam. I'm glad Mama invited you to
supper. It's better than when mean old Cramer eats with us. He
always tells me to mind my manners."

"I think your manners are just fine, Andy.
Good night."

Andy skipped from the room.

"Thank you for not saying anything to hurt
Andy," Lacey said grudgingly.

"I'm no monster, Lacey. Andy has nothing to
do with you and me. He's caught in the middle. He dislikes your
Taylor Cramer, you know."

"I know, but he's only a child. He'd dislike
anyone he thought was stealing his mama."

"He doesn't appear to dislike me."

"He thinks of you as a ranch hand. Andy
befriends all the hands. Ask anyone. He has no reason to be jealous
of you."

"I think you're wrong, Lacey. But Andy isn't
my responsibility, is he? I have no reason to see to his happiness.
Fortunately for Andy, I have no intention of divorcing you, so the
lad doesn't have to worry about Taylor now, does he?"

Lacey had just about all she could take from
Sam. In six years Sam had gone from a sweet young man to an
arrogant tyrant. She rose with as much dignity as she could muster
and slapped her napkin down on the table. "It's time..."

"Would you like coffee in the parlor,
Senora?"

Rita stood in the doorway, an expectant look
on her round face.

"No, I..."

"Coffee sounds wonderful," Sam interjected
before Lacey could finish her reply. "The parlor is fine."

"How dare you!" Lacey hissed once Rita left.
"This is my home."

"And I'm your husband," Sam drawled, grasping
Lacey's elbow and drawing her into the parlor.

He stopped before the sofa, but instead of
letting her sit, he gripped her upper arm with his other hand and
drew her against him. A frisson of fear slid down Lacey's spine. He
was staring into her eyes, his face so close she could feel his
breath ripple across her cheek. She blinked, breaking contact, but
when she opened her eyes again he was still staring at her.

"What! What is it?"

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "More
beautiful than I remembered." His gaze lowered to her breasts. "I
don't recall you being so well-endowed, either. The years have been
kind to you."

"I was but seventeen when we married. Women
do mature and change over the years. You've changed, too."

His gaze returned to her face. "How so?"

She hesitated a moment then said, "You're
harder, colder, more in control of yourself. You've matured, too.
Your body is..." Her words fell off, unable to force compliments
papast her lips. And they would be compliments, for Sam's body was
now a man's body. In youth he had been lean and lithe, now he was
muscular and magnificent.

She turned her gaze away, but Sam would have
none of it. He lifted her chin and lowered his head. A startled cry
slipped past her throat when his lips touched hers. Oh, God, she
couldn't stand this. Not again. Not when she'd learned to live
without Sam. Allowing him to hurt her again would destroy her.

The first touch of his mouth was feather
light, a mere whisper of sensation against her lips. Her breath
caught. Then he deepened the kiss, sliding his mouth back and
fourth against hers. The sweet, titillating friction tilted her
world. What happened next totally undid her. Suddenly Sam's lips
became hard, demanding, his tongue a dagger that probed ruthlessly
into her mouth. Seeking, searching, as if starved for the taste of
her.