Lacy: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Pendleton Petticoats Book 5)

  Pendleton Petticoats, Book 5

  A Sweet Historical Western Romance

  by

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  SHANNA HATFIELD

  Lacy

  Copyright © 2015 by Shanna Hatfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of "permission request” at the email address below or through her website.

  Shanna Hatfield

  shanna@shannahatfield.com

  shannahatfield.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Lacy (Pendleton Petticoats, Book 5) is a sweet historical western romance set in the town of Pendleton, Oregon at the turn of the century. Cowboys and Indians, outlaws and lawmen, strong women, painted ladies, orphans, and Chinese immigrants comprise the colorful cast of characters.

  Find all of Shanna’s books on Amazon!

  To those who

  look beyond the surface

  and see with their hearts.

  Chapter One

  1906

  Pendleton, Oregon

  A blast of arctic wind crackled down the sidewalk, whipping frigid currents in its wake. All but the most determined or foolhardy scurried indoors, out of the glacial air.

  Grant Hill turned up the collar of his wool coat and tugged down his hat in a futile attempt to defray the cold breeze bent on circling his neck with icy fingers.

  Despite the pain it inflicted on his lungs, he sucked in a deep breath and set a vigorous pace as he headed toward the Pendleton Bank and Trust.

  Gone longer than he anticipated, Grant assumed his assistant could handle a random customer or two until he returned to the bank. Anyone with a lick of intelligence remained huddled next to a warm fire rather than traipsing about in the nearly unbearable January weather.

  Ol’ Marvin Tooley swore up and down they were in for a blizzard when he visited the bank the other day. The temperatures continued to hover in the single digits, yet they hadn’t seen a speck of snow. If the wintry spell continued, Grant hoped the insulation he’d wrapped around the pipes at his house would keep his indoor plumbing from freezing again. When a cold snap froze all the house pipes the previous winter, he’d spent two months hauling water from the pump in his barn to the house. At least the pipes hadn’t burst.

  Grant counted that as a blessing as he took his morning stroll around town to clear his head and stretch his legs. After a decade spent managing the bank, he should be accustomed to the tedious hours of sitting behind a desk. Instead, he grew increasingly restless and antsy.

  He longed for… what he wasn’t exactly certain. Something just beyond his grasp, beyond his ability to comprehend.

  What he really needed was a woman.

  In particular, a wife.

  Short on both satisfactory prospects and patience, he’d about given up on finding one.

  Perhaps it was his lot in life to remain unwed. Not everyone needed to experience the wonder of wedded bliss. However, the happy marriages of his close friends highlighted his pitiful, single existence.

  Any number of unwed women, and a few who were married, would eagerly jump at the opportunity to become his bride. If he opened the door to the mercantile on a busy day and asked if someone wanted to marry him at that precise moment, a dozen females would stampede anyone blocking the path in their haste to get to the church.

  Nonetheless, the majority of available women he encountered held little fondness for him. Their focus centered on his big house, healthy bank account, and respected position in the community.

  He needed a woman who looked beyond his material success and liked him for the person he’d become. He wanted a woman so fiercely in love with him, she would move heaven and earth to be by his side. He dreamed of a woman who made him laugh, cherished his affection, and offered him unbridled passion.

  While he waited for a wagon to pass so he could cross the street, Grant rubbed his gloved hands together. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his gaze to his favorite restaurant across the street. Deputy Kade Rawlings herded his twin sons to the door. The lawman raised his hand in a friendly salutation to Grant before disappearing inside his wife’s Italian eatery.

  The fiery Italian woman captured Grant’s attention when she first arrived in Pendleton from New York. He considered courting her, but before he quite knew what had transpired, she’d married the brawny deputy.

  Despite his disappointment, Grant wasn’t in love with Caterina. It was easy enough to turn his attention elsewhere.

  Briefly, he’d entertained the notion of pursuing lovely Ilsa Thorsen when she moved to Pendleton. Cultured, petite, soft-spoken, and dainty, she would have won the approval of Grant’s contrary mother. Unfortunately, Caterina’s brother, Tony Campanelli, swept the little beauty off her feet and down the aisle.

  Grant mulled over his lost opportunities for love as he crossed the street and walked past Ilsa’s dress shop. She and Marnie Jones, now Marnie Thorsen, installed a new display in the large front window with the help of Ilsa’s sister, Aundy. The women waved to him, offering cheery smiles that brightened his day. He grinned at the trio, tipped his hat, and continued on his way.

  Aundy was every bit as tall as Grant and had an independent streak wider than the Umatilla River that flowed through town. She arrived in Pendleton as a mail-order bride to one of his best customers, but the poor man died a few days after their wedding. While Grant respectfully observed a proper period of mourning before calling on the widow, she’d fallen in love with her neighbor, Garrett Nash.

  If the two of them weren’t so well suited to each other and Garrett wasn’t such a good friend, Grant might have been upset by losing out on another chance to find a proper wife.

  At one time, he’d even considering courting Marnie, a past employee of the most notorious madam in Pendleton. The girl straightened out her life and went to work for Ilsa. As luck would have it, she’d already fallen in love with Ilsa and Aundy’s brother, Lars, prior to Grant’s interest in her.

  In hindsight, it was probably best Marnie had married Lars. Regardless of her keen intellect and fine manners, Grant’s mother would never have come to terms with a former harlot as a daughter-in-law. Not that he kowtowed to his mother’s every demand, but the woman did live with him part of the year.

  Admittedly, Grant didn’t think he could put up with a wife as temperamental as Caterina or with the stubborn independence of Aundy and Ilsa.

  No, he wanted a gentle wife. A submissive wife. A meek and mild wife.

  Balderdash! Who was he kidding?

  He’d take a screeching banshee shaped like a walrus for a wife if she looked at him with even a smidgen of adoration in her eyes in place of the greed he so often saw in the fairer sex.

  The sigh Grant expelled turned into frosty crystals as he hunkered down into his coat, grateful for the warmth it provided. On days like today, with a dark gloomy sky overhead, he wanted to cast aside his respo
nsibilities, mount his horse, and ride into the hills.

  In lieu of giving in to his whim, he quickened his step and hastened around the corner, right into a soft, feminine form.

  Quickly reaching out, he grasped the woman’s arms in his hands, keeping her from falling to the sidewalk.

  “I’m terribly sorry, miss. Are you injured?” Grant continued to hold onto the woman’s elbows as she gained her footing and caught the breath he’d knocked out of her.

  Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

  Grant admired the abundance of black hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head. The simple knot contrasted sharply to the elaborate, poufy styles popular with most of the women he knew.

  “My sincere apologies. May I escort you somewhere? Offer my assistance in some way?”

  She shook her head again and stepped back.

  Rather than relinquish his hold, Grant took a moment to study the woman. She was of medium height, wore no hat, and had a black shawl draped around her narrow shoulders. Neat and respectable, her dark blue blouse and wool skirt did little to stave off the cold. Even through his gloves, he felt her shiver.

  He experienced the most unreasonable longing to pull her against his chest and wrap his arms around her.

  Unsettled by his thoughts, Grant released her elbows, hoping she’d at least lift her chin high enough he could see her face. “Again, my apologies. Generally, I pay some attention to where I’m going but this cold wind must have siphoned the sense right out of my head.”

  The woman raised her face and smiled. “The wind reminds us old man winter is in charge of the season, full of bluster and bravado.”

  Immediately drawn to her beauty, Grant took in her dark eyes, high cheekbones, and bronzed skin. He wondered if the woman lived on the nearby Umatilla Indian Reservation with a husband. She certainly appeared of a marriageable age.

  Something primitive and painful twisted in his gut at the thought of her belonging to another.

  Surprised by the smooth cadence of her voice as well as his reaction to her, Grant returned her smile. “I wouldn’t mind if the old man decided he’d blustered enough today and returned another time. Next year would be soon enough to suit me.”

  A laugh that put Grant in mind of summer sunshine, full of warmth and light, fell on his ears while his heart skipped a beat, then two.

  Mindful of the woman’s thoroughly chilled state, Grant hesitated to keep her in the cold any longer, yet he didn’t want to walk away so soon after meeting her.

  Politely tipping his hat to her, he summoned a charming smile. “To compensate for my carelessness, may I please escort you to your destination, Mrs.…?” He paused, hoping she’d share her name.

  “Williams.” The woman’s eyes snapped and sparkled with lively awareness. “Miss Lacy Williams.”

  “Miss Williams. I’m Grant Hill, at your service.” He executed a gallant bow, earning a delighted smile. “Do you live here in town?”

  She took another step back and again shook her head.

  Concerned, Grant frowned. “Surely, you don’t plan to travel back to the reservation in this chilly wind.”

  “I’m in town on business. As soon as it’s completed, I’ll return home.” Lacy took another step away from him and wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Hill.”

  “Likewise, Miss Williams. I would be more than happy to…”

  Lacy ducked her head and turned away, hurrying down the sidewalk and around the corner.

  Although everything in Grant urged him to follow the woman, he crossed the street and entered the bank.

  Loren Miller, his assistant, glanced up from where he helped a customer at the bank window. He nodded his head in greeting.

  Grant removed his outerwear then stoked the stove in the center of the bank, holding his hands out to the warmth. He should have insisted Miss Williams come with him and at least warm herself before she continued with her errands.

  For a moment, he considered going back out to find her, but then thought better of it. It was ridiculous to feel so attached to a girl he’d just met, no matter how lovely and enchanting she appeared.

  He just hoped she didn’t freeze to death before she made it home.

  Lacy Williams dashed around the corner and leaned against the brick wall of the building.

  Frantic to gather her wits and her nerve, she smoothed a hand over her hair, making sure none of the hairpins had slipped when the banker almost knocked her down.

  The skin on her elbows where he’d held her upright still tingled from his touch. Although she’d never met the man in person, she knew who he was and had admired him from afar. He was even more handsome up close than she imagined.

  Hazel eyes rimmed with dark lashes had looked at her so intently, she was sure he peered right into her soul. When he smiled, her heart beat as swiftly as the pounding hooves of the horses that ran wild and free on the reservation.

  Her grandmother Rebecca held a special affection for Tony Campanelli and his friends. That particular circle included the Nash family, Deputy Rawlings and his family, and Grant Hill.

  During the summer months, Tony delivered ice to the reservation, free of charge. He sometimes brought special treats out for the children, like an entire jar of licorice whips. In the months when no one wanted ice, Tony took beautiful photographs. In fact, a photo of Lacy’s sister, Ruth, hung in Tony’s studio. Rebecca had proudly shown it to her after Tony put it on display.

  Lacy liked Tony, Ilsa, and the people in their group. She sometimes wished she could join in their lighthearted fun and teasing. The few times she’d tried, her father had chastised her for her foolishness and cautioned her about melding to the “ways of the white man.”

  It was a good thing her father worked at her uncle’s ranch today or he would have forbidden her from riding into town.

  While Uncle Charlie embraced the changes that came his way and thrived, Lacy’s father fought against each one. Joe Williams was a good man, an honorable man, but he was a man mired in the past without much hope for the future.

  Due to his emphatic refusal to move into the new century and a new way of life, Lacy’s family often struggled to make ends meet. Tired of being cold and hungry, Lacy decided to take matters into her own hands. If she could get a job in town, the money she earned would go a long way toward easing their financial burdens.

  Lacy willed her trembling limbs to still. Grant’s presence, not the freezing temperatures, sent shivers racking through her. The only male beyond her family who had dared touch a hand to her was Phillip Redhawk, the man her father insisted she marry.

  With enough on her mind already, she forcefully shoved aside thoughts of Phillip and Grant Hill.

  Purposeful, she inhaled a calming breath. The scent of Grant’s shaving lotion lingered in her nose. Irritated by her attraction to a man who would never give her a second glance much less the time of day, she straightened her spine. Briskly marching around the corner, she rushed down the street to the telephone office.

  Resolved to acquiring a job, she’d refused to go home until she secured one. Lacy hoped she wouldn’t need to resort to seeking employment at some of the questionable business establishments she’d heard her older brother discuss with his friends. The last place she wanted to end up was working in the Underground in one of the shops, or worse, as one of the saloon girls.

  She’d already tried the drugstore, the bakery, the stationery store, and the mercantile with no luck. Mr. Johnson at the mercantile was incredibly kind. He suggested she apply for a position at the telephone office, since they were short handed.

  Outside the door of the telephone office, she pasted on a friendly smile, bolstered her confidence, and then stepped inside.

  Three harried women who appeared to be close to her age sat in front of a switchboard with cables crisscrossing each other like a deranged spider’s web.

  Lights flickered on the switchboard and the women answere
d calls. “Hello, Pendleton Central. Number please.”

  Impressed and a little in awe as the women rapidly answered calls and made connections, she waited patiently to make her presence known. She watched as they plugged in cables that appeared to be a random jumble.

  One of the operators turned to pick up a piece of paper that fell to the floor and noticed Lacy near the door. She motioned for her to step up to a counter and answered two more calls before yanking off her headset and rushing over.

  “May I help you?” The woman offered her a warm smile.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d like to apply for a position as a telephone operator. Mr. Johnson at the mercantile indicated you were hiring.” Lacy maintained the proper posture she’d learned at school and from her cousins.

  “Do you have any previous experience?” The woman studied her from the top of her dark head to the hem of her skirt. Lacy wanted to fidget under the direct gaze, but stood perfectly still.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t, but I am a fast learner and a hard worker.” Lacy handed the woman an envelope. “I have letters of recommendation.”

  The woman opened the envelope and scanned through the letters. She tucked the pages back inside and handed the envelope to Lacy. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  Lacy grinned. “Yes, ma’am!”

  The woman smiled again and pointed to the two other women operating the switchboard. “That’s Bertie Hawkins and Susan Smith. I’m Millie Matlock. Be here at eight in the morning and I’ll put you right to work.”

  Millie hurried over to a desk and jotted a note then handed it to Lacy. “That’s what you’ll earn. For now, you’ll work the day shift.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Lacy offered a small curtsey and tipped her head.

  “Millie. Call me Millie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here.” Lacy smiled at her new employer then hurried outside into the cold. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. A day that had started out quite badly suddenly seemed much, much brighter. Not only was she employed, she’d met an unforgettable man.