as Barret looked up at her with his suave, cultivated smile. His stomach churned as Barret stood up and whispered into Lacey’s ear before paying his bill, his hand lingering on hers a second too long.
He hadn’t needed that display to realize Lacey was out of her depth here. Lacey was too naive, too sincere. She wasn’t experienced with the divergent personalities frequenting Sadie’s establishment—just as Sadie’s customers weren’t accustomed to a person like Lacey.
Nor was Lacey accustomed to or deserving of the type of treatment she was subjected to by them. He had heard the occasional complaints if the food took too long in reaching the table, the demands that kept Lacey running. He had noted the assumptions about her instinctively friendly manner. One misguided cowhand had actually whistled to get her attention! True, Lacey seemed to handle it all gracefully, but it galled him.
As Scully watched, a young cowpoke summoned Lacey back to his table for the fourth time, smiling broadly. Obviously intent on impressing her, he joked and teased until Sadie called her away with a flimsy excuse. He saw the table of cowboys seated nearby whisper as Lacey passed, then laugh aloud. He noted the glances two matrons seated nearby exchanged when their husbands followed Lacey’s progress across the room with more than common interest, and he observed with growing heat the drummer who called Lacey to his table, then pressed a coin into her hand with a wink. If that man thought he could buy his way into Lacey’s affections—
“Say now, what does a fella have to do in here to get some service?” Scully’s rioting thoughts were interrupted by the loud complaint of an unshaven cowpoke who stood up unsteadily at his table and slurred, “I’ve been waiting an hour in here, Sadie. Ain’t your new girl going to wait on me? I’m a good customer!”
Scully tensed. Everyone in the restaurant knew Jud Hall had walked through the doorway only a few minutes previously, just as everyone knew Jud was trouble. He knew, because he had tossed the drunken cowpoke out of his saloon on too many occasions to count.
Tensing, Scully watched as Lacey approached Jud, her face hot. He saw Jud’s face change as she drew closer. He didn’t like what Jud was obviously thinking when Lacey said, “What would you like Sadie to make for you this morning?”
A leering Jud answered, “Maybe I don’t want Sadie to make nothin’ for me this morning, darlin’. Maybe I want you to cook me my breakfast.”
Interrupting from her place beside the stove, Sadie called out, “I’m the cook in this restaurant, Jud. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
“Maybe I don’t want to leave.” His leer turning aggressive, Jud continued, “Maybe I want this girlie here to—”
Scully was on his feet in a flash. Gripping Jud by the back of the neck, he paid no attention to the chairs that scraped out of his way and the customers who dodged Jud’s flailing arms and legs as he propelled him toward the door. He waited deliberately until Jud hit the street with a thud before walking back into the restaurant and closing the door behind him. He did not look at Lacey as he slapped his coin down beside his uneaten breakfast, then walked over to her and said in a voice meant for her ears alone, “When you finish up work here today, tell Sadie you’re not coming back.”
Lacey looked up at him, her face red.
“Tell her.”
He did not wait for Lacey’s response as he walked out the door.
Barret observed the scene from the street.
A saloonkeeper protecting the virtue of a prospector’s granddaughter.
How quaint.
How noble.
How stupid.
But it told him something. He had been right in everything he had been thinking. Scully was totally taken in by Lacey’s pretended innocence.
Barret watched as Scully exited the restaurant. Scully’s involvement with Lacey complicated an already difficult situation. He need tread lightly in dealing with Lacey because of Scully, and Lacey would need to tread just as lightly if she expected to claim her grandfather’s strike without her unwanted protector following at her heels.
Barret considered that thought. It appeared he could be in for a long siege.
Unless…
Barret frowned.
Unless he could find a better way.
Lacey walked across the saloon floor toward the staircase to the second floor where her room awaited her. It had been a difficult morning at the restaurant—the most trying so far because of the incident with Jud Hall and Scully. She recalled the silence that had followed Scully’s departure from the restaurant, then the gradual hum of speculative conversation that had ensued. She was glad it was over. She was anxious to reach the silence of her room, but she knew she would first meet another brief, revealing silence—the one her appearance always elicited when she walked through the saloon doors.
Lacey knew that silence was one of the reasons Scully was so adamant about her taking a room at Mary McInnes’s boarding house. She also knew it was the reason he had arranged for the dilapidated outside entrance to the saloon’s second floor, previously unusable, to be repaired.
Lacey nodded at a few familiar faces in passing, then climbed the staircase, head high. She would be glad when the outer staircase was finished, actually more for Scully’s sake than her own. It would relieve some of his stress. Yet she knew Scully would not be truly satisfied until she had severed all connection with the saloon and its patrons.
Lacey considered that possibility seriously for the first time. Her room above the Gold Nugget was the only home that remained for her. It was her haven. It was the place where she had recuperated from the most traumatic experience of her life. In it, she had known she was safe because Scully was nearby. She felt the same way now, but she was becoming acutely aware of the disservice she did to Scully in insisting that she stay.
Gasping with surprise when Scully stepped unexpectedly into sight at the top of the stairs, Lacey did not protest when he took her arm and said with an expression that suffered no protest, “I need to talk to you.”
Lacey turned toward Scully when he ushered her into her room, leaving the door ajar as he turned toward her to ask, “Did you tell Sadie you won’t be back to work at the restaurant again?” “No.”
Scully did not look pleased.
“I’m not going to quit, Scully.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Scully’s chest began an angry heaving. He said tightly, “You tried and did your best, but working at the restaurant was a bad idea in the first place.”
“It isn’t.”
“You saw what happened this morning.”
“I could’ve handled it, Scully.”
“Really.”
“I could have! Sadie warned me about Jud. He causes trouble every now and then,
