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down in a swallow. So maybe he'd try that. As he left
the house, the look in his eyes was as grim as rain, as hopeless as dead
flowers on a grave.
     
    Chapter Two
     
    Lacy sat down heavily in the wing chair, still
reeling from her demands and Cole's reluctant agreement to them. She'd been
bluffing, but fortunately he didn't know that. Imagine, she thought, shy little
Lacy Jarrett actually winning one over Coleman Whitehall. The gin had helped,
of course. She still wasn't used to it, and it had gone to her head. Also, she
mused, to her tongue.
    Back in the old days, she would have been too
shy to even speak to him. Her eyes closed and she drifted back to those first,
nerve-wracking days at Spanish Flats following the death of her parents.
    Katy had been welcoming, like Marion and Ben.
But Cole had been formal, distant, and almost hostile to her. She'd made a
habit of keeping out of his way, so quiet when he was at the table for meals
that she seemed invisible. It didn't help that she started falling in love with
him almost at once.
    There had been rare times when he was less
antagonistic. Once, he'd helped her save a kitten from a stray dog. He'd placed
the tiny thing in her hands and his eyes had held hers for so long that she
blushed furiously and was only able to stammer her thanks. When she'd gotten
sick from being out in the sun without her bonnet, it was Cole who'd carried
her inside to her bed, who'd hovered despite Marion and Katy's ministrations
until he was certain that she was all right. Occasionally he'd been home when
Lacy went for the quiet walks she enjoyed so much, and he'd fallen into step
beside her, pointing out crops and explaining the cattle business to her.
Eventually she lost much of her fear of him, but he disturbed her so much when
he came close that she couldn't quite hide it.
    Her reactions seemed to make him irritable, as
if he didn't understand that it was physical attraction and not fear that
caused them. Cole didn't go to parties, and Lacy had never known him to keep
company with a woman. He worked from dawn until well after dark, overseeing
every phase of ranch operation, even keeping the books and handling the
mounting paperwork. He had a good business head, but he also had all the
responsibility. It didn't leave much time for recreation.
    The blow came when war broke out in Europe. Everyone was sure that America would eventually become involved, and Lacy found
herself worrying constantly that Cole would have to go. He was young and strong
and patriotic. Even if he weren't called up, it was inevitable that he would
volunteer. His conversation about the news items in the papers told her that.
    Aviation, the new science, was one of his
consuming interests. He talked about airplanes as some boys talked about girls.
He read everything he could find on the subject. Lacy was his only willing
audience, soaking up the information he imparted enthusiastically —even while
she prayed that the flying fever wouldn't take him over to France, where American boys were flocking to join the Lafayette Escadrille.
    But America's entry into the war in April, 1917,
smashed Lacy's dreams. Cole enlisted and requested service with the fledgling
Army Air Service. He'd wanted to volunteer for the famous Lafayette Escadrille
a year earlier, along with other American pilots attached to the French Flying
Corps. But the death of his father and the weight of responsibility for his mother
and sister and brother—not to mention Lacy—put paid to that idea. However, when
President Wilson announced American participation in the war, Cole immediately
signed up. He found neighbors willing to handle ranch chores for him while his
mother and Lacy assumed the duty of keeping the books, and Cole packed to leave
for France.
    He and Lacy had begun to enjoy a closer
relationship, even if it was still tense and tentative. But the knowledge that
he was going to war and might never come back had a devastating effect on
Lacy's pride. She