Taylor wasn't certain if she should be insulted or not. She opened her mouth to ask the Texan if women were often referred to as horses in America, but she never got the question out. Lucas put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed.
The message was distinct. She was supposed to keep quiet. Taylor decided to act subservient for the time being. God help Lucas Ross when they were alone. She would give him a piece of her mind then, she thought to herself, for being so high-handed in public. She pictured herself giving him a sound kick, and even though she knew she'd never do such an unladylike thing, the fantasy still made her smile.
"She's my wife." Lucas made the announcement with a good deal of possessiveness in his voice. Odd, but he didn't grimace when he said the word wife. In truth, it sounded almost pleasant to him. Almost.
"She ain't wearing a ring." Another Texan made that remark and was staring at Taylor suspiciously. He was acting as though Lucas and she were trying to play some clever trick on him. His attitude didn't make a bit of sense to Taylor.
"Ring or not, she's still Mrs. Ross," Lucas said.
"Ross? Well now, she didn't call herself Ross," the first Texan pointed out.
Taylor's eyes widened. She almost laughed over her own error. "I forgot," she blurted out. "We are newly married," she hastily added.
They didn't look like they believed her. She let out a sigh, shrugged away from Lucas, and then moved to his side. She kept her gaze on her audience.
"Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my husband, Mr. Lucas Ross."
What happened next so surprised Taylor, she couldn't hide her astonishment. The eldest of the Texans squinted at Lucas and then whispered in what could only be interpreted as awe, "The Lucas Ross from Montana Territory?"
Lucas gave a quick nod. Then he started to back away. Taylor looked up and saw his expression had changed dramatically. He looked wary now and horribly uncomfortable. She was intrigued by the change in him. She felt the sudden need to save him, yet couldn't imagine what exactly she was saving him from.
"The Lucas Ross?" The gentleman from the valley in Ohio asked the question in a stammer of disbelief.
Lucas sighed. "Yes."
Taylor didn't think grown men were given to gasping, but these men did. She was all but forgotten from that moment on. The men surged forward. She got out of their way in the nick of time, for she would surely have been flattened against the statue by the eager crowd if she hadn't moved quickly. The men surrounded Lucas on all sides. Everyone was talking at once. They wanted to shake his hand and pound him on his back.
The Texans were the most effusive in their admiration. "If that don't beat all," the eldest of the cousins kept repeating.
Word that Lucas Ross was in the lobby of the
Hamilton House spread like free whiskey, and within minutes, most of the gentlemen inside the lobby had joined the group of adoring fans. They all wanted to meet the legend.
Taylor was flabbergasted. She heard the words hero and legend over and over again, and because the gentleman from Boston mentioned the war when he gave his praise, she naturally assumed Lucas had won his reputation during the time of the dispute between the North and the South. She was familiar with both the cause and the outcome of the war, of course. She'd read everything she could get her hands on about the division of the country. Odd, she didn't remember reading anything about Lucas Ross.
Taylor stood there watching Lucas and his enthusiastic admirers for a good fifteen minutes. Her husband was easy to keep track of, as he was the tallest man in the lobby. He was keeping his eye on her as well, she noticed, for every now and then he would glance over to make certain she was still there.
He didn't look very happy about all the attention he was receiving. He didn't like anyone standing behind his back either. Taylor came to that conclusion when she noticed how he slowly negotiated his way over to stand directly in front of the marble statue. He seemed determined to protect his back, just like all the famous gunfighters liked to do, or so Taylor had read in one of her countless dime novels.
One thought jumped to another. Good God, was Lucas a gunfighter? Is that how he gained his reputation? Taylor discarded the notion the second it popped into her mind. No, of course he wasn't. He was temperamental and surly natured, but he wasn't a killer. Taylor's conclusions weren't based solely on instinct. Madam had done a thorough investigation into Lucas's background, and although she hadn't had the time or the inclination to share the information she'd gathered with her granddaughter, Taylor knew in her heart that her grandmother would never have insisted she marry the man if he hadn't proven to be honorable and courageous and noble.
There was also the undisputed fact that all gunfighters went looking for trouble. The stories she'd read about Ornery Eddie of Wolkum Junction had confirmed that truth. Eddie always wanted to fight. According to the tales, the gunfighter prided himself on the fact that he would always shoot someone dead within ten minutes after arriving in a new town. Oh, yes, gunfighters went looking for trouble. Ornery Eddie was just one example of that rule, but there were at least a hundred others written down in the dime novels.
Lucas was the complete opposite in attitude. He wanted solitude and wide-open spaces. She remembered he'd been quite specific when he told her he no longer liked living in Redemption because the two-block-wide town was becoming too crowded. He hated being penned in.
He apparently hated crowds, too. His expression told her so. The look he was now giving her indicated he somehow held her responsible for making him the center of attention.
She didn't want to accept the blame. She hadn't had anything to do with making him a legend. No, of course she hadn't. If the man had bothered to mention he was such a celebrity, she wouldn't have introduced him.
His discomfort was all his own fault. She still felt guilty. She was going to have to save him anyway. She let out a sigh, then nudged her way through the throng of men. When she reached Lucas, she took hold of his hand. In a rather loud voice, she announced that they were going to be late for an important meeting if they didn't leave immediately.
"You shouldn't be going to meetings on your honeymoon," one of the Texans declared in his slow drawl.
"They're newly married?" A gentleman she hadn't met before asked the question.
Someone in the crowd shouted, "If that don't beat all." Because Taylor had already heard that colorful, but illogical remark before, she assumed it was some sort of popular American slang. She filed the saying away for future use.
"He got himself hitched all right," another said.
A round of hearty congratulations followed the confirmation. There was more pounding on Lucas's back, though one eager gentleman's aim was off and he accidentally whacked Taylor squarely between her shoulder blades. She was kept from being thrown forward by her husband. He tightened his hold on her, frowned at the offender, and started to edge his way through the crowd.
The men finally let them alone. Lucas had dragged Taylor halfway across the lobby before she protested. "You may lessen your hold on me, sir, and do quit frowning. People will think we aren't happily married."
Lucas ignored both suggestions. Taylor looked up at him and matched his frown. She decided to give exactly what she was getting. "You're a very moody individual," she announced in a low whisper so her criticism wouldn't be overheard.
"I didn't used to be," he responded.
"Do you mean to say you used to be pleasant?"
"Yes."
She almost snorted with disbelief but stopped herself in time. "When?" she asked.
"When I wasn't married."
She tried not to take offense. "You're blaming me for the chaos back there, aren't you?" She didn't give him time to answer. "I wouldn't have introduced you to those gentlemen if you'd told me you were such a popular fellow."