“At lest my Zeke, God rest his soul, was a hard worker,” said Mrs. Johnson, her tone taking on a musing quality. “Not that it mattered. He died anyway, leaving his wife and children to fend for themselves. Which pretty much tells you exactly how much good a man is in your life, if you ask me.”
“I suppose so.”
“Nicky Taggart, now, he’s another hard worker. And I have a feeling he’s smarter than my Zeke, God rest his soul.”
“Oh?” Eulalie’s attention fixed on her companion.
“Yup. He’s been through a lot, and I ‘spect that if he ever gets himself attached to a female permanently, he’ll be sure she’s taken care of if anything ever happens to him.”
“Really?” Eulalie didn’t want to seem too interested, but lately whenever anyone mentioned Nick’s name, she was all ears.
“Yep. He’s a good man, Nick. Had a rough time with his step-ma, and she kinda colored his attitude toward women, but he’s still a good man. Can’t seem to help himself.” She chuckled.
Fascinating. Eulalie would have liked to press Mrs. Johnson further, but didn’t want to be perceived as too interested in Nick Taggart. Not that the whole town didn’t know what was going on between them—even if it hadn’t technically started yet—but even out here on the frontier, appearances seemed to matter. Eulalie didn’t think she’d ever understand the human race.
But Patsy would be here the day after tomorrow, and she could hardly wait to see her. When Eulalie had left Chicago, Patsy had been in bad shape and Eulalie had not wanted to leave her. But Patsy had begged her to find a safe place for them to live. So she’d done it, worrying the entire time. Patsy’s recent letters made the decision seem like a sound one and eased Eulalie’s mind a good deal. It was a shame about the scarring, though. Gilbert Blankenship deserved to die a slow, painful death for what he’d done to Patsy, and Eulalie wished she could watch it being administered.
Nick and Junius had provided her new home with an old stove that Nick had salvaged from an abandoned cabin, as well as a kitchen table and some chairs he’d built using wood left over from framing the house. Eulalie couldn’t recall ever knowing two such clever and handy men as Nick and Junius Taggart. And she couldn’t chalk up their expertise merely to the fact that they lived in the wild and woolly west, either. She had a feeling that her uncle Harry, for example, could never have built a kitchen table and chairs, even if he were forced to exist in the wild. Not that Harry wasn’t smart as the proverbial whip, but his expertise lay in cerebration rather than manual labor. And talk. Harry could out-talk a parrot once he got started. It amused Eulalie to mentally picture Harry and Junius telling tales to each other. They’d keep each other amused for a century or more.
As she watched Nick and Junius carry in a table, Eulalie’s eyes feasted on Nick’s bulging muscles, and indelicate visions supplanted the images of Harry and Junius chatting. Even though she’d been busy all day long, furnishing her new home, Eulalie had been unable to thrust the vision of Nick Taggart in her bed out of her mind. In fact, the very word thrust made her cheeks heat up. Good heavens. She must really be a loose woman to be looking so forward to her carnal union with Nick.
Or perhaps she was only human. It was difficult to say, what with established attitudes about women and all. Eulalie had read a good deal, however, and it was her studied opinion that established attitudes were stupid. Women were human beings. They not only deserved the same rights men enjoyed, they deserved the same freedom to enjoy their sexuality, curse it.
She hoped she wasn’t just making excuses for what she was about to do with Nick.
But if she was, she decided defiantly, so what? Necessity was the mother of invention, after all, and Eulalie definitely needed Nick Taggart. So did Patsy. When Eulalie ran a list of the men she’d met in Rio Peñasco through her mind, she knew she’d selected the very most qualified candidate as protector of her body. And Patsy’s. And, curse it, since Eulalie was the one earning the money to support the both of them, she might as well enjoy what she had to pay for their protection!
She hadn’t quite convinced herself she was right by the time she kicked her last kick and left the stage for the final time that night. That, however, didn’t matter. Whether she was a fallen woman or not, tonight would be payment time, and she was looking forward to it.
“Need any help?” Nick asked, his tone provocative.
“No, thank you.” Eulalie might be anticipating what the night would bring her with uneasy pleasure, but she was also hungry. She vowed she wouldn’t eat too much at the chophouse.
“Sure?”
“Yes, thank you.” She’d probably be so nervous, she wouldn’t be able to eat anything at all.
* * * * *
She wasn’t. In fact, she tucked away fully half of Vernon’s evening steak, beans and biscuits. Nick finished up what she couldn’t eat.
Nick pushed away from the table and held out an arm for Eulalie. The twinkle in his eye should have been outlawed, Eulalie decided when she glanced up at him. To make up for his clearly pleasurable anticipation, she pasted on a stern expression and whispered, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“How come?”
“Because you’re embarrassing me.”
“Huh. You parade yourself danged near naked in front of every male in Rio Peñasco every damned night, and I’m embarrassing you? I don’t buy it.”
“I don’t care what you believe,” Eulalie snapped. “It’s the truth.”
“Huh.”
They hadn’t left the chophouse by the time the door swung open and Bernie Benson made one of his customary, swaggering entrances. Nick eyed him with disfavor. “Hell, Bernie, you should of took to the stage instead of the press.”
Bernie only grinned, his piggy eyes gleaming. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Nick. I have some exciting news for Rio Peñasco’s own precious cactus flower.” He swept her an elegant bow, almost mopping the floor with his hat.
Every time anybody compared her to a cactus flower, Eulalie thought of sharp, painful spines. Nevertheless, she knew better than to complain. It never did to upset a newspaperman. They wielded too much power. Therefore, she smiled one of her patented smiles at Bernie. “How do you do, Mr. Benson?”
“I’m fine, fine,” he said, plopping his hat back on his head. “I want you to see what I got in the mail today, all the way from Chicago, Illinois. Your fame is spreading like wildfire, Miss Gibb.”
Eulalie stifled an irritated retort. She didn’t want her fame to spread, curse it, especially not to Chicago or New York City. However, unless she wanted to explain her entire situation to the world, she didn’t dare let on. She said, “Is that so?” in a voice she hoped didn’t reveal her inner turmoil.
“Yes indeedy,” said Bernie happily. “Here’s a copy of the newspaper my friend H. L. May sent me from Chicago. My article about Rio Peñasco’s Cactus Flower has hit the big time, my dear.”
“She’s not your dear,” mumbled Nick unpleasantly.
Bernie only grinned some more. “H. L. sent an extra copy for you, Miss Gibb. He knew you’d want to see it.”
Eulalie took the paper between her gloved fingers. She wanted to rip it to shreds and jump up and down on the remains. “Thank you so much, Mr. Benson.”
“Now if you’ll excuse us, Bernie, I’m going to see Miss Gibb to her new home.”
“Ah, yes,” Bernie said. “That goes in the next article.”
“What does?” Nick demanded, frowning.
Eulalie’s heart leaped unpleasantly.
“Why, that the citizens of Rio Peñasco have built their favorite cactus flower a new home, of course.” He spread his chubby hands in the air, as if showing Nick and Eulalie the newspaper article he envisioned. “I can see it now. ‘Rough-and-ready community opens its heart to its beloved cactus flower. Using the materials available to them, uncle and nephew build a house for their songbird.”
Eulalie felt her brow wrinkle. “I … um … think you’re mixing your
metaphors, Mr. Benson.”
Bernie tapped his hat. “Well, that’s just the beginnings of an idea. I’ll also write about how the women in town have taken to you, Miss Gibb.” His eyes all but danced in their sockets. “And aren’t you singing in church now, too?”
“Well … yes, but no more than anyone else sings in church. We all sing. Hymns, you know.”
“Ah, but nobody else has a voice like yours,” said Bernie in a faraway voice, as if he were creating yet another article in his head.
Eulalie wished somebody else would move to town. Somebody already famous. Somebody to make Bernie’s attention veer away from her.
“And I hear your sister is coming to town, too, Miss Gibb. Is she an actress too?”
“She used to be,” Eulalie said cautiously.
“Give it a rest, Bernie. Miss Gibb is tired. She deserves to get a good night’s sleep after working so hard.”
To Eulalie’s great relief, Bernie acquiesced, stepping aside so Nick could guide Eulalie out of the chophouse. “That guy drives me nuts,” he muttered.
“I wish he didn’t take his duties so seriously,” Eulalie said, thinking of Patsy.
“Oh?” Eulalie felt Nick’s gaze on her. “Don’t you like being worshiped by Bernie Benson?” His tone mocked her.
Eulalie didn’t blame him a whole lot. If she’d met up with Bernie Benson when she lived in New York, she’d have adored all the free publicity. At the moment, publicity was the last thing she wanted. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”
She felt Nick shrug. “It’s good for the town, I reckon. Folks are coming to see you from all over the place.”
Oh, dear. Eulalie’s heart fell. “Are they really?”
“Yup. Every day, more fellows show up. Bernie’s spread the word far and wide about what he calls our cactus flower. I still think prickly pear is a better name for you.” She heard the grin in his voice.
“You would.”
They walked the rest of the way to Eulalie’s new house in silence. The moon was waning, but still fullish, and Eulalie was amazed by how clearly one could see under its benevolent light. The night she’d been attacked by those two drunken louts, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. This evening, she could clearly see to pick her way across the rocky ground to her home. Nick had even built a fence around the place, enclosing a whole bunch of dirt. But Eulalie didn’t despair. Mrs. Johnson said that grass could grow here if a body took care to plant it deep enough that the first heavy rainfall didn’t wash away all the seeds. Eulalie had dutifully sent away for a packet of grass seeds from Sears and Roebuck.
“Junius and I painted the place today,” Nick said, pushing the gate open for her. “We used whitewash, so it will dry fast. We’ll get some real paint as soon as we can.”
“I see. It looks very nice. I can’t thank you enough, Nick.”
“Yes you can,” he said, and Eulalie had no doubt what he meant.
She noticed that he and Junius had set out flat rocks from the gate to the front door. The notion of planting a few rosebushes along the walkway appealed to her. “That looks nice, Nick. You really outdid yourself.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promised her.
Eulalie was getting just a little tired of his innuendoes, although she guessed she couldn’t blame him a whole lot. She’d been itching to get him alone for days now. She didn’t recall feeling this sense of anticipation when she’d married Edward. Then again, when she’d married Edward, she’d been seventeen years old and didn’t have the least notion what marriage entailed. Now she was getting the benefits without the ceremony.
Since she didn’t feel like thinking about that anymore, she didn’t.
Nick pushed the front door of her new house open. “Your new home, Miss Eulalie Gibb. Hope you like it. Junius and I did the best we could.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it, Nick. Thank you so—”
She got no further. Suddenly a lamp flared to life in the little front parlor, and Eulalie nearly jumped out of her skin when just about everyone she knew in town shouted, “Surprise!”
Before she was engulfed in happy hugs, she heard Nick mutter, “Shit.”
Nevertheless, it was a nice little party. Since it was a Saturday night, even the Johnson children were allowed to attend. Joining them were the Loveladys, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and their brood, Mr. Huffington the minister (who blessed the house), Mr. Chalmers the schoolmaster, the sheriff, Dooley Chivers and both lieutenants. Mrs. Johnson had set out a veritable feast on the table in the kitchen, which she’d first spread with a tablecloth she’d made herself, with the help of Sarah and Penelope.
“I helped sew the hem,” said Penelope.
“I pinned it up,” declared little Sarah.
“Thank you so much. You’re both so nice to me.” Eulalie gave them each a hug. As she did so, she glanced up to see where Nick was in the overall scheme of things. He and Junius were being congratulated heartily by Dooley Chivers and the two lieutenants. Junius looked happy as a lark. Nick looked rather like a thundercloud ready to burst and rain all over the party.
Thinking she’d worry about her weight after Patsy arrived, Eulalie indulged in a piece of cake and took one each over to Nick and Junius. “This was so nice of everyone,” she gushed at Junius.
Nick, holding a cup of something that didn’t contain alcohol, although Eulalie wasn’t sure what exactly it was, looked at her as if she’d planned this entire party out of spite to thwart him. She didn’t appreciate it, and showed him so by lifting her chin and pasting on her most defiant expression. He rolled his eyes.
“We’re happy you come to stay amongst us,” said Junius, oblivious to the silent exchange between his nephew and Eulalie. “Can’t remember when we got a nicer surprise here in Rio Peñasco.”
“That’s what I just told her,” boomed Bernie Benson. “To our own cactus flower!” And he lifted a cup filled with the same liquid in toast.
“To Miss Gibb!” the attendees said in unison, lifting their cups, too.
Was it lemonade? Eyeing it dubiously, Eulalie didn’t think so. Where would anyone come by a lemon out here?
Somebody said, “Speech!” and the refrain was taken up by the rest of the group. Eulalie, perceiving no way out, stepped in to do her duty, to a rousing round of applause.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the warm welcome I’ve received in Rio Peñasco. All of you have been so kind to a stranger. I don’t know how to thank you.”
She heard Nick mutter, “Christ,” and raised her voice.
“My sister Patsy will arrive on the stagecoach the day after tomorrow, and I know she will love you all as I do. Thank you so much!” She lifted her own cup then, fearless, took a sip of its contents. Whatever it was, it wasn’t half bad.
It was probably heading toward three a.m. on Sunday morning when the last of the celebrants left the little now-white adobe house Nick and Junius Taggart had built for Eulalie and Patsy Gibb. Eulalie was pretty sure she was going to die from exhaustion. She didn’t have a clue how Nick was feeling, but if he thought she was going to begin fulfilling her part in their bargain tonight, he was mistaken.
She kissed Junius on the cheek and hugged Louise Johnson as the two herded Mrs. Johnson’s sleepy children out the door. “Thank you so much, Junius and Louise. This is the happiest day I’ve had in a long time.” She meant it, even though she was so sleepy, she could hardly see straight.
Mrs. Johnson patted her cheek. “You get a good sleep, now, you hear? Church don’t start until eleven this morning, and if you miss it, nobody will think a thing of it.”
Church. Oh, sweet heaven, that’s right. Eulalie had been religious—so to speak—about attending church services since her arrival in Rio Peñasco. No sense riling the natives, and all that. Besides, Eulalie took comfort from the rituals and hymns of the church, even the church in Rio Peñasco. At the moment, however, she wanted to attend a church service about as much as she wanted to walk
barefoot from Rio Peñasco to New York City. She said, “Thank you, Louise. I shall try to attend.”
As soon as she shut the door behind Louise and Junius, Eulalie turned, expecting to find Nick Taggart behind her, ready to ravish her. She had a few choice words to say to him.
He wasn’t there. As Eulalie went through the small house—parlor, kitchen, service porch, hall, first bedroom—she didn’t find him anywhere. Had he given up and gone back to his own home behind the smithy? It seemed unlikely, Nick being a full-blooded and lusty male and all that.
When she finally pushed the door of her own bedroom open, she found him, sprawled on the bed, fast asleep.
With a sigh of relief, Eulalie decided that took care of that quite nicely, and she grabbed her nightgown and hied herself to Patsy’s bedroom, where she changed, fell into bed, and slept the sleep of the innocent. Which she was, at least for the time being.
Chapter Ten
Nick awoke because some damned fool had shined a light in his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he discovered the fool was God and that Nick himself was spread-eagled on Eulalie Gibb’s bed. Alone.
“Damn it!”
He stormed out of the bedroom, furious that his plans for the night before hadn’t been achieved. Although he wasn’t sure, he had a sneaking suspicion that Eulalie had known all about the party her friends had planned for her. Oh, very well. They were his friends, too, although they sure hadn’t proved it by thwarting his purpose.
She was gone.
Nick looked high and low, feeling kind of frantic, although he figured he was being irrational. Finally, when he slowed down long enough to really look for signs of Eulalie’s presence or absence, and possible reasons for either, he discovered a note she had set on the table in the kitchen. She’d set a little bowl of wildflowers on its edge to hold it down. Good thing she’d thought to do that, Nick thought ruefully, since it was the note’s fluttering in the breeze he made as he barreled through the house that had caught his eye. He reached out to snatch up the note, realized that if he did that, the bowl of flowers would fall over and he’d feel like an ass, so he carefully moved the flowers and picked up the note.
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