“It’s all right.” He shuffled slightly, tried to come up with something to say that, if not brilliant, would at least make her feel better, failed at that, too, and left, damned near running to get away from those tears. Damn! He hadn’t expected Eulalie Gibb, of all people, to cry at him. Maybe females really were all manipulative cats.
Somehow, he couldn’t stand the notion of Eulalie being on the same level as his stepmother and stepsisters, so he decided that he’d make allowances in her case. Unless, of course, she ultimately proved herself false. He only hoped that, if it ever happened, it wouldn’t be until he was tired of her.
He had the melancholy notion that tiring of Eulalie Gibb might entail the association of an entire lifetime.
* * * * *
Eulalie didn’t have a notion in the world why she’d broken down in front of Nick Taggart, but her tears continued for a good ten minutes—or, more precisely, a bad ten minutes—after he’d left her that morning. She hadn’t wanted him to go. She’d wanted him to stay and never leave her.
She was clearly losing her mind.
Or maybe she was just sick and tired of being strong all the time. It had felt wonderful during the night to give herself to Nick. He was so big and strong and protective. Eulalie felt safe with him. She’d also felt a variety of other sensations that surprised her a good deal. Edward, probably the tenderest man in the entire universe, couldn’t hold a candle to Nick Taggart when it came to making Eulalie’s body sing.
“I’m sorry, Edward,” she moaned, mopping at her tears and curling up into a little ball on the sofa.
She realized at once that she wasn’t sorry at all, and that made her cry harder. She’d loved Edward with all her youthful enthusiasm and innocent ardor. Well, she did have her family still. Until her mother and father died in that dreadful train wreck. Then she’d had Patsy and Uncle Harry and Aunt Florence and a couple of cousins.
Eulalie wished she could crawl back into her bed, pull the covers up over her head, and hide for the rest of her life. Everything was getting all muddled up. She’d believed it would all be so simple, because she and Patsy had planned and schemed and made detailed arrangements about how they were going to escape from the threat posed by Gilbert Blankenship, in Rio Peñasco, a village so far away from civilization that surely no one would ever find them.
And then she’d found Nick, who, for a price, had agreed to keep them safe. The problem was that, God save her, she’d realized last night in the heat of passion that it wasn’t only lust she felt for him. God save her, she’d fallen in love with the man! A blacksmith! In Rio Peñasco, New Mexico Territory.
She ought to have known she wasn’t the type of woman who could merely bargain her body for protection. She had known it. But she and Patsy had been so desperate, and she’d so hoped that she’d be able to keep her end of the bargain and not entangle her heart.
“Fool,” she muttered, uncurling herself, knowing she had to get cleaned up and start her day.
By the time Nick and Junius knocked on her front door a little past noon in order to walk her over to the stage stop, she’d managed, by constant applications of cool, damp compresses, to get the puffiness around her eyes to subside. And her eyes no longer looked bloodshot. Eulalie figured that if she acted cheerful and happy—which she was, really—no one would notice the remnants of her crying jag.
She smiled at her escorts. “It’s very nice of you to walk me to the stage stop.”
“We’re both looking forward to meeting your sister, Miss Eulalie,” Junius said, grinning from ear to ear. “Is she as purty as you?”
She used to be. “Patsy is a lovely person,” Eulalie said. “She had … um … an accident a few months ago that has left scars.”
“I’m right sorry to hear that,” said Junius. “That’s a right shame.”
“Yes. It is a shame. I believe she’s rather sensitive about the scarring.”
“Too bad,” said Nick, who until that time hadn’t said a word.
Eulalie glanced up at him and was slightly alarmed to see him scowling, as if he were in a vicious mood. After what they’d done together last night, Eulalie would have thought he’d still be feeling euphoric.
Then again, so should she, and she’d been crying all morning. She sighed at the fickleness of fate and human moods.
As they approached the stage stop, which was right outside the Loveladys’ mercantile establishment, Eulalie noticed that quite a crowd had gathered. “Goodness, are all those people here to meet friends and family arriving on the stagecoach?”
“I think they’re all here to greet your sister,” muttered Nick.
“Good heavens. Why?” Patsy would be terrified.
Nick eyed her as if he suspected her of being disingenuous.
She looked back at him and said, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You mean to tell me that with all the friends you’ve made here in town, you expected to meet your sister all by yourself?”
“I … I didn’t think of it that way.” She wished she had. She could have warned Patsy.
Nick snorted derisively. “What kind of people do you think we are? We stick by our friends here in the territory, Eulalie.”
If she’d felt stronger, she might have bridled. As it was, she felt like bursting into tears again. Her reaction seemed stupid to her. She said, “Yes. I guess you’re right.”
Nick said, “Hmm.”
Junius looked at them and laughed merrily. It figured.
* * * * *
The stage was forty-five minutes late, which wasn’t unusual. What seemed unusual to Eulalie was that practically every person she’d met since she’d come to live in Rio Peñasco remained with her, waiting for her sister to arrive. What’s more, they all seemed as excited as she that Patsy was coming.
“I’m looking forward to meeting a sister of yours, Miss Gibb,” said the gallant Lieutenant Gabriel Fuller.
“As am I,” echoed Lieutenant Nash, whom Eulalie had begun to think of as something akin to a cocklebur. Wherever Fuller went, Nash went also. Not that he wasn’t a very nice man—but Eulalie wondered what he’d do if suddenly deprived of Fuller’s leadership. She envisioned him losing his anchor to this earth and floating skyward, to be blown away by the unceasing territorial wind.
“Thank you both very much,” she said in her sweetest voice.
Nick said, “Huh.”
“Is your sister a singer, too, Miss Gibb?” Fuller asked.
Eulalie’s heart twanged. “We come from a theatrical family, Lieutenant Fuller, but Patsy won’t be performing in Rio Peñasco. She expects to be keeping house for the two of us.”
“How interesting.” Fuller attempted to move a little closer to Eulalie, and was intercepted by Nick, who glowered at him as if daring him to take one more step. He didn’t. After returning Nick’s glower, he said, “Do you suppose your theatrical family will ever decide to visit the two of you here? It would be a real treat to have a troupe of entertainers perform for us.”
Eulalie, thinking of her family, sighed. “There aren’t many of us left, although I believe my uncle Harry intends to visit us once we’re settled.”
“That would be nice. You know the railroad is making travel to the territory much easier than it used to be.”
She wondered if he thought she didn’t know that, but she only smiled.
Nick said, “Huh,” again. Fuller only smiled a superior smile at him.
Bernie Benson was there, of course, with his pencil poised. Spying him, Eulalie sighed again and hoped he wouldn’t spread the word of Patsy’s arrival too far and wide. She didn’t dare ask him to keep Patsy’s presence a secret for fear he’d learn the whole story and spread it far and wide. They’d both hoped to be anonymous, more or less, out on the frontier. From everything Eulalie and Patsy had read before their move here, people disappeared into the western territories all the time and nobody ever found them. They undoubtedly didn’t have a “Bernie Benson” dogg
ing their footsteps.
“I hope you and your sister still plan to join us for supper, Eulalie,” said Mrs. Johnson.
“Yes. Thank you very much, Louise. That would be nice. I’m sure neither Patsy nor I will feel much like cooking after she gets here.”
“She’s going to be right tuckered, is my guess,” said Mrs. Johnson, nodding sagely.
“I’m afraid she will be.” Eulalie chewed her lip for a second before reminding herself that no one here knew exactly why she’d come to Rio Peñasco.
“We’re having a ham for supper, Miss Gibb,” Sarah Johnson told her, gazing up at her with adoration. Eulalie couldn’t quite account for the little girl’s evident worship of a saloon singer, but she appreciated it. “And Ma picked a whole mess of summer squash to go with it. And taters, too. And she cooked a pie.”
“That sounds delicious, Sarah.” And there went her vow to stop eating so cursed much, too. Well, Patsy would soon take her in hand and make sure she didn’t overeat. And if she couldn’t stop her from overeating, she was a wonderful seamstress and could let her costumes out.
“I think I hear the stage,” Junius said.
Eulalie’s heart sped up. “Really?” She’d donned her eyeglasses, in spite of appearing in public in the daytime in them, and squinted toward the west, where the stage would come from. Roswell had gained access to the railroad in 1893, and served as a hub to all the villages and towns in an area almost two hundred miles in diameter. Eulalie couldn’t imagine how people got to Rio Peñasco before the advent of the railroad—or why they’d want to. Covered wagon, she supposed, although that didn’t answer the other part of the question. “I don’t see— Oh, wait! I see the dust!”
Excitement bubbled within her. In fact, so much excitement bubbled so enthusiastically that she grabbed Nick’s arm and held on tight. He glanced down at her, as if he didn’t understand. Eulalie did. She’d begun treating Nick as if he belonged to her, and her reaction to excitement was automatic: she wanted to share it with the person closest to her emotionally. And that person, unfortunately, was Nick Taggart. Idiotic Eulalie. However, she didn’t see any reason to let him go. After all, the more they were seen together as a couple, the more people would be likely to understand that Nick was her protector. That was her excuse, at any rate. The simple truth was that she needed the human contact. With him, God save her.
He didn’t protest. Eulalie suspected it was because she was pressing her bosom against his arm.
It wasn’t long before Eulalie could decipher shapes in the cloud of dust to the west. First she discerned two horses, then another two, then numbers five and six, and then the bulk of the stagecoach. She hugged Nick’s arm tightly, forgetting to be regretful that their relationship was a sham.
He said softly, “You all right, Eulalie?”
“Yes,” she said, and only then realized tears were dripping down her cheeks. “Oh, how silly!” she said, and she let go of his arm and grabbed her handkerchief. To her amazement and gratification, Nick put his arm around her waist and hugged her to his side. How sweet.
After another few minutes, during which Eulalie tried and failed to calm her nerves and Nick continued to hold her, the stagecoach drew up in a dramatic flourish of horseflesh, screeching wheels, and a huge flurry of dust. Eulalie noticed that everything connected with the coach, including the horses, driver, and the stagecoach itself, was the same reddish-beige that she’d begun to think of as the prevailing color of her new life—the color of dust.
Phineas Lovelady, the Loveladys’ middle son, hurried to the heads of the lead pair of horses and grabbed their harnesses. Everyone knew the horses were too exhausted by this time to bolt or do anything else of an outlandish nature, but it was tradition, and Phineas took his job seriously.
Eulalie was vaguely aware of people cheering and clapping, and then the door opened—and there was Patsy! She peeked out timidly, a black mourning veil covering her face from forehead to chin. Eulalie tore herself away from Nick and rushed to the stage, where the driver had jumped down and was flipping the stairs to allow his passengers to exit.
Patsy said, “Eulalie?”
Eulalie exclaimed, “Patsy!” and reached out to help her down the steps. As soon as Patsy hit the dirt, the sisters were in each other’s arms, and both were crying as if the world would end. Everyone in the crowd who had gathered to witness the touching reunion cheered, the ladies dabbing at their eyes with hankies, and the men sniffling surreptitiously. Eulalie couldn’t recall being this happy in a long, long time.
And then Nick was at her side, saying something. Drawing away from her sister, she sniffled, grabbed her already-damp hankie, mopped her cheeks, and said shakily, “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry to interrupt your reunion, ladies, but you’re blocking the exit.”
Blinking and glancing around, Eulalie realized Nick was absolutely correct. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Come, Patsy, let’s move aside.”
Patsy, dabbing at her own damp cheeks under her veil, complied. The rest of the passengers, their way now clear, climbed down the steps. They all smiled at the sisters, so Eulalie presumed they hadn’t minded their delayed exit.
And then Patsy saw the crowd. She took Eulalie’s arm and held on tight. “Who-who are all these people?” she whispered. The question held an edge of panic.
She rushed to reassure her sister. “They’re all friends, dear.”
“Oh.”
Her reassurance hadn’t succeeded; Eulalie could tell. Therefore, she increased the jollity in her voice, put an arm around Patsy’s waist, and said, “But here, Patsy. Please let me introduce you to everyone.”
“Oh, dear.” No one else heard the two words, which had been uttered in a tiny, frightened whisper.
“Be strong for just a little bit longer, Patsy,” Eulalie whispered back. “This won’t take long.”
“Thank you.”
Eulalie squeezed her sister’s waist, her heart aching when she realized how thin Patsy had become. Making her voice loud and cheery, she said, “First you need to meet the two Mister Taggarts, Patsy.” She led Patsy down an aisle the townsfolk had created and that ended at Nick and Junius. Eulalie felt as though she were leading a wraith, Patsy was so frail. She smiled at her friends—and the very word friends almost made her cry again—and stopped before the Taggarts.
“Patsy, please allow me to introduce you to Junius Taggart and his nephew, Nick Taggart. The Taggarts were … uh … among the first people I met when I arrived in Rio Peñasco.” She hadn’t revealed the exact nature of their meeting because she hadn’t wanted to alarm Patsy.
Junius yanked his disreputable hat from his head and swept a bow that would have done Uncle Harry proud. “How do, Miss Gibb? We’re mighty happy to have you here. Miss Eulalie has been a bright spot ever since she come to Rio Peñasco.”
“Thank you, Junius,” said Eulalie, watching her sister with concern.
“How do you do, Mr. Taggart?” Patsy said in a very small voice.
“And this is Mr. Nick Taggart, Patsy. Nick has become a particular friend of mine, and he is always watching out for my welfare.” She wasn’t sure she should have said the particular friend part, because she didn’t want people to get the wrong idea—or the right idea, perhaps—but she wanted Patsy to know how things stood.
“How do, ma’am?” said Nick, removing his hat with much less of a flourish than his uncle.
“Thank you so much for helping my sister, Mr. Taggart,” Patsy said in her tiny, breathy voice. “She’s told me of your many kindnesses.”
“Think nothing of it,” muttered Nick. Eulalie could plainly tell that he was uncomfortable being praised.
And then came the Johnsons and the two lieutenants, and just as Eulalie was preparing to go through the entire rest of the town, wishing all the while that fewer people had come to greet Patsy so as to spare her this ordeal, Patsy uttered a tiny, breathy squeak. And then she fainted.
Lieutenant Fuller caught her just before s
he hit the dust. “Good God,” he said.
Eulalie figured he didn’t know what else to say. “Patsy has been quite unwell lately, Lieutenant Fuller. Perhaps you can carry her to the house?”
She looked around for Nick, and realized he’d already gathered Patsy’s baggage together, and he and Junius stood just a couple of feet away, ready to escort the two ladies home. She appreciated them so much, and once again she realized that she’d never before met two such helpful people. She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”
And then, because she loved these people, her new friends, she turned and said to the crowd, “Thank you all for coming. I’m so sorry, but Patsy has been very ill lately. I expect the excitement was too much for her.”
Mrs. Johnson hurried up to her. “Will you two be fit to come to supper tonight? I can send Clarence and William over with—”
Eulalie clasped her work-worn hand. “No. We’ll be fine. Patsy will be fine. She’ll want to come to supper at your house, Louise. She just needs to rest up a bit.”
“Well, if you’re sure …”
“I’m sure.” And she kissed the older woman’s cheek.
* * * * *
It annoyed Nick that Fuller got to carry the sister while he was stuck with the baggage, but he guessed it wouldn’t do to fight the fellow for her. Worse, it annoyed him to realize that he wanted to carry Patsy because she was Eulalie’s sister, and Eulalie loved her, and he wanted to be the one to protect everything Eulalie loved.
He had it bad, and it peeved the hell out of him. He’d sworn since he was a boy never to get entangled with a woman. His experience told him that, except for a few older widows like Mrs. Johnson, females were trouble. And here he was, wanting to play Sir Galahad for Eulalie Gibb. He’d believed he’d struck the perfect bargain with her, setting everything up on a businesslike basis. But no. Nick Taggart, the world’s worst sucker, had gone and fallen for the woman. He made himself sick.
“Your sister doesn’t weigh more than a feather, Miss Gibb.”
Fuller sounded worried. He would, Nick thought uncharitably. Always trying to get in good with the ladies, Fuller was. And the bastard knew that the best way to win Eulalie was to care about her sister.
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