Cactus Flower

Cactus Flower

By

Alice Duncan
 

Dedication
 

For my Rebel
sisters. I don't know what I'd do without you.
 

As soon as he heard the first
whoop, Nicholas Taggart knew his uncle Junius was on a spree again.

      
“Aw,
shit.”

      
“What
is it, darlin’?” a sleepy voice whispered as Nick swung his legs
over the side of the bed.

      
Nick
growled, “Uncle Junius,” as he fumbled for his boots.

      
“Oh.
I expect you gotta go get him?” Violet Watson, the sweet-natured,
obliging sporting girl with whom Nick had spent the last agreeable hour,
sounded disappointed.

      
“I
better. If the sheriff gets ahold of him, he might lock him up. He was
pretty sore the last time Junius went wild.”

      
Before
his uncle cut loose, Nick had been peacefully recovering from his tumble
with Violet, relaxing against the pillows and listening to the warm
spring wind howl outside her window. Springtime on the high plains bore
little resemblance to the pretty word pictures novelists painted of
springtimes in other, gentler parts of the world. Out in the territory,
spring was marked by forty-mile-an-hour winds, dust storms, and dry-as-an-old-bone
weather for months on end. Nick liked it pretty well, although he preferred
summer, when the thunderstorms came and things turned green. His uncle
Junius, on the other hand, always went a little crazy with spring fever.
Nick guessed he should have watched him more closely today.

      
“Yee-haw!”
came, muffled, through the window. “Whooee! Ain’t you a purty little
thang!”

      
“Damn!”
Nick grabbed his shirt, flung it on, and stuffed the tail into his trousers.

      
“Jeez,
Nick, do you suppose he’s captured himself another gal?”

      
“Sounds
like it.” Nick deposited a quick kiss on Violet’s naked bosom and
ran for the door, still fighting with his trouser buttons.

      
“Y’all
come back again soon, honey,” Violet called after him.

      
“Yeah,”
said Nick. “Right.” If he didn’t get Uncle Junius off the street,
Nick feared the sheriff wouldn’t let him come back at all, much less
soon. In fact, the sheriff had threatened to run both Taggarts out of
town the last time this happened. Nick ripped down the stairs, tore
through the smoky room, and thrust open the batwing doors. He barreled
out of the saloon and came to a screeching halt on the scarred boardwalk,
blinking into the sunshine. “What the hell …?”

      
Ah,
damn. Junius was dancing with the poor girl, who was a stranger, and
who looked like she was about to faint or scream or both. She was small
and kind of thin—certainly no match for Junius—and at present was
pressing a flowered hat to her head with one hand and had a wicker valise
clutched in the other. Junius held her around the waist and was doing
a polka without any help from her. A crowd had gathered to watch the
fun, some cheering Junius, some on the girl’s side.

      
“Put
that girl down, Junius!” Nick made his voice stern. Sometimes Junius
responded to sternness.

      
Not
this time. “Hell, Nicky, let an old man have his fun!”

      
“Stop
him!” the girl screeched. “Somebody stop him!”

      
Nick
didn’t blame her for screeching. Junius wasn’t the sort of fellow
to melt a fair maiden’s heart at the best of times, with his long
white whiskers and elaborate paunch. When he’d imbibed a gut full
of rye, he could be downright frightening if you didn’t know him.
Hell, he could be frightening even if you did know him. Bearing that
in mind, Nick moved carefully when he approached his happy uncle, not
fancying a bullet in the head or any other portion of his anatomy.

      
“I
swear, Nick Taggart, if you can’t keep that man under control, I’m
going to lock him up.”

      
Nick’s
heart fell. He’d been hoping to disengage Junius from the girl before
the sheriff came out of his office. Too late now. Sheriff Wallace glared
at the scene being enacted on the main street of his town and didn’t
look happy. Nick wasn’t happy, either.

      
“Stop
that!” the girl shouted. “Stop it, you brute!”

      
“I’m
trying to stop him, honey,” Nick said in a soothing voice.

      
She
clearly didn’t want to be soothed. “Don’t you honey me!”

      
“Whooee!”
cried Junius, happy as a lark. “Yee-haw!”

      
“Come
on now, Junius, let the girl go. You’ve had your fun, and she don’t
look like she’s enjoying the dance.” Nick smiled at his uncle, who
didn’t look at him. The girl did, and he could tell she was mad enough
to spit horseshoe nails. At least she wasn’t crying. Nick hated it
when females cried during one of his uncle’s toots. “Junius!”
he shouted.

      
“Hell,
boy, I’m just dancin’ with the lady,” Junius shouted back. He
dipped her, Nick presumed to demonstrate his skill on the dance floor,
even though they weren’t on one, but rather on a dusty road running
through Rio Peñasco, New Mexico Territory.

      
What
happened next took Junius by surprise. It surprised Nick, too, as well
as everyone else who was watching. It made the sheriff smile, so that
was a good thing. Maybe he wouldn’t lock Junius up for too long.

      
The
girl lifted her wicker valise and bashed Junius over the head with it.
From the fragile looks of her, Nick hadn’t expected her to do anything
so aggressive. Shocked, Junius let her go and staggered backward. Nick
rushed up and grabbed him around the middle before Junius could draw
his gun and shoot the girl’s valise. Sheriff Wallace ran up, too,
and managed to wrestle Junius’s sidearm out of his holster while Nick
pinned his arms at his sides.

      
Thank
God
, Nick thought.
Thank God
. Eccentricity was far from an
unusual characteristic out here in the western territories, but every
now and then Nick’s uncle Junius carried it to extremes.

      
“Haul
him over to the jail, Nick,” Sheriff Wallace said as Junius continued
to struggle. He didn’t sound angry, which was damned near a miracle
to Nick’s mind. “I’m gonna lock him up until he sleeps it off.”

      
“Hell,
I only wanted to kick up a little lark,” Junius said, sounding disheartened.
He was strong as an ox, an attribute that came in handy at the black-smithing
and farrier shop he and Nick ran, but it was a distinct hindrance to
Nick at the moment. Fortunately, Nick was strong as an ox himself, as
well as several inches taller and a few decades younger than Junius,
and he didn’t lose his grip.

      
“He
isn’t going to sleep for a while yet, Sheriff,” Nick told him, mostly
because he didn’t want the sheriff to get mad when Junius sang for
the next two or three hours.

      
“I
know it. But I’m not going to have him running loose on the streets
and bothering no more ladies, either.” For a young man, Wallace had
always been kind of a stuffed shirt, more’s the pity.

      
“I
want to press charges,” the woman announced.

      
Even
though he was having a time subduing his uncle, Nick stared at her in
surprise. She stuck her little chin in the air and repeated herself.
“I want to press charges. That man assaulted me on a public thoroughfare.”

      
Well,
Nick guessed she had a right to do what she pleased, but he did think
pressing charges was kind of mean, considering all Junius had been doing
with her was the polka. He didn’t argue, because he needed his strength
to handle his uncle.

      
“Come
on to the office with us, ma’am, and we can discuss the matter.”

      
Nick
recognized Sheriff Wallace’s voice as the one he used when he was
trying to impress a woman. Nick would have grinned if he weren’t otherwise
occupied. It took some doing, but he finally managed to muscle Junius
over to the sheriff’s office. Once they were all inside, Sheriff Wallace
unlocked the single cell in the back room, and Nick shoved Junius into
it. He was exhausted by that time, and sank into a chair in the front
room as soon as he was sure Sheriff Wallace could get the cell door
locked. He popped up again when he saw Junius’s dancing partner frowning
down at him.

      
“Sorry,
ma’am.” Nick removed his hat and gestured at the chair. “Won’t
you please have a chair?” He was hoping she’d soften in her attitude
toward Junius if he was polite to her. When she sniffed and sat, his
hopes died.

      
Junius
had been hollering. Now he began to sing. Since he only sang bawdy songs
when he was drunk, Nick shook his head and took to wishing they’d
stayed home today. The girl stiffened in her chair like a pointer eyeing
a duck. Sheriff Wallace shut the door, although the flimsy wood didn’t
appreciably muffle Junius’s voice.

      
“Try
to ignore him, ma’am,” Sheriff Wallace advised, taking the chair
behind his desk, which he generally did when trying to look official.
He hauled out a red bandanna and wiped the sweat from his brow. “He
isn’t dangerous most of the time.”

      
The
girl huffed indignantly and followed it up with a furious, “I never!”

      
Nick
thought that summarized the situation pretty well.

      
“Now,
ma’am,” Sheriff Wallace continued. “You say you want to press
charges? Want a drink of water, first? You’ve had a shock.”

      
“I
should say I have. I’ve never been mauled like that in my life. And
no, I wouldn’t care for water. Thank you.”

      
Nick
watched her through slitted eyes. He wouldn’t mind mauling her some
himself. She was a ripe little thing, with a curvy figure, a fair complexion,
and lots of dark reddish-brown hair. Her eyes were deep blue, not unlike
a territorial sky when you could see it through the dust. Nick liked
blue-eyed females. He couldn’t fault his uncle’s taste, even if Junius’s
approach lacked subtlety.

      
“I
know, ma’am. It’s a shame, but Mr. Taggart’s uncle Junius can
be a handful.” The sheriff gestured at Nick to let her know who Mr.
Taggart was.

      
“He’s
more than a handful. I believe the man is mad.” She shot Nick a hateful
glance, which Nick didn’t appreciate. Hell, it wasn’t his fault
Junius couldn’t handle his liquor. Nick had tried to rescue her, and
it also wasn’t his fault she’d rescued herself before he’d had
the chance.

      
Sheriff
Wallace eyed her doubtfully. “He didn’t look mad to me, ma’am.
He looked like he was enjoin’ himself.”

      
“Mad,
in this instance, Sheriff, means insane,” the girl informed Wallace.

      
“He’s
not insane,” Nick muttered. “He just gets a shade lively sometimes.”

      
“Lively!”
The woman snorted. Hatefully.

      
“Yes,
well, it’s over now, ma’am. Is there anything I can do for you?
You’re new in Rio Peñasco, aren’t you?”

      
After
his speech, Sheriff Wallace smoothed his mustache in a gesture Nick
recognized. The sheriff made a play for any pretty female who happened
through Rio Peñasco. This one was pretty, but she wasn’t real friendly.
Nick preferred his females friendly, quiet, and compliant. No matter
what a female looked like, every single one of them had the same equipment,
and that’s the only thing Nick cared about. If he wanted to look at
something pretty, all he had to do was watch the sunset. If he wanted
to talk, he could talk to Junius. Nick never wanted to argue, which
was one of the main reasons he didn’t cotton to proper females. Nick
had never yet met a respectable woman who couldn’t argue the leg off
a lawyer.

      
“Yes,
I just arrived a moment or two before that bear of a man grabbed me.”
She spoke in a cold voice. “My name is Miss Eulalie Gibb, and I have
been hired to sing at the Peñasco Opera House.”

      
The
sheriff shot a look at Nick, who shot one back. This woman had been
hired to sing at the Opera House? The very same disorderly house from
which Nick had exited in order to save her from his uncle? Nick eyed
her more closely. Maybe she was more his type than he’d first thought.

      
“Uh,”
said Sheriff Wallace, “did you say the Opera House, ma’am?”

      
“Yes.”
She sounded indignant, as if she thought Sheriff Wallace should pay
closer attention to her than he seemed to be doing.

      
“Er,
ma’am, did you know the Opera House isn’t a real opera house? It’s
more of a saloon, if you know what I mean.”

      
There
went her chin again. “Yes. I know exactly what you mean. But a girl
has to work somewhere.”

      
“Where
are you from, ma’am?” Nick asked, suddenly curious about this newcomer.

      
The
look she gave him was one of the iciest Nick had ever received from
a woman. “I,” she said grandly, “am from Chicago, Illinois.”