Cactus Flower (14 page)

      
Bridling
slightly, Eulalie said, “Please give me a chance, Mr. Chivers. I’m
sure it won’t take more than a day or two for the swelling to go down.”

      
“What
about the bruising?”

      
“Makeup,”
said Eulalie stoutly. “I’m an expert with makeup, don’t forget.”

      
“Hmm.”
Chivers appeared unconvinced.

      
She
clasped her hands to her bosom, a gesture she’d learned at her mother’s
knee, and pleaded with him. “Please, Mr. Chivers. Don’t allow this
unfortunate incident to affect my employment. I really need my job.”

      
“You
can’t fire her,” Nick declared. “It wasn’t her fault these two
idiots attacked her.”

      
“Well
… I reckon that’s true.”

      
“And
she’s good, Dooley,” said Nick. “You know she’s the biggest
draw you’ve ever had in the Opera House.”

      
“Yeah,
I guess that’s true.” He eyed Eulalie again and winced visibly.
“But, Nicky, look at her.”

      
“It’s
not her fault,” Nick repeated in a measured and rather menacing voice.
“Give her a couple of days off, and she’ll be good as new.”

      
“Exactly,”
said Eulalie, gratified to have received such staunch support from a
man whose friendship she’d rather doubted until now.

      
“Well
…”

      
“Dammit,
Dooley, you know she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to your
Opera House. Stop pretending you don’t need her.”

      
Dooley
heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, I reckon you’re right, Nick.” He grimaced
when he glanced at Eulalie again. “How long do you think you’ll
need, Miss Gibb? Before you’re … you know.”

      
“Now
how in hell can she tell you that?” Nick barked before Eulalie could
give an estimate of how much time her cheek would take to regain its
normal size. “She don’t know, and neither do you. I’ll take her
to Doc Canning tomorrow, and maybe he’ll be able to tell her.”

      
Defeated,
Dooley said, “Reckon you’re right, Nick. All right, Miss Gibb. I’m
real sorry this happened.”

      
“She
is, too,” growled Nick. “And don’t forget, it’s your damned
Opera House that gave those sons of bitches the idea she was … available.
And you sold ‘em the liquor, too. You ought to post a sign or something.”

      
“I
made an announcement,” said Dooley with something of a whine.

      
“Yeah,
well, you’d better make it louder. Miss Gibb’s a lady, dammit.”

      
Eulalie
could have kissed him. In fact …

      
She
placed her hand on Nick’s arm. He was no longer enraged, but his muscles
were still hard as iron. Her heart began beating faster as she prepared
to meet her fate—or what she hoped would be her fate, and that of
her sister. “Mr. Taggart, I really need to speak with you.”

      
He
eyed her with misgiving. “Yeah? Well, go ahead. Speak.”

      
Aggravating
man! She lowered her voice, and made sure it throbbed just a bit. “Privately.”

      
Nick
said, “Uh-oh.”

Chapter Seven
 

“There’s no need to take
that tone with me, Mr. Nick Taggart,” Eulalie said when they were
alone at last. Their surroundings weren’t exactly conducive to the
conversation Eulalie planned to have with him, and she’d have preferred
it if she looked her best, but one had to make do when necessity arose.
In this case necessity dictated they speak to each other in Mrs. Johnson’s
kitchen garden, as far away from the house as they could get.

      
Nick
said, “Huh.”

      
The
wind had died down, and the night, while not quite black as the pit
from pole to pole, was doing a good job of realizing that condition.
The moon lay on its back and grinned down upon her from among the stars,
and Eulalie was startled to realize that she’d come to enjoy the smell
of the desert. The air was so clean here. There was no slaughterhouse
stench permeating everything as there was in Chicago, and no odor of
too many people in too small a space mingled with garbage and horse
dung as there was in New York City. Out here, only the crisp fragrance
of creosote perfumed the air.

      
And
stars? She’d never seen so many stars in her entire life. Sometimes
after she got home from work, she’d stare out her window at the sky
and almost make herself believe that she could reach out and grab a
handful of stars in her hands. She’d like to do that, and send them
home to Patsy, so she wouldn’t be frightened anymore—although why
Eulalie thought a handful of stars would help her sister overcome her
misery, even she couldn’t have said.

      
Pressing
a cold cloth to her cheek, Eulalie frowned at Nick. “I need to discuss
something very serious with you, Mr. Taggart.”

      
“Yeah?
What?”

      
“The
welfare of the Johnsons.”

      
“What’s
wrong with the Johnsons?”

      
“Nothing!
But for heaven’s sake, Mr. Taggart, you must realize that I can’t
stay here any longer. Charles might have been seriously hurt tonight!
I can’t have that poor boy rushing to my rescue! He’s only a child.”

      
“Better
not let him hear you say that. He did a pretty good job of holding those
fellows off tonight.”

      
“But
he shouldn’t have to do that.”

      
“I
agree, but it’s not his fault you dress in nothing, sing at the Opera
House, and then parade yourself all over town at night.”

      
“I
don’t!”

      
Nick
rolled his eyes.

      
“Stop
doing that!” Eulalie cried, incensed. She’d hoped to have a nice,
private chat with Nick, and that he’d be receptive to the suggestion
she aimed to make to him, but now she wondered if she’d been a little
too sharp with him these past couple of weeks. She hadn’t pegged him
as a particularly sensitive man, but, the good Lord knew, men were strange
creatures. Maybe she’d hurt his feelings or something. “I have a
very serious problem, Mr. Taggart, and I’m hoping you’ll be willing
to help me with it.”

      
“What’s
your problem? The Johnsons? Hell, Miss Gibb, they aren’t the problem.
You are.”

      
“I
am
not
a problem!”

      
Another
eye roll. Eulalie decided it would be better to ignore it.

      
“This
problem concerns my welfare and that of my sister.”

      
“Yeah?
What’s your sister’s name?”

      
“Patsy.
Patsy Gibb. She will be joining me in Rio Peñasco as soon as we can
make arrangements.”

      
“Couldn’t
she get a job in Chicago either?”

      
His
tone was more eloquent than his words, and Eulalie knew he’d begun
to doubt her story. She decided to tell him part of the truth. “My
sister suffered a horrible accident some months ago, Mr. Taggart, and
is unable to work at all.” It hadn’t been an accident; it had been
a cold-blooded assault, but Nick didn’t need to know that.

      
“An
accident?” He didn’t sound quite as skeptical as he had before.

      
“A
terrible accident. She was grievously injured, and is only now recovered
enough to make the trip west.”

      
“Why
does she want to move west? Aren’t there more amenities in Chicago?”

      
“She
wants to move to Rio Peñasco because I’m here! Curse it, Nick Taggart,
why are you being so obstinate? My sister needs me! And, unfortunately,
I need you!”

      
He
lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah? How do you figure that? Junius and I already
see to it that nobody gets at you in the Opera House and afterwards.”

      
“Yes.
And I appreciate it very much.” This was it. She sucked in a deep
breath. “But I need to find a place for Patsy and me to live, and
it wouldn’t be fair to anyone for us to stay at the Johnsons.”

      
Nick
frowned. “You’d have to share a room.”

      
“I
don’t care about sharing a room with my sister! I care about our safety.”

      
Nick
shrugged. “Don’t know what to say about that, Miss Gibb. The line
of work you’re in …” He allowed his sentence to trail off, but
Eulalie got the impression he thought she ought to expect trouble.

      
“Listen
to me, Nick Taggart. I know I can take care of myself. I proved it tonight
when I shot that idiot who attacked me.”

      
“Huh.”

      
“And
I’d have shot the other man, too, if poor Charles hadn’t stopped
him.”

      
“That
damned belly gun of yours only carries two bullets, Miss Gibb. What
if you’d missed?”

      
“I
carry a Colt Lightning Revolver, too, Mr. Taggart. Surely you haven’t
forgotten that.”

      
“Of
course, I haven’t forgotten it, but I notice you didn’t draw it
tonight.”

      
He
had her there. She muttered, “I couldn’t get at it. That awful man
had me in a grip like iron.”

      
“Anyhow,
you’ll have a lot of explaining to do if you shoot every man who talks
to you dirty.”

      
“I
don’t plan to shoot every man who talks dirty!” This wasn’t going
at all well. Eulalie ought to have expected Nick to be difficult. He
always was. She sucked in a deep breath. “What I’m hoping is that
you will agree to protect Patsy and me.”

      
He
didn’t have a ready response to that. In fact, he only stood there—it
felt more like a loom to Eulalie—and stared at her.

      
She
ran out of patience at about the thirty-second mark. “Well?” she
demanded. “What do you think?”

      
“About
what?”

      
Obstinate
man! “About protecting me! And Patsy.”

      
“Like
how?”

      
She
huffed impatiently. “
I
don’t know how! But the men in this
ghastly place seem to respect you, and do what you say. If everyone
in town knew I was under your protection, I’m sure no one would bother
me.”

      
“Under
my protection? Like how?”

      
She
wished he’d stop saying
like how
. “If everyone in town knew
that you were my … my bodyguard, no one would dare molest me. Or Patsy.”

      
“Bodyguard?
How am I supposed to guard your body?”

      
Her
heart was pounding like a trip hammer, and Eulalie felt like battering
Nick with her fists. She knew good and well the man wasn’t stupid,
but he was certainly pretending to be thick headed this minute. “For
heaven’s sake, Nick Taggart! If everyone thought we were … together,
no man would dare approach me with improper suggestions!”

      
“Together,
eh?”

      
She
couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard him sound so cynical.
Curses. Perhaps she’d misread his interest in her. Well, in her body.
But she had to go on, because she really needed him. If some lout tried
to break into her lodging after Patsy moved in with her, anything might
happen. Poor Patsy was very fragile, both physically and emotionally,
at the moment. “Yes,” she said. “Together.”

      
“Hmm.
What exactly is in it for me, Miss Gibb?”

      
Here
it came. Eulalie reached out and ran a finger along Nick’s broad chest.
“I could pay you.”

      
“Yeah?
With what?”

      
“Well
… with money, if you’d like.” She prayed like mad he wouldn’t
take her up on that suggestion, since money was the commodity she had
least of.

      
He
licked his lips, and Eulalie’s heart soared. She had him! She knew
she had him!

      
“I
don’t need money. I make enough money at the smithy.”

      
“Well,
then, perhaps I could pay for your services in some other way.”

      
“Yeah?
What other way?”

      
“With
services of my own.”

      
He
took a step back, and Eulalie’s arm fell to her side. Drat it, he
wasn’t supposed to have done that! He was supposed to have fallen
under her spell, curse the man!

      
“All
right, let me get this straight. You want me to protect your body, and
in exchange, I get what? That same body?”

      
“Well,
yes. I guess you could put it that way.”

      
“I’m
not marrying you,” Nick stated flatly.

      
For
some reason unaccountable to Eulalie, those bald words stung. She’d
never let on. “I’m not proposing marriage. I’m proposing a carnal
union. Your protection—of my sister and me—in exchange for my favors.”

      
“Your
favors, huh?”

      
“You
seemed interested in them once.” She hoped none of the hurt she felt
inside leaked into her voice.

      
“I’m
as interested in ‘em as any other man. But I want you to know from
the beginning that I’m not a marrying man. I’m not going to repeat
my father’s mistake in that regard. No, ma’am. There’s no way
I’m going to be at the mercy of a woman again in this lifetime.”