Cactus Flower (19 page)

      
“But
you sound as if you’re speaking from experience. This couldn’t have
anything to do with the accident you told me about, could it?”

      
“I
… prefer not to discuss it.” Silently, Eulalie cursed her too-ready
tongue.

      
“Hmm.”

      
Neither
of them said any more until Nick had driven the gig into an area of
the countryside Eulalie wouldn’t have known existed if he’d not
taken her there. Short, sheer cliffs rose here and there, sheltering
green and serene pools of water. Wildflowers boomed on their banks,
and to Eulalie, who was accustomed to the lakes and rivers of her eastern
roots, the beauty of the scene seemed not so much tranquil, but rather
a rest from the savagery that was so much a part of the rest of this
out-of-the-way area of the continent.

      
“Say,”
said Nick, breaking the silence that would have seemed eerie to Eulalie
if she’d been alone. “Look there.” He pointed, and Eulalie saw
several big birds circling lazily in the sky over a lake. “Sure sign
of spring.”

      
“Really?
What kinds of birds are they?”

      
“Buzzards.”

      
Eulalie
turned to stare at him. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

      
His
grin was wicked. “Nope. You can always tell when the weather’s changed
when the buzzards come back.”

      
“Good
heavens.” Eulalie’s voice was weak.

      
“Rough
country.”

      
“I
should say so.” She’d have to write Patsy about this.

      
It
would be the last letter she’d be able to write because Patsy would
be here before another communication from Eulalie could reach her. The
notion made her heart leap with happiness. She’d have her family back
again! Or at least part of it. And Eulalie was sure, now that she’d
made arrangements with Nick Taggart, that Patsy would be safe. For that
alone, Eulalie would like to kiss Nick.

      
A
sensation low in her belly surprised her. Good heavens, she hadn’t
felt that … that sense of excitement since Edward died. Did that mean
she was a hussy?

      
Nonsense,
Eulalie Gibb. It means you’re human.

      
That
was another thing women missed out on: access to their own sexuality.
Eulalie, who possessed a passionate nature, although she tried to hide
it so as not to give her audience the idea that she was easy, decided
this was one of the most unfair of life’s many inequities.

      
She
was, however, anticipating her union with Nick Taggart with a good deal
of pleasure.

Chapter Nine
 

Dearest Patsy,

By the time
you receive this letter, I should be residing in a brand-new home, with
a bedroom especially designed for you. Actually, both bedrooms will
be a trifle crude compared to what you are used to, dear, but I know
we can be happy here.

      
The
two Mister Taggarts have agreed to build the house for us, and Mr. Taggart
(the younger) has agreed to watch over and protect the two of us after
you arrive in Rio Peñasco. The price is one I am happy to pay.

      
Eulalie
thought about that last sentence and decided to leave it in.

      
I
can hardly wait to see you again, Patsy. Please take care of yourself,
do exactly as the doctor orders, and prepare yourself. Rio Peñasco
is like
nothing
you have ever experienced! I actually enjoy it
here, and I pray you will, too. At
the very least, you will have peace and security.

      
All
my love,

      
Eulalie
 

      
Two
weeks and a couple of days after Nick took Eulalie to the Bottomless
Lakes for a picnic luncheon, Eulalie’s cheek had healed and Nick and
Junius finished building a small adobe house—with two bedrooms—for
the Gibb sisters. Not only did everyone in Rio Peñasco understand that
this was a declaration of Eulalie’s status as Nick Taggart’s special
lady friend, but Dooley Chivers opened a betting book at the Opera House
on whether or not Eulalie would ever trap Nick into marrying her.

      
“Wouldn’t
surprise me none,” said Lloyd Grady on a cool Saturday night in May
with the wind howling like a banshee outside the saloon. “She’s
small, but she’s mighty determined.” He rubbed his hand on his coat
in memory of the time Eulalie had walloped his knuckles with her Colt
Ladysmith.

      
“I
dunno,” said Joshua Pratt, caressing his bandaged thigh. “I can’t
see Nicky marrying any female that’d shoot a man for admiring her.”

      
“Hell,”
said Lloyd, “you should oughta learned from what she done to me not
to mess with her. She’s a scary female.”

      
“She
only wants respect, gentlemen,” said Lieutenant Gabriel Fuller. “She
doesn’t like to be manhandled.” He didn’t exhibit any particular
happiness about the arrangement between Nick and Eulalie, though.

      
“Respect,”
muttered Lloyd, as if he wasn’t sure what the word meant.

      
“Huh,”
said Joshua.

      
Nick
strolled through the batwing doors of the Opera House at that moment
and conversation stopped abruptly. He paused at the doorway to let his
eyes adjust to the darkness indoors, then walked to the bar where Cletus
Bagwell, who’d been bartending for Dooley Chivers ever since the Opera
House opened, reigned.

      
“Sarsaparilla,
Cletus,” said Nick.

      
“Beg
pardon?” said Cletus, blinking at Nick as if he wanted to make sure
to whom he was speaking.

      
“You
heard me. Give me a sarsaparilla.”

      
“Sure
thing, Nick.” Cletus filled Nick’s order. When he shoved the glass
at him, he asked, “You give up drinkin’ or something?”

      
“Nope.
Just want a sarsaparilla is all,” said Nick, sipping his drink. He
didn’t think anyone needed to know that he aimed to collect his first
payment from Miss Eulalie Gibb after she got off work that evening.
He guessed she’d have to have some supper first. But then … He closed
his eyes. He’d been dreaming about this for more than two weeks, and
he was ready. More than ready. About to bust, in actual fact.

      
He
leaned against the bar, watching the men who would soon be watching
Eulalie, and he felt a touch—only a touch—of irritation. For some
inexplicable reason, he didn’t fancy all these men getting a look
at so much of her. Odd. He never minded when Violet shared her favors—for
a price—with other gents in town. Why should he have this feeling
of annoyance when he thought about Eulalie displaying herself in front
of them?

      
His
reaction made no sense to him. He decided he didn’t want to think
about it.

      
“So,
Nick, you won, didn’t you?”

      
Lifting
his head from his contemplation of the floor in front of him, Nick saw
Lieutenant Gabriel Fuller standing before him, and his heart lightened.
“How do, Lieutenant.” He tried to look innocent. “Won what?”

      
Fuller
heaved a deep sigh. “Don’t be coy, my man. I understand the fair
Eulalie is now under your protection.” He knocked on the bar and said,
“Rye,” to Cletus, who promptly filled the order.

      
That
sounded mighty fine to Nick. He said, “Yeah. I reckon you might say
so.”

      
“Too
bad.”

      
Fuller’s
sidekick, Lieutenant Nash, also knocked on the bar, to no avail.

      
“For
you, maybe,” said Nick.

      
Nash
said, “Cletus?”

      
“Indeed,”
said Fuller with another sigh. He took a slug of his whiskey.

      
Nash
said, “Hey, Cletus!”

      
“She’s
got a sister,” Nick told Fuller. “She’s going to be arriving here
in a couple of days. Maybe she’ll take to you more than Eulalie did.”
He snickered.

      
Nash
said, “Dammit, Cletus!”

      
“Huh.”
Fuller downed the rest of his drink, knocked on the bar once more, and
Cletus appeared, as if by magic. “Hit me again, Cletus.”

      
Cletus
obliged and would have vanished, but Nash grabbed his sleeve. “Hey,
Cletus, gimme a rye, too, willya?”

      
Blinking
at the smaller man, Cletus said, “Oh. Sure, Lieutenant. You want something?”

      
Nash,
whose face was red and whose ears steamed, said, “Yes. A drink.”

      
Cletus
obliged.

      
With
a sigh, Nash turned, leaned against the bar, and watched Nick and Fuller.

      
“So
what’s her sister’s name?” asked Fuller, sounding bored.

      
“Patsy.
She’s coming from Chicago, and Eulalie says she’s an actress, too.”

      
“Oh?”
Fuller appeared slightly more interested.

      
Nick
nodded and sipped his sarsaparilla. “Yup. Whole family’s in the
business.”

      
“Really.”
Sipping thoughtfully, Fuller eyed Nick through slitted eyes. “But
you have no interest in this sister of hers, right?”

      
Nick
eyed him back, wondering what the man was up to. “Right.” But if
this upstart army bastard thought he could waltz in and sweep her off
her feet, he had another think coming. Nick had made a deal with Eulalie,
and he intended to honor it. He decided not to say so at the moment.
For all Nick knew, Fuller’s intentions were absolutely honorable.

      
In
a pig’s eye. However, that was neither here nor there. Griswold Puckett,
the piano player, played a loud chord on the tinkly piano upon which
Violet sat, looking pretty as a picture—and arousing no more than
a brotherly sense of affection in Nick’s bosom. Strange how that had
happened so fast.

      
The
room quieted for approximately ten seconds, and then a cacophony of
applause broke loose. Everyone who’d been in Rio Peñasco for more
than a day knew what that piano chord meant: Miss Eulalie Gibb, Rio
Peñasco’s very own Cactus Flower, was about to take the stage. As
was usual, Dooley Chivers strolled out from behind the red velvet curtain
and held up his arms for silence, which was achieved, more or less.

      
“All
right, gents. Time to shut your yappers, ‘cause the biggest sensation
to come our way in a month of Sundays is about to perform for our delectation
and enjoyment!”

      
Amid
the whoops that followed this speech, Nash muttered, “Talks big, don’t
he?”

      
Nick
looked down upon the lieutenant’s curly head and said, “It means
you’re going to like it.”

      
“I
figured that out on my own,” grumbled Nash.

      
Dooley
said, “And now, gentlemen, here she is. Miss Eulalie Gibb!”

      
The
curtain opened to the sounds of clapping, cheers, and stomping, and
the kerosene lamps set on the stage illuminated Eulalie in all her glory.
Tonight she wore her bright red outfit with the dyed-to-match ostrich
feathers sticking out the back of it and making her look like a red
peacock. She’d stuck another couple of red ostrich feathers in her
hair, and she looked kind of like a lobster to Nick, who wanted to eat
her up. It annoyed the hell out of him that so many other men did, too,
although he couldn’t think of anything he could do about it. Eulalie
had flatly refused his offer to support her when he’d made it in a
moment of weakness.

      
“Good
heavens, Mr. Taggart!” She always called him
Mr. Taggart
when
she was mad at him. “I’m not going to give up my means of livelihood!”

      
“But
I’d be supporting you,” said Nick, already regretting his rash impulse.

      
“Fiddlesticks.
You’ve made your opinion of permanent relationships quite clear, and
I’ll not give up my independence for less. Than a permanent relationship,
I mean.”

      
“In
other words, marriage,” Nick growled.

      
Eulalie
had only shrugged.

      
At
the time Nick had told himself he was glad she’d saved him from suffering
the consequences of his folly. Tonight, eyeing her audience as they
lusted and slavered over her, he wasn’t so sure.

      
But
it was all right, he reminded himself. These lusty fellows might pant
after her, but Nick Taggart was the one who had her.

      
Dammit,
he wished he’d had her already; he’d feel more secure about this
protection-for-favors thing. He supposed that, until they consummated
the bargain, she still might be tempted to allow somebody else to protect
her and her sister. He slanted a glance at Gabriel Fuller.

      
But
no. Eulalie was too smart to fall for a blue uniform and a cavalry mustache.

      
The
piano played the opening notes of
Champagne Charley
, and Eulalie
started to sing and dance, and Nick forgot to think. Instead he, like
every other male in the room, riveted his attention upon Miss Eulalie
Gibb, who had the most magnificent voice and the lushest figure west
of the Hudson River. East of it, too, probably, although Nick had never
been back East, so he couldn’t say for sure.