Cactus Flower (20 page)

      
*
* * * *

      
Eulalie
could scarcely wait to get out of her costume. She was perishing from
being so tightly bound. “It’s those huge steaks,” she muttered,
struggling with her corset hooks behind the screen in her dressing room.
“It’s a good thing Patsy’s coming the day after tomorrow. She’ll
cook for us, and I’ll lose some weight.”

      
“Don’t
lose too much,” requested Nick, who liked his ladies with a little
meat on their bones.

      
“I
doubt that will be a problem,” said Eulalie, who’d always had a
tendency to gain weight when she didn’t watch herself like a hawk.
Of course, in Rio Peñasco, until the advent of her sister, she didn’t
have much of a choice. Mrs. Johnson, who fixed her breakfast and dinner—Eulalie
had learned to call her three daily meals breakfast, dinner and supper
in deference to prevailing custom—fussed at her if she didn’t finish
every morsel on her plate. And, since dinner came at midday, Eulalie
ended up eating two dinners: Mrs. Johnson’s and Vernon’s. Small
wonder she was getting fat. She’d end up like her aunt Florence if
she wasn’t careful.

      
“I’ll
help you work some of it off,” Nick offered.

      
Eulalie
peeked out from behind the screen to see him grinning at her. Hmm.

      
She’d
been as nervous as a cat in a room full of coyotes—another bow to
her new home—all day long, in anticipation of the night to come. She’d
been to the local mercantile with Mrs. Johnson, who approved of the
choices Eulalie had made regarding fabrics for kitchen, bedroom and
parlor curtains. And she’d purchased everything she could think of—and
that could come by in this out-of-the-way place—that two ladies living
alone might need for their home, including sheets and pillowcases, cooking
pots and dinnerware. Nick and Junius had made them a couple of sturdy
bed frames in the blacksmith shop, and Mrs. Johnson and her daughters
had stuffed some mattresses and pillows for her.

      
Eulalie,
who appreciated the help of her friends more than she could say, had
also used the Sears and Roebuck catalogue at the Loveladys’ mercantile
emporium to order regular pillows and mattresses. Not that the corn-shuck
mattresses were uncomfortable, but poor Patsy would probably be driven
crazy by the crackling noises they made. Ever since the incident, she’d
been very jumpy.

      
Mrs.
Sullivan, another local matron whose children went to school with Mrs.
Johnson’s, had agreed to sew up the curtains for Eulalie at a price
that was much lower than Eulalie had expected. She still couldn’t
account for the way everyone in town seemed to accept her as just another
woman making her way in the world.

      
“For
heaven’s sake, Louise, I sing in a
saloon
,” she said as she
and Mrs. Johnson left Mrs. Sullivan’s little house, which sat on the
edge of town where it garnered more than its fair share of wind-whipped
dust and looked, as a result, even more derelict than most of the houses
in Rio Peñasco.

      
“Pooh,”
said Mrs. Johnson. “Everybody out here knows what it’s like for
a woman trying to earn her own living. Some of us take in boarders.
Some of us sew up curtains for other folks.”

      
“Doesn’t
Mrs. Sullivan have a husband?”

      
“Ptaw,”
said Mrs. Johnson in disgust. “Her Hubert is about as useless as tits
on a boar hog, if you don’t mind the indelicacy.”

      
“Not
at all,” murmured Eulalie, blinking in astonishment.

      
“Y’get
to know people when you need ‘em, like we do out here,” Mrs. Johnson
continued. “And Hubert Sullivan is stupid. He makes enough money,
I reckon, but he also spends a lot on his drinkin’. Just because a
woman’s married, doesn’t mean the man she’s married to is worth
a hill of beans. It’s all in a person’s character. For instance,
I know you’re a fine woman, Eulalie. So’s Miss Violet at the saloon,
but don’t go tellin’ the preacher I said so.”

      
“Oh,”
said Eulalie, flabbergasted, although she, too, believed Violet was
a fine woman, in spite of her profession. “No. I won’t.”

      
“Not
that the preacher isn’t as much a man as any other man in town, no
matter how much he pretends he’s holier than anybody else.”

      
Egad.
Eulalie wasn’t accustomed to such plain speaking from members of her
gender. Most of the women she knew had completely succumbed to the myth
that females were helpless. Then again, most women she knew back east
could
afford
to pretend they were helpless. These rugged westerners
were another matter entirely.

      
“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.”