Cactus Flower (25 page)

      
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”
dogging 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.