Cactus Flower (28 page)

      
“Sometimes
I wonder about that,” said Patsy softly. “If I’d only been more
firm with Mr. Blankenship when he first started coming around, perhaps
none of this would have happened.”

      
“The
man’s a lunatic, Patsy. It wouldn’t have mattered what you did,”
Eulalie said firmly. She didn’t want her sister to sink into a melancholic
state. This was going to be hard enough on the both of them without
having to battle bleak and wintry moods.

      
“Do
you really think so?”

      
“Yes.
I really think so.”

      
Patsy
sat with a sigh, her chair, too, facing west. “Perhaps you’re right.”
She gazed into the firmament for a moment or two. The sun was low on
the western horizon, and the clouds piling up in the deep-blue sky were
edged with silver. The clouds themselves ranged from light pink to brilliant
orange in streaks and slashes. “Oh, my, the sky is wonderful, isn’t
it?”

      
“It’s
the most beautiful sky I’ve ever seen. It’s always beautiful.”
Eulalie hesitated, then added, “It sort of makes up for the landscape.”

      
Patsy’s
low chuckle made her glad she’d said it. “Yes. I see what you mean,
although I must say it’s not as bad as I’d expected.”

      
“Really?”
Turning to assess the truthfulness of her sister’s statement, Eulalie
was surprised to find that Patsy appeared content.

      
“Really.”

      
The
sisters sat in silence, watching the western sky’s landscape change
as they observed it. Eulalie felt a strange sense of peace pervade her
being. For so many months, she’d been tense and worried and anxious.
The move to Rio Peñasco, for all her outer bravado, had been terrifying.
The wide-open spaces she’d heard so much about had made her feel insignificant,
as if she might be swallowed whole and no one the wiser if she weren’t
careful. She’d been frightened of the huge men she’d encountered
here—starting with Junius Taggart and Nicholas Taggart—and she’d
been terribly concerned that the ladies in the town would shun her because
of her occupation.

      
But
she’d discovered soon enough that the ladies in town were starved
for companionship and new stories, and that the Taggarts and most of
the other fellows in town might be rough around the edges, but they
were good, decent people. In fact, although her heart ached when she
admitted it, she loved one of them very much. And she was becoming accustomed
to the vastness of the landscape. She didn’t feel nearly as lost as
she had when she first arrived. In fact, she had a funny feeling that
she might find the tall buildings and constant trees of her home state
of New York a little confining now.

      
She
was lost in contemplation of the sky, which was rapidly losing its color,
when Nick showed up. His approach was virtually silent, something of
a miracle for so large a fellow. Eulalie presumed he’d seen Patsy
and her in the backyard, because he didn’t knock at the front door,
but just appeared before them. His arrival was unexpected, and gave
Patsy something of a start. Eulalie reached out and took her hand.

      
“It’s
only Nick, Patsy,” she said softly.

      
“Sorry,
ma’am. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

      
“Oh,
no, Mr. Taggart, please don’t apologize. I’d only been so lost in
the sunset I didn’t hear you approach.”

      
“You
ladies mind some company?”

      
Eulalie
was a little surprised that Nick seemed ill at ease. She’d never seen
evidence of anything other than pure masculine dominance from this quarter.

      
“I’m
sure we would be happy for some company,” Patsy said softly.

      
She’d
averted her face, not that Nick could see her very well in the dark.
But Eulalie knew that the moon and stars would soon be out, and then
the night would be bright enough for Nick to discern Patsy’s scars.
Her heart gave another twang.

      
“Why
don’t you bring out another chair, Nick? You can set it here, next
to me.” That would put him a whole person away from Patsy and make
her sister feel slightly less uncomfortable. Besides, she wanted to
feel him near her. She was absolutely lost, she thought glumly. She
was in love with a man who not only disparaged marriage as an institution,
but who didn’t have a very high opinion of women, either.

      
“Be
right back,” he said, and vanished into the kitchen.

      
“He’s
very nice, isn’t he?” said Patsy after Nick left.

      
“Yes,”
said Eulalie, surprising herself. “He is.” How she’d misjudged
him at first, she couldn’t imagine. She supposed she’d been so full
of fear and trepidation, it had taken a while to allow herself the luxury
of evaluating him by his actions. She’d been so determined not to
be taken advantage of that she’d mistrusted everyone she met. She
knew Nick had resented it, too.

      
With
a sigh, she wished they could start over again, and this time get off
on the right foot together. But, as she knew too well, life didn’t
work that way.

      
Nick
placed his chair beside hers, and before she realized what she was doing
she reached out for his hand. “Thanks for visiting, Nick. Would you
like something to drink?” Since this wasn’t New York or Chicago,
the “something to drink” would have to be water, but Nick already
knew that.

      
“No,
thanks. Just thought I’d come over to see how you ladies are settling
in.” He gave her hand a soft squeeze, and Eulalie felt better about
things.

      
“Everyone
has been very kind to me,” said Patsy. “And I can’t thank you
enough for the lovely house you built for Eulalie and me, Mr. Taggart.”

      
“Aw,
it was nothing,” said Nick.

      
Eulalie
believed he actually meant that. How odd that two men in Rio Peñasco,
New Mexico Territory, could build an entire house in a couple of weeks
and think nothing of it. When she considered how many people it took
to build houses back home, and how long it took them to do so, her mind
almost boggled.

      
As
the sky darkened and the moon and stars began to shine, Patsy’s reaction
to the glories of these territorial heavens was everything Eulalie had
anticipated. Nick continued to hold her hand, which she hadn’t anticipated,
but which she appreciated.

      
“My
goodness,” Patsy whispered. “I’ve never seen so many stars in
my life.”

      
“It’s
astonishing, isn’t it?” Eulalie laughed gently.

      
“It
certainly is.”

      
“Guess
I’m used to it,” said Nick. “But it’s real pretty.”

      
In
the distance a coyote yipped.

      
“What’s
that?” Patsy sounded wary.

      
“Coyote,”
said Nick. “There’s lot of ‘em out there on the desert.”

      
“Oh,
my, I’ve heard of coyotes,” said Patsy.

      
“Kind
of a lonely sound, if you ask me,” said Nick. “But maybe that’s
my own fancy.”

      
“I
don’t think so,” said Eulalie. “They always make me shiver a little
bit.” She thought of something Patsy might enjoy. “Wait until you
see the owls out here, Patsy. They’re little spotted brown things,
and they dig their nests in the ground.”

      
“In
the ground?” Patsy sounded as though she suspected Eulalie of teasing
her.

      
“Yup,”
said Nick, taking over for Eulalie. “They’re screech owls.”

      
“That’s
right,” agreed Eulalie. “None of your civilized hooting for these
fellows. I made the mistake of walking up to an owl’s burrow, and
got screeched at for my efforts. What’s more, the owl then dived at
me and bumped my head. They have rather sharp talons.”

      
“Good
heavens.”

      
“I
suspect he was protecting his young. It’s that time of year, when
the owlets hatch,” said Nick.

      
“True,”
said Eulalie.

      
“Reckon
this is kind of rough country,” Nick said, sounding slightly defensive
to Eulalie’s sensitive ears. “But I think those owls have the right
idea. Too bad more human pas don’t care enough to protect their kids.”

      
Both
sisters turned to look at Nick. Eulalie couldn’t see him well, but
she noticed the set of his jaw and wondered if his own childhood experience
had given him a certain respect for the bloodthirsty nature of a father
owl’s protective instincts toward his young. Her heart ached a little,
and she felt a compulsion to reassure him. “It is rough, but it’s
… oh, I don’t know. I think it’s marvelous, too. It’s certainly
not an easy country. Every plant has thorns, and every creature is poisonous
or has claws or something. But you get used to it after a while. In
fact, I’ve come to like it a lot.”

      
“I’m
glad,” said Patsy.

      
“And
I agree with you about some human fathers.” Her brain had begun recalling
and sorting through instances of human fathers’ insensitivity to the
welfare of their children. She’d seen it often enough in New York,
and even out here, although to a lesser extent. She spared a moment
to be grateful for her own male relatives, all of whom, except perhaps
her cousin Josiah Gibb, who drank to excess, were responsible and caring
individuals. “As for the land, I think it’s funny that most of the
native plants and creatures are either poisonous or full of spikes.
I love it, but you have to be careful. We have scorpions, tarantulas,
rattlesnakes, perfectly hideous insects called vinegarones, coyotes,
and even the occasional cougar.”

      
“Goodness,
what a dismal topic of conversation,” muttered Patsy.

      
Eulalie
sensed her uneasiness, and decided she probably shouldn’t have pointed
out the relative harshness of Patsy’s new home and the callous natures
of some men. To make up for it, she said, “But the people here are
wonderful. They make up for the … er, hardness of the country.”

      
Nick
wished she hadn’t mentioned hardness. The only reason he’d come
over here tonight was because he’d been in a state of semi-arousal
all day long, and it was mighty uncomfortable. He’d been hoping maybe
Patsy would be sleeping by this time. Glancing over to see if he might
catch a glimpse of a yawn or another indication of impending exhaustion,
he was startled when the moonlight revealed a terrible scar on her cheek.
He turned away again instantly, but his heart had suffered a severe
spasm. He hated when it did that. This was especially true since he’d
been doing his very best since his sixteenth year to harden that organ
against the manipulations of the female of the species.

      
He
wasn’t sure how Eulalie’s sister’s terrible scar could constitute
manipulation, but he’d learned a long time ago to view all indications
of feminine weakness with deep suspicion. Still, he wondered how she’d
got that scar. Eulalie had told him Patsy had been involved in an accident.
Could she have fibbed to him? It seemed mighty unlikely that a scar
like that had been inflicted accidentally—unless hers was a circus
family. That possibility hadn’t occurred to him until now. Hmm …

      
“Say,”
he said casually, “you said your family acts, didn’t you?”

      
“Yes,”
said Eulalie.

      
“Indeed.”
Nick heard the smile in Patsy’s voice.

      
“Do
any of them do any circus work?”

      
“Circus
work?” Eulalie sounded puzzled. “You mean like trapeze acts and
things like that?”

      
He
was actually thinking of knife-throwers, but he said, “Yeah. Bareback
riding. Sword swallowing. That sort of thing.” He supposed a sword
might account for that scar, but the notion gave him the shivers.

      
“No.”

      
He
glanced over once more and saw that both sisters were shaking their
heads. Which meant they were either telling the truth or lying. Which
also meant that, as usual, he didn’t know what to believe.

      
Damn
it! He wished like thunder that females weren’t so damned difficult
to interpret.

      
“Ah,”
said he. “Just wondered. When I was a boy, I wanted to run away and
join the circus.” He’d wanted to run away, at any rate.

      
“I
understand that’s a common ambition among little boys,” said Eulalie.

      
“I
suppose so.”

      
He
heard a rustling sound and turned to see Patsy rising from her chair.
She kept her face averted from his vision, and again his heart crunched
painfully. However she’d received that awful scar, it embarrassed
her. Poor thing.

      
Unless
she’d deserved it, he reminded himself. Even as he did so, he knew
he was being irrational. Nobody deserved to be hurt like that. The Gibb
girls might be female, but so far they hadn’t exhibited the demonic
attributes his stepmother and stepsisters had possessed in such abundance.
He was still withholding judgment, but he sensed Patsy was more to be
pitied than blamed for whatever accident had befallen her.