thoughtful cast. “That’s good, Nick.”
“It
is?” Nick stared at Bernie.
“It
is?” So did Eulalie.
“New
headline,” Bernie announced, once again beaming. “A Rare and Precious
Cactus Flower Blooms in Rio Peñasco.”
Eulalie
said nothing, but continued staring at Bernie.
Nick
rolled his eyes.
Vernon
came up to the table at that moment, and plopped plates down in front
of Eulalie and Nick. “You eatin’ tonight, Bernie, or you just takin’
up space?”
Unable
to avoid the hint, Bernie rose reluctantly. “Alas, I’ve already
eaten.”
Nick
stared deliberately at Bernie’s broad belly. “That don’t usually
stop you.”
Bernie
didn’t dignify Nick’s pointed remark with an answer. Instead, he
bowed low before Eulalie once more. “It’s been a great pleasure,
Miss Gibb.”
“Likewise,”
Eulalie said. Nick got the feeling she didn’t mean it. When she held
out her hand for Bernie to shake, the bastard lifted it to his thick
lips and kissed it. Then, with one last wink, he was off.
Eulalie,
Nick, and Vernon stared after him.
“What
an unusual man,” Eulalie murmured before attacking her steak.
“He’s
unusual, all right,” muttered Vernon.
“He’s
an ass,” said Nick. Then he, too, dove into his meal.
Chapter
Four
Eulalie did not spend a peaceful
night. For one thing, a lot of noise filtered up from the floor below,
not to mention cigar smoke. For another, men in big, heavy boots walked
back and forth past her room all night long, she presumed on their way
to and from Miss Violet or one of the other girls for sale at the Opera
House. In the back of her mind, too, was the ever-present reality of
her situation in life—and that of Patsy. Eulalie never allowed herself
to forget why she’d traveled all this way and was now trying to sleep
above a noisy—and noisome—frontier saloon.
Far,
far away, in the deep recesses of her mind, Eulalie recalled older,
more peaceful days; days when she and Edward had been young and in love
and Patsy had been safe, and their family had been together and happy.
Life certainly had a way of kicking the foundations out from under one’s
feet and leaving one floundering. Eulalie did not appreciate this habit
on life’s part, and not merely because those faraway, wistful memories
made it difficult for her to sleep, as if the noise and smoke weren’t
enough.
Then
there was Nick Taggart, who was stationed right outside her door. The
mere thought of him sent strange hot flashes through Eulalie. She couldn’t
chalk up these sensations to hunger, since she’d eaten heavily, if
not well, at Vernon’s chophouse.
She
was not pleased, either with herself or her circumstances, although
she could tolerate the circumstances. She and Patsy had both decided
to put up with the discomforts of the Wild West, and the relative lack
of civilization prevailing there. But, at the ripe old age of twenty-five,
with a good deal of experience, both pleasant and unpleasant, upon which
to draw, Eulalie had believed herself long past the season when a woman
mooned about a man.
Not,
of course, that she was mooning about Nick Taggart, precisely.
It was only that every now and then she experienced a compelling urge
to open her door, reach out, grab Nick by the belt, and drag him into
her room. Unfortunately, the mental images didn’t stop there, but
Eulalie did her best to drive them out.
She
was helped in this effort by the occasional scuffle in the hallway.
She assumed these episodes occurred when a man more drunk than his fellows
attempted to get into her room past Nick, who wouldn’t let him. Although
Eulalie was as sure as anything that Nick
“It
is?” Nick stared at Bernie.
“It
is?” So did Eulalie.
“New
headline,” Bernie announced, once again beaming. “A Rare and Precious
Cactus Flower Blooms in Rio Peñasco.”
Eulalie
said nothing, but continued staring at Bernie.
Nick
rolled his eyes.
Vernon
came up to the table at that moment, and plopped plates down in front
of Eulalie and Nick. “You eatin’ tonight, Bernie, or you just takin’
up space?”
Unable
to avoid the hint, Bernie rose reluctantly. “Alas, I’ve already
eaten.”
Nick
stared deliberately at Bernie’s broad belly. “That don’t usually
stop you.”
Bernie
didn’t dignify Nick’s pointed remark with an answer. Instead, he
bowed low before Eulalie once more. “It’s been a great pleasure,
Miss Gibb.”
“Likewise,”
Eulalie said. Nick got the feeling she didn’t mean it. When she held
out her hand for Bernie to shake, the bastard lifted it to his thick
lips and kissed it. Then, with one last wink, he was off.
Eulalie,
Nick, and Vernon stared after him.
“What
an unusual man,” Eulalie murmured before attacking her steak.
“He’s
unusual, all right,” muttered Vernon.
“He’s
an ass,” said Nick. Then he, too, dove into his meal.
Chapter
Four
Eulalie did not spend a peaceful
night. For one thing, a lot of noise filtered up from the floor below,
not to mention cigar smoke. For another, men in big, heavy boots walked
back and forth past her room all night long, she presumed on their way
to and from Miss Violet or one of the other girls for sale at the Opera
House. In the back of her mind, too, was the ever-present reality of
her situation in life—and that of Patsy. Eulalie never allowed herself
to forget why she’d traveled all this way and was now trying to sleep
above a noisy—and noisome—frontier saloon.
Far,
far away, in the deep recesses of her mind, Eulalie recalled older,
more peaceful days; days when she and Edward had been young and in love
and Patsy had been safe, and their family had been together and happy.
Life certainly had a way of kicking the foundations out from under one’s
feet and leaving one floundering. Eulalie did not appreciate this habit
on life’s part, and not merely because those faraway, wistful memories
made it difficult for her to sleep, as if the noise and smoke weren’t
enough.
Then
there was Nick Taggart, who was stationed right outside her door. The
mere thought of him sent strange hot flashes through Eulalie. She couldn’t
chalk up these sensations to hunger, since she’d eaten heavily, if
not well, at Vernon’s chophouse.
She
was not pleased, either with herself or her circumstances, although
she could tolerate the circumstances. She and Patsy had both decided
to put up with the discomforts of the Wild West, and the relative lack
of civilization prevailing there. But, at the ripe old age of twenty-five,
with a good deal of experience, both pleasant and unpleasant, upon which
to draw, Eulalie had believed herself long past the season when a woman
mooned about a man.
Not,
of course, that she was mooning about Nick Taggart, precisely.
It was only that every now and then she experienced a compelling urge
to open her door, reach out, grab Nick by the belt, and drag him into
her room. Unfortunately, the mental images didn’t stop there, but
Eulalie did her best to drive them out.
She
was helped in this effort by the occasional scuffle in the hallway.
She assumed these episodes occurred when a man more drunk than his fellows
attempted to get into her room past Nick, who wouldn’t let him. Although
Eulalie was as sure as anything that Nick
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