Taggart wasn’t a man with
whom it would be wise to become involved, she appreciated his bulldog
attitude regarding her safety. Not to mention his redoubtable physical
attributes, which she wished she’d never noticed. Drat the man.
After
what seemed like hours of wakefulness, which Eulalie spent alternately
praying for her safety, praying for Patsy’s safety, trying to remember
Edward’s sweet face—which had an unfortunate tendency to waver and
dissolve into the face of Nick Taggart—and wishing she had Nick Taggart
with her in bed, Eulalie finally fell asleep. The blissful condition
lasted until a particularly loud noise from the hallway jerked her awake.
Sitting
up and hugging the sheet to her modestly covered bosom, her heart slamming
against her ribcage like waves at the Jersey shore, Eulalie tried to
shake leftover strands of sleep out of her brain. Another loud noise
made her start. This one sounded like a dozen bowling balls falling
down several flights of stairs. Understanding that this was unlikely,
but also quite curious, Eulalie glanced at the clock on her bedside
table, saw that it was after three in the morning, and deduced that
it might be safe to investigate the source of those unsettling sounds.
Probably all the men who’d been drinking in the saloon downstairs
had either drunk themselves into a stupor or gone home by that time.
She
waited what seemed a prudent interval after the last loud noise before
she crawled out of bed, grabbed the robe she’d thrown down at its
foot, put it on, went to the door, unlatched it, opened it six inches,
and peeked outside. She’d taken the precaution of putting on her spectacles
since she didn’t care to be surprised if anything untoward lurked
in the hallway.
It
was dark out there. She couldn’t see a thing. Eulalie cleared her
throat softly. “Mr. Taggart?”
Nick
Taggart’s voice came to her out of the gloom. “Yeah?”
He
sounded grumpy. Oh, dear. “Um … I heard a big noise. It … ah …
woke me up.”
“Yeah?
You’re lucky you were able to get to sleep at all.”
She
hoped he wasn’t going to be fussy about having to stay up all night
in the hallway to protect her. It had been his suggestion, after all.
Eulalie determined it would be better not to remind him. “Yes. I suppose
so. Um … is everything all right?”
“Sure.
Everything’s fine and dandy. I just threw Gus Nichols down the stairs.”
Aha.
So that was it. She gulped. “Oh.”
“Gus
is an all right sort of fellow, but he don’t take hints.”
“Oh.”
After
a pause, Nick said, “You probably better go back to bed now.”
“Yes.
Thank you.” Although she wasn’t certain why she was being so cautious,
Eulalie moved as softly and quietly as she could when she closed her
door and latched it. She hadn’t bothered to light a candle before
she left her bed, so she had to feel her way back to it.
Sporadic
scuffles continued to filter through the door to her ears, and it occurred
to Eulalie that, while she and Patsy had read everything they could
about the West and the people dwelling therein, they might possibly
have underestimated the perils the West contained for youngish, single
females. This might be especially true for females who were perceived
as belonging to a profession not generally considered respectable. She
took a few moments to decry the unfairness of life, but knew they were
wasted. Whether it was fair or not, life was life, and it had to be
dealt with.
Therefore,
she pondered the man stationed outside her door and allowed as to how
she might possibly have made a mistake with him. Not that she knew at
the time that Nick Taggart would prove to be a big, lusty male with
protective instincts. For
whom it would be wise to become involved, she appreciated his bulldog
attitude regarding her safety. Not to mention his redoubtable physical
attributes, which she wished she’d never noticed. Drat the man.
After
what seemed like hours of wakefulness, which Eulalie spent alternately
praying for her safety, praying for Patsy’s safety, trying to remember
Edward’s sweet face—which had an unfortunate tendency to waver and
dissolve into the face of Nick Taggart—and wishing she had Nick Taggart
with her in bed, Eulalie finally fell asleep. The blissful condition
lasted until a particularly loud noise from the hallway jerked her awake.
Sitting
up and hugging the sheet to her modestly covered bosom, her heart slamming
against her ribcage like waves at the Jersey shore, Eulalie tried to
shake leftover strands of sleep out of her brain. Another loud noise
made her start. This one sounded like a dozen bowling balls falling
down several flights of stairs. Understanding that this was unlikely,
but also quite curious, Eulalie glanced at the clock on her bedside
table, saw that it was after three in the morning, and deduced that
it might be safe to investigate the source of those unsettling sounds.
Probably all the men who’d been drinking in the saloon downstairs
had either drunk themselves into a stupor or gone home by that time.
She
waited what seemed a prudent interval after the last loud noise before
she crawled out of bed, grabbed the robe she’d thrown down at its
foot, put it on, went to the door, unlatched it, opened it six inches,
and peeked outside. She’d taken the precaution of putting on her spectacles
since she didn’t care to be surprised if anything untoward lurked
in the hallway.
It
was dark out there. She couldn’t see a thing. Eulalie cleared her
throat softly. “Mr. Taggart?”
Nick
Taggart’s voice came to her out of the gloom. “Yeah?”
He
sounded grumpy. Oh, dear. “Um … I heard a big noise. It … ah …
woke me up.”
“Yeah?
You’re lucky you were able to get to sleep at all.”
She
hoped he wasn’t going to be fussy about having to stay up all night
in the hallway to protect her. It had been his suggestion, after all.
Eulalie determined it would be better not to remind him. “Yes. I suppose
so. Um … is everything all right?”
“Sure.
Everything’s fine and dandy. I just threw Gus Nichols down the stairs.”
Aha.
So that was it. She gulped. “Oh.”
“Gus
is an all right sort of fellow, but he don’t take hints.”
“Oh.”
After
a pause, Nick said, “You probably better go back to bed now.”
“Yes.
Thank you.” Although she wasn’t certain why she was being so cautious,
Eulalie moved as softly and quietly as she could when she closed her
door and latched it. She hadn’t bothered to light a candle before
she left her bed, so she had to feel her way back to it.
Sporadic
scuffles continued to filter through the door to her ears, and it occurred
to Eulalie that, while she and Patsy had read everything they could
about the West and the people dwelling therein, they might possibly
have underestimated the perils the West contained for youngish, single
females. This might be especially true for females who were perceived
as belonging to a profession not generally considered respectable. She
took a few moments to decry the unfairness of life, but knew they were
wasted. Whether it was fair or not, life was life, and it had to be
dealt with.
Therefore,
she pondered the man stationed outside her door and allowed as to how
she might possibly have made a mistake with him. Not that she knew at
the time that Nick Taggart would prove to be a big, lusty male with
protective instincts. For
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