Authors: Alice Duncan
“But
there are so many people out there,” Patsy said in something of a
whimper.
“They’re
all our friends, Patsy. They love you.”
“And
there’s Gabriel,” said Patsy, perking up a trifle.
“Yes,”
Eulalie agreed. “There’s Gabriel.” And there was Nick, too. Eulalie’s
heart trilled like a meadowlark in the springtime.
Uncle
Harry escorted the sisters down the aisle. When they entered the little
church on either side of him, Eulalie couldn’t help but think that
Nick was the most handsome man present, although Gabriel appeared quite
spiffy in his uniform. Eulalie, who knew how much Nick disliked public
displays like this one, was thrilled to see him smiling at her, as if
he didn’t mind being the spectacle of the day. She loved him more
than ever.
Other
members of the Gibb Theatrical Company provided music for the ceremony,
with Gibb cousins Marcus and Horatia singing, accompanied on the piano
by Aunt Florence. The two little Johnson girls acted as the brides’
attendants. Junius was Nick’s best man, and Lieutenant Willoughby
Nash served the same role for Gabriel Fuller. The Johnson boys were
groomsmen. Outside the church after the ceremony, representatives from
the First Cavalry, swords crossed, created a canopy of sorts, under
which both happy couples, arms entwined, walked toward the Rio Peñasco
Opera House, which was closed today in honor of the event.
“Figgered
it was the least I could do,” said Dooley Chivers, his cigar drooping.
“After all, she was shot right there on the stage.” Since Dooley
was, this day, losing the greatest draw the Opera House had ever seen,
Eulalie, along with everyone in town, considered this a magnanimous
gesture on his part.
Bernie
Benson wrote several articles, both about the wedding itself and about
the participants therein. He expected an influx of citizens to the village
of Rio Peñasco once they read his vivid prose. Nick told him not to
hold his breath, but Bernie was nothing if not optimistic.
The
party lasted far into the night. Uncles Harry and Junius discovered
in each other kindred spirits. Aunt Florence’s interest in Junius
couldn’t have been more obvious, and it was reciprocated with gusto.
“I
swear, Nick, I’m glad people only get married once in their lives,”
whispered Eulalie as the two lay together, sated and very much in love,
after sneaking away from the party about three in the morning. “I
didn’t think I could go through this more than once.”
“Hell,
I hadn’t planned on getting married
that
often,” muttered
Nick. He did it out of a sense of obligation, however, and didn’t
really mean it. He loved his Eulalie.
She
didn’t see it that way. “Curse you, Nick Taggart.” She smacked
his naked arm lightly.
With
a deep chuckle, Nick turned and captured her luscious body in his huge
arms. “But now that we’re married, I’ll be damned if I’ll ever
let you go.”
She
hugged him back, hard. “You’d better not.” After a moment of delicious
intimacy, she whispered, “But I’m still wondering, Nick. Since you
hate marriage so much, why did you insist that we get married?”
“Me?
Did I insist?”
She
smacked him again. “Yes, you did, and you know it!”
He
thought for a while. Then he contemplated the nature of the disclosure
he could make. Then he remembered his stepmother and stepsisters. And
then he realized that Eulalie Gibb bore no resemblance whatsoever to
that flock of pernicious females, so he decided to just go ahead and
admit it.
“Aw,
hell, Eulalie, I love you.”
There.
The truth was out. Nick waited for her scorn.
She
tightened her arms around him. “Oh, Nick, I love you, too. I love
you so much, I can hardly stand it.”
He
drew away slightly and stared at her, confounded. “You mean it? You
love me? Me? Nick Taggart? Blacksmith?”
“Yes!”
“Well,
I’ll be damned.”
But
he wasn’t. He was blessed, and so was his wife.
And
so, when they arrived, were their children, who grew and thrived in
Rio Peñasco, New Mexico Territory.
About
the Author
In
an effort to avoid what she knew she should be doing with her life (writing—it
sounded so hard), for several years she expressed her creative side
by dancing and singing. She belonged to two professional international
folk-dance groups and also sang in a Balkan women's choir. She got to
sing the tenor drone for the most part, but at least it was interesting
work. In her next life, she’d like to come back as a soprano.
In
September of 1996, Alice and her herd of wild dachshunds moved from
Pasadena, CA, to Roswell, NM, where her mother's family settled fifty
years before the aliens crashed. She loves writing because in her books
she can portray the world the way it should be instead of the way it
is, which often stinks. She started writing books in October of 1992,
and sold her first one in January of 1994. That book, ONE BRIGHT MORNING,
was published by Harper in January of 1995 (and won the HOLT Medallion
for best first book published in 1995). Alice hopes she can continue
to write forever!