Wicked Wyoming Nights (32 page)

“You know you shouldn’t talk like that,” protested Eliza, pretending to be scandalized, though she was gradually getting used to Lucy’s forthright conversation.

“It’s time
somebody
talked to you, for sticking your head in the sand never taught anybody anything. Now go look at yourself in the mirror and thank the Good Lord he didn’t see fit to make you look like me.”

Eliza felt a thrill of excitement when she saw her reflection in the mirror, and her first thought was to wonder if Cord would think she was pretty. The question was even more portentous because she was wearing so many of his gifts. She doubted if she would have had the courage to take them out of their boxes, but Lucy had practically made her wear them. In the end, she had only given in because she was certain Cord would not be at the party. It was true she didn’t have anything else half as becoming, but if he were to see her covered with his presents, he might think she was no longer so determined to keep him at a distance, and she didn’t think she could stand the strain of denying him again.

She had thought about him nearly every minute for the last three weeks, but thinking had neither changed her mind nor healed her heart, so she forced herself to try to put him out of her thoughts.

Her milk-white skin and near-black hair were a perfect complement in color and texture to the rich lushness of the red velvet. Cord’s pearl earrings hung from the lobes of her ears, and a choker made of ruby-red stones, the only piece of jewelry Eliza inherited from her mother, was fitted around her slim throat. There was just enough color in her cheeks to prevent her face from looking pale, and for the first time she had allowed Lucy to lightly tint her lips with a red color borrowed from Iris.

“You might as well use it,” Iris had said with good-natured generosity. “But if I thought there was any way I could get away before midnight, I’d burn it first. You’ll look stunning, and nobody will notice me unless I go naked.”

Iris was right. Eliza did look stunning, and when Lucy threw the minks over her shoulders, she felt like a princess about to step out of a storybook.

“You’re wasted in this town,” Lucy wailed. “With your voice and sweet disposition, you could have Chicago and New York at your feet. Men would shower you with jewels and fight duels just to sit next to you.”

“Then it’s just as well I’m here in Buffalo,” Eliza observed, reluctantly turning away from the agreeable picture of herself.

Croley’s senses, if not his heart, were almost as powerfully affected. He came into the room just before Lucy drew the heavy cloak over Eliza’s shoulders, and even though he had become accustomed to her looks, the sight of her nearly made him speechless.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, gasping in surprise.

“She certainly is, but don’t you go getting any ideas about showing her off downstairs. I was in a riot once, and I can tell you it wasn’t a pretty thing.” Lucy tied the cloak under Eliza’s chin and fitted the capacious hood over her head. “She’s sneaking out the back door and being delivered in a rented carriage. Ain’t nobody going to see her who isn’t at that party.”

But Croley had an idea, one that was as new and unexpected as it was pleasant to contemplate, and as Lucy shepherded Eliza out the back door, a broad smile spread over his face.

“It was your decision to go, so stop dragging your feet and get dressed” Ginny said, prodding Cord. “It’s rude to put off getting dressed until you’re late.”

Cord rose from the table and headed toward his room without comment. Attending this party was definitely not the kind of thing he usually did, any more than it was usual for him to receive such an invitation, but he had accepted it hoping for a chance to talk to Eliza.

She hadn’t spoken to him since breaking their engagement after Ira’s trial. Cord was not one to let unfavorable conditions influence his actions, but half the population of Johnson County had been at the courthouse that afternoon and not one of them had had a good word to say for the Matador outfit. He was willing to fight any man, even with the odds against him, but not for one minute had he considered trying to convince Eliza of his continuing love in front of such a hostile audience. That would have required him to admit strangers into the knowledge of his most deeply felt emotions, and on that level Cord was as vulnerable as any other man.

Cord stripped off his shirt to reveal a muscular torso with a thick, walnut-colored fur covering his chest and upper arms. With swift clean strokes, he removed his pants and underclothes, standing naked before stepping into his bath. He was totally unconscious of a body that would have caused nine out of ten women to swoon, and one Eliza could describe in minute detail without stopping to think. Endless hours spent in the saddle and wrestling steers to the ground had kept his muscles supple and rippling, while his abdomen was taut and the hips firm and well rounded. Gripping the sides of countless horses bad given him powerful thighs and firm calves. The glory of his physique had never been more than barely masked by the tight, functional clothes he wore, but freed of their restraining cover, his was a body that could cause women to risk much for a chance to be in his arms. His manhood, denied its pleasure and sensitive to the slightest touch or change in pressure, hung stiffly between his legs, half aroused with longing, half deflated with neglect.

Cord stepped into the tub and allowed the steaming water to come up to his chin. The heat felt good. The room was cold and his body tense from work and worry. Slowly his knotted muscles relaxed and he spread out his full length, luxuriating in the hot water, and letting his mind break free of the around-the-clock watchfulness he had imposed upon himself. As usual, when there was the slightest break in his concentration, and many times when there wasn’t, thoughts of Eliza filled his mind.

He hadn’t anticipated Eliza’s reaction to her uncle’s arrest. He had come to think of her interests as inseparable from his own, and had assumed she would side with him if forced to choose; he had been stunned when she hadn’t. He couldn’t understand how she could be willing to marry him in the teeth of her uncle’s opposition, then turn around and break their engagement to stand by Ira when he was clearly guilty.

But it was inconceivable to him that he should back down from his stand, even though Ella Baylis never missed an opportunity to tell him what a fool he was. His property, his very existence, was being threatened, and he had to fight back. He had prevented the boys from administering their usual beating because he knew someone was behind Ira and he had hoped Ira would expose them, but the little man had demonstrated more courage than Cord had expected, and had maintained such an attitude of righteous indignation throughout the trial you would have thought Cord was the one guilty of a crime.

Eliza had appeared at her uncle’s side when he entered the courthouse looking stoically unemotional, but Cord was watching when Ira admitted that he
had
tried to steal the steer, and her hard-won control buckled in the face of that brazen admission. Cord knew then that Ira had let Eliza go on believing in his innocence, knowing all the while he would have to admit his guilt in court. He felt sorry for her, but he was proud of the way she had held her head up throughout the trial.

Cord could only guess at what she had been forced to endure in private because after that night at the jail, she had been careful not to come near him. He had understood Eugenia’s motives when she threw him over, but not even Ella’s efforts to explain Eliza’s behavior helped.

He was certain Eliza was still the same honest, loving woman he had learned to adore and that she still loved him just as much as before, so he couldn’t understand why she would break their engagement and refuse to see him just because her uncle had been caught trying to do what hundreds of others were doing all over Wyoming.

Cord stood up in the bath, like Neptune rising from the sea, and toweled himself briskly until he was dry and his skin angled. Then he washed his hair with a scented soap, dried it in the same ruthless manner, and brushed it until his whole head was covered in a thick mat of wavy hair that glistened in the lamplight like Eliza’s minks. Then, completely unconscious of his nakedness, he shaved.

He ached so severely for Eliza it was beginning to affect his work. Not even Franklin dared mention it, but he hadn’t missed the looks of surprise when he missed what they said to him or was slow to move out of the way of a steer. That was dangerous, and something Cord had never done before.

He pulled on his underpants, unconsciously smoothing them over the still-sensitive groin, and chose a stiff, white shirt from Ginny’s carefully ironed pile. He wondered what Eliza would be wearing. Would she wear any of his gifts? He stepped into his form-fitting black pants and buttoned them up, being careful to tuck the shirt in so it wouldn’t wrinkle the rigid front. He remembered the scent of her hair, the feel of her skin, and wondered what they felt and smelled like tonight. Had she used the perfume, the one he’d bought by the quarter ounce?

Cord struggled with his tie. He had seldom worn dress clothes, and while he didn’t feel uneasy in them, he had trouble getting the recalcitrant tie to do his bidding. At last it was tied to his satisfaction, and he reached for the swallow-tailed coat. He had purchased this suit in Chicago, and he’d never seen himself in it before. He turned in front of the mirror, plainly unsure of what he saw. What he did see tempted him to change into his trusty black suit, but Jessica Burton’s invitation had plainly stated dress would be formal, and the salesman had assured him this was the only formal attire for a man of his standing. He gave his glistening hair a few final brushes and then reached into a large box and extracted a hat, which he set gingerly on his head.

Eugenia would be shocked to see him now, he thought with a smile. All he needed was a cane and an eyeglass and he’d look just like those slick dudes she used to admire.

Thoughts of Eugenia no longer had the power to disturb him, but they inevitably led to Eliza. He took the hat from his head, found his overcoat, and went downstairs. If he didn’t get a chance to speak to her soon, he was going to do something desperate.

“Look what a haircut and a bath have done to this dust-covered cowboy,” Franklin said when his boss came into the front hall.

“It took more than a bathtub,” said Cord with a grimace.

“You look good enough to eat,” Ginny said, giggling. Cord’s love for Eliza was an open secret at the Matador, but neither Ginny or Franklin dared hint that Cord had gone to all this trouble for Eliza. Ginny was incensed that Eliza would turn her back on Cord, but she was careful not to let Cord see her resentment.

“Don’t wait up. I expect I’ll be rather late.”

“Besides which you’re taking Sturgis with you,” Ginny added with dancing eyes.

“You’re both very good to worry so much about me,” Cord said. “I’m very fortunate to have you.”

“Oh, go on,” said Ginny, blushing. “Have a good time and remember every detail. I’ll never get invited to a party like that, and I’m counting on you to tell me what it’s like.”

“I’ll do my best, but you know how I am.”

“Hopeless, unless you want to be,” Ginny said, teasing him.

“Good luck,” Franklin called after him. They both knew what he meant.

Chapter 24

Eliza was enjoying the party; she actually smiled at a pleasantry made by one of the town’s substantial citizens who was making a foolishly gallant attempt to entertain her. His wife regarded her husband’s effort with accepting tolerance. After all, Eliza had an unblemished reputation, and what could he do right under Ella Baylis’s nose?

“Wiley, get us something to drink and make sure it’s cold,” Ella commanded. “I’m about to burn up. I’ll never understand why Jessica can’t keep her invitations to a reasonable number.”

“I thought her list was very exclusive,” observed Eliza as her admirer went in search of the required refreshments.

“The first one is, but by the time Melissa and Sanford are through making additions, and Jessica
condescends
to invite a few more souls, the party is twice the size it ought to be and everyone is squeezed tight as sardines. After a few waltzes they start to smell about as bad.”

“Then I promise not to dance.”

“You have to. You and Melissa are the only young gals present. And if you think old men want to dance with old women, you don’t know old men.” Ella’s eyes searched the room. “Where’s your young man?”

“I’ve told you, I don’t have a young man,” Eliza said, her mood plummeting at the thought of Cord. “I neither know nor care where he is.”

“If you’re going to start telling lies, you’ve got to learn to do it better. Land sakes, girl, a baby could tell the mere mention of his name sends you into the dismals. If he were to walk through that door, you’d faint.”

“But he can’t. I mean, I wouldn’t. I’m sure he wasn’t invited.”

“He was, for Melissa, but apparently he decided not to come. That’s put Jessica a bit out of temper.”

“Why for Melissa?”

“Don’t be a fool. Jessica has a daughter to establish, and everyone knows Cord is the most eligible man within a hundred miles. Now that you’ve made it unnecessarily clear you’ll have nothing more to do with him, the hopefuls are closing in.”

“Iris has already told me she’s going after him.”

“He’d be better off with her than Melissa. She’s no fool, for all she doesn’t have fancy grades and school prizes to prove she’s smart.”