Eugenia's Embrace

He laughed loudly. "Didn't I tell you already that I wouldn't leave you? Not as long as you want me."

"I hope you're not joshin' me."

Adam grasped Eugenia's shoulders and turned her gaze to meet his, his eyes wide, laughin

g back at her. "Hey! What talk comin' from a madam. Joshin'? Where did you pick that up from?"

"I didn't add that to my story," she said. "When I first came to Cripple Creek I had the most horrendous English. I took lessons. That's why I don't use slang."

"I think I'd welcome some slang from your full, pouting lips, Eugenia," he said, laughing once again. Then he grew serious as his hands dropped away from her. He plucked another stem of grass and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.

"If I did have to leave," he said quietly. "Would you come with me?"

"Would… I… ?"

His gaze met hers once again. "Yes. Would you come with me? Be my wife?"

"Your wife?" she exclaimed. "We only really met yesterday. How could you be so sure, to ask me to marry you?"

He took her hands in his. "Eugenia, you told me your life history. Don't you think I can be judge of who I'd like to be my wife?"

She looked away from him, blushing. She then looked up at the sun, trying to explain the blush away. "It's durn hot on this mountain, ain't it?"

Adam flew into a fit of laughter. "Yep. It shure is," he said. "But are you tryin' to evade my question?"

"Adam, I just don't know what to say," she finally did answer. "I have many responsibilities to the girls at my house. What would they do without me?"

"Damn it, Eugenia," he shouted, spitting the weed from his mouth. "Do you think you're the only madam in that whole Goddamn town? You're not meant to be a madam. You're meant to be loved and to be a mother. Damn. Will you just forget about that whorehouse you run?"

Eugenia jumped up and began to stomp away from him. She hated the name "whore," especially when used to describe the girls in her house. She knew the reasons why they had all been made to be as they are and knew that they would have never chosen to be "whores" if they had a choice. She placed her feet in the stirrups and swung herself atop Adam's horse. Digging her feet into the horse's sides, she began to ride away from Adam, knowing that he wouldn't be able to catch up with her right away because he had his saddle to replace. She set her jaw, wondering why he had ruined a perfect moment for the two of them. He knew how she felt about the girls, and most certainly knew that she detested the vulgar word he had used to describe her girls.

She snapped the reins against the horse's body and was glad to see the town come into view. She didn't want to talk any further with Adam. Not today. He had inflicted a deep wound, one that would have to heal before she was ready to face him once again. She would give him time to think over what he had said.

Pulling the horse to a halt in front of her house, she tied the reins onto the hitching post and hurried inside, stopping only long enough to get a glimpse of Adam in the distance, having just turned onto Myers Avenue.

Slamming the door behind her, she leaned against it heavily, taking deep breaths. She looked upward, and all around her, hearing the silence. Then her eyes shot upward again, wondering where everyone was. Then Alison came bustling down the stairs toward her.

"Where the hell have you been, Eugenia?" she snapped, her eyes dark.

"I've been riding with Adam. Why?"

"Come on into the parlor with me," Alison said, soothing her tone of voice to a murmur.

"Okay. But spit it out. What's troubling you?" Eugenia said, loosening the blouse from around her neck, fanning herself with the back of her hand.

"You'd better sit down, Eugenia," Alison said, guiding Eugenia by the elbow to a chair.

"Will you quit treating me like an invalid," Eugenia snapped, refusing to sit. "Tell me what's wrong. Will you?"

Alison clasped her hands in front of her. "It's Frederick."

Something grabbed at Eugenia's heart, remembering how badly he had looked of late. "What about Frederick?" she mumbled.

"He had a heart attack at the Opera House while Leonora Jackson was giving a violin concert."

Eugenia's fingers went to her throat. "Oh, my God," she moaned. "Is he dead?"

Alison lowered her eyes. "Yes. He's dead."