Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron (18 page)

"I suppose you're right." Adam sighed. "When
will I see you again?"

"I don't know, " Priscilla said. "There are
things I need to sort out. We have an abnormal physical attraction
for each other, which is beyond my understanding. I've never
attracted men. Then you came along and made me feel desirable.
Perhaps that's why I'm obsessed with wanting you in my bed. Maybe
it's simply because I may never have another chance." She let out a
weary sigh. "I just wish love would play a part," she said,
wistfully. "I don't feel love for you, Adam. I feel this
uncontainable passion when I'm with you, like a female cat in need
of a tom. I've seen cats in heat, howling incessantly, tails raised
in invitation. That's what it's like when I'm with you. I want to
raise my tail and have you take care of me. But I also want to love
you."

Adam took her face between his hands. "Maybe
that just takes time."

"That's the problem," Priscilla said. "The
more time that goes by, the more stories I hear about what the
cattlemen are doing to the homesteaders, and the more confused I am
about my feelings for you."

Adam kissed her then, not a deeply passionate
kiss, but a light, short peck. "I want to love you too," he said.
"Maybe I already do. I'm not sure. But while you're waiting for
your answers, would it be so wrong for you to lift your tail and
let me take care of your need? Maybe you'd get your answer then.
Maybe it's the only way for you to know if what I have to give you
as a man, is what you really want."

"I know exactly what you have to give me as a
man, Adam," she said, "I just felt it. And I assure you, it's
something I want very badly. But it's not the answer I am looking
for. That's what's confusing me. Women are not supposed to be
preoccupied with that part of a man and what it can do for them,
and that's precisely what's happening with me."

"Then answer me candidly." Adam rested his
hands on her shoulders and looked at her intensely. "Are you
preoccupied with that part of other men?"

"Of course not," Priscilla clipped. "The idea
of laying naked with another man and having him do the things you
described is repulsive to me. Even the thought of seeing another
man naked is abhorrent. But I can't stop thinking about the things
you described that you'd do for me, soaping me in the bath tub,
doing what you just did, and all the other things you said you'd
do, or envisioning the sight of you naked in my bed while I take my
pleasure in doing things I know would please you. I'm so restless
to do those things, I feel on the verge of insanity."

"Good God, woman. When you talk like that you
drive me crazy. We'll work this out. I don't know when or where,
but you and I are going to take care of this obsession we have for
each other. Very soon." He kissed her one more time and left.
Priscilla fanned her face. Adam was right. Life had been so less
complicated before she moved to Cheyenne.

***

Adam untied the mule tethered behind his
buckboard and led him to the hitching rail in front of Seth
Watkins' humble cabin. Looping the leathers from the mule's halter
over the rail, he stepped onto the porch and knocked. A black man
opened the door. Seeing Adam, his face hardened. "What you want?"
he asked in a gruff voice.

"I've come to bring you this animal."

Seth eyed the mule. "How much you askin' for
him?"

"Nothing. He's yours."

Seth eyed Adam, skeptically. "I know you," he
said, his voice accusatory. "You's the cattleman runnin' for mayor
of Cheyenne."

"Yes," Adam reluctantly admitted, though he
wasn't sure why it made him feel penitent. He wasn't responsible
for the man's mule being shot. But he wasn't so sure about some of
the other cattlemen. At the Cheyenne Club he'd heard some vicious
talk about what they'd like to do to the homesteaders, but he'd
figured it was talk. Now, he wasn't so sure. He too would like to
see every homesteader go back east and leave the grazing land free
from fences, but that wasn't going to happen. Times were changing,
and they'd have to adjust to them.

Seth Watkins folded his arms. "If you're
tryin' to buy our votes," he said, "you can take that mule an go.
Our votes aren't for sale."

Adam removed his hat and held it between his
hands. "I'm not after your votes, Mr. Watkins, I'm after justice. I
don't know who killed your mule, but this land is yours and you
have a right to farm it, just like I have a right to run my cattle
over government land."

Seth went to inspect the mule. He ran his
hand down the animal's leg and over his withers, then looked into
the mule's mouth. "He's a right fine animal," he said, stroking the
mule's large head. "Young, sound. He's got to be worth three
hundred or more."

"He is," Adam said. "He'll work for you for a
long time. If you get a good crop this year, you can pay me some if
you feel you need to. But I'd rather see you put the money into
fixing the roof on this place so your family will be warm and dry
come winter."

Seth looked up at his roof, and said, "We've
been needin' a new roof for a long time, but there's never enough
money."

A young black woman stepped to the front
door, a toddler on her hip, a boy about four clinging to her leg.
"What's goin' on Seth?" she asked. "And who's mule is that?" She
adjusted the toddler to accommodate her prominent belly, clearly
nearing her term.

"He's yours, Mrs. Watkins," Adam said.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Adam Whittington," he replied. "I have a
spread west of town."

"Cattle?" the woman clipped.

Adam nodded.

The woman looked at Seth in alarm. "I don't
like the looks of this," she said. "He's one of them. Why's he
bringin' us this mule?"

"It's okay, Tillie," Seth said. "He don't
mean no harm. We'll pay for the mule when the crop comes in."

"And if hail takes it like it did last year?
How you gonna pay for the mule then?"

"The mule is yours, Mrs. Watkins," Adam said.
"You and your husband don't have to pay for him unless you have
extra money."

Seth rubbed the mule between his large ears
and stroked his muzzle. "He come with a name?" he asked.

"Mule," Adam replied. "The man I got him from
said his name was Mule."

"Okay Mule," Seth said. "You and I are gonna
try to finish plantin' the beans and beets and hope the hail don't
crush the seedlings when they come up."

Adam looked toward a crisscross of fences and
the hogs milling inside the pens. "You have some nice looking sows
over there," he said. "And from the size of the apparatus on that
boar, they should have no trouble producing some fine shoats for
you. Maybe you should try building up your stock. There's always a
need for pork here, and it's bringing in a good price."

"I've thought about that," Seth said. "I
still have to plant crops to feed 'em though. But I'm much obliged
for Mule, and I intend to pay you back."

"Just take care of him. And I'll try to find
out who killed your mule. If I do, they'll be the ones paying me
back. You just take care of your family and be good to Mule." He
shoved on his hat and headed for the buckboard.

As he gathered the reins, Seth called out,
"Me and the Missus will be castin' our votes, Mr. Whittington, and
I think we'll be castin' them for you."

"I'd appreciate that," Adam said, then
clucked his tongue and left.

As he drove, he felt strangely contented,
something that hadn't happened since Priscilla arrived to turn his
life upside down. Nor could he suppress the smile of satisfaction
that came from helping Seth Watkins and his family. But he'd resist
the urge to send a couple of his men out to repair their roof. Seth
was a proud man, and he wouldn't appreciate any more handouts. But
maybe he'd talk to Watkins about raising hogs on shares. Watkins
would do the work, but he'd put up the capital for fencing, feed
and additional sows. From the size of the testicles of that big
boar, he'd have no trouble servicing many more sows.

But for the moment, all Adam wanted was to go
to Priscilla and share his pleasure over what he'd done for Seth
Watkins, not because he wanted to use that to get Priscilla into
bed, but because he wanted to see her beautiful smile, and look
into her golden-lashed hazel eyes, and see her freckled face flush
with pleasure. Then, he'd take her to bed.

He let out a soft chuckle. Unlike the boar,
he only had one sow to service, but servicing Priscilla could be a
full-time job. He liked that idea. He just hoped he had the male
apparatus to keep up with her. She was one passionate woman. But he
no longer worried about his virility as he had earlier, because the
more demanding and outspoken Priscilla became about her desire for
him, the quicker that part of him reacted, until he was beginning
to wonder if his ongoing state could have long-term dire
consequences.

If he were married though, he reasoned, he'd
get relief at least nightly. Or several times a night, he amended,
when he realized the only woman he was interested in marrying was
Priscilla. And he had not yet introduced her to the marital act.
But when he did, he suspected she'd put a whole different
connotation to the term. The word 'act' seemed far too inactive.
Possibly Marital Acrobatics, or Marital Gymnastics, or Marital
Tussling. He let out a little chuckle. Marriage to Priscilla would
never be lackluster.

On the other hand,
not
being married
to her was torture.

It had been over a week since she bared her
breasts for his pleasure, and hers, and his
condition
was
worsening. Surely a man could suffer permanent damage when the
state was ongoing. But tonight, he
would
get relief, and it
would come while bringing sexual gratification to a feisty,
provocative, overtly sensual, red-headed vixen who was driving him
to certain madness. Anxious to get to her and end this misery, he
clucked his tongue and jiggled the reins, sending the horse into a
steady trot.

CHAPTER EIGHT

'Her mind has no womanly weakness. Her

perseverance is equal to that of a
man...'

—
Queen Elizabeth's tutor,
Roger Ascham

So many women arrived for
the Town
Tattler
meeting the following week that Priscilla knew she'd
have to find another place for future gatherings. She also realized
she might have to go to a large quarto size newspaper instead of a
singlesheet. The suffrage articles had generated so much interest
they were running longer than she'd expected, the guest opinion
pieces were stacking up, all the regular columns were filled, and
there was no end to the questions for the
Miss Manners
and
Miss Valentine
columns. She was also inundated with campaign
promotionals from both sides. After running the spot for Adam,
along with the engraving, other candidates had taken out
advertising space for their own promotionals. It was a very
demanding time for all of them, and because she was so occupied
overseeing the typesetting, Priscilla put Libby in charge of
answering the questions for
Miss Valentine
, and Trudy, with
the enthusiastic help of Lady Whittington, was answering the
questions for
Miss Manners
.

Priscilla was surprised at how involved Lady
Whittington had become, not only in helping Trudy with
Miss
Manners
, but because the steady stream of events flowing into
the society column had come from her circle of friends. The
Tattle Tale
column was also buzzing, as those same women
threw barbs and circulated rumors with typical British civility.
But none of Lady Whittington's friends attended the meetings, nor
did they send in opinion pieces on women's issues, which was for
the best, Priscilla decided. The homesteader's wives were occupying
those columns, and they would consider it an affront if the
cattlemen's wives tried to insert their ideas and opinions. So
Priscilla prided herself in being able to successfully juggle both
sides.

After Priscilla had settled the women down
for the meeting, Trudy gave her presentation on the Rational Dress
Society, which contended that fashion’s roots were ornamental
rather than practical. Trudy spoke with a natural ability that
Priscilla greatly admired, having never had the gift herself,
always wanting to be the mouse in the corner instead of the one on
the stump. And Trudy had clearly captured the women's attention as
she talked about women's rights to protest the introduction of any
fashion that deforms the figure or impedes the movements of the
body, such as tightly-fitting corsets, and high-heeled shoes, and
heavily-weighted skirts like crinolines, fashions that rendered
healthy exercise almost impossible.

Trudy ended her presentation by encouraging
women to seek fashions that embrace health, comfort and beauty,
after which, the women got into a lively discussion about whether
to wear bloomers or divided skirts, which were being promoted by
the society. Two of the women owned bicycles, and several were
talking about taking up the pastime. But after the subject of dress
reform was exhausted, the issue of the cattlemen driving out the
homesteaders came up again. While new incidents were being
recounted, Priscilla's attention was divided between what the women
were saying, and the fact that Trudy seemed to have disappeared,
which surprised her. Trudy had said that she wanted to hand out new
flyers she'd made to help her father. Certain that Trudy was not in
the crowd, Priscilla went upstairs and checked Trudy's room, but
she wasn't there, which baffled and concerned her. But as she was
descending the stairs, Priscilla heard Adam's name, which
distracted her from thoughts of Trudy for the moment.

The incident the woman was recounting
happened two nights before, at the woman's neighbor's place, when
his wire fence had been torn down and dragged off. "Lord
Whittington's behind it alright," the woman said, "maybe not doing
the dirty work himself, but he's sending his cowboys out to do it.
My neighbor, Jess, said he saw the younger of the two men with Lord
Whittington when they were in town a few weeks back. Jess shot at
the young man to scare him off and clipped him in the arm, so we'll
be watching for him around town. But he probably won't show up
until his arm's healed."