Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Catherine (Book 7)

by Webb, Peggy

  She didn’t ask what, but sat on Elmer’s back as regal as a queen. Tyler didn’t like having to look up to see her. He was a tall man, and he had always been accustomed to having women look up to him.

  He added smart to Catherine’s list of assets. Smart and cagey. He was more and more impressed with her.

  “I can offer good conversation,” he said, smiling.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Tyler West.”

  She didn’t look impressed. He couldn’t even tell if she knew who he was or not. That stung. Even the pimply faced teenager on the midway had known he was a novelist. Call it a bit of smugness, but nobody turned down the chance to go out with a person of his notoriety and fame.

  He studied Catherine. Her eyes were a shade darker than when he’d first seen her, and they were sparkling with a secret humor. He’d be willing to bet she knew of him, but wasn’t saying so. It was another of her tricky ways to put him off balance. And she was doing a good job of it. Right now he felt like some gawky twenty-year-old instead of a sophisticated devil-may-care man of the world.

  “The Great,” he added.

  That brought a smile to her face. In fact, it even brought her down off the elephant, laughing. When she was standing once more in the sawdust among her huge pets, she faced him with hands on her hips.

  “I’ll give you this much, Tyler West. You do entertain me.”

  “I can do even better...tonight over a good prime rib and a bottle of wine.”

  “Sorry.”

  Tyler felt hampered by the rope that separated them. If he could have stood close to her, close enough to look deeply into her eyes and to let her feel his body heat, he knew he could have won her over. But the elephants were in the way. He was determined, but he wasn’t foolish. An angry elephant was a killing machine.

  “I don’t give up easily, Catherine.”

  “I don’t give in easily, Tyler.”

  “The next time we meet, you won’t have elephants to hide behind.”

  “I’m never without my elephants.”

  “Sometime, somewhere, I’m going to find you without your elephants, Catherine. And then you’ll be mine.”

  He left before she could reply. Tyler was accustomed to having the last word. He guessed it had something to do with his profession. Novelists always had the last word, and good ones saw to it that the last words carried the maximum impact.

  He jammed his fists into his pockets and started whistling. He felt good—stimulated, challenged. When he reached the tattooed bodyguard, he picked up the three teddy bears. He hadn’t wanted to go courting with three teddy bears in his hands, but he did fancy using them as gifts. Women liked sentimental things, and he figured that Catherine would be no different. He was willing to do almost anything to win her undying affection for the next day or so. Heck, she looked woman enough to interest him for the next week or so... provided she stayed in town that long.

  You never could tell about circus people. They were always on the go.

  When he reached his car, he flung the bears into the back seat and drove home. Home was a sprawling farm on the far north side of Ocean Springs. He smiled when he reached his land. Acres of green pasture guarded by white rail fence held grazing cattle and purebred horses, some of them racing stock. The South had always held a certain romantic attraction for him, and now he was a part of the Southern mystique. He had gone from Boston novelist, who didn’t know which end of a mule went first, to working fanner. He hadn’t given up writing, not by a long shot. But he had given up the stress-producing life he’d had in the big city.

  The most stressful things he did now were to drive one of his three sports cars too fast, sit in his box seat at the track and root for one of his horses—and chase women. Of the three, he loved chasing women best.

  Catherine was going to give him a heck of a chase. He could hardly wait.

  o0o

  Catherine tried not to give Tyler West a second thought after he left. She slipped into her trailer and changed into blue jeans, then came back outside to give her elephants a bath.

  All three of them loved bath time, and Catherine tried to absorb herself in their antics. But from time to time thoughts of Tyler West came to mind. She had flashbacks of seeing him for the first time, with the sun slanting on his rugged face and shining in his eyes. He had the most remarkable eyes of any man she had ever seen. They looked like sunbursts.

  And his hair. It was a peculiar mahogany shade that made her think of the fine antique furniture in Billy Joe Wainwright’s house. Everything connected with the Wainwrights had been tasteful and elegant and fine, except Billy Joe himself.

  Billy Joe Wainwright had been spoiled, self-indulgent and handsome—and as appealing as a crunchy red apple right off the tree. It was only after she’d become briefly engaged to him that she had learned the truth: he was rotten to the core. She wanted to stay as far away from him as she could get.

  When she had signed on with the circus, her mother had declared that Catherine would be the death of her, which was her way of saying that Catherine had disgraced them all with her failed society engagement and her penchant for taking up with trash.

  Just last week Margaret DeChello had sent a text: “When are you going to come to your senses and come home?”

  “I’m in my senses, Mother,” Cat had replied, only to receive this disturbing text: “Billy Joe called to ask about you.”

  Margaret had never understood the broken engagement, and still held out hope Cat would go back to Billy Joe.

  She reminded herself that she was safe now, protected by several tons of elephant and the loyalty of the Dixie Virgins and a tightly knit group of people who called a striped Big Top home. Cat just hoped she could count on her mother to keep her contact information private.

  She gazed across the circus grounds and inhaled the familiar scents of sawdust and greasepaint and animals. Angel squirted her with the water hose to let her know that she wasn’t paying attention to the bath. She quickly pushed Billy Joe, and every other man who had crossed her path since him, to the back of her mind.

  “You little trickster. If you’re going to do that, I’m going to be in charge of the hose.” Cat laughed as she took the hose back from Angel.

  Tyler West’s laughter suddenly echoed in her mind, wonderful, rich and full-bodied. Cat held the hose with the water shooting straight up as she remembered it.

  Angel gave her a playful poke with her trunk. “Sorry, Angel.” She turned her attention back to the bath. “Left foot, up.” Angel lifted her left foot so Cat could wash the pad and make certain the baby elephant hadn’t picked up any stones on her walk to the Big Top.

  Cat finished without further interruption from her runaway thoughts. Angel, Elvira and Elmer all purred and grumbled their satisfaction. Very few people had ever heard elephants purr. It pleased Catherine that she had earned their trust enough to be rewarded with the sounds of their contentment. Smiling, she gave each of them affectionate pats on the trunk.

  Her elephants were all she needed. She didn’t need Billy Joe Wainwright with his blue-blooded background and his red-blooded brawling. She didn’t need Tyler West with his golden eyes and his arrogant assumption that she would be his. She had made a life for herself in the safe cocoon of the circus world, and that was where she intended to stay. At least until she could save enough money to start her own clinic.

  o0o

  Tyler couldn’t get Catherine off his mind.

  That evening, after his rebuff at the circus, he sat in front of his blank computer screen, surrounded by empty bags of chips and crushed candy-bar wrappers and a teapot half-full of cold tea, and tried to think of a damned good plot for his next novel. But all he could think about was Catherine sitting on top of that bull elephant. Heck, he even envied the bull elephant.

  Tired of the electronic humming, he shut the computer off, then looked at the mess he’d made. He was losing his discipline. Common sense told him that he�
��d get fat or sick or maybe both if he didn’t eat proper meals.

  It was all Catherine’s fault. He had planned to have prime rib for dinner, but she had turned him down.

  What was she doing right now? She had to eat, didn’t she? Most folks took a meal about this time of day. Now would be the perfect time to see her. Surely she didn’t take her elephants to the dinner table.

  o0o

  He had been right about circus mealtime. When he arrived at the compound, the circus personnel were gathered in the mess tent, having a meal of black-eyed peas, ham hock, mustard greens and corn bread. You could tell they were in the Deep South.

  Tyler had gained entry to the compound this time by telling mostly the truth; that he was a novelist, doing research for a book. The latter part wasn’t true, of course, unless a book just naturally came out of his circus experiences someday, which was always a strong possibility. The bodyguard with the tattoo, Bret Leathers, had been glad to see him and had led him directly to the mess tent.

  “Mind if I join you?” Tyler asked.

  “Shoot, it’d be a honor and a priv’ledge.” Bret hollered to the cook, “Gert, get this man a plate. And make it plenty. He’s a famous writer.”

  Tyler sat at a table full of roustabouts, eating his black- eyed peas, eyes searching the tent for Catherine. By the time he got to his mustard greens he decided she wasn’t coming to dinner.

  He turned to Bret. “Where’s Catherine?”

  “Probably eatin’ with them elephants of hers.”

  Tyler grinned. He should have known it. He had already seen that stubborn streak. It would be just like her to bed down in the sawdust tonight, just so he couldn’t catch her without her seven-ton bodyguard.

  “Of course,” Bret added, “she could be over in the makeup tent. I heard her say somethin’ about dressin’ for the show early tonight.”

  “I think I’ll look around and see if I can find her.”

  “Help yourself. Once you eat with circus folks, you’re just like one of us.”

  Tyler shook Bret’s hand, then passed by the kitchen to thank Gert for dinner.

  “It’s the best meal I’ve had in a while, Gert. Real country cooking.”

  “Come by anytime. There’s always plenty for one more.”

  Tyler left the mess tent and stepped out into a sweet gentle night. Cicadas were singing summer melodies, and fireflies were dancing a glowing ballet. Six years ago he might have hurried through the night, intent on his errand. Since coming South he had learned to go slowly and appreciate nature. He stood for a moment, letting the sounds of summer soak into his soul.

  The first pale sliver of a moon was showing its face by the time he reached Catherine’s trailer. The elephants were chained inside their compound, but she was nowhere in sight.

  “Catherine.” No one answered. He called her name once more, waiting, then decided to move on to the makeup tent.

  Eventually he came upon a gaily striped, brightly lit tent and judged it to be the right one. The inside of the tent confirmed his guess; it was strewn with spangled costumes, outrageous wigs, greasepaint and ballet shoes.

  Tyler stood just inside the tent flap, getting his bearings. There was a row of tables with makeup mirrors on his right, but nobody was there. A large folding screen, decorated with red dragons, snow-covered mountains and cherry blossom trees stood directly in front of him, about five feet away.

  He heard a stirring sound, then a female voice—Catherine’s voice.

  “Mickey, is that you?”

  Instead of answering, Tyler approached the screen.

  “Will you be a sweetheart and hand me that red costume? In my haste to get dressed and take Angel for her exercise, I forgot to bring it back here.”

  Tyler searched through the racks until he found a bit of satin and sequins that looked as if it might cover Catherine’s strategic parts. He held it up for inspection. It had a tiny waist and a generous cut at the top, what little there was of it. He smiled. All sorts of possibilities came to his mind. This evening might turn out better than if he had carried her to dinner.

  He passed her the costume over the top of the screen. “Take your time, Catherine. You’re worth waiting for.”

  There was a deadly silence from behind the screen. He waited, trying to anticipate her reaction. He thought she might yell at him or pop her head around the corner to see if he was actually there.

  “You don’t give up, do you, Tyler West?” She sounded as cool as she had when she was sitting on top of that elephant.

  “No. And this time you don’t have your elephants to protect you.”

  “I don’t need my elephants to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  “All one hundred pounds of you.”

  “A hundred and ten, and all of it lethal.”

  Tyler chuckled. “No doubt.”

  He heard small enticing sounds—the whisper of satin against flesh, the metallic click of a zipper, the tiny pop of elastic settling into place.

  “Need any help back there?”

  “I never need help dressing.”

  “Then you’ve missed a lot of fun. We’ll have to remedy that.”

  “Let me save you some time, Tyler West. As much as your arrogance amuses me, I will not be bullied or cajoled or worn down. Do I make myself clear?”

  She appeared around the corner of the screen, and Tyler lost his voice. He almost lost his senses. Catherine up close in her red spangled costume was a sight to see. She brought out every animal instinct he possessed, and then some. No woman he had ever seen—certainly not in Ocean Springs—could compare with her.

  “I never did ask you...” His voice sounded strained, even to himself. “Who is Mickey? Your lover?”

  “No. My clown.”

  “You have elephants. You have your own private clown.” He reached out and caught a strand of her dark hair between his fingers. It felt silky and alive. She stood very still.

  “What else do you have that I should know about, Catherine?”

  She didn’t answer him. Instead she looked at him with eyes that reminded him of a small animal caught in a trap. His imagination was working overtime, of course. Catherine was the boldest woman he knew. The idea of her in a trap was absurd.

  He let her hair drift through his fingers, then cupped one hand to her cheek. She drew back as if she had been slapped.

  “I have to exercise Angel,” she said, wheeling around and heading for the tent flap.

  He watched her leave. The view from the back was as good as the view from the front.

  The only angel he wanted to exercise was Catherine DeChello.

  Chapter Two

  Cat paused for breath outside the makeup tent and put her hands on her flushed cheeks. She hated the way she was feeling. While she’d been in the school of veterinary medicine, she’d worked very hard to put Billy Joe behind her. She lifted her chin and clenched her hands into fists.

  “Everything is all right,” she whispered to herself. “Nothing bad can happen in the circus compound.”

  After that small pep talk she went back to her trailer and unchained Angel. She didn’t like having to keep her elephants chained, but when the circus was on the road there was no alternative. It was a safety precaution.

  The baby elephant nudged Cat affectionately with her trunk. Angel was as glad as her trainer to have the leg chain removed.

  “Angel. Come.”

  Cat strolled into the open pasture that bordered her trailer, followed by her cumbersome baby. Pale stars were just beginning to show in the sky and a light breeze had sprung up. The beauty of the evening had a calming effect on her. She could handle Tyler West. She had no doubt about it.

  She began to make small talk with her elephant, as much for herself as for Angel. All her elephants loved the sound of their trainer’s voice, and Cat liked the idea of confiding secrets to someone besides the Dixie Virgins who would never betray her trust.

  “You know what I thought about wh
en Tyler touched me?” Angel didn’t answer, of course, but trotted along, swinging her trunk, enjoying her exercise. “I remembered that time Billy Joe and I were at the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. ‘That’s a beautiful costume you’re wearing, baby.’ He always called me baby. I don’t know why. Then he reached out and touched my cheek. I used to love that when we were dating. Back then he had the most gentle hands.”

  Catherine came to the pasture fence and made a left turn. Angel obediently followed her, and Catherine kept up her one-sided conversation.

  “ ‘Are you wearing it for me, baby?’ I laughed at him. I thought he was just kidding. ‘Are you wearing it for me, or is there somebody else? Answer me!’ That was the first time I ever knew what Billy Joe was really like.”

  Cat reached up to rub the chill bumps that popped out on her arms. “No sense resurrecting ghosts,” she said.

  They were nearing the bales of hay stacked in a huge pile behind Cat’s trailer. Angel came to an abrupt halt, lifted her trunk and gave a baby-elephant version of a trumpet.

  Cat was immediately alert. “Angel, stay!” she commanded, putting her hand on the elephant’s trunk to emphasize her words.

  Cat knew that elephants trumpet for two reasons: excitement or fear. She quickly scanned the area. Everything was as it should be: the trailer up ahead, the empty pasture, the stacks of hay. There was no cause for excitement.

  She squinted into the darkness. A shadow flitted briefly across the stacks of hay. Catherine froze. Billy Joe. She pressed one hand to her mouth, afraid to look and yet more afraid to turn away.

  “Who’s there?” she called, keeping her voice calm in order not to upset Angel.

  There was no answer. She peered into the darkness once more, looking for shadows. There were none.

  “Just my foolish imagination,” she said. She rubbed her elephant’s trunk. “No one is there, Angel. I guess you’re excited about show time. Is that it?” She glanced once more toward the hay, half expecting to see her ex-fiancé pop into view.

  “Angel, come,” she said, then hurried toward her trailer. As she rounded the corner a figure materialized out of the dark. For a moment she panicked, and then she saw it was only Tyler.