Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona (12 page)

Christy walked through the kitchen and entered the front room. Just as she’d expected. The blacksmith stood over the pot of water on the stove, and the other man still hadn’t arrived.
Wait a minute. Pot of water?
How did that get here if he hadn’t come back?

She stepped closer to the front window and peered outside in time to see the man striding down the walk. She gaped at John Draper. “He brought the water?” It sounded stupid even to her ears, but thankfully the big man was too much of a gentleman to comment.

“Yes, ma’am. ’Bout fifteen minutes ago. Got the water to boilin’, and we jawed for a while, then he said he had to leave. Told me to say he hoped Joshua gets better.” He stepped away from the stove. “Gettin’ a mite warm. Fire will probably feel good later this evenin’ after the sun goes down, though.”

She nodded absently, only barely taking in his last words. He’d brought the water back and stayed. He could as easily have left town, or at the least left the bucket and disappeared to wherever he was staying. She lifted her chin and stared at John. “Did he tell you his name?”

John scratched his head and thought for a moment. “By crickety, I don’t think he did, other than Nevada. And I didn’t think to ask for more. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“He’s comin’ by my shop so we can talk about work.”

“Work?” She kept repeating everything the man said like a woman who’d lost her way. Well, maybe she had. “He’s going to work for you?” Something akin to excitement stirred in her heart.

“Said he would. Told me he knows how to shoe a horse, and I need somebody bad. Glad to have the extra pair of hands and a strong back, leastways until my leg heals.” He gestured at his shinbone. “Speakin’ of which, it’s gettin’ plumb sore. Think I’ll head home if you don’t need any more help.”

“Thank you for everything. Forgive my manners. Would you like something to eat before you go?”

“No thanks, Miss. You look plumb tuckered out. How’s young Grey? He gonna pull through?”

“Doc says it’s too soon to tell. If he does, it’s going to take steady nursing.”

“Ah, well, I expect you’re good at that.” He plucked his hat off the nearby table and slipped it onto his head. “I’ll pray for him and for your ma. Sounds like she’s havin’ a rough go of things.”

“That’s kind of you.” Christy walked him to the door and shut it carefully behind him.
Prayer.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. After all the church services she’d sat through in Last Chance, you’d think some of it might have rubbed off, but she’d never seen prayer do much good. Maybe her family roots ran too deep. Gambling, shooting, working in saloons, and all the rest that came along with her heritage. She’d hoped moving to Tombstone would give her a new start. A scan of the disheveled room made her groan. What a foolish thing to expect. Nothing had changed in her family, and she doubted it ever would.

Nevada grasped the fetlock joint on the mare’s front leg and lifted, but she didn’t budge. “Come on, girl.” He pinched the tendons above her hoof, leaned against her forearm, and lifted again. This time the horse’s foot came off the ground easily. He grabbed the long file and rasped the curve of the mare’s hoof wall, shaving off enough to get it level and ready for the shoe.

John Draper swung his hammer against the red-hot shoe, shaping the curve to the right fit. He held it up with his tongs and inspected it. “Good enough, I guess.”

Nevada tossed John a grin. “Nothing’s ever just good enough with you, John. After working here for a week I’ve figured that out. It’s perfect or not at all.”

“Customers deserve to get my best work.” The blacksmith dipped the shoe in a bucket of water and left it for a full minute before pulling it out and handing it to Nevada. “Should fit now.”

Nevada put four nails between his teeth and placed the shoe against the horse’s hoof, holding her leg between his tightly clenched knees. She gave a sharp jerk and he braced himself, holding firm until she quieted. “Whoa there, mare. Easy now.” The words came out between tightly clenched teeth. The last thing he needed was to suck a spike into his throat.

When the mare relaxed, he picked up his hammer with one hand and withdrew a nail with his other, keeping the mare’s leg steady with his clamped knees. A few taps and all four nails were in. Another couple of minutes and he’d have the sharp points clipped off, if she didn’t decide to jerk her foot away again and rake him with the sharp points. He winced, remembering his early days of shoeing and the deep gashes he’d received when an unruly stallion did just that.

Lowering the hoof to the ground, he gave the mare a break before he moved on to the next foot.

John hobbled over and looked down at the pair of shod front hooves. “Nice work. Sure glad you hit me up for a job last week. Not sure what I’d done if you hadn’t showed up.”

“I hate sitting idle. I’m not crazy about town life, but I’m thankful for the job.”

He knew the reason he hadn’t shaken the dust off his feet and hightailed it out of Tombstone. Christy Grey. As much as he’d like to disappear from sight and find a job on a ranch, he couldn’t forget the agony shining out of Christy’s green eyes when she’d first seen her brother lying near death. She’d not told his secret, and he was grateful. No way could he leave town without finding a way to help her.

“You hear anything more about Joshua Grey?”

“He pulled through. That’s all I know.”

“I’m glad. Maybe I’ll stop over and check on him. See if his ma needs anything.”

A glint sparked in John’s eye. “Good idea. They don’t have an able-bodied man in the house now, and his sister is new to town.”

Nevada ran his hand down the mare’s back leg and pinched the tendon above the fetlock joint. This time her foot came up without protest. “Good girl. You’re learning fast.”

John sank down onto a low stool with a grunt and extended his bum leg in front of him. “Gets better one day, and hurts the next. How about you come to church with me and the missus this Sunday?”

Nevada kept his back to John, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings. He had no desire to attend Sunday services now, or anytime in the future. God was not high on his priority list anymore.

His new boss didn’t seem to notice the lack of an answer. “Reverend Endicott Peabody’s quite the preacher, even if he only has a tent to preach in. Sure will be nice when they finish buildin’ the church he’s raisin’ money for.”

“I didn’t realize they were building one. Where at?”

“Over on the corner of Safford Street and Third.” John puffed out his chest and grinned. “It’s gonna have a bell tower with a cross on the top. St. Paul’s Episcopal is what she’ll be called.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“Peabody’s a blamed good man, if you ask me. Stands up for what he believes and ain’t afraid to say what he thinks.”

John’s words rankled Nevada. He’d stood up for what he believed once upon a time, then lost sight of it all. Now he didn’t know what was truth and what wasn’t, and no longer cared to find out.

“Haven’t heard a sermon yet that didn’t mean somethin’ to me and the missus,” John continued. “Yes, sir, he sure packs a wallop. If you can’t come this week, maybe you’ll find the time the following Sunday.” He pushed to his feet and walked to the forge, lifting a shoe from the pile and bringing it back to Nevada. “Check her out and let me know what she needs.”

Nevada placed the shoe against the hoof. “This one looks good the way it sits. Don’t think you’ll need to shape it.”

“Good.” John flexed his arms and grinned. “I think my arms are gettin’ plumb tired out with all this work I’m havin’ to do with you here.”

Nevada stifled a laugh. “Right. I’ve been pushing you hard, Big John.” He stuck four more nails between his lips and bent to his job.

“I was gettin’ downright lazy before you came along. Couldn’t do much shoein’ on my own account. Figured I’d go out of business with all my customers skedaddlin’ to my competition. ’Course, I coulda retired early.”

“Ha.” Nevada withdrew a nail and hammered it in. “You’ll retire when you’re six foot under. I can’t see you sitting on the front porch gabbing with the other old coots.” He gritted the words between clenched teeth.

John scratched his head and grinned. “Sounds mighty peaceful and appealin’ sometimes. But you’re right. Ain’t no life for the likes of me. I need to keep busy.” He shifted his leg and winced. “Sure hope you can stick around until this leg is strong enough for me to start shoein’ again.”

“I’ll be here unless something happens I’m not expecting.”

As soon as the words were out, Nevada regretted saying them. He could almost feel John’s curiosity, even with his back turned, but the big man didn’t reply. Nevada finished the hoof and set it down, then turned and faced the man who was quickly becoming a friend. Might as well come right out and say what was on his mind.

“I need to level with you first, John, and then you can decide if you care to have me stay.”

Christy opened the cupboards in the kitchen. She wanted to stomp her foot and shout at someone. But who? Her injured brother, hanging between life and death for the past week, who had gambled their money away? Or her seriously ill mother, who’d allowed him to do so? Regardless of who was at fault, the state of the pantry wouldn’t change without a source of income. Joshua seemed to be out of mortal danger now, and Ma’s coughing had eased some. Christy had known since her arrival she’d have to find a job if they were going to keep eating. Now she shut the cupboard door with more force than necessary and went in search of her mother.

Ivy sat in a rocker beside her son’s bed watching him sleep. The fever had broken, and Doctor Goodfellow seemed to think they’d avoided gangrene. Christy shuddered, knowing infection would mean certain death if it traveled through his chest. What might have happened if the blacksmith and the stranger hadn’t brought him home and summoned the doctor?

She’d hadn’t learned Nevada’s last name and hadn’t yet figured out what manner of man he might be. She’d been so convinced he’d helped rob the stage and would soon disappear. Then he arrived at her mother’s door carrying her brother and returned with water when she’d assumed he’d light out and wouldn’t look back. He realized she’d recognized him, that was certain, and he had no way of knowing she’d continue to keep her silence.

Something in his eyes when he’d gazed at her had sent a shiver of anticipation straight to her heart. No hint of accusation or censure shone there but rather warmth and almost a touch of humor. More than once she’d found herself hoping he’d return to check on Joshua but realized there was no real reason he should.

She took a step forward and touched her mother’s hair. “Ma?”

“Yes?” Ivy didn’t turn her gaze away from her son, and her listless voice didn’t evoke any hope in Christy’s heart.

“Will you come out to the front room and talk, so we won’t disturb Joshua?”

“I suppose.” She gripped the arms of the rocker and moved with the slowness of an old woman, instead of the forty-nine years she’d seen. With a sluggish, dragging gait she followed Christy out of the room and sank onto the sofa in the living room. “What you want, Daughter?”

Christy pursed her lips, wondering where to begin. Best use the example Ma had always set and get right to the heart of the matter. “We’re broke, and the food is almost gone.”

A weary expression crossed Ma’s face. “I know. But we been here before and survived. Somethin’ always seems to work out.”

“Not this time, Ma. Logan isn’t coming back, and Joshua won’t be making any more quick money at the poker table.” Her voice came out harsher than she’d planned.

Ma winced and a hard light entered her eyes. “What you want me to do about it? Go to work?”

Christy jerked like she’d been slapped. Why didn’t her mother ever choose to think the best of her, instead of the worst? All her life it had been this way. Molly and Joshua could do no wrong in her eyes, but Christy never seemed to measure up. Maybe that was one reason she’d run away and gotten her first job at a gambling hall. The manager had made her feel like somebody important—a desirable woman who mattered. Now she knew that was only an act and all he’d cared about was lining his own pockets. But at the time she’d believed it and basked in the feelings of acceptance and approval.

“Of course not. I know you’re not well. I thought I’d start looking for a job today, if you’re up to caring for Joshua. I’ll come back and check on you often, at least until I find something. And maybe I can work a half day to start with, until he doesn’t require as much care.”

Ma’s eyes seemed to brighten, and she leaned forward a little. “You still have your looks. It wouldn’t be hard for you to get on at the Golden Eagle or the Oriental. I hear tell they’re goin’ to open a fancy place soon at the other end of town called the Bird Cage Theater. Gonna have playactin’, singin’, and such like. Should bring in a pile of men wantin’ to wet their whistle and talk to a pretty girl. I’ll bet all of those places pay good money and they’re always lookin’ for help.”

“Ma!” A shaft of pain bit deep into Christy’s insides. “I’ll never work in one of those places again.”

“You ain’t suited for anything else, Daughter. What you think, you’re gonna get some highbrow job and be a fine lady?” Ma bit the words out and nearly spit them on the floor. “You’re a Grey, and nothin’ more. You was born poor, and you’ll die poor. Ain’t nobody in town who knows our family is gonna give you a job.”

Christy felt as though she needed to bolt outside to the privy and empty her stomach. She’d always known her mother didn’t think highly of her, but she’d had no idea to what degree. “I worked at a boardinghouse in Last Chance. I’ll check some of those and see if I can’t find something. I’m sure I’ll find work before the day is out.” She forced herself to paste on a smile and pushed to her feet. “Now do you think you’ll be all right here with Joshua while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be fine. I been takin’ care of myself and you kids all the times we didn’t have a man in the house and did just dandy.”

Christy turned away before her mother could see her expression. Those times had been few and far between, but she didn’t care to think of that. She’d decided long ago to either honor her mother or stay clear of her. Right now she didn’t have the option of staying clear, so honor won out. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Ivy waved her hand in the air. “Don’t matter. We’ll get along. And remember, if they won’t take you at those boardinghouses, you ask around at them fancy saloons. Shouldn’t be hard to get on.” She stood and walked out of the room to where Joshua lay, not looking back.

Christy plucked her hat off the peg behind the door and settled it on her head. Slow anger welled up inside, causing her hands to shake. She should have stayed in Last Chance, where people respected her. Over the past four years she’d earned a place for herself there, and most of the folks in town had even forgotten her background. Of course, there were still a handful of uppity women who put their nose in the air when she walked by, but the majority of the people were kind. Had it all been an act? Could her mother be right? The Malone name didn’t demand respect like some did, and apparently neither did Grey, but surely they didn’t deserve the disdain Ma painted them with. She wondered what her mother had been through since arriving in this town. Joshua probably hadn’t helped, what with stirring up trouble and getting into fights.