Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona (17 page)

Holliday looked across the room to where she indicated and stared at Nevada for several long seconds without speaking. His hand slowly dropped to his waist and settled an inch away from his gun.

Prickles ran up Christy’s spine and she stood still, almost not daring to move. Finally, she stepped closer to Doc. “He’s all right, I promise.”

The man relaxed and his arms dropped to his sides. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Christy felt the gunman’s presence as she wove between the tables toward Nevada. She took a quick look over her shoulder and saw Doc positioned a couple of yards back, his hands folded across his belt. Stopping in front of Nevada, she looked up into his eyes, her heart racing. The man had strength in his face and in the set of his shoulders. Not only physical strength, but something deeper—she was drawn in spite of herself.

Nevada glanced around before returning his attention to her. “I was hoping you’d find time to let me speak to you, Miss Grey.”

“In here, it’s Christy. Is something wrong at home? Did you bring word from my mother or brother?”

He appeared startled. “No. Did you expect me to?”

“I thought…” Christy swallowed and tried to gather her wits as she continued to gaze into those dark depths. “Since you were bringing us water, I thought maybe my mother had sent a message.”

“I didn’t see her. I rarely do.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I came to tell you I found you another job, if you want it.”

She stiffened and resisted the urge to look behind her. The noise level was too high for Doc to hear their conversation, but she kept her voice low in case. “I have a job.”

“I know, but I figured, well…maybe you might be looking for something else.”

“Like what?” Hope that he that he cared surged inside, but she pushed it down. “I’ve been everywhere in this town and couldn’t find work.” She waved her hand at the noisy room. “I don’t entertain men, but what I do pays well enough. Apparently I’m not suited for much else.”

She hated the sarcasm that tinged her voice. At least she hadn’t been forced into what Sara and some of the other girls were expected to do. Not yet, anyway.

Nevada narrowed his eyes. “I don’t agree. You’re an intelligent woman.”

Christy emitted a grim laugh. “Thanks, but business owners care about reputation over intelligence.” She raised her chin and met his gaze squarely. “Besides, shouldn’t you be offering this job to Sara?”

“Sara?” He frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I saw you escort her to her room the first night I was here.” Christy watched his face, certain she’d see guilt or shame flash across it.

He held her gaze without wavering. “Yes, I did. But nothing happened.”

She sniffed. “Of course it didn’t.” She gave a wry smile. “Most men would brag about their conquest, but not you. Always the gentleman, as well as the liar. First you’re not an outlaw, even though you’re present at a stagecoach holdup, and now you simply escorted a girl to her room after outbidding another man for her favors. But nothing happened.” She smirked. “Right.”

“Ask her.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“What?” A slight shock coursed through her at the blunt words. Where was the cocky attitude she’d expected, if not embarrassment or confusion?

“Ask Sara. She’ll tell you I didn’t touch her.”

“Then why…?”

“To keep that low-down scum from bothering her. She was ill and in obvious distress.”

“So you came to her rescue like some gallant knight?” Christy struggled to keep her voice from shaking. Everything in her wanted to believe him, but she’d been fooled before. Five years ago a handsome face and smooth manner had nearly destroyed her. Not this time. She clasped her hands so tightly her nails dug into her skin.

He shrugged. “Something like that.” And then he grinned. “Like I said, ask Sara. For now, I want you to know there’s a job waiting for you at the boardinghouse where I’m staying if you want out of this place.”

Her heart did a somersault—his cocky grin and lifted brow gave him a rakish air. He’d be hard for any woman to resist, no matter how hardened she’d become. She gave a slight shake of her head. “I doubt they’d employ me.”

“This place would. It’s called the Russ House. It takes boarders and also has an excellent restaurant. ”

“I stopped and spoke to the cook. He said they weren’t hiring.”

“He’s not the owner. Nellie Cashman is, and she told me she could use more help.”

Christy closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. “She wouldn’t hire me.”

“Yes, she would.”

“If Miss Cashman knew who my stepfather was, or where I’m working now, she wouldn’t.”

Nevada’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “It won’t matter to her. This woman is different. She helps people in need all the time, even the women in the red-light district. Besides, anyone can tell you’re a lady, no matter where you work.”

Joy bubbled in Christy’s spirit, and she wanted to laugh out loud. Right now she didn’t know whether she wanted to hug the tall man standing so straight and proud in front of her, or shake him. Red-light district, indeed. Then she remembered his words. She might have a job and could leave here forever—start fresh in a reputable business.

Then a flash of gold caught her attention. Sara walked across the room, a tray of drinks balanced on her hand. Christy’s heart sank. “Please thank Miss Cashman for the offer.”

Nevada followed her gaze. “It’s Sara, isn’t it?”

Her throat pinched closed, and tears welled up. “I’m not sure I can leave her here alone.” The words came out in a whisper. “She’s so young. I don’t know her story but—”

“Christy.” A firm voice spoke behind her and she whirled around. Gordon Townsley stood with his feet planted wide and fists resting on his hips. “You are neglecting your duties. I don’t pay you to stand around fraternizing with the customers.” He jutted his chin toward Nevada. “Especially when they’re not paying ones.”

It was all Christy could do not to quit on the spot, now she knew another job waited outside these four walls. She bit her lip and glanced at Sara as she walked by again. “I apologize, Gordon. I’ll be right there.” She turned her back on the manager and smiled at Nevada. “Thank you for bringing me word.”

Townsley stepped to her side and held out his arm. “Allow me to escort you back to your table, Miss Grey.” His stiff voice left little doubt as to the state of his mind.

She touched her fingers to the fabric but refused to hold on to his arm. This man didn’t own her, and she wouldn’t allow him to think he did. All she wanted right now was to get out of this dress and into her own clothing. March out this door and not look back.

But if she left, Townsley would make sure she never got close to Sara again. No, she’d bide her time a little longer and pray somehow her luck would turn.

Nevada watched Christy walk beside Townsley to the roulette wheel, wishing there was more he could do for Christy and Sara. Two lovely women, both trapped in a situation not of their liking, and more than likely, not of their choosing. He scanned the room, wondering what to do now. Head back to the Russ House and see if Nellie needed anything done? Or hang around here in case he might be of use to Christy or Sara?

A movement across the gambling floor caught his attention and he stared, not certain he believed what he saw. A big-boned man with a scar on his cheek pulled out a chair and sat at a table with another man already seated—two people he had reason to remember. He tugged his hat down over his eyes and sauntered closer, making sure to stay out of their line of sight. Curiosity nudged him on and he settled into a chair sitting back to back with Jake, the leader of the gang who’d robbed the stage.

At first the scraping of chairs, clink of coins, and low voices of gamblers playing poker and faro at nearby tables drowned out any hope of hearing the conversation behind him. He’d noted the intensity of the two men as he’d approached the table and hoped their focus would stay on whatever drew them here. After several minutes, Nevada tipped back his chair and managed to block out the noise surrounding him. He narrowed his concentration on the outlaw now less than a foot away.

A fist slammed down on the adjoining table, and a voice rose in irritation. “I don’t care what you think, Jake, I need more money. This town’s eatin’ up every dime I got from the last job.”

“Quiet.” Jake hissed the words. “I’ve got somethin’ in mind, but you got to keep shut about what I tell you. I’ll need another man in on the job.”

“Good.” The first outlaw grunted his satisfaction. “I’ll find somebody. When you gonna pull this off?”

“The shipment comes through in about ten days or so. Tell your friend to get in touch with me here, or over at the Golden Eagle.”

“So what are we hittin’? What’s my cut?”

Nevada strained to hear the answer, his pulse racing. If he could stop what appeared to be yet another holdup, he might be able to walk around town without fear of arrest. If either of these two were picked up for the stage robbery without his intervention, they might decide to implicate him in the deal.

Sara appeared next to his chair, carrying a tray laden with drinks. “Hi there, Nevada.” A shy smile lit her pretty face. She leaned over and lowered her voice. “I know you don’t drink this stuff, but I thought you might want to have a glass in front of you, just the same. The boss don’t like it when men sit around takin’ up table space without buyin’ anything.”

He tipped his chair forward and stifled a groan. Not the best timing. “Sure. Give me one of whatever you’ve got there.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin, tossing it onto her tray. “Thanks for watching out for me, Sara.”

“Anytime, Cowboy.” She set the glass of amber liquid in front of him and moved away.

The scrape of chairs at the adjoining table caused him to moan. He’d missed the chance to hear their plans. If he’d understood correctly, Jake hung out here and at the Golden Eagle, and wanted to meet the new member of the group. Looked like he’d have to frequent this saloon for the next few days and hope he could figure out what they were up to.

Christy had worked a longer shift than usual, hoping she’d find a moment with Sara. Finally it came. Most of the customers had cleared out, and the bartender bent over a table on the far side of the room, scrubbing it down. Doc Holliday, Frank Leslie, and Gordon Townsley were nowhere in sight when Sara started across the room and headed for the staircase.

The girl walked like a woman three times her age, her slow gait and slumped body indicating her fatigue. She didn’t look back at the room but gripped the banister and hauled herself up the first step.

Christy moved swiftly to cover the distance and walked up beside her, touching Sara’s hand.

The young woman gave a sharp start and recoiled. She turned frightened eyes on Christy, then released a sigh. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Christy drew back a bit. “I wanted to tell you something, if you have a minute?”

“I’m awful tired.” The dark circles under her eyes gave truth to her words.

“I won’t keep you long.”

“All right.” Sara waved at a table below the staircase. “Did you want to sit?” Exhaustion tugged at her features.

“No. I’ll walk you up, if that’s okay?”

Sara hunched a shoulder. “Sure.”

They traversed the stairs in silence and continued down the hall till Sara stopped outside a door. She turned weary eyes on Christy. “I need to ask you somethin’ important.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“Your brother, Joshua.” Sara clasped her hands in front of her waist and twisted her fingers together. “Is he gonna be all right?”

“You know Joshua?” New interest sharpened Christy’s gaze.

“Yes. He and I…that is…” A rosy blush colored her cheeks. “He used to come in and see me. He was the first man Townsley sent up for quite a while and…” She sighed and dropped her eyes.

Christy touched Sara’s hand. “You care for my brother?”

The girl nodded without looking up.

“Does he feel the same?”

Sara risked a glance, then shrugged. “I thought so at the time, but I don’t know for sure. Will he live, do you think?”