Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona (23 page)

A man’s voice she didn’t recognize grunted. “She’s still sleepin’.”

“Sure is a purty one. Wish the boss would let us have a few minutes with her.”

“He’d kill you for even sayin’ that, so you’d best shut yer trap.”

A low growl was the only response and the tent flap came down with a thump. “I’m gonna get a drink. It’s hot out here, and I’m sick of standin’ guard over a woman who ain’t wakin’ up anyway.”

“Think it’s safe to leave?”

The disgruntled second man replied, “Don’t know why not. One of the saloons what burned is servin’ beer from a keg down the block a mite. We can walk down, grab a mug, and come right back.”

“All right. I guess Townsley won’t be back for another hour anyway. Can’t hurt to wet our whistles just this once.”

Sara opened her eyes and stared at the two dim figures outside the tent. Their shadows grew indistinct, and their voices disappeared in the distance. When she swung her feet to the ground again and stood, a wave of dizziness nearly knocked her back to the bed. She bent over at the waist and gulped in deep draughts of air. A few moments later she straightened, new resolve stiffening her spine. From what they’d said she might only have minutes to get out of this horrible prison.

She slipped to the tent flap and peered outside. No sign of the guards. In fact, the street was surprisingly empty. It only took a moment to push her way through and another to get her bearings. She was on the backside of Toughnut Street, not far from the Good Enough Mine. Where had Christy said Nevada was living? A boardinghouse. The Russ House, that was it. She headed away from the tent as fast as her wobbly legs would manage. If only she could get out of sight before those men returned.

Christy collapsed on the edge of the bed at the Russ House, feeling like a lantern whose oil had run low. Somehow she’d managed to get rid of the odious Jake and convince her mother they had no choice but to move. John Draper had helped get Joshua to his new room, and Ma slept in the bed adjoining her own. All she wanted now was to find Sara and get a sound night’s sleep. Somehow she doubted either would happen.

It wasn’t often her spirits sank so low that she teetered on the edge of defeat. Somehow she must rise above the hovering dark cloud and find her way back to the sunshine.
God, please take care of Sara and Nevada.
Gratitude washed over her at God’s wonderful provision over the past few days. Somehow she knew she could trust Him with her future, even when she couldn’t see it clearly yet.

She closed her eyes, trying to envision what a happy future might look like. Nevada’s image sprang to her mind, and her eyes flew open in surprise. From the little information Jake had shared she believed Nevada had indeed shot Logan Malone. After all, hadn’t his telegram said a man named King did it? How could her heart be drawn to a killer—especially one who’d murdered her stepfather?

She wanted to end this once and for all. Nevada had been resting for the three hours it had taken to move her family so might be awake and able to talk now. The need for answers pressed her forward as she tiptoed down the hall toward his room. The door wasn’t latched so she knocked softly, unsure whether he might have carried through on his threat to get out of bed.

“Yes. It’s open.” His voice seemed stronger than when she’d visited him earlier.

“Is it all right if I come in?” Christy waited outside the door, sudden apprehension gripping her stomach. What would she do—walk in and demand to know if he killed Logan Malone? Maybe she was stupid to have come. She backed away from the door, turned and picked up the hem of her skirt. Let him think what he may, she didn’t care to approach him after all.

The door opened behind her and Nevada’s voice sounded close to her ear. “Christy? Did you want to see me?”

She jumped and whirled, her hand over her heart. Glaring at him, she noted he was fully dressed except for his boots. Her gaze traveled to his belt, and she gave a slight start. The man put on his gun before his boots? Well, maybe it wasn’t foolish, if Jake were any indication of the enemies he’d made over the years.

“Why are you out of bed?” she demanded.

“Because I can’t lie there and pretend I’m not needed.” He leaned one hand against the doorjamb, his handsome face marred with concern.

She met his eyes fully for the first time since before the accident. Something in their depths gave her pause.

The moment moved into long seconds. A spark burned in his gaze, and he took a step toward her, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. He tilted up her chin with one finger. “You’re beautiful, Christy Grey.” He breathed the words so quietly she wasn’t sure she’d heard them, and then he bent his head toward her lips.

The moment lingered as he drew closer, his breath soft on her cheek. She closed her eyes, a hungry anticipation sending her pulse into a rapid gallop….

A minute later, running footsteps thudded in the hallway behind her, and Christy jerked back from Nevada’s touch, her heart pounding the blood into her ears. She whirled to see John Draper sliding to a halt.

“She’s here!”

“Who?” Nevada and Christy echoed the word in the same breath.

“Sara. She just walked in the front door.”

Nevada spun toward John, relief mixed with frustration hammering at his mind. If only his friend would have delayed his arrival another few minutes he’d—what would he have done? Kissed Christy and gotten slapped for his pains? He was a fool to think she’d welcome his advances. He didn’t even know if she’d heard his whispered words and had shocked himself when he’d said them. Something too big to resist had come over him as he’d gazed into those mesmerizing green eyes. He’d felt bewitched and unable to stop himself from kissing her. Maybe it was a good thing John interrupted after all.

The words John had spoken leapt to life. Sara was here. Nevada bolted down the hall after John and Christy, his lungs burning and limbs shaking with the exertion. The memory of his sister, Carrie, swam before his vision. It didn’t matter if he fell flat on his face in the lobby; he wanted to see for himself that Sara was safe.

He rounded the corner in time to hear a happy cry erupt from Christy. She dashed forward and wrapped Sara in a hug as both women burst into tears. Strange this was the first time he’d seen that kind of emotion from Christy, but he felt moisture touch the corners of his eyes too. The girl appeared unharmed, but he’d know more once she removed herself from Christy’s embrace.

John stood back, his face wreathed in a smile, while Nellie hurried forward, her coos of delight filling the air. “This must be little Sara, who we’ve been prayin’ for all night.” She reached out to stroke the girl’s disheveled blond curls.

Sara loosened her hold on Christy and stepped back, swiping at the tears still coating her cheeks. “You’ve been prayin’ for me?”

Nevada experienced a jolt of surprise at the realization that he too had spent much of the time between wakefulness and sleep petitioning heaven on her behalf. And here Sara stood, safe and alive, when he’d doubted God would hear. Sorrow at how far he’d fallen warred with a tremendous surge of joy that, in spite of his lack of faith, God had seen fit to answer. Something akin to trust stirred deep in his spirit, and his soul sent out the first tentative shoots towards his heavenly Father in years.

Nellie took a handkerchief from her dress pocket, pressing it into Sara’s hand. “Yes, dearie. I knew the good Lord would bring ya home safe. And glory to His name, He did!”

“Home?” Sara looked around with a puzzled expression.

“Aye, that it is. I own this place. I’ve a room waitin’ upstairs for ya, with a comfortable bed all turned back and ready to tumble in. Unless ya’d care for a bath first and a bite to eat?”

Sara’s eyes widened, then she broke into renewed sobs. This time Nellie wrapped her arms around the girl and smiled at the others. “I’ll take the wee one upstairs, get her cleaned up, and put her to bed. Come along, sweetness.” She urged Sara forward, and together they disappeared down the hall.

Silence fell on the three standing in the foyer, and then John cleared his throat. “Guess now that Sara is back, I’ll get over to my shop. Got a brace of work waitin’ for me.”

Nevada rubbed his hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble and wishing for a bath. His hair smelled like smoke, and his skin itched. “I’ll be there tomorrow to help you get caught up. Just need one night to rest, and I’ll be right as rain.”

John rounded on Nevada and scowled. “Not on your life. You come over any time sooner than a week, and I’ll toss you out on your ear. And I don’t mean maybe, either.” He turned and stomped out the door without looking back.

Christy covered her mouth with her hand, but a giggle broke through. “My, he can be fierce when he wants to, can’t he?”

“John’s a good man to have on your side, but I guess I’d best not rile him by traipsing over there tomorrow.” Feeling himself sag, Nevada gripped the edge of the counter.

“You need to get back in bed.” Christy reached for his arm.

The door swung open again, and Nevada turned with a retort, ready to level a jest at John, but the words died before they were born.

Tom Parks, the man who’d agreed to help him hunt Jake, stepped into the room. He removed his hat, nodded at Christy, and held out his hand to Nevada. “Good to see you again.”

“Same to you. What brings you here? You looking for a place to bunk?” Nevada gripped the other man’s hand.

“No, I’ve got it covered. I’m looking for a woman by the name of Christy Grey.”

Nevada heard a sharp intake of breath beside him and felt Christy move forward. “I’m Miss Grey. How can I help you?”

He gave a small bow and smiled. “Tom Parks, ma’am.” He shot a look at Nevada before returning his attention to her. “I work for the Wells Fargo Company, and I have some questions about the stage robbery.”

Christy fumed at the interruption. A stranger stood in the foyer, demanding to know about the holdup, when all she wanted to think about was Nevada. If she didn’t know better, she’d imagine the cowboy had been about to kiss her. Had she dreamed his breathless “you’re beautiful, Christy Grey,” or had the words come from his mouth? She praised God for bringing Sara back safely but couldn’t deny the fact she wished John’s announcement had come a bit later. What might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted? Her insides quivered with the memory of Nevada leaning over her, his eyes half closed. If only…

Then a man cleared his throat, and Christy was startled back to the present.

She stared at the nice-looking individual who could’ve passed for a rancher. He worked for Wells Fargo but didn’t say if he was employed as a detective or was a clerk sent to ask questions. Either way, she knew what he’d come about and didn’t care to respond.

“This isn’t a good time,” she said stiffly. “I need to check on my mother.” She made a half turn.

“I’ll only require a couple of minutes, and then I won’t bother you again, Miss Grey.” Disapproval tugged at his lips.

Nevada took a step back, glancing from one to the other. “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”

Concern shot through Christy’s heart. “Of course. You need to rest.”

Tom Parks peered at Nevada. “Anything wrong?”

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.” He nodded to Christy. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m sure.” She watched him move slowly back up the hallway before turning to the stranger still waiting inside the door. “Would you care to sit down?” She motioned to two stuffed chairs tucked into the corner of the lobby.

“No, thank you, ma’am. Like I said, this shouldn’t take long.”

She eyed the man, certain she knew what was coming. The marshal had been unsuccessful in getting information, so Wells Fargo must have sent this agent instead. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of telling what she knew if President Garfield himself appeared at the door.

“If you’re here to ask me to describe the men who held up the stage, I already told the marshal I can’t do that.”

“That’s not my intent.”

“Oh?”

“I need to know if you can remember anything distinctive about the leader. His voice, how tall he is, anything at all.”

“Only the leader?” She rocked on her heels.

“Yes.”

Christy felt her guard slipping and grabbed it with both hands, pulling it back up like a shield. “I don’t remember anything about him.”

“Would you say he was a tall man, or short and stout?” Parks turned his hat in his hands.

“Hmm.” She slanted her head to the side and thought. “Rather on the large side, I think. Broad, powerful shoulders and longish brown hair that fell past his collar under the mask.”

Parks grinned. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Miss? Do you remember anything else?”

She shook her head, then stopped as something niggled at her memory. “His laugh. It sounded like something was wrong with his throat. Rough and tight. I can’t really explain it.”