Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona (25 page)

Nevada shot a look from Joshua to the beaming girl, whose eyes were turned on the young man in happy adoration. “Glad I was there for you both, but any decent man would’ve done the same.”

Joshua shook his head. “Not everyone in this town is decent. Just the same, I’m beholden.”

Christy held out her hand. “Would you care to join us, Nevada?”

“How about your mother?” He scanned the hall behind the group but saw no sign of anyone else exiting a door. “Isn’t she coming?”

“Not this morning. I told her to stay in bed and rest. I’m taking a tray to her when we finish.” Christy touched his arm with the tips of her fingers. “You’ll come, won’t you? Please?”

Nevada didn’t want to move. He prayed she’d keep her hand there a moment longer, but she stepped away and motioned inside. He cleared his throat. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

They made their way to a table and the men held the chairs for the ladies, waiting for them to be seated before taking their places. Nevada had faced numerous guns pointed his direction over the years and dodged more bullets than he could count, but he’d never experienced the panic hitting him now as he sat next to Christy Grey.

Sara spoke in a low voice to Joshua, and he leaned closer to hear. As their heads bent over their conversation, they seemed to shut out the world around them.

Christy’s eyes twinkled as she gazed into Nevada’s. She leaned close and lowered her voice. “I think Joshua may be smitten.”

Nevada’s tension eased, and he grinned. “Somehow I don’t think he’s the only one.”

“It might be what they both need.” Straightening, she plucked the linen napkin off the table and spread it over her lap.

Nellie approached their table. Her fine-boned face lit as she came to a stop. “How is everyone this mornin’? Sara, honey, did ya sleep well?”

Sara nodded, shyness settling over her features. “Yes, ma’am, right fine. Thank you again for lettin’ me stay. I’ll pull my weight, I promise.”

Nellie patted the girl’s back. “There now, I’ll not have ya worryin’ about it anytime soon. Eat hearty, then get some rest.” She gestured to the small placards stacked in the center of the table. “Those are breakfast menus for the guests. You can choose anything you care to eat. It’s smaller than the one we offer on weekends, but the food is wonderful. There’s coffee or tea, as well.”

They spent a few minutes reviewing the menu, then placed their order for oatmeal, fresh apples, pudding, ham, bread, and coffee.

Nevada turned to Christy. “Nellie’s amazing. I’ve never met someone as kind and generous.”

“I know. It was enough she offered me a job, but to invite my entire family and Sara to live here…it’s almost more than I can take in.” The final words came out in a whisper.

Nevada bent a little closer to Christy. The fragrance of lavender tickled his nose. He closed his eyes briefly to savor the delicate scent that made him acutely aware of this feminine woman. The old longing for a home and wife of his own rose within him. He wanted to reach for her hand and not let go.

But he had no right, and she’d not shown any indication she might care. Each time he was in her presence his awareness of her grew, but not just due to her physical body or lovely looks. Christy’s inner beauty, her sweetness, her generous spirit and kindness to those around her, drew him at a deeper level than he’d been drawn to any woman in the past—even Marie.

The knowledge surprised him. He’d never believed he’d care for anyone else in the way he’d loved Marie, but they’d been barely out of their teens when they’d fallen in love. He was a man now, with a man’s awareness, appreciation, and needs, and something inside convinced him Christy would meet those needs like no one he’d ever known.

The touch of her fingers on his jerked him back to the present, and he started. She dropped her hand, soft color suffusing her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I spoke to you, and you didn’t appear to hear me.”

A warmth rushed to Nevada’s heart. He cared for this woman more than he had a right to, but he couldn’t help it—nor did he want to let go of the feeling. “Forgive me. I was gathering wool for a moment.”

“Is something bothering you?” Her rich green eyes drew him into their depths.

Nevada settled back into his chair, trying to break the spell. If an old enemy walked through the door hunting him at this moment, he’d be doomed. “No, I’m fine.” He smiled at the waitress as she poured coffee into his mug, then took a sip of the hot brew before continuing. “I
have
been wondering about Tom Parks’ visit, though.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Parks.” A dimple showed. “You’ve nothing to worry about on his account.” She glanced at Sara and Joshua and dropped her voice. “He’s hunting the leader of the outlaws who robbed the stage, and he didn’t pressure me to describe the man who bandaged my arm. He asked me a couple of questions regarding the leader and then departed.”

“That’s it? Nothing else?” Nevada asked.

“I did inquire as to why he didn’t press me for more answers. He acted like he might believe me when I told him your story about coming upon the outlaws the night before. Said he had his own reason for not explaining.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what he meant, but I was satisfied when he didn’t pursue the matter.”

Nevada’s heart rate increased. “His own reasons, huh? Wonder what he meant.” He picked up his cup and took another drink. “Let’s not worry about it now, shall we? How about you? What are your plans?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean. Just to care for my mother until she’s well, and work for Nellie. Nothing more.”

“How about beyond that? Do you want to live in Tombstone after your mother regains her health?” He leaned back farther as the server placed a bowl of porridge near his cup. Steam rose off the top, emitting a mouthwatering fragrance.

The waitress took a small pitcher from the serving tray she carried and put it in the middle of the table. “There’s sugar in the bowl for your porridge and more milk in the pitcher.” She continued to place bowls in front of the other three. “Someone will be along shortly with the rest of your meal.”

Christy waited until the woman left, then reached for the milk and poured a portion into her bowl.

A giggle broke from Sara, and Joshua chuckled. They didn’t seem aware of the food in front of them.

Christy gently cleared her throat. “Joshua, you might want to eat before it gets cold.”

“Huh?” He raised a bemused face. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” He fumbled for his spoon and dipped it into the porridge, not seeming to notice the milk.

Christy rolled her eyes at Nevada. “To be young again.”

Nevada smiled. “You can’t be much older than Joshua.”

“I’m afraid I am. He’s nineteen, and I’m twenty-five, but at times, I feel much older.”

“I have four years on you. I don’t think I’d care to—be that age again, I mean.”

She raised her brows but didn’t reply.

“I went through more at that age than I care to remember.” He ducked his head and raised the spoon.

“Someday I’d like to hear about it, if you’d care to tell me.” Her voice was quiet, soothing.

Only the clink of spoons against the edge of the bowls and the buzz of conversation at neighboring tables could be heard as the four bent to their task. Plates of food were put before them, and the bowls whisked away as the last bite was scraped from the bottom. Nellie walked past again but didn’t pause this time, just glanced at their coffee cups and beckoned to a server, who hurried over to refill them.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Nevada put down his fork and lifted his napkin to his lips. At her quizzical look he continued. “About what you hope to do after your mother is well.”

“I guess I haven’t thought that far.”

“How about marriage?” The instant he said the words, he clamped his teeth shut in horror. What a stupid blunder. Would she think him bold or coarse to ask such a thing?

She tilted her head to the side and seemed to carefully consider the question. “I think I’ve about given up on marriage and am resigned to live alone. At one time I thought it would happen. In fact, I was engaged to a very kind man.”

Jealousy reared its head in Nevada so quickly it threatened to choke him. She’d loved someone else, but the man hadn’t married her? What a fool. Nevada had to ask. “What happened?”

“He died.” The simple words were spoken without much emotion, as if they were simply a statement of fact. No deep grief or anger burned in her eyes. “Kicked in the head by a horse.”

“I’m sorry.” It sounded so inadequate, but what should he say? “I’m happy he’s dead”? Shame washed over him at the pleasure bubbling inside. He had no right to be gratified at someone else’s misfortune.

“Yes. He was a good man and loved me.” She toyed with her fork, then laid it beside her plate and raised wistful green eyes. “But I’m afraid I didn’t deserve him. I cared about him but would never have been able to give him the love he desired.”

Nevada controlled his next words, making sure he kept his emotions in check. “But you planned to marry him.”

“Yes. He…accepted me. In spite of everything. I honored him for that and wanted to make him happy. I don’t think there’s another man who could ignore my past, and I’ve made my peace with that fact.” She folded her napkin, laying it beside her plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get some chores done for Nellie.”

Nevada leapt from his place and grasped the top of her chair, sliding it back so she could rise. “Christy?”

She turned and faced him, but her features that had been so open and vulnerable only seconds before were shuttered. “Yes?”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“About what?” She gathered the fabric of her skirt and swept it aside, stepping around the chair.

“I know at least one man who doesn’t care a fig about your past…only about making you happy.”

A flash of wonder and the briefest glimmer of hope darkened Christy’s eyes as she stared up at him. Then the light dimmed, and she shook her head. “No. I’m sure you mean well, but I can’t accept that after knowing you shot Logan.”

Nevada’s senses went on alert, and his muscles stiffened. “Logan Malone? How do you know him?”

Christy took a step back. “He was my stepfather. It’s true then? You’re Nevada King, the man Logan’s cousin Jake telegraphed us about.” She twisted her fingers together in front of her waist. “I didn’t want to believe it before, but you’re the one who killed Ma’s husband.”

Nevada’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Words wouldn’t come. How could he have lived in this town all these weeks, taken water to Christy’s home, and not known her mother was married to Logan Malone? A deep, wrenching groan broke from his throat, and he extended his hand toward her. “Christy. Please at least let me explain.”

Christy only stared at him. “I’ve got to go.” She walked away without looking back.

Joshua and Sara’s voices behind him barely registered on his senses. The look in Christy’s eyes before she lowered them had pierced Nevada’s heart. Now he knew how the men he’d shot had felt when they realized they were dying. As far as he was concerned, his hope of happiness had just walked out the door.

Christy prayed she wouldn’t bump into Nevada while refilling water pitchers. She intentionally left the handsome cowboy’s room for last. She knocked at his door once, then again, with no response. Gripping the knob, she turned it gently and waited, then pushed the door a few inches and stopped. “Nevada? Are you here?”

No masculine voice answered, and she swung the door the rest of the way, walking across the threshold. Her mouth dropped open as she surveyed the room. The bed was neatly made, with the sheet tucked under the mattress, and the single blanket pulled up to the pillow. Clothing hung on pegs behind the door, and no dust showed on the flat surfaces in the room. Nothing seemed out of place.

She trembled, just thinking about the man who lived here. Her emotions had swung like a metronome since meeting him, and she still didn’t know how she felt. The truth of her accusation against Nevada cut deep. He’d asked for a chance to explain, but what could he say? She’d been repulsed in years past by Logan’s reputation as a troublemaker and gunfighter, and the thought that Nevada might be cut out of the same cloth rankled.

From all appearance, he wasn’t someone to trifle with—handy with both his fists and a gun. She’d been convinced of his status as an outlaw and then observed the tender, kind side that gave to others with no thought for himself. He’d helped her family, saved Sara, and procured this job for her with Nellie. Those weren’t marks of an outlaw or someone intent on doing evil, but he hadn’t denied his involvement in her stepfather’s death.

Maybe allowing him to explain was the right thing to do, if she could be certain he’d tell the truth. She hated this indecisive seesawing. The best thing would be to simply stay away from Nevada as often as possible.

Then why the rush of longing as she remembered those whispered words at the table? Could it be possible he’d overlook her past and accept her as a wife and companion? No. He hadn’t said he was that man, and she wouldn’t read anything more into his words. Besides, the last thing she needed was someone fast with a gun who’d probably end up dying young.

Enough daydreaming about a future that wouldn’t happen. This was her last room, and she needed to check on her mother. She hurried across to the bureau and reached for the pitcher, lifting it off the surface. A small object slid over the edge and landed on the braided rug between the bureau and the end of the bed. She set the pitcher back down and bent over. Hopefully whatever it was hadn’t broken.

Christy hiked up her skirt and knelt, then leaned over and peered under the edge of the bureau. Light glistened off of ivory. She reached underneath and grasped the small object, pulling it out in her closed hand. Pushing to her feet, she steadied herself by gripping the front edge of the dresser. Nevada needed to be more careful and not leave things where they could get lost. Christy uncurled her fingers to set the object back where it belonged—and gasped. Her grandmother’s cameo brooch lay on the palm of her hand.

Nevada had wandered the streets for the past hour with little memory of where he’d gone or who he’d spoken to. Logan Malone had been married to Christy’s mother. The horrible truth flayed his emotions until they felt raw. Never had he hated what he’d become as much as in that moment. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. How had his life come to this place? So much hurt, anger, and unforgiveness. He slowed his aimless walk on the outskirts of town, his mind examining that word. Whom hadn’t he forgiven? Sure, there were men who’d wronged him in years past, but he’d never held a grudge. So where did the idea of forgiving spring from?

A bitter taste sat on his tongue, making him want to spit. The old anger surged as his thoughts flew back to his fiancée, Marie. It was God’s fault he trod this path today. In the past he’d always nurtured that thought, stroked and welcomed it, but today it didn’t hold the same attraction. Christy’s expression as she accused him of her stepfather’s death nearly buckled his knees. God hadn’t forced him to shoot that man, or any other who came against him. Sure, he could justify them as self-defense, but it didn’t ease his conscience any.

Sara’s humility as she thanked him rang in his ears. He’d saved her from a horrible life, but then he’d collapsed and nearly died in the process. John claimed he wouldn’t have found him if God hadn’t shown him the way through the smoke. Memories from the past bubbled to the surface—times when he should have died but hadn’t. Was God protecting him all those times, in spite of his anger and unforgiving spirit?

Shame coursed through his mind. He leaned against a building and hung his head as waves of conviction lapped at his soul. God loved him and hadn’t forgotten him. God had never abandoned Marie when she died, or Carrie when she’d run away from home. He’d been there all along, bringing comfort to the grieving and peace to those who sought it. But Nevada had neglected to see those things—had chosen instead to turn his back and walk away. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Please, if You can forgive me, take me back.”

Nevada stood with his head bowed in his hands. Recapturing the peace he’d once known from his heavenly Father was all that mattered. “God, I give it all to You. Everything. Christy, my past, my future.”

The last trace of guilt and shame melted under the overwhelming peace filling his body. Grace, bigger than anything he’d understood before, poured like a waterfall over his bruised and battered emotions. His spine stiffened, and his chin lifted. New strength ran through his veins. Forgiveness. He’d given and he’d received. From now on, he’d walk it out. He’d find a way to never pull the trigger on another man as long as he lived.

He pushed from the wall and headed for the Russ House. Maybe God would provide an opening to talk to Christy and ask her forgiveness, and a chance to explain. So many things in his life needed to be dealt with, but this one pained him like a sore tooth.

The parlor appeared deserted, and no one stood behind the desk. Nevada took a step toward the back hall when a rattling cough halted his progress. He pivoted midstride, certain of who he’d see. Christy’s mother sat in a high-backed chair, gasping for air. Nevada crossed the room and knelt beside the ailing woman. “Can I help you, Mrs. Malone?” He winced as the name tumbled off his lips.

She raised watery eyes, a handkerchief covering her mouth. “Water, if you please?” The cloth muffled the words.

He pushed to his feet and hurried behind the counter. Pouring a glass almost to the top, he returned to the woman and pressed it into her hand.

She sipped at the liquid and leaned back in her chair, fixing him with a narrowed gaze. “And who are you, young man?”

“The name’s Nevada, ma’am.” He drew in a short breath. “But my Christian name is James King. I’m the one who brought your son home. I’ve been delivering barrels of water.”

She studied his face. “You’re Christy’s friend?” A frown furrowed her brow, then disappeared. “Pleased to meet you, and thank you for the water.”

“Would you like me to help you back to your room?”

“I hoped to find my daughter, but she doesn’t appear to be around.” She placed the glass on a table and put her hands on the arm of the chair. “That would be a kindness, if you don’t mind helping a sick old woman.”

“Surely.” Nevada helped her up, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Lean on me if you need to.” He walked slowly down the hall to the room she’d been assigned, his heart beating a rapid staccato against his chest. He’d seen the impact his name had on Mrs. Malone and dreaded the moment she figured out his identity.

They’d almost arrived at her door when hurrying footsteps approached from the opposite direction, and Christy rounded the corner. “Ma! What are you doing out of bed?” She rushed forward, her attention fixed on her mother.

Nevada’s stomach clenched. “I’ll bid you good evening, ma’am.”

Christy’s mother turned with a smile and patted his arm. “Thank you, young man. You’re a godsend to our family.”

Despair hammered at Nevada’s mind, but he pushed it aside. He’d given his life back to God and wouldn’t pick up his burden of self-loathing again. He’d started down the hall and was almost to the corner when he heard Mrs. Malone’s piercing voice.

“Christy, I remember now. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out where I heard that man’s name before. He said it’s King. That’s what the telegram from Jake told us. A gunfighter named King killed Logan.” A loud moan issued from her lips right before her body thumped to the floor.