Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona

by Miralee Ferrell

  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.”

  “Ah-huh. That’s a big help, thank you.” He took a step towards the door and reached for the knob.

  Christy stared, not daring to hope she’d get off so easily. “That’s it? You didn’t ask me about the man who bandaged my arm.” As soon as she said the words, her heart sank in dismay. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. Parks was ready to walk out the door and she as much as asked him to stay and question her further. She turned to leave. “Good night then, Mr. Parks.”

  “Miss Grey?” The tone of his voice halted Christy in her tracks.

  “Yes?” Her breath caught in her throat.

  “You seem to be protecting someone, and I’d like to understand why.”

  Warmth stole to her cheeks. “I won’t pretend I don’t know what you mean.”

  He nodded but didn’t reply.

  “One of the men bandaged my wound when I thought I might bleed to death. He took me aside and spoke to me as he worked, explaining he wasn’t part of the gang.”

  “And you believed him?” His brows rose, but the rest of his face remained impassive.

  “Not at first, as I assumed he must be with them. Then I realized he came several minutes after the others attacked. He assured me he’d only stumbled across their camp the night before and stopped for a meal. He didn’t know what they intended until after I’d been shot.”

  “So you think he came to help you, rather than take part in the robbery?”

  “I do.”

  “Right now I can assure you I’m only interested in the leader of the gang. All right?”

  She swiveled and eyed him through narrowed lids. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to at this point. You can trust I know what I’m doing.”

  “How? I’ve just met you.”

  “That you have, Miss Grey, that you have. Let’s suffice it to say I have a reason for not disclosing everything I know.” He placed his hat back on and touched the brim. “I bid you good day.”

  Nevada paced the confines of his room, his insides twisting in knots. Tom Parks an agent for Wells Fargo? Somehow he’d known the man wasn’t merely another cowpoke or ranchman whiling away time in To
mbstone. Why hadn’t Parks admitted his occupation when they’d talked that evening in the Golden Eagle? It was possible the man suspected his involvement in the stagecoach holdup and hoped to uncover the truth from Christy. But he’d expressed an interest in Jake, the leader of the outlaw band, so that might be all there was to his visit.

  Whatever the reason, Nevada had better be prepared with a plan if things started unraveling, or there’d be a neatly knotted rope around his neck. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and encountered something soft. He withdrew a square of cloth and allowed the corners to fall open on the palm of his hand, exposing the delicate cameo brooch he’d demanded from Jake after the robbery. How could he have forgotten to return this to Christy? He’d meant to do it long ago.

  Time to set things right. He headed for the door and then paused, his hand touching the knob. If Tom Parks still waited in the lobby, it wouldn’t look good to appear holding an item taken from one of the passengers. Stepping over to the bureau, he plucked the brooch from the cloth and set it carefully on the smooth surface next to the water pitcher. Tomorrow would be soon enough to return it, when he knew there’d be no chance of involvement from the investigating agent. Hopefully Christy would be pleased to have her grandmother’s brooch again and wouldn’t think too poorly of him for waiting so long.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Christy leaned over Sara’s bed and smoothed the hair from the sleeping girl’s forehead, hating to wake her but knowing she must be hungry after her ordeal.

  Sara stirred, her head moving from one side of the pillow to the other. “No, don’t touch me. Leave me alone!” Her voice rose in a near shriek, and her hands struck at Christy.

  “Shh. It’s me, Christy. No one is going to hurt you.” She kept talking in a soothing tone until Sara quieted.

  The young woman’s eyes opened. “I’m sorry. I guess I must have been dreamin’ one of the customers—” Silent tears coursed down her pale cheeks.

  “It’s all right. No need to explain. I understand.” Christy pulled up a chair and sat, then cradled Sara’s hand in both of her own. “You’re safe now. No one will ever touch you again in that way.”

  Large, sad eyes, still misty with tears, focused on Christy. “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of hours. We let you sleep, but it’s almost suppertime, and I thought you might like me to bring you a tray. Are you able to eat?”

  “I don’t know.” Sara hitched herself a little higher against the headboard, and Christy placed another pillow under her head. “Maybe a little.”

  “Nellie has some wonderful soup and fresh bread, along with real milk. Does that sound good?”

  Sara brightened. “Yes. But I can come down.” She tried to sit up.

  “You mustn’t get up tonight,” Christy said gently. “We want you to rest. Doctor Goodfellow will be by to see you in the morning and check on your baby.”

  Sara’s hand flew to her middle. “Is everything all right? I haven’t lost it, have I?”

  “No, honey, and I’m sorry I worried you.” Christy leaned over and placed a tender kiss on Sara’s forehead. “Nellie and I thought it would be a good idea for the doctor to see you and make sure everything is fine.”

  “Okay.” She turned a puzzled gaze on Christy. “Who’s Nellie?”

  “She’s the lady who owns this place. Do you remember her bringing you upstairs and putting you to bed?”

  “Not very well. I was so tired and frightened—and thankful to get out of that tent—I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly.”

  “Who took you, Sara? Was it Gordon Townsley?” Christy had never trusted the saloon manager, and right now she’d like to impose some bodily harm on him.

  “Yes, but he sent some of his flunkies to do his dirty work. One of them mentioned ‘the boss’ and the other said Townsley wants me for himself. I tried to ignore the rest of what they said about me, although it wasn’t much compared to things I’ve heard men say in the past.” Sara turned her head away and faced the brocade-covered wall on the far side of her bed. “That’s all I’m good for, you know. Pleasing men.”

  Christy placed her finger under Sara’s chin, drawing her around. “Don’t ever say, or think, that again. You are precious in God’s sight, and He loves you so much. It’s not your fault you ended up in a horrible place where men did despicable things to you. And even if you’d made that decision for yourself, God will still forgive you if you ask Him to.”

  Sara gave a small shake of her head, dislodging Christy’s hand. “I didn’t choose to go there, but I didn’t have much say in it, neither. After my folks died, I was near to starvin’ and gettin’ sickly. That’s when Gordon found me. He promised me a place to live, food to eat, and made it sound like a home. I went ’cause I believed him. It was true the first couple of weeks, till I got stronger and gained a little weight. Then he told me I needed to earn my keep.”

  “He brought you to the Oriental?” Christy gritted her teeth to keep back the flow of words she’d like to heap on the man’s head. No sense in frightening Sara further. The poor girl had been through so much.

  “Yes. At first he only asked me to serve drinks and didn’t let anyone touch me. But after a while, things changed. Men started offerin’ him good money to ‘spend time’ with me. I could tell he didn’t like it at first, but that didn’t last long. He started by sendin’ Joshua to my room. I think he figured Joshua wouldn’t repulse me, and I wouldn’t fight him.” She blushed, then the color drained from her cheeks. “But after two or three weeks he sent horrible men to my room….” Sara rubbed her upper arms, her chin quivering.

  “It’s behind you now,” Christy murmured. “We’re going to make sure you have a new life.”

  “But I can’t afford to stay here. I need to make my own way.”

  “Nellie wants you to stay. She’s given me a job, and when you’re strong enough, you can help with light work in exchange for your room and board.”

  “Why would she do that? I’m a stranger and a fallen woman. No one who’s decent—except you—wants anything to do with me.”

  “That’s not true. There are other Christian people who won’t look down their nose at you. Granted, some will, but those kind aren’t worth bothering with. Nellie loves the Lord and is committed to doing His work here in Tombstone. She’s helped many people, and some of the men are already calling her ‘The Angel of Mercy,’ and I agree.” She brushed a strand of golden hair from Sara’s cheek. “Rest for a while, and I’ll bring you supper. And no more thinking poorly of yourself. You need to get strong for the wee one you’re carrying.”

  “Thank you, Christy. I don’t know how I’d have survived without you.” Sara squeezed Christy’s hand. “I believe in God’s love because you’ve shown it to me.”

  Christy drew the door shut behind her and stood in the hall, her shaking hands swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Love like she’d never felt swelled her heart until she thought it would burst. Peace and joy threatened to swamp her, and gratitude to God Almighty brought on more tears. She pressed her back against the wall and bowed her face into her hands, suddenly overwhelmed with the impact of Sara’s words.

  She’d made a difference in someone’s life and shown them God’s love. It was real. All of it. Everything Alexia had tried to tell her these past four years. God accepted and loved her, just for who she was. She didn’t need to prove anything to Him, other than returning His love. But now she knew she could. Freely. Without reservation. From this day on, she belonged to Him.

  Early the next morning Christy checked on her mother sleeping peacefully in the adjoining bed and slipped out of her room. It was the first night in many that her mother’s coughing hadn’t kept Christy awake through the night. And now Ma’s skin looked cool and dry. Joshua needed exercise as well, beyond sitting in the chair in his room, and Doctor Goodfellow agreed it was time for him to be up and around. The wounds had healed in his stomach, but the doc didn’t want her brother taking chances by d
oing too much. Keeping him corralled might be a problem. At least the fact that his favorite gambling haunt burned down would keep him from traipsing back to the poker table anytime soon. Besides, she’d hogtie him if he even hinted at gambling again.

  She headed for the lobby, hoping to find Nellie. Sitting around without doing her part didn’t sit well on Christy’s conscience. Rounding the corner in the front of the building, she heard Nellie singing an old familiar hymn. She paused to listen. Not once since arriving in Tombstone had she considered attending Sunday services, but the lovely melody coming from her new friend ignited a longing to do so.

  Nellie looked up from polishing the surface of a low table in the lobby. “Good mornin’, dear. Yer up awfully early. Couldn’t ya sleep?”

  “I think I had my first restful night since arriving in town. I hoped to find you before the day got busy to see what you’d like me to do.”

  “Why, take care of yer family and Sara. Nothin’ else.”

  “No, ma’am, that won’t do at all. Sara will more than likely be up and around today, and Ma’s sleeping peacefully. Josh needs very little care anymore, and you hired me to work.” She rocked on her heels. “So give me a job.”

  A tinkling laugh broke from Nellie. “All right. How about takin’ over the dustin’ and sweepin’ the foyer before any more dirty feet come this way? After breakfast ya can fill the water pitchers in the occupied rooms. Tap on the door and see if anyone’s at home. If not, slip inside, get the pitcher, and bring it to the kitchen for fresh water. My boarders are used to havin’ that done of a mornin’.”

  “All right, thank you. How about meals? May I help with those?”

  “No. My cook and servin’ staff are well trained to care for the boarders and any payin’ customers who stop in, but thank ya for offering. Now go along with ya and check on your mama and Sara before breakfast is served.” She shooed Christy out of the room with her rag, her rich contralto laugh echoing down the hall.