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.
Chapter Twenty-three
Christy stared in horror, then dropped to her mother’s side. “Ma!” She stared up at Nevada. “I need to get her in bed.”
Why hadn’t she told her mother about Nevada before now? Probably because it had never occurred to her that Ma would learn his last name or recognize him as the man who might have shot Logan. Christy only had herself to blame if this worsened her ma’s condition.
Nevada touched Christy’s shoulder, concern etching his rugged features. “Let me help.” He didn’t wait for a response but scooped the woman into his arms with one easy motion. “If you could get her door?” Christy held it open, and he laid the unconscious woman gently onto the bed. “Should I call the doctor?”
“I think that might be best, thank you. See if Nellie could come as well?”
Christy poured water into the washbowl and dipped in a clean cloth, then wrung it out. She wiped her mother’s face as Nevada hurried away, his boots thudding on the wood floor and disappearing into the distance.
The silence that had settled over the room was suddenly broken. Ma rolled onto her side. A cough came from deep inside. She gasped, moaned, and the coughing spasm began again.
Christy rushed to rinse out the cloth. She bent over her mother and drew in a harsh breath. Blood tinged the spittle forming around Ivy’s lips, and the pillow cover was spotted with drops of deep red.
Christy and Nellie took turns sitting beside Ivy Malone as the woman drifted in and out of consciousness over the next forty-eight hours. She rallied for a couple of hours at a time, then sank back even deeper.
Joshua hovered outside the door but appeared afraid to stay more than a few minutes at a time, although at one point Christy heard him whisper his love as he bent to kiss his mother’s forehead. However, when he offered to tote water and bring trays of food, Christy’s heart soared at the evidence of her brother’s growing maturity since his own personal brush with death. He’d not once suggested returning to the gambling halls and had even hinted at finding a job to help with the family expenses.
A tap drew Christy to her feet, and she opened the door several inches. She’d started her shift and sent Sara to dinner with Joshua. Nevada stood in the hallway, his hat in his hands, his eyes sorrowful.
She glanced back at the quiet form in the bed, then slipped out into the hall. “I’m surprised you came.” She regretted her words as soon as they left her. He’d helped them tremendously, but she still struggled to get past the bitterness.
Nevada’s eyes reflected his hurt, but he bowed his head in acknowledgment. “How is she?”
“Sleeping peacefully. The doctor gave her laudanum. He’s coming back to check on her later this evening.”
He shuffled his hat brim around in a circle. “Do you think we could talk for a moment?” Longing suffused his face.
Christy’s heart lurched in spite of her desire to remain angry. “I don’t see how. I need to stay with her.”
Footsteps padded on the floor, and a cheery whistle preceded Nellie’s appearance from around the corner. “Christy, my love, ya haven’t eaten a bite all day. I insist ya go to the dinin’ room. I know it’s not my shift to sit with yer mama, but I’m free right now.” She waved her hands at them. “Shoo. Yer lookin’ downright peaked, both of ya.”
Nevada offered his arm. “I’d love to.”
Christy hesitated, then gave in. No sense in claiming she wasn’t hungry or didn’t desire to sit near this man; she wanted the latter with a vengeance, regardless of the consequences. “Thank you, Nellie. For everything.” Tears welled in her eyes and
she blinked rapidly. “I don’t know what our family would do without you.”
“Oh, go along with ya. Just doin’ my Christian duty is all.” She clicked her tongue and pushed through the door into Ivy Malone’s room, shutting it gently behind her.
Nevada settled into the chair across the small table from Christy, not certain he’d be able to swallow a morsel of food, no matter how appetizing. “Are you feeling better about your mother’s condition now that Doc’s seen her?”
She sighed. “For now, but I’m afraid he doesn’t hold out a lot of hope for the future. He thinks she’s in the final stages of consumption and might not have long to live.” He couldn’t miss the pain that flickered across her face.
“I’m sorry.”
Her hand was resting on the tablecloth, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. She didn’t withdraw it, but decorum demanded he not allow his hand to linger. So he sat back but kept his gaze steady on her. “If there’s anything I can do…”
His words fell in the space between them like bricks hitting a rock road. He’d already done too much—damaged this family in a way that could never be repaired.
Christy shifted in her seat. “You’ve been a help since you arrived in town, even though it’s hard—” She raised agonized eyes and stared at him. “Why?”
The whispered word was so low Nevada wasn’t sure she’d spoken.
She leaned forward, afire with intensity. “Why did you shoot him, Nevada? Couldn’t you have walked away?”
Nevada flopped against the wooden chair. This was the conversation he’d always dreaded and never had—explaining his actions to a grieving family member.
She clasped her hands on the surface of the table. Her knuckles showed white.
He tried to gather his thoughts but failed miserably. “I don’t know if there’s ever true justification for a shooting, but there’s always a reason. Logan Malone called me out. I avoided him for days. He boasted around town that he planned to kill me. More than one man told me about Logan and his cousin Jake. Face Malone, or expect them to hunt you down.” He paused, suddenly aware of the relationship between Christy and the man. “Never mind. Let’s leave it at that.”
“No. I need to understand. It’s important.”
He blew a hard breath and slowly nodded. “Word was if I didn’t meet Malone in the street, he’d ambush me like he’d done with others, and then claim to have killed me after I drew my gun. When Logan called me out that final day, I told him to walk away. Told him he’d die. But he laughed. They all do.” Sorrow rose up and threatened to overwhelm him. The old feelings of hopelessness that swamped him after a shooting struggled to surface.
Nevada shrugged. “He wouldn’t back down. If I’d only wounded him, I’d probably be dead. Most men will keep shooting until they empty their gun. If I’d walked away, every gunfighter in the territory trying to make a name would hunt me down. They’d think I turned yellow. I’d be an easy target. Or worse, Logan and his cousin Jake would’ve camped on my trail till I faced them, or I’d have died with a bullet in my gut from some hidden location.” He clamped his lips shut. More than likely she’d hate him now after revealing the truth about her stepfather.
“I’m not surprised.” Again, the words came out in a near whisper and then gained in strength. “That sounds like Logan. I don’t know Jake. I’d never met him before he came to Tombstone a few days ago and stopped by our house to see Ma.”
A jolt shot through Nevada’s body. “You talked to him?”
She scrunched her brows. “Yes. Why?”
“What does he look like?”
“Large, dark hair, unkempt, with a scar on his cheek.”
A sickening knowledge surged through Nevada’s mind. “I’ve been afraid of this. I wasn’t sure until now, but—”
Christy’s eyes widened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t recognize his voice?”
“No…wait. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place it.”
“I’m positive Jake is the man who held up the stagecoach the day you arrived. He’s the leader of the outlaw gang.”
Her skin turned chalky white, and her hand flew to her heart. “His men were responsible for shooting me? My stepfather’s cousin?”
Nevada nodded. “But in all fairness, he couldn’t have known you were onboard. I didn’t realize who he was the night before in the camp. He wasn’t in town the day Logan died. If you’ve never met him before, he wouldn’t have recognized you even without your veil.”
Her teeth worried her bottom lip. “I don’t care. He’s despicable. Why is he in Tombstone? I’d think he’d have run as far as he could after the robbery.”
“Tom Parks thinks he’s planning another job. I know he is. I overheard him talking in the Oriental. The fire may have kept him from pulling it off. But there’s another reason he’s here.” Nevada placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward, his voice low. “To kill me.”
Christy gaped at Nevada, not sure she’d heard him correctly. “I’ve lost my appetite. I think I’ll go check on Ma.”
“Wait. Please?” Nevada’s hand once again covered her own.
His warm touch sent a quiver of pleasure up Christy’s arm, but she gently removed it and clasped her hands in her lap. “What is it?”
He sat back, his expression clouded with worry. “I can’t hope you’ll understand or forgive me, but I’m praying you don’t hate me.”
“I’m not sure what I feel at the moment.” She studied him, and the icy lump sitting in her throat started to dissolve. “But it’s not hatred.”
Nevada slumped against his chair. “Thank you.”
She waited a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts. “Would you care to walk with me? I can’t eat right now.”
“I’d enjoy that.” He came around to her chair and assisted her in rising.
They walked from the room in silence until they reached a small parlor back of the dining area reserved for guests and their friends. The empty room beckoned to Christy, and she motioned toward two chairs situated a couple of feet apart with a round table between. “It’s probably too hot outside to walk.”
“I agree.” He waited for her to be seated, then sank into the adjoining overstuffed chair.
Christy studied the brocade walls then allowed her gaze to roam the beautifully appointed area. High-backed, comfortable chairs, a flowered settee with a crocheted throw, and tightly woven colorful rugs all exuded a soothing sense of home. Strong awareness of the man beside her caused her to swivel and stare at him. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Nevada tensed. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Since the first time I met you, I’ve judged you.” A smile trembled at her lips. “I suppose I can be forgiven for thinking what I did after our…um…unusual start. But since then, you’ve shown nothing but kindness and consideration to my family and me.”
He started to answer, and she held up her hand. “Wait. Let me finish, please?” She needed to get the words out before she lost her courage. There’d been so much misunderstanding the past few weeks between herself and Nevada, but she knew the time had come to set things right.
Nodding, he sat back in his chair and waited.
Christy drew in a deep breath and let it out through her nostrils. “I believe you about Logan. I never liked him and never trusted him. He was a terrible influence on Joshua. He gambled, fought, and drank much of the time. I had no idea he’d stoop so low as to ambush someone, but I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.” She stopped. So much hung on this next question. “Why did you have my grandmother’s cameo brooch in your room?”
The warm tone of his tanned skin paled, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “You found it on the bureau?”
“Yes.” She noticed he didn’t ask why she’d entered his room. “When I went in to change the water in your pitcher.”
He met her gaze squarely. “I’m glad.”
Surprise pulsed
in her mind. This was not the answer she’d expected. Hot denial or some kind of excuse, but not the evident relief she saw. “Why?”
“I didn’t know how to return it to you without you assuming I’d taken it for payment.”
“Didn’t you?” The words had simply spilled out, and it was too late to take them back. Besides, he needed to explain, and she didn’t care to help him.
“No. I told Jake I wanted it for payment so he’d give it to me after I saw how much it hurt you to lose it. Even before I knew who you were I…” He hesitated and didn’t continue.
“Please. I’d like to hear the rest.”
“All right.” He placed his hands on his knees, his expression earnest. “I couldn’t stand it that they’d shot a woman, and you thought I had something to do with it. Then they took your brooch, and even though I couldn’t really see you, I heard the pain in your voice. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but I’ve never been party to harming a woman. I decided I’d do what it took to get the brooch back and hopefully prove I wasn’t in on the holdup. Every day for the first two or three weeks I expected the marshal to come calling.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just give it to me.” Christy kept her attention fixed on him, not wanting to miss even the flicker of an eyelash.
“You’d already believed the worst of me, and I figured giving it to you would convince you I’d been part of the robbery.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Guess I should’ve done the right thing and not tried to figure it all out.”
“But I don’t understand why you’ve even stayed in town if you were worried about the law. And why did it matter so much what I thought?” The words dragged themselves out of her innermost being. She’d longed to know the answer to these questions and had finally mustered the courage to ask.
Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona Page 22