Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona

by Miralee Ferrell

  “Of course not. I know you’re not well. I thought I’d start looking for a job today, if you’re up to caring for Joshua. I’ll come back and check on you often, at least until I find something. And maybe I can work a half day to start with, until he doesn’t require as much care.”

  Ma’s eyes seemed to brighten, and she leaned forward a little. “You still have your looks. It wouldn’t be hard for you to get on at the Golden Eagle or the Oriental. I hear tell they’re goin’ to open a fancy place soon at the other end of town called the Bird Cage Theater. Gonna have playactin’, singin’, and such like. Should bring in a pile of men wantin’ to wet their whistle and talk to a pretty girl. I’ll bet all of those places pay good money and they’re always lookin’ for help.”

  “Ma!” A shaft of pain bit deep into Christy’s insides. “I’ll never work in one of those places again.”

  “You ain’t suited for anything else, Daughter. What you think, you’re gonna get some highbrow job and be a fine lady?” Ma bit the words out and nearly spit them on the floor. “You’re a Grey, and nothin’ more. You was born poor, and you’ll die poor. Ain’t nobody in town who knows our family is gonna give you a job.”

  Christy felt as though she needed to bolt outside to the privy and empty her stomach. She’d always known her mother didn’t think highly of her, but she’d had no idea to what degree. “I worked at a boardinghouse in Last Chance. I’ll check some of those and see if I can’t find something. I’m sure I’ll find work before the day is out.” She forced herself to paste on a smile and pushed to her feet. “Now do you think you’ll be all right here with Joshua while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll be fine. I been takin’ care of myself and you kids all the times we didn’t have a man in the house and did just dandy.”

  Christy turned away before her mother could see her expression. Those times had been few and far between, but she didn’t care to think of that. She’d decided long ago to either honor her mother or stay clear of her. Right now she didn’t have the option of staying clear, so honor won out. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Ivy waved her hand in the air. “Don’t matter. We’ll get along. And remember, if they won’t take you at those boardinghouses, you ask around at them fancy saloons. Shouldn’t be hard to get on.” She stood and walked out of the room to where Joshua lay, not looking back.

  Christy plucked her hat off the peg behind the door and settled it on her head. Slow anger welled up inside, causing her hands to shake. She should have stayed in Last Chance, where people respected her. Over the past four years she’d earned a place for herself there, and most of the folks in town had even forgotten her background. Of course, there were still a handful of uppity women who put their nose in the air when she walked by, but the majority of the people were kind. Had it all been an act? Could her mother be right? The Malone name didn’t demand respect like some did, and apparently neither did Grey, but surely they didn’t deserve the disdain Ma painted them with. She wondered what her mother had been through since arriving in this town. Joshua probably hadn’t helped, what with stirring up trouble and getting into fights.

  She grasped the doorknob and opened the door. Enough worrying over what hadn’t happened and probably wouldn’t. Her saloon days were behind her, and she’d have a job before this day was out. Somehow she’d find a way to prove to her mother she was a woman to be proud of—and certainly fit for more than the life of a dancehall girl.

  Nevada slapped the mare on the hip. “There you go, girl. All done.” He swung the gate of the corral shut behind her and turned to face his boss.

  John Draper shifted his weight on the stool and leaned against a post. “So you’re on the run after shootin’ a man in Albuquerque. You wanted by the law?”

  “No. There was a witness who said he’d tell the marshal the other man drew first.”

  “That the first man you’ve had to kill?” John’s eyes penetrated deep into Nevada’s soul.

  Nevada’s gut clenched, and a light sweat broke out on his forehead. “Wish I could say he was, but I can’t.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t ask how many. Not my business. What a man is now is what matters to me, not what he’s done. Besides, you don’t appear to be a killer, or a man who hunts trouble.”

  “No, sir. I don’t like to think I am.” Nevada met John’s eyes squarely.

  “Ah-huh. So why you think trouble keeps huntin’ you, then?”

  “Wish I knew the answer to that.” Nevada bit back the words he’d almost let slip about the events of his past. No. John didn’t need to be burdened with things that couldn’t be changed. Nevada had buried that old life so deep he never wanted to resurrect it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christy departed the third boardinghouse and as many hotels, her steps dragging. She’d left home with such high hopes for success but had been met with discouragement at every turn. Most of the places had all the help they needed, but two had looked at her askance when she mentioned her name and politely turned her down. Ma was right—apparently their family didn’t command much respect in this town.

  She hurried across the boardwalk, head down and deep in thought. All of a sudden she came up against a person’s chest. A pair of strong hands grasped her upper arms and steadied her before she fell.

  “Whoa there. What’s the rush?” Gordon Townsley, the manager from the Oriental Saloon, retained his grip on her arms.

  Christy took a step back and tried to smile. “I apologize. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “Are you staying here?” He waved a hand at the sign hanging above the door.

  “No. Looking for a job.” Her heart sank. She wished she could drag the words back. This man didn’t need to know her business.

  “Hmm. I might have something available.” He raised his hand before she could speak. “Just listen. I’m not suggesting anything improper. You could run one of the gaming tables and no one would bother you. Doc Holiday or Wyatt would see to that.”

  “I’m sorry. No.” Christy started to turn away.

  Townsley stepped in front of her. He dropped his voice low and met her eyes. “You may not get a lot of job offers, Miss Grey. Your stepfather didn’t have the best reputation before he was run out of town, and neither does your brother.”

  “Run out?” Christy drew herself up and frowned. “You’re mistaken. He left to care for a mining claim.”

  “That what your mother or brother told you? He may have done so, but that’s not the only reason. He was caught cheating at cards more than once and got rough with one of the girls down at the Golden Eagle when he’d had too much to drink.” Townsley paused to tip his hat at a lady who passed. “The owner there doesn’t much care for men who rough up his girls, so they threw him out. Malone came back roaring mad and shot up the place. The marshal told him to leave town or get thrown in jail.” He glanced at the door of the boardinghouse. “Word travels in this town, and your brother didn’t fall far from the tree, even if he isn’t Logan’s blood.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really need to be going.” Christy picked up the hem of her skirt and stepped off the boardwalk.

  “Don’t wait to take me up on my offer, Miss Grey. I can’t promise how long I’ll have it available.”

  The soft words barely reached Christy’s ears, but they pursued her down the street like hounds. Why would that man consider offering her a job at his saloon? He had no way of knowing her background, and she certainly didn’t dress like a woman who’d work in one of those places. Her pace slowed. Joshua? Would he talk about her past? She hated to think it, but her little brother’s jaws flapped when they were better kept shut.

  Nevada stepped out of the livery and sauntered down the street, rubbing the ache out of his right arm. Too many months had passed since he’d swung a hammer for any length of time. His rumbling stomach reminded him he’d better find something to eat. Since Nellie only served breakfast and supper at the boardinghouse, he’d gotten use
d to stopping at one of the small restaurants along Allen Street for his noontime meal.

  A flash of dark auburn hair caught his eye as a woman wove through the men crowding the sidewalks. Most of the miners took their dinner into the mines in a pail and didn’t venture out until the end of their shift, but there were still plenty of people on the streets. He peered ahead and quickened his step, hoping to catch another glimpse of the woman. He’d seen plenty of blonds and brunettes in this town, and even a few gals with raven-black hair, but not an abundance of redheads. Excited anticipation tugged at his heart as Christy Grey’s face flashed through his mind.

  Half a dozen long strides brought him within sight of the young lady and his pulse quickened. Should he accost her on the street, or would she think him rude for doing so? Nevada had never followed through on his plan to stop at the house and inquire as to her brother’s condition. He plunged forward and fell in beside her. “Miss Grey?” He kept his voice low so as not to startle her.

  A rapid intake of breath indicated her surprise, but she slowed her pace and turned. “Yes?” Recognition flashed in her eyes and she halted. “Oh. It’s you.”

  Nevada’s stomach tightened at the apprehension in her voice. “Miss Grey, I’m not here to bother you. But I hoped you’d allow me to inquire after your brother’s health.”

  The firm set of her lips softened. “I see. Thank you for asking. The doctor thinks he’ll pull through. He’s talking some and able to eat soup and bread.”

  “That’s fine.” Nevada struggled to think of something else to prolong the meeting. “Are you and your mother getting along all right?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?” She tilted her head to the side.

  “I heard her coughing the day I was there. It didn’t sound good.”

  Christy nodded. “You’re right. Ma’s been ill, but I hope she’s improving.” Her voice quivered. “She’s getting more rest since I arrived.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He paused, then plunged forward. He’d held on to this question for as long as he could, and now it was time for an answer. “Why did you do it?”

  Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

  He touched her arm and drew her into the lee of a closed doorway, out of the press of streaming humanity. “Why didn’t you turn me in to the marshal?” He dropped his voice and allowed his eyes to scan the area, but no one seemed to pay them any attention. Men hurried by, and a woman scolding her fussing children disappeared into a nearby store. “I know you recognized me from the stage.”

  “Yes, I did, not long after you walked into our home carrying Joshua.” She shrugged. “I gave you my word, and I won’t break it.”

  “Even if it gets you in trouble?”

  “It won’t. The marshal questioned me, but I haven’t told him anything. Besides, you didn’t harm me or the other passengers, and you helped my brother. I’m sorry you felt the need to rob the stage, but I won’t go back on my promise.”

  Frustration swelled in his chest and Nevada clenched his hands. “I told you. I had nothing to do with the robbery. I fell in with those men the night before when I needed a place to bed down. That’s all. I didn’t want to start shooting for fear more people on the stage would be hurt, so I took the mask and slipped it on. Besides, I saw you were hurt and hoped to help.”

  Christy frowned. “I’d like to believe you after all you’ve done to help. But either way, your secret is safe.”

  Shame burned in Nevada’s mind that this woman would doubt his word and think him the type of man who’d rob others. Bad enough that he’d been forced to shoot men in self-defense, but thievery was something he’d never stoop to. “I hope someday I can prove you’re wrong.”

  “Someday? I assumed you’d be leaving Tombstone. In fact, I was rather astounded you decided to take a job with the blacksmith and stay.”

  Nevada gritted his teeth to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by to offer my assistance since your brother’s unfortunate accident.” He pushed the words through clenched teeth, then forced himself to relax. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  She seemed to waver, then slowly shook her head. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Something in her tone caused a flicker of doubt to ignite in his mind. “Please. With your mother ill and brother recuperating, I’m sure you’re busy. Might I bring you a barrel of water or any other supplies?”

  She reached for the cloth pouch dangling from her wrist. “A barrel of water would be wonderful, if you find you have time.”

  Nevada held up his hand and took a step back. “No need for pay. It’s the least I can do after the injury to your arm. By the way, has it fully healed?”

  She reached up and touched the spot above her elbow. “It’s fine now. Once the bleeding stopped and the flesh started mending, I only had to deal with the soreness.”

  Silence settled around the spot where they stood. Nevada wished he could find a way to delay the meeting, but nothing came to mind.

  Christy dipped her head. “I’d best be getting back home. I’ve been gone long enough, and Ma will worry.”

  “Do you have anything I can carry for you?” He looked askance at her empty arms, wondering what brought her to town.

  “No, thank you. I came hoping to find work.” She gave a small smile. “Maybe tomorrow. Good day.”

  Nevada squared his shoulders. “I’ll bring the water over straightaway.”

  “Please don’t rush. Finish whatever brought you to town.”

  He watched her walk down the boardwalk until she disappeared around the corner headed for Toughnut Street. His appetite had fled, and only one desire consumed his attention—finding out where water could be purchased, hiring a wagon, and taking it to Christy Grey’s home. Something in her determined tone when she mentioned getting a job tugged at his heart. She needed a champion, and considering all she’d been through since arriving in this town, he’d like to take on that role. He grinned as he headed the opposite direction. It might be a nice change from the part he’d played for the past few years. A nice change, indeed.

  Christy hurried past the open door of the last saloon she had to pass on Allen Street and averted her gaze. Four steps on up the walkway and two more to swing around the corner before she could draw a breath of relief. Time to get home. This day was wasted, and Ma probably needed her by now.

  Nevada presented a challenge to her thoughts that would keep her awake at night if she wasn’t careful. She’d never felt an attraction to any man since Ralph died, and if she were completely honest with herself, she’d agreed to marry Ralph only because of his love for her. Having someone of her own had been a draw, and Ralph was a decent man who always treated her with kindness, but she’d not been strongly attracted to him.

  But Nevada was different. The man had a rugged strength about him that drew her in spite of her attempts to hold herself aloof.

  Hard footsteps slapped the boardwalk behind her and a man’s deep voice called out, “Christy? That you?”

  Dread knotted her stomach and she halted, then slowly turned. She should have kept going. Nothing good would come of this meeting. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” With a lift of her chin she stared at the man, praying he’d decide he’d made a mistake and scurry back to the saloon.

  Instead, a broad grin split his whiskered face. “Sure you do. I’m Ben. I used to come see you dance down in Sacramento, and you always served me drinks.”

  Christy forced her voice to remain calm. “Sorry. You must have the wrong person.”

  “No, ma’am. I’d know your red hair and pretty face anywhere. You gonna be working at one of the joints here in town? Let me know, and I’ll spread the word to my friends.”

  “Pardon me, but I need to get home.”

  She spun around and hurried up the street, holding her head erect. Her insides roiled. It had been over five years since she’d worked in Sacramento—for that matter, in an
y saloon in the West. Who’d have believed she’d stumble across someone who’d recognize her in this booming mining town so far from California? She wouldn’t run from her past, but she’d be dad-blasted, as Alexia’s uncle Joe used to say, if she’d allow anyone in the present to force her back where she didn’t care to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Christy!” Ma’s voice smote Christy’s ears like the harsh clang of a dinner bell, making her cringe.

  “I’m in here.” She smoothed the blanket over Ma’s newly changed bed with satisfaction. The house might not be much to boast of, but at least this room shone with cleanliness. “Don’t get up. I’ll come out as soon as I check on Joshua.” But Christy couldn’t help but ache for her ma. She’d been feeling poorly again, and her cough had grown worse.

  Christy shoved the door open leading into Joshua’s room, the one she thought she’d be using before he was shot. She’d been sleeping on the sofa for the past five weeks, and her back paid for it daily in aches and pains. Her younger brother slept facing the door, and the lightweight sheet covering his torso didn’t show the usual evidence of fitful tossing. Relief and gratitude swelled in her heart that God had answered her prayers. She hadn’t been sure He would, with the way she’d always ignored Him, but Joshua being alive and not losing the use of his arm or his leg was nothing short of a miracle.

  Stepping around the corner into the living area Christy winced. During her growing-up years the house had been properly kept, but since Ma’s illness she’d relaxed her standards. Shoes lay where they’d been kicked in the middle of the room, a blanket had been tossed on the floor, and a dirty plate sat on a small table strewn with newspapers and a coffee cup. Ma’s dressing gown was stained where she’d apparently spilled some of the strong brew.