She glanced over her shoulder, certain that she sensed someone following. No one. Maybe this wasn’t such a wise idea, walking alone at night. She hesitated, took a few more steps, and turned again. Still nothing. You’re being foolish, girl. It was only a short distance to the trees and down the slight grade to the meadow, where the moonlight shone bright and strong. She’d feel safer there, not so closed in and trapped.
“Goin’ somewhere, missy?” A rough hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around, and another clamped over her mouth.
A second voice hissed into her ear. “Sure seems a shame to rough up such a pretty face, don’t it, Mouse?”
“Shut up!” the voice belonging to the rough hand snarled. “No names, remember?”
The second man wheezed a laugh. “Don’t matter. She won’t be fit to tell no one when we finish.”
Christy broke from her stupor. Standing here would bring her one thing—death. Sanders was behind this attack. She jerked the arm held in the filthy grasp of her attacker and swung her other fist backward, hoping to hit his face. At the same time her booted heel came down hard on his instep. A hard twist of her body, and she felt his grip loosen. Just another wrench and she’d be free.
The one called Mouse growled an oath and pawed at her arms as they slipped from his grasp. “Cain, grab her! She’s gettin’ away.”
Cain leaped toward her just as she gained her freedom and started to run. His fingers tangled in her hair and he yanked. Christy yelped in pain. Her head flew back, and she felt strands of hair loosening from her scalp.
Cain’s panting voice sounded next to her ear. “What now, boss? Want me to club her?”
“No, you id’jit. We’re too close to town, and someone might hear. Come on, keep yer hand over her mouth—we’ll drag her out of this clearing. We’ll be dead our own selves if’n we mess this job up for the boss.”
Christy fought down the panic rising in her throat and threatening to spew out beneath this foul man’s fingers. She couldn’t give way to fear. Now that she’d run and they’d caught her, maybe they wouldn’t expect another attempt. Whatever she did, it had to be fast. They’d soon penetrate the deep gloom of a grove of mesquite a hundred feet away. She opened her lips beneath the man’s hand and almost gagged from its taste and the smell. But it was no time for squeamishness. She drew back her lips and bit down hard on the fleshy part of his hand. Something wet and salty touched her tongue before the hand jerked away. Blood.
“She bit me!” The man yowled and dropped his hand.
Christy lunged forward, heading back toward town. If she screamed, would anyone hear? And if they did, would they care? Or would she just be another dance hall girl getting what she deserved? She’d better save her breath and try to outrun the mongrels.
Panting sounded behind her, and footfalls crashed through the low-lying mesquite brush. She hazarded a peek over her shoulder and saw shadowy figures drawing closer. Blast this dress. She hiked it up to her knees and stretched out her legs, determined to outdistance the pair.
She turned her gaze back toward town one moment too late. A large tree loomed directly in front of her, and she couldn’t dart around it. She felt her shoulder strike the stub of a broken branch, ripping a gash into her flesh. She stumbled and almost fell but caught herself and fought to continue.
The sound of wheezing came close. “I’m gonna kill you now. Would’a just beat you before, but you bit me. Drawed blood, too.”
Bile rose up in Christy’s throat. Her breathing came in ragged gasps and she opened her mouth to scream.
A hairy arm clamped around her throat and jerked her from her feet. “No, you don’t, missy. Not a peep out of you.” He threw her to the ground and knelt over her. “Not one peep or I’ll make this long and painful, you hear me?”
She whimpered and managed to nod.
“Get up.” He grabbed her wrist and jerked her to her feet. “We’re takin’ you away from town so the good people of Last Chance can’t hear you scream.” His evil laugh smote her ears just before welcome blackness enveloped her mind.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Alex trotted her horse into town. No particular need pressed her today other than a need to escape the ranch and all the people who’d deceived her over the past few weeks. She’d decided not to share Papa’s letter with Martha or Uncle Joe. They’d only try to assuage her anger.
But the last person she wanted to see was Justin. She’d asked Uncle Joe to send him, Frank, and Davis to Foresthill with the small group of geldings she’d sold. The men would be gone the entire day and possibly overnight—a good thing for her peace of mind—and probably safer for Justin than running into her sharp tongue.
She pushed open the door of Cramer’s Dry Goods Store. The bell tinkled, but no one waited at the front. Strange. Elizabeth wouldn’t leave the store unattended unless something happened, but why not turn the sign and lock the door?
“Elizabeth?” Alex walked across the wooden floor and peeked behind the high counter flanking the front. No one stood behind it tending the multiple drawers of goods for sale. She peered down the nearest aisle of leather goods, skirted around a table stacked with yardage, and stopped at the last row brimming with farm implements and kitchen utensils. “Elizabeth, Mr. Cramer? Anyone here?”
At the sound of the bell tinkling on the door, Alex whirled around and hurried back to the register. She found her friend standing just inside the door, leaning against it, with her eyes closed.
Alex stopped and bit her lip. “Elizabeth? Are you all right?”
Elizabeth’s eyes flew open and her hand rose to her heart. “Alex! Oh, my. I didn’t realize anyone was here. I guess I forgot to lock the door.”
Alex walked over and touched her arm. “Something’s wrong. What is it? Has your uncle worsened?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Come sit at the counter and I’ll tell you about it.” A small shudder shook her slender frame. “But I’d rather not be interrupted.” She walked quickly to the door, flipped the sign and the lock, and came back to sit at the counter.
Alex leaned her elbows on the hardwood surface and stared at Elizabeth. “What’s going on? Why all the mystery?”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath and released it through parted lips. “You remember Christy Grey—the girl who came in that day asking about your new hired man?”
Alex winced and nodded. “I remember.” She’d planned on talking to Elizabeth about her today. “Has something happened?”
“Yes, and it’s not good. Ralph took two horses from the livery down to that spring in the meadow early this morning, and he heard someone groaning from somewhere in the brush. He looked around and found Christy dumped in a tangle of mesquite.”
“Dumped? What exactly do you mean?”
“He found her body”—she shuddered—“covered in blood, her clothes all torn. No way did she walk there or fall. Someone had to have dumped her.”
Alex’s hand flew to her throat, and she felt the blood drain from her face. “Her body. Is she—dead?”
Elizabeth clutched Alex’s other hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put it that way. No. She’s alive. Ralph carried her to the doctor’s office. She’s hanging on, but not by much. It appears she’s been beaten. Doc thinks she has broken ribs and some damage to her insides. There’s some bad bruising in her middle, like she got kicked, and she’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Does the sheriff know who did it?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No idea. She’s not conscious. It could’ve been someone at the saloon. Talk has it she doesn’t give away favors the way some of the miners would like.”
Alex leaned against the low back of the stool. “I can’t believe it. Why would anyone hurt her, even if she didn’t—you know?”
Elizabeth shrugged and slipped off the stool. “No idea, but I hope they catch whoever it is and string him up. No one should treat a woman that way.” She headed to the door. “I’d best open.” She flipped
the sign and unlocked the door.
“What’s going to happen to her?” Alex asked.
Elizabeth turned, her eyebrows scrunched down over her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“To Christy? Who’ll care for her while she recovers? I can’t see the saloon owner doing it, and Doc only has one bed. He can’t keep her forever. She’ll have to stay somewhere till she’s better.”
Elizabeth walked closer to the counter and peered into Alex’s eyes. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking…you’d better stop.”
“What?” Alex slid down from her stool. Her feet hit the floor with a soft thump.
“That you want to take her home. She’s not a lost puppy or a hurt horse. She’s a dance hall girl who’s been beat up, probably by a disgruntled customer.”
Alex crossed her arms and tipped her head. “I didn’t say I was going to take her home, but if I were, why would that be so terrible?”
“Because…because…” Elizabeth sputtered then drew a breath. “We’re supposed to love people, even in their sin. But I don’t think the Lord expects us to take the sinners into our homes.”
“He entered their homes, sat with tax collectors and prostitutes. It’s not like I’m worried about my reputation. Mind you, I’m not saying I’m going to ask her, but if I did, would you be angry?”
Elizabeth groaned and rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly. I just don’t think it’s your place to provide for her.”
“Then whose place is it?” Alex tapped her foot and narrowed her eyes.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, I don’t know.” Elizabeth planted her hands on her hips. “I doubt Martha or Joe would agree, regardless.”
Alex’s body stilled and she lifted her head. “It’s my house. Not that I wouldn’t care what they thought. But honestly, Elizabeth, you’re making it sound—I don’t know—like she’s some type of criminal who doesn’t deserve help. As Christians, aren’t we supposed to go the extra mile when others won’t?”
Elizabeth’s head tipped forward and she stared at the floor. “Yes. You’re right, of course.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Alex wrapped her arms around her friend and drew her into a warm hug. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re looking out for my best, and I appreciate you. I do feel sorry for her. Even if she is trying to take Toby away from Justin.”
“What?” Elizabeth pulled back from Alex’s arm encircling her shoulder. “Explain.”
Alex spent the next few minutes filling Elizabeth in on recent events, from Christy’s arrival to the finding of her father’s letter.
Elizabeth leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “Whew. It’s a good thing the store isn’t busy right now. I think I’d have shooed out anyone who dared to come in while you told that story. I can’t believe she had the gall to ride out and demand that Justin turn over his son.”
“She claims Justin wasn’t married to her sister and that he abandoned them before Toby was born. As Molly’s sister, she thinks she has a stronger claim to the boy.”
Elizabeth huffed and pursed her lips. “You can’t even consider having that woman on your place. Justin would have a fit, and I wouldn’t blame him.”
“It’s not his call. Besides, how better to keep an eye on someone than to have them living under your roof?”
“But aren’t Justin and Toby staying in your house? Wouldn’t that be…awkward?”
“I agree, it could be. But like I said, I’ve not made any decision. You’re the one who brought it up, not me. Maybe you should be the one to keep her.” Alex hid a smile and turned a serious gaze on Elizabeth.
“I–I—” Elizabeth stumbled then fell silent.
Alex laughed and patted her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry. Your uncle wouldn’t allow it, and I was teasing. Tell you what—you’re always telling me I need to trust God and pray about things more. What if we both pray about Christy? I’m not thrilled with what she pulled on Justin, but I don’t think God wants us to ignore someone in need, either.”
“I agree, and I’ll pray.” Elizabeth sighed. “I wish I were as nice a person as you.”
Alex hooted then clapped her hand over her mouth. “That’s funny. You’re one of the nicest people I know.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “But it never would’ve occurred to me to offer Christy a place to stay, and I’m ashamed to admit that it’s due to her livelihood. I’m just as guilty of judging her as some of the other women in town are.”
“No, you’re not. You may have let the thought slip through your mind, but you didn’t let it take root—that’s the difference. You were quick to see the error of your thinking and repent. Now if I can just do the same thing with the issues I’m struggling with. I’m having a hard time forgiving Papa for keeping so many secrets and understanding why God allowed all this.”
Elizabeth nodded. “None of us is perfect. We often have to choose to trust God. When hard things come, it’s our nature to want to fight or flee—or blame someone—but in the end I think you’ll see God’s hand in it all.”
“I hope so. I’m heading to the doctor’s office to see what he has to say.” She held up her hand when Elizabeth opened her mouth. “Don’t say another word. I’m going to see how Christy’s doing, nothing more. At least not yet.” She smiled and winked then headed to the door. “I’ll stop by before I leave town.” She turned the knob and then swung back around. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”
“For what?” A quizzical smile lit the attractive brunette’s face.
“For being my friend.”
Alex hurried across the street, lifting her skirt a few inches. She didn’t care if anyone saw her ankles or not. The need to discover if Christy Grey would live accelerated her pace.
What drew her? Why did she care, after all Christy had done, whether someone tended the woman or not? She’d like to believe that Christ’s love shone through her, but she knew that wasn’t the entire reason for her concern. Alex had felt an affinity with the woman the first time she’d met her. The longing for acceptance had burned in Christy’s eyes, but she’d quickly cloaked it behind a shell of indifference.
How many times had Alex felt the same desire—been driven by the same need? Did she care what mean-spirited people thought about her? No, she did not. But being misunderstood by a handful of women who’d never taken the time to know her still stung.
Christy’s lot in life must’ve been so much worse, considering her occupation. Had she ever longed for a different life or tried to break free and change? What drew her to live a way that brought such shame?
Alex could well imagine the life she might have had if Papa had died without providing for her future. So few options existed for women left alone and penniless. Some could fall back on sewing, teaching, or taking in laundry, but what if their skills were lacking or there was no work to be had? Alex knew that dance hall girls and other women of ill repute didn’t always choose their line of work. Only by God’s grace and care had she been spared such a life.
Alex shook her head. It wasn’t her place to seek out the answers, but she couldn’t abandon someone with a wounded spirit and broken body. She stepped up on the porch of the wood-slatted building and glanced at the sign. Doctor Is In hung by the doorpost. She rapped and nudged open the door then slipped inside. “Doc? You here?”
A muffled voice answered from behind the curtain that hung over the doorway to the back room. “Just a moment.”
A few minutes later Doc Stevens pulled open the dark green curtain and stepped through then yanked it closed again. “Miss Travers, what brings you in today? Not feeling well?”
“No, sir, I’m fine.” Alex wondered if the poor man had slept lately. His broadcloth trousers and white shirt were rumpled and covered with dust. Fine lines branched out from the corner of his blue-gray eyes, and his mouth had a tired, pinched look.
The wiry man pushed his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose and peered over them. “Martha doing all
right, and your uncle Joe?”
Alex nodded and glanced toward the closed curtain. “Yes, sir. But I’m here because Elizabeth told me that Ralph brought Christy Grey in early this morning, hurt pretty bad.”
“So he did.” Doc nodded and a lock of light brown hair fell onto his forehead. He lifted his hand and pushed it back with a grunt. “Tarnation. Haven’t so much as had time for a haircut in weeks.”
“Is she hurt bad?”
“Huh?” He peered at her and then followed her gaze. “Oh, you mean Miss Grey? Yes, afraid so.”
Alex kept a rein on her impatience. Why couldn’t the man offer some details with his answers? She looked past the thick lenses in his eyeglasses and noted the red-rimmed eyes. “You been up all night, Doc?”
He ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair and sank into the chair behind his battered table. “That I have.” He drew a deep breath and sighed. “Just a mite tired, I’m afraid. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I’m concerned about Miss Grey. Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?”
Doc Stevens drummed his fingers against the table and frowned. “You a friend of the woman?”
Alex sat up straight and nodded. “Yes, sir. She came out to the ranch to visit a few days ago.” She hoped the good Lord would excuse the slight shading of the truth. She had invited Christy to the ranch and she had come, hadn’t she?
He nodded, his eyes not quite focusing on her face. “I see, I see. Well, now.” He paused and stared out the window and his head began to droop.
“Doc?”
His head snapped up and his mouth parted. “Yes? What’s that?” He blinked his eyes at Alex and frowned. “Oh, Alexia…I apologize. Miss Grey.” A nervous twitch started in the corner of his left eye and he rubbed at it with the palm of his hand. “She’s been badly beaten. Possible damage to her organs. No idea about internal bleeding yet. Fever. Broken ribs. Lots of bruising. Stitched a deep cut on her shoulder. I think she escaped without serious injury to her head, but I won’t know till she wakes up. I think that about covers it.”
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 20
