Christie And The Hellcat Part 10

Down the street a ways. Can't miss it. Tell Bradley he'll get his horses back, if I have to return 'em myself."

He tipped his hat. "Thanks, Deputy." He turned and made for the exit, the scantily clad wh.o.r.es parting ahead of him like the Red Sea.

After an indecisive moment, Fred followed.

As the chatter, which had been subdued while strangers were present, resumed its normal volume, Zee headed for the back room and her boots. Had that game of strip poker taken place only an hour ago?

She sighed and wondered what in tarnation she was going to say to a certain frustrated blonde.

GIF.

Christie leaned further out of the window and shaded her eyes. It was just possible, if she stood on tiptoe, to see the jail from here. A black horse, saddled and ready to go, was tethered to the hitching rail in front, but there was no sign yet of Zee.

When Zee had returned to her room and told Christie she was called away on sheriff's business, Christie had tried to hide her disappointment. Not very successfully. The feelings Zee's touch evoked in her were . . . well, overwhelming was the only word for it. She blushed at the memory and at how much she already craved more of the same.

Zee, who now had her boots on, she'd noticed, had grabbed her shabby Stetson, given Christie a bruising kiss, told her to take care, and left . . . only to return a moment later, hat in hands, an apologetic look on her face.

"Been taking it for granted you'll be here when I get back." Her tone was full of self-reproach. "Guess I should have asked you." She fiddled with her hat.

Christie opened her mouth to speak but Zee continued.

"I'll understand if you don't want to hang around. There won't be

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a train to Contention until the track's cleared, though, and the next stage don't leave till tomorrow afternoon. You can stay at the hotel overnight"

She pressed two fingers to Zee's lips. "Of course I'll stay here and wait for you."

Those remarkable eyes pinned her. "Sure?"

Christie gave a half laugh, half sob. "I'm not sure of much of anything anymore. But I know I want to be with you." Needing to touch Zee, Christie reached up and reordered a strand of cropped black hair.

Zee gave her a brilliant smile and took the hand in her own. "Me too, darlin'." She kissed Christie's knuckles. Then her smile turned crooked. "Come to think of it, it might be better if you did stay at the hotel in any case. This room can get kinda noisy, if you know what I mean."

Christie didn't, but she had no intention of telling Zee that. "I'll stay here," she repeated.

Which had earned her a kiss that made her head spin, then Zee reluctantly released her and vanished out the door once more.

She sighed. There hadn't been much time for Zee to tell her what was going on. There had been a robbery, that much she knew. Fred's train, no less! He would be furious, and probably taking the theft of his father's silver shipment personally. Her fiance always took things personally.

Christie craned her head toward the jail again, just in time to see two riders rein in outside it. One of the men, in a white shirt and check trousers, seemed vaguely familiar, but his hat obscured his face so she couldn't be sure. Then Zee bounded down the jail steps, her vest almost hidden under ammunition belts, clutching a shotgun and a rifle, which she shoved into saddle holsters. She mounted her horse and headed out. The two men fell in behind her.

As the riders approached Angie's Palace, the wh.o.r.es on the balcony below Zee's room began hooting and cheering. Christie hoped Zee would look up and see her, but just then a small boy on the other side of the street yelled at the deputy, who removed her hat and waved it at him, and the moment was lost. The smallest of the three riders, however, looked up at the wh.o.r.es then straight at Christie. She gaped at the familiar face with its neatly trimmed beard and mustache.

Oh, my Lord!

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Hands pressed to suddenly hot cheeks, heart hammering, she reeled back from the window. Did Fred see me? He must have done.

Does he know this is a brothel? He'd have to be blind not to. Suppose he comes in and drags me back to Contention with him? Suppose he hurts Zee?

Her thoughts in a whirlseeing her fiance had turned romantic fantasy into stark realityshe sat on the bed, deep in thought.

When she came back to her surroundings, the shadows had shifted.

It was the noise that brought her back, a strange rhythmic creaking coming from the room on the right. Boing . . . Creak . . . Boing . . .

Creak . . . She frowned. It sounded rather like . . . bedsprings.

"Oh . . . Ah."

The moaning brought Christie to her feet. Someone was in pain.

She must fetch help. She was halfway to the door when she registered that it wasn't one voice she was hearing but two, a man and woman's.

How could they both be in pain, unless it wasn't pain of course, unless . . . Oh! Her cheeks warmed.

The noises were coming faster now and louder. Christie paced up and down, clapping her hands to her ears, trying to block out the moans and tw.a.n.ging, and failing.

Zee's words came back to her then. "This room can get kinda noisy, if you know what I mean." I do now. Maybe I should have stayed at the hotel after all.

But Christie had made her bed, now she must lie on it (she winced at the unfortunate aptness of the saying). She had told Zee she would wait for her, and she would. But not here, not listening to this.

Abruptly, the voices cried out and all sound ceased. She blinked and sat back down on the narrow bed. Perhaps it would be quiet now.

Perhaps she could stay here and Boing . . . Creak . . . "Ah . . . Oh." This time the noises were coming from the room on the left.

Suppressing a scream, Christie stood, straightened her dress, and made for the door.

Chapter 13.

Zee guided her mare along the railroad track, keeping its pace to a steady trot. Her companions had wanted to gallop. She explained that getting to the stranded train was only the first hurdle; who knew how far she'd have to travel on after that?

For most of the trip from Benson, Fred had been unnaturally quiet.

He was acting like a man who'd been hit over the head. Losing his silver had rocked him, she supposed. Conversation wasn't lacking though. Comstock liked the sound of his own voice, and it was no skin off her nose so she let him talk.

The jug-eared man was from 'Frisco, it emergedan architect specializing in the Mediterranean style that was all the rage. He was relating anecdotes about some of his more colorful clients when Fred suddenly spoke.

"What was she doing in that place?"

Comstock fell silent, and a startled Zee turned in her saddle and looked at Fred. "She?" I didn't think he knew.

"My fiancee, Miss Christie Hayes. What was she doing in that . . . that den of iniquity?" His gaze became accusing. "Was she there with you?"

For a moment, she was tempted to get it all out in the open, to tell him Christie had chosen her over him. Once she did, though, Christie's break with Fred would be irreversible; Christie herself must make that decision.

Instead, she said evenly, "A gentleman wouldn't ask such a question. And I won't answer it."

"How would someone like you know what a gentleman would or wouldn't do?" A vein throbbed in Fred's forehead. "By G.o.d, if you've touched her, I'll" Anger made him speechless, for which Zee was grateful.

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She turned to face the front again, and almost instantly spotted the top of the water tank in the distance. Kicking her mare into a canter, she left the two men behind.

By the time they caught up with her, she had dismounted, tethered her horse to a door handle, and boarded the first railcar. The stranded pa.s.sengers greeted her arrival with cries of joy and relief that soon turned to complaints and grievances.

"I was supposed to meet my mother in Tucson," said a man with muttonchop whiskers and a fancy waistcoat. "I'm going to be hours late."

"At least you'll be alive." She eased past him and headed for the far end of the car where a groggy figure in a railroad uniform, a b.l.o.o.d.y bandage round his head, sat huddled on a bench.

She stopped beside him and squatted. "You the engineer?"

He nodded weakly.

"How are you feeling?"

He eyed the tin star pinned to her vest. "Lousy headache, Deputy, but I can still drive a train, if that's what you're asking."

"It is. Feel up to a little horse ride?"

He groaned. "Do I have a choice?"

She considered. "Yeah, you do."

He sighed. "I'll come. Just don't let the sons-of-b.i.t.c.hes who did this," he indicated his bandaged head, "near me again."

"I won't." She helped him to his feet, then steadied him until the color returned to his cheeks. "My name's Brodie."

"Olmsted."

She patted him on the shoulder then turned to address the pa.s.sengers, who had gathered and were watching her, murmuring.

"Now listen up. Mr. Olmsted here is coming with me. He'll be driving your locomotive back and once it's reconnected, the train will be able to continue its journey to Tucson and points west. You'll be late some," she shot muttonchop whiskers a pointed glance, "but you'll get there."

A cheer greeted this announcement.

"What about my silver?" It was Fred, of course, who thankfully seemed to have regained control of his temper.

"And what about my government bonds?" asked a stout businessman in a top hat, stiff collar, and flat ascot tie.

"They're next on my list," she said.

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She helped Olmsted step down from the train and mount the horse Comstock had ridden. Then she mounted her mare, and turned to reach for the reins of the gelding Fred had ridden . . . only to find the man himself climbing into the saddle once more.

She blinked. "Why don't you stay with the other pa.s.sengers and let me do my job, Mr. Younger?"

"And let the h.e.l.lcat get her hands on my silver?" He curled his lip. "I don't think so."

Zee ground her teeth and wondered what in tarnation Christie had ever seen in Fred. If she refused, the d.a.m.ned fool was so obsessed with his silver, he'd find a way to follow the train robbers anyway.

Probably get himself killed into the bargain . . . which would certainly solve the prior engagement problem. For a moment she was tempted, then her conscience got the better of her. At least with her around to protect him, he stood a chance.

"C'mon then, if you're coming." She kneed her horse into a trot, and the other two riders fell in alongside her.

They hadn't traveled far along the railroad track when Olmsted's curiosity got the better of him. "You're the h.e.l.lcat?"

"Was," she told him. "The governor granted me a full pardon.

Want to see it?" The precious piece of paper went everywhere with her and was in her shirt pocket.

He studied her for a moment, then smiled and shook his head.

"Guess I trust you, Deputy."