Christie And The Hellcat Part 16

"Good luck." She clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"You too." He disappeared toward the arched doorway.

She found her own Colts, checked they were still loaded, and put them in her holsters. Fred had remained still as a statue throughout.

"Stay here," she ordered, then glided toward the chapel and John Cody.

The bearlike gang leader was not only wide-awake but holding a gun to the terrified Josie's temple.

d.a.m.n!

"I was expecting you." His finger was resting lightly on the trigger.

Too lightly. She drew her Colts and fired in one movement. Her 100 first shot hit the barrel of his gun, knocking it aside; her next took him between the eyes. He gazed at her in shocked surprise, then fell backwards.

Josie collapsed to the mattress in a sobbing heap and Zee spared a moment to check she was unharmed and give her a rea.s.suring pat.

Then something spooked her and she turned. A tall buckskinned figure stood in the doorway. He gave a snarl of anger.

She threw herself to one side. As the bullet smashed through the s.p.a.ce she had just occupied, she was already coming back to her feet.

Her bullet took Tucson Pete high in the chest and spun him round.

Even as he fell, he was coughing up blood, and she knew his wound was fatal. She leaped over his thrashing body and headed back to the main part of the church, knowing the gunshots would have alerted the rest of the gang.

Something moved. She ducked back as a bullet ricocheted off the wall next to her. Spence Cody. A rifle. Two paces to the left.

She took a quick breath, then dove forward, rolling and getting off a quick shot at the fat man silhouetted against the fire's embers. He cried out in pain, clutched at his thigh, and fell over. Then she was on him, kicking the dropped rifle out of reach, grabbing his still holstered six-gun, and bashing him on the head with its b.u.t.t.

How many more are there?

As she ran toward the corral, she came across two bodies and turned them over with the toe of her boot. George and Happy had had their throats cut; Hogan's work. She moved on. The next body she came to belonged to Frank Cody. Her knife was sticking out of his chest. She pulled it out, wiped the blade clean on his shirt, and returned it to her boot. Then she sighed at the carnage. These killers had deserved what they got, but she didn't have to like it.

Hogan appeared. "Get 'em all?"

"Mostly. Lola's still missing. What about you?"

"One of the lookouts out front got away."

"d.a.m.n! I hope he hasn't got her."

But when they found the remaining manwho turned out to be Walter, at seventeen, the youngest of the Cody brothershe wasn't threatening Lola but rather cowering behind her skirts. Much to Zee's relief, the boy gave himself up without a fight.

"That the lot?" asked Hogan.

"Reckon so."

Chapter 20.

Christie was in the middle of her morning ablutions when a knock came at the door.

"They're back," came Rowdy Molly's voice. "Angie sent me to tell you Brodie's back."

Christie put down her washcloth and wrapped a towel round herself. She opened the door and looked at the grinning wh.o.r.e.

"Brodie and Hogan just rode in. With a wagonload of loot," Molly ticked off the points on her fingers, "and six prisoners. And seven bodies, face down over their own saddles. Oh, and two women."

"Is Zee all right?"

"Right as rain." Molly gave her a hug then laughed. "Only she could ride out into the middle of nowhere and come back with two gals on her arm."

Christie frowned.

"It's not like that, silly. They were the gang's wh.o.r.es." Molly sighed. "Looks like they had a rough time of it too. Zee's asked Angie if they can work here for a spell."

Christie didn't know whether to rush over to the jail or wait here.

But after the doubts of last night, she needed to see Zee. And for all Molly's rea.s.surances, only Zee's physical presence would convince her that she was safe and sound.

"I'll finish getting dressed and come down."

Molly nodded and left her to it.

Such was her hurry, Christie left off her corsetlacing it would take too long. She shrugged into her petticoats, pulled on her one and only dress, now sadly wrinkled, and b.u.t.toned it, slipped her feet into her shoes, and with a despairing glance at her reflectionher hair looked a messdashed down the corridor toward the stairs. She was 102 crossing the salon toward the entrance when the doors slammed open and a familiar figure stood there.

Christie flung herself at Zee, who grinned and grabbed her and swung her round like a child. Then she was crushed in a welcome embrace that was anything but motherly.

She lost herself in the warm lips pressed against hers, relishing the sensation of affection, strength, and unrestrained s.e.xuality . . . things she had never known she craved until this singular woman came crashing into her life without so much as a by your leave. As she returned the kiss with equal fervor, her doubts vanished like early morning mist, and she knew this was where she belonged, no matter where it led.

A need to breathe made them part at last, and they became aware of the gazes fixed on themsome mischievous, some admiring, some (in the case of Red Mary) envious.

A man's voice broke the mood. "Unnatural creatures!"

Christie flushed and turned. She had never seen Fred in such a state. He looked as though he had just been dragged for several miles behind Zee's horse. And as for that ugly scowl . . . How could she ever have thought him handsome?

"Your opinion ain't wanted, and neither are you, Younger." Zee snaked a protective arm round Christie's shoulder. "So if I were you, I'd vamoose and take care of that silver of yours."

He ignored her and addressed Christie. "Ever since that . . . that murdering harpy came on the scene, she's caused nothing but trouble.

As for you," the venom in his gaze made Christie suck in her breath, "you disgust me. Thank G.o.d I found out your true nature before it was too late. You are not fit to be my wife, and I never want to see you again."

The arm around her tightened.

"Call me what you like, Younger," came Zee's deceptively relaxed drawl. "But have a care how you speak to my lady. She's got more s.p.u.n.k than you'll ever have. Your yellow streak d.a.m.n near got us all killed today."

My lady. At the words a warm glow spread through Christie, ban-ishing the fear Fred's presence had brought.

He flushed with rage. "If you were a man, I'd call you out."

Zee's grin was mirthless. "And if you were a man, I'd accept."

His indrawn breath echoed round the suddenly silent salon, and 103.

his face paled. Christie knew, with deadly certainty, that if she didn't intervene, her lover would kill her ex-fiance . . . and all because of her.

"Go home, Fred," she urged. "She's faster than you and you know it. Go home before it's too late. There's nothing for you here."

Her words seemed to break him out of his trance. With a last attempt at dignity, he drew himself up to his full height (which since he was only a couple of inches taller than Christie was less than impressive), turned on his heel and left.

The entrance doors slamming was the signal for jeers and cheers.

Then the player piano started up and the normal salon hubbub resumed.

Christie, who had almost collapsed in sheer relief at Fred's departure, felt Zee pulling her close, and pressed into her like a kitten seeking warmth.

"You all right, darlin'?"

"I think so." She gave a half-laugh half-sob.

"Sorry you had to go through that."

"Me too. But the silver lining is: he broke off our engagement, which means he has no grounds for breach of promise." Christie gazed up into Zee's face and drew her fingertip down one tanned cheek. "I'm free."

"I'm glad." Zee took her hand and kissed each knuckle in turn.

Catcalls greeted their antics.

"Leave 'em be, girls," came Madam Angie's voice above the din.

"They've got some loving to catch up on, but they're going to take it up to the deputy's room." She turned a pointed gaze on Zee. "Aren't you?"

Zee laughed. "If you insist." She swept Christie up into strong arms and headed for the staircase, which she took two steps at a time.

Christie relaxed in the secure grip and enjoyed the ride. "You know," she said, after a few minutes, "you smell." She sniffed.

"Yeah?" Zee was carrying her along the corridor now. "Good smell or bad?" She shouldered open the door to her box room.

Christie considered the mixture of sweat, horses, wood smoke, and, rather oddly, coal dust, and the enticing, musky scent that she was beginning to learn was Zee herself. "Good."

"We could wait until after I've taken a nice, long bath." The suggestion clearly wasn't serious, and Christie humphed playfully.

With a groan of relief and muttered aside about "heavy blondes"

104.

that Christie would make her pay for later, Zee deposited her on the narrow bed, which gave a boing of protest.

Zee threw her Stetson onto the dresser, kicked off her boots, and began unbuckling her gun belt. Christie watched, her mouth going dry with antic.i.p.ation, then realized she should be getting undressed too.

She unfastened her shoes and kicked them off, hearing a distant clatter. She had just begun to unb.u.t.ton her dress when Zee, her undershirt and red flannel drawers revealing long tanned limbs, landed on the bed beside her, eliciting another boing from the bedsprings.

"Hands off," ordered Zee, "that's my job." And a few b.u.t.tons later, "Mm. No corset."

"I didn't have time this morn" Christie almost fainted as cal-lused hands caressed her.

"Just the way I like 'em." Zee's mouth took over from her fingers while they dealt with the remaining b.u.t.tons.

"Oh!" Christie gasped. "You know, Zee," she managed, as the delicious sucking sensation threatened to overwhelm her, "the girls told me quite a lot about you while you were gone. Uh!"

"Yeah?"

The last obstinate b.u.t.ton came free and Christie's dress was lifted over her head. The air was suddenly cool on her skin, but the fire inside her was like a furnace.

"Yes . . . Oh! I found out why they don't charge you for their services." She couldn't help but writhe in pleasure as Zee applied her tongue to every inch of bare skin she could find.

"Mm?" Zee turned her attention to the rainbow-colored petticoats that were Christie's secret rebellion against conformity. They joined Christie's shoes in the corner of the room, and moments later, her drawers followed them. Then a warm hand found its way to the secret places Christie had allowed no one else to visit before.

She bucked as practiced fingers stroked her intimately. "Yes," she said, but if it was in answer to a question, or indeed what the question was, she could no longer say.

"You sure, darlin'?"

"Mmm."

And a little (and increasingly noisy) while later, Christie found to her delight that Zee's reputation was indeed well deserved, and her record as yet unbroken.

PART TWO.

Stage to Phoenix.

Chapter 1.