Christie And The Hellcat Part 19

"Don't be silly!" Christie reached for him, but once more he resisted, though every movement added more beads of sweat to his brow.

Zee grew tired of this. If he kept moving his arm around, the fracture would need resetting.

"Now listen and listen good." She pinned him with her glare.

"Stay still, shut up, and let my friend help you . . . or I'll break your other arm."

After that, he was meekness itself, and not only allowed Christie to wrap the corset around his right arm but thanked her profusely.

Only trouble was, it wouldn't stay put.

Christie snapped her fingers. "Your bandanna, please, Zee."

"Good thinking." Zee untied the red neckerchief and handed it over.

As Christie clearly had Bonney and his injury under control, Zee straightened and went to join Dusty who was examining the toppled stage.

125.

"At least the wheel's still in one piece," he said. "Seasoned white oak. Strong as iron."

Zee pursed her lips. "We could do with some kind of lever."

"Yeah. Ain't got one though." He turned and surveyed the male pa.s.sengers. "And they don't look up to the task."

Zee followed his gaze to the injured banker, gaunt preacher, short Englishman, and over-zealous army officer. "We'll manage," she said. "Hook up the team and I'll organize the manpower."

By the time Zee had marshaled all the able-bodied pa.s.sengers (including the womenshe rebuffed all squawks of objection and outrage with the quiet question: "Do you want to walk to Phoenix?") Dusty had strung a line round the coach and attached the team to it.

"Ready?" he called.

Zee nodded.

"Hi." He cracked his whip above the horses' heads, and they strained forward. As instructed, the pa.s.sengers hooked their fingers under the edge of the coach and pulled, or got their shoulders under it and pushed. Twice they tried, and each time it lifted very slightly, then fell back to its original position.

"All right. Let's take a break," called Zee. She stood back and flexed shoulders that a moment ago had felt as if they were being pulled out of their sockets. The other pa.s.sengers followed her example while Dusty instructed the horses to rest.

"What was that you said about walking to Phoenix?" asked a dispirited Christie, examining sc.r.a.ped hands.

"Don't worry, darlin'. One more try ought to do it." Privately, Zee wasn't so sure.

She let everyone catch their breath, then resumed her position.

Reluctantly, the others did the same. "Right," she yelled. "This time, put your backs into it." She signaled to the waiting Dusty. "Now."

He cracked his whip and shouted, "Hi, Blaze. Hi, Mustard," and, with a jangling of harnesses and creak of leather, the horses began to pull.

Zee heaved with all her might, and beside her Christie did the same. With a reluctant groan and creak of tortured wood, the coach began to lift . . . one inch, two inches, three . . .

"That's it," panted Zee. "Keep going."

Already the stage was higher off the ground than it had been on the previous attempts. Dusty cracked his whip again, and the horses 126 surged forward, putting their full strength into it.

"Give it everything you've got." Zee's arms were aching from the strain, but then came a lurch, and suddenly, miraculously, the back-breaking weight on them was gone.

A loud cheer went up as the stage rolled upright and settled onto its wheels with a satisfying crunch. It was still bouncing on its thoroughbraces when the grinning pa.s.sengers turned to congratulate one another.

Christie gave Zee a hug. "Is life with you always this eventful?"

"Yeah," said Zee. "'Fraid you're just gonna have to get used to it."

Chapter 5.

Dusk was gathering, and in the distance a coyote had started to howl, when the battered stage rolled into the relay station.

Zee had warned Christie not to expect much. "It'll just be somewhere to eat and sleep." Just as well, she thought, staring out of the window at the rambling complex of old buildings and ramshackle stables. There were even some chickens wandering around the yard.

"Is this it?" asked Mrs. Grummond. "Well! I just hope they don't have fleas."

For once, Christie found herself in agreement with the woman.

"You'll be able to get some proper treatment for that arm of yours, Mr. Bonney," said Gregg, eyeing the corset immobilizing the banker's arm. Bonney grunted and shifted in his seat.

"All right, darlin'?"

Christie turned to smile at Zee who had taken to sitting inside again and was discreetly holding her hand. She suspected Zee was more shaken up by the spill than she cared to admit. "Just wishing it was our hotel in Phoenix," she murmured.

Zee smiled. "It's only for one night. Think you can manage?"

"I can if you can."

That earned her an approving squeeze of the fingers. Then the stage door opened, and a plump little man with a huge mustache welcomed them all to his "humble abode."

Zee got out first, and Christie let her help her down since she ached all over. They retrieved their luggage, then allowed themselves to be corralled by their affable host. Dusty, meanwhile, was unhitching the horses with an ostler's help and leading them away toward the stable block.

When all five women were gathered together in a group, their host 128 said, "Follow me, ladies," and led them at a brisk trot along the dusty path to the women's sleeping quarters.

From the outside, it looked like a huge barn. Inside, it was better than expected, but not by much. Off a long corridor were ten identi-cal rooms, all tiny and all containing a bed and a water jug and wash-basin. Their host allocated Zee and Christie the one at the far end.

As the other women were a.s.signed their billets, Zee and Christie escaped to their room and scanned their surroundings.

"Hardly the lap of luxury," said Christie, "but at least that bed's big enough to sleep two."

Zee nodded. "Sure is. During busy periods, complete strangers are expected to double up."

"Surely not?"

"Luckily," Zee winked at her, "we ain't strangers."

Christie sat on the mattress, which had seen better days, and watched Zee wander over to the part.i.tion separating them from next door. Zee rapped it with her knuckles.

"Walls are wafer thin," she concluded.

Christie sighed. Though she was tired and sore, she had been looking forward to Zee bedding her. "Guess we'll have to stick to snuggling then."

"Yeah?" Zee kicked the door shut and advanced on Christie, a predatory gleam in her eye.

"Mmfph!" Christie let herself be kissed, then remembered the thickness of the walls and persuaded Zee to simply hold her. It felt good to be alone with her at last, to relax against the lean, muscular body and feel safe and cherished. But then Zee's kisses resumed and became more urgent "First sitting, ladies, if you please." Two raps at the door accompanied their host's voice.

"d.a.m.n!" Zee released Christie and sat up. "Just when things were getting interesting."

While they both got their breath back, Christie busied herself refastening her b.u.t.tons and straightening her dress.

"First sitting," came the host's voice again, a little fainter this time, as he progressed along the corridor.

"We should eat something." Zee stood and allowed Christie to run a comb through her hair.

"As long as it's not another gristle sandwich. There." Christie 129.

stood back and a.s.sessed the result. "You'll do." That remark earned her a kiss, then Zee turned toward the door.

"Well. Only one way to find out about the food."

As they set off along the corridor, the door of the room next to theirs opened and Vesta Galvin came out. She smiled at them. "May I join you two for supper?"

"Please do," said Christie politely, ignoring an elbow in the ribs from Zee.

As they walked across the graveled yard to the dining room, they pa.s.sed a makeshift sign saying "Saloon" and an arrow. Zee darted off to investigate and came back grinning.

"It's a shed with a dirt floor and whitewashed walls, but it'll do,"

was her verdict.

In the dining room, the three of them sat together. Then Vesta's husband came in, saw them, and hurried over. The remaining pa.s.sengers took their places at the other tables. Once they were settled, the host's wife bustled in carrying platters of food.

Supper was a welcome surprise. The stewed chicken melted in the mouth, the fried eggs were newly laid, and the bread had been baked that morning. Christie wolfed down her food until the platter could have been licked clean, earning herself an amused glance from Zee.

Then came cups of freshly brewed coffee, which bore no relation to the sludge they had been served at dinner.

Conversation proceeded in fits and starts. The day's excitement was the primary topicthe Galvins were full of praise for the way both Zee and Christie had handled thingsthen came talk of their plans for Phoenix.

"We'll be working, of course," said Vesta. "Two performances a day and three on Sat.u.r.days . . . The rest of the Company are already there," she explained, in response to Christie's enquiry. "Yes, we usually do travel with them, but we made an exception this time. Mr.

Galvin," she turned to regard her husband fondly, "has distant relatives in Tucson, so we took time off to visit them. Didn't we, dear?"

The little man nodded, seeming content, like Zee, to merely listen to the conversation.

"And what are your plans, Miss Hayes?" Vesta turned to regard Christie.

"Oh . . . er, Deputy Brodie has some sheriff's business to take care of. But after that . . . Well, I've never been to Phoenix before, so she's 130 promised to show me around. Haven't you, Zee?"

Zee, who had just taken a gulp of coffee, merely winked at her.

Christie blushed and changed the subject.

The day's traumas were catching up on her with a vengeance and she found herself more and more trying not to yawn. The third time this happened, Zee reached over and pushed a strand of hair out of Christie's eyes.

"Go to bed," she ordered.

"It's still early."

Zee shrugged. "It don't matter."

The Galvins grinned as their gazes tracked between the two of them.

"Very well," said Christie. "Are you coming to bed too?"

"Think I'll have me a smoke and maybe a whiskey and a hand of cards or two first." She grinned at Dan and Vesta. "Anyone care to join me in the saloon?"

Christie tried not to be annoyed. It was she, after all, who had decreed they should merely snuggle. And it was early.

"I'll take you up on that smoke," said Dan. "Then it's bed for me too." He turned to his wife. "'The long day's task is done, and we must sleep,' eh, my dear?"

Vesta nodded. "Too long. I think I'll turn in too." She yawned, then apologized.

"Well, don't be long," Christie told Zee, rising and giving her shoulder a pat.

"I won't."

Vesta rose too. "Good night, dear," she told Dan. "Sleep well."

His brown eyes gleamed as he blew her an extravagant kiss.

"Good night, sweet lady."

Leaving Zee and Dan chatting about Five Card Stud (Christie resisted the urge to roll her eyes), she and Vesta walked back across the yard to their quarters. They were nearly there when Vesta sighed.

"Is something wrong?" asked Christie.

"Silly of me, I know," said Vesta, "but this is going to be the first time in months that I've slept in a different bed from my husband."