Christie And The Hellcat Part 27

Bob was sitting to the left of the dealer, so it fell to him to open 178 the betting. He tossed in a dollar.

"See your dollar and raise you five," said Silas, suiting the action to the words.

Zee considered the silver miner's dwindling pile of coins. Risky play, Silas. What've you got, a Full House?

Millain hesitated then reached for some bills. "See your five," he said, tossing them into the center of the table.

As the game unfolded, it became clear that the New Orleans gambler's winning streak had deserted him.

Guess he couldn't risk cheating with me around.

He placed his cards face down on the table. "Gentlemen, regret-fully, I fold."

Bob grunted. "Me too." He laid down his cards. "Let's see what you got, Silas."

"No yer don't. Didn't pay to see 'em, did yer?" A cackling Silas mixed his cards back into the deck, then began to rake in the pot's contents. "You've brought me luck, Brodie." He gave her a gap-toothed smile.

"Reckon we're even," she said, "seeing as how I nearly ran you down with the buckboard the other day."

Millain appeared to take his change in fortunes philosophically.

"Lady Luck is renowned for her fickleness. She deserted me today,"

he shrugged, "but there's always tomorrow." He stood up. "And now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen. Deputy. I have more pleasurable activities to pursue." He gave them a knowing wink and zigzagged his way through the tables toward the girl in yellow.

Zee watched him grab the pretty octoroon by the wrist and guide her (though it verged on dragging) toward the Golden Slipper's exit.

It was almost imperceptible, but she was sure the girl had flinched when Millain reached for her. She frowned. If the girl was as terrified of Millain as she seemed, why stay with him? Something wasn't right about those two.

"Know anything about her?" she asked.

Bob snickered, noting the direction of her gaze. "Thought you'd already got your hands full with that little blonde of yours, Brodie."

She glared at him and he held up his hands defensively. "Hey, only joking."

"Her name's Julie," piped up Silas. "That's all I know, 'cepting that he's got her wrapped round his little finger. Millain says 'Jump,'

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and she says 'How high?'" He looked wistful. "Wish my missus was like that." He jingled his winnings and a smile split his craggy features. "At least I ain't gonna catch it in the neck this time."

Zee rolled her eyes. "You mean you were betting Fannie's housekeeping money again?"

"Hey, I'm the one as earned it," protested Silas.

Still shaking her head at the silver miner's antics, Zee made her way out of the crowded den. Outside the Golden Slipper, she paused beside her mare and glanced up the street.

Millain and the girl were walking toward Mrs. Sandridge's boarding house. He still had hold of her arm. The conversation between them seemed to be all one wayshe was listening and nodding. As though sensing Zee's gaze, he glanced back at her. She pretended to tighten her horse's girth, and by the time she looked up again, the pair had vanished inside the boarding house.

Zee put her foot in the stirrup and mounted up. As she rode toward the railroad station, she pondered Millain's treatment of Julie.

Slavery had never taken off in Benson, and it was now illegal anyway, but she couldn't help wondering . . . She sighed. All she had was hints and suspicions, nothing to grab hold of.

The stomping of her boots on the station telegraph office's floorboards brought old Henry, the clerk, to the window. He pushed up his wire-framed spectacles and peered at her.

"What can I do for you, Deputy? Want to send a telegram?"

"No. Just wondering if there's been any reply to Hogan's telegram yet."

"The one to New Orleans?"

She nodded.

"It came in five minutes ago. Now where did I put it?" He blinked at his surroundings then brightened. "Ah, I know."

Moments later, telegram folded neatly in one pocket, Zee stepped out of the telegraph office and headed for her horse.

Chapter 5.

It was only after Zee had ridden off back into town that Christie noticed the burlap sack lying forgotten on the kitchen table.

She opened the drawstring and tipped out the wizened contents onto the scrubbed wood, then laughed out loud. Buying flower bulbs for her was getting to be a habit for Zee. Who'd have guessed the former h.e.l.lcat was such a romantic? She sorted through the bulbs and corms with a fingertip, then replaced them in the sack for later.

Humming softly to herself and feeling much happier than she had before Zee came home, Christie finished making the parlor curtains and hung them. She c.o.c.ked her head first to one side then the other as she viewed them from all angles, and felt quietly pleased with the results.

After that, she made some more lemonade, then found a sc.r.a.p of paper and stub of pencil and sat down to make a list of all the things they would need in order to turn this house into a home.

The wh.o.r.es had ferried Zee and Christie's possessions over from the brothel, but they didn't amount to much. Christie glanced round the kitchen then bent her head and wrote.

Cutlery. Crockery. Tinware. Theirs was on loan from the brothel but they would need their ownjust the essentials first, of course.

Bed linen. She had discovered (with mixed feelingsthey felt wonderful on the skin but were hard to launder) that the satin sheets were only on loan too.

Material for shirts and some new Levi's for Zee. The deputy was rough on her clothes . . . and on Christie's too. She had lost count of the number of b.u.t.tons that needed replacing and seams that needed rest.i.tching due to Zee's impatience. She chuckled fondly and sucked the end of the pencil.

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Whitewash. Matches. Kerosene for the lamps. Soap . . .

Time pa.s.sed, and almost before Christie knew it, Zee was riding into the back yard and tying up the horse. She put down her pencil and hurried to put the food on the table.

After Zee had devoured boiled beef and canned vegetables, and eaten more than her fair share of that second peach pie Ann Shaw had sent over (Christie was unable to resist ribbing her about it, but Zee merely grinned, unrepentant) Christie asked Zee about her day. Zee's interest in the gambler from New Orleans and the girl in yellow intrigued her.

"Is she his mistress?"

"No." Zee stretched like a cat then relaxed. "His ward. Name of Julie Fontenot."

Christie blinked. "But I thought you said . . ."

Zee patted her lap and Christie slid onto it. One hand curled round her waist, the other settled on her knee. "Yeah, I did," continued Zee.

"And I've a feeling he's a mite more friendly with Miss Julie than a guardian oughtta be."

Christie made a face.

"They ain't blood relatives, if that's what you're thinking."

She twisted and looked at Zee. "Oh. So what exactly are they?"

"It's quite a story." Zee smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Want to hear it?"

Christie poked her in the ribs.

Zee chuckled and squeezed her knee. "Few years back'fore your time, darlin'steamboats were all the rage. Well, it seems Americus Millain used to do his gambling on the Delta Queen, one of the stern-wheelers that sailed between New Orleans and St. Louis.

Bit of a card sharp. Quick to defend himself against those accusing him of cheating. Too quick, if you get my drift."

"He killed people?"

"Twelve, all told."

The blue eyes were distant and Christie wondered if Zee was thinking about those she had killed in the line of duty.

Zee sighed and shook off her melancholy. "Anyway. The Delta Queen had a five-piece orchestra, the finest in wines and liqueurs, a restaurant filled with dee-lectable offerings, and," she glanced at Christie, "lots of beautiful women. Pretty much a floating bordello."

She felt her eyes widen. Zee chuckled and chucked her under her chin.

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"Not like Angie's Palace, though. The Delta Queen girls were high-cla.s.s wh.o.r.es. Spanish, French, some even had Haitian blood.

Filles de joie, they called themselves. And they didn't come cheap."

Christie chewed her lower lip. "How do you know all this?"

"Knew a woman who worked on the Delta Queen." Zee shrugged.

"Her looks were fading by the time I met her, but you could see she must once have been really something. She liked to talk about the good old days. You know, after we'd . . ." She trailed off.

"Oh." Christie stifled the pang that mention of Zee's previous con-quests always brought. She became aware Zee was studying her and smiled brightly. "Go on."

"That's all in the past," murmured Zee.

"I know," said Christie just as quietly. "Go on about the river-boats."

It was a moment before Zee continued. "Well," she said. "One of the filles de joie was a quadroon named Marian Fontenot."

"Fontenot. Isn't that the same"

"Yeah. She was very beautiful by all accounts. Tall, long-legged, graceful . . . and very popular. She could have had her pick of the beaux, but the poor woman fell in love with Americus Millain." Zee sighed. "She and him got intimate." She gave Christie a significant glance.

"She had a child?"

Zee nodded. "Died of it too."

"How tragic! So Julie's their daughter? But I thought you said"

Zee's hand clamped itself over her mouth.

"Are you gonna let me tell this story or not?" For answer, Christie licked Zee's palm. Zee smiled and withdrew her hand. "The child died," she went on. "The little octoroon is Marian's by a previous liaisonshe was six when her mother died."

"Oh."

"Now, Marian knew she was fading fast, so she made Millain promise to look after Julie. Had the guardianship papers drawn up, all above board and legal like."

"He signed?"

"Yeah."

Christie didn't like the way this story was developing. "And you think?"

"No matter how well intentioned he started out, somewhere along 183.

the trail he changed. Maybe when he saw how pretty she turned out, he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth." Zee shrugged.

"Who knows."

"So you think he's had," Christie searched for the right word, "relations with his ward?"

Zee nodded. "Think he's been hitting her too."

"That poor girl! He's supposed to protect her."

"Sure is, 'til she's married or turns twenty-one anyway." Zee stroked Christie's hair. "But he's in my jurisdiction now, darlin', and if I see him doing something he shouldn't . . ."

"You'll take him to task," finished Christie.

Zee nodded. "d.a.m.ned right," she growled.