Christie And The Hellcat Part 41

268.

"Enjoying the view, Deputy?" asked Nellie the Fox, in between puffs on a cheroot.

"Mighty fine, thanks." Zee winked.

Rowdy Mollie straightened her petticoats. "Where's Christie?"

"Gone to Contention."

Red Mary's face lit up. "Does that mean you'll be requiring our services while she's away?"

Zee was about to set her to rights when Angie's voice came from behind her. "There. It's done."

She stepped back into the office and took the envelope Angie was holding out. "But this is sealed." The red blob of wax bore the imprint of Angie's signet ring.

"Of course it is."

"Wanted to read what you wrote," grumbled Zee. "What did you say about me?"

"None of your d.a.m.ned business."

"But"

Angie laughed. "It's confidential. Between Florence and me."

Zee knew when she was beaten. She sighed and tucked the envelope in her vest pocket. "All right. But if Sister Florence comes after me with a shotgun"

Angie wagged a finger at her. "Have a little faith, Brodie."

"I'll try."

Chapter 5.

The ride was a long and dusty one, and by the time Zee arrived at the clump of willows that had given its name to the orphanage she was hot and in need of some shade. It didn't help that her ribs were aching. She moistened her bandanna with water from her canteen and retied it, enjoying the coolness on the nape of her neck.

A dozen children, of varying ages but all energetic and grubby, were playing in the fenced-off yard next to the smaller of the two clapboard buildingsthe school presumably. After the silence of the last couple of hours, their shrieks were piercing, and Zee's mare tossed her mane and nickered; she couldn't help but agree.

She dismounted and tethered her horse. By now, the shrieks had subsided and the children were crowding the fence, staring at her.

"Howdy, varmints." She tipped her hat and winked. Eyes widened and mouths dropped open. A gangly boy hared off indoors to fetch an adult.

"It's a woman," said a freckled girl in a much-patched, pink dress.

"Don't be stupid." The speaker was a boy with ginger hair.

"Women don't wear trousers."

"That's quite enough of that," boomed a female voice. The large woman coming toward them was dressed in a black habit, veil, and pleated cape, and a white collar and coif. Behind her trailed the gangly boy. "Playtime is over. Indoors now, all of you, and leave our visitor alone." She clapped her hands twice. "I said now. Sister Euphrasia is waiting." She cast a sharp glance at a fair-haired boy about to pinch the girl next to him. "That includes you, Sam."

There were a few protests and whines, but a frown from the sister soon had the children disappearing indoors. That done, the nun turned her attention to Zee. Her mouth curled in disapproval though 270 her greeting was polite enough. "May I help you?"

Zee took off her hat. "Sister Florence?"

"No. I'm Sister Agnes." Hands chapped by housework worked a rosary with a click, click, click of beads. "You wish to see Sister Florence?"

She nodded.

"Very well. Wait here and I will see if she is receiving visitors."

Sister Agnes turned to go then paused and turned back. "Who shall I say is calling?"

"Deputy Zee Brodie." Zee fished the envelope from her pocket, still sealed, though temptation had almost got the better of her. "Got a letter of introduction here."

Sister Agnes took it and gave it a cursory inspection. Then she headed toward the other building, a two-story structure that must be the orphanage proper.

Zee put her hat back on and went to join her horse in the shade.

She filled her palm with water from the canteen and let it drink. That ch.o.r.e done, there was still no sign of either Sister Agnes or the mysterious Sister Florence.

Wonder what Angie put in that letter? She squatted on her heels and whistled under her breath, then pulled out her pocket watch and flipped it open. Christie should be in Contention by now.

Somewhere, a door creaked open and Zee looked up. A large black crow was heading toward her. She blinked and straightened, pulling the brim of her Stetson down against the glare. The crow resolved itself into Sister Agnes, habit flapping.

"Deputy Brodie," called the sister, beckoning. "Sister Florence will see you. Please come with me."

GIF.

Zee banged her hat against her thigh, to get the worst of the dust off, and followed Sister Agnes into the hallway. It was a welcome relief to get out of the heat.

Her eyes adjusted to the relative gloom of the interior and she allowed the Sister of Charity to lead her through into a small room labeled "Vestry." One wall was lined with closets. Furniture consisted of a small table and four uncomfortable-looking chairs. On the table was a bra.s.s handbell.

271.

"Someone will be with you shortly." Sister Agnes left Zee alone.

Moments later, a different sister entered, bearing a gla.s.s of lemonade on a tray. Zee drained it in two swallows and handed it back with her thanks. Shortsighted gray eyes, already wide at her appearance (must be the battered face, she supposed), widened even further. Then the nun, who was short and thin and wore wire-framed spectacles, recollected herself and exited as silently as she had entered.

"Guess she wasn't Sister Florence either." Zee wandered over to the window and stared out at the windmill turning in the breeze, pumping up the water from the underground spring that was the reason the Sisters of Charity had chosen this site. In the distance a lesson bell rang.

"No. But I am."

She swung round in surprise.

"It's not often we are paid a visit by the notorious h.e.l.lcat." Like the other sisters, the new arrival was wearing a black habit, veil, and pleated cape, and a white collar and coif.

"The h.e.l.lcat don't exist no more, Sister. I'm . . ." Zee trailed off as she registered the twinkle in the gray eyes and the opened letter clutched in the nun's hand.

"Deputy Zee Brodie," completed Sister Florence. "I know. But allow an old woman a moment of excitement. It'll have to last me several years."

Zee snorted. "Old" was pushing it, she decided, taking an instant liking to Angie Tucker's friend. More like in her fifties. She'd also hazard a guess that Sister Florence had once been quite a looker, before time and the elements had coa.r.s.ened her complexion.

"Please." Sister Florence gestured with a work-worn hand. "Sit."

Zee did so. The sister did likewise and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Now. Tell me what brings you to my establishment. As far as I am aware, none of the sisters are wanted by the law. Nor are any of our charges come to that. Though with scamps like Sam Baker, it's surely only a matter of time." She gave a rueful smile.

Zee started to lean forward, but her sore ribs made her think twice.

"You take in fallen women here. That right?"

"If you mean desperate and wronged young women in need of our help," corrected Sister Florence, "then yes, we do. We care for them during their confinement, until they are well enough to pick up the pieces of their lives. Some take their babies with them, some entrust 272 them to our care."

"I'm looking for one in particular."

Sister Florence's expression became watchful. "I cannot divulge the ident.i.ties of the women here. It is a matter of trust and confidentiality."

Zee thought for a moment. "Suppose you don't tell me anything, but I tell you?"

"Very well."

"Her name's Jenny Farnham." Sister Florence's poker face was perfect. d.a.m.n! "The baby's father wants to marry her, but her parents have other ideas."

"I see."

"That all you can say? She's here against her will."

"No one is here against their will," said Sister Florence. "I am certain of that. Perhaps the parents have their daughter's best interests at heart. Or did that not occur to you?"

Her statement brought Zee up short. Could Blue have been right?

Did Jenny agree with her parents' plans for her? Her mind raced.

"Maybe it's just she's accepted her fate," she guessed. "Maybe she thinks she has no choice."

"That's a possibility," conceded Sister Florence. She got up, went to the window, and stared out.

Time stretched. Zee could hear the faint buzzing of a fly, the distant ticking of the clock in the hall . . . She picked at a loose thread on her Levi's and schooled herself to patience. At last she was rewarded.

"Deputy Brodie." Sister Florence turned to face her, her expression somber. "Partly because of the endors.e.m.e.nt my old friend has given you," she lifted the letter she still held, "and partly because I myself have had some doubts about this particular young woman, I'm going to break my cardinal rule."

Zee let out a sigh of relief.

"Jenny Farnham is here . . . accompanied by her aunt, who rarely leaves her side."

Zee arched an eyebrow.

"Quite. Now it could of course just be that Jenny has been so upset by recent events she needs constant support. But," Sister Florence began to pace, her long skirts swishing as they brushed the floorboards, "as yet, none of us has made any serious effort to talk to the 273.

girl on her own." She shook her head. "A highly unsatisfactory state of affairs."

Zee nodded. "We need the facts, ma'am."

"The facts," repeated the nun, halting and nodding once. "I think I can arrange that." She reached for the handbell and rang it. The little sister in the spectacles who had brought the lemonade reappeared.

"Yes, Sister Florence?"

"Sister Mary. Will you please tell Miss Farnham that I wish to speak with her at once? Bring her to the vestry, will you?"

"Yes, Sister." Sister Mary bowed her head again and hurried away, but not before giving Zee another curious glance.

"But the aunt will come too," objected Zee.

"Indeed."

"She won't let Jenny speak to me."

"She'll let her speak to me, or I shall ask them both to leave the orphanage." Sister Florence looked at the closets lining the wall of the vestry then walked toward one and opened the door. "Hide in here, Deputy."

Inside the closet was a rail, from which hung black habits and other items of clothing. Zee grimaced but made s.p.a.ce for herself amongst the nuns' apparel, which gave off the faint whiff of moth-b.a.l.l.s. Then the door closed with a click and she was in pitch black-ness. Good thing I'm not scared of the dark.

She resigned herself to a lengthy, suffocating wait. But it wasn't long before she heard the sound of a door opening, followed by the murmur of voices. Turning awkwardly in the cramped s.p.a.ce, she eased aside a clothes hanger that was digging into her back and pressed her ear to the door.

"Jenny alone, if you don't mind, Mrs. Archer."

"I do mind," came a rather shrill voice. "I see no reason why anything you might have to say to my niece cannot be spoken in my presence. We keep no secrets from one another. Do we, dear?"

"No, Aunt." The reply was barely audible.

"Nevertheless," said Sister Florence, "I need to talk with Miss Farnham about certain . . . ahem . . . delicate, one might even say intimate, matters. Her health and the health of her baby, you understand, are my chief concern."

"Oh." There was an embarra.s.sed silence. "Well, in that case . . . I shall wait outside."

274.

There was a sound of the door opening and closing and Zee smiled in the darkness.

"Now, Miss Farnham. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of m-me?"