Christie And The Hellcat Part 42

"Yes. I want you to promise that, whatever happens in the next few minutes, you will keep it just between ourselves. Will you?"

"Yes, Sister Florence. But I don't understand."

"Thank you, child. It's quite simple. I have a visitor for you."

There was a click, then the closet door swung open. Zee took her cue and stepped out into the vestry, blinking.

Faun-like eyes gaped at her. Their owner, a pretty and very pregnant young woman of about Christie's height, who was wearing a shapeless gray dress, put a hand to her mouth. "But who are you? And why are you hiding in the closet?"

"Name's Deputy Zee Brodie."

Comprehension filled the dark eyes. "Oh! You're the one who seduced Blue's sister."

Fortunately Sister Florence seemed unperturbed by Jenny's revelation. Angie must have told her in that letter. "That's right."

Long lashes blinked at her. "How is Blue? Is he all right?"

Jenny's concern for Blue raised her a notch in Zee's estimation.

"As well as can be expected," she said. "Considering his prospective wife and child left him."

Confusion filled Jenny's gaze. "Isn't that what he wanted? A fresh start back East, without me and the enc.u.mbrance of a baby?"

"No," said Zee. "And whoever told you it was is a d.a.m.ned liar . . .

Pardon my language, Sister Florence." The nun waved the apology aside.

"But I don't understand," said Jenny.

"Hardly surprising as this situation appears to be rather . . . tangled."

The sister gave the girl's hand a soothing pat. "Deputy Brodie has been trying to ascertain the facts." She turned to Zee. "Would you care to lay them out for us?"

"Thanks. Far as I can tell," said Zee, "Blue thinks Jenny wants to get rid of his baby and marry Andrew LeRoy. And Jenny thinks Blue wants nothing more to do with her."

"Concisely put," said Sister Florence.

Jenny was frowning. "But Papa said . . . Do you mean to tell me, Blue does want me after all?" A tear spilled down her cheek.

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"That's right. In fact he's a broken man without you," said Zee.

"Oh!" The girl put her face in her hands and began to sob. Sister Florence produced a large handkerchief from somewhere and gave it to her.

There was a loud knock at the door.

"Sister Florence," came Mrs. Archer's voice. "Sister Florence. Is my niece all right? What in the world can be taking you so long?"

"She's fine," called Sister Florence, glancing at Zee then at the closet. "Nearly finished. One minute."

Zee nodded her understanding. "I have to go," she murmured in Jenny's ear. "But I'll be back to get you out of here." The girl's head came up and tearful eyes gaped at Zee. "You and Blue will be together again," she promised, giving the slender shoulder a squeeze. "Be ready to leave at a moment's notice. And whatever you do, don't tell your aunt anything. All right?"

Two spots of color appeared in Jenny's cheeks. She nodded, tentatively at first then more firmly.

"Good girl." Zee stepped back inside her hiding place, and the closet door swung closed behind her.

Chapter 6.

It was lucky the house was so close to the station depot, thought Christie, as she struggled along the road. She had forgotten Zee wouldn't be here to carry her luggage.

Maybe she should have wired Blue and asked him to meet her after all. But that would have given him the chance to say he didn't need her help.

She swapped the heavy cases over, redistributing the weight. It helped . . . for all of three paces. Her arms still felt as though they were being pulled from their sockets.

Will Zee still love me when my knuckles drag along the sidewalk?

Fortunately, the little clapboard house that had once been her home was just up ahead. Maybe if she took the last few yards at a brisk trot . . .

Her grip gave out two paces from the front porch. The cases fell to the ground with a thud.

A bewhiskered old man in a blue flannel shirt stopped at her m.u.f.fled exclamation. "You all right, Miss?"

Christie turned, flexing her fingers. "Yes, thank you for asking."

He returned her smile, tipped his shabby hat to her, and continued on his way, whistling.

She shook her hands until the cramp eased, then turned and regarded what had once been her own front door. The roses around it were dying, she saw with some sadness. Blue must have stopped watering them.

Was her brother at home or still at the store? Only one way to find out.

She stepped up onto the porch, smoothed her dress over her hips, and retied her bonnet. It probably made little difference to her 277.

appearance. Train travel always left her feeling crumpled, sweaty, and s.m.u.t-stained and the trip from Benson had been no exception.

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and rapped the doorknocker twice.

For a long moment there was no response, then from inside came the sound of approaching footsteps. The door creaked open, and there stood her brother.

His jaw dropped. "Christie!"

"Blue." She flung herself at him and hugged him. After a moment, he returned her embrace. Then she stood back and looked at him.

Though Zee had prepared her for a change, his appearance shocked her. He had lost weight, she saw at once. And there were shadows under his eyes that hadn't been there before. He was also in need of a shave and haircut, and (she tried not to be too obvious as she sniffed) both he and his clothes could do with a wash.

"What are you doing here, Sis?"

A fat woman was coming down the street toward herMrs.

James, their neighbor. Christie wasn't sure if she was in earshot yet, but, if she was, now was the perfect moment to put her plan into action.

"Oh, Blue," she cried. "Please don't turn me away. I made a terrible mistake. But I've come to my senses at last." She had been aiming for melancholy but suspected she had achieved merely melodra-ma. I'm no Vesta Galvin.

He stared at her.

"I've left Zee," she announced. "I've left her and I'm never going back."

GIF.

Christie shut the front door behind her. "I haven't really," she told the dumbfounded Blue. "That was just in case anyone was listening."

His brows knit and he stroked his mustache. "Are you feeling all right, Sis?"

"Perfectly well, thank you." She beamed at him, overjoyed to be reunited with the brother she had thought was permanently estranged from her. Her joy faded as she saw how red and puffy his eyes were.

Had he been crying?

"But you're not well at all, are you? Zee told me all about it."

He stiffened. "Is that why you're here? Because if so"

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"Of course it is." She raised a hand to stifle further protest. "What kind of sister would I be if I didn't help my brother when he needs me?"

"I don't"

"You most certainly do." She wagged a finger at him. "Look at the state of you! And of this house." A thin layer of dust covered everything, and there was a huge cobweb hanging in the corner by the stairs. "Mama would be horrified."

Blue blinked at his surroundings as though seeing them for the first time. "I suppose you're right. I've let things go a little."

Christie let raised eyebrows speak for her, and he flushed a delicate shade of pink that spread to the tips of his ears. With their coloring, the two siblings had always been susceptible to blushing.

Seeing Blue's face now, she understood why Zee was always teasing herit must be irresistible.

"Don't worry." She patted his arm. "I'll soon have this place . . .

and you . . . spick-and-span again."

He sighed and changed the subject. "Shall I bring in your luggage?"

"Please."

She crossed to the banister and gazed up the stairs. It was peculiar being back here. It was still her home, and yet it wasn't. It made con-crete something she had been beginning to suspect. Her place now was with Zee, in the house in Schoolhouse Lane.

"Thank you." She accepted the lightest of the cases from her brother. "Is my room still the small one at the back?"

Blue nodded. "It's just as you left it."

She started up the stairs. But I'm not.

GIF.

The first thing Christie did, when she had unpacked, shaken the creases from her clothes, and put them away, was to prepare them both some supper. She was ravenous, but Blue's cupboard was almost bare. (She made a note to go shopping for supplies tomorrow.) Fortunately, she had come across some cold cooked potatoes during her search, and, with the aid of an egg, some milk, and sugar, was able to improvise.

While supper was cooking, she laid the kitchen table. Then she 279.

handed him the cutthroat razor and stood over him while he shaved.

After that, she sharpened the scissors on a whetstone and trimmed his mustache, sideburns, and hair. That he allowed her to do so without a word of complaint worried her, though she tried not to show it. The brother she had known would have objected, but this new version of Blue couldn't seem to work up the energy.

By this time, an appetizing aroma of potato pudding had spread round the house and her stomach was rumbling. She removed the supper from the stove and served it, calling to her brother to wash his hands and come and eat. He did so, looking almost presentable if you overlooked his stale and crumpled clothes.

As she ate, she wondered what Zee was having for her supper.

Then she noticed that Blue was only picking at his.

"Don't you like it?"

"It's fine. I'm just not hungry."

No wonder he was losing weight. "Well, try to eat a little," she urged. "You need the nourishment." He smiled at her and made an effort, but when she came to clear away their dishes, she saw that half his food remained. Luckily, potato pudding was excellent served cold, so she covered the plate and placed it in the pantry, in case he should feel hungry later.

After she had washed and dried the dishes, the day's exertions caught up with her, and though it was earlier than her usual bedtime, she said goodnight and made her way up to bed.

She gave herself a perfunctory wash, put on her nightdress, and slipped between the sheets. It was then that she made an unwelcome discovery. The bed that had once been cozy now felt cramped and yet at the same time empty. She was used to their huge double bed, she realized, and to having Zee's arms wrapped around her. Used to making love and whispering affectionate sweet nothings before falling asleep. Without these things, she found herself wide awake and lonely.

She sat up, plumped her pillows, then lay back once more and felt sorry for herself. Was Zee missing her as badly as she was missing Zee? She hoped so.

Christie snorted as anger and self-pity gave way to amus.e.m.e.nt, and she took herself to task. If Zee could be here, she would, but she's off finding the blacksmith's daughter. So stop being selfish. After all, it won't be for long.

After that, she found if she closed her eyes and pictured Zee lying 280 on her bedroll beneath the stars somewhere and thinking of her, things didn't seem so bad. And somehow, before she knew it, she was dreaming of a dashing dark-haired outlaw, who held up her stagecoach and carried her off into the desert, there to have her wicked way with her.

Chapter 7.