Christie And The Hellcat Part 49

She raised an eyebrow. "Am I right?"

There was another long pause. "Yes," he said finally. "I would take a very dim view of anyone who tried to tarnish my good name."

"And if the tarnisher was your own son?"

He stood up and began to pace in front of the fireplace. "Why should I believe your lies, Deputy Brodie? I know who you are. I know what you did, how you seduced Miss Hayes and corrupted her."

Zee examined a fingernail. "For all I know," he continued, "this is just a continuation of your rivalry with Fred." He stopped pacing.

She looked up. "Mr. Younger. This ain't about rivalry. Frankly, I'd prefer to have nothing more to do with your son; the man's mean as a rattler, and his friends ain't no better. But he's set on hurting me and mine, and I can't allow that. Pardon my plain speaking."

Alexander Younger's cheeks had reddened, and she thought he was going to tell her to leave. But he got a grip on his temper and said, "I must confess, in recent times the boy has been a severe disappointment to me, as for his friends . . ." He trailed off and shook his head. "But he's still my son." He resumed his seat.

She leaned forward. "That's why I've come to you rather than to the town marshal."

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His face paled. "Has Fred really done something to bring shame to my family?"

"Yeah."

"You can substantiate this accusation?"

"Sure can."

The fight seemed to go out of the old man, and he sighed and leaned back in his armchair. "Very well." He steepled his fingers.

"You'd better tell me all about it."

So she did.

GIF.

Nellie put down the tray of drinks, cast a curious glance at her now pale employer and scurried out. Alexander Younger picked up the half-full whiskey decanter and filled the two gla.s.ses on the tray.

He pushed one toward Zee and drained the other himself.

While he refilled his gla.s.s, Zee sipped hers. It was hard to believe the smooth amber liquor bore the same name as that rotgut they served in the Golden Slipper.

The color had just about returned to his cheeks when he spoke.

"What will it take for you not to go public with this?"

Triumph surged through her, but she kept her poker face in place.

"First," she ticked off the points on her fingers, "Lord Camborne gets his money back. By now, he should realize the silver mine Fred and his friend sold him is worthless. Reckon he'll be feeling pretty foolish and more than willing to keep it quiet if the sale is declared null and void."

Younger grunted. "Go on."

"Second. Fred stays out of Contention and Benson." She considered for a moment then amended it. "h.e.l.l, out of the Territory entirely works better. Crux of the matter is, from now on he stays away from both Christie and Blue. He's caused the Hayes family enough grief."

"Fred's mother will object to not being able to see her son"

"It's not negotiable." Zee's gaze was hard.

Anger flared behind Younger's eyes, then faded, replaced by thoughtfulness. "I had been wondering whether Fred might not benefit from some time in Europe. Many young men have their horizons broadened by a Grand Tour." He stroked his whiskers. "It won't suit 319.

Cecilia Fremont, of course. But that can't be helped." He nodded.

"I'll talk to Caroline about it."

"Do that. Third. The Fabric Emporium Fred got you to open on Commercial Street, opposite Hayes's store. It closes, today."

Younger scratched his whiskers then shrugged. "All right. Is that it?"

"One final condition. But I don't think it'll be hard to fulfill. Put Blue Hayes up for membership of the Cactus Club. His name was proposed once before, but your son blackballed him." He had the grace to look shamefaced. "With you as his sponsor that shouldn't happen a second time."

Younger stood up and crossed to a bureau, from which he retrieved a box of cigars. He brought it back to his seat, flipped open the lid, and took one, then gestured to Zee to help herself.

She started to reach for one then remembered what Christie had said and shook her head. "No thanks."

He shrugged and busied himself clipping and lighting his cigar.

She waited until thick smoke was curling toward the ceiling.

"Well. Is it a deal or ain't it?"

Younger blew out a smoke ring. "You've got yourself a deal."

Chapter 14.

Christie was gazing out of the window when an officious-looking man reined his horse to a halt outside the busy store across the street.

She watched him dismount, tether his horse to the hitching rail, and barge his way inside.

She was just turning away, when the store's customers began to file out onto the sidewalk, some red-faced and gesticulating. A "closed" sign appeared in one of the windows. Then the rider emerged and rode away.

"Well!" she murmured, registering the tinkle of the doorbell.

"Wonder what that was about."

"Ain't it obvious?"

She swung round. Zee was standing in her doorway, a smug grin on her face. Christie beamed at her. "What took you so long?"

As Zee advanced into the store, Christie threw herself at her and gave her a bear hug.

"Ribs, darlin'."

"Sorry." She relinquished her grip and stood back, scrutinizing Zee. "Are you all right? When you didn't come back . . ." But she could see no evidence of fresh injury.

"Took me a while to find the Younger place, that's all. Getting past his offspring slowed me up some too. Saw him in the end though."

She took Christie's elbow and guided her back to the window. "Went like clockwork."

"He agreed to call Fred off?"

"See for yourself." Zee gestured, and Christie saw that shutters were going up on the store across the street.

That rider must've been Younger's messenger. "Blue will be very happy to get his customers back."

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"Yeah." An arm circled Christie's shoulders and she leaned into it.

"Looks like it's working already too. That couple is headed this way."

Two of the thwarted customersa fat woman in a bustle and bonnet, and a beanpole of a man with a walrus mustachewere indeed crossing the street toward the dry goods store. Christie recognized the Munros.

"Oh." She shook off Zee's arm, tidied her hair as best she could, and straightened her ap.r.o.n.

"You could always put up the 'closed' sign," suggested Zee.

Christie ignored her, scuttled behind the counter, and tried to look nonchalant as the door opened, tinkling the bell.

"Good morning, Mrs. Munro, Mr. Munro." She smiled her best smile. "Nice to see you."

"Miss Hayes." The fat woman frowned. "Is your brother not here today?" Her husband's gaze slid over Zee, who was lounging against the counter, and then away again.

"No. He's not . . . What may I get for you?"

"Oh . . . er . . . Ten yards of dimity, please."

Christie ran her gaze along the shelves and grimaced. Blue kept the bolts of that particular corded-cotton material on the very top shelf. She would need the little stepladder from the back. "We have a good selection of stripes and checks, as you can see. Which one would you like?"

Mrs. Munro pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. Could I see that one,"

she pointed, "and that one."

Christie nodded and was turning to fetch the steps when a hand on her arm halted her. Zee eased past her.

"Allow me." Zee reached up and lifted down the bolts in question then placed the heavy rolls of fabric on the counter as though they weighed no more than thistledown.

Christie shot her a grateful smile and began to unroll the material for Mrs. Munro's inspection.

"So, Mrs. Munro." She spread out the pale-blue striped dimity.

"What do you think?"

"Hm." A fat thumb and forefinger rubbed the material between them. "A good thickness," she said grudgingly. "But I don't know.

That pink." She turned to her husband. "What do you think, dear?

The blue or the pink?"

Munro shrugged and looked out the window. Choosing material 322 was clearly women's work in his eyes. His wife turned back to Christie. "The blue," she said. "I'll have the blue."

"Ten yards you said?" Christie fetched Blue's dressmaking shears, measured the material against the gauge glued along the counter's edge, and cut off a length. While Zee restored the bolts to their rightful places on the top shelf, Christie folded the dimity, wrapped it in some brown paper, and tied it with string. There. She gave the parcel a satisfied glance. Even Blue couldn't fault that.

The price book was under the counter and she retrieved it and checked the cost. "That'll be three dollars, please."

"How much?" Mrs. Munro looked outraged. "They were selling dimity for twenty-five cents a yard across the street."

"Then perhaps you shoulda gone there," said Zee.

It was the first time she had addressed the woman, and Mrs.

Munro started, like a horse on hearing a rattler. Mr. Munro turned from viewing the street outsidethe other store's disgruntled customers had dispersedand came to stand protectively beside his wife.

Christie shot Zee a quelling look. "I'm sorry if you think it's too much, Mrs. Munro. Blue costed it carefully, and I know my brother he wouldn't set a price that isn't fair."

Mrs. Munro looked as though she was going to disagree, but a hard stare from Zee made her close her mouth and shuffle closer to her husband. "Very well." She opened her drawstring bag and counted out the exact money. "But I shall have to think twice before recommending your establishment to my friends."

Christie took the money and put it in the empty till. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Mrs. Munro sniffed, tucked her brown paper parcel under one arm, and marched out of the store, her husband giving Zee a wary look before following her.

As the door swung closed behind them, Zee called a sarcastic, "Pleasure doing business with you." Then she vaulted over the counter, locked the door, and flipped the sign in the window round to "Closed."

"What are you doing? It's not even dinnertime yet and"

"Far as I'm concerned, it's time to go home." Zee strolled back toward Christie.

"What about the store?"

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Zee leaned her elbows on the counter, bringing the two of them face to face. "We didn't come to Contention to run a store."

"But" A sloppy kiss on the nose stopped Christie. "Zee!" She blushed and wiped her wet nose with one hand.