Christie And The Hellcat Part 50

Zee grinned and straightened up. "I'll ask Milligan to keep an eye on the place until Blue gets back. If your brother wants to stay in Benson awhile longer, he'll have to find someone to run the store in his absence."

Christie pursed her lips and considered. The store was Blue's responsibility. She and Zee had their own lives to lead. And she very much wanted to get back to them.

"You're right." She undid her ap.r.o.n and hung it on a hook. "I'll close up."

"Atta girl."

Chapter 15.

As is always the way, it took far less time to pack for the return trip to Benson than it had for the trip out. There was no careful selecting of items that might be needed, it was just a case of spotting things that didn't belong in Blue's house and stowing them in the luggage.

Even so, it took Christie longer than a fidgety Zee wanted.

"Will you stop pacing up and down?" asked Christie. "There's plenty of time before the train leaves."

Zee sighed and threw herself on the bed. "I know." She clasped her arms behind her head. "It's just that . . . the sooner we leave, the better."

Christie stopped her packing. "What's wrong?"

"Just a hunch."

"About?"

"Fred."

"But his father said"

"I know." Zee pushed herself up off the bed and began to pace once more. "But if Fred's the hothead I think he is, he won't take kindly to his father making deals involving his future, even if it's aimed at keeping his sorry carca.s.s out of jail. He'll come looking for me 'stead of thinking things through."

Christie considered that for a moment, compared the man she had known with the person he was now. Fred's pride had always been easily hurt, she remembered. Then he would lose his temper. She chewed her lower lip. "Maybe we should tell Milligan."

Zee stopped her pacing. "It's not my safety I'm worried about, darlin'."

Christie blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry, Zee, I don't quite"

"What if he comes after me and I have to kill him?" Somber blue 325.

eyes regarded her. "How will you feel about me then?"

"How will I . . .?" Christie stepped forward and slipped her arms around Zee's waist. "Oh, sweetheart." She leaned her head against Zee's chest, felt strong arms come up to hold her. "Nothing could change the way I feel about you."

"Nothing?"

She thought for a long moment. "Well, if you were to bed Red Mary again . . ."

Zee chuckled. "You really don't like her, do you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No."

Zee kissed her then drew back. "You don't have to worry about her, you know."

"I know." Christie smiled.

She stepped out of Zee's arms and continued her packing, thinking of what Zee had said. When she had folded the last item and closed up the case, she turned to the waiting deputy.

"Even so," she said, "if possible, I'd rather you didn't kill him."

Zee's brows drew together. "Why?"

"Because he's so far beneath you, he's not worth it. And anyway,"

Christie picked up one of the lighter cases and headed for the stairs, "you made a deal with his father."

GIF.

They had almost reached the station depot when, from nowhere, a lariat dropped round Christie's shoulders.

"Zee!"

Zee, who was one step behind her, let out an oath.

The rope tightened, pinning Christie's arms to her sides and pulling her off balance. She dropped the case she was carrying, dug in her heels, and squirmed, trying to see if Zee was all right but failing. All she could hear was scuffling, solid blows finding their target, a man swearing then shouting out a warning, the sound of gunfire.

"Zee," she called out again, afraid.

A hand clamped over Christie's mouth. "Quiet and you won't get hurt."

Fred!

He turned her so her back was toward him, and held her. She shuddered as his body pressed against hers, but at least now she 326 could see what was going on.

The lariat meant for Zee had been sliced to ribbons. Zee herself was intent on taking down the last of three attackers. Two were already disabledone was clutching his thigh, trying to staunch the flow of blood from a knife wound, the other was holding his privates, rocking and moaning high in his throat.

Smoke curled from Zee's Colts as she stalked toward the third man. His hand was bleeding, his own holster emptyChristie scanned the ground and spotted the revolver Zee must have shot out of his hand. As he backed, he tripped over one of the cases. Before he could regain his balance, Zee had darted forward and clipped his chin a resounding blow with a gun b.u.t.t. His eyes rolled up in his head and he toppled over backward.

Fred swore and tightened his grip on Christie.

Zee straightened and turned to face him, eyes glacial. "Let her go." She hefted the revolver in her right hand.

"Or what?" He tried to sound defiant, but Christie could smell the fear on him, hear it in his voice. "You wouldn't risk hurting her." He pulled Christie even closer.

"Wouldn't I?" Zee raised the gun, c.o.c.ked it, and took careful aim.

Christie's heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest, and she screwed her eyes tight shut. Then came a single deafening gunshot. Fred yelped; his grip on her disappeared; the lariat loosened and dropped away; and Christie realized she was still in the land of the living.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Zee's concerned face gazing at her. She stepped out of the lariat, which had pooled around her feet, and staggered toward Zee.

"You all right?" A gloved hand steadied her.

Christie nodded and turned to look at Fred. He was kneeling, clutching his right shoulder, his shirtsleeve soaked with blood. Zee gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, then stalked over and looked down at him.

"Don't kill me." Fred looked terrified and close to tears.

"Don't intend to." Zee hauled him to his feet. "Up you get."

He gave her a confused look. "Why not? I would've killed you."

"Made a promise to someone." She winked at Christie, then reached for one of the sliced pieces of lariat and began to bind his hands. "Reckon you musta been missing the day they gave out brains, 327.

Younger," she continued. "Your pa and me made a deal to keep you out of the calaboose, but it seems you're bound and determined to end up there." Dismay warred with indignation on Fred's face. "It won't be for fraudgave my word on that. But you can't expect to bushwhack me and my lady and get away with it."

Fred's shoulders slumped. He was plainly no longer a threat, so Christie dismissed him from her thoughts and set about collecting her bags.

Zee looked up from tying up the rest of Fred's friends and smiled at her. "We'll drop these packages off at Milligan's, darlin'. Then we've got a train to catch."

Chapter 16.

Zee ran a finger round the inside of her collar. This is gonna chafe.

"Why'd you have to use so much starch?"

Christie turned from her position in front of the mirror. "It's a wedding, Zee. You have to look dressy for a wedding." She turned back to the mirror, smoothed the dress Julie Fontenot had helped her make over her hips, and c.o.c.ked her head first to one side then the other. "Hair up or hair down?"

The question was clearly rhetorical so Zee ignored it. "Dressy, huh? Don't see why," she grumbled. She undid the shirt's top two b.u.t.tons, reached for a clean red bandanna, and tied it round her neck.

That should help.

Christie gathered up her hair and did something complicated involving hairpins. Zee could never be bothered with stuff like that it was one of the reasons she kept her own hair croppedbut she had to admit, the end result was worth it.

Christie jumped as Zee dipped her head and nibbled the enticing nape of her neck. "That tickles!"

"Ain't quite what I had in mind," mumbled Zee, reaching round and cupping Christie's b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She checked the blonde's reaction in the mirror. Christie's lips were parted, her eyelids closed, the long lashes pale against flushed skin. With a grin Zee continued her attentions, sucking a tender earlobe, stroking the generous curves she could feel beneath the fabric.

Christie recollected herself and shook Zee off. "Not now. We'll be late."

"Some things are worth being late for." But Christie avoided her reaching hands and wagged her finger at her. She sighed and backed off.

329.

On the bed lay the embroidered waistcoat Hogan had lent Zee. She slipped it on and b.u.t.toned it up. It was a bit loose on her, and too fancy for her taste, but still . . .

"You look nice." Christie had finished with her hair and was regarding Zee with a critical eye. "There's a spot on the toe of your right boot."

She made to rub it off on the back of her Levi's.

"Not on your clean trousers!"

Zee rolled her eyes, reached for a dirty bandanna, and bent to remove the offending mud. "That better?" She straightened and let Christie circle her.

Christie finished her inspection, smiled, and nodded. "You'll do."

Zee let out a sigh of relief.

They had got back from Contention the day before, and, after dropping off their luggage at the Old Barn and retrieving their horses from the Shaws, headed over to Angie's Palace to see how Blue and Jenny were getting on. There, Angie greeted them with a broad smile, the news that Blue had managed to get a wedding license, and an embossed invitation to the happy couple's wedding on the morrow when the marrying squire was due.

Zee received the news tranquilly. She'd been to quite a few weddings in her time. The ceremonies were quickly over, and she always enjoyed the celebrations that followed. This state of happy antic.i.p.ation lasted until Christie told her in no uncertain terms that she must dress for the occasion.

She sighed and looked for her hat, from which Christie had sponged the worst of the dirt. It was on the dresser. She crammed it on her head then looked at herself in the mirror.

"See," said Christie from behind her. "You can look quite presentable when you try."

Still not sure about the waistcoat, Zee grunted. A smack on her bottom startled her out of her introspection. "Hey!"

"Come on, handsome," said Christie. "Time to see my brother make an honest woman of Jenny."

GIF.

Zee surveyed her surroundings with interest. Angie had closed up the Palace for the day and transformed her largest reception room for 330 the wedding. The card tables had been stacked away or were lined up at the side, draped beneath pretty tablecloths and awaiting the arrival of the buffet Hattie was preparing in the kitchen. Most of the ornate gold mirrors had been covered. Which was more than could be said for the wh.o.r.es. Even done up in their Sunday best, their dresses were cut far too low.

She smirked at the sight of them mingling with more respectable folks. Their profession was all too obvious. As was that of the black habit-clad nuns. Sister Florence had brought a few of her Sisters of Charity with herthey were apparently looking forward to the day out. It was just as well Jenny's parents hadn't been invited to the wedding, mused Zee. (It was thought best to present them with a fait accompli.) They would have had a fit.

"Blue looks terrified." Christie was eyeing the forlorn figure standing at the front.

"Can't imagine why."

"Suppose Jenny changes her mind?" Christie was too agitated to register Zee's irony. "Suppose she jilts him at the altar?"

"Well, for one thing," said Zee, "there ain't no altar. And for another, in her condition? Ain't likely. I'm just hoping she don't give birth during the ceremony."

Christie put her hands on her hips and glared at Zee who chuckled. It was so much fun teasing her. "It'll be all right, darlin'," she soothed. "You'll see."

The entrance doors swung open and every head turned. Sheriff Hogan was wearing a fancy new waistcoat. With him was a bandy-legged little man wearing a black sombrero and shabby chaps. A murmur went round the room.