Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (36 page)

Alex tiptoed into the parlor, not certain if Christy slept. She found Toby standing next to the woman, patting her face. “You still got a owie?”

Christy grasped his hand and planted a kiss on his fingers. “Yes, but it’s getting better.” Gripping the back of the sofa, she strained to pull herself into a sitting position.

Alex rushed forward. “You’ve got to ask for help when you want to sit up. You’re going to hurt yourself worse if you try to do everything alone.”

“You’ve done enough. You shouldn’t wait on me all the time. I’m sure you have other things to do.” Christy allowed Alex to wrap her arm around her shoulder and help her.

Alex sank onto the firm brocade surface beside Christy. “Uncle Joe’s taking care of the ranch business, and the men know their jobs without a lot of direction. I’m just happy you’re regaining some strength.”

“Yeah. I’ll be out of your way soon and back at the saloon.” Bitterness gave a hollow sound to her voice.

Alex wrapped her arm around Toby’s waist and pulled him close. “Uncle Joe’s in the kitchen and he’ll read you a story.” She patted the small boy’s back and shooed him toward the door then turned her attention to Christy. “Martha and I have been talking, and we don’t want you to rush off. Consider this your home for as long as you need it.”

Christy turned wide eyes on Alex. “Why in the world…? I don’t understand you people. I’d think you’d be glad to have me off your property.”

Alex bit her lip, wondering how much to say. Would Christy even listen? She’d never been good at sharing her faith, but her recent decision to turn everything over to God nudged her forward. “If it weren’t for the Lord, we might be.”

Christy’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re admitting it? You wish you’d never invited me.”

“Not at all.” Alex shook her head and clasped her hands in her lap. “I said if it weren’t for the Lord—He makes all the difference. Does that make sense?”

Christy’s lip curled. “No, it doesn’t. Church people have been my biggest critics, said some of the cruelest things. Why would God make a difference in how
you
see me?”

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt by people who call themselves Christians. They’re either ignorant or they don’t have an understanding of God’s love. Whatever the case, they aren’t allowing God’s grace to shine in their lives.” She leaned forward and locked her gaze on Christy’s. “He loves you so much that He died to make sure you wouldn’t perish. He wants to help you—and He wants us to show His love to you.”

Christy’s eyes dropped and her shoulders slumped. “He’d never love me. You have no idea what I am—what I’ve been.”

Alex touched her hand. “It doesn’t matter. He forgave and accepted thieves, prostitutes, murderers, and more—all that matters is your willingness to accept His love.”

Christy stared into Alex’s eyes, her expression grave. “I’d like to be loved like that—but I don’t think it would work for me.”

“I’ve known all my life that God loves me, and I still struggle.”

“You?” Christy raised wide eyes.

“Yes. A couple of weeks ago I asked forgiveness for not trusting Him and for allowing bitterness to fester.”

Christy nodded slowly. “And He forgave you?”

“Yes. I don’t know how to explain it, but an amazing peace enters your heart when you accept that forgiveness.”

Christy sat with her head resting against the back of the sofa. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much for caring enough to talk. I want to believe what you said, really I do.”

Alex braced her hand against the arm of the sofa and stood. “I’ll be praying for you.” She touched Christy’s curls then drew back. “You won’t be sorry if you choose to believe and accept God’s love.”

Three weeks had passed since Christy’s accident, and her strength had continued to grow. Martha and Joe took a much-needed break and headed to town for supplies. They’d hesitated to leave Toby, but Christy had insisted that her ribs had healed sufficiently and that she could watch him. Even Justin hadn’t objected. He, Alexia, Davis, Frank, and a couple of the other hands were on the far side of the ranch rounding up the mares with foals born earlier in the spring.

Christy snuggled into the cushions of the sofa, her feet propped on a nearby ottoman and her ears tuned for Toby. A board creaked in the entry near the base of the stairs and she perked her ears. “Toby? Come in and Christy will read you a book.”

Nothing. Had she imagined the sound? “Toby—I need you to come in here.” She tipped her head and listened but heard only the sigh of the wind outside in the fir trees. It must’ve been the old house settling and groaning.

Her head nestled against the back of the sofa and her hands relaxed on the pillow cradled on her lap. Justin had given Toby strict instructions to come straight to the parlor upon awakening, and the little boy rarely disobeyed his papa. Besides, he’d been begging for another story when put down for his nap, and only the promise of more when he woke had sent him off without protest.

She swung her feet up onto the sofa and stretched out full length. Her eyes grew heavy and she allowed them to drift shut. The strain of sitting for so long had set off a dull throb under her ribs. A few minutes’ nap while Toby slept might do her good.

A fly zipped past her nose, buzzed her again, and landed on her cheek. She kept her eyes closed but roused enough to slap at the pesky insect. “Go away.” A drowsy dreaminess settled in and she sank a little deeper into the pillow.

A rough hand slapped her cheek then covered her mouth. “Keep still.”

Shock screamed through Christy’s mind and her eyes flew open. She struggled against the tightening grip and fought to breathe.

The leering face of Dick Sanders leaned close. “Not a word, or I’ll kill the kid.”

Toby. He knew Toby was here. Her back stiffened and she lay still, but she couldn’t quite stop the trembling that seized her hands.

“Anyone else here?” He hissed the words close to her ear and loosened his grip over her mouth.

“No.” She moved her head to the side, hoping to escape the suffocating stench of that hand.

“Get up, and don’t try to scream or run.” His hard eyes locked on hers, sending a chill down her back. “Where’s the kid?”

Christy’s thoughts raced upstairs to the small boy she’d come to love. “He went with Martha and Joe to town.”

Sanders smacked her with the back of his hand and Christy tasted blood on the inside of her cheek. “Don’t lie. I watched them pull out and he wasn’t there.” He jerked his head toward the door. “He upstairs?”

Once more the hand raised and Christy flinched. “Why do you want Toby?”

“He’s insurance, my dear. He’ll accomplish what you weren’t able to.”

“You’re trying to hurt Justin. Why? What’s he done to you?”

His harsh laugh rang in the small room. “What hasn’t he done? He claimed what was mine when he married Molly.”

“You threw her away! She cried buckets over you, and you didn’t return. Why would it matter to you that she married Justin?”

His mouth twisted into a snarl. “What’s mine remains mine—forever. I’m not in the habit of sharing. He kept you from doing the job I assigned—you in love with him, too?”

Christy’s laugh sounded hollow, even to her own ears. “Hardly. He has eyes for one person—Alexia. No decent man would look twice at a woman like me.”

Sanders reached out a finger and drew it down her cheek. She snapped her head back, feeling as though he’d branded her with an iron drawn from the deepest red embers. His hand snaked out and he gripped the back of her neck. He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Don’t pull away from me.” A finger traced its way down her cheek again. “I’ve looked at you more than twice.”

She recoiled but didn’t jerk from his touch. “I’d never marry you.”

A deep chortle broke from his lips. “I said nothing about marriage. That’s reserved for little girls like Alexia who own land, horses, and gold—not tramps like you. No—women like you are good for only one thing.”

The open door leading into the parlor drifted open another foot. “Christy?” Toby stood in the doorway holding the knitted blanket Martha had made him. “Want my story now, ’kay?”

Sanders drew in a sharp breath. He placed the palm of his hand on Christy’s chest and shoved, hard.

Her side struck the edge of the small table next to the sofa and she hit the floor. A shaft of pain shot through her chest and radiated down her arms, clear to the tips of her fingers. The ribs that were just beginning to heal throbbed, but she managed to roll over and prop herself on the palm of her hand. “Toby. Come to Christy.”

The little boy put his thumb in his mouth and stared from Sanders to Christy.

Sanders’s frozen stance suddenly thawed and he leaped for the boy. “No, you don’t. You come to Papa.” He swept the sleepy boy up in his arms with a triumphant grin.

Toby braced his hands against the large man’s chest and strained to get free. “You not my papa. My papa workin’.”

Christy stared at Sanders. The leering grin changed to a gloating, almost crazed smile. Had Toby’s answer pushed the man over the edge? “Justin Phillips is his pa, and you know it. You sent me to lie to Miss Travers about Justin’s marriage to Molly, but you can’t pull that on me. I know they were married because she told me.”

He turned a burning gaze her way. “Oh, they were married all right. What she didn’t tell you was that Justin married her
after
she was with child, not before.”

Christy held her burning side with one hand and pulled herself to her knees. “My sister wasn’t loose.”

His laughter barked and Toby started to cry. He clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth. “Shut up, kid.”

The wails ceased and Toby’s eyes widened. He held out his hands to Christy and whimpered. “Christy hold Toby?”

She shook her head and tried to smile. “Just be good, Toby, and don’t cry. I’ll read you a story later if you’ll be quiet, all right?”

Toby nodded but his lower lip trembled.

Sanders took a long step toward the door. “Tell Alexia she gets one chance to save the boy. She marries me and sends Phillips packing and I’ll release him. Not that I’d have to—seeing as he’s
my
son.”

Christy gaped at the man and finally found her voice. “You’re lying. Molly would have never…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at his face. The man had lied many times in the past, but this time she sensed he’d spoken the truth. A burning lump of bile rose in her throat and threatened to spill out. She placed her hand over her mouth and retched.

“That’s right—
my son.
” His sneering voice filled her ears. “Molly loved me, you know. She told me so, over and over. I’ll give her credit, though; she wasn’t easy. I had to work hard to convince her we’d be married the next day. If you don’t believe me, ask Alexia what my middle name is. It’s an old family name. Molly named the boy after me.”

Christy wiped a shaking hand across her lips and came away with a bloodstain. “Why would Alexia want to marry you? She doesn’t even know you.”

“Oh, but she does, my dear. Just tell her that Carter Foster stopped by and extended his offer one last time. She’ll understand.” He slipped out the door. Toby’s whimpers drifted back, lifted to a wail, and then mixed with the sound of hoofbeats heading down the lane.

Christy didn’t care that she’d gotten hurt—right now she welcomed a little pain. If only she hadn’t got caught in this mess. If only she hadn’t taken money from that man when necessity had pressed her. If only she’d kept her mouth shut when she’d needed someone to talk to and hadn’t told him her worry about her sister’s child—then Toby would be safe.

Shame and sorrow engulfed her, and she wept.

Alexia drew her horse to a stop in front of the house and stepped down from the saddle. What a long day—only two hours until sunset. Most days she loved to spend riding, but today she ached all over. Trailing horses into the deep canyons and pushing them out was treacherous work. She’d sent Justin, Frank, and the rest of the men in pairs to some of the steeper canyon country, and she’d covered the end of Deadwood Canyon alone. More than likely the rest of the hands wouldn’t return until well after dark, if then. The two pairs farthest from the ranch would spend the night if they didn’t get out of the canyon prior to dusk.