Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona (15 page)

Leslie snatched the bill out of Nevada’s extended hand. “Not tonight, she ain’t. You come back another time, and we’ll set you up.”

“No, sir. I demand my rights.”

“Now ain’t that funny? Your rights, huh?” Leslie wrenched Sara out of his grasp. “Charlie?”

A burly man stepped forward out of the shadows. “Yeah, boss?”

“How about you escort this gentleman to the door?”

“Sure, boss.” Charlie pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and grinned. “Be happy to.”

“Now wait a moment. You can’t treat me this way!” The blustering protest was cut off by a shove to the center of his back.

“Out you go, mister.” The strong-armed man collared the customer around the neck and forced him toward the door.

“How about my money?” the customer whined.

“We’ll hold it for you till you come again. Or if you care to behave yourself, we might allow you to visit one of our other girls.”

“But I want Sara!” The man wrenched out of his captor’s grip and turned fierce eyes on Leslie.

“Too bad. She’s done spoken for tonight.” Leslie rolled the ten-dollar bill in his fingers and grinned. “Don’t be such a bad sport. Tell you what. You keep hollerin’, and Charlie here will toss you out in the street. You behave yourself, and I might set you up with a drink on the house.”

“Only one?”

Leslie’s grin faded. “Maybe you’d prefer the street.”

The man shook his head. “I’d appreciate that drink very kindly.” He shook free of the hand gripping his arm.

“Good enough.” Leslie motioned to his employee. “Tell the bartender to pour our friend a whiskey.” He turned toward Nevada and beckoned to Sara. “She’s all yours, mister. For an hour. You want her longer, you’ll have to pay double.”

“How much for the night?” Nevada glanced at the retreating form of the disgruntled customer.

“We don’t usually allow gentlemen to spend the night with our girls.” He eyed the roll cradled in Nevada’s hand. “But maybe this once…”

Nevada grunted and pressed a wad of bills into the eager man’s hand, then turned toward Sara. “Want to show me your room, darlin’?” He hated the pretense, but saving this girl for even one night made it worthwhile.

He knew from his sister’s experience that many of these girls and women fell into the trap of prostitution when they had no other options, while others chose the lifestyle for the amount of money it brought. He imagined Sara to be one who’d not had a chance. She certainly hadn’t seemed too happy at the request to entertain yet another visitor in her room.

She turned an apprehensive gaze his way and took a half step back. “I’m—I’m awful tired.”

Frank Leslie let out a roar and sprang forward, raising his hand. “This man paid good money for your time. No more bellyachin’, you hear?”

Nevada stepped between them and gave a disarming smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll show her who’s boss.”

He took Sara’s arm and drew her within his embrace, then turned and ushered her up the stairs. Hair prickled on the back of his neck. He felt eyes watching his exit. As he turned to scan the room, his gut clenched into a knot. Christy Grey stood beside Gordon Townsley, his arm casually draped across her shoulders.

A shudder passed over Christy as Nevada followed Sara up the stairs. His eyes had mirrored a flash of shock before he headed up behind her. Had he felt guilty she’d caught him in the act of accompanying a girl to her room? Disappointment sat like a lump of sourdough in her stomach, but she shoved it away. Nevada’s choices were none of her concern, but she hurt just the same. Of course, she’d started to grow attached to Sara and hated seeing the young girl used in such a fashion, so her feelings had little to do with the handsome cowboy.

It took several seconds before she awoke to Townsley’s arm draped across her shoulder. Reaching up, she shoved it off and stepped away from Townsley’s side. “If this is the way you plan to act, Mr. Townsley, then I don’t care to take the job after all.”

An emotion bordering on irritation lit his features before it was replaced with calm agreement. He nodded. “As you wish, Christy. It’s all right if I call you that? We don’t stand on ceremony here, and our patrons like to use the Christian names of our employees.”

She hesitated, then slowly gave one nod. “Fine. But I’ll not have men handling me, or it will be a very short term of employment.”

His eyes narrowed for the briefest of moments before a wide smile stretched his lips. “I think that’s what drew me to you in the first place, my dear—your strong spirit. You didn’t wail or carry on even though you’d been shot and were in obvious pain. Now you come in here like a queen and start setting the rules.” He gave a sharp bark of a laugh. “I like that, I surely do.” He touched her arm and gestured toward the roulette wheel. “That’s where you’ll be working. Do you think you can handle the men who play here without too much trouble?”

Christy fell into step beside him, her gaze trained on the spinning wheel. “I’m familiar with the game, but I’m concerned about the men. You said Doc Holliday or Wyatt keep an eye on things, correct?”

“Yes, and I assure you, nothing will happen. I’d like you to start tomorrow afternoon. Does that work for you?”

“Yes.” She noticed three more scantily clad women serving drinks to the patrons. “How many girls do you have working, and do they all live here?”

His eyes focused intently on her. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “I like to get acquainted with my surroundings so I can do a good job. You know, in case a gentleman inquires after one of the ladies.” The words tasted sour on her tongue, but she forced them out anyway. Her meeting on the street with the blond Sara had left an impression of a young woman working hard to cover a life of pain and confusion. Well she knew the plight of these women, and she intended to uncover all she could about the “ladies” who worked here.

“Ah, I see.” He gave a sly smile. “You don’t seem the type to be interested in their profession.” He swept a probing gaze over her face and allowed it to drop a few inches before returning to meet her eyes. “Unless I miscalculated, my dear.”

Christy took a step back and frowned. “No, you did not, and I’m sorry I asked.”

“No need, and I apologize for the insinuation. Please, let’s start over, shall we?” Gordon tipped his head toward a table. “We serve excellent coffee and sandwiches.”

“Thank you, but I really must get home to my mother and brother.” She plunged back into the subject still close to her heart. “I met a young woman named Sara. Has she worked here long?”

Townsley’s expression smoothed and he turned away, but not before Christy recognized an emotion common to his sort burning there. Lust. If Sara had caught the man’s eye, she could be in more danger than Christy realized.

Nevada dragged a hard chair from the vicinity of Sara’s bed and planted it in front of the door, then sank onto it, keeping his eyes fixed on the agitated young woman standing in the far corner. “I’m not going to hurt you, Miss.”

A hollow laugh broke from her throat. “Sure. That’s what they all say. Somehow I thought you were different. I guess I was wrong.”

“I’m staying right here and not moving.”

Nevada eyed the girl, sick to his stomach at what she must be going through. Fear, apprehension, and disgust all flitted across her expressive features. How many men had entered this room with less than honorable intentions? He’d itched to throw a gun on Frank Leslie earlier and take Sara out of this mess. At the least, he’d like to throttle Gordon Townsley within an inch of his life for forcing this kind of life on any young woman.

“What do you mean, stayin’ there? What do you want from me?” She grew even more agitated.

“Nothing,” he said calmly. “If you want to sleep, I’ll sit here and make sure no one disturbs you.” He folded his arms across his chest and tipped the chair onto its back legs, hoping to put her at ease.

“But you paid to spend the night with me.”

“Yeah, so I did. And that’s what I aim to do, right here in this chair.” A gentle smile curved the corners of his lips. “You can do whatever you see fit.”

A
whoosh
of air left Sara’s lungs, and she collapsed onto the edge of the bed. A tear trickled down her cheek, then she dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. “Why? You don’t know me. Why would you care?”

The question set Nevada back. How much should he tell her? It only took a second to decide honesty might be the best route if he hoped to convince her of his good intentions. Otherwise, she’d probably lie awake all night figuring he’d change his mind. “I guess partly because you remind me so much of my little sister.”

Sara sniffled and stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“She ran away from home when she was about your age and ended up in a similar situation. I found her and took her back home. Thankfully, she’s married and happy now, but it could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“So you paid Frank extra to spend the night with me because of your sister?” Sara’s eyes clouded with confusion.

“Yeah. And because I didn’t think you cared to spend an hour in the company of the man I outbid.” He gave a rueful smile. “’Course, you might not want to spend it in mine, either, but I don’t aim to take advantage of you.”

“I see.” Her tense shoulders relaxed. “I’ve never met anybody like you. Except maybe…” Her features took on a dreamy quality for a moment. “There was a young man who used to come in…”

“Ah.” Nevada nodded. “He doesn’t anymore?”

“No. He got shot awhile back, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Nevada let the legs of the chair thump onto the floor. “Was he gambling when it happened?”

“Yes. The other man pulled a gun under the table, but they said it was a fair fight. I never heard if he died or not.”

“He didn’t.”

She leaned forward. “You know him?”

“I do. His name is Joshua Grey.”

“Grey. I’ve heard that name before.”

“Yes,” Nevada said, “he has a sister who came to town a few weeks ago.”

Her expression cleared. “I wondered. I didn’t realize she was his sister. She stopped and spoke to me on the street. Right out in the open where people could see and she didn’t even mind.” A shake of her head sent the blond curls bobbing up and down. “Most ladies in this town go out of their way to walk around me, but not her.”

Nevada didn’t answer, but warmth crept through his body and penetrated his heart. Somehow the knowledge of Christy’s kindness to this girl didn’t surprise him at all.

Christy arrived at work the next afternoon, dreading the thought of starting this job. She couldn’t get the image of Nevada walking behind the young saloon girl out of her mind and had barely slept last night.

Her gaze swept the room, praying he wouldn’t be here. Should she go straight to the roulette wheel and announce herself to the person manning it, or find Townsley first? Straightening her shoulders, she marched around a table of men playing poker, sweeping her full skirt out of the path of a slightly inebriated man tottering toward her. The last thing she needed was someone stepping on her hem or spilling his drink on her second-best dress.

She neared the roulette table and waited, glancing around. No sign of Nevada, but none of Townsley either.

“Miss Grey?” A hand touched her arm.

Christy jumped and turned.

Doc Holliday stood close by, wearing a serious expression. “Mr. Townsley is in his office and asked me to escort you there.”

“Good. I was hoping he’d be here.” She followed him through the crowd toward a back corner under the stairs and waited while he rapped on a closed door.

“Come in.” Townsley’s voice penetrated the wood.

Holliday gripped the knob and swung open the door, then turned to go.

“Thank you.” Christy’s soft tone halted him midstride.

He smiled, then disappeared into the melee of men.

She stepped over the threshold but left the door ajar. “I’m ready to start work, Mr. Townsley.”

A cloud swept across his face. “It’s Gordon, remember?”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood and came forward. His eyes traveled over the modest, dark-blue gown with pearl buttons running up to the simple collar, and ruffles at the wrist. “I’ll require one adjustment before you start.”

She looked down at her clothing, her heart sinking. In the years she’d worked in saloons she’d never seen any of the women dressed like this, but she’d hoped her new boss might allow her a little decency. “I won’t dress the way your other girls do, so don’t bother to ask. It invites undue attention from men I’d prefer to avoid.”

“I understand, but I can’t have you dressed like some school-marm, either. We’ll have to come to an agreement if you plan to work for me.” He stepped out of the office and beckoned to a young woman with light blond hair walking by with a tray of drinks balanced on the palm of her hand. “Sara. Get those to your customers and come right back. I have a job for you.”

Her skin drained of color. “It’s too early to take anyone upstairs, Mr. Townsley. I just started working, and it’s only the dinner hour.”

His expression tightened. “You misunderstand. I simply want you to take Miss Grey…er, Christy…up, and show her one of our more modest gowns.”

Sara’s gaze shot to Christy. “Oh. Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Christy’s heart sank. This was the girl she’d tried to befriend and the one who’d gone upstairs last night with Nevada. It was obvious Sara was shocked to see her and probably wondered why she’d fallen so low as to take a job at this place. Right at the moment she wondered the same. Her fingers trembled, and she curled them into a fist, hoping to still them. All she wanted was to walk out the door and not look back.

A few minutes later Sara returned. “I’m ready to go now, Mr. Townsley.”

“Fine.” He turned to Christy. “And please let your hair down.” He held up a hand as Christy opened her mouth to protest. “I’m allowing you to work the roulette wheel and wear modest clothing. Humor me by wearing your hair down.”

It wasn’t a request but rather a firm command. His eyes didn’t hold even the hint of a smile.

Christy’s hackles rose. She’d been told what to do too many times by saloon owners and managers and had learned to hate it. But Ma and Joshua’s faces rushed to her memory, along with the cupboards bereft of food. “I suppose I can do that.”