Part 6 (1/2)

”Take your time, son. I ain't going anywhere.” She crossed to a hay bale, plucked a suitable wisp from it, perched on the bale, and began to chew.

Wouldn't have worked anyway. She'd have wanted everything steady and respectable, and I'd have gone loco. Zee sighed. Sure would have been nice to steal a kiss or two from those pretty lips though.

44.

Hooves clopped nearer, pulling her from her reverie, and she got to her feet and waited for the boy.

GIF.

”What did she give you?” asked Blue.

Christie looked up. ”Pardon?”

She and her brother were alone in the parlor. Fred was in the back yard, watering his horse, and, from the sound of his cursing, making a mess of it. He hadn't taken Zee's parting shot wellin fact he would probably call her out, next time he saw her . . . if there ever was a next time. After all, Arizona was a huge territory, and since Zee hadn't mentioned where she was based . . .

The thought of not seeing Zee again brought an ache to Christie's chest.

”What was in the sack?” prompted Blue again.

”Oh.” Christie had forgotten all about it. She rose and crossed to the table where the little burlap sack lay still unopened.

She untied the drawstring, then opened the neck and peered inside.

Its contents looked unpromising. She reached in and pulled out a palm full of ancient, dusty looking seeds, brown bulbs, and wizened roots.

”Oh,” she repeated, sorting through them with one finger. Desert Lilies, Poppies, Marigolds, Verbena, and . . . what is that? Ah, yes, Penstemons, and . . .

Blue was frowning at her.

”Flowers,” she explained, holding out the treasure trove for his inspection. ”She must have gotten them in Yuma.”

He gave her a dubious look. ”I dunno, Sis. Seems a lot of effort and a lot of water just to make a few flowers grow”

”And worth every drop.” Zee's thoughtfulness was threatening to bring a lump to Christie's throat, and she fought for control.

A sound in the doorway made her look up. A disheveled-looking Fredhe'd spilled water all over his new check trouserswas standing there. She poured Zee's gift back into the sack and put it down.

He wouldn't appreciate what it meant to her, so no point in mention-ing it.

He stopped beside Blue and whispered something. Her brother beamed, glanced at her, then nodded.

45.

”I need to go to the store,” he said. ”I'm expecting a delivery of cloth this afternoon. You'll be all right on your own?”

Christie knew immediately that something was up . . . and she had a sinking feeling she also knew what it was. Zee's visit had been the catalyst, she supposed dully. Fred had suddenly realized that someone might steal Christie away from him.

Steal? she chided herself. Don't exaggerate. But as she pondered the question, she was shocked, and a little excited, to realize that if Zee had asked her to go with her, she would have seriously considered it. There was something magnetic about the deputy. But that's all over now.

”Christie.” Fred came toward her and took her unresisting hand in his. ”You and I have known each other for several months now.”

Unable to speak, she nodded.

”I have spoken to your brother. He tells me he has no objections to our getting married. So now I'm asking you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

If he had asked her that question an hour ago . . . But now . . . The room felt claustrophobic, lacking air. Giddiness overtook her.

”Are you all right?” Fred's voice came as though from a great distance.

”I don't feel” Then his arms were around her, supporting her, helping her to a chair.

”You see, this is exactly why you need someone to take care of you, Christie. Let me be the one, my dear. Say yes.”

Her giddiness was receding. As she stared at him, at the ridiculous Vand.y.k.e beard that he thought made him look so das.h.i.+ng, she felt a twinge of affection. Perhaps in time she could learn to love him.

After all, what else was there?

”Yes, Fred,” she murmured. ”I will be your wife.”

”My dear. My own.” He pressed her hand to his lips.

GIF.

It was nightfall when Zee rode into Benson, tired, hungry for something other than beef jerky, and in need of a bath.

Main Street was already bustling with miners, cowboys, and railroad men, all spruced up the best they could manage, all looking for a good time. And since the rapidly growing town now boasted three 46 saloons, a brothel, a gambling den, and a dancehall, the odds were they would find it.

She pa.s.sed the Last Chance Saloon and headed toward the jail, where it was inevitable that some of the men would end up. As she came abreast of Angie's Palace, two of the scantily clad girls leaned over the balcony railing.

”Hey, Brodie,” called the smaller one, Clubfoot Liz. ”Glad to have you back.”

”You ready for a little action?” called the other, known as Red Mary because (as Zee could testify) her hair was red all over.

She tipped her hat at the two wh.o.r.es and smiled. ”Give me a chance to wash some of this trail dust off first, will you?”