bout of consumption. Heaviness tugged at Christy’s heart, and worry gnawed at her stomach. Had she ever heard of anyone recovering from a case as bad as Ma’s?
She shook off the thought. No sense in borrowing trouble. Making another trip to see Doctor Goodfellow would be her first order of business. “Joshua has a good head on his shoulders, Ma. He’ll be home as soon as he works out his grief.”
Ma needed medicine and proper care, and Christy planned to get it, whatever the cost. Too bad she hadn’t thought about it when the doc tended to her arm.
A tap sounded at the door, and Christy turned her head. Joshua wouldn’t knock, and they hadn’t ordered anything. Her trunk had already been delivered the day before. She pushed to her feet and glanced at her mother, but she only shrugged.
A peek out the window revealed Marshal Sippy waiting outside, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. Christy hesitated, then pushed open the door. “Good morning. I’d ask you in, but my mother isn’t well.”
He swept off his hat and tucked it under his arm. “No problem, Miss Grey. I’m sorry to intrude, but I had another couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”
She stepped outside and eased the door shut behind her. “I suppose I can spare a moment or two.”
A wagon rumbled past, heavily loaded with silver ore, the long team of mules straining at the harness. Her eyes followed what must surely be another prosperous find as it disappeared down Toughnut Street. If only she had a small portion of what they brought from the mines, her mother could have proper care. Maybe Josh wouldn’t even feel the need to gamble if they lived in a nicer home and didn’t have to scratch for everything. An instant later she shook off the thought as useless, knowing they’d never achieve anything close to wealth in her lifetime.
“Miss Grey?” Marshal Sippy shifted his weight from one boot-clad foot to the other. “About those questions?”
“I’m sorry.” Christy turned back to the man.
“Your arm. Is it improved today?”
“Yes, I’m happy to say it’s better. Still painful, but not bothering me quite as much.”
“Good. Now, on to the reason I’m here. I’d like to get a description of the man who bound your wound during the holdup.”
Christy crossed her arms over her chest. “Like I told you before, Marshal, I can’t do that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“All right then, won’t.” She met his eyes squarely. “I made a promise, and I’m a woman of my word.”
A startled expression crossed the marshal’s face. “What kind of promise would that be, if I may be so bold?”
“He told me if he took off his mask to tend my arm, I had to promise not to betray his identity to the law. Of course, I had no idea who the man was and couldn’t give you a name, regardless. Any number of men have the same build and hair color. So I can’t see a description would do you much good, even if I was willing to break my word and give it to you, which I’m not.”
“I see.” His shrewd eyes assessed her, and he seemed to come to a decision. “I suppose you won’t tell me if you’ve spotted him, or any other men from the outlaw band, since you’ve been in town.”
She shook her head decisively. “No sir, I will not.” She hesitated. “But I’ll not withhold any information about the others who took part. I can honestly say I’ve not seen them since it happened.”
“I appreciate that, but why are you willing to protect a criminal? No one will think worse of you if you don’t keep your word to a man who held up the stage.” He gestured at her arm. “Not to mention shooting you.”
Christy frowned, not caring for the direction the conversation was taking and determined to set the marshal straight. “He wasn’t there when the shooting happened and had nothing to do with it. I saw him come out of the brush after the stage halted
She shook off the thought. No sense in borrowing trouble. Making another trip to see Doctor Goodfellow would be her first order of business. “Joshua has a good head on his shoulders, Ma. He’ll be home as soon as he works out his grief.”
Ma needed medicine and proper care, and Christy planned to get it, whatever the cost. Too bad she hadn’t thought about it when the doc tended to her arm.
A tap sounded at the door, and Christy turned her head. Joshua wouldn’t knock, and they hadn’t ordered anything. Her trunk had already been delivered the day before. She pushed to her feet and glanced at her mother, but she only shrugged.
A peek out the window revealed Marshal Sippy waiting outside, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. Christy hesitated, then pushed open the door. “Good morning. I’d ask you in, but my mother isn’t well.”
He swept off his hat and tucked it under his arm. “No problem, Miss Grey. I’m sorry to intrude, but I had another couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”
She stepped outside and eased the door shut behind her. “I suppose I can spare a moment or two.”
A wagon rumbled past, heavily loaded with silver ore, the long team of mules straining at the harness. Her eyes followed what must surely be another prosperous find as it disappeared down Toughnut Street. If only she had a small portion of what they brought from the mines, her mother could have proper care. Maybe Josh wouldn’t even feel the need to gamble if they lived in a nicer home and didn’t have to scratch for everything. An instant later she shook off the thought as useless, knowing they’d never achieve anything close to wealth in her lifetime.
“Miss Grey?” Marshal Sippy shifted his weight from one boot-clad foot to the other. “About those questions?”
“I’m sorry.” Christy turned back to the man.
“Your arm. Is it improved today?”
“Yes, I’m happy to say it’s better. Still painful, but not bothering me quite as much.”
“Good. Now, on to the reason I’m here. I’d like to get a description of the man who bound your wound during the holdup.”
Christy crossed her arms over her chest. “Like I told you before, Marshal, I can’t do that.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“All right then, won’t.” She met his eyes squarely. “I made a promise, and I’m a woman of my word.”
A startled expression crossed the marshal’s face. “What kind of promise would that be, if I may be so bold?”
“He told me if he took off his mask to tend my arm, I had to promise not to betray his identity to the law. Of course, I had no idea who the man was and couldn’t give you a name, regardless. Any number of men have the same build and hair color. So I can’t see a description would do you much good, even if I was willing to break my word and give it to you, which I’m not.”
“I see.” His shrewd eyes assessed her, and he seemed to come to a decision. “I suppose you won’t tell me if you’ve spotted him, or any other men from the outlaw band, since you’ve been in town.”
She shook her head decisively. “No sir, I will not.” She hesitated. “But I’ll not withhold any information about the others who took part. I can honestly say I’ve not seen them since it happened.”
“I appreciate that, but why are you willing to protect a criminal? No one will think worse of you if you don’t keep your word to a man who held up the stage.” He gestured at her arm. “Not to mention shooting you.”
Christy frowned, not caring for the direction the conversation was taking and determined to set the marshal straight. “He wasn’t there when the shooting happened and had nothing to do with it. I saw him come out of the brush after the stage halted
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