extended his arm. “Allow me to escort you?”
Christy shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. If you’d point it out, I’d be most appreciative.”
His eyes narrowed, and he touched the end of his small mustache. “Most assuredly, but I must insist on at least accompanying you. My name is Gordon Townsley, and I’m one of the managers at the Oriental.” He said the words as though they should have special meaning.
“The Oriental?” She didn’t smile. Men who were this forward didn’t need encouragement.
“One of the premiere establishments in our fair city.” He cleared his throat and offered his arm again. “Please, I insist. A lady like yourself could easily be accosted on this rowdy street. I’d hate to have anything untoward happen as you make your way there.”
Christy hesitated. She had no idea where the doctor’s office was located, or how to find her brother or mother. So far this man offered the only help in sight, and he’d given her no reason to spurn his assistance. She bobbed her head but didn’t touch the extended arm. “All right. I’d be grateful if you’d show me the way, Mr. Townsley.”
The corner of his chiseled lips quirked up, but no sense of warmth was conveyed. He lowered his arm and touched her shoulder, turning her slightly toward him. “Right this way.” He led her to the boardwalk running in front of a mercantile and assisted her as she stepped up. “What did you say your name is?”
“Miss Grey.”
He gave a slight start. “Grey. Any relation to Joshua Grey?”
Christy’s heart leapt. “Yes. You know my brother?”
“I do. He frequents my establishment on a regular basis. Likeable fellow, if a little prone to provoke a fight at times. Does he know you’re in town?”
“No. He sent for me, but I wasn’t sure when I’d arrive.” Her spirits sank at the realization this man’s business must be a gambling hall. “I’d be pleased if you could direct me to him.”
“I can’t say if he’s there now, mind you. But I’ll certainly be happy to show you the way to the Oriental after you finish at the doctor’s office.” He steered her around a throng of miners surging out the batwing doors of a saloon. Their loud laughter and coarse voices drifted back, along with the distinct odor of alcohol. “If I may be so bold as to ask?” He tipped his head toward the bandana knotted around her arm. “I see blood on that rag. What happened?”
“Our stage was attacked, and a stray bullet caught me in my arm. It’s no longer bleeding and no bones were broken, although I must admit there’s a bit of pain yet.”
His eyes widened. “I should think so. I’m amazed you haven’t swooned right at my feet. Why, you never even mentioned your discomfort.”
A flick of his wrist directed her attention to a sign up ahead. D OCTOR G OODFELLOW was emblazoned in deep-blue letters on a sanded slab of wood hanging above a window on the second floor of the Golden Eagle Brewery. “His office is upstairs.”
He directed her through a door and across to a staircase. “Most women I know would be screeching with pain or lamenting their experience.”
Christy shrugged. “Not much to be gained by that. It burns like fire, and I’ll be happy to have it cared for, but there’s no need to fuss over it.” No sense in letting this man see her anxiety. It would probably only encourage him. All she wanted was to get this arm tended to and find her family.
Admiration and something she couldn’t quite decipher lit his eyes. She turned her gaze away, suddenly uncomfortable with this neatly dressed, dapper man. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled above it. “Let me see if the doctor is here.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m able to take care of myself.” But her words fell on empty space as Townsley’s frock-coated form disappeared through another doorway leading toward the back of the building.
Solid footsteps echoed on the plank floor, and a man who
Christy shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. If you’d point it out, I’d be most appreciative.”
His eyes narrowed, and he touched the end of his small mustache. “Most assuredly, but I must insist on at least accompanying you. My name is Gordon Townsley, and I’m one of the managers at the Oriental.” He said the words as though they should have special meaning.
“The Oriental?” She didn’t smile. Men who were this forward didn’t need encouragement.
“One of the premiere establishments in our fair city.” He cleared his throat and offered his arm again. “Please, I insist. A lady like yourself could easily be accosted on this rowdy street. I’d hate to have anything untoward happen as you make your way there.”
Christy hesitated. She had no idea where the doctor’s office was located, or how to find her brother or mother. So far this man offered the only help in sight, and he’d given her no reason to spurn his assistance. She bobbed her head but didn’t touch the extended arm. “All right. I’d be grateful if you’d show me the way, Mr. Townsley.”
The corner of his chiseled lips quirked up, but no sense of warmth was conveyed. He lowered his arm and touched her shoulder, turning her slightly toward him. “Right this way.” He led her to the boardwalk running in front of a mercantile and assisted her as she stepped up. “What did you say your name is?”
“Miss Grey.”
He gave a slight start. “Grey. Any relation to Joshua Grey?”
Christy’s heart leapt. “Yes. You know my brother?”
“I do. He frequents my establishment on a regular basis. Likeable fellow, if a little prone to provoke a fight at times. Does he know you’re in town?”
“No. He sent for me, but I wasn’t sure when I’d arrive.” Her spirits sank at the realization this man’s business must be a gambling hall. “I’d be pleased if you could direct me to him.”
“I can’t say if he’s there now, mind you. But I’ll certainly be happy to show you the way to the Oriental after you finish at the doctor’s office.” He steered her around a throng of miners surging out the batwing doors of a saloon. Their loud laughter and coarse voices drifted back, along with the distinct odor of alcohol. “If I may be so bold as to ask?” He tipped his head toward the bandana knotted around her arm. “I see blood on that rag. What happened?”
“Our stage was attacked, and a stray bullet caught me in my arm. It’s no longer bleeding and no bones were broken, although I must admit there’s a bit of pain yet.”
His eyes widened. “I should think so. I’m amazed you haven’t swooned right at my feet. Why, you never even mentioned your discomfort.”
A flick of his wrist directed her attention to a sign up ahead. D OCTOR G OODFELLOW was emblazoned in deep-blue letters on a sanded slab of wood hanging above a window on the second floor of the Golden Eagle Brewery. “His office is upstairs.”
He directed her through a door and across to a staircase. “Most women I know would be screeching with pain or lamenting their experience.”
Christy shrugged. “Not much to be gained by that. It burns like fire, and I’ll be happy to have it cared for, but there’s no need to fuss over it.” No sense in letting this man see her anxiety. It would probably only encourage him. All she wanted was to get this arm tended to and find her family.
Admiration and something she couldn’t quite decipher lit his eyes. She turned her gaze away, suddenly uncomfortable with this neatly dressed, dapper man. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled above it. “Let me see if the doctor is here.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m able to take care of myself.” But her words fell on empty space as Townsley’s frock-coated form disappeared through another doorway leading toward the back of the building.
Solid footsteps echoed on the plank floor, and a man who
Similar Books
