Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona by Miralee Ferrell

the family and rarely exhibited much emotion other than anger when one of her children stepped out of line. To see her this way left Christy shaken and unsure. “All right. I’ll see if I can find something to fix for supper.”
    She moved away from the bed, wanting nothing more than to wash her hands. In fact, a bath sounded wonderful. Getting this house in order, bringing her trunk from the livery, and finding something to eat all pressed in at once. But first she’d better discover if there was a place to sleep.
    Christy wandered through the kitchen and into the small front room. A crude table shoved against one wall, a threadbare sofa, and an upright chair comprised the furnishings. Not even a rag rug covered the dirty wood floor. She grimaced. No way would she ever walk barefoot in this place. A movement in the kitchen caught her eye, and she turned. A long-tailed mouse skittered across the floor and disappeared in a hole at the base of a wall. Christy gritted her teeth. Or was it a rat? If so, thankfully it was a small one. She hated those filthy creatures. Securing a cat moved to the top of her list.
    A glance determined that the sofa would serve as a bed, but she sincerely hoped there might be somewhere else in the house to sleep. Moving to a boardinghouse might be a better option, and she could visit during the day to care for Ma. After all, Joshua would be home during the night, even if he did spend his days gambling in a saloon. He had to sleep sometime.
    Further investigation led her to one more room not far from her mother’s, just as tiny and dirty as the rest of the house. It appeared to be where her brother slept, as his clothing was strewn across the narrow bed and floor. An hour later she’d picked up and folded the last of the somewhat clean clothes, pitched the rest in a corner for scrubbing, swept the floor, and stripped the bed of the disgusting linens. Her arm throbbed and pain shot down to her fingertips, but she couldn’t have rested in that filthy room. She made her decision. Josh would have to sleep on the sofa if he expected her to stay.
    No sound emanated from her mother’s room, so Christy could only hope Ma had dropped into a restful sleep.
    Consumption. The word made Christy tremble. This house would need a thorough cleaning, but she couldn’t tackle another chore with her injured arm. Exhaustion and pain swamped her already. She wandered into the kitchen and opened a cupboard door. Her heart sank. Almost empty. Three tins of beans, a sack of flour, salt, rice, and little else.
    There went more of her tiny stash of money in her trunk.
    The padding of feet on the wood floor turned her around. Ma stood with her hand braced against the doorframe, her face pale and drawn. “Christy? When did you get here?”
    Christy rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her mother, giving her a gentle hug. Ma stiffened in her embrace and Christy released her, stepping away. “I’ve been here for over an hour. I came into your room earlier. Don’t you remember?”
    “No. I didn’t see you there. You sure?”
    “Yes, Ma. You’d just read the telegram the boy delivered.” She said the words slowly, wondering what effect they might have.
    “Telegram?” Ivy gripped the doorframe and frowned. Her body started to shake, and she bent over, coughing and gasping for breath.
    Christy supported the slender woman and urged her forward until they reached the sofa. Her mother sank onto the lumpy surface, the coughing spasm finally ending. “Thank you. What’s this nonsense about a telegram?”
    “You don’t remember, Ma? Cousin Jake sent word about Logan.”
    “Logan is comin’ home soon as he finishes minin’ that gold strike he’s workin’ on.” Ma settled against the sofa and closed her eyes.
    “No, Ma. The telegram said Logan was shot in Albuquerque, and they need money for his burial.” Christy sat down beside the older woman and frowned. Surely she’d read it, or she wouldn’t have been