Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Ten

“What are we going to do with them?” Mercy asked, looking down at the men who were hog-tied at her feet.

“Bring them to the sheriff?” Jason asked.

Mercy shook her head. “He ran off a few nights ago.”

“He take one look at ol’ Mr. Woodson here and run off with his tail between his legs?” Jason asked, though his tone sounded more jesting than admiring.

“Actually, yes,” she said, ignoring Gray’s raised eyebrows. She didn’t know why she felt the need to defend him, but…well, credit should be given where it was due, and it had been Gray’s presence that had scared off the sheriff.

“Apparently being stuck between the dangerous Josiah and the murderous Quick Shot Woodson was too much for the sheriff’s poor constitution to handle,” Mercy said.

Gray watched her with a curious expression, those eyes of his boring into hers.

“Murderous, eh?” Jason glanced at Gray with a grin.

He stopped staring at Mercy and waved Jason off. “Nothin’ but stories. I’m perfectly harmless.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason said, and Mercy laughed.

Gray was many, many things. Harmless was not one of them.

He finished tying up the last man and stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at them, his face drawn with weary lines. “We can at least take them to the jailhouse. They’ll be more secure there. I’d just as soon get them off the property.”

Mercy put her hand over her heart. “Why, Mr. Woodson. I didn’t think you cared so much for my safety.” She kept her tone lighthearted, but she truly was touched that he’d want to get the dangerous men off her property as quickly as possible.

He pinned her with another look she couldn’t decipher. She’d pay a nice pile of money to know what was going on in that man’s head when he looked at her.

“We keep them here, Josiah might come back around lookin’ for them. I’m too tired to fight another posse right now. A man can only defeat so many enemies a day.”

Ah. Of course. He was worried about himself. Not her.

“Hey, I helped,” Jason said. “That one’s mine.” He pointed at the pudgy one who was still curled up like a newborn baby.

“Took your time about it, too.”

Mercy bit her lip to keep from grinning at Gray’s droll tone. “That’s no way to encourage him,” Mercy said. She turned to Jason with a brilliant smile. “You did wonderfully, Mr. Sunshine. I’m sure you’d have been able to take on the whole lot, given the chance.”

Gray snorted. “We’ll let him try next time, shall we?”

Mercy and Jason both opened their mouths to respond, but Gray ignored them. “Go hitch up the wagon, Sunshine.”

Jason scampered off, and Mercy shook her head. “A little praise and encouragement goes a long way. He held his own today. Did better than I did,” she said with a little laugh.

“You did well enough,” Gray muttered.

Her eyes widened. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”

He gave the knot he’d been tying one last tug before standing up. “You managed to point the gun in the right direction and didn’t shoot any of your own men. Hardly rousing praise but suit yourself.”

She shrugged. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He opened his mouth to argue—or maybe agree…the man was impossible to read—but Jason rolled up with the wagon and Gray turned away to help load the men. She sighed. She was never going to understand that man.

They had barely made it a quarter mile from the house before Jason began peppering Gray with questions over his performance.

“Surely you have at least one piece of advice for how I can do better next time,” Jason said.

“Nope.” Gray kept his gaze glued to the horizon, though his hands tightened on the reins every time Jason opened his mouth.

She had a tip. Be more observant. Even she could see that Gray was going to snap if Jason kept at him. He wasn’t the most patient on a good day, and it had been a rather eventful morning.

“I mean, I knew you were a legend with a gun, but I had no idea you could fight like that. You took three men out on your own, while I barely managed to handle one.”

“You did wonderfully,” Mercy said.

Jason blushed a little. “That’s very kind of you to say, Miss Mercy, but I wouldn’t have lasted another two minutes. And I’m not real proud of how I got the upper hand.”

He glanced down at the man he’d bested, who had unclenched a little but still seemed to be suffering from the blow.

“Did you win?” Gray asked.

Jason frowned. “Yes.”

“Are you dead?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be dead next time?”

Jason’s frown deepened. “Of course not.”

“Then you do what you need to do to stay alive and quit complainin’ about it.”

Jason gave him a sheepish smile. “Good advice.”

Gray grunted.

Before they had even brought the horses to a full stop in front of the jail, half the town it seemed was there to greet them.

“Doesn’t anyone in this place have anything better to do?” Gray muttered, watching the small crowd of Doc, Reverend Donnelly, Martha, and Mrs. DuVere descend as well as a dozen or so others.

Mercy shrugged. “An infamous gunslinger bringing in four hog-tied captives is bound to cause a bit of a stir.”

Gray’s full lips turned up into a heart-stuttering smile. Maybe it was just because he didn’t smile often, but the sight of it never failed to send her stomach swirling.

Jason jumped down and introduced himself to a flustered Martha while Gray tied up the horses. Mercy clambered down from her seat and nodded at Doc.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“Some of Josiah Banff’s men who came to my place, looking for trouble.”

Doc’s eyes widened as he peered into the wagon. “Do they need medical attention?”

She shrugged. “Probably.”

Gray hauled the first man out. “They’re fine.” He glanced at Mrs. DuVere. “Is the door still unlocked?”

“Sure thing, honey,” she said, hurrying over to open it for him.

He nodded at her and then looked at Jason. “Bring the rest of them.”

Gray didn’t wait to see if his orders would be obeyed, just turned and marched his prisoner into the jailhouse.

Doc, Reverend Donnelly, and Martha glanced at one another and then the men moved to help Jason unload the rest of Josiah’s men. Doc looked over each of them quickly, murmuring with a slight frown creasing his brow, but he didn’t say much as they moved them inside. He seemed to disapprove of their injuries, which was noble of him. But the men had been on her land, shootingat her, with obvious intent to harm her so their boss could steal her property. Frankly, she thought they’d gotten off easy.

The jail sported two rather new cells, each equipped with a cot. They put the two most grievously hurt on the cots and left the other two to get as comfortable as they could. Mercy stayed out in the front room, watching Gray as he came from the cells and slumped into the chair behind the sheriff’s desk. He leaned back and propped his feet on the desk, folding his hands over his stomach.

When everyone else had rejoined them, they all glanced at one another, at a loss for what to do.

“Now what?” Jason asked.

Again, they all glanced at each other, and then, almost as one, they turned to Gray.

It took him a moment to realize they were all looking at him. His eyes darted among them all. “What?”

Instead of one of them stepping forward, they all turned to Mercy. Great. She got to be the bearer of bad news. She sighed. It was obvious what they all wished to say, and she was pretty sure Gray knew exactly what was on their minds. But since he was going to make them actually spell it out…

“I believe the townspeople would like you to reconsider—”

He dropped his feet from the desk. “No.”

She pinned him with her best no-nonsense look. “Accepting the position—”

“No.” He stood and started for the door, but she stepped into his path.

“Of sheriff.”

His eyes narrowed and he leveled a look at her that probably had most men shaking in their boots. Certainly the men in the room with them. She found it kind of cute, though. Like a gruff-looking puppy that growled and snarled when playing tug-of-war with a rope. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d appreciate that assessment, but she couldn’t help aiming a brilliant smile at him.

She reached out with one hand and rested it on his arm. “Please?”

He held the look for another breath and then the lines around his eyes eased and the tension in his shoulders relaxed.

He turned back to the group of townspeople. “Is that what you all want?”

As one, they nodded.

“Y’all must be three sheets to the wind,” he muttered, before sighing and rubbing his face. “Surely there is someone else more qualified that’ll step up.”

Every single one of them shook their heads.

“Less qualified?” he asked, hopefully. “There must be at least one other person in this town with a pulse who would be willing…”

“I’ll do it,” Jason said, stepping forward with an eager grin. “I’m not nearly as qualified, of course…”

“You’re not qualified at all,” Gray said, waving him back to the corner where he’d been watching. “You’re so green the idea is laughable.”

Faithful to his sunny disposition, the jab didn’t seem to bother Sunshine at all. He just grinned good-naturedly. “True, but the only person who does have any sort of qualification is you, and you don’t want the job.”

Gray looked around the room. Every person there looked back at him, full in the face. “You all realize my only qualifications are that I can shoot, right?”

Doc shrugged. “You’ve had the most experience with law enforcement.”

Gray’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Yeah, because I’ve either tussled with or am wanted by every law enforcement official between here and Chicago.”

“Well, that just gives you a leg up,” Martha said. “You know how these reprobates might think and what a lawman would do to catch them, or prevent the crime, or keep the peace, or whatever.”

“She’s got a point,” Mrs. DuVere said.

Mercy watched emotions flit across Gray’s face, unable to fully imagine what he must be thinking. The more the silence dragged on, though, she knew he was wrestling with something powerful. Could see it in the grinding of his jaw, the way his gaze kept darting from the door to the group gathered in front of him. It was like he knew this decision might mean getting to know people in town more. Something he clearly feared more than a gunfight.

The furrow in his brow deepened further. “Even if I wanted to accept, and I don’t…but sayin’ I did…isn’t there a mayor or town council or somethin’ that has to approve?”

“I am the mayor,” Mrs. DuVere said. “And you’re looking at the town council,” she said, pointing to Doc and the preacher. “Minus Mr. Grutski, the undertaker. He’s busy today.”

Mercy watched Gray with growing concern. She didn’t think he’d be able to take too many more surprises.

“You’re the mayor?” he asked Mrs. DuVere.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Find it odd that a woman, and one who owns the local parlor house, holds such a position?”

“Yes,” Gray said without hesitation, despite the obvious warning tone in her voice.

Mrs. DuVere burst out laughing in that booming, full-bellied way she had. Then she shrugged. “Well, we are a bit odd in Desolation, I suppose. It’s fairly isolated out here, so we do what suits us best.”

“Ah. Like hirin’ an outlawed gunfighter to be your sheriff.”

She winked at him. “Exactly.”

Gray nodded slowly, then kept nodding. Then he held up a finger, grasped Mercy by the arm, and firmly escorted her outside and back across the street to their wagon. But he didn’t toss her onto the bench and send the horses running like she expected.

Instead, he stared off into the distance.

“What are you thinking?” Mercy asked, every muscle in her body tense.

If he was spooked enough to leave, she’d be left high and dry without the protection she desperately needed. Because despite her blustering, she did need him. He might downplay his role in defeating Josiah’s men earlier, but she’d have been sunk without him, even with Jason there.

Plus, she just really didn’t want him to leave. She’d grown used to his broody presence around her house. He wasn’t nearly as disagreeable as he liked to pretend. Well, he was disagreeable, but there was a humor and…a goodness to him under all that bluster. She’d miss him if he left.

Gray didn’t answer her for a moment, and then finally he took a deep breath. “Are they all really that desperate?”

That startled a chuckle out of her. “Maybe.”

Gray’s lips twitched, and an answering tug echoed in her heart. “Look,” she said. “You’ve been searching for a place to settle. And you did want to stay here, didn’t you?”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, yeah, but dammit, I didn’t want to work.”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s Desolation. Aside from Josiah, who I’ll admit is a problem, but one you are dealing with anyway, I don’t think you’ll be too busy.”

He let out a grunt but didn’t argue, so she continued.

“You said you wanted to find a town where no one knew who you were. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be in a place where everyone knows you and accepts you anyway, murky past and all. Even if you have to work.”

Gray’s frown deepened. “But why would they do that?”

Mercy’s smile faded, her own unpleasant memories invading her mind. “We all have our own pasts. Everyone comes to Desolation for a reason. Who are we to judge yours?”

He regarded her for a minute, long enough that she wanted to squirm under his gaze. But she held steady, forcing herself to keep her gaze locked with his.

“I suppose it would be nice to have another place to take a nap than just your porch,” he said, maintaining a serious face for a second before a half grin peeped through.

Mercy echoed his smile and nudged his shoulder with hers. “It might not be so bad, you know. Maybe you’ll like being on the right side of the law for a change.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He yanked his hat off his head and ran a hand through his thick hair before shoving the hat low across his forehead again. “Come on.”

He started back across the street to the jailhouse. Everyone either had their faces pressed to the window or had been watching out the open door. When they saw him coming, they disappeared from sight and were milling around very unconvincingly in the sheriff’s office when Gray and Mercy entered.

Gray stood in silence for a moment, and Mercy wondered if he was trying to force himself to speak. He pinned them all with a gaze that had a few of them shifting uncomfortably. “If someone were to accept this position, not me necessarily, but someone…”

“Yes?” Mrs. DuVere said with a smile.

Mercy bit her lip to keep her own smile from peeking out. He really wasn’t great at being subtle.

“He’d have a few demands.”

“Requests,” Mercy suggested. Gray had the right to ask for a few things, but it never hurt to ask nicely.

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s call them requirements.”

She nodded. It was nicer than demands, at least.

“I want a deputy that I get to choose. If I have to deal with all this,” he said, waving his hand toward the door, and the town, presumably, “then I’m not going to do it alone.”

“That’s reasonable,” Doc said, and everyone nodded.

“Also, as I assume this’ll be an all-day ordeal,” Gray said with a sigh. “I want meals delivered promptly at noon every day.”

“Won’t your…wife-to-be…take care of that?” Reverend Donnelly asked, his pale-blue eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.

Mercy’s stomach dropped. Oh. That was her. “Of course,” she said, her cheeks flaming.

Gray shook his head with a look of horror, and she had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Mercy is busy enough with her own chores. She doesn’t need to be runnin’ into town to feed me every day.”

Nice of him, though Mercy had no doubt he was more worried about the quality of his food, not about inconveniencing her. Not that she blamed him. Maybe she’d come into town around noon every day anyway and see if he’d share with her.

“I can take care of it,” Martha said. “I always make far too much for me and my grandparents, anyway.”

His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. “Excellent.”

She glowered at him. He didn’t have to seem so happy about someone else feeding him. He very studiously ignored her.

“And I want a generous income,” Gray said. Everyone nodded, but he held up a finger. “Very generous.”

The others’ enthusiasm waned a bit, but Mrs. DuVere didn’t seem to have any qualms. “Agreed.”

He frowned, like he’d expected her to fight harder. “And I want a new kettle,” he added, pointing to the now empty potbellied stove in the corner.

“Done,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He looked at it for a second, like he was trying to work up the nerve to grab a snake by the head. Finally, he groaned and shook her hand. “Fine. I’ll be the damn sheriff, then.”