Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Eleven

Reverend Donnelly handed him the badge, and Gray stared down at it. What in the ever-loving hell had he just done? Had he really just agreed to be sheriff?

What would happen if word got out? Would they have to change all his wanted posters to include his new title? Then again, it had been a fair amount of time since anyone had put out a mistaken wanted poster on him. After all, his gunfights were always in self-defense.

Still. Gray Woodson, sheriff, was just…odd.

“Oh, one more thing,” Reverend Donnelly said. “The apartment above the jailhouse here comes with the job. I assume you’ll want to take advantage of that until…well…” He gestured between Gray and Mercy with that look of faint disapproval that church folk always seemed to sport whenever there was the merest suggestion that a little unwedded bliss might be occurring.

Mercy, her cheeks flaming, opened her mouth, but Gray spoke before she could. “No.”

Her head jerked up and her gaze flew to his, stunned.

“But…” The reverend seemed at a loss for words, his cheeks flushing the same pale-red as his hair.

“As long as Josiah Banff is out there makin’ threats, I’m stayin’ with her.”

“Yes, but…” the preacher tried again.

“There’s no buts about it, preacher. You’ve all heard Banff threaten her a time or two. Those men in the cells are there because they showed up at her place with guns blazin’ and nothin’ but bad intentions. So, what would you rather it be, preacher? Would you rather protect her or your own sensibilities? Because that’s the only thing that’s bein’ harmed by my being there.”

The preacher’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but ultimately, he kept his holier-than-thou shit to himself. Good thing, too.

Gray jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Until Banff is dealt with, I’m not leavin’ her side. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with me.”

He pinned each one with a hard look, but no one else had any wish to weigh in on the matter, it seemed. Good. Then his gaze met Mercy’s and he froze. Those blue eyes of hers shone extra bright, and she gave him a small, sweet smile that warmed him from one end to the other. There was gratitude in those eyes, but something else, too. Pride. For him.

A funny emotion sloshed around in his gut. No one had ever been proud of him before. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feeling.

“Maybe we can help with the situation,” Martha said, a slight tremor in her voice the only thing that betrayed her nervousness.

Gray tore his gaze from Mercy with more difficulty than he’d like to admit. He started to question Martha, but Mercy reached out and lightly squeezed his arm. The sensation of someone’s fingers on his forearm should not be able to stop all other bodily functions, but he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. How to do anything, really, except stand and stare at that hand and revel in the heat that seemed to seep into and through him from the contact.

“What do you mean, Martha?” Mercy asked.

Martha smiled. “Well, Mrs. DuVere and some of the girls and I were talking, and we know with everything going on, taking care of wedding arrangements is probably the last thing on your mind. And it’s just terrible, with everything else that you’ve gone through lately, to have to postpone your wedding as well. So, well, we took care of everything for you!”

“What?” Mercy asked, her eyes wide with shock.

“We…oh, come see!” Martha said, grasping Mercy’s hand and towing her out the door.

Mercy threw a terrified look at him over her shoulder.

“You might as well go along, since it concerns you, too,” Mrs. DuVere said, laughing.

Gray would rather step into an erupting volcano than follow those women out the door but also couldn’t seem to stop himself. Like barreling toward the edge of a waterfall, knowing full well you’re about to go over but unable to do anything about it.

“You”—he pointed to Jason—“stay here and watch them,” he said, flicking a finger toward the occupied cells.

“You got it, Sheriff,” Jason said, taking a seat behind the desk.

Sheriff.

That was never going to sound right to him.

Gray trailed after the women with Doc and the preacher at his heels. Guess this was a town affair.

His curiosity was piqued when the women pulled Mercy into the tavern and up the staircase that led to the second-floor parlor house. Doc followed them all without problem, but Gray was amused to see the obvious discomfort the preacher felt crossing the threshold.

Gray took a look around once inside and wasn’t all that surprised to find it opulent but incredibly tasteful. The most successful parlor houses, at least the ones he’d visited, were usually decked out with all the comforts a man might want. Desolation might be a small town, but Mrs. DuVere obviously ran a profitable business. Or she’d brought enough money with her from wherever she’d come from to make it seem so. Either way, her establishment, dripping with velvet, damask wall coverings, crystal lamps, and plush elegance was a welcome sight.

But the women didn’t pause, continuing on through the establishment’s front rooms, through a plant-choked conservatory, and out onto a balcony that overlooked a tiled back patio.

Where a wedding arch covered in flowers and ribbons had been set up.

Gray’s heart damn near stopped beating.

A narrow aisle had been created with a few chairs on each side, leading up to the arch. A few cloth-covered tables sat nearby, and another longer table stood already stacked with fine china dishes and cups.

Mercy stood looking around at everything, her mouth open but completely speechless. His sentiment exactly.

“What do you think?” Martha said, her hands clasped near her chest as she watched Mercy anxiously.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she said. She took a few deep breaths and seemed to pull herself together somewhat. She grasped her friend’s hand. “It’s all beautiful, Martha, truly.”

Martha’s face immediately melted into a relieved vision of excited happiness. “Oh, I’m so glad you love it! See, you can descend from the back stairs here. We thought that might be better than coming out of the tavern, though you can if you think that would be easier. And coming down the stairs here would make such a pretty image.”

“It’s wonderful,” Mercy said. “But…I…you did this for me?”

“Of course! You were saying that you didn’t have time to deal with any of this, what with everything going on, and it’s just not fair that you two…” Martha glanced at him and grinned. “I’ve got a cake all made up and the girls and I have been cooking all day.”

“You have?” Mercy said, her voice noticeably fainter. “But you didn’t even know we’d be coming into town today.”

“We had plans to go fetch you both, but you beat us to it!” Martha giggled. “Everything is all ready. All we need is the bride and groom.”

Gray’s brain seemed to be encased in some sort of fog that refused to let him make sense of exactly what was going on. But from what he could make out…he was about to get married.

…

Mercy tried to swallow past her suddenly dry mouth. “Could you excuse us for just a minute?” she asked, her voice much fainter than she’d intended.

She forced a smile and grabbed Gray’s arm, towing him behind her back into the house. Thankfully, the parlor house was full of secluded nooks and crannies, and she ushered him into a small, curtained alcove with a plush love seat and pulled him down with her.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I know actually marrying me wasn’t part of the deal.”

Gray took a long, slow breath, his face unreadable. “I said I would if it came down to it.”

Her stomach fluttered. “Yes, but I don’t think either of us thought it ever would come down to it. I’m sure you didn’t really mean it when you agreed.”

“Didn’t I?”

The quiet words reverberated in her head, sending her stomach spinning and her lungs struggling to drag in a breath. “You…you’d really marry me?”

“I said I would,” he repeated. His eyes remained fixed on hers, but she couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. Feeling. Maybe there was nothing at all going on in his mind. Or maybe everything.

She put a hand to her forehead, trying to clear the sudden buzzing echoing in her ears.

“You did,” she agreed. “But, if you’ve changed your mind… I mean, I know this was all supposed to be temporary. Just until Josiah is gone. Doing this…” She could barely force herself to say the word. “Marriage. It’s a lot to ask… It’ll be real. Permanent. And I know that wasn’t part of the deal. So, I’m just saying, I’d understand if you…”

She blew out a breath, and he leaned forward. He didn’t touch her, but even being a few inches nearer made her heart beat hard enough she was sure he could hear it.

“I know most people don’t have a very high opinion of me,” he said, his voice gruff, a pain behind it that made her want to wrap her arms around him. “But I’m a man of my word. I said I’d help you. Josiah is still out there. So, I’m not done yet. And I said if it came down to it, I’d marry you for real. Well, it looks like it’s come down to it.”

“And if it all goes horribly wrong and we loathe the sight of each other within a month?”

He shrugged. “Then I hop on that lazy horse of mine, and we ride out of here. You stay a respectable married woman with the freedom to do whatever the hell she wants without everyone in town naggin’ her to get a husband.”

“And if I ever want to remarry?”

He shrugged again. “Tell people I died. It’ll probably be the truth.”

Mercy’s stomach sank at the thought of anything happening to Gray, but she didn’t have time to analyze the feeling to death just yet. First, she needed to figure out if she was getting married or not. She kept coming up with another dozen reasons why this was a bad idea. Though, getting out of it would cause a stir she really didn’t want to deal with. Not that that was a reason to get married.

“The only real question is,” Gray said, “do you agree to this?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. If you don’t want this, it doesn’t happen. People will talk, but people will always talk. I don’t care about them. You, however, are more than capable of killin’ me in my sleep.”

She gasped. “I would never.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be so sure. We don’t know each other all that well yet, and I have no doubt that what you do know of me vexes you to no end.”

“That’s a fair point.”

He gave her that crooked grin she couldn’t help but return. Vexing, yes. But he could be kind of adorable when he wanted to be.

“All I’m sayin’ is marriage lasts a long time even when you go into it willing,” he said. “So. If you object, we tell them to mind their own business and go about ours as planned. If you don’t object…” He shrugged. “Then I guess we go out there and get hitched.”

She blinked at him. “Yes, but I’m sure I’m…” She gestured at herself. “I’m not…”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not what?”

She frowned, not sure if he was playing with her and just trying to make her say it or if he really didn’t know what she was getting at. She had no illusions that she was a great beauty. No man would walk into a room and notice her first. Or even fifth or sixth. That hadn’t bothered her too much in the past. She had her farm, her orchard, her friends. She only rarely noticed the lack of a husband, and it never lasted long. All in all, she’d grown content with her lot in life.

But Gray had traveled. Lived an exciting life. And was still a very handsome man, if a little worse for wear. She had no doubt he had been with all sorts of beautiful women. They always flocked to dangerous men. And whatever else Gray was, he was definitely dangerous. When he could stay awake, that is.

She took a deep breath and said it all in a rush. “I’m probably not the type of woman you expected you’d marry.”

His eyes widened. “Mercy, I’m a gunfighter. I never expected I’d marry at all, or even live long enough for the thought to cross my mind.”

Her shoulders sagged. Partly in relief, though there was more than a little disappointment, too. At what, she didn’t want to examine too closely. What had she expected him to do? Declare his undying love and admiration? He barely knew her. He was only in this spot because she’d badgered him into it, and he was apparently too honorable (who knew?) to back out. And besides, did she even want him to go waxing poetic? She barely knew him, either, and what she did know was…well, colorful, to say the least.

“Hey,” he said, startling her out of her thoughts. He touched her chin, lightly turning her face to look at him more fully. “I know I couldn’t have ever expected all this to happen. But if I do have to be saddled with a wife…” That lopsided grin of his took the sting out of his words and sent her stomach careening again. “Well, you aren’t such a bad choice.”

Mercy laughed. “Aren’t you just the flatterer.”

His grin widened. “I mean it. You’re strong, brave, smart, and stubborn as a mule. That’s a compliment, by the way,” he added when she gasped. Then he just stared at her for a heartbeat, as though he wasn’t sure what to say or wasn’t sure if he should say it. Finally, he shook his head. “Your eyes are the exact color of a field of bluebells I passed once. Soft blue but with flecks of gold like when the sun hits ’em. And when you get your dander up, they flash pure fire.”

She no longer worried if he’d hear her heart. Because it had just stopped altogether.

He shrugged. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. It’s been a while since I knew where I’d be lying my head every night.”

Mercy’s cheeks flushed hot with the sudden realization that as her husband he might have the expectation of laying his head beside hers. Their engagement might have been fake, but this marriage would be very real. And he would be well within his rights to expect it to be real…in every way. And…she wasn’t sure she hated that idea.

“Of course, you can’t cook worth a damn, but with Martha feeding me lunch, at least I’ll be sure of one decent meal every day,” he said.

“Oh!” She shoved him and he chuckled, capturing her hand. And then he pressed a kiss to the back of it.

She sucked in a breath. For an inept, laze-about, retired killer, he could certainly be charming when he wanted to be.

“So?” he asked.

She slowly released her breath and stood. “All right, then. Let’s go get hitched.”

…

As soon as she agreed, Gray’s stomach dropped into his boots. He hadn’t really expected her to say no. She needed him. Josiah was still out there, ready to pounce. Gray now held four of his men and Josiah wasn’t going to let that go unanswered. If anything, the threat from Josiah was even worse.

However, he hadn’t really expected her to say yes, either. Sure, she still needed his help, but marriage was a damn permanent way to go about getting it. They probably should have had a longer discussion about what each expected after the I do’s. He had never expected to find himself married, that was damn sure, but since it was about to happen, he also saw no reason to not take advantage of some of the more entertaining benefits. Might have been a good idea to ask Mercy where she stood on all that before they were legally bound for the rest of their lives.

Aside from that, their situation probably wouldn’t change much. He assumed she would allow him to move into the main house. But if not, he would stay in his little bungalow, which was comfortable enough—if he could get rid of Jason—and they would go on as they had been.

Once Josiah was taken care of, they could see where they stood. He could always move into the apartment above the jailhouse if they got on each other’s nerves too much.

It struck him again just how little they knew about each other. How had she made it to her age—which come to think of it, he didn’t actually know precisely, though he figured she was somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties. But how had a single woman not in the employ of Mrs. DuVere made it to her age without a husband? Women were scarce in the West, especially in towns like Desolation. So, there would have been no shortage of suitors for her hand no matter her looks or disposition.

Not that she was lacking in either of those areas, despite her apparent thoughts to the contrary. She might not be what some called a classic beauty, but she carried herself in a way that demanded admiration and attention. She’d certainly captured his from the moment he’d clapped eyes on her, and that was something very few managed to do.

Her temperament could use a little work. Or maybe he just brought out the pigheaded side of her. The woman was certainly used to being in charge. Then again, she was efficient and organized and got the job done, so it wasn’t a bad place for her to be. He hated someone telling him what to do, but he couldn’t deny the results when she was the one holding the reins. Not that he would ever tell her that.

Well. What’s done was done. They’d both agreed. And now…he was about to get married. Dear God, help them both.

As soon as they walked out to join the others, they were surrounded. Mercy was whisked off by the ladies who had immediately started chattering about the perfect dress one of the girls had and a bunch of other lady stuff that his ears immediately shut out. Martha had sent Doc Fairbanks over to her shop to assist her apparently elderly grandparents in finishing with food preparation. The preacher was doing whatever preachers did before the wedding ceremonies. And Jason had been given the task of getting Gray cleaned up and presentable. Poor sod.

Doc had graciously offered the loan of one of his suits, of which he apparently owned several, as well as the use of his home for the ordeal. Jason hauled him into the bedroom and pointed him at the ewer and basin, slapping a bar of soap and a towel in his hand.

“Wash,” he said, his tone unusually confident. And bossy.

“I had planned on it,” Gray said, glaring at him. He hadn’t really planned on it, but after a glance in the mirror above the dresser, he’d grudgingly conceded he could probably use a little sprucing up. He had just bathed the other day, though, so he wasn’t as bad as he might have been.

Once he was clean enough to please Jason, he pulled on the doc’s suit, which fit him better than expected. He finished the last button on the vest and then pulled on the jacket, crossing his arms a few times to get a feel for the fit. It would do.

Jason handed him his new badge, and Gray glared at it with distaste. “Is that really necessary?”

“You are the sheriff now.”

Gray sighed and pinned it to his vest. “Speaking of which, who is watching our prisoners?”

“Frank,” Jason said, looking him over with a frown.

“And who is Frank?”

Jason raised his eyes and his lips twitched. This couldn’t be good.

“Well, from what I understand, he’s sort of the town drunk.”

Gray blinked at him. Slowly. “And that’s who you thought would be appropriate to watch the prisoners?”

Jason shrugged. “Not really, but no one else volunteered. Besides, Frank promised he wouldn’t drink until after I come back to relieve him, and Doc said he’s reliable, mostly, if you catch him early enough in the day. I’ll head over after the festivities and stay the night there. Figured you two would want a little privacy.”

Gray frowned. “You keep waggling those eyebrows at me, and I’m going to shave them off.”

Jason laughed, but he stopped it with the eyebrows. He glanced over Gray again, his amusement fading.

“What?” Gray asked, holding his arms out while Jason surveyed him with a slight frown. Gray looked down at himself. “Doesn’t it look all right?”

Jason tapped his finger against his chin. “The suit looks great. We just need to do something about…” He gestured to encompass Gray’s face and hair. “All that.”

“What do you mean? I’m clean.”

“Yes, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to run a comb through your hair.”

Gray waved him off. “What’s the point of that? It’ll just be covered up anyway.” He slapped his hat on his head, pushing it down tight.

Jason shook his head. “You can’t wear your hat during the wedding ceremony.”

Gray narrowed his eyes. “I’m wearin’ my hat.”

Jason sighed. “Fine. But you could at least get a shave.”

Gray rubbed a hand over the several days’ growth of whiskers on his cheeks. Fine. Sunshine might have a point there, but he hated to give the little twit the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Come on,” Jason said. “There’s a barbershop just across the street. My treat.”

He grinned. Gray groaned. But he followed him across the street without further argument. For himself, he wouldn’t bother. But Mercy might appreciate his effort. Not that he normally put any stock in what anyone else thought of him. But…since she seemed to be going through the effort of getting all gussied up herself, it might be kind of nice to surprise her with his own fancification.

He took a deep breath, gave himself a mental slap, and opened the door of the barbershop.

The barber’s eyes widened when he entered, but aside from a slight stammer in his voice when he said “welcome,” the man didn’t cause a fuss.

“Right this way, Mr. Woodson,” he said, leading him to a chair. “Sorry. Sheriff.”

Gray opened his mouth to protest and then remembered that he was, indeed, the new sheriff. That was going to take some getting used to.

It had been a while since he’d had anyone else shave him. Letting strange men near him with razor blades was a hazard he tended to avoid. Aside from an initial tremor or two, the barber did a quick and admirable job of it. The whole process had actually been kind of nice. Enough so that he agreed to a haircut as well. Since his last haircut had been accomplished with a pair of rusty scissors and without the assistance of another person or a mirror, he was probably due.

Even with the extra services, the whole ordeal was finished rather quickly and had left Gray feeling damn near relaxed. And his appearance…

He froze, not recognizing the man who stared back at him from the mirror. With his hair tamed and the whiskers gone, he could fully see his face for the first time in years. There were more lines there than he remembered. A few more grays mixed in with the darker strands of his hair. But the shadows were gone from under his eyes. His mouth wasn’t pinched, and his brow wasn’t furrowed in a frown. He actually looked a bit…younger. Even…happier?

The thought brought his frown back. He didn’t trust happy. Certainly not after so short a time. Desolation seemed like the answer to all his problems. Isolated, with townspeople friendly enough to welcome him but with enough of their own secrets they didn’t judge his. But Gray had been fooled before. Appearances were deceiving. Always. And he’d be wise to remember it.

“Now that’s a definite improvement,” Sunshine said, his irritating smile back in place. “Except for the scowl. Try and get rid of that before your bride walks down the aisle. Oh,” he said, glancing at his pocket watch, “we’d better hurry. It’s almost time.”

The blood drained from Gray’s face. His bride. Who would be walking down the aisle toward him. Within minutes.

For the first time in a very long time, he rethought his rule against drinking. A shot of something strong sounded very, very good just then.

But Jason didn’t give him time for that, and suddenly Gray found himself out of the barbershop and in the lush, newly festooned back courtyard of the parlor house before he could draw a steady breath. The preacher nodded at him, though there was still a hint of disapproval behind his dark eyes. Gray tugged at the collared shirt that suddenly seemed a hair too tight. Then he turned to Jason. He couldn’t do this. What had he been thinking?

Before he could get out a word, though, a fiddle struck up a screeching version of the wedding song, and Jason shoved a daisy in Gray’s buttonhole. Then he turned him back to face the aisle—and the absolute vision of loveliness who clutched a bouquet of wildflowers, slowly making her way to him.

Or she had been walking down the makeshift aisle. But one look at him standing in front of the preacher and she’d frozen right where she was, about halfway between him and the door behind her.

Gray’s breath caught in his throat. What was she doing?