Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Fifteen

Mercy placed a plate of brown scrambled eggs and several lumps of meat that Gray assumed were sausage in front of him with a sigh. It’d been only a day since the apple picking—and Martha’s cooking—and Gray almost wanted to suggest they do it all again just so they could have another decent meal.

“They’re a little better than yesterday,” she insisted.

She’d said the same thing every day since he’d arrived. He’d never been able to ascertain an improvement, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He shrugged and shoved a forkful in his mouth. “It’s okay,” he said after he swallowed. “I’m actually starting to like them this way.”

Or maybe his taste buds had just given up and died. Either way, the taste was growing on him. Or at least not turning his stomach.

She shook her head, but the small smile on her lips sent a happy little buzz through him that both confused and exasperated him. His state of being was being entirely too mixed up with Mercy and her reactions.

She fixed herself a plate and sat beside him, and they ate in comfortable silence. He’d never considered himself the domestic type, and he certainly never fathomed that he would be a husband settled down with a wife and property. Plus the weight of the sheriff’s badge on his chest hung heavily. He had most certainly never considered that development, either. But for some reason it didn’t bother him as much as it should. Oh, he’d still rather pin the badge on Frank the town drunk than wear it himself. But now that he’d given his word to take the job…he didn’t hate it as much as he’d anticipated he would.

Maybe it wasn’t just the burned eggs he was getting used to…

After breakfast, he settled into his rocking chair on the porch and took a deep breath. Josiah and his men hadn’t been seen or heard from since just before their wedding two days ago.

And Gray didn’t trust that for an instant.

The man was being too quiet.

Men such as him didn’t give up so easily. He had to be plotting something, and the longer it took for him to show his hand, the more antsy Gray got. If something didn’t happen soon, Gray might go looking for trouble just so he didn’t have to continue to wait for trouble to find him.

Birdie wandered by, munching what he assumed was another apple. He’d have to talk to Mercy about just letting her wander around the property, though the dumb animal seemed happy enough to stay in the courtyard where there was an abundance of water, sweet grass, and apples strewn about. Gray narrowed his eyes at the horse who blew a horsey raspberry at him and continued on her way, the goat—her new best friend—at her heels.

Gray shook his head and settled back. He still didn’t quite trust his newfound contentment. Well, minus the sheriff job, though Jason had been taking care of things there for the last two days so the newlyweds could spend some time together. For the rest…he would be happy if things continued on as they were. Nights spent making love to Mercy, mornings spent eating and relaxing on his porch, evenings watching the sunset without having to look over his shoulder for whoever might be lurking there before taking Mercy back to bed… Now that he could get used to. That wasn’t a bad life. The sheriff’s job was another matter, as was Josiah Banff. But they weren’t something he was going to think about just then. He closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face, his head pleasantly fuzzy.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before a poke in the ribs brought him back around with a snort.

“Hey,” Mercy said with a laugh. “You just woke up an hour ago. You can’t possibly be napping already.”

“You underestimate me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, never that,” she said with that dazzling smile of hers. “I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” he said, perking up. He loved presents.

“Of a sort.” She held out his guns, the ones he’d buried in the garden. “I dug them up after breakfast and cleaned them for you.”

“I really need to get better at hiding these,” he mumbled, reaching out to take them.

Mercy shook her head. “If you’re going to be sheriff, you’re going to need those. I promise I will not touch them without permission again.”

He chuckled and slid them into the holsters that he still wore on his hips. The familiar weight of them against his sides eased an anxiety in him he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling. Like it or not, they had been a part of him for a very long time. And while he was beginning to hope they wouldn’t be such a necessary feature, he did feel more comfortable with them at his side.

“Thanks,” he said, giving her that half grin that always made the heat rush to her cheeks. They didn’t disappoint him, flushing a pretty rosy red. Well, if Mercy could bend a little, maybe he could try as well.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe I can teach you a few things. One of these days.”

Her smile took his breath away. “That would be nice.”

Damn, this woman would be his undoing. And he’d love every second of his downfall. He pulled her onto his lap, making her squeak in surprise, though she didn’t protest. Instead, she settled against him, draping her arms about his neck.

“If you wanted me to come closer, you just had to say.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He wrapped his arm about her hip to tug her against his chest, and she leaned in to kiss him without any further prompting. The small moan that escaped her when their tongues met sent his head spinning. That was the only excuse he had for not noticing that they were no longer alone.

“Well now, isn’t this a pretty scene,” Josiah said. “I hate to interrupt.”

Mercy gasped and jumped from Gray’s lap. Gray stood more slowly, keeping Josiah squared in his gaze while also watching the two men on either side of him. Josiah’s eyes narrowed, focusing on Gray’s chest.

“I heard we had a new sheriff,” he said. “Pity the last one didn’t stick around a little longer.”

“I’m sure,” Gray said. “It’s such a hassle when law enforcement actually aims to enforce the law, isn’t it?”

Josiah smirked. “And now we have an outlaw for a lawman. Now that’s about the most damn ironic thing I have ever seen.”

Gray ignored that. “What are you doing here, Josiah?” He tried to shift so that Mercy was behind him without being too obvious about it. Mercy, however, did not cooperate. Typical.

“You’ve got my men,” Josiah said. “I’d like them back.”

Yeah, Gray figured it was something like that. “I’m afraid they’re a little indisposed right now, awaiting trial in my jail cells.”

“You’ve got no cause to hold them.”

Gray’s eyes widened. “How do you reckon that? Your men attacked my wife on her property. Right in front of the sheriff, no less,” he said, gesturing to himself.

Josiah scowled. “You weren’t the sheriff when they did it. If they did it, that is. It’s just your word against theirs.”

“And mine,” Mercy said. “And we have another witness as well.”

Josiah shrugged. “I don’t see how that makes any difference. For all anyone knows, you started it and they were just trying to defend themselves. From what I hear, they’re not in very good shape and yet here you are, hale and hearty. Seems to me my men were the ones who were attacked that day.”

“Just because they lost the fight doesn’t mean they didn’t start it.”

“That’s right,” Josiah said, giving Gray a long, hard look. “I’ve heard you don’t like starting fights.”

He said it as though it were some sort of insult, and his men snickered like their boss had just brutally put him in his place. But Gray had heard it all before. Like he was somehow less of a man because he didn’t provoke fights. He shrugged, completely indifferent. “Doesn’t matter who starts. I always finish ’em.”

Josiah’s jaw muscles popped in and out as he visibly gritted his teeth. Probably debating the wisdom of riling a sheriff with a gunslinger’s credentials. “None of that makes any difference, anyhow,” he finally said. “Either way, I want them back. Now.”

Gray gave him a cold smile. “We both know I’m not gonna let that happen, Josiah. They attacked us. Unprovoked. Even if it hadn’t been my wife they were aimin’ at, that still would have been a problem. They’ve been arrested and they will sit in that jail cell until they can be transported to the nearest judge for trial.”

Gray’s hands had been moving as close to his guns as he could unobtrusively manage while he spoke. Josiah was far too angry to let this go, and he wasn’t very subtle with his intentions. His men were already squaring up beside him, not even trying to hide what they were doing. Gray turned his head slightly toward Mercy, though he kept his eyes on Josiah.

“Get behind me,” he said as quietly as he could. She sucked in a breath and turned to him, her eyes wide. “Just do it,” he said, putting as much urgency in his voice that he could. He did not have time to argue with her.

“You’ll rot in hell before you take my men anywhere,” Josiah said, going for his guns.

“Now!” Gray yelled.

Mercy dove behind him just as three shots rang out. Josiah screamed and Gray took a deep breath, his guns both smoking in his hands. He’d worried for a second that he might be a little rusty. It had been a while since he needed to fall back on his skills, but he was glad to see he worried for nothing.

Josiah’s guns lay on the ground, and he cradled one bleeding hand with the other.

“You shot my hand!” Josiah said, his face nearly purple with rage and pain.

His men sat stunned beside him, their horses prancing with terror. Gray’s bullets had found their marks. One had gone right through the palm of Josiah’s gun hand. The other had shot the hat off the head of one of his men. The third man cursed and wheeled his horse around, galloping off before anyone could say another word. Gray had no idea where Josiah’s shot had hit, but it hadn’t struck him or Mercy, so he wasn’t going to worry about it.

Josiah grabbed the reins of his horse with his uninjured hand, the other cradled against his side, bleeding profusely. “This isn’t over, Woodson. I’ll have you gone, one way or another, before the month is out.”

Gray sighed as Josiah wheeled around. The man whose hat had been shot jumped from his horse, gathered his hat and Josiah’s gun, and then followed him out of the courtyard. Mercy laid a shaking hand on his arm, and he holstered his guns, then pulled her into an embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She buried her face against his chest and nodded. “Are you?”

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, assuring himself that she really wasn’t hurt as much as trying to calm her.

“Oh yeah. That wasn’t the first gunfight I’ve ever been in.”

She laughed, and the sound soothed the pounding of his heart a little. No, it was far from his first gunfight. But it was the first one where he’d felt true fear.

He smoothed a few strands of hair from Mercy’s upturned face and cupped her jaw, drawing her in for a long, slow kiss. Then another. Then he kissed the tip of her nose and just drew her in, holding her until she stopped trembling. It gave him a few minutes for his own frantically beating heart to calm. If Mercy hadn’t dug those damn guns out from the garden… He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened.

Apparently, there was a downside to all this peace and contentment stuff. Having something to care about meant he had something to lose. He hadn’t had anything close to that in a long time, and he didn’t know how to feel about his change in circumstances. He didn’t like this feeling. The fear. The uncertainty. He’d been able to live his life relatively numb and unencumbered for…decades, really. All these…emotions…the worry…he wasn’t sure he was equipped to deal with it all.

Finally, he sighed and gently set Mercy away from him. “I think we better head to town and check on Jason and Josiah’s men.”

She frowned. “Do you think Josiah might’ve sent men into town while he came here?”

“It’s a good possibility. It’s what I would have done,” he said with a shrug. “And if he hasn’t yet, he will soon. I want to get those men transferred out of here as soon as possible.”

She nodded. “We haven’t had to transport prisoners in a very long time, but Jamison and the reverend will know what to do.”

Gray didn’t like that she so quickly relied on the other men to handle the situation. Totally irrational, he was fully aware. Those men had been in the town for years and knew how things were run. So, of course, they were the ones who would know what to do with the prisoners in the absence of the old sheriff. He tried to shove away the jealousy and kissed her forehead.

“Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe Martha will have lunch ready.”

Mercy punched his shoulder but laughed, and the sound eased the tension in him.