Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Seventeen

Gray walked toward Frank, not quite sure how to go about doing this. He’d never arrested anyone before, and he’d somehow escaped ever being captured himself. The prisoners who were on their way to the judge didn’t count, since he hadn’t technically arrested them.

He stopped in front of Frank, who was half-heartedly trying to help right the cart that he had toppled again, much to the dismay of Martha as he was doing more damage than good. She swatted at him, and he backed up, tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass in the street.

“Frank,” he said.

The man looked up at him, blinking his bloodshot eyes. “Who you?” he said, his words slurred.

Gray pointed to the star on his chest and Frank squinted. “Ah, look at that. We got a new sheriff?”

“Apparently,” Gray said.

“Is it time to get arrested?”

Gray nearly smiled. “Happen often, does it?”

“Ah sure. Once or twice a week at least.” He stumbled to his feet. “I don’t mind, though. The sheriff…the other one, not you,” he said, pointing somewhere to the right of Gray, “was kind of an ass, but he usually gives me a nice cup of coffee and lets me sleep a little.”

“Huh,” Gray said. “Well, I can’t offer you coffee…” He was starting to feel like he might be running a hotel instead of a jail. “I don’t have a new kettle yet. The last sheriff made off with the old one.”

“The sheriff stole the coffeepot? You gonna arrest him, too?”

Gray’s lips twitched before he could stop them. “Well, I’d like to, though I suppose I don’t rightly know for sure if he stole it exactly. It may have been his.”

“Huh. So, no coffee?”

Gray shook his head. “Keep up, Frank, we covered that already.”

“Right,” Frank said with a wink.

“Actually, Sheriff,” Martha said. “I was bringing you this along with your lunch, which I will have to go remake,” she said with a glare at Frank. “But you can take this with you now.”

She handed him a shiny new kettle and a small bag of ground coffee.

“Oh, well thank you kindly, Miss Martha.”

She smiled, then turned one last glare on Frank before continuing gathering up the mess in the street.

“I’ll take the pot,” Mercy said, plucking it from Gray’s hands before he could object. “You’ve got your hands full.”

They both looked down at Frank, and Gray sighed.

Jason came rushing down the stairs from his new apartment and hurried over to help Martha.

“Sorry, Sheriff. I didn’t realize there’d been trouble.”

“Not trouble so much as Frank here having a few coordination issues. And don’t call me sheriff.”

Jason opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again. “But you are the sheriff.”

Gray grimaced at him.

“You know,” Jason said with a grin, “if we’re going to be colleagues, I should probably call you something more familiar. To reflect our new working relationship.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I think I’ll call you Woody.”

“You do and I’ll shoot you.”

“What? It’s friendly. Makes you seem more approachable.”

“I don’t want to seem friendly or more approachable.”

Jason grinned again. “I like it. Woody it is.”

Gray turned to Mercy. “Please let me kill him.”

She just smiled and patted his cheek. “No more killing. For today, anyway, Woody.” She walked back to his office, her laughter echoing across the street. Gray sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He should have turned tail and run the second he’d come across Desolation.

“Fine. You can call me Sheriff.”

Jason nodded and then turned back to helping Martha. Gray bit his lip to keep from grumbling. It had probably been ridiculous to fight him on it to begin with. He was the sheriff, after all. But he didn’t think he was ever going to get used to that.

Jason righted the cart that had been knocked over and scooped up the plate that had held Gray’s lunch. “That’s a shame,” Jason said. “That looked good.”

Martha blushed. “There’s more on the stove. I’d be happy to bring you some when I bring over the sheriff’s.”

“Well, that would be real kind of you, thank you, Miss Martha.”

Gray looked back and forth between the two, but they weren’t paying any attention to him.

“So, you just stay and,” Gray waved his hand to encompass the mess in the street, “help her take care of all that.”

Jason half nodded in his direction but kept talking to Martha as he handed her things.

“Come on, Frank,” Gray said, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt to get him pointed in the right direction. “I’m afraid I don’t have any handcuffs or anything for you. I’ll try to have them next time.”

“Ah, that’s no matter, Sheriff. I don’t like them much anyhow.”

Gray snorted and held out his hand, gesturing for Frank to walk ahead of him. “You play cards, Frank?”

…

Gray settled onto the jailhouse porch and surveyed the town. He had been sheriff, and a married man, for an entire week, which was exactly seven days longer than he’d thought he’d last on both fronts. The sheer fact that he hadn’t been run out of town yet was something he still had trouble wrapping his mind around. Nope, these people made him their sheriff and seemed thrilled he agreed to take the job. There had to be something wrong with them. He just hadn’t figured it out yet.

All was quiet in town today, for the most part. Some raucous laughter broke out every now and then from somewhere, but it was far enough away that Gray wasn’t worried about it. Not that laughter was against the law, of course. But something about it sounded like whoever was behind it was up to no good. More power to them as long as they kept it to themselves. He could always send Sunshine out to investigate if necessary. The kid was turning out to be quite useful.

As for the whole sheriff gig, the most surprising thing about it so far had been how little Gray minded the job. Aggravating at times, sure. But…it wasn’t boring. He was getting to know—and he feared, getting to like—the townspeople, and for some reason they didn’t hate him. He couldn’t figure out why. He certainly didn’t trust it. No one ever wanted him around for long. Especially because trouble always found him, even when he actively tried to avoid it.

For the moment, however, life was relatively peaceful. Gray had no doubt it wouldn’t last. But he could enjoy it while it did. Maybe he’d go arrest Frank today so they could get in a few hands of cards. He was sure to be causing problems somewhere.

First, though, Gray was going to enjoy the pleasant weather, since it wouldn’t be around much longer, and take a little nap.

He kicked his chair back to lean against the wall and propped his feet up on the railing. He’d just pulled his hat down over his eyes when that laughter he’d been hearing rounded the corner.

Gray peeked out from under his hat. Three young men, probably no more than eighteen or so, were chasing a goat down the road. The creature had several sticks tied to its ankles with string and was frantically trying to get away from them while the boys chased it, laughing.

Why did that goat look familiar?

Gray was out of his chair and had fired a warning shot in the air before the teenagers had even noticed he was sitting there. Everyone froze, even the goat, and stared at him.

He came toward them and the boys all cast anxious looks at each other.

“Sheriff,” one of them stammered. “Is there a problem?”

The goat head-butted him on the leg. Yup. He thought it’d looked familiar.

“Two problems. One, I was trying to take a nap and you boys runnin’ around town causin’ all this ruckus disturbed me. I’m sure you’re disturbin’ other people, too,” he added, since he was supposed to be lookin’ out for everyone’s peace, after all, not just his own.

“We’re sorry, Sheriff. We didn’t mean to be disturbing anyone. Just tryin’ to have a bit of fun.”

Gray nodded. “Fun is fine, but I expect you to have a little more consideration when you’re in town.”

They nodded hastily.

“And two.” Gray pointed at the goat that was kicking at the string around her legs. “That goat belongs to my wife.”

All three faces drained of color. One of the boys turned tail and ran, but Gray pinned the other two with a stare that had them frozen in place.

Before he could tell them to return the goat to Mercy’s place, Mercy herself rounded the corner in the wagon and barreled straight for them, her face a mask of outraged maternal righteousness.

“You two!” she said, hopping down from the wagon. “And where’s the other one?”

“Ran off that way,” Gray said, jerking his head up the street. She lurched to a halt, her skirt tangled up in the trapping of the wagon. She muttered a curse that had him beaming with pride as she yanked on the material.

To the boys, he said, “You wake me up again, I’m arrestin’ you. Spread the word. And stay away from the animals.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, their eyes bouncing between him and the furious woman about to brain them with a wooden spoon.

He glanced at Mercy, who had nearly worked herself free and nodded back at them. “You better run.”

They took off just as she pulled the material loose and made to chase after them. Gray caught her around the waist, lifting her off her feet.

“Ah, let ’em go, darlin’. They didn’t hurt the old thing.”

“Gray! Put me down!”

“Well, I would, but then you’d go after them, which would probably end with me havin’ to arrest my own wife for murder, and I just don’t feel like dealin’ with the paperwork that kind of situation probably entails.”

She kept struggling against him. “If you don’t let me go, you’re going to be sorry.”

He held her tighter and brought his lips close to her ear. “If you don’t stop squirmin’, we’re both going to be sorry. Because just about everyone in town is going to find out just how much I’m enjoyin’ your wriggling.”

She immediately stopped. To his dismay. Sure, he didn’t exactly want to display just how tight his britches had grown below the waist, but he didn’t exactly want her to stop making it worse, either.

She blew out her breath with a huff. “I can’t believe you just let them go.”

“I can’t believe you were going to assault them with that spoon,” he said, plucking it out of her hand. “I’d have to arrest you for that, you know.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, you’d arrest me, but not them even though they assaulted poor Lucille?”

“On second thought”—Gray glanced down at her hands—“you’d probably look good in the handcuffs.”

She glared at him again, but the anger had left her face and he could tell she was fighting a smile. “You aren’t putting me in handcuffs.”

“Never say never,” he said, waggling his eyebrows until she laughed and shook her head.

“I’m surprised you didn’t arrest those hooligans for waking you up.”

His eyes narrowed. “The thought crossed my mind. But then you showed up, and I had the choice between a bloodbath or a prisoner escape. Letting them go seemed the more prudent choice. They were warned they would be arrested if they did it again.”

She snorted. “Did what again? Steal my goat or wake you from your nap?”

“How did you know I was nappin’?”

She chuckled. “Lucky guess. Put me down. I have to help Lucille.”

He glanced at the goat chewing on the string wrapped around her legs. “If you must.”

He released her, watching as she knelt to untangle the goat.

“You could help, you know.”

He folded his arms and leaned back against the railing on the jailhouse porch. “I could, but then I wouldn’t be able to stand here watching you.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, though her smile took the heat out of the words.

“You like me that way.”

She shrugged. “You’re growing on me.” She finished freeing the goat and scooped her up to load into the wagon.

Gray was going to help her, but she had the goat settled in the back of the wagon before he’d made it over there. He shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“You don’t really need anyone for anything, do you?”

She frowned a little. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing to be able to take care of myself.”

“That wasn’t my intention. I love how independent you are. Makes my life easier.”

She chuckled and shook her head, but after a few moments she glanced back at him. “Everyone needs someone,” she said quietly. “Even if they can take care of themselves.”

He moved closer, brushed his thumb across her cheek. “And who do you need?”

She stared up at him, and he felt himself falling into those deep blue eyes of hers. He cupped her face, and she opened her mouth to say something. Before she could, though, Jason rode up and dismounted, tying his horse in front of the jailhouse.

Gray sighed. The kid had impeccable timing. He released his wife and stepped back.

“Was there trouble?” Jason asked, his brow creased in concern.

“Just some youths harassing Lucille,” Gray said, jerking his thumb at the goat.

“Ah, not Lucille.” Jason went around to the back of the wagon to pet the goat, who bleated at him happily. Was there anyone in town who didn’t love the guy? Besides Gray himself?

“Why don’t you come out for supper,” Mercy said to Jason. “We haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Not true,” Gray said. “I see him every day.”

Mercy shot him an exasperated look, and he held up his hands and turned back to Jason. “Yes. Please come,” he said, making the words as forced and monotone as he could.

Jason, true to form, didn’t take the bait. “I’d love to. Not much for me to do around here, since we don’t have any prisoners that need watching. Unless we picked one up since I’ve been gone?” he asked Gray.

Gray shook his head. “It’s been pretty quiet. How did things go at Mrs. Burkett’s? Did you catch the thief?”

Mercy frowned in concern. “Mrs. Burkett had a thief?”

Jason snorted. “Someone was stealing vegetables from her garden. I’m pretty sure she knew exactly who it was, too, before I got there.”

“So, you caught him?” Gray asked.

Jason had gone over to his saddle bag and flipped it open. “Yep.” He pulled out a large rabbit by its ears.

“Oh,” Mercy said, hurrying over to take it.

Gray folded his arms across his chest. “Mrs. Burkett reported a thief, so we’d come get a rabbit out of her garden?”

Jason shrugged. “Apparently.”

“How is that the job of the sheriff?” Gray asked Mercy.

She just smiled and added the rabbit to the back of the wagon with Lucille. “She needed help. You helped her.”

Gray opened his mouth to argue and then snapped it shut again and rubbed at his temple, which had begun to throb.

“Why don’t you two head on out?” Jason said. “I’ll handle things here until supper.”

Mercy glanced at Gray, who didn’t need to be told twice to leave. He was climbing up to the bench of the wagon almost before Jason had finished talking. Mercy rolled her eyes and tried to untie Gray’s horse from the post. Birdie, however, was snoring where she stood and refused to budge.

“She’s nappin’,” Gray said. “She’s not goin’ to move until she wants to wake up.”

“Sounds familiar,” Mercy muttered.

Jason laughed. “I’ll bring her along when I come out.”

“Thanks. Supper will be in about two hours,” she said, climbing up next to Gray. Jason nodded, tipping his hat to them as Gray snapped the reins to get them moving.

“Slow down,” she said, laughing. “People will think you can’t wait to get out of here.”

Gray chuckled. It had been a long time since he wondered, or cared, what anyone else thought of him. And that wasn’t changing now. Except with maybe one exception. He glanced at Mercy, who was holding onto her hat with one hand and the bench with the other.

She was laughing but said, “If you don’t slow down, you’re going to bounce poor Lucille right out of the wagon. And she’s already had such a rough day.”

Gray sighed. “All right.”

He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses to a nice steady trot.

It had only taken a few short weeks to turn him from the most feared gunslinger around to a man who catered to the delicate constitution of a spoiled goat. He couldn’t imagine what the end of the month would bring.