Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Twenty-four

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

Mercy tried to keep her tone calm, even, despite the panic that clawed its way up her throat and squeezed her heart like a vise.

Gray stared at her for a second and then straightened his back. Oh. She sucked in a breath. He was about to spew some nonsense and she wasn’t going to have any of it. She barely noticed the other people in the room, looking at each other and then hightailing it out the door as fast as they could. Her attention was all on the man who was about to destroy the fragile world they’d built.

“Mercy,” he said, his tone soft like he was talking to a skittish horse.

“Don’t Mercy me. I know what’s going through your head, Gray Woodson.”

He sighed. “I’m not going to stay here and let you die because of me.”

Her arm throbbed with the force of the blood pounding through her body, but she ignored it. “Well, aren’t you the arrogant one.”

His eyes narrowed. “Arrogant?”

“You think everything is about you. I have news for you, since you seem to have forgotten. I was in danger before you ever came here. It’s the reason why you stayed, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. And instead of helping the situation, getting Josiah out of your life, he’s now sending people to shoot at me. Only you’re the one getting hit.”

“And what makes you so sure that was an accident?”

Gray frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I am the one Josiah wants out of the way. I’m sure you’re a complication he’d like to disappear, but he doesn’t get what he wants with me alive and fighting him still. For all we know, there’s a bounty on my head, too, and me being shot has nothing to do with you. So, your leaving won’t do a damn bit of good.”

His lips pulled into a faint smile at her cursing, and her heart clenched again. What other man would ever find that endearing? What other man would be okay with her wanting to run her farm and business her way? Would let her handle her own affairs? Would be okay with her domestic shortcomings? Not that it mattered. Even if there were men lining up along the Rockies, they wouldn’t be him.

“If he was purposely aiming for you—though I don’t think he was—then my leaving still keeps you safer, because you won’t have the assassins who are gunning for me to contend with on top of everything else. Jason and Doc and Preacher are here if you truly need help. They are good men who won’t accidentally get you killed.”

“You are nine kinds of stubborn, you know that, Gray Woodson!”

He snorted. “I’m well aware of that, yeah. Doesn’t make me wrong. Josiah was a nuisance before I came. He proposed to you a lot. Tried to buy your property. He didn’t try to kill you. The assassins didn’t show up until I shot him. That’s on me. The bounty is on me. I can’t stay here and continue to risk the lives of everyone in this town.”

He came toward her, cupped her face. “I can’t…won’t…continue to risk you.”

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, clung to him. “You’re a lazy, opinionated, grumpy, washed-up criminal. By your own admission. You got no business getting all noble and self-sacrificing on me now, damn you.”

He shrugged and gave her that half grin that never failed to stop her heart. “People change.”

“Not you,” she whispered.

He dipped down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then rested his forehead against hers, gripping the back of her neck. “You are the strongest woman I know. You were doing just fine before I got here, and you’ll be fine after I leave.”

“Gray,” she whispered.

He crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with a desperate urgency that didn’t just break her heart but shattered her soul. She’d always sworn she never needed anyone. She’d been left behind too many times to ever rely on anyone else. To ever expect or even hope they’d stay. And she learned a long time ago to just let them go. Because begging them to stay only made it hurt more when they walked away. So, when Gray had wandered into her life, she’d vowed that when he wanted to walk away, as she knew he would someday, she’d let him go. She wouldn’t beg.

But as he wrenched his lips from hers and stalked toward the door, the words she’d forbidden herself to ever use tore from her lips.

“Please.” The word ended on a choked sob and she drew in a shuddering breath. “Don’t go.”

Gray’s hand clenched on the doorknob until his knuckles turned white, and for half a heartbeat she thought he might reconsider. Then his gaze met hers and she knew it was over.

“Take care of yourself, Mercy,” he said, his words gruff. Final.

And then he was gone.

…

Walking out that door had been the hardest thing Gray had ever done. Those words…please, don’t go…they would echo in his empty heart for the rest of his life. And they’d destroy him over and over every time.

He didn’t say a word to anyone as he passed them on the porch. They’d probably heard every word, and he didn’t care.

The only person who mattered just then was Mercy.

God. Even thinking her name made his heart ache and bleed.

He rode Birdie back home as fast as she’d take him, and then stood in the courtyard a full five minutes, realizing he now considered this place home.

Home.

He’d never had one before. Maybe when he was a small boy, though all he really remembered was moving from place to place. His mama had always tried to make wherever they’d ended up feel like a home. Put up the same white curtains with their little embroidered daisies on them wherever they went. But he didn’t remember anything about those places. Except his mama and those daisies.

And then he’d come here. To Desolation. To Mercy. And he’d finally felt like he was home.

Leaving it would be like ripping his heart from his chest and leaving it behind in the dirt.

But he’d do all that and more if it meant keeping Mercy safe.

He forced himself inside and packed up his belongings as fast as he could. He needed to get this over with and get out of town before he changed his mind. Before he let those words that were tearing his soul apart persuade him into staying. Into being a bigger danger for those around him. For her.

He had Birdie’s saddlebags loaded up and was on the road moments before the rumble of wagon wheels and a cloud of dust announced the imminent arrival of his wife. A flash of panic whipped at him, and he steered Birdie into the trees. Shame churned through his gut, but he didn’t hesitate to lead Birdie farther away from the main road. He couldn’t face Mercy again.

If he saw her, heard those words again, he’d never be able to leave. He’d barely been able to force himself out the door the first time, and it nearly cost him everything he was. He wouldn’t be able to do it a second time, and for her safety, he needed to leave. He caught a glimpse of the wagon as it drove by. A flash of light brown hair, its burnished highlights glinting in the sun. He rubbed his chest, though nothing he could do would ease the ache there. His fingers brushed against the golden star on his vest…the badge that had once felt so foreign but had started to become a familiar and even gratifying weight.

He’d need to leave it before he left town. He didn’t want to take it with him. Didn’t want any part of Desolation following him after he left. It would be nothing but a painful reminder of the good life he briefly had. But he couldn’t bring himself to just discard it. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to give Sunshine a few last-minute instructions.

Jason was already at the jailhouse when Gray dismounted and tied Birdie to her usual post. His deputy stood leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a look of unfamiliar disapproval on his face.

“Don’t you start,” Gray said, pushing his way past him.

Jason didn’t say anything for a moment, merely watched as Gray went to his desk, removed the star from his chest, and dropped it to the table.

“So, you’re really doing it, then,” Jason said. “Leaving just like that.”

“Yeah. Just like that.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Jason said, derision coating every word.

Gray nearly flinched but squeezed his hands into fists to keep from reacting. “Thanks.”

Jason snorted, though more from exasperation than humor. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

Gray sighed. “I’m aware of that, Sunshine. I just really don’t feel like going into all this with you. It’s none of your business.”

Jason’s jaw about dropped. “None of my business? It’s every bit of my business, especially since your leaving makes me the new sheriff.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don’t want your congratulations, damn it! I want you to be a man and stay where you’re needed. You’re the sheriff. You’re a husband. How can you just leave?”

“How?” Gray rounded on Jason, making him hastily step back. “Do you think this is easy for me?”

Jason swallowed hard, his eyes wide and anxious, but he didn’t back down. “Yeah. I do. Or you wouldn’t be doing it. You never wanted any of this in the first place. You’ve made no secret about that.”

“No. I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it now.” Gray closed his eyes and sucked in several deep breaths, trying to shove all his emotions back in the dark hole where they belonged. But it was no use. His defenses had been cracked and everything came spilling out.

“All I ever wanted when I came to this place was a nice quiet place where I could hole up and wait to die. Did it ever occur to you to ask why I wanted that so desperately?”

Jason shook his head.

“Of course not.” He took a deep breath. “I’m tired, Sunshine. So tired. Do you know how many friends I’ve watched die? How many men I considered brothers drop dead at my feet because someone was aiming for me and they got in the way? How many women I could have loved running away after the first gunman showed up trying to best me? How many times I’ve watched someone I care about leave, most times in a pine box?”

Again, Jason shook his head.

“All of them,” Gray said quietly, something breaking deep inside of him. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about. My parents…I barely remember them. And was never with anyone else long enough to get too attached. And then later…” Gray shrugged. “It came with the life. A life I never wanted. I stumbled into a gunfight one day and that was it. I signed my death sentence right then and there. I was a walking dead man. Even alive, I was no better than dead.”

Gray swallowed hard, his eyes staring at the ground though he didn’t really see it. “I should have let that man kill me that day. My life was over anyway.”

He closed his eyes and tried to shake it off. Tried to get back to that place where nothing and no one mattered. But that place didn’t exist anymore.

“I should have been dead a dozen times over by now, but I’ve somehow managed to stay alive. And despite doing my damn-level best to find a nice corner of the world to hole up and die alone in, I’ve never been able to manage that, either.” He tugged his hat lower over his eyes. “And then I find a place called Desolation. A hole in the wall in the middle of nowhere. The perfect tomb. All I had to do was sit there, let my scary name get rid of a problem, and I could die in peace.”

Jason gave him a ghost of a smile, and Gray sucked in another deep breath. “But then there was Mercy. And Doc. And Mrs. DuVere. And Preacher. And Frank. And Martha,” he said, his voice shaking. He swallowed hard and looked back up at Jason. “And even you, you persistent pain in the ass.”

Jason choked out a laugh, and Gray gave him a faint smile before sobering once again. “You all made me feel again, damn it.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to leave. But I am not going to stay here and let anyone else I care about die because of me.”

Jason nodded, his arms still crossed though now it looked more like he was hugging himself. “I get it,” he said quietly.

Gray cocked an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” A hint of his trademark smile finally peeked back out. “That doesn’t mean I like it or agree with it. But I get it.”

“That mean you’ll shut up about it?”

Jason’s grin grew wider, and Gray’s chest tightened again. He was going to miss that irritating smile.

“For the moment.”

Gray nodded. “I’ll take it.”

“Everything okay here?”

Gray and Jason both turned toward the voice. Doc stood framed in the doorway. Who knew how much he’d heard.

“The sheriff just stopped by to say goodbye,” Jason said.

Doc glanced at Gray, his face unreadable, and Gray braced himself for another berating. Instead, Doc just nodded. “Let’s get a drink.”

That wasn’t what he expected. “I don’t drink. And I should get going.”

“I know, but waiting a few more minutes won’t hurt any. Besides, Birdie is snoring. The whole town knows if she’s sleeping, you aren’t going anywhere.”

Gray rubbed a hand over his face. That damn horse.

Doc chuckled. “Come on. You’ll have to wait Birdie out anyway.”

Gray opened his mouth to argue more but… For once in his life, he could really use a drink. A real one.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Mrs. DuVere herself was behind the bar when they entered the tavern.

“Sheriff,” she said, with a distinct chill to her voice. “I thought you were headed out of town.”

“He decided to stay for a drink,” Doc said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Birdie’s asleep,” Gray mumbled.

Mrs. DuVere sized him up. “Black coffee?”

“No. Whiskey.”

Her eyebrows hit her hairline.

“Make it three,” Doc said. “On me.”

She got the glasses out and poured, never losing the surprised expression. Gray picked up his glass and sniffed. The fumes alone made his nose burn and eyes water. He’d never understand people’s partiality for the stuff. Then again, Frank seemed like a pretty happy guy most of the time. Fuzzy and often completely unaware of what was going on around him, which sounded perfect to Gray just then, come to think of it.

He glanced at Doc who took a small sip of his drink and Jason, who hadn’t touched his yet. “Here goes nothin’,” he said, and downed half his whiskey in one gulp.

And nearly gagged it back up. He eventually managed to swallow before exhaling with a pained wheeze. He’d expected strong, but sweet Mary and Joseph, his breath alone could probably peel paint now.

Still, as unpleasant an experience as that had been, the world took on an almost immediate fuzzy quality. Very nice. Maybe with enough, he’d go numb entirely. But sipping might be better than just downing the rest of it. He wanted to get drunk. Not strip his throat down to the bone. Doc laughed and slapped him on the back.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to…run an errand,” Jason said, pushing his drink toward Gray and giving Doc a look that Gray didn’t try to interpret. They could look at each other all they wanted. He just wanted to drink.

Preacher passed Jason on the way out and slid onto his vacated stool. “Mind if I join you?”

Gray turned to him. “You going to yell at me, too?”

“Nope.”

“Ask me why I’m still here when I made such a stink about leaving?”

Preacher shrugged. “I saw Birdie sleeping outside. I assumed you were waiting for her to wake up.”

Gray pushed Jason’s abandoned drink Preacher’s way. “Then have a seat.”

Preacher raised the glass to him and Doc and took a sip.

Gray gulped another large mouthful of his own and then sighed. There it went. That nice, spinning, fuzzy sensation he’d been hoping would happen.

Maybe if he held very still, he could live in that booze-induced bubble forever. That would be nice. Because the rest of the world just hurt too damn bad.