Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Twenty-five

When Mercy heard the horse ride into the courtyard, she threw open the door, ready to give Gray another earful. Either that or tie him up and hide him in the back room until he got over this ridiculous notion of running away. But it was only Jason. The fight went out of her almost immediately, and she slumped against the doorframe.

Jason dismounted, took one look at her, and nodded. “Just as I thought,” he said, pushing his way past her into the house.

“No, please, come in,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, what do you mean, it’s just as you thought?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

Jason waved a hand at her. “You. This.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to elaborate.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re just as I expected I’d find you.”

“Oh really? And how is that?”

“Just like he is. Pissing mad and absolutely heartbroken.”

Mercy’s mouth dropped open. “Heartbroken? What are you talking about? Angry, I’ll give you that, but I’m not heartbroken. If he wants to leave, he can go right ahead. Even though he promised he would stay to help with Josiah and now he’s running away right when things get really bad. He is nothing but a coward or just…lazy. That’s what it is, isn’t it? He agreed to stay, but only if all he had to do was sit there and let his name do all the work. Then we forced him to be the sheriff, and now he actually has to get off his butt every day and do something good for somebody other than himself.”

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t stop the angry rant that spilled from her. It was too unfair, hurt too bad. And Jason was the unfortunate person it was all going to spill over onto. He stood wordlessly watching her as she paced the room, venting all her fear and anger.

Mercy took a shuddering breath and kept going. “And I know he didn’t want to get married, but I told him he didn’t have to, and he said he wanted to go through with it and if he didn’t mean it then he should’ve said so. He should’ve walked away then, but he didn’t and now when we need him the most…when I need him the most…” She swallowed hard and forced the rest of it out. “Now he’s just going to leave? Well fine. He can leave. I don’t want him to stay anyway.”

“It’s okay to admit you’re hurting,” Jason said quietly.

Her gaze shot to his and the kind, knowing look in his eyes nearly broke her tenuous hold on her emotions. “Hurting?” Her voice broke on the word, and she cleared her throat, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

“Disappointed, disillusioned and…yes, okay heartbroken. Soul sick. For a brief moment, I had the type of life I had never let myself dream of having. Not that I dreamed of being married,” she said, waving her hand to dismiss that notion. “In fact, I think I always preferred to never marry. But…” She sighed, some of the fight going out of her. “Having someone there, someone who had my back, no matter what. Someone I could tell everything to. Someone who felt like…home.”

She looked back at Jason, his face blurring through her tears. “For just a brief, crushing moment, I thought maybe I’d found that.”

Jason reached for her. “Mercy—”

She spun out of his grasp, her anger burning through her with renewed fire. “He had no right to come here and change everything and then just leave. He thinks he can simply turn his back on everything? On me? Well fine. Who needs him? I did fine before he came into my life, and I’ll do just fine now that he’s gone.”

And if there was a Gray-size hole in her heart… Well, she would just have to deal with it.

“It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know?” Jason said. “Hell, I’m not fine, and I don’t even love the man.”

Her eyes shot back to his again. She desperately wanted to deny that she loved him but couldn’t make her mouth form the words. So she ignored that statement, focused on the rest.

“I’ll deal with it. I’m good at dealing with things. I’ve always had to be the one to deal with things.”

Should have known better than to hope she may have found the companion she’d always longed for. “I should have known better. Well”—she shook her head—“I won’t let it happen again.”

“He’s hurting, too, you know,” Jason said.

“What?”

“Gray. He’s hurting, too. I’ve never seen him like this before—and believe me I’ve been following him for a long time. I’ve never seen that man show any emotion except annoyance. But this… What he’s going through since the moment he walked out your door… He’s in hell.”

Mercy crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her chin in the air, ignoring the pain throbbing in her injured arm and swallowing past the hard lump that rose in her throat. “Good. I hope he regrets it for every day of his life.”

“He will,” Jason said. “He already does.”

Mercy blew out a frustrated breath and dropped into a chair. “If he feels that badly, then why is he leaving?”

“Because he’s a stubborn, cranky, hermit of a man who thinks he’s doing the right thing. He doesn’t think he has any other choice.”

“He’s got less brains than a goat,” Mercy said.

Jason laughed. “I agree. I tried to tell him that and so did Doc and Preacher. And when he wouldn’t listen and insisted on being noble and sacrificing his happiness for the good of the town and the woman he loves—”

Mercy’s head jerked up and she stared at Jason in shock. He just smiled at her. “When that didn’t work, we marched him across the street to the tavern and got him drunk. Well, hopefully.”

Her mouth dropped open even farther at that. “Did you say you got him drunk?”

Jason laughed. “I said hopefully. That was the plan anyway, and he seemed ready and willing. And frankly, I don’t think it’ll take long, either. As far as I know, he’s only had a drink maybe a handful of times in his life. I doubt he can hold much liquor.”

“I…I can’t believe he would do something like that. He might be lazy, but he’s also very keen on keeping sober so his senses and reflexes are sharp when he needs them.”

Jason sighed and leaned against the back of the armchair. “He doesn’t want to leave you, Mercy. You said you always wanted someone who felt like home. Well, I think it’s the same for him. And I think for the first time he finally feels like he’s found it. Like he has a place where he belongs. People…one in particular,” he said, nodding at her, “who he belongs to.”

“Yet, he’s still leaving.”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe he figures it’s better to leave than risk losing everything he loves.”

Her eyes widened. “You think he loves me?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. Do you love him?”

Mercy didn’t answer, too many emotions crashing over her to articulate anything. And the man before her was the wrong person to tell them to anyway.

She pushed out of the chair and stalked to the door.

“Where are you going?” Jason asked.

“My husband is making a mistake,” she said.

“Yeah. So what are you going to do about it?” he said, hot on her heels.

Mercy took a long, shuddering breath and grabbed the reins of his horse. “Well, I’m certainly not going to let him leave,” she said. “Get me on this horse.”

Jason grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

He mounted and hauled her up on the horse behind him. “Hold tight,” he said, and she wrapped her one good arm around his waist as he spurred his horse into a gallop. If what they said about Gray being drunk was true, she probably didn’t have to worry about him disappearing on her just yet. But she needed to see him. Needed to make sure he knew how she felt and, if truth be told, she kind of wanted to see what Gray drunk looked like. But mostly she wanted to tell him that she loved him and…maybe he would say it in return. And then…who knew. But she couldn’t let him leave without telling him.

When they made it into town, Birdie was still tied up in front of the jailhouse, her snores rumbling the windowpanes. Mercy breathed a sigh of relief. Gray wouldn’t be going anywhere until that horse woke up. For all his grumbling about her, he loved that old nag.

The moment Jason pulled to a stop, Mercy kicked her leg over and slid down, marching straight into the tavern before Jason could even tie up the horse. The moment she pushed through the door, she drew up short, her eyes going wide. Gray was slumped over the bar, an almost empty glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Gray?” she said, not sure if she should be concerned or give in to the urge to laugh.

He swung around, the last of the whiskey in his glass flying out in a large amber arc through the air.

“Mercy?” He squinted like he was trying to bring her into focus.

She stared, not believing what she was seeing. Granted, she had only known him a short time, but in all those weeks she had never seen him drink anything other than water and coffee, with the occasional lemonade. He wouldn’t even drink a mild cider let alone something as debilitating as the whiskey in his hand. He didn’t look as bad as Frank usually did—Frank actually looked pretty good at the moment, sitting two stools away and watching Gray with a bemused expression. But…her husband didn’t look great. She shook her head and turned to the bartender.

“How many of those has he had?” she asked.

“Just two. The one in his hand would be number three, but I don’t think he actually got any of it down.”

She shook her head again. Okay, so apparently the man couldn’t hold his liquor. At all.

“I’m not drunk,” he said, though his words were slightly slurred. He squinted at her again. “What are you doin’ here? You should be home, restin’. Iz not safe out here.”

He put a hand on the bar to help push himself to his feet, and he managed to stand steady for about half a heartbeat before he began tilting to the left. Doc was immediately there to prop him up and help him back to the stool.

She planted her one good hand on her hip. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Last I heard, you couldn’t wait to get out of town. You must have thrown your belongings in those saddlebags so fast Birdie’s head spun and yet here you are having a drink with your buddies.”

He made a visible effort to open his eyes wide enough to focus on her. “I was on my way out, but I had to stop at the sheriff’s office to leave my badge. An’ tell Jason to take care of you.”

Her tenuous hold on her anger broke. “It’s not Jason’s job to take care of me! First of all, I can take care of myself just fine. And second of all, if there was anybody else who had the job, it would be you. That was what you vowed to do, remember? Stay with me in sickness and in health, for better or worse? Well, this is definitely what I would call worse, and yet at the first sign of trouble, you go running.”

“Trouble?” He pushed back to his feet, his eyes clearing a little with the force of emotions running across his face. “This isn’t trouble. It’s multiple gunmen showing up in town to try and kill me and shoot everyone who happens to stand in the way!”

“So? You’re supposed to be the best gunfighter in the west. This is your home, you stubborn mule of a man! So stay and fight for it!”

“I can’t, damn you!”

“Why not?” she shouted, almost nose to nose with him.

“Because if something happens to you, I’ll never survive!”

She sucked in a breath, too stunned to say another word. His eyes squeezed close, and he breathed deeply through his nose a few times. Then he rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, and Mercy realized he’d lost his hat somewhere. She wanted to smooth her fingers through the unruly strands, and cup his scruffy, wonderful face. She knotted her fist in her skirts to keep from reaching for him.

“I’ve never had a place before,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Since my parents died…I’ve never had a place…never had people…someone…” Gray swallowed hard. “Walkin’ away might be the hardest thing I’ll ever do. But it’s easier than watchin’ anyone here die. Watchin’ you die. And being the cause of it.”

Mercy lifted her hand to her cheeks, surprised to find that they were wet. “I think you love me, Gray Woodson,” she whispered.

Gray smiled at her, slow and sweet, and nodded. “More than I love a nap.”

She laughed, though it came out in hiccups and giggles, and buried her face in her hands. He gently pried them off.

“I love you, Mercy Woodson. Despite the fact that you nearly burn down the house every time you cook, and always smell like apples, which I really used to hate, but I think they might be growing on me, and even though you argue with every word out of my mouth—really, you could let a few go every now and then—and you won’t stop nagging me about the list of chores you always have lined up for me that we both know I’m never going to do. And you never let me nap in peace, and worse, you keep letting Sunshine in the house even though I’ve repeatedly forbidden him to step foot—”

She held up a finger. “Gray.”

“Yes?” he asked with that lopsided grin she loved so well.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

His grin widened. “Yes, ma’am.”

His lips captured hers and he pulled her to him, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other trailed up her neck until he cupped the back of her head. He kissed her until the room began to spin and she had to cling to him to keep on her feet. He didn’t let her up for air until someone let out a long whistle and numerous people broke out in cheers and applause.

Mercy broke the kiss and glanced at the audience she hadn’t realized had grown to more than sixty people. Their argument must have been louder than she’d thought. Either that or some of her more enterprising friends had run out and pulled people in off the streets for the show, because the tavern was about full to bursting. And every set of eyes was on them.

“Um, maybe we should go somewhere more…private,” she said, and their audience issued a near unified gasp of dismay.

“Ah, come on, you two, don’t shut us out now,” Mrs. DuVere said. “It was just getting good.”

Gray snorted and Mercy dropped her head to his chest. He kissed the top of her head and then took her face in his hands, gently turning her to look at him.

“Why did you come here?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “To tell you that you’re making a mistake, and I love you too much to let you leave.”

A collective sigh went up around them and her cheeks flamed hot again.

“Well, damn,” Gray said and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I never believed in miracles before but…now I just might.” Then he shrugged. “Either that or you haven’t the sense God gave a worm, and I’d be well advised to cut tail and run as fast as I can.”

“Gray!” she said, playfully slapping his arm.

He chuckled and pulled her in against his side.

“Come on, wife. Let’s go home.” He led her to the door, still a little wobbly on his legs as they waded through the crowd and stepped outside.

Hope flashed through her, so strong it made her knees weak, and she pulled him to a stop. “So…you’re staying then?”

His smile dimmed. “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Gray…”

Then a shot rang out, echoing so loudly her ears throbbed with the sound.

Gray’s arm fell away from her waist, and she stood there. Alone.