Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Eight

Mercy didn’t see Gray again until suppertime, and while he came promptly when called in to eat, he sat silently at the table, avoiding her eyes. If he thought that would keep her from speaking to him, he was sorely mistaken—however, she could wait until after they’d both eaten.

“What’s that?” he asked when she put the food in front of him.

“Lemon chicken.”

“Is it supposed to be black?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. The char gives it better flavor.”

Or at least that’s what her father had said whenever she’d made it. If she could ever make it without burning it one of these days, she’d be able to compare, though she really did like the char flavor. With this dish, at least.

Gray tucked in, the only sound coming from him an occasional grunt as he gnawed on his supper. Halfway through the meal, a knock sounded at the door, and Gray and Mercy both froze.

“Probably just someone from town,” she said, though her hammering heart betrayed her nerves.

She rose to answer the door, but Gray motioned for her to stay behind him.

“Might as well earn my keep,” he muttered.

She couldn’t argue with that.

She hung back as he pulled open the door and then jumped when he uttered a sharp curse followed by a “No!” and slammed the door.

“What in the world…”

Gray stomped away, then turned to come back before stomping away again, all the while saying, “No. No. Nope. Not again. I said no, I meant no. Not only no, but hell no.” He glanced at Mercy. “Pardon my language,” he grudgingly added. Nice sentiment, though she didn’t know why he bothered, since his foul language usage in front of her had never seemed to bother him before.

“What is going on?” she asked.

But he was too busy stomping and swearing to answer.

Mercy blew out an exasperated breath and opened the door. A young man stood there, immaculately dressed with nary a wrinkle in his three-piece suit and brocaded vest, his dusty boots the only thing betraying the hours he must have spent in the saddle to get to Desolation. His face beamed with a brilliant smile at the sight of her.

“Hello there,” he said, removing his hat, his fingers quickly smoothing over his thick, curly, dark-brown hair until it was as neat as the rest of him. “Might I speak with Mr. Wood—”

Gray pushed past her, held up a finger, and said, “No!” again, before once again slamming the door.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, what is all this about?” she asked.

Gray just glowered some more and said, “Him,” jabbing his finger at the door.

She narrowed her eyes and pulled the door open again. The young—and very handsome, she couldn’t help noticing—man still stood in the same spot. He gave her a jaunty wave.

“Anyone who irritates Gray to this degree is welcome in my house,” she said, standing aside to usher the gentleman in.

Gray sputtered in outrage, but she ignored him.

“Thank you, kindly, Mrs.…?”

“Miss,” she said, returning his friendly smile. “Mercy Douglas.”

“I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Douglas. I’m Jason Sunshine.”

Her eyebrows rose at that, but it wasn’t the strangest name she’d ever heard. “Sunshine is an unusual last name.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Not the one I was born with, either, but my mama always said I was her very own ray of sunshine and the name just sort of stuck.”

“It does, indeed, fit you,” Mercy agreed.

Gray snorted, and she shot him a scathing look before turning a pleasant smile back on Jason.

“So, Mr. Sunshine, what brings you to Desolation?”

Before he could answer, Gray jumped in. “He’s been followin’ me around like a newborn duck for weeks. Wanting to learn the ‘tricks of the trade.’” Mercy raised her brows, but Gray had turned to Jason.

“There aren’t any tricks. Shoot faster than the other guy. End of lesson. Now go away.”

Jason simply grinned at Gray, who threw his hands up and stormed back to the table, resuming his meal with a great deal of muttering and dish clattering.

Mercy glanced back at Jason, struck again at the fresh good looks of him. Not that she was on the market, even without her fake engagement to Gray. But she wasn’t dead, either. Mr. Sunshine was just pure adorable. He couldn’t be more than twenty-two or so…maybe twenty-five, with a chiseled jawline that could cut glass. And despite his supposed choice of professions, he had a cheerful, innocent quality to him that was very appealing. If Gray was a thunderstorm, this man was the bolt of sunshine that broke through the dark clouds.

Handsome as he was, he wasn’t as interesting as Gray, though she was embarrassed to attach that word to her fiancé, even in her own mind. Gray was a surly bastard, no doubt about it. In fact, he reminded her of an old, mangy dog she’d found when she was a child. The animal had been missing an ear, most of its teeth, and had fur that was so matted it was hard to tell it was a dog at first. But it had turned out to be the sweetest old thing she’d ever met. She glanced at Gray skeptically. Maybe she had to cut away more of the matted layers before she found his sweet center.

He looked up suddenly and met her gaze, and a bolt of heat hit her straight in the gut and she sucked in a little breath. And then Gray turned that smoldering gaze of his at Jason, and he grimaced.

Mercy turned to their guest and smiled. “Mr. Sunshine, there’s plenty of food if you’d care to join us.”

Gray growled a protest, but Mercy looped her arm around the young man’s. “Ignore him.”

Jason grinned. “I’d be much appreciative of a good meal, ma’am.”

Gray snorted at that. “You haven’t tried it yet.”

She threw a quick glare his way before ushering Jason to the kitchen. “If you’d care to wash up first, there’s a rain barrel on the side of the house and some fresh towels hanging on the line.”

Jason gave her a little nod. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him hustle out the door to go wash up before rejoining Gray at the table.

He put down his chicken leg and licked his fingers, sitting back to stare at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You like him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know him.”

“You like him,” he said again.

She sighed. “Do I like a handsome young man smiling at me? Sure. What woman wouldn’t?”

Gray scowled. “He’s not that good-looking.”

Mercy ignored him and took a bite of her food, chewing a minute before giving up and swallowing the piece nearly whole. “Why won’t you teach him?”

“Same reason I won’t teach you. I’ve got no time for teachin’.”

“You’ve got nothing but time.”

He scowled again. “Fine. I’ve got no desire for it, then.”

“I can’t imagine learning to be a gunfighter is all that involved. One afternoon passing along a few tips, and he could be on his way.”

Gray grew quiet and stared at his plate long enough Mercy didn’t think he’d answer her at all. Finally, he said, “You don’t need teachin’ to die.”

His voice was so rough and pain-filled that she felt it in her own soul. She swallowed hard, trying to force a bite of dry biscuit past the sudden lump in her throat.

Gray grabbed his chicken again and took another bite. “Everyone does it eventually.”

She should probably say something profound, something that would help erase that haunted look from his eyes. But there was nothing she could think of that seemed close to adequate.

“Well,” she said, one corner of her mouth tilting up. “He seems a nice enough young man. It wouldn’t hurt you to have a few more friends in this world. Why don’t you at least try to get to know him?”

Gray snorted. “I don’t care to know anyone. Most people who know me try to kill me.”

“So, you decided on the off chance he doesn’t want to kill you that you’ll give him a reason to change his mind?”

He froze with his chicken halfway to his mouth, his lips twitching. “Something like that.”

Jason returned before she could say anything else, and she fixed him a heaping plate, which he dug into appreciatively. They spoke of minor pleasantries while they ate. Well, she and Jason spoke. Gray had gone back to his glowering grunts and occasional snarls.

“How did you find me?” he finally blurted out.

Jason glanced at him in surprise but took a quick drink of apple cider and wiped his mouth. “It took a bit of doing,” he confessed.

Gray nodded. “That’s good, I suppose. I’d hate to think it was easy for you.”

Jason grinned. “Oh, not at all. I knew you wouldn’t go back east, and north was most likely out of the question as well. I tried south at first. But when I reached the first town and no one had seen you, I knew you must have gone west.”

“Maybe I’d just managed to pass through without anyone realizing,” Gray said.

Jason shook his head, his grin growing even wider, if that was possible. “You stand out quite a bit more than you think you do.”

Mercy nodded her agreement, adding her own smile to Jason’s when Gray glowered at her.

“So, I backtracked and went west, and this was the first town I came across. And they’ve definitely seen you here.”

Gray frowned, and Mercy wondered if his face ever got tired from making that expression. Hers hurt if she smiled too much. Surely the reverse must be true as well.

“That was an excellent meal, Miss Mercy. I thank you.”

“No need to flatter her, Sunshine. She’s got no interest in you.”

Jason blinked in surprise, and Mercy stared, completely speechless.

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true,” Jason said. “I meant every word. As for her interest…” His gaze flicked to her. “I could only be so blessed as to draw her admiration.”

“We’re engaged,” Gray blurted out.

Jason’s face froze in an expression so comically stunned that Mercy had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“That’s…” The poor man seemed like he didn’t know quite what to say. He glanced at Mercy. “Congratulations?”

…

Gray frowned again. Jason’s expression was one of someone who thought they should offer condolences, but at least he managed to say the right thing, even if he looked as though someone had just told him Mercy was engaged to marry a two-faced dancing billy goat.

“You seem surprised,” Gray said, though even he knew pointing this out was ridiculous. Everyone was surprised, including Gray himself.

Jason laughed a little, obviously flustered. “It is a bit surprising, I suppose. You’ve only been in town a few days, after all. And knowing what I do of you—”

“You don’t know me,” Gray said, his words low and sharp.

All amusement faded from Jason’s face, and he regarded Gray a moment before nodding. “Perhaps not. I apologize. I truly am happy for you. Both of you. Curious, I confess,” he said, back to grinning again. “But happy, nonetheless.”

Mercy watched Gray, her brow slightly furrowed. He figured she’d explain the situation, but minutes passed, and she still didn’t say a word. The woman was gonna drive him to drink. First, he couldn’t get her to shut up, and now, when he actually wanted her to natter on, she sat quietly and blinked at him.

He sighed and dropped his biscuit. “It’s a…mutual arrangement.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

Gray waved toward Mercy, having no desire to go over all the details with the little twit, if he could even remember them all. He let Mercy fill him in on the now-missing sheriff and Josiah and his crew. Though the fact that they hadn’t heard anything from that quarter since the day he’d arrived had him wondering if Mercy had exaggerated the situation there. Then again, Gray’s reputation was a powerful deterrent. If he did say so himself.

Jason listened to Mercy with interest. Too much interest for Gray’s liking, though he could hardly complain and tell the man to stop listening when she spoke.

When she finished, Jason let out a slow whistle and grabbed another biscuit.

“Well, now. That is quite a predicament.”

Mercy nodded, and Jason glanced at Gray. “And he offered to help you out?”

She hid her smile behind her napkin. Gray pushed his plate away from him, hot anger souring the already leaden dinner in his gut.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jason held his hands up. “Nothing at all. Just that…well, you’re not exactly the most helpful type under normal circumstances.”

Gray’s eyes narrowed. “Circumstances can change.”

“Obviously.”

He leaned forward. “You think you could do a better job protecting her? Maybe you’d like to marry her, then?”

“I’d be honored,” Jason said with a huge smile. “If you’re so against the idea…”

Gray snorted. “She’d eat you for breakfast and spit you back out before lunch. You’re still too wet behind the ears, kid.”

Mercy glared at him. “Kindly refrain from referring to me as some sort of man-eating monster.”

“My apologies,” Gray said, “I’m just going off my limited experience.”

Her eyes flashed, and Gray’s pulse hammered. Damn, she was a lively woman.

“Perhaps your experience would be a little more to your liking if you didn’t spend the few waking moments of your day trying to drive me to drink.”

She crossed her arms, and it was damn near impossible to keep his gaze from glancing down to take measure of her dress pulled tight across her plump breasts. Of course, her next words yanked his gaze right back to hers.

“Well, at least he’s young enough to be capable of keeping a wife happy. Not sure you can say the same. They do call you Quick after all.”

She looked him up and down with a dubious expression that would have had him searching for his balls in his younger years.

“Quick Shot. As you well know. And I’m perfectly capable of keeping a wife happy, woman, if I cared to take one.”

“So you say.” She sat back in a huff.

“I do say. He can’t have you, anyway. We’ve already told the town about our engagement. Changing now would cause more issues than I’m sure you want to deal with.”

She sighed. “I never suggested changing fiancés.”

He frowned. No, she hadn’t. Damn Sunshine. For some reason, his mere suggestion that he take Gray’s place had gotten him all discombobulated. He didn’t like the thought of Jason anywhere near Mercy. Gray was the one with a verbally binding agreement to be her man. Not that he wanted the job. But he certainly didn’t want Sunshine waltzing in and replacing him. He pinned Jason with a glare that would have most men pissing in their boots.

Jason, who had been watching them, his head swiveling back and forth like an inebriated owl, just smiled and crammed more biscuit into his mouth.

“Where are your guns?” he asked, motioning to Gray’s empty holsters.

He’d stashed the guns again once they’d returned home, to keep them all safe from Mercy, though he’d kept the holsters on. More out of habit than anything. It was bad enough not having the weight of the guns against his hips. The holsters were going to stay where they were for the time being.

Mercy snickered. “They’re stashed in the flour drawer.”

“Dammit,” Gray said, shoving himself out of his chair to go retrieve them. Now he’d have to find a new hiding spot. Not that the flour drawer had been ideal, seeing as how she dipped into it often. He held them up and grimaced. Not to mention the fact that they were now coated with flour and would have to be cleaned.

When he returned, Mercy was explaining why he kept hiding his guns.

“So, you won’t teach her either?” Jason asked. “At least now I know it’s not something personal against me.”

Gray scowled. “No, it’s very personal against you.”

Jason waved him off and took another gulp of his apple cider.

Gray slumped into his chair and watched him. “Why do you want to be a gunfighter, anyway? It’s not some noble profession.”

“That depends on your definition of noble,” Jason said.

“Your mother sure as hell won’t be proud of you for it.”

Jason shrugged. “My mother died when I was ten, and frankly, she’d just be happy to see me safe and making a decent living.”

“You have an interesting understanding of the words safe and decent.” Gray’s eyes narrowed. Sunshine was certainly a stubborn bastard. “You got lawmen constantly on your tail.”

Jason shook his head. “You’ve used that one before, but I’ve been following you for weeks and I haven’t seen one lawman after you. And you certainly don’t seem overly concerned about running into one. Especially considering your current arrangement,” he said with a wink at Mercy.

Gray shrugged. “That’s because I never start the fight. You never start the fight, it’s self-defense. Not my fault, so there’s nothing to charge.”

“Interesting,” said Jason. “See, I’m learning so much from you already. Imagine what I could learn if you were actually trying to teach me something. Don’t start the fight. Got it.”

“No, that’s not… You can’t just…”

Jason and Mercy both watched him with quizzical expressions, and he threw his hands up.

“You two… You just…” He growled in frustration, jumping up so fast, his chair squeaked against the wooden floor, and marched out the door. He needed a break.

He stood on the porch for a moment, surveying the yard. He slapped his hand against his thigh and a cloud of flour puffed up. Damn. His guns. Where was he going to stick them this time?

One of the goats meandered by, gave him a lazy bleat, and continued on her way past the garden. Hmm. The garden. Mercy frequented the garden, of course, but only to pull specific items. It might do for a few days.

He found an out of the way corner and scraped out a foot or so of soft earth with a small spade he’d found nearby. He wrapped the guns in a mostly clean bandana he’d pulled from his pocket. Then he laid them in the hole and buried them.

The dirt falling over the bundle sent a curious pang through him. Almost as though he were presiding over his own burial. Not such a stretch of the imagination, really. Those guns were a part of him. Had saved his life on more than one occasion. Had been his most trusted companions for most of his life. He’d frankly expected to be buried with them. Probably because of them. Instead, he was burying them to avoid them poisoning other people’s lives.

An odd thought. But apt. Those guns were his saviors and executioners, all in one.

And those two in the house wanted him to teach them to live as he did? They didn’t know what they asked, and he wasn’t going to enlighten them.

Not that he really knew how to teach anything. He hadn’t meant to live the life he’d ended up in. He’d always been good with a gun. There’d been an overabundance of rats on the farm where he’d been raised. His grandfather had let him practice shooting them when the cats proved unable to keep the rodent population down, and he’d gotten good. And fast. A skill he hadn’t made widely known. Not that there were many to tell.

His skills with the cards, on the other hand, well that he exploited to the best of his exceptional ability. He’d made a decent living of playing cards. And then one day he’d won too large a hand against the wrong man. Gray hadn’t even known the man. Or his reputation. He’d certainly had no plans to utilize his skills. Until after the man had gone for his gun and Gray had reacted without thinking. It had been as the man had lain bleeding at Gray’s feet that he’d learned he’d killed a notorious gunfighter. The loudmouths who’d spread the story had sealed his fate.

And he’d have no part of sending anyone else to a similar fate. He’d lived far past the time anyone, including himself, had expected. Gray had earned his retirement.

He stood and brushed the dirt from his hands, sucking in a deep breath of cool evening air. Despite all that had gone on since arriving in Desolation, there was still a sense of peace here that he hadn’t found anywhere else in his travels. He didn’t know what it was about the place. The town was certainly nothing special. The land around him was covered with apple trees, which did nothing to endear it to him. Yet, something about this place called to him. Tempted him to stay.

“Gray! I’m cuttin’ the pie if you want some!” Mercy stood silhouetted in the warm light from the house, waving at him to come in.

Gray rubbed his stomach, a faint smile tugging on his lips.

Pie.

He’d worry about all the things that might force him to leave this place tomorrow. Because he knew one thing for certain. No way that Josiah character or his men were as easy to scare off as the morally dubious sheriff.