The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

  “No, thank you.”

  She gave him the coldest look he’d ever gotten, and that said a lot considering his occupation. If she wanted to fight, so be it. He’d always enjoyed sparring with her. Leaning back on the railing, he supported his weight with his hands. The duster fell open, but he didn’t think much about it. Mary knew he wore his guns all the time.

  He got down to business. “I’m gonna stay in town as long as your brother needs help.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I say it is.” He spoke so softly he barely heard himself. “Gus needs me.”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Like I was fine in New York?”

  She knew about the scar on his shoulder and how his brothers had beaten him. He’d told her the stories when they’d been alone in the dark, when his heart had been softened by her touch and she couldn’t see his embarrassment. She’d held him after more bad dreams than he cared to recall.

  Her eyes said she remembered, too. But her voice came out hard. “I understand the situation. Augustus is—”

  “You mean Gus.”

  “All right,” she said too amiably. “Gus. You’re right about his name. You’re also right about him being able to defend himself. I’ll ask a man from church to talk to him.”

  “Talking isn’t enough.”

  “It has to be.”

  “It’s not.” J.T. decided to take a chance. “Fighting is like kissing. You can talk all you want, but eventually you’ve got to do it.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Judging by the sudden blush, she remembered their kisses as well as he did. He wanted to go farther down that road, but first he had to prove that Gus needed him. “Your brother’s a good kid, but he’s puny and he stutters.”

  “I know that.”

  “If he doesn’t learn to fight, he’s going be bullied his whole life. Is that what you want for him?”

  “Of course not.”

  Tense, she dropped down on the bench and pushed off. The chains began a steady, irksome squeak. “I know Gus needs help. I just don’t think you’re the one to teach him.”

  “Sure I am.” He knew as much about fighting as anyone. “What are you worried about?”

  Instead of the boldness he expected, he saw a guardedness that didn’t fit Mary at all. In Abilene she’d spoken her mind freely. Today she looked nervous, even scared. He wondered why, but she wouldn’t tell him even if he asked. He’d have to puzzle it out for himself. He lowered his arms, hiding the guns beneath the duster. “Do you think I’ll teach Gus my bad habits?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Mary.” She truly didn’t. J.T. wanted Gus to be a good man, not a hired gun like him self.

  She lifted her chin. “Considering how you left me, why should I trust you with my brother?”

  “Because I’ve changed. I haven’t had a drink in six months, and it’s been so long since I gambled, I don’t remember how.” Not exactly. He remembered, but he needed to make a point. “There’s more. Do you want to hear it?”

  “No.” She pushed to her feet. “It doesn’t matter, because I don’t want you in Gus’s life. He’s fragile. You’ll hurt him.”

  He touched her arm. “Are we talking about Gus or you?”

  “Gus!”

  “I don’t think so.” She was close enough to kiss, and her lips were trembling. She wasn’t just angry with him. He’d opened old wounds and they were bleeding. “I’m sorry, Mary. I’m sorry I left you, sorry I…” He shook his head. He’d used her like he used liquor, and he owed her amends. “You deserve to know something else. I haven’t been with a woman since I quit drinking.”

  “J.T., don’t—”

  “Listen to me. Please.” His voice dropped to a hush. “Just one more time, Fancy Girl. I need to say this to you.”

  A tremor passed from her arm to his hand. If she told him to leave, he’d do it. But he needed to make this confession. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. When she finally looked up, he saw a bleakness that troubled him, but she nodded yes. “All right. I’ll listen.”

  He indicated the swing. She sat, but her face had lost its color. Leaning against the railing, he dragged his hand through his hair. “I don’t know where to start, exactly. Back in Abilene—”

  “I don’t want to talk about Abilene.” She sounded panicky and he wondered why. “Tell me about Fancy Girl. How did you find her?”

  “It’s more like she found me.” He told Mary about the mess at the Dudley place and how he’d made an enemy of Griff Lassen. Feeling both silly and proud, he glanced at his dog, then looked at Mary with an apologetic smile. “Imagine that…J. T. Quinn going soft over a dog.”

  She said nothing, but her eyes said she could imagine it just fine.

  The thought gave him hope. “That night I knew I had to find you. I went to Abilene, but no one knew where you’d gone.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I left in a hurry.”

  “So I figured.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  The way she said it, he wondered if it would ever be long enough to forget the shame she’d endured. J.T. knew just how long—or short—a span of time could be. “It’s been six months since I’ve tasted liquor.” He paused, because his next words were personal for them both. “Getting drunk hurts the man doing it. Using a woman hurts her. I know how that feels, because I sold my gun as surely as a prostitute sells her body. You weren’t that kind of woman to me, Mary. I cared about you, but I hurt you just the same. I’m sorry.”

  He wanted her forgiveness.

  He needed it.

  A bird twittered in a nearby tree. Laughter drifted from the crowd in the garden. Someone rang a dinner bell, startling them both. Silent as a lamb, he waited for her to speak. When she didn’t say a word, he knew she’d send him away. She wouldn’t let him near Gus, and neither would she believe him about Roy Desmond. If he told her about Roy now, he’d push her in the man’s direction. Maybe he’d send her an unsigned letter from another town, or he could shove a note under her door. With everything lost and nothing else to give, he put on his hat, pulled it low and walked down the steps.

  His boots thudded on the risers, then kicked up dust on the path. Fancy Girl followed him without being called, a consolation that eased the hurt but didn’t erase it. As he lifted the latch on the gate, he heard the creak of the swing and Mary’s footsteps hurrying down the path.

  “Wait!” she called.

  He turned and saw her running to him. She stopped a foot away, looking harried and confused and as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were shiny with tears, and her cheeks had turned from ashen to pink. Sunshine turned her hair into gold, while the brightness cast their shadows side by side.

  “I forgive you,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I forgave you a long time ago. It’s just…” She bit her lip. “No one here knows every thing that happened in Abilene. After you left, people called me a loose woman. The gossip was awful. If it started here, I’d—” she shook her head “—I’ll deal with it if I have to, but I worry about Gus and Gertie.”

  He’d come to Denver to rescue her, not to make her life hard. “No one needs to know about our past. What’s done is done.”

  “Yes.”

  Judging by her expression, she saw the flaw in his logic as plainly as he did. Their memories couldn’t be erased. He knew how she felt in his arms. He’d laughed at her silly jokes and seen her wipe her nose when she had a cold. On the flipside of the coin, she knew him even better than he knew himself. He wanted that closeness again, though he knew he had to earn it. “I won’t hurt you, Mary. I promise. I just want to help you.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you promise.” She clipped the words. “I don’t trust you, J.T.”

  “I understand.” And he did, perfectly. “I wouldn’t trust me either just yet. But someday you will. It’s
up to me to change your mind.”

  She looked peeved.

  “We’ll start with Gus.” He let his eyes twinkle as if they were in Abilene again. Though he had been ready to leave earlier, he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Mary again. “Does he like to fish? I could take him—”

  She frowned. “We need some rules.”

  “Sure.” He usually looked at rules as things to break. For Mary, he’d obey them. “What do you have in mind?”

  She stood as straight as a measuring stick. “No cussing.”

  “Agreed.” He wouldn’t be accountable if he stubbed his toe, but he’d try. He didn’t cuss much anyway.

  “And spitting.” She wrinkled her nose. “I abhor spitting.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “My dear Miss Larue, have you ever seen me spit in front of a lady?”

  She blushed. “No, but I want to be clear.”

  Feeling bold again, he clasped her arms to hold her in place. The gesture had come from the past and she stiffened, but he didn’t regret it. He wanted her to feel his sincerity. “You can trust me, Mary.”

  To seal the promise, he kissed her on the forehead. She could make all the rules she wanted, but he’d gotten what he’d wanted for six months. He had a chance to win her back. He also had a good reason to stay in Denver, where he could keep an eye on Roy Desmond. And he’d be able to prove himself by helping her brother.

  He released his grip and stepped back. “I’ll visit Gus tomorrow.”

  “That’s too soon.”

  “Then Tuesday.” He didn’t want to wait. He’d get bored, and boredom led to thoughts of liquor and cards.

  Mary shook her head. “The café is busy that day. I close early on Wednesday. You can come for supper.”

  He’d have three days to endure, but he nodded. “Wednesday it is.”

  He stepped through the gate with Fancy Girl trotting at his heels and a smile playing on his lips. He liked the idea of taking a boy fishing, so he decided to ride out of town to find a good spot. The buckskin wanted to run, and J.T. needed to burn off the rush in his blood. He and Mary had a long way to go, but today had been a good start.

  Mary watched as J.T. pivoted the buckskin, tipped his hat and took off at a gallop with Fancy Girl barking for the fun of it. When he turned the corner, she let out the breath she’d been holding. The kiss had been a vow of sorts, an apology for the past and a promise to mind his manners, but it stirred memories of other kisses, the ones she’d given to him freely. This time J.T. had done the giving, and she didn’t know what to think.

  She stared down the empty street, wondering where he’d go and realizing he hadn’t told her why he’d been near Swan’s Nest. She wanted to know, but she wouldn’t go looking for him now. She hated the thought of him in Denver, but even worse had been the guilt she’d felt when he’d walked away thinking she hadn’t forgiven him. Whether she trusted him or not, she couldn’t hold a grudge. His offer to help her brother had stunned her. She had no doubt he’d be good for Gus. In spite of the threat to her reputation, Mary couldn’t deny her brother’s need for a man in his life.

  She needed to think about what she’d tell her friends, so she headed back to the swing and sat. Adie would respect her reluctance to talk, but Caroline would ask a hundred questions. People who saw her with J.T. would speculate, and the gossip would begin even if Mary said or did nothing. She massaged her temples. Please, Lord. I need help.

  “Mary?”

  She looked up and saw Adie coming up the steps with two plates of food, one for Mary and the other presumably for J.T. Caroline stood behind her, looking both curious and kind. Mary managed a wry smile. “You found me.”

  “Is everything all right?” Caroline sat next to her on the swing.

  “I think so.”

  Adie handed her a plate, set the other on the table and sat on the chair by the steps. “Where’s Mr. Quinn?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “For good?” Caroline asked.

  “No, he’s staying in Denver.” Mary trusted her friends, but secrets had a way of leaking into everyday conversation. She wouldn’t dodge their questions, but neither would she tell the whole story. Uncovering the plate of chicken, she feigned a wry smile. “My past just caught up with me, I’m afraid.”

  Caroline, an uncontrollable matchmaker, had a sparkle in her eyes. “Bessie said he’s good-looking.”

  “Oh, he is,” Mary said casually. “A woman knows J.T.’s in a room, but he’s not likely to stay there.” She wanted to bite into the chicken to feign normalcy, but her stomach knotted. She set the plate on the table, looked at Adie and then Caroline. “I’ve never told anyone about J.T.”

  Caroline touched her arm. “Did you love him?”

  Yes! With everything in me. I was carrying his child. I wanted to marry him. How foolish she’d been. How naive about men. Lowering her gaze, she whispered, “I thought I did.”

  Caroline gripped her hand. The brunette had lost a husband after the War Between the States. He’d been a man of color, and she’d kept the marriage a secret from everyone except Bessie. She’d understand if Mary blurted the truth about J.T., but Mary couldn’t take the risk.

  Adie offered a hankie. Mary took it and wiped her eyes. “I expected too much from him.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Adie said gently. “You wanted what most women want. A husband. A family of her own.”

  Mary thought of the baby she’d lost and the hole it had left in her life. Adie didn’t know about the miscarriage, but she would have understood the pain of an empty womb. She and Josh had Stephen, their adopted son, but they’d been married a year and Adie hadn’t conceived. Mary wished she could share her story. Instead she focused on the obvious. “J.T. hurt me terribly, but I should have known better than to fall in love with him.”

  Caroline squeezed her hand. “We can’t choose whom we love.”

  “No,” Mary agreed. “But I should have been careful. I should never have…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It might help,” Adie prodded.

  The more Mary talked, the more her friends would want to know. But if she said nothing, they’d wonder. “He’s a gunfighter,” she finally said. “And he gambles, or he used to.”

  Caroline sat back in the swing, causing it to rock. “He came looking for you. You must matter to him.”

  “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough.”

  Adie watched her. “You said he’s staying.”

  “He is, but only to help Augustus.” She grimaced. “He had the nerve to tell my brother to change his name to Gus.”

  “It’s about time!” Adie declared.

  Caroline laughed softly. “Didn’t you say you were praying for a man to help your brother grow up?”

  “Yes, but—”

  Adie chuckled. It wasn’t rude, just annoying. “I don’t know why God does what He does, but I’d say He answered your prayer in a very interesting way.”

  “Me, too.” Caroline smiled.

  Interesting wasn’t what Mary wanted her life to be. Dull and ordinary suited her fine. So did running the café and forgetting the past. She had no desire to dance on the edge of the truth, but that’s what she’d be doing until J.T. left Denver.

  As he neared the stream where he planned to take Gus, J.T. slowed his horse to a walk. Fancy Girl came up to him running and barking at the same time. He knew how the dog felt. Mary had forgiven him, and he wanted to shout to the world.

  High and bright, clouds skittered past the sun in a way that sent shadows running from him. Raising his eyes to the sky, he wondered what a good woman like Mary saw in a mongrel like himself. Forgiving him had cost her something. She didn’t want him in Denver, yet she’d honored his request. She’d always been generous to him, but today she’d been merciful.

  How could she be so kind when he’d hurt her so badly? J.T. thought of his brothers beating him in that New York alley. A few years ago he’d lear
ned that all three of them had died from cholera. Old feelings had come back, and he’d cheerfully spat on their graves. He’d wounded Mary as surely as his brothers had hurt him, yet she’d forgiven him. He had to admire her kindness.

  He looked down at his dog, panting and happy from the run. “You look thirsty, girl. Let’s find water.”

  He nudged the buckskin onto the stream where he’d camped a couple of nights ago. He’d eaten his fill of trout and so had Fancy Girl. The spot was perfect for what he had in mind for Gus.

  The way J.T. saw things, the boy needed confidence more than he needed to know how to fight. If Gus didn’t know how to handle a gun, they’d do some target practice. He’d teach the boy how to throw a punch, but mostly he wanted Gus to carry himself with pride. Bullies were like wolves. They cut the weakest animal from the pack and took it down. If Gus stopped being a weakling, the bullies would find other prey.

  As J.T. approached the stream, Fancy trotted on ahead of him. He followed more slowly, checking out the terrain for signs of drifters and men like himself. Near an old fire pit he saw a pile of cigarette butts. He didn’t want Gus to consider tobacco a good habit, so he climbed down from his horse and ground them into the dirt. Looking around, he saw broken branches where horses had been tied. He checked out the hoofprints and decided the spot had been used by a lone man with two horses, someone much like himself. J.T. worried all the time about old enemies, but the rider had moved on. The spot would be fine for camping with Gus.

  “Come on, Fancy,” he called to his dog.

  When she barked, he rested his hand on his gun. When she barked a second time, he worried she’d gotten stuck in the willows lining the stream. Approaching cautiously, he saw her in the middle of the water, looking down with her ears pricked and her tail wagging. When she pawed at something, a trout escaped her grasp with a small leap. J.T. laughed out loud. How many dogs knew how to fish? He called her again and she came bounding to him, her chest wet and her eyes full of triumph. He dropped down to his knees and hugged her hard. He hoped that someday Mary would come as willingly into his arms.