The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

  When they stepped beneath the solid portion of the roof—the portion J.T. had hammered into place—he pulled back a chair. “Have a seat.”

  She dropped down on the chair, watching as he struck a match and lit the lantern. With the light casting his shadow against the wall, he pulled the second chair out from the table and sat facing her. “You’re not going to like what I have to say about Roy, but you’ve got to believe me.”

  “I said I’d listen.” She indicated the empty church. “Here we are.”

  He sat straight with his hands on his knees, his spine rigid and his eyes as hard as gunmetal. “You know I saw Roy talking to Gertie. She’s too young to read a man’s signs, but I know what he was up to.”

  Mary sighed. “I don’t think—”

  He dug his fingers into his knees. “I’m telling you, Mary, Roy ogled Gertie like a wolf stalking a lamb. If you let her take that role, Roy will pressure you both in all the wrong ways.”

  Roy had always been polite to her. She knew him. “That’s a bit extreme.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I know you mean well.” She spoke quietly to calm him. “But why should I believe you? Roy’s a customer—a good one. He’s been a friend.” She didn’t mention that he knew about the miscarriage and the murder trial and that he hadn’t shared the information with anyone in Denver.

  J.T. looked her in the eye. “I know what I saw. I also know what I heard.”

  “What?”

  “Do you mind if I speak plainly?”

  J.T. never asked permission for anything. The respect startled her. “Go ahead.”

  “After I left you on Sunday I ran into Roy.” He told her about going inside the theater and how Roy had asked him to influence her to take the role of Arline. She didn’t like Roy’s attempt to manipulate her, but she could understand his need to pay off his investors. Unlike J.T., she believed Roy to be a real businessman.

  She interrupted him. “I haven’t heard anything that makes me worry. He manages a theater. He wanted me to sing—”

  “He wants more than that.” The words came out in a growl. “He said he wants you, and he didn’t mean just for the stage.”

  She’d stopped trusting J.T. two years ago. She saw no reason to start now, especially with such an unseemly observation. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You’ve got to.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because he told me straight out.” He took both her hands in his and held them like he’d never let go. “He looked me in the eye and said, ‘If you’re done with her, I’ll take her for myself.’”

  Sam O’Day had made a similar remark when he’d trapped her in the alley. In the days before she’d left Abilene, even men she knew to be honorable had given her disturbing looks. Roy knew the gossip about her, what she’d done. She wanted to deny J.T.’s claim, but she couldn’t. How well did she really know Roy? Not as well as she knew J.T. He was suspicious by nature, smelling smoke where there wasn’t fire, but he was also a shrewd judge of character. Shaking inside, she pulled out of his grasp and paced to the side of the church closest to the theater. Looking up at the dark windows, she prayed. Help me, Lord. Should I trust J.T. or not?

  Her heart cried no.

  Her common sense said otherwise. He had no reason to lie to her, and deep down she’d been troubled by Roy’s attention to Gertie. If there was even a remote chance Roy would use Gertie for improper purposes, Mary couldn’t allow it. But the cost… She stared up at the dark theater. If she went back on her word to Gertie, her sister would demand to know why. Just as threatening, Roy could destroy her good name with a single rumor. What would Gus do when other boys called his sister ugly names? A lump pressed into her throat.

  “Mary?”

  J.T.’s voice came over her shoulder. He was standing behind her, close enough that she could again smell the bay rum that had tickled her nose all evening. She needed to tell him what she’d decided, even thank him for protecting her, but she didn’t trust her voice.

  Stepping closer, he put his hand on her arm. “There’s more.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Roy killed a saloon girl in Dodge.” His fingers tightened. “If he gets near you or Gertie, I’ll—”

  “Stop!” She couldn’t stand another word. “I’ll tell Gertie no. I’ll never speak to Roy again.”

  How many times did she have to pay for what she’d done in Abilene? And why did Gertie have to suffer with her? She pressed her hands against her cheeks to hold back a flood of tears, but a sob broke from her throat.

  J.T. clasped her elbow. Turning her slowly, he drew her fully into his arms until she nestled her head in the familiar crook of his neck. Her lips were an inch from tender skin she’d once kissed. She could hear the whisper of his breath, his baritone as he crooned to her. She wanted to hate this man for hurting her, but he knew her in ways no one else did. She’d shared her dreams with him, the shame of growing up poor. He knew how much her career had meant to her. What he hadn’t understood was that he’d meant more to her than anything.

  He bent his neck so that his cheek brushed the top of her head. “It’s just not right,” he murmured. “I wish…I wish all sorts of things.”

  For two years she’d lived silently with her shame. To night the tears refused to stop. J.T. was smoothing her hair and murmuring about wishes and regrets. When his lips brushed her temple, she felt the tenderness to her toes. She hadn’t been held in a very long time. She felt protected, and that made her cry all the more.

  “It’ll be all right,” he murmured. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  The next thing she knew, his mouth was an inch from hers. She expected him to kiss her, but instead he shifted his lips to the shell of her ear. “I’ve missed you, Mary…so much.”

  “J.T. I—”

  “When I’m with you, I can believe there’s good in the world, maybe even some good in me.”

  Stroking her hair, he tilted his head to match the angle of hers. She knew the look in his eyes, knew the purpose of it and what he wanted. It wasn’t just a kiss. He wanted things she had no power to give. He wanted peace. He wanted hope. Only God could meet those needs. She had to stop him from kissing her, but she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t move her limbs.

  In Abilene he’d have taken the kiss without asking. Tonight he stopped an inch from her mouth, waiting for her to signal her willingness. Regardless of her feelings. She had to be wise for them both.

  Cupping his jaw, she whispered, “No, J.T. Not again.”

  Releasing her abruptly, he turned and walked into the shadows. In the dark, he put his hands on his hips, raised his face to the half-finished roof and muttered something not meant for her ears.

  With J.T., defeat always turned to anger. She braced herself for it now.

  Standing in the dark, beyond the glare of the lamp and Mary’s reach, J.T. figured he had a choice. He could let her push him away, or he could fight to win her back. He knew she cared about him. She’d been gentle when she’d cupped his jaw, and even more tender when she’d held him back. She wanted to kiss him, and she didn’t kiss a man casually, so what stood between them? Who did he need to fight?

  A year ago he’d have waged the battle with Mary. He’d have tempted her until she gave in. Tonight that scheme struck him as wrong, even evil. It was the kind of thing Roy would do. J.T. didn’t see the theater manager as a rival. An enemy, yes. But Roy wasn’t standing between them in this half-finished church. What stood between them, he realized, was the past. Who stood between them was her God. The faith she’d once had in J.T., she now had in someone he couldn’t see. A dry laugh scraped his throat. He’d fought a lot of hard men in his time, but he’d never taken on someone invisible.

  How did he do battle with this kind of enemy? J.T. didn’t know, but for Mary he was willing to find out. With his jaw tight, he glared at the sky above the unfinished roof and muttered in his head. If You’re hidin
g up there, show Yourself!

  Nothing happened.

  Lightning didn’t flash.

  No one dropped dead.

  But deep in his chest, J.T. felt a pounding he couldn’t explain. He’d called out enemies before. Not once had he felt the trembling that plagued him now. He wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t be, because fear killed men like himself. If a shootist hesitated, he died. Mentally J.T. pulled the quiver into a tautness of mind. To win Mary, he had to learn a whole new game. If he tempted her with kisses, she’d dig in her heels. If he treated her right, she just might trust him again.

  He liked the idea, but it came at a cost. Considering her beliefs, treating her right meant marrying her, and marriage meant giving her children. J.T. liked Gus, but squalling babies were another matter. He’d never pictured himself as a father, and he still didn’t. When it came to marriage, he had nothing to offer. Mary had been wise to remember his failings before he’d kissed her the way he wanted.

  Like the scoundrel he’d been in Abilene, he leaned against a post, crossed his arms and faced her. “Was that, ‘No, I’ll never kiss you again,’ or ‘No, but I’ll think about it’?”

  Instead of getting riled, she looked at him as if he were Gus’s age and acting tough. “It wasn’t either.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “It was, ‘No, but I wish I could.’”

  “Oh, yeah?” He’d wanted to sound wicked, but his voice came out hopeful. Embarrassed, he turned his head to the doorway, an opening that provided a way in and a way out. He had that choice now with Mary. He could play tough, or he could talk to her like he’d imagined when he was on the roof looking at clouds. When he finally spoke, he was still looking at the door. “I did some thinking today.”

  “About what?”

  “Clouds, mostly.” He finally looked at her. “And us. I know I hurt you, Mary. What would it take to earn back your trust?”

  “You can’t.”

  He didn’t want to believe her. “I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance. I’d like to do something for Gus.”

  She hesitated. “Like what?”

  “A camping trip. We wouldn’t be gone long, just four or five days.”

  She didn’t say no right away, but neither did she look eager. “Where would you go?”

  “The stream a mile or so past the Slewfoot Mine. It’s loaded with trout.” If he proved himself with Gus, she would have to admit he’d changed. He still had worries about marriage, but the thought wasn’t as awful as it had been two minutes ago. He had to convince her. “Gus is a good kid. Did you see him working today?”

  “A little bit.”

  J.T. smiled at the memory. “He filled the nail bucket so full he needed two hands to carry it. The boy’s determined to grow up.”

  “I know, but he’s so young.”

  “Not that young.” J.T. had spent his twelfth birthday stealing food for his brothers. He’d spent his thirteenth hiding on a train bound for St. Louis. He hadn’t celebrated since then, though he privately marked each year with amazement that he’d lived so long.

  Mary bit her lip. “If I say yes, will you tell me something?”

  “Sure.”

  She gave him a long look that pinned him in place. Whatever she asked, he’d have to be truthful, and she knew how to get to him. She waved her hand to indicate the church. “Why are you here?”

  “In Denver?”

  “No, here.” She meant the building. “You don’t need the job, and you don’t like to work. You don’t belong—” she bit her lip, then said, “You’ve never been to church in your life.”

  “You were going to say I don’t belong here.”

  She looked at him with sad, guilty eyes, a sign of the chasm between them. Earning her trust would take more than being nice to Gus or warning her about Roy. He needed to understand the woman she’d become.

  She looked pained. “You belong here as much as I do. Anyone who comes through that door is welcome.”

  He smirked. “Not me, apparently.”

  “No,” she said. “You, especially.”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so earnest, but J.T.’s denial had hit a chord. When she’d first come to Swan’s Nest, she’d felt unworthy of singing in church. Josh had set her straight, and she wanted to show others the same goodwill. She didn’t doubt J.T. belonged under this roof. Whether he belonged back in her life was another matter. She’d realized how much he’d changed when he hadn’t kissed her. It seemed that the old J.T. had died. The new one had been conceived six months ago but was yet to be born. She couldn’t trust him fully, but neither could she send him away.

  He needs You, Lord. What do I do? What do I say?

  She didn’t have a perfect command of Scripture, but she had a story of her own and she could tell it. They were facing each other in the circle of light. Blinking, she turned down the wick to hide her churned-up feelings. Instead of putting distance between them, the circle tightened like a lasso drawing them together. She felt the rightness of the moment and it made her bold. “I think I know how you feel.”

  His lips curved into a sneer, but his eyes were bleak. “I doubt it. You’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Yes, I have,” she reminded him. “I shot Sam O’Day.”

  The bleakness drained from J.T.’s eyes, making way for annoyance. She’d bested him, and he didn’t like it. “Sam doesn’t count.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “That’s true,” she acknowledged. “But I still watched him die, and I was the cause.”

  She understood guilt far better than J.T. realized, but not because of Sam O’Day. She’d always wonder if she’d caused the miscarriage by going to the theater instead staying in bed. She considered telling him about the child she’d lost, but she doubted he’d console her. His reaction would likely be relief. She’d never tell J.T. about the baby. It would hurt too much to see his disdain, but he needed to know she understood him. She thought back to shooting Sam and how it had changed her. The baby had changed her more, but remembering Sam served her purpose. “I won’t ever forget that night in the alley. I couldn’t get away from the talk, so I left.”

  He said nothing, but she knew he understood. He’d walked away from the Dudley place as surely as she’d left Kansas.

  “Leaving Abilene was like jumping off a cliff,” she continued. “I didn’t know what would happen. I just knew I couldn’t do what I’d always done.”

  “That’s it,” he murmured “I hit the ground at Swan’s Nest.” She’d been weak and broken, but with time she’d healed. “You jumped off a similar cliff. You’re still falling, and you’re looking for a branch to grab.”

  He looked at her a long time. “When did you get so wise?”

  “I’m not wise at all.” She waved off the compliment. “I’m just someone who jumped off a cliff and found a branch.”

  She hoped J.T. would grab the same one she had. Her faith sometimes faltered, but the branch wouldn’t break. Was he reaching out the way she had? It seemed possible, even likely. They were standing in a half-finished church. He owned a dog, and he’d been generous to Gus. She wanted to encourage him, so she smiled. “I’d be glad for you to take Gus camping.”

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “The best.”

  “I’ll be careful around him,” he said. “He can’t talk right, but someday he’ll be a good man.”

  Mary’s throat tightened. “There’s good in you, too.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I mean it.”

  She recalled the scar she’d seen on his shoulder, a reminder of the time his brother had cut him because he’d refused to steal. He hadn’t had an aversion to stealing, he’d said. He’d been as hungry as they were, but he’d been terrified of getting caught and being separated from them. The confusion of it, the desperation, still put tears in her eyes.

  She blinked them back. “I see the good in
you, J.T., because God loves people, everyone, even you.”

  She ambled to the side of building, leaving him in the light while she stood in the shadows. As she expected, his expression turned wry. “Considering my bad habits, that’s hard to believe.”

  She wished she had Josh’s command of the Scriptures. She wished she was like the apostle Paul with his education, or Peter, who’d been renamed “The Rock.” She supposed she was closest to John in temperament, the apostle who wrote about love. Her good intentions would have to suffice. “This is what I know,” she said simply. “God knows about every mistake I’ve made and every ugly thought I’ve had. He still loves me.”

  J.T. huffed. “It can’t be that simple.”

  “It’s not,” she acknowledged. “I could talk about sin and mercy, but the branch I grabbed was love. He loves you, too. J.T. You’ve done terrible things. You know it, and you want to make things right. That’s the good I see in you.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a fool, Mary. A blessed fool….”

  “No, I’m not.”

  His eyes locked with hers in a dance she recognized from Abilene. He wanted something from her. In Kansas, it had signaled physical desire. Tonight she saw a longing for more than pleasure. He wanted hope. Six months ago he’d started a desperate search. If he looked long enough, he’d find answers…eventually. She couldn’t trust him yet, maybe not ever, but she could pray for him. She crossed back to the table and held out her hand. “Let’s go. If Gus is awake, you can tell him about the camping trip.”

  J.T. took her hand. “I’d like to finish the roof. How about next week?”

  “That would be fine.”

  They walked back to her apartment in companionable silence. If anyone could give Gus confidence it was J.T. She trusted him fully with her brother. Whether she could learn to trust J.T. with her heart, and whether J.T. could learn to trust God, remained to be seen. Until then, she’d keep her feelings and her memories tucked safely away.

  Chapter Eleven