The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

The minister was toying with him. Fine. If Josh wanted to argue, J.T. would give him an earful at Swan’s Nest.

  As the man stepped aside, J.T. muttered, “See you later,” and headed for the door. Gus, imitating him, repeated his words and they left, walking in silence until they got to the livery. The old man running the place saddled J.T.’s horse, brought it out and accepted a tip. J.T. swung into the saddle and pulled Gus up behind him. He could feel the buckskin prancing as they passed the alley where Gus had been attacked.

  The boy tensed. “L-l-ook!”

  Turning, J.T. saw the three boys who’d beaten Gus, no doubt lying in wait for him. He reined the buckskin to a halt. “What do you want to do, kid?”

  “I w-w-want them d-d-dead!”

  J.T. knew the feeling. He also wanted Gus to become a far better man than himself. He thought of Josh’s sermon about cheek-turning and his mention of a time to fight. How did a man put the pieces together? J.T. didn’t know, but he knew one thing with certainty. He didn’t want Gus to be like him. Before he influenced the boy for the worse, he needed to puzzle out what he’d heard today.

  He spoke more to himself than Gus. “Maybe later, kid.”

  “Yeah, later.”

  As they rode past the alley, J.T. felt none of the rage that should have spurred him on. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into? Not only had he given up liquor and cards, he’d lost some of his meanness. A month ago he’d have bullied the bullies with pleasure. Today the rage was a mountain in the distance, no less real than the dirt below his feet but somehow less personal. The thought made him ornery. By the time they arrived at Swan’s Nest, he wanted to fight someone. Gus slid off the buckskin first, followed by J.T., who tied his horse to a fence. His gaze skipped the front porch and went to a garden where he heard conversation.

  Gus scampered down a narrow path. “Th-this way.”

  J.T. followed him past a vegetable garden, then to a cut in a hedge of blooming rosebushes. The sweet fragrance filled his nose, but he refused to enjoy it. Gus indicated the house. “I—I have to h-help carry food.”

  “Go on ahead,” J.T. replied.

  With Fancy Girl at his side, he looked around the garden. Tables and chairs had been set up, but what caught his eye was a white marble bench. It reminded him of the gravestones he’d seen in a New York cemetery, not the paupers’ field where his mother had been laid to rest but the church cemetery two blocks away. Covered in lush grass, it had been surrounded by a black iron fence two feet taller than he’d been. Behind it he’d seen markers the color of the bench in this garden. When he’d asked why his mama couldn’t have a nicer resting place, the minister who’d buried her told him there were different places for rich people.

  That day J.T. decided that the Almighty didn’t deserve respect. If his mother wasn’t welcome in that sacred place, he wanted nothing to do with the God who owned it. He still felt that way. Looking at the bench in Josh’s garden, he saw swirls of gold in the white marble. Superior and unwelcoming, the stone gleamed in the heat of the day.

  Feeling smug, he walked to the bench and sat on it. As Fancy laid at his feet, the heat of the stone went through his trousers. It was a bit too hot, but he stubbornly stayed in place. No one, not God or the sun, was going to tell him where to sit. Hunkering forward, he looked at the people chattering to each other. Josh had spotted him and was coming at him with a glass of lemonade.

  The preacher bit off a grin. “Comfortable?”

  “More or less.”

  “That bench gets a tad hot this time of day.” He held out the dripping glass. “Have some.”

  The lemonade looked delicious, but J.T. hesitated. He didn’t want to talk to Josh, not with his backside on fire. He wished he hadn’t sat down. He wished other things, too—that Josh hadn’t talked about turning the other cheek, and that his mother had been buried in a cemetery with an uncomfortable bench. He hadn’t been expecting such thoughts. They’d come from nowhere, but he couldn’t shake the old anger, or the picture of that droopy-eyed minister telling him the nice cemetery was for rich folks.

  He was thirsty, so he accepted the glass with a snide look. “Hoop-di-doo. Christian charity.” He raised the lemonade in a mock toast. “Thanks, preacher-man.”

  Josh had the nerve to look pleased. “The sermon got to you, didn’t it?”

  He could say no and hide behind the lie, or he could admit that the sermon had upset him. Neither choice appealed to him.

  Josh stepped slightly to the side, casting a shadow across J.T.’s face. Memories spun through his mind, joining with fragments of the past week to create a disjointed picture of his entire life. He thought of the good times with Mary and then about the men he’d killed. He thought of Gus, then about Fancy Girl and playing fetch with a stick, and how he used to wonder if she’d really come back. When he thought of his mother’s last breath, and then his brothers holding him down and the knife cutting his flesh, his thoughts turned black.

  He shoved to his feet. With his hands dangling as if ready to draw, he squared off with Josh. “Tell me, preacher-man. Why all this?” He waved his arm as if swat ting away his life. “Why can’t Gus talk? Why do mothers get sick and die, and why do brothers hurt each other?”

  Sadness filled the minister’s eyes, but they were still blue like the sky. J.T. didn’t usually notice such things, but he felt as if the sky were falling down around him.

  Josh spoke in a hush. “You’ve seen a lot of life.”

  “You bet I have,” he said, dragging out the words. “I’ve seen way too much to believe in turning the other cheek.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you don’t.” He was close to shouting. He never shouted, but he couldn’t stop his voice from rising. “Tell me, preacher-man. Have you been pinned like a bug on your back? Maybe shot or cut with a knife?”

  “No knives,” Josh acknowledged. “But I’ve been shot and beat up.”

  The answer caught J.T. off guard. He thought of Gus wanting to kill the boys who’d hurt him. For Gus’s sake, he’d give the preacher a chance. “What did you do?”

  “I protected Adie.” He stared hard at J.T. “I’ll choose talking over fighting every time I have a choice. But if a woman’s being hurt, or a child, I’m going to protect that person any way I can. If it means inflicting a bit of pain, I’ll do it. If it means dying to save them, I’m willing.”

  J.T. felt the same way about Mary.

  The minister’s eyes turned to blue fire. “It’s a choice a man makes on the fly. I’ve made it. You have, too. Don’t think God doesn’t understand. He knows more about justice and suffering than you or I ever will.”

  J.T. didn’t know what to make of Josh’s little speech, especially the mention of justice. J.T. survived by selling his gun. That didn’t strike him as especially wrong, but his feelings about it did. He’d enjoyed every battle, every bullet that had drawn blood.

  The minister removed a chapbook from his coat pocket and handed it to him. “Here.”

  J.T. took it and looked at the cover. He saw a picture of a lamb and a title he didn’t recognize. “What is it?”

  “The Gospel of John. It’s a piece of the Bible.”

  J.T. didn’t want it, but he was tired of arguing. Scowling, he tucked it inside his vest next to the Deringer he kept hidden.

  A little girl called in their direction. “Pastor Josh! Miss Adie wants you.”

  “I better get moving.” The minister shook his head as if he were henpecked, but J.T. saw through him. Josh loved being needed by his wife. J.T. wanted Mary to need him the same way. He expected her any minute, so he kept his eye on the path from the street. Fancy Girl lay at his feet asleep in the shade of the bench. She’d been napping a lot lately, and he was beginning to think they were both getting soft.

  Brick walked over and asked how the roof was coming along. J.T. didn’t mind chatting with the man, and it helped to pass the time. When the barkeep moved on, Caroline brought him another glass of lemonade a
nd asked if he’d be staying for the fiddle music. J.T. accepted the tea to be polite, but he had no desire to stick around for the music. He wanted to speak to Mary and leave.

  Another five minutes passed. Adie and Caroline were bringing food out to the tables, trading whispers and glancing at him until Adie finally walked up to him. They hadn’t been officially introduced, so she offered her hand. “I’m Adie Blue, Josh’s wife.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m J. T. Quinn, Mary’s friend.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No, but I’m expecting her.”

  “Me, too.” Adie glanced around the garden. “It’s not like her to be late. Would you mind checking the café?”

  “I’ll go right now.” He’d had the same thought. “Will you tell Gus?”

  “Sure.”

  He wasn’t coming back, so he woke up Fancy. “Come on, girl.”

  She jolted awake and followed him to his horse. Eager to be gone, he rode at a gallop until he neared the train depot. Wagons and carriages slowed him down, but his thoughts were running at full speed. Something had kept Mary away from Swan’s Nest. It probably involved Gertie, which meant the trouble harkened back to Roy.

  J.T. turned on the street where the café sat like a buttercup in row of weeds. Leaping off his horse, he saw that the café windows were dark, so he took the stairs to the apartment two at a time. At the top, he heard Mary weeping. He didn’t bother to knock or call her name. He walked straight into the apartment, where he saw her huddled on the divan. Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms and did what he should have done in Abilene. He held her like he’d never let her go. “Tell me what you need,” he crooned. “Whatever it is, I’ll find a way.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  She needed a handkerchief, but she doubted J.T. had one. She tried to lift her head to say so, but he held her close, smoothing her hair with the touch she’d enjoyed in Abilene. How could a man capable of such violence be so tender? Through her tears, she saw Fancy Girl drop down in a beam of sunlight and stretch, a reminder that J.T. had changed from the hard man who’d left her.

  As her tears dampened his shirt, she smelled bay rum and cotton made warm from his skin. When he’d held her in Abilene, she’d inhaled deeply and enjoyed the scent of him. Today it sobered her and she pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She couldn’t let him hold her like this. She trusted him with Gus, but her feelings were another matter. If she lost her heart to him, she’d have more heartache than she did right now, which was plenty in light of Gertie’s letter. The two-page missive was on the table.

  J.T. reached inside his vest and pulled out a bandanna. “Here you go, honey.”

  She took it and dabbed at her eyes, the endearment echoing in her mind. “You shouldn’t call me that.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “It just slipped out.”

  She couldn’t hold it against him, not when she’d enjoyed hearing it. Deep down, she wanted to hear the sweet name again. It was a foolish notion considering the past, but she couldn’t deny the pleasure of being in his arms. They fit well together. They always had.

  As he gauged her reaction, she felt the dampness of her tears. Gertie’s letter had filled her with guilt, and every regret had come out in a flood. She wished she’d never been with J.T.… She wished she’d told Gertie everything he’d revealed about Roy. But the cost…Gertie would demand to know why Mary believed him, and she’d have to tell her sister everything. She’d have done it in an instant to protect Gertie, but the shame had silenced her. So did the fear that she’d lose Gertie’s respect and what little influence she had. She also had to worry about Gus. If Mary told Gertie the truth and Gertie shared the secret with Katrina or anyone else, the gossip would burn like wildfire. Mary’s good name would be ruined in Denver, and Gus would be the brother of a scarlet woman.

  J.T. studied her as if she’d been injured. “You don’t cry easily. What happened?”

  “It’s Gertie.” She handed him the letter.

  He took it and shifted forward, holding the pages with both hands. As he read, she recalled walking into her apartment. She’d felt the stillness, gone to the bedroom and flung open the wardrobe. Her own dresses had been untouched, but Gertie’s side had been empty. Mary had found the letter on her pillow and read it. Seated next to J.T., she skimmed it again.

  Mary,

  Forgive me, dear sister. After all you’ve done for me, a letter is a cowardly way to tell you what I’ve decided. I should tell you to your face, I know, but I can’t bear to see the disappointment in your eyes. Neither do I want you working your fingers to the bone so I can go to New York, especially when it’s not necessary.

  Something wonderful happened. I auditioned for the role of Arline and I got it. Roy says I sound just like you. That’s high praise indeed. He made it clear you were his first choice, that I’d be your understudy if you changed your mind, but he has high hopes for me. He knows so much about the theater. I’m sure I can learn from him as surely as I could have learned in New York.

  I love you, Mary. But I have to take this opportunity. Katrina has invited me to live with her. I hope you and I can be friends.

  Your sister,

  Gertie

  P.S. I’d be honored if you’d come to opening night.

  Mary finished reading and looked away. J.T. set the letter on the table. “Roy’s using her to get to you.”

  A shiver rippled down her spine. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. Maybe I should take the role.” The scandal was likely to find her, but she could keep an eye on Gertie.

  “Don’t do it,” J.T. said, bossing her.

  She didn’t like his tone. “You don’t have the right to give me orders.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m going to anyway.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “It’s smart. If you give Roy what he wants, he’ll want more. Don’t think for a minute he’ll leave Gertie alone. He’ll use her to manipulate you. Mark my words.”

  He’d spoken like the cold, calculating man who hired out his gun for money. “I don’t want to be around Roy, but I have to find a way to protect Gertie.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “You can’t.” Gertie would ask questions. “I don’t want her to know about us. She’ll tell Katrina everything.” And Katrina would tell her customers.

  “That’s a fact.” He looked into Mary’s eyes. “I failed you in Abilene. I won’t do it again. We’ll deal with this together.”

  She felt protected, but J.T.’s presence would throw kerosene on even a hint of the old rumors. Neither could she risk J.T. learning about the baby and the miscarriage. “I appreciate the thought, but I know Gertie better than you do.”

  “And I know Roy,” he countered. “I won’t leave you, Mary. Not with your sister acting crazy. Roy’s going to use her as bait. I’m sorry to disappoint Gus, but we won’t be going on that camping trip. I need to stay in town.”

  “That’s not necessary.” She hated to let her brother down, but mostly she wanted J.T. to be out of the way in case she changed her mind about confiding in Gertie. “Gus is excited.”

  “He’ll understand.”

  “Yes, but it’s not fair.” How did she balance Gus’s needs with Gertie’s? And what about J.T.? She suspected the camping trip meant as much to him as it did to her brother.

  Mary faced him. “Do you think Gertie’s in danger right now?”

  “Not yet.” He sounded businesslike. “As long as she’s useful, he won’t harm her.”

  “That’s not much of a comfort, but I want you to go with Gus.”

  He thought for a minute. “All right, I’ll take him. I don’t like Gertie being around Roy, but she might grow up a little. Maybe she’ll decide going to New York is best.”

  “That would be wonderful, but I don’t have enough money to send her yet.”

  “How much do you need?”

  “Fifteen hundred dollars.” The amount woul
d cover train fare, several months of living expenses, fashionable clothing for Gertie and something for Maude. Mary had some money saved, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  J.T. lifted her hand in his and squeezed. “I’ve got five hundred dollars. It’s not enough, but it’s yours.”

  The gesture touched her to the core. “I can’t take your money.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

  Suddenly tense, he loosened his grip on her hand, paced to the window and stood with his back to her and his arms crossed as he looked out the glass. When he turned around, his eyes were like blue stones. “So my money’s not good enough for you. It’s tainted, and so am I. Is that it?”

  “Tainted?”

  “Yeah.” He smirked. “We both know how I earned it.”

  Mary finally understood. By rejecting J.T.’s money, in his mind she was rejecting him. “That’s not it.” She stood and went to his side. “If I worried about how my customers earned a living, I’d have to quiz each one at the door. If you feel bad about the gambling, give the money to charity.”

  “I do feel bad,” he said quietly. “I want to give it to you.”

  Her heart stretched with each beat, making room for this man who failed her but wanted to make things right. She couldn’t change the past, but she could respect his effort to be a good man. “Do you mean it?”

  “I do.”

  “In that case,” she said. “I accept.”

  He took her hand again and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll find a way to get Gertie to New York before Roy does any real damage. I just need some time.”

  She knew how J.T. made a living. Worry wrinkled her brow. “Time for what?”

  “To earn the rest of that fifteen hundred dollars.”

  She held his hand tight. “Promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t go gambling for any more of it. That’s money I won’t take.”