The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

  “And if you say no?”

  “He’ll hurt her.” J.T.’s blood turned to ice. Maybe he hadn’t lost his edge after all.

  Josh’s expression hardened. “What kind of man threatens a seventeen-year-old girl?”

  “An evil one.”

  “Gertie needs to come home tonight.”

  “If she will.” J.T. had seen her stubborn side. “When we finish here, I’ll take Mary to find her.”

  Josh eyed him thoughtfully. “Then what?”

  A smile played on J.T.’s lips. “We let Lassen take care of Roy.”

  Josh clapped him on the back. “You know that stick of dynamite I mentioned?”

  “Sure.”

  “Get ready, because it’s burning fast. Have you told Mary any of this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s up to her to convince Gertie to come home. While we’re waiting for Lassen to strike, we’ll both keep an eye on Roy.”

  Tomorrow J.T. would be working on the bell tower. It rose even higher than the Newcastle and gave him a perfect view of the surrounding streets. He’d see Roy coming and going. He’d also be able to spot Griff Lassen if he approached Roy. “I’ll be watching.”

  “So will the Lord,” Josh added.

  J.T. believed God had saved his dog’s life, but he had a hard time imagining Him anywhere except in the clouds. In general he preferred to work alone, and that’s what he intended to do.

  “We better get inside,” Josh said. “Mary needs to have that talk with Gertie.”

  And J.T. needed to speak with her. She’d kissed him like she meant it, then she’d backed away for the second time. Before the night ended, he intended to find out why.

  Chapter Eighteen

  With the men outside, the women were sitting at the kitchen table. Adie and Bessie were chatting about the puppies and Gus, but Mary barely heard them. Her thoughts were on J.T. How could a woman’s dreams come true and die in a single moment? When he’d prayed, she’d felt the sincerity and wept. Fancy had lived and Mary had been ready to tell him about the baby they’d lost…and then he’d spoken glibly about dogs being dogs. If she told J.T. about the baby and he mocked her, her fragile trust would be shattered. Yet if she didn’t tell him, the trust would be incomplete.

  She needed time to build her courage, but she had another problem. J.T. hadn’t told her about the meeting with Roy, and this morning’s confrontation with Gertie had filled her with guilt. Would her sister come home if she knew about Abilene? Confessing to Gertie could ruin the good life she’d made for herself and her siblings, but not confessing was risking Gertie’s future.

  Adie touched her arm. “You’re a million miles away. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Gertie.”

  “Has there been any word from her?” Bessie asked.

  Mary told them about this morning’s visit. “I’m scared to death for her. I’m thinking about telling her more about why I left Abilene.” Adie already knew about the miscarriage. Bessie didn’t, so Mary told her about her affair with J.T., the miscarriage and how she’d killed Sam O’Day when he’d forced himself on her, calling her a loose woman and worse. “I lost my reputation, and I’m terrified of going down that road again, especially with Gus and Gertie. People would treat them badly because of me.”

  Bessie’s silvery eyes took on a shine. “With Gertie in danger, it’s a chance you have to take.”

  But the cost… She could lose customers and go out of business. How would she support her brother and sister? She’d be called ugly names, and Gus would hear them. The thought disgusted her, but she’d gladly sacrifice her good name to save Gertie. Even if her sister failed to understand, Mary loved the girl too much to do nothing.

  “You’re right.” She didn’t want to wait another minute. “I’ll talk to Gertie first thing in the morning.”

  The women commiserated until the men came inside. Josh escorted Adie and Bessie to the carriage, leaving J.T. and Mary alone. They both sat on the divan, but not too close. His declaration of love was dangling between them, but she ignored it. “Tell me what happened with Roy.”

  He looked annoyed. “I’d rather talk about us.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I’m not ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “For anything.” Or everything. She pleaded with her eyes. “Can we please talk about Gertie?”

  He gave her a long look and then took pity on her. “Sure,” he said, reaching for her hand. “The meeting with Roy had some surprises.”

  He told her about Griff Lassen, Roy’s offer and the man’s threats to Gertie. Mary wanted her sister home tonight, not tomorrow. If it meant pounding on Katrina’s door, she’d do it. If Gertie refused to listen, she’d ask J.T. to make good on his promise to carry her home like a sack of flour. She stood and snatched her shawl from a hook by the door. “Let’s go.”

  J.T. stood more slowly. “It’s late. Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “If people see us, they’ll talk.”

  Bless him, he was thinking about her reputation. “It won’t matter after I speak to Gertie. I’m going to tell her everything about Abilene. If I do, maybe she’ll believe me about Roy.” And after she spoke to Gertie, she’d tell J.T. about the baby.

  He looked worried. “I’ll tell Gus we’re leaving for a while.”

  He strode down the hall and opened the door to her brother’s room. When he spoke in a hush, the comfort of it rocked Mary to the core. This could be her life—a home with J.T. and her siblings and Fancy Girl. Everything depended on his reaction to her revelation. If Gertie’s situation hadn’t turned dire, she’d have told him now. Instead, she followed him out the door, setting a fast pace as they walked to the women’s hotel where Katrina lived.

  “I hope we can get in.” She doubted a clerk worked this late.

  “I’ll break down the door if I have to.”

  Mary felt the same urgency, but embarrassing Gertie would make the situation worse. She needed to convince her sister, quietly but with a full accounting, to come home right now. The hotel loomed in the distance. A three-story building made of brick and mortar, it had the look of a fortress. When a carriage halted in front of the hotel, J.T. tugged her into the shadows. “We’ll wait here.”

  Tucked behind him, she watched a driver climb down from the seat and open the door. A man emerged. As he turned to offer his hand to a fellow passenger, she recognized Roy. Next she saw the hem of a shimmering gold gown, then the elegant reach of a woman’s arm. Katrina emerged and glided to the boardwalk.

  Roy turned back to the carriage and again offered his hand. Gertie followed in Katrina’s steps, except she wobbled instead of moving gracefully, and instead of wearing the pink dress befitting her age, she was draped in a purple evening gown with a low-cut diamond neckline. Giggling, she lost her balance and swayed against Roy. As he steadied her, the three of them laughed far more than the situation justified.

  “She’s drunk,” J.T. observed.

  Furious, Mary fought the urge to run to her sister. Instead, she watched Roy position himself between the two females. With his elbows bent, he escorted them to the hotel entrance. He said something that made Katrina smile, then he turned to Gertie. Mary couldn’t see her sister’s face, but she recognized the lift of her chin. The foolish girl was inviting a kiss. When Roy obliged, Mary tried to push past J.T.

  He caught her by the waist. “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “Be patient,” he advised. “Roy’s leaving.”

  The girls stayed on the porch, waving as if Roy were a departing king. As soon as the carriage took off, J.T. stepped out of the shadows and she followed. When they were within earshot of the girls, he called out in a full voice. “Good evening, ladies. It looks like you’ve been to the theater.”

  Katrina, having never seen him before, wisely didn’t reply. She put an arm around Gertie and turned the doorknob.

  “Katrina, wait,” Mary ca
lled. “It’s me.”

  Off balance and wobbly, Gertie struggled to focus her eyes. “Mary?” She slurred the word to mush.

  “Yes, sweetie. It’s me.” She felt no anger toward Gertie, only pity. The girl had never touched alcohol in her life. Judging by the fruity smell, Roy had given her heavy red wine. Naive and determined to hide it, Gertie had consumed far too much.

  Mary approached with J.T. behind her. Katrina glared at him. “Who are you?”

  “A friend of Miss Larue’s,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse us, we’d like a word with her sister.”

  “It’s late.” Katrina looked a bit unsteady herself. “Come back tomorrow.”

  “That’s not acceptable,” Mary countered.

  J.T. broke in. “We’ll speak to Mary’s sister now.” He shifted his gaze to Gertie. “Is that all right with you, Miss Larue?”

  “I—I don’t know.” She looked positively green. “I think I’m going to be—” She heaved into the bushes.

  “Sick,” J.T. finished for her.

  Katrina stepped back in disgust. Mary ran to Gertie’s side and held her head as she lost the contents of her stomach. When she finished, Mary wiped her sister’s mouth with her hankie. Groaning, Gertie tumbled into a heap and passed out. They wouldn’t be having that talk about Roy tonight. Mary called to J.T. “Will you carry her home?”

  “Sure.” He climbed up the steps, giving Katrina a sharp look as he passed her, then he dropped to a crouch. Katrina gave Mary a look of her own. “Gertie lives here now. I’ll help her upstairs.”

  “No, you won’t.” J.T. scooped her into his arms, straightened and gave Katrina a look full of pity. “Good night, miss. If you’re smart, you’ll keep away from Mr. Desmond.”

  He turned and strode down the street with Gertie hanging from his arms like a rag doll. Mary gave Katrina a pitying look of her own, picked up Gertie’s reticule and followed him.

  “You can’t do this!” Katrina cried.

  Mary turned on her heels, speaking as she backpedaled away from the younger woman. “Yes, I can do this, Katrina. And I’m doing it. Roy isn’t who you think he is.”

  The girl smirked. “You’re just jealous.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Gertie won’t listen,” she shouted back. “She’s going to be a great actress, and I’m going to design all her costumes. You can’t stop us.”

  “Maybe not,” Mary countered. “But I can try.”

  Facing forward, she lengthened her stride to catch up with J.T. Tomorrow she’d have that talk with Gertie. She needed to have a similar conversation with J.T., but she wouldn’t do it tonight. Her sister would need her full attention.

  J.T. had a lot of sympathy for Gertie. He knew all about the dry heaves and headaches. He’d gone down that road alone, and he’d done it often. Gertie had Mary at her side, and she’d done it just once. He hoped she’d learned a lesson. She was home and safe, so he didn’t have to give Roy an answer about Lassen right away. Stalling to give Lassen a chance to work offered the best shot at protecting the future J.T. wanted with Mary and her siblings.

  While Mary put Gertie to bed, he waited in the front room with Fancy Girl, watching the puppies as they nuzzled and slept. He’d never seen anything so beautiful and so remote from his own experience.

  “J.T.?”

  He turned and saw Mary in the hall entry. Bluish circles fanned beneath her eyes. “You look done in,” he said.

  “I am.”

  He indicated the divan. “Sit with me.” She could rest her head on his shoulder.

  Mary stayed in the hall. “It’s late. You should go.”

  He didn’t like the idea at all. He wanted to know why she hadn’t told him she loved him, and why she’d stopped a perfect kiss, but he wouldn’t make demands. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll head out. We can talk tomorrow.”

  Looking reluctant, she nodded.

  J.T. wanted to kiss her good-night, but she didn’t budge. He settled for patting Fancy Girl. The new mother raised her head and gave him a doggy smile. “You did good,” he murmured.

  Closing her eyes, Fancy lowered her head and slept. J.T. pushed to his feet and headed for the door. Mary finally crossed the room, and he hoped for an explanation, but she stopped two feet away. “Thank you for helping Gertie tonight.”

  He wished she’d appreciated his love as much. “She’s a handful, but she’s still a good kid.”

  Mary didn’t move.

  Neither did he.

  What’s wrong, Mary? Tell me. He pleaded silently until she let out a breath. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “First thing,” he said.

  She smiled, but her mouth looked pinched. “Good night, J.T. Thank you again.”

  After a nod that should have been a kiss, he walked alone to the boardinghouse. When he reached his room, he unbuckled his gun belt and draped it over a chair. Usually he missed the weight of it. Tonight he experienced a lightness he didn’t understand. Without his dog or a living soul to distract him, he sat on the bed and pulled off his boots. Pictures of the day played through his mind—Roy’s threats…kissing Mary…the moment he thought Fancy would die.

  Unable to sleep, he picked up the chapbook and read slowly, taking in the words a few at a time and seeing himself among the thieves and the lost. When his eyelids drooped, he blew out the lamp. Darkness filled the room, but tonight it had no power, and he slept like baby.

  J.T.’s contentment lasted until six o’clock the next morning. After rising from the narrow bed, he washed and put on dungarees in preparation for dishwashing duty. As always, he strapped on his guns. Griff Lassen could come through the door. Roy could go on the attack. Trusting God to heal his dog was one thing. Trusting Him to watch out for Mary and Gertie struck J.T. as crazy.

  He also had to figure out how to earn a living. He’d come to Denver to rescue Mary, not to be tied to her apron strings. Everything seemed wrong as he headed for the café. He’d cut himself shaving, and he missed Fancy Girl trotting at his side. By the time J.T. walked through the back door to the café, he felt more prickly than a cactus. The irritation increased when Mary saw him and didn’t smile.

  “Good morning,” she said formally.

  He grumbled a greeting and went to the cupboard to get an apron. Tying it around the gun belt, he felt like a wolf with feathers. He half filled the wash basin at the pump, lifted a kettle from the back of the stove and poured the boiling water into the cold. Mary was busy cracking eggs in a bowl. Trying to be civil, he spoke over the crunch of the shells. “How’s Gertie?”

  “She’s sleeping.” She tossed a shell in the scrap bucket. “I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

  Gertie could argue with Mary, but she’d have a hard time putting him in his place. “Maybe we should do it together.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said too quickly.

  Feeling useless, he whittled soap into the basin. Enid entered the kitchen with the first load of dirty plates. She didn’t know what to make of J.T., so she ignored him. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t know what to make of himself. The man who sold his gun for hundreds of dollars was scrubbing egg slime. Working on the church had more dignity—he planned to finish the bell tower shingles today—and he could hold his own as a gunsmith, but neither occupation appealed to him.

  “H-h-hi”

  He looked over his shoulder and saw Gus. “Hey, kid.”

  The boy fetched a towel from a shelf and started drying the clean plates. As they worked, he told J.T. about Fancy and the puppies. They were doing well, and Fancy had consumed two bowls of water and eaten ham for breakfast. For the next hour they joked about names for the puppies, finally agreeing on Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe and Isabel, just because Gus liked the name and thought that was the puppy he’d keep.

  Mary interrupted. “Gus? Would you empty the garbage pail?”

  “Sure.”

  It was Gus’s regular chore, but there were still dishes to put away. The boy knew better than J.T
. where they went, so J.T. indicated the plates. “Finish up here. I’ll handle the garbage.”

  Gus grinned. “Lucky you! It stinks.”

  J.T. lifted the pail with one hand and opened the door with the other.

  Whomp!

  Something hard bounced off his chest. He set down the bucket and stared down the alley. This time he saw the rock coming. Only it wasn’t aimed at him. The kid who’d thrown it—one of the boys who’d attacked Gus—had targeted Mary’s window. The rock missed the glass but hit the siding.

  Gus raced through the door, saw the boys and stopped in his tracks. “Th-that’s them!”

  A second boy threw a rock at Gus. Gus ducked, but the rock ricocheted off the wall and hit J.T. in the neck.

  No one messed with J.T. or the people he loved. He’d sunk to washing dishes, but he could still scare the daylights out of a group of punk kids. That’s what he intended to do. Gus was shouting and scrambling to find a rock to throw back. J.T. knew how he felt, but then he recalled Josh’s advice to turn the other cheek. J.T.’s insides were boiling, but he saw a chance to turn a page in his life.

  “Let’s try a different strategy,” he said to Gus.

  “Wh-wh-what?”

  “We’re going give these boys breakfast.”

  “B-b-breakfast?”

  “I know. It’s peculiar.” The old J.T. would have already put the rock throwers in their place.

  Gus finally nodded, so J.T. called out to them. “Hey, are you guys hungry? The meal’s on me.”

  Gus looked wary, but J.T. had the upper hand. The boys would either run away or they’d stay because they were hungry and surprised by the offer. He saw them gather across the alley behind a wood pile. “We’ve confused them,” he said to Gus.

  “G-g-good.”

  One of the boys who’d held Gus against the wall showed himself. “Do you mean it about breakfast?”

  “Sure.”

  A second one came out from behind the stack of wood. He murmured to his friend. He couldn’t look J.T. in the eye, but they both came forward.