The Outlaw's Return (11 page)

“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 hiding 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.

O
n Sunday morning, J.T. put on his best clothes and went to church. He wanted to think he'd come to see Mary, but he knew otherwise. Since their talk, he'd felt like a stranger in his own skin. This morning when he'd shaved, he'd seen a man he didn't know anymore. He looked younger, almost happy. He was more excited than Gus about the camping trip, and yesterday he'd caught himself humming “Pop Goes the Weasel” while he pounded nails.

Something crazy was happening to him, and he didn't like it. If he lost his edge, he'd be a dead man. Yesterday on the roof, he'd glared at the clouds and muttered a foul word just to prove he could do it. It had sounded hollow, and he'd felt an emptiness that had nearly knocked him to his knees. He'd muttered a second oath.
If You're real, God, I want to know it.

Nothing.

Silence.

He'd felt the weight of his guns and made a decision. If God wouldn't show Himself, J.T. would go hunting for Him. That's why he was sitting in Brick's Saloon on Sunday morning, cleaned up and smelling a little too
good because he'd come to see Mary, too. He'd arrived early to be sure he got a seat near the back. Fancy Girl lay at his feet, the recipient of a special invitation from Josh. He smiled at the memory of the minister telling him God loved all creatures great and small, and that Fancy would be welcome anytime.

Keeping an eye on the back door, he saw all sorts of folks coming to church. He recognized a couple of men from the building, three ladies who'd brought lunch and Bessie from Swan's Nest. The nurse had come in with another woman, a brunette who had to be her sister. Bessie saw him, waved and took a seat near the front.

Josh came out of a back room and strode to the podium. A fiddle player struck up a melody and the room quieted. J.T. hadn't seen Mary since Wednesday, and he wanted to know what had happened with Gertie and Roy. Gus had been coming with Josh to work on the roof, but J.T. hadn't quizzed him. It would have been unfair to the boy.

With no sign of Mary, his nerves prickled. He was about to leave for the café when Gus, squeaky clean but out of breath, pushed through the doors.

J.T. motioned to him. “Hey, partner.”

The boy's face lit up. “C-c-can I sit with you?”

“Sure.” J.T. appreciated the company, another sign he wasn't himself.

As Gus joined him, Gertie sauntered in with her nose in the air. Mary rushed in behind her, looking more harried than he'd ever seen her. Gertie slipped into a seat in the corner opposite from him and put on a pout. Mary walked to the front of the church and whispered something to Josh, probably an apology for arriving late. The minister said something back, maybe asking if she needed time to compose herself. When she shook her
head, Josh nodded to the fiddler. The musician raised his bow high, then brought it down with a slash that began a storm of beautiful music. J.T. sat riveted, both by the melody and by Mary. When the sharp notes trickled to silence, she began to sing.

He didn't pay attention to the words, but the tune matched the one she'd been humming on Wednesday night. The music connected him to her, but he didn't see the Almighty anywhere in the room. Josh was the same man who'd hired J.T. and got annoyed at crooked nails. His eyes wandered to Bessie and her sister. They were singing the words, but they were still just people.

Mary finished the song with a long “Amen.” On a signal from Josh, the congregation rose to its feet. J.T. stood out of respect for Mary and Josh, not reverence for God.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Josh said in a full voice. “Let's pray.” The minister thanked God for the glorious day. J.T. had to agree. The July morning couldn't have been nicer, but so what? Next Josh prayed for God to bless his sermon. Fine, J.T. thought. He'd listen, but he didn't expect much.

After a hearty “Amen,” Josh looked up. “Our next hymn is ‘Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.'”

When the fiddler played a run, Mary took a breath. In the same instant, she saw J.T. and paused with surprise. He thought of the dream he had, the one where she was singing on a big stage on a Saturday night—the dream where she sang just for him. The moment matched exactly, except they were in a church instead of a theater. And instead of a flashy dress, she had on the lilac gown she'd worn last week. She didn't look like a schoolmarm today, and she no longer seemed harried and worn out.
She couldn't have been more beautiful to him. Just like in his dream, she smiled and began to sing.

J.T. didn't understand the words about streams of mercy. They made no sense at all, but then he heard a voice coming from the seat next to him. It belonged to Gus, and the boy wasn't stammering. J.T. looked at him, amazed at the clear tones. Gus couldn't talk right, but he could sing perfectly. In the boy's eyes, J.T. saw the innocence of a child and the marks of suffering. He saw himself in those depths. He also saw something that scared him half to death. He saw the goodness Mary saw in
him
.

He saw the love of God.

Had the Almighty just shown Himself? It seemed so, but J.T. couldn't believe it. A God with any sense would have been spitting fire at a man like him. He wanted to fight with an enemy. Instead he was looking at Gus with a brotherly love he'd never felt before. The boy needed him, but J.T. needed the boy just as much, maybe more. Gus gave him a purpose, a reason to be an honorable man.

The next words of the hymn made a little more sense.
Jesus sought me when a stranger, Wandering from the fold of God.
J.T. didn't know if he'd wandered from God or not. Could a man wander from someone he'd never known? His mother had owned a Bible and she'd read it, but it had been lost when he and his brothers had been tossed out of their meager apartment. He'd never forget that awful day. A minister with droopy eyes had tried to take J.T. to an orphanage, separating him from his brothers because he'd been the youngest. He'd fought and so had his brothers, though later he'd wondered why.

The stealing had started right away. The fighting got worse and his oldest brother had cut him with a knife.
With the blood running down his scrawny chest, J.T. had made a decision. He'd kill before he'd be killed; he'd hurt others before they hurt him. For close to twenty years he'd lived that way with great success, but today he felt like that boy pinned to the hard ground.

He turned to the front of the room with a scowl. When Mary finished the song, he sat. Josh went to the podium, greeted him with a discreet nod and started talking about love. The minister didn't dwell on the love of a man for a woman or brotherly love. He'd talked about the love that made a man willing to die for others, to make sacrifices and stay decent even when others weren't. Because of his feelings for Mary, J.T. felt the truth of every word.

The truth stopped when Josh got to the part about forgiving his enemies. “We can forgive others because God forgives us,” the minister said.

J.T. had no desire to forgive his brothers. Why would he? They'd beaten him black and blue. He refocused in time to hear Josh talk about turning the other cheek. No way on earth would J.T. let someone beat him up, or worse, beat up someone he cared about. Hadn't Josh seen Gus's black eye? Clearly the man didn't know how it felt to be held down and kicked in the ribs. When J.T. had refused to steal, his oldest brother had pressed the knife into his shoulder and twisted it until he screamed.

He'd come to church today to smoke out the Almighty. Instead he'd been introduced to a fool. With his muscles taut, he stopped listening to Josh and stared at Mary, wondering what had happened with Roy and Gertie and what she'd say when he insisted on walking her home. Just as he'd once vowed to hurt others before they hurt him, he made a mental promise to keep Mary and her sister safe from Roy Desmond. If Mary's God didn't want the job, J.T. would gladly take it.

 

When she finished the opening hymn, Mary sat in the front row with Adie. Could her life be any more complicated? God had created the world in seven days. J.T. had been in Denver for the same amount of time, and her world had gone to pieces. She and Gertie weren't speaking, and yesterday Caroline had quizzed her about J.T. Mary hadn't given her the details about what had happened in Abilene, but her refusal only added to the air of mystery around him.

Today she expected the talk to get worse. J.T. had come to church looking both handsome and skeptical. At the end of the sermon, Josh would invite everyone to Swan's Nest for supper. If he came, her friends would see them together. Good-natured or not, she dreaded the speculation. To end it, she'd be J.T.'s friend today and nothing more.

Another threat to her secret came from Roy. Three days ago she'd turned down his offer. Instead of accepting her decision graciously, he'd taunted her in a sly tone. Predictably, Gertie had been furious.

But why! You said—

I know what I said. I made a mistake. I got carried away. You're too young.

It's because of what J. T. Quinn said, isn't it? Who is he, anyway? He's practically a criminal!

To her shame, Mary had said nothing in J.T.'s defense. He'd acted honorably, but she couldn't defend him to Gertie. Her sister would ask too many questions…questions Mary didn't want to answer. She desperately wanted to put Gertie on the next train to New York, so yesterday she'd gone to the bank to borrow money. The banker had turned her down, kindly suggesting that patience was a better investment. If only Gertie had agreed. The
girl hadn't spoken to Mary in two days. She'd come to church this morning, but only because Gus had asked.

Mary tried to focus on the sermon just as Josh closed his Bible. As expected he invited everyone to Swan's Nest, then motioned for Mary to come forward for the closing hymn. She sang the same song every week, so the words came easily even though her thoughts remained scattered. After the last note, the crowd broke apart. As men put back the chairs, the women drifted to the refreshment table.

Mary spotted J.T. and Gus at the back of the room. The boy looked happy, but the man had an angry gleam in his eyes. Gertie was heading for the door, and she looked smug. Mary couldn't stop her sister, so she approached J.T. and Gus.

J.T. scowled at her, but Gus smiled. “H-h-h-i!”

“Hi, there,” she replied. His hair had fallen in his eyes. She itched to smooth it back but stopped herself. J.T. was right. Gus needed to grow up.

“W-watch this.” He gave Fancy the signal to sit. When the dog obeyed, he fed her a cookie.

Mary smiled at J.T. Instead of enjoying his dog's talent, he looked ready to kick a chair across the room. “You don't look happy,” she said mildly.

“I'm not.”

He was glowering when Caroline approached. “I haven't officially met Mr. Quinn,” she said to Mary. She did
not
want Caroline asking questions
or
playing matchmaker. “J.T., this is Miss Caroline Bradley. Caroline, this is Mr. J. T. Quinn.”

J.T. lost the scowl. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bradley.”

“Call me Caroline. I hope you're coming for supper.”

J.T. looked peeved. “I don't think so.”

“Jake plays a mean jig,” Caroline said with a teasing air. “You should see Mary dance.”

“I've had the pleasure,” he replied. “We were acquainted in Abilene.”

Mary was the actress, but J.T. delivered the explanation of their past in a perfectly casual tone.

Caroline smiled at him. “I'd love to hear more about those days. Mary has such a beautiful voice. I bet she was famous.”

Infamous
had been more like it. She traded a look with J.T., one that would have seemed bland to an observer but held all the ties of the past.
Please don't reveal anything. Please keep quiet.

Looking almost bored, he turned to Caroline. “Mary had quite a career. But like she said, it was a long time ago.”

Caroline wasn't appeased. “How did you two meet?”

Annoyed, Mary cut in. “We met at the theater. That's all there is to it.”

“That's right,” J.T. said mildly.

Bessie approached from the side. “Good morning, Mr. Quinn. I hope you'll join us for supper this afternoon.”

He shook his head. “I don't think—”

Gus interrupted. “P-p-lease, J.T.? It'll be f-fun.”

A week ago her brother had been silent and sullen. Today he had spunk. J.T. shot her a look. He had no desire to go to supper, and he knew his presence would raise questions for her, but he also wanted to please Gus. To keep the talk to a minimum, they needed to appear to be friends. Mary offered a warm smile. “You're more than welcome, J.T.”

“All right,” he said. “I accept.”

Bessie, always a nurse, tipped up Gus's chin and looked at his black eye. “You've got quite a shiner.”

“Yeah.”

“How's the rest of you?”

“G-g-good.” He wanted to say more but couldn't.

J.T. filled in. “Gus is working with me on the new church.”

When Mary smiled her appreciation at J.T., Caroline saw and got a mischievous look. The woman was an unstoppable matchmaker. Mary could have been angry, but her heart ached for her friend. Of the five women from Swan's Nest, Caroline had been the most eager to have a family of her own. A young widow, she'd suffered in ways no one else had. No matter what Caroline did, Mary loved her.

Bessie indicated three men leaning against the wall. “I believe those gentlemen need refreshments, Caroline. Shall we?”

“I—I—I want more, too,” Gus added.

“Then let's get you some.” Caroline motioned to Gus, and the three of them left. Fancy stayed with J.T.

Frowning, he scratched the dog's ears. “Sorry about going to supper. I hope it's not awkward for you.”

“We can handle it.”
We.
When had they gone from enemies to allies? Mary didn't know, but she appreciated his consideration.