The Outlaw's Return (14 page)

His gaze hardened, but in a good way. “What was that for?”

“For everything,” she said. “For Gus. For Gertie…”

He held her a bit tighter. “I'm watching out for them. I'm keeping an eye on you, too.”

A week ago she had given J.T. the cold shoulder. Today she wanted—needed—to trust him. If he hadn't come to Denver, she might have stepped into Roy's trap. Not only did her siblings need this man's influence, but she felt the stirrings of the old attraction. She wanted to hold him close. She yearned to comfort him and lean on him, but she knew how quickly he could disappoint her. She stepped out of his grasp. “Let's find Gus.”

Side by side they walked into the garden with Fancy at J.T.'s side. They found Gus finishing his supper and told him about the puppies.

“C-c-can I keep one?”

J.T. grinned. “You get first choice.”

Mary left the two of them talking about dogs and camping while she searched for Adie. She found her friend in the house, putting Stephen down for a nap in the nursery. When the boy settled, Adie led Mary to the bedroom she shared with Josh. There she sat on the settee while Mary swayed in an old rocking chair, telling Adie about J.T.'s talk with Roy, Roy's insistence she play Arline and his influence on Gertie.

“I'm terrified for her,” Mary finished. “She has no idea what she's doing.”

“No, she doesn't.” Adie looked peeved. “We want Gertie to come home, but you can't force her.”

Mary agreed. “She'd run away again.”

“Have you considered talking to her plainly?” Adie meant about the scandal.

“I think about it all the time, but I can't trust her to keep it to herself. And I'm ashamed. I want to be a good example for her. What will she think if she knows the things I've done?”

“It's a tough choice, but one you're going to have to make.” Adie straightened a pillow on the bench. “Whatever you decide, Gertie's not the only person you have to worry about.”

“There's always Gus—”

“I'm not talking about your brother.” She nudged the pillow again. “I want to hear about that handsome man who's obviously in love with you.”

“Adie!”

“Well, he is,” she said plainly. “Are you in love with him?”

Mary shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“I saw you riding with him.” Adie didn't have Caroline's matchmaking instincts, but she could separate truth from wishful thinking with a shrewdness that came from experience. “You looked happy about it, too.”

“I was, but I don't want to be. He hurt me terribly. I can't trust him.”

“You're trusting him with Gus and Gertie.”

“That's different.”

“It's also a start,” Adie said quietly.

“I will
not
fall in love!” Mary rocked harder in the chair. “Not with J.T. or any other man.”

“I said the same thing a year ago. So did Pearl Oliver, and look at her now.”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” Adie asked. “Do you really think you can choose whom you love?”

Mary wanted to say yes, but she couldn't deny the stirring in her heart. “I don't know.”

“God isn't blind to what's happening between you two.”

“I don't want
anything
to happen,” she insisted. “I don't trust him. Besides, he's not a Christian.”

“Neither was I before I met Josh.” Adie looked wistful. “He loved me anyway…as a friend.”

A lump pushed into Mary's throat. The thought of trusting J.T. even as a friend terrified her. So did the sight of a baby blanket lying haphazardly on the settee and the glide of the chair where Adie rocked her son to sleep. She couldn't love J.T. until she trusted him, and she couldn't fully trust him until she told him her secret. She stared out the open window, listening to the chirp of a sparrow. “It's not that simple.”

“Why not?”

The words spilled out before she could stop them. “I was with child when J.T. left me. I lost it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Adie reached for her hand. “Does he know?”

“No, and I can't tell him. He'd say something mean, and I'd hurt all over again.”

“He might surprise you.”

He already had. What he'd done for Gus had left her in awe, and he'd been smart about Gertie. Mary knew how to cope with hurt feelings. J.T.'s good intentions unnerved her.

“Pray about it,” Adie advised.

Mary didn't want to even
think
about it, but she had to be willing. “I'll try.”

“That's enough.”

Mary could have stayed in the quiet room for hours, but Gus and J.T. would be looking for her. “We should go back.”

The women returned to the garden, where Mary found J.T. seated with Bessie and Caroline, polishing off a meal. The next two hours passed in a blur. She expected him to be remote, but instead he entertained her friends with stories of his travels. He'd been all over the West, everywhere from Texas to Montana, and he'd seen everything from a line of twisters eating up the prairie to a cattle drive bigger than Rhode Island.

Near the end of the afternoon, Caroline and Jake the fiddler coaxed Mary into singing some old favorites. She had a grand time, but the real stars of the day were Gus and Fancy Girl. As the boy showed off her tricks with hand signals, Mary couldn't decide who looked more proud—Gus or J.T.

The last surprise came as they stood to leave. When Josh offered to stable J.T.'s horses at Swan's Nest, J.T. agreed and thanked him. Not once in Abilene had the man accepted a favor from anyone.

They said their goodbyes, then she and J.T. headed down the street, with Gus and Fancy Girl walking several feet ahead of them. If they'd been in Abilene, she'd have been expecting a kiss. She felt the anticipation now, and it was pleasant. She couldn't trust J.T. with her heart, but did the battle have to be won before she kissed him? Common sense told her yes, but he deserved to know she appreciated the changes in him.

When they reached the café, Gus was waiting on the third step. She reached in her pocket and handed him the key. “Go on up. I'll be right behind you.”

He hugged Fancy Girl so hard that Mary thought the
dog would pop. J.T. watched with a smile. “Hey, girl. Kiss goodnight.”

He'd spoken to the dog, but his eyes were on her as Fancy licked Gus's face with abandon.

“Good night, Fancy,” Gus said easily.

J.T. offered his hand to the boy and they shook. “Get some sleep, partner. We're leaving early.”

The boy raced up the steps, leaving her alone with this man who confused her and dusk falling like a curtain. She knew J.T.'s ways. If she stayed, he'd kiss her. With streaks of pink coloring the horizon, a kiss seemed like a precious gift, a reminder that love trumped a man's mistakes. She couldn't trust J.T. completely, but he needed to know people cared about him. Feeling shy, she tilted her face up to his. He looked into her eyes like he'd done in Abilene, but he didn't move. Instead he inhaled softly, then he kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Mary.”

She'd expected more, wanted more. “You're leaving?”

“Yeah.”

She didn't know what to think.

“Go on, now,” he murmured. “Get upstairs before I kiss you the way I want.”

She couldn't move her feet, couldn't think beyond the shock of J.T. resisting the kiss she'd been willing to give. If he'd kissed her, her heart would have sped up. Without the kiss, it wanted to fly out of her chest. Instead of taking the gift she had freely offered, he'd chosen to protect her from possible regrets. She'd been ready to forget herself. Tonight J.T. had been strong.

She cupped his cheek. “There's goodness in you, Jonah. I see it.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. Instead he murmured, “Good night, Mary. Pleasant dreams.”

She turned and went up the stairs, his presence gentle in her mind as he waited for her to step inside the apartment. She closed the door, then went to the window and looked down. Her eyes found his, and he acknowledged her with a nod. Touching the glass, she whispered a prayer for him, then watched as he walked down the street. She prayed for him until he vanished from sight, then she kissed her fingers and pressed them to the window, leaving a mark on the glass shining darkly between them.

E
arly the next morning J.T. had breakfast with Gus at the café, then the two of them rode to the stream past the Slewfoot Mine. They spent the day shooting at cans and laughing at stupid jokes, then they fished for their supper. They caught enough trout to feed themselves and Fancy Girl, burned a can of beans and ate all the biscuits Mary had tucked into Gus's pack.

Full to the brim and tuckered out, Gus spread his bedroll on one side of the fire and climbed in. Fancy was stretched at his side. Yawning, the boy stared up at the stars. J.T. wasn't ready to settle down. Sitting on a rock by the campfire, he refilled his coffee cup. The day had left him pleasantly worn out, but he was worried. When he and Gus first set up camp, he'd found two whiskey bottles, a sign someone had camped here last night. Whoever he was, he'd used the brand preferred by Griff Lassen. J.T. had tossed the bottles aside, but the smell had reminded him of the things he'd denied himself. In particular he was thinking of last night's kiss…the one he'd held back.

In Abilene he'd have kissed her until she told him to stop, and he'd have made sure she didn't want to stop.
Last night he'd stopped for them both. It made no sense. For six months he'd imagined holding her close. She'd given him the chance and he'd stepped back. He had to be crazy or stupid, maybe both. He picked up a rock and heaved it into the dark.

Gus turned over in his bedroll. “A-a-are you all right?”

“Sure.”

“Y-y-you look mad.”

“Nah.” He dumped his coffee to do something. “I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Looking slightly nervous, the boy propped himself on one elbow. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It's about…where p-p-uppies come from.”

“Puppies?” J.T. almost stammered like Gus. “You mean like…where babies come from?”

“Sort of.”

No one ever got the jump on J.T., but Gus had caught him completely off guard. He had no desire to have this particular talk, but he also saw a need. What twelve-year-old boy wanted to ask his sister about such personal things? J.T. saw a chance to man up and do something good. He tossed a second rock. “So you want to know about babies and stuff.”

“S-s-sort of.”

The boy stammered more when he was worried, so J.T. took the bull by the horns. “It's nature's way, kid. A man and a woman—”

Gus shook his head. “I—I—I already kn-n-ow
that
part.”

Relief washed over J.T., until he realized Gus's real
question might be even harder to answer. “What do you want to know?”

“I know where b-b-babies come from. I just don't know
why.
”

“Why what?”

“Why it happens.”

Six months ago, J.T. would have said nature took its course. Tonight he recalled
not
kissing Mary, and he knew he had to give Gus an honest answer. What he said would influence the boy for the rest of his life. J.T.'s own education on the matter had come from his oldest brother, and it had been crude. Even at a tender age, he'd known his brother was wrong-minded about women.

He saw a chance to give Gus something better. “The best way it happens is when a man and woman love each other and get married.” He didn't bother telling the boy about the other ways it happened, or the worst ways.

“Wh-why do they love each other?”

“That's a mystery to me, too.” He tapped his fingers on the enamel cup. “A man meets the right lady, and it just happens.”

“H-h-has it happened to you?”

The meaning of the question hit J.T. hard. For six months, he'd thought about finding Mary and being with her. He'd recalled how she'd cared for him in Abilene and how she'd made him smile. Not once had he thought beyond giving her a place to sing. Marrying hadn't been in the plan, and neither had giving her children. He'd been too selfish to think about anything except his own wants. Last night when he hadn't kissed her, he'd done it for her…he'd done it for
them
. The meaning of that choice hit him hard.

He kicked the dirt. “Yeah, I've been in love.”

“Do you l-love m-my sister?”

He saw
that
question coming. Looking stern, he stared at Gus across the fire. The boy stared back with a daring J.T. had to admire. Instead of telling Gus that some questions were too personal, he laughed out loud.

Gus glared at him. “Well, do you?”

He knew better than to involve the boy. Yes, he loved Mary. He could admit it to himself, but what did he have to give her? His guns, two good horses and a talent for faro. And his bad name. No woman in her right mind would want J. T. Quinn for a husband, but he felt a yearning he couldn't deny. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with Mary Larue, and he wanted to give her the respect of a wedding ring.

He felt Gus's eyes on his face and hoped the boy couldn't read his thoughts. He picked up another rock and hurled it at a distant shadow. “If I talk to anyone about that, it should be your sister.”

“But you like her, don't you?”

“Yes, Gus. I do. I like your sister a lot.” He felt a lot more than
like,
but
like
would do for a twelve-year-old. “It's late, and we're hunting rabbit tomorrow. You need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” The boy hunkered down in his bedroll.

J.T. spread his own blankets, then stretched flat and stared at the sky. He didn't doubt his love for Mary, but what could he do about it? Even if he found a way to make a living—he enjoyed roofing—other differences kept them apart. She believed in God, and he didn't. No way would J.T. ever turn the other cheek to an enemy. Looking at the patchwork of clouds and sky, he began to wonder—did it matter what he thought about God? He couldn't share her faith, but maybe he didn't need to compete with it. All couples had their differences. She liked rhubarb and he didn't. He liked his coffee hot and
strong. She ruined hers with cream. Did their differences really matter? He'd cleaned up his life. He was willing to die for her. Surely that was enough to earn back her trust.

He was pondering the possibility when he heard scuffling in the brush. Bolting upright, he grabbed his gun and took aim. Fancy Girl jumped to her feet and growled. When the noise faded completely, he uncocked the hammer.

Gus sat upright. Sleepy but wide-eyed, he looked at the gun in J.T.'s hand. “Did you hear something?”

“Just a coyote.”

The boy patted Fancy Girl, then glanced at the sky. He looked nervous, and J.T. regretted scaring him. It would have been worse, though, if someone had snuck up on them.

Gus looked at him from across the dead campfire. “C-c-an I asked you another question?”

“Sure.” It couldn't be worse than the ones about love.

“D-do you ever pray?”

He was wrong. This question was harder. Gus looked up to him. What he said would matter, and J.T. didn't want the boy to be like him. He also had to be honest, because anything less would insult them both. He put the gun back under the blanket he used for a pillow. “I prayed when I was your age.”

“What about now?”

“Not much.”
Not ever.

“I-it's not hard.” Gus sounded confident. “M-my mama taught me special words to s-s-ay, but mostly I th-think them.”

J.T. had no idea what to say, but he wanted to encourage the boy. “That's good.”

“I—I don't stammer when I t-t-talk in my head.”

What would that be like, J.T. wondered, to hear yourself right but have the words come out wrong? Every man had flaws, but Gus lived with constant failure. It had to hurt.

The boy seemed to be talking to the dark. “M-ary says my stam-m-mer doesn't m-m-matter to God, but I w-wish i-it would stop.”

“I know the feeling, Gus.” J.T. had wishes of his own. “I've never had a stammer, but there are things about myself I don't much like.”

He had no desire to share his regrets with Gus. The boy had been far too protected to understand J.T.'s choices. To his relief, Gus lay back down. So did J.T., but he felt as if the stars were pinning him down. Since he'd dared God to show Himself, he'd had been pestered by clouds and curious boys, hot benches, friendly people, puppies and most dangerous of all, the notion of being in love. If the Almighty had taken J.T.'s challenge to show Himself, He'd done it in curious ways.

Gus's voice came out of the dark. “J.T.?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think G-God listens?”

A week ago he'd have said no. Tonight he was asking the same question. “I don't know.”

“I do,” Gus said with certainty.

As if that were enough, the boy fell asleep, leaving J.T. to stare at the sky. He shut his eyes to hide the stars, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched, or watched over, so he opened them again. A falling star shot across the black expanse, leaving a trail that faded to nothing. He imagined his own life ending the same way. He wasn't afraid of dying. He wasn't afraid of anything…. Except he was. He was terrified of small dark
places and being pinned on his back. He was worried about Fancy Girl having puppies, and he feared what Roy Desmond would do to Gertie. And Mary. He was afraid he'd lose her again before he could fully earn her trust.

A cloud obscured the top half of the crescent moon. As the shadow passed, Fancy Girl lumbered to her feet and came to him. Leaving Gus to his dreams, she took her usual spot and rested her head on his chest.

“Hi there, girl.” He scratched her neck the way she liked, then rested his hand on her belly. The puppies were quiet now, but he could feel the promise of life and it humbled him. There were things a man could do, and things he couldn't. J.T. could take a life, but he couldn't give it back. He hoped Mary would be around when Fancy's time came. The dog would do all the work, but he knew that birth and death were a breath apart.

“Rest up, girl,” he murmured. “You're going to be fine.”

The dog's tail whapped.

“I know,” he said to her. “Strange things are happening to both of us.”

J.T. didn't have new life growing in his belly, but he felt the stirrings just the same. With Fancy at his side, he closed his eyes and thought of what he'd do with Gus tomorrow. They'd hunt rabbit so the boy could practice with a rifle, then they'd do some more boxing. Lost in pleasant thoughts, he fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.

 

On Wednesday morning Mary finished cleaning up after breakfast, locked the café and went to Swan's Nest to borrow a buggy. In her arms was a picnic basket, and in her pocket was the map J.T. had left to the stream where they'd be camping. He'd given it to her without being
asked, and she'd been impressed. After a chat with Adie, she left Denver with a sense of pleasant anticipation.

She'd had plenty of time to think about her feelings for J.T. She didn't feel ready to tell him about the miscarriage, but she liked the idea of being his friend. Adie had helped to open Mary's eyes, but sadly so had Gertie. While praying for her sister, Mary had seen herself even more clearly in Gertie's determination to ignore the facts about Roy. Mary couldn't deny that J.T. had changed.

She'd seen the evidence for herself and no longer questioned his good intentions, but his place in her life was another matter. Regret changed a man's heart, but faith changed his ways. With faith, a man could love a woman more than he cared about himself. Without it Mary couldn't trust J.T. fully, but she hoped they could be friends. To show him she'd crossed a line, she'd packed a picnic lunch with cobbler and other goodies, and she planned to surprise him at the stream.

With the sun bright, she passed the Slewfoot Mine and turned down the road that led to Cherry Creek. It wound past boulders and cottonwoods, around a bend and ended at a clearing. She saw ashes in the fire pit, bedrolls, neatly stacked cookware and their horses grazing nearby. J.T. and Gus had to be close, so she climbed out of the buggy. Heading toward the creek, she heard J.T. making playful threats, Gus's high-pitched shouting and the furious splashing of a water fight.

Enjoying the happy sounds, she ambled down the trail until the sparkle of amber glass stopped her in her tracks. Looking more closely, she saw a whiskey bottle in the brush. Not just one bottle, but two. Trembling, she bent down and inspected them. They were both clean, unmarked by rainwater or dirt. One of them had no odor, but the other still reeked and was marked with
fingerprints. It hadn't been there long. Maybe hours…no more than a day or two.

J.T. had let her down…again.

She wanted to go back to the buggy and leave, but she couldn't leave Gus in the care of a drunken gunfighter.

Furious, she picked up the bottle and marched to the stream. From the top of a small rise, she saw the man and the boy waging war with water and buckets. She saw J.T.'s shaving tools on a rock, his shirt hanging on a willow branch and Gus's shirt next to it as if they were cut from the same cloth. She stood with the whiskey bottle in her hand, watching and crying and wishing J.T. had never come back to Denver.

With her eyes on J.T.'s face, she navigated between the rocks and weeds. He didn't see her and neither did Gus. She watched her brother dump a bucket of water over J.T.'s head. The clear liquid sparkled on his hair and face, then ran in streams down his chest, washing him clean but not really.

“Why, God?” she murmured. “Why did You bring him back just to fail me?”

As if to answer her question, J.T. suddenly spotted her and smiled. Gus took advantage and knocked him off his feet. He went under and came up sputtering and laughing and happier than she'd ever seen him. With a disgusted look, she held up the whiskey bottle. She waved it for him to see, threw it as far as she could and went back to the buggy to wait.