The Outlaw's Return (5 page)

M
ary walked to the end of the street and called her brother's name for the fifth time. When he didn't answer, she went back to Swan's Nest and looked for him again in the garden. Without a sign of him, she paced back to the street. A rider and a cloud of dust caught her eye and she stopped. The man's black duster billowed behind him, and he'd pulled his hat low against the wind. A dog ran at his side.

“Fancy Girl,” she murmured. J.T. had tracked her down, and he was approaching at a gallop. What could he possibly want? She couldn't stand the thought of speaking with him in front of her friends. As he rode closer, the blankness of his silhouette took on color and shape. He was clutching something against his body. Not
something,
she realized.
Someone
…a boy with blond hair and a bloody white shirt.

“Augustus!” Hoisting her skirts, she ran to them.

J.T. reined the horse to a halt at the iron gate. With the boy limp in his arms, he slid from the saddle. “He needs a doctor.”

“I'll fetch Bessie.” A trained nurse, the older woman had served in the War Between the States. If she couldn't
help Augustus, Mary would send Gertie for Doc Nichols. She flung the gate wide. “Take him to the parlor.”

She waited until J.T. passed with the dog at his heels, then she raced by him and opened the front door. “Bessie!” she called down the hall to the kitchen. “Come quick!”

Wearing a white apron and drying her hands, the nurse hurried down the hall. “What is it?”

“It's Augustus. He's hurt.”

J.T.'s boots thudded on the polished wood floor. “Where do you want him?”

“On the divan,” Bessie ordered. “Who are you?”

“A friend of Mary's.”

The nurse nodded, an indication Adie had shared her curiosity with Bessie before Mary arrived. It hadn't been gossip, just friends caring about each other, but Mary still felt uncomfortable.

With the boy cradled in his arms, J.T. strode across the room where only moments ago Mary had stood with Adie. He lowered Augustus with a gentleness she remembered from Abilene, then he stepped back to make room for Bessie. As he tossed his hat on a chair, Fancy Girl walked to his side and sat.

Bessie pulled up a chair and started her examination. Terrified, Mary hovered over her shoulder. Bruises on Augustus's cheek promised a black eye, and he had a bloody nose and split lip. Her gaze dropped to his shirt. Red smears in the shape of knuckles testified to what had happened. Her brother had been beaten.

She whirled to J.T. “Who did this?”

“We'll talk later,” he said in a low tone.

She wanted answers now, but mostly she wanted her brother to wake up. She turned back to his limp body and saw Bessie taking his pulse. The nurse lowered his wrist,
but her expression remained detached. “Get the smelling salts,” she ordered. “And water and clean towels.”

“Will he be all right?” Mary asked.

“I don't know yet.”

Her eyes darted to J.T. Adie and Caroline were outside, and she needed help. “Come with me.”

He followed her down the hall, his steps heavy on the wood while hers clicked. She wanted to know why he'd been near Swan's Nest, but she didn't dare ask. Augustus had urgent needs, and she didn't want to breathe a word of the past in front of anyone. In the kitchen she opened a cabinet with medical supplies and found the smelling salts. Next she filled a bowl with hot water and fetched clean towels from a shelf. J.T. lifted the bowl and carried it down the hall. Mary followed with the towels and smelling salts.

Bessie uncorked the bottle of ammonia carbonate and held it under Augustus's nose. She waved it once, twice. His nostrils flared, then his eyes popped open. Groaning, he rolled to the side and vomited. Bessie held a bowl under his chin and caught the mess. Mary saw streaks of blood and gasped. Was he bleeding inside? Were his ribs cracked? Bessie needed to know, so Mary turned again to J.T. “You've got to tell us what happened.”

He shook his head.

How dare he withhold information! She raised her voice. “I want to know who did this.”

He put one finger to his lips. It had been an old signal between them, a warning to guard her mouth around people he didn't trust. Considering the circumstances, it infuriated her. “Talk to me.”

“I'll explain later.” He looked disgusted with her. “The boy fought hard. Give him his pride.”

Mary saw his point. Embarrassed by her outburst, she
dipped a towel in the hot water. While Bessie checked for broken bones, Mary wiped the blood from her brother's face and neck. When the nurse poked his ribs, he groaned.

“Do you think they're broken?” Mary asked.

“I'd say they're bruised.”

Furious, Mary set the towel on the rim of the bowl and lifted a dry one. For her brother's sake, she had to stay calm. Augustus was twelve years old, but his stammering made him seem younger. In her heart, he'd always be the baby brother she'd rocked to sleep in Frog's Landing. Looking down, she smoothed his hair from his damp brow. “How are you feeling?”

“I—I hurt.”

His lips quivered with the need to say more, but he sealed them in frustration. If she pressured him, the stammer would get worse. She had no choice but to wait for Augustus to calm down or for J.T. to enlighten her. With her lips sealed, she watched as her brother craned his head to look at the man in the corner. What she saw on his bruised face could only be described as awe. She didn't blame him a bit. It seemed that J.T. had come out of nowhere to help him. She didn't know who had attacked her brother, but Augustus's expression told her J.T. had stopped the beating. She owed the man her gratitude. She didn't want to owe him anything, but he'd been good to Augustus.

Bessie finished checking for broken bones then looked into Augustus's eyes. She held up three fingers. “How many do you see?”

The boy held up his hand to indicate three.

“Good,” Bessie replied Mary thought of the red-streaked vomit. “I'm worried.” She indicated the bowl. “What about the blood?”

“It's from the nosebleed.”

Fear drained from her muscles, leaving her limp. “So he's going to be all right?”

“I'd say so.” Bessie looked at Augustus. “You took quite a beating, young man. I think you fainted from shock. Your ribs are badly bruised, and you're going to have a black eye. We'll get ice for that in a minute. I'm also going to bind up your ribs.”

“Th-th-thank—” He bit his lip.

“You're welcome,” Bessie replied. “You should stay in bed for a few days, then you can move around as much as you're able.” The nurse patted his skinny shoulder, then left to fetch the wrapping for his ribs.

Mary took Bessie's place on the chair. “I'm so sorry this happened to you.”

Her brother looked down at his feet. She'd never seen him look so defeated. Had he been bullied because of his speech? It seemed likely. He'd been teased about his stammering all his life, but people in Frog's Landing had known him. In Denver, a city populated by strangers, he'd become an outcast.

J.T. crossed the room. When he reached boy's side, he offered his hand. “Hello, Augustus. We met, but you might not remember. I'm J. T. Quinn.”

“I—I remember.”

Augustus took the man's hand and shook. Mary had never seen her brother do anything so grown up, or J.T. do anything so kind.

Augustus tried to sit up, but J.T. nudged him flat. “Don't torture those ribs. I've busted mine a couple of times. It hurts a lot.”

The boy nodded vigorously.

J.T. pulled a side chair from the wall and positioned it next to hers at an angle where Augustus could see him.
He dropped down on the seat and hunkered forward. “We gotta talk, kid.”

Figuring J.T. didn't know about the stutter, Mary cringed for her brother. “He has trouble speaking.”

“I know that.”

“You don't understand,” she continued. “He—”

“He's fine.” J.T. kept his eyes on Augustus. “All things considered, you handled yourself well.”

In Mary's experience, her brother turned into jelly when kids bullied him. She looked at J.T., then wished she hadn't. They were side by side, so close she could smell the bay rum on his newly scraped jaw. When she'd seen him earlier, he'd been unshaven and reeking of whiskey and sweat. Now he looked presentable. More than presentable. Blinking, she recalled the man she'd met backstage in Abilene, the handsome stranger who'd pursued her with a look.

J.T. met her gaze and held it, signaling her with a mild glint to be quiet. She bristled, then realized he knew far more about the episode than she did. She didn't understand boys at all, and Augustus with his silence presented an even bigger challenge. She knew he needed a man in his life. She'd been asking God to send a grandfatherly sort of man from church, but the prayer had gone unanswered.

When she stayed silent, J.T. turned back to Augustus. His lips tipped into a smile. “There's nothing I like better than chasing off a bully. Thanks to you, I got to run off three of them.”

When Augustus rolled his eyes, Mary realized J.T. was telling the story for her benefit.

“Yeah, they were big,” he continued. “Mean, too. You're going to have a glory of a shiner.”

Augustus made a face.

Instead of offering pity, J.T. laughed. “Welcome to the club, kid. You'll be fine in a few days, but I've been wondering… Has this happened before?”

Augustus looked down at his feet. “S-s-sort of.”

Shivers ran down Mary's spine. “It has to stop. We'll go to the sheriff.”

J.T. looked exasperated. “Don't waste your breath.”

“We have to try,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he answered. “But there's not going to be a deputy in the alley next time Augustus gets waylaid. We need to solve this ourselves.” He'd said
we
. He didn't have that right. Her eyes snapped to his profile, but he was looking at her brother. She knew he could feel her gaze. He was dismissing her the way he'd walked out on her in Abilene. She wanted to tell him to leave Swan's Nest
now,
but the situation with Augustus complicated everything.

The boy kept his eyes on J.T. “They w-w-ant me to steal from…” he looked at Mary, pleading with her to understand.

She repeated for him. “They want you to steal from…?”

“Y-you!”

“Me?” Her brow wrinkled.

J.T. kept his focus on her brother. “Let me take a stab at this. Those guttersnipes know you're Mary's brother, right?”

“Yes,” Augustus managed.

“They know she runs the café.”

The boy nodded.

“They want you to take money out of that cash box she keeps just inside the kitchen.”

Mary frowned at him. “How do
you
know about that box?”

“I saw it.” His smirk reminded her that he'd ridden with the Carver gang before he'd become a hired gun. J.T. would never steal from her, but he knew how to do it. “You work hard, Mary. Put that box somewhere else.”

“I will.”

He turned back to her brother. “Do you know who these bullies are?”

In fits and starts, he described how they'd cornered him one day when he'd been running an errand. They'd threatened to beat him up unless he brought them five dollars. He refused, and for the past week he'd been afraid to leave the café. Today they'd followed him to Swan's Nest.

Mary's heart bled for him. “Sweetie, why didn't you tell me?”

He jerked his head to the side, but not before she saw hurt in his eyes. She smoothed his hair. “I'll fix it, Augustus. I promise. I'll talk to their parents. I'll—”

“Stay out of it,” J.T. said quietly. “This is your brother's fight.”

“But he's so young,” she argued. “And he's small for his age. He can't protect himself.”

“I say he can,” J.T. replied. “He just needs to learn a few things.”

She agreed, but he didn't need to learn them from an outlaw-turned-gunslinger. What could J.T. possibly teach the boy? How to beat someone into pudding? How to gamble and lie? How to charm a woman and break her heart? She didn't want him anywhere near her brother. Augustus was a gentle, tenderhearted boy who liked to whittle and play checkers. He didn't need J. T. Quinn in his life. He needed an older man who'd teach him to be respectful.

J.T. looked at her for five long seconds, then he sat
back in the chair and studied the boy. “Those lessons are starting right now.”

She gasped. “Now wait just a minute—”

J.T. stayed focused on Augustus. “We'll start with your name. From now on you go by Gus.”

“Gus?” The boy copied him.

“That's right.” J.T. shifted his boot to his knee. “No more of this ‘Augustus' stuff. It's a terrible name. Half the time even
I
can't say it.”

The boy giggled. Mary refused to crack a smile, though her lips quivered. J.T. had a point. For a boy who stuttered,
Augustus
was a torture.

J.T. shook his head with mock drama. “How'd you get such an awful handle anyhow?”

The boy shrugged, but Mary knew. “He was born in August. Our mother loved the summer.”

The man grimaced. “It's a good thing he wasn't born in a girly month like June.”

“Or-or J-Januar-r-r-y!”

The three of them laughed until Gus hugged his ribs. “It h-h-hurts!”

But Mary knew it felt good, too. She hadn't heard her brother laugh in a long time.

Breathing light, the boy turned to the man. “Th-thank you, Mr. Quinn.”

“Call me J.T.” He sounded gruff.

Mary wanted to forbid the friendship, but she couldn't deny the excitement in her brother's eyes. For the first time since he'd arrived in Denver, confused and hurting after their mother's passing, he'd connected with someone.