The Outlaw's Return (6 page)

J.T. pushed to his feet. “Get some rest, Gus. I need a word with your sister.”

“S-sure.”

Mary needed a word with him, too. If he thought he could weasel his way into her life by helping her brother, he'd be wise to think again. She had to keep this man as far from her family and friends as she could. Since he'd found Gus close to Swan's Nest, it was evident he'd been coming to see her. She wanted to know why.

“I'll be back,” she said to Augustus—Gus now.

As she stood, J.T. offered his hand as if the boy were a grown man. “I'm proud to know you, Gus.”

Her brother gripped J.T.'s fingers and shook hard. “I—I—uh—M-me, t-too.”

J.T. let go and put his hands on his hips, pulling back the duster enough to show his guns. “Every man takes a beating now and then. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he doesn't. Those jerks today were bigger than you—older, too. You didn't steal the money like they wanted, so stand tall.”

Instead of the man who'd hurt her, Mary saw Gus's hero. Her heart softened, but she steeled herself against any fondness. She had to remember J.T. had hurt her. The other feelings he inspired—the good ones—made her weak in the knees.

Bessie came through the door with a tray holding strips of cloth. “I'll bind his ribs now. Why don't you two get some supper?”

J.T. met her gaze. “Thank you, ma'am. But I need a word with Mary, then I'll be on my way.”

“Whatever you'd like,” Bessie replied.

Mary didn't know what to make of J.T.'s consideration. She'd have to answer questions when he left, but he'd saved her from being a spectacle in the garden. He picked up his hat and together they headed to the doorway. As he passed Fancy Girl, the dog pushed to her feet and followed. When they reached the hall, he clasped
Mary's arm and steered her to the door. “We need some privacy.”

“Yes, we do.”

With her heart pounding, she followed J.T. to the porch. As she expected, he paced to the railing and looked up and down the street. She saw the gunfighter who never let his guard down, but below the surface lived the boy who'd been brutalized by his own brothers. J.T. had hurt her, but life had hurt him first. It had hurt her, too. Not until she'd come to Swan's Nest had she found a measure of peace.

When she'd been brash, her friends had been kind.

When she'd been arrogant, they'd been patient.

She knew the value of that kind of love, and she tried to share it with others. She'd
thought
she'd been tested by Gertie and her haughty airs, but it seemed the Lord had sent someone else to try her patience…the man who'd hurt her more than anyone on earth. Even for Gus's sake, she couldn't risk J.T. staying in Denver. No matter the cost, she had to convince him to leave town tonight.

J.T.
didn't often get a chance to be kind. People paid for his meanness, and they got their money's worth. He counted saving Fancy Girl as his one act of goodness. Befriending Gus would be the second. He genuinely liked the boy, but he saw another benefit to helping the kid. He'd hurt Mary when he'd left her in Abilene. Teaching Gus to defend himself would help pay that debt.

If someone didn't teach the boy how to fight, he'd end up dead or mean. J.T. couldn't let that happen. He had to convince Mary to let him help her brother, so he dropped his hat on a low table and propped his hips on the railing, watching as she considered the porch swing but remained on her feet. If things had gone as he'd hoped when he'd arrived, he would have enjoyed sitting with her. He'd have put his arm around her and nudged her head down to his shoulder. They'd been a perfect fit in that way. Enjoying the memory, he indicated the swing. “Have a seat.”

“No, thank you.”

She gave him the coldest look he'd ever gotten, and that said a lot considering his occupation. If she wanted to fight, so be it. He'd always enjoyed sparring with her. Leaning back on the railing, he supported his weight with
his hands. The duster fell open, but he didn't think much about it. Mary knew he wore his guns all the time.

He got down to business. “I'm gonna stay in town as long as your brother needs help.”

“That's not necessary.”

“I say it is.” He spoke so softly he barely heard himself. “Gus needs me.”

“He'll be fine.”

“Like I was
fine
in New York?”

She knew about the scar on his shoulder and how his brothers had beaten him. He'd told her the stories when they'd been alone in the dark, when his heart had been softened by her touch and she couldn't see his embarrassment. She'd held him after more bad dreams than he cared to recall.

Her eyes said she remembered, too. But her voice came out hard. “I understand the situation. Augustus is—”

“You mean Gus.”

“All right,” she said too amiably. “
Gus.
You're right about his name. You're also right about him being able to defend himself. I'll ask a man from church to talk to him.”

“Talking isn't enough.”

“It has to be.”

“It's not.” J.T. decided to take a chance. “Fighting is like kissing. You can talk all you want, but eventually you've got to do it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Judging by the sudden blush, she remembered their kisses as well as he did. He wanted to go farther down that road, but first he had to prove that Gus needed him. “Your brother's a good kid, but he's puny and he stutters.”

“I know that.”

“If he doesn't learn to fight, he's going be bullied his whole life. Is that what you want for him?”

“Of course not.”

Tense, she dropped down on the bench and pushed off. The chains began a steady, irksome squeak. “I know Gus needs help. I just don't think you're the one to teach him.”

“Sure I am.” He knew as much about fighting as anyone. “What are you worried about?”

Instead of the boldness he expected, he saw a guardedness that didn't fit Mary at all. In Abilene she'd spoken her mind freely. Today she looked nervous, even scared. He wondered why, but she wouldn't tell him even if he asked. He'd have to puzzle it out for himself. He lowered his arms, hiding the guns beneath the duster. “Do you think I'll teach Gus my bad habits?”

“Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”

“You don't have to worry, Mary.” She truly didn't. J.T. wanted Gus to be a good man, not a hired gun like him self.

She lifted her chin. “Considering how you left me, why should I trust you with my brother?”

“Because I've changed. I haven't had a drink in six months, and it's been so long since I gambled, I don't remember how.” Not exactly. He remembered, but he needed to make a point. “There's more. Do you want to hear it?”

“No.” She pushed to her feet. “It doesn't matter, because I don't want you in Gus's life. He's fragile. You'll hurt him.”

He touched her arm. “Are we talking about Gus or you?”

“Gus!”

“I don't think so.” She was close enough to kiss, and
her lips were trembling. She wasn't just angry with him. He'd opened old wounds and they were bleeding. “I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sorry I left you, sorry I…” He shook his head. He'd used her like he used liquor, and he owed her amends. “You deserve to know something else. I haven't been with a woman since I quit drinking.”

“J.T., don't—”

“Listen to me. Please.” His voice dropped to a hush. “Just one more time, Fancy Girl. I need to say this to you.”

A tremor passed from her arm to his hand. If she told him to leave, he'd do it. But he needed to make this confession. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. When she finally looked up, he saw a bleakness that troubled him, but she nodded yes. “All right. I'll listen.”

He indicated the swing. She sat, but her face had lost its color. Leaning against the railing, he dragged his hand through his hair. “I don't know where to start, exactly. Back in Abilene—”

“I don't want to talk about Abilene.” She sounded panicky and he wondered why. “Tell me about Fancy Girl. How did you find her?”

“It's more like she found me.” He told Mary about the mess at the Dudley place and how he'd made an enemy of Griff Lassen. Feeling both silly and proud, he glanced at his dog, then looked at Mary with an apologetic smile. “Imagine that…J. T. Quinn going soft over a dog.”

She said nothing, but her eyes said she could imagine it just fine.

The thought gave him hope. “That night I knew I had to find you. I went to Abilene, but no one knew where you'd gone.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I left in a hurry.”

“So I figured.”

“It's been a long time.”

The way she said it, he wondered if it would ever be long enough to forget the shame she'd endured. J.T. knew just how long—or short—a span of time could be. “It's been six months since I've tasted liquor.” He paused, because his next words were personal for them both. “Getting drunk hurts the man doing it. Using a woman hurts
her.
I know how that feels, because I sold my gun as surely as a prostitute sells her body. You weren't that kind of woman to me, Mary. I cared about you, but I hurt you just the same. I'm sorry.”

He wanted her forgiveness.

He needed it.

A bird twittered in a nearby tree. Laughter drifted from the crowd in the garden. Someone rang a dinner bell, startling them both. Silent as a lamb, he waited for her to speak. When she didn't say a word, he knew she'd send him away. She wouldn't let him near Gus, and neither would she believe him about Roy Desmond. If he told her about Roy now, he'd push her in the man's direction. Maybe he'd send her an unsigned letter from another town, or he could shove a note under her door. With everything lost and nothing else to give, he put on his hat, pulled it low and walked down the steps.

His boots thudded on the risers, then kicked up dust on the path. Fancy Girl followed him without being called, a consolation that eased the hurt but didn't erase it. As he lifted the latch on the gate, he heard the creak of the swing and Mary's footsteps hurrying down the path.

“Wait!” she called.

He turned and saw her running to him. She stopped a foot away, looking harried and confused and as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were shiny with tears, and her cheeks had turned from ashen to pink. Sunshine turned her hair
into gold, while the brightness cast their shadows side by side.

“I forgive you,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I forgave you a long time ago. It's just…” She bit her lip. “No one here knows every thing that happened in Abilene. After you left, people called me a loose woman. The gossip was awful. If it started here, I'd—” she shook her head “—I'll deal with it if I have to, but I worry about Gus and Gertie.”

He'd come to Denver to rescue her, not to make her life hard. “No one needs to know about our past. What's done is done.”

“Yes.”

Judging by her expression, she saw the flaw in his logic as plainly as he did. Their memories couldn't be erased. He knew how she felt in his arms. He'd laughed at her silly jokes and seen her wipe her nose when she had a cold. On the flipside of the coin, she knew him even better than he knew himself. He wanted that closeness again, though he knew he had to earn it. “I won't hurt you, Mary. I promise. I just want to help you.”

“It doesn't matter what you promise.” She clipped the words. “I don't trust you, J.T.”

“I understand.” And he did, perfectly. “I wouldn't trust me either just yet. But someday you will. It's up to me to change your mind.”

She looked peeved.

“We'll start with Gus.” He let his eyes twinkle as if they were in Abilene again. Though he had been ready to leave earlier, he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Mary again. “Does he like to fish? I could take him—”

She frowned. “We need some rules.”

“Sure.” He usually looked at rules as things to break. For Mary, he'd obey them. “What do you have in mind?”

She stood as straight as a measuring stick. “No cussing.”

“Agreed.” He wouldn't be accountable if he stubbed his toe, but he'd try. He didn't cuss much anyway.

“And spitting.” She wrinkled her nose. “I abhor spitting.”

He put his hand over his heart. “My dear Miss Larue, have you
ever
seen me spit in front of a lady?”

She blushed. “No, but I want to be clear.”

Feeling bold again, he clasped her arms to hold her in place. The gesture had come from the past and she stiffened, but he didn't regret it. He wanted her to feel his sincerity. “You can trust me, Mary.”

To seal the promise, he kissed her on the forehead. She could make all the rules she wanted, but he'd gotten what he'd wanted for six months. He had a chance to win her back. He also had a good reason to stay in Denver, where he could keep an eye on Roy Desmond.
And
he'd be able to prove himself by helping her brother.

He released his grip and stepped back. “I'll visit Gus tomorrow.”

“That's too soon.”

“Then Tuesday.” He didn't want to wait. He'd get bored, and boredom led to thoughts of liquor and cards.

Mary shook her head. “The café is busy that day. I close early on Wednesday. You can come for supper.”

He'd have three days to endure, but he nodded. “Wednesday it is.”

He stepped through the gate with Fancy Girl trotting at his heels and a smile playing on his lips. He liked the
idea of taking a boy fishing, so he decided to ride out of town to find a good spot. The buckskin wanted to run, and J.T. needed to burn off the rush in his blood. He and Mary had a long way to go, but today had been a good start.

 

Mary watched as J.T. pivoted the buckskin, tipped his hat and took off at a gallop with Fancy Girl barking for the fun of it. When he turned the corner, she let out the breath she'd been holding. The kiss had been a vow of sorts, an apology for the past and a promise to mind his manners, but it stirred memories of other kisses, the ones she'd given to him freely. This time J.T. had done the giving, and she didn't know what to think.

She stared down the empty street, wondering where he'd go and realizing he hadn't told her why he'd been near Swan's Nest. She wanted to know, but she wouldn't go looking for him now. She hated the thought of him in Denver, but even worse had been the guilt she'd felt when he'd walked away thinking she hadn't forgiven him. Whether she trusted him or not, she couldn't hold a grudge. His offer to help her brother had stunned her. She had no doubt he'd be good for Gus. In spite of the threat to her reputation, Mary couldn't deny her brother's need for a man in his life.

She needed to think about what she'd tell her friends, so she headed back to the swing and sat. Adie would respect her reluctance to talk, but Caroline would ask a hundred questions. People who saw her with J.T. would speculate, and the gossip would begin even if Mary said or did nothing. She massaged her temples.
Please, Lord. I need help.

“Mary?”

She looked up and saw Adie coming up the steps with two plates of food, one for Mary and the other presumably for J.T. Caroline stood behind her, looking both curious and kind. Mary managed a wry smile. “You found me.”

“Is everything all right?” Caroline sat next to her on the swing.

“I think so.”

Adie handed her a plate, set the other on the table and sat on the chair by the steps. “Where's Mr. Quinn?”

“He's gone.”

“For good?” Caroline asked.

“No, he's staying in Denver.” Mary trusted her friends, but secrets had a way of leaking into everyday conversation. She wouldn't dodge their questions, but neither would she tell the whole story. Uncovering the plate of chicken, she feigned a wry smile. “My past just caught up with me, I'm afraid.”

Caroline, an uncontrollable matchmaker, had a sparkle in her eyes. “Bessie said he's good-looking.”

“Oh, he is,” Mary said casually. “A woman knows J.T.'s in a room, but he's not likely to stay there.” She wanted to bite into the chicken to feign normalcy, but her stomach knotted. She set the plate on the table, looked at Adie and then Caroline. “I've never told anyone about J.T.”

Caroline touched her arm. “Did you love him?”

Yes! With everything in me. I was carrying his child. I wanted to marry him.
How foolish she'd been. How naive about men. Lowering her gaze, she whispered, “I thought I did.”