The Outlaw's Return

“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?”