The Outlaw's Return

“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.

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.

Chapter Six

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.”