The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

  “Like what?”

  He took his gun from the holster, spun it fast and dropped it back in place. “Maybe he wants someone dead.”

  “J.T., no!”

  He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “We’ll talk after I see him, either tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Tonight,” she insisted. If Roy and J.T. tangled, she wanted to know about it. And if he had news on Gertie, she needed to hear that, too.

  “I better go,” he said. “I’ve got a little work left on the roof. Mind if I take Gus?”

  “I’ll get him.”

  Mary went up the stairs. She saw her brother sitting with Fancy Girl in a dark corner. Unless Mary missed her guess, the dog would have her puppies in a day or two.

  She spoke to Gus. “J.T.’s waiting for you. Tell him I’ll watch Fancy while you two work.”

  “O-okay.”

  Gus left in a hurry. Mary took an old blanket from under her bed and gave it to the dog for a nest. Rubbing Fancy Girl’s belly, she remembered her own few months of being with child. She didn’t feel ready to tell J.T. about the baby they’d lost, but Roy’s threat to expose the scandal put pressure on her. She also knew Roy would keep her secret as long as it gave him an advantage. She had time to decide, and she wanted to take it. She needed J.T.’s friendship too much to risk losing it.

  “What do you think?” she said to Fancy Girl. “Do you think he’ll understand?”

  The dog sighed, then closed her eyes. Mary had the same inclination.

  As J.T. approached the side door to the Newcastle Theater, he passed the scaffolding he’d climbed this afternoon while working on the roof with Gus. Moonlight lit up the planks where he’d stood with the boy, giving them the look of a ladder to the sky. He liked being high, but tonight he had to go low, as low as Roy Desmond.

  This afternoon he’d seen Gertie sashay into the theater. He’d also observed other actors as they’d come and gone, and they’d mocked her unmercifully. The girl didn’t have Mary’s talent. Roy needed Mary, which meant Gertie was bait. Like a worm on a hook, she’d be sacrificed in Roy’s quest to satisfy his investors. J.T. didn’t have the details, but he figured Roy had two options. He could pay the money he owed, or he could eliminate the threat of someone coming to collect it.

  Applause burst from the open windows of the theater. J.T. glanced up, then knocked on the side door. Roy opened it immediately, a sign he’d been waiting and didn’t want to be seen.

  “Come in, Quinn.”

  J.T. stepped into a long hall lit by six wooden sconces. In the distance he heard an actor’s booming voice and an answering rumble of laughter. He wondered if Gertie was backstage or in the audience, and if she’d come to the theater alone or with Katrina. Roy opened the door to his office, a square room with a massive desk, a sideboard set with crystal and whiskey and a divan upholstered in red velvet. He indicated the divan. “Have a seat.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Whiskey?”

  The liquor didn’t tempt him at all. “Not tonight.”

  Roy poured a glass for himself. “I guess the rumors are true.”

  “What rumors?”

  “That you’ve gotten soft.”

  If J.T. lost his reputation, he’d be an easy target for any young buck wanting to prove himself. The thought shook him up, but he put the reaction aside. He had to focus on Mary and Gertie. “What do you want, Roy?”

  “I have an offer for you.” Seated behind the desk, Roy swirled the whiskey and downed the contents. Men drank for a lot of reasons, including for courage. Something had put Roy on edge. If the right person was making the man nervous, J.T. would have an ally.

  Roy set down the glass with a thud. “You don’t like me, Quinn. And you don’t want Mary Larue singing in my theater.”

  “That’s right.”

  “She doesn’t want her baby sister here, either.”

  “Right again.”

  “I propose a trade.” He steepled his fingers over his chest, tapping them in a rhythm meant to make J.T. nervous.

  It wouldn’t work, because J.T. refused to let it. “I’ve been working all day, Roy. Say your piece or I’m gone.”

  “You won’t leave.”

  “And you don’t want me to. Get on with it.”

  “All right.” He leaned forward. “I told you I have investors. That’s not exactly true.”

  “I figured.”

  “I won a considerable amount of money playing poker on Mississippi riverboats. I figured I could go legitimate.” The man looked pale. “I’m not getting any younger, and I like the idea of settling down, even taking a wife.”

  J.T. had had similar thoughts.

  “Contrary to what you think,” Roy continued. “I’m very fond of Mary Larue.”

  “So am I. “

  “I figured that out. Don’t worry, Quinn. You can have her.”

  J.T. felt no relief. The man still had a hold on Gertie. “What do you want?”

  “I need someone to do a job for me.”

  He had no desire to do Roy’s dirty work, but he liked the idea of negotiating to keep him away from Gertie, maybe for the money to send her to New York. “What kind of job?”

  “The kind that requires your particular talent. The men who lost to me on that riverboat didn’t do it graciously. They said I cheated.”

  “Did you?”

  “Maybe.”

  Of course he’d cheated. J.T. had seen Roy do it in Dodge. He wasn’t a good enough gambler to earn enough to invest in a high-class theater. No man liked being cheated. A rich one had the power to seek revenge, sometimes by hiring a man like J.T. to do the job. “What do you want from me?”

  “Someone’s looking for me, and he’s in Denver. I got wind of it from one of my actors. The fellow’s a hired gun like yourself.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Griff Lassen.”

  J.T. could have lived the rest of his life without seeing Griff. He weighed the odds of the man already knowing he was in Denver and decided it wasn’t likely. J.T. had spent less than two hours in a single gaming hall. Otherwise he’d been pounding nails at a church and washing dishes. Griff wouldn’t find him easily, but the possibility had to be considered.

  “I know Griff,” he said to Roy.

  “He’s a mean one.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Roy got up and poured more whiskey. “If you kill Lassen, I’ll pay you well.”

  J.T.’s conscience twitched, but not because of Lassen. The man deserved to die. Not only had he wanted to kill a dog, J.T. had seen him torment an expecting woman until J.T. stopped him. Lassen had no scruples, but J.T. had acquired some of his own. What would Mary think if he took this job? He’d demand enough from Roy to get Gertie to New York, but he doubted she’d take the money.

  On the other hand, who could object to letting two scorpions sting each other? If J.T. did nothing, Griff would take care of Roy. The theater manager would end up dead with no help from J.T. He’d have to stay low until Lassen did the dirty work, and he’d have to keep a close eye on Mary and Gertie, but the idea had merit. In no way did it violate Mary’s beliefs. The longer he waited to give Roy an answer, the more time Lassen had to do his job.

  J.T. stood. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I want an answer tonight.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Roy hesitated, then nodded because he had no choice. “Tomorrow it is, but know this, Quinn. If you don’t do what I’m asking, Gertie Larue is going to find out more about men than she’s ready to know.”

  “Are you threatening—”

  “You bet I am.” He looked as filthy as his thoughts. “The girl’s worthless to me. I might as well get some use out of her.”

  J.T. wanted to beat Roy to a pulp. Turn the other cheek to a man who’d abuse a young girl? No way. Seething inside, he blanked his expression. “I’ll give you an answer when I’m ready.”

  Roy gave him a critical look. “I hope it’s not true
about you.”

  “What?”

  “That you’ve lost your edge.”

  “I haven’t.” Keeping his eyes on Roy, he left the office. Satisfied the man wouldn’t try something, he turned down the hall and left the theater.

  In the shadow of the church, he considered Roy’s claim that he’d lost his edge. He hadn’t fired at anything more threatening than a tin can in six months. Suddenly jittery, he headed for the café. With his boots thudding, he thought about Mary and how she’d trusted him with Gus and Gertie, and how she believed there was good in him. Here he was, a cynical man charged with protecting Mary and her family. He had no interest in a God who ignored boys in alleys, but he could respect a God who cared about good women and kids who stammered, foolish girls and dogs having puppies. It was almost enough to make him grab the same branch Mary had grabbed when she’d come to Denver.

  As he neared the apartment, he saw her in the upstairs window. She dropped the curtain and disappeared into the dark. Before he reached the steps, she flung open the door. “Hurry, J.T.! It’s Fancy Girl. The pups are coming, and she’s in trouble.”

  J.T. bolted up the steps. If God cared, he had a terrible way of showing it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  J.T. hurried to Fancy Girl and dropped to his knees. He examined her with his eyes but didn’t touch her. “How long has she been laboring?”

  “Too long.”

  She told him about the past five hours. Fancy had gone into labor in the later afternoon, and she’d been panting and tense without giving birth. Looking into the dog’s eyes, he saw the glaze of pain. Did dogs fear death? He didn’t know, but he deeply feared losing her.

  Mary took his hand. “I sent Gus to fetch Bessie.”

  J.T. rubbed Fancy’s ears, crooning to her until his voice cracked. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and carry her to someplace bright and safe. Instead he watched as she panted with another contraction. When it passed, she raised her head to him and whined. Fancy never whined.

  Mary put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m praying, J.T. It’s all I can do.”

  Needing to give comfort as well as receive it, he cradled Mary’s head against his chest. They were like two birds huddled against the cold, lifelong mates sharing warmth and hope and the love he was tired of holding back. Together they dropped to a sitting position. Staying close to him, Mary rested her palm on Fancy’s belly.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” she pleaded. “Push those puppies out.”

  J.T. would have given anything to command the dog to give birth the way he told her to sit. A hand signal, a few words. But he didn’t have that ability. He could take a life, but he couldn’t order the puppies to be born. Looking at Fancy, her belly tensing as she panted and suddenly pushed, J.T. felt a jolt of understanding. The puppies would emerge from darkness into light. He was making a similar journey and fighting every step just as they were. Why would he stay in the dark when the light was just a breath away?

  The puppies had no idea what goodness awaited them. Their mother’s milk would nourish them. Fancy would lick them clean with her rough tongue. In a few weeks they’d be tumbling all over each other, and one special pup would belong to Gus and be loved more than it could imagine. J.T. wanted these puppies to be born. He wanted to born again, in much the same way.

  Tears leaked from his eyes. “Please, God,” he murmured. “Help my dog…. Help me.”

  Mary gripped his hand…his shooting hand. She squeezed so hard she nearly broke the fingers, and he didn’t care if she broke them all. He touched Fancy’s belly and felt a contraction. The dog stopped panting and started to push. She pushed and pushed…until life emerged from the darkness of her womb into the light. At the sight of the sac holding the puppy, J.T. couldn’t move. Fancy turned and licked, breaking the covering and then licking the puppy until it breathed. He started sobbing like a baby, and he didn’t care.

  With Mary next to him, he watched as Fancy gave birth to four more pups for a total of five. Three of them had her blond coloring. The other two were black and white. Wondering about the father, he thought of his talk with Gus about babies. A man had responsibilities to a woman, but dogs would be dogs.

  “Are there more?” he asked Mary.

  “I think she’s done.”

  They sat side by side, sharing the miracle while J.T. got a hold of his emotions. Finally, he said, “Something amazing just happened.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t mean just the puppies,” he said in a hush. “I prayed to your God and He listened. I guess that makes Him my God, too.”

  Breathing softly, she put her palm on his jaw and turned his face to hers. He felt the warmth against his day-old whiskers. When she spoke, her voice quavered. “I’m happy for you.”

  “I love you, Mary.”

  He wanted to hear the words back. Instead she sealed her lips. He’d never needed to be loved before, but tonight he needed her. She pressed her fingers tight against his jaw. In return he matched his mouth to hers. They’d kissed before, but it hadn’t been like this. He desired her as a woman, yes. But tonight he wanted to belong to her…. He wanted to marry her. The commitment scared him, but not as much as losing her.

  Full of hope, he deepened the kiss. To his dismay, Mary pulled back. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Say you love me. Say you trust me. Instead, she seemed troubled. Hadn’t he just crossed the last hurdle between them? At the stream, he’d earned back her trust. Tonight he’d embraced her faith. What more did he need to do? He didn’t understand. “What’s wrong?”

  She stared at Fancy, sleeping now with the puppies tight against her belly. “This has been quite a night.”

  If she needed to beat around the bush, he’d wait for her. “Yeah.”

  “Fancy’s a mother.” Her eyes took on a curious light. “I wonder who the father is.”

  “Just some mutt.” The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit. “It doesn’t matter. The puppies belong to Fancy.”

  She rubbed the dog’s neck. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “She does all the work, and the father gets off scot-free.” She looked at him. “Do you think that’s right?”

  “It is for dogs.”

  He was more confused than ever. What did dogs and puppies have to do with them?

  Mary opened her mouth to say something else, but Gus burst into the apartment. “H-how is she?”

  “She’s fine.” Mary pushed to her feet, stepping away when he wanted to have his arm around her.

  Feeling slighted, he stood next to her but kept his hands loose. Bessie came through the door behind Gus, followed by Josh and Adie. J.T. hadn’t heard the carriage, and he counted it as a mistake. Was Roy right? Had he lost his edge? The night had been full of changes, and he’d hadn’t even told Mary about his talk with Roy.

  She stepped away from him to make room for Bessie. “Fancy had the puppies on her own. I think everything’s fine.”

  The nurse smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Adie congratulated J.T. as if he were a father and then joined the women. They started talking about Fancy, with Bessie asking questions about medical things that J.T. did not want to hear about. Josh looked just as pinched. Gus stayed with them, clearly counting himself as one of the men. J.T. clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting Bessie.”

  “When I went to g-get her, I s-s-saw those b-boys.”

  He meant the bullies. “What happened?” J.T. asked.

  “The b-b-big one told me to stop, but I k-kept running. If they’d followed me, I’d have f-fought them all.”

  Ten minutes ago J.T. had cried out to God for mercy. Now here was Gus, stammering and afraid. Had anything really changed tonight? Suddenly solemn, the boy studied the five puppies. “I—I want one that looks like F-Fancy.”

  Josh glanced at J.T. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

  “That it is, Reverend.”

  The
minister raised an eyebrow. “You said reverend like you meant it.”

  “I do.” J.T. turned to Gus. “Keep an eye on her, okay? I need a word with Josh.”

  Heading for the door, J.T. caught Mary’s attention. “I’ll be back. Then we’ll talk about Gertie.”

  “All right.”

  She sounded guarded, and he wanted to know why. He’d told her he loved her, and she hadn’t said it back. He didn’t understand her reaction at all. He wanted to throw everyone out of the apartment and talk to her, but he had business with Josh—both personal and professional. He followed the minister down the stairs. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Josh sat on the third one up while J.T. roamed to the street, looked up and down out of habit, then faced the minister. “My dog almost died tonight.”

  “I hear it was close.”

  “Too close. I’ve seen death.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I prayed.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t understand why, but God was merciful. I’m done fighting Him. What do I have to do?”

  Josh stood and bowed his head. J.T. had never bent his neck to anyone, but he did tonight. In a conversational tone, the minister asked God to forgive J.T. of his sins and to welcome him into the Kingdom. When Josh said “Amen,” J.T. echoed him. He didn’t feel anything new, but he understood that he’d made a decision that mattered. As long as God didn’t get in his way. J.T. figured they’d get along just fine.

  The minister stepped back. “I feel compelled to warn you about something.”

  “What?”

  “Becoming a Christian is like lighting a stick of dynamite. If the fuse doesn’t fizzle out, it goes off with a bang.”

  J.T. didn’t care about dynamite. He had business with Roy, and he wanted Josh’s help. “The bang I want most is one that’ll get rid of Roy Desmond.”

  Josh’s eyes glinted. “What’s new with Gertie?”

  J.T. described his meeting with Roy. “With Griff Lassen in the picture, there’s been a shift in what Roy wants. Instead of getting Mary to sing and earn him a pile of money, he wants me to take care of Lassen. If I do his dirty work, he’ll leave Gertie alone.”