The Outlaw's Return

by Victoria Bylin

  His gaze slid to his gun belt. He looked at the Colt for several minutes, then he stretched his arm and curled his fingers around the ivory handle. He slid the pistol from the holster, pulled it to his side and closed his eyes. He imagined the gun barrel in his mouth. It would taste like metal and gun oil, smoke and traces of sulfur. He knew exactly how far to cock the hammer, how gently to pull the trigger for a clean, quick shot.

  He opened his eyes wide and stared at the patch of sky, refusing to blink as the blue vanished behind a cloud. Instead of blocking the sun, the cloud made it brighter. He recalled standing on the roof of the church and how he’d longed to take off his guns. He remembered Fancy giving birth, how he’d cried out and how God had answered. And he remembered praying with Josh and calling God by name.

  “I don’t know how you can stand me, Lord Jesus,” J.T. said to the cloud. “You know how weak I am, how stubborn and stupid. You saved Fancy Girl, and I turned my back on You. You gave Mary to me, and I walked out on her. And Gus—” He thought of the boy standing up to him. “I walked out on him, too.”

  J.T. tried to swallow but couldn’t. There was nothing left in him, not even a drop of spit. He licked his lips, felt the dryness and spoke again to the unreachable sky.

  “I don’t deserve another chance, Lord. But I’m begging You to be good to Mary. I love her and I let her down. Keep her safe. And Gus—” he could barely speak. “Help him grow into a good man, a better man than me. And for Gertie, heal her nose and help her to grow up.” He thought next of Fancy Girl. “Fancy’s just a dog, but I love her. Make sure she has lots of bones and someone to scratch her.”

  He took comfort in knowing Mary would give his dog a good home. She’d always had a heart for strays. He thought of the way she loved him when he didn’t deserve it and how she saw the good in him when there wasn’t any. He took a final breath. “Spare Mary the pain of missing me, Lord. I have so many regrets—” He choked on his dry tongue. “I wish—I wish I’d trusted You.”

  Trust Him now.

  The thought was in his head, but it seemed as loud as thunder. He thought of the hot bench, vengeance, darkness and turning the other cheek. He thought of Gus, boys eating hotcakes, puppies being born and Gertie running home to her family. Mostly he thought of Mary and the baby they’d lost, how much he loved her and how she’d forgiven him.

  J.T. had asked God to show Himself, and He had. He was showing Himself now in a shaft of light that pierced the dark of this living grave. J.T. had taken fourteen lives. He’d hurt the people he loved. He’d done terrible things, yet the light had found him in the darkness, and he knew the light to be love. It pinned him to the ground and on his back. He couldn’t fight and he didn’t want to try. The light warmed him to the bones. It comforted him and promised hope. He felt the mercy of it on his face and knew he’d lost this final battle. He had no right to take another life, not even his own. Defeated by love, he shoved the gun out of reach.

  He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer. He felt a tear on his cheek, except it wasn’t warm. Another one trickled toward his ear. His eyelids flew open and he looked at the sky. Instead of a burning white mist, he saw the gray bottom of a thunderhead. A drop of water hit his cheek, then another…and another. Rain…blessed rain was falling from the sky.

  Bolting upright, he stared at the sheen of water mixing with silvery light. Thunder rolled down the shaft. He blinked and the mist turned into a torrent of rain. Laughing crazily, he tipped his face upward and opened his mouth. He tasted the water on his tongue, felt the moisture on his lips and cheeks. The water was coming in buckets, running down the sides of the shaft and making puddles the size of wagon wheels. When he’d drunk his fill, he grabbed his hat and held it to catch a supply for later. He wouldn’t die today and probably not tomorrow. He didn’t know when he’d die, but he wouldn’t die alone. God had shown Himself yet again, and J.T. wouldn’t ever forget.

  He pushed to his knees and lifted his face to the sky, feeling the rain on his skin as it washed him clean. With the storm raging and night approaching, he raised his arms and rejoiced.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  On the morning of the third day, Mary closed the café after breakfast, borrowed a buggy from Adie and Josh and drove to J.T.’s boardinghouse. Desperate for a clue, she wanted to see the empty room for herself. No matter what she found, today she’d resume her search.

  At the boardinghouse she asked the landlady to show her J.T.’s room. As the woman led her down the hall, Mary realized that not once had she seen where J.T. lived. In Abilene, he’d come to her. He’d had a room in the same hotel, but he’d never invited her inside.

  “This is it,” the landlady said.

  Stepping into the room, Mary saw a wool blanket on the narrow bed, a mirror that had been wiped clean and a little book on the nightstand. She picked it up and recognized one of the chapbooks Josh sometimes gave to visitors. He’d given it to J.T., but J.T. had left it behind. It held no clues to his whereabouts, but its presence signaled he’d gone back to his old ways.

  With her heart breaking, she surveyed the room and saw nothing except a few sheets of paper on a desk. On top of the stack sat a pencil. It was thick and round…and dull. Someone had used it. She crossed the room in four steps, lifted the top sheet of paper to the window and saw indentations. Most of the marks were faint, but she could make out a D and Gus. The rest of the words were fragments, but she recognized horse, sister, man and Fancy.

  J.T. had written the note, but it hadn’t been delivered. Something terrible had happened to him, she felt sure of it. Only one man could answer her questions, and that was Roy Desmond. She wanted to race to the theater and make him talk, but what threat did she pose? She needed help, and she needed it now. She thanked the landlady, climbed into the buggy and snapped the reins. The church was closer than the sheriff’s office, so she went to find Josh. She reached the building in minutes. When she didn’t see the minister, she called to one of the workers. “I need help. Where’s Josh?”

  “He went to buy paint.”

  Mary needed him now. She could almost hear J.T. calling her name. Surely she wouldn’t feel such hope if he were dead. Her gaze shifted to the Newcastle Theater. She didn’t dare go inside alone. She’d be putting herself in danger, and the risk would dishonor J.T. and his promise to protect her. She considered going for Deputy Morgan, but Josh would be back any minute.

  Nervously she studied the theater. The new side door was ajar, as if someone had entered but not closed it for fear of being heard. She turned to the street, saw J.T.’s buckskin and gasped. She’d found him, but he was finally going after Roy. She had to stop him before he committed murder.

  She leapt out of the buggy and ran through the door. The carpet muffled her steps, but a single gunshot shattered the silence. Terrified, she pressed herself against the wall. Had J.T. shot Roy? Or had Roy killed J.T.? She knew better than to go alone into Roy’s office, but how could she wait? The man she loved could be dying this very minute.

  With her heart pounding, she edged down the hall to the office. Trembling, she peeked around the corner and saw Roy facedown on his desk, blood pooling around his thinning hair and soaking into the blotter. She hated Roy for what he’d done to Gertie, but she couldn’t abide shooting an unarmed man. Behind the desk she saw a wall safe left open and empty, an indication that J.T. had taken all the money. It seemed he’d returned fully to his old ways. She couldn’t overlook the violence or the thievery. He’d have to pay for what he’d done, but she still loved him. He needed her more than ever, so she raced into the hall. She hadn’t seen him leave through the side door, so she headed for the belly of theater.

  “J.T.!” she shouted. “Talk to me.”

  As she rounded a corner, she glimpsed the shadow of a man turning down a hall. She charged after him, but he’d vanished down another corridor. Approaching slowly, she spoke in the low tones she’d use with a child. “I love you, Jonah. We’ll go to the law together.” />
  Snide laughter filled the hallway. J.T. never laughed like that. Confused, she stopped in midstep. She’d seen his horse in front of the theater. Who else could be in the hall? Before she could turn and run, a one-eyed man came around the corner with his gun aimed at her chest.

  He cocked the hammer. “Take another step and I’ll shoot you, too.”

  “You’re not J.T.!”

  “He’s dead.”

  “He can’t be.” She could barely breathe.

  “He’s dead, all right.” The man grinned. “If a bullet didn’t kill him, the fall did.”

  “What are you talking about?” She had to know. Where was he? What had happened?

  Lassen looked her up and down. “I got what I wanted. Quinn’s dead and Desmond paid his debt. You’re a pretty woman. If you want Quinn’s body, you can have it.”

  No! No! No! She couldn’t stand the thought of J.T. being gone. She hadn’t told him she loved him. Gus needed him, and so did Fancy Girl. “Where is he?”

  “At the bottom of the Slewfoot Mine.” With a sly grin, he started to raise his gun. Knowing she’d become a witness who could identify this man, she turned and fled back into the theater.

  She ran out the front door and hurried to the buggy, scanning the church for Josh. She didn’t see him, but she spotted Deputy Morgan talking to Brick. She ran up to him, told him about Lassen and where she was going. Unwilling to wait another minute, she jumped into the buggy and drove as fast as she dared to the Slewfoot Mine.

  J.T.’s third day in the mine dawned just like the second. When fear nipped at him, he looked at the sky and thought of Mary. He didn’t know the words to the hymn she’d sung in church, but he remembered the tune and he hummed it now. If this hole in the ground turned into his grave, he’d die with the promise of loving her for eternity.

  He dozed until the sun shined directly over the air shaft. In the silence he imagined Mary singing. He could hear her voice in his head, softly calling his name. Maybe God had sent an angel to fetch him up to the clouds. The cry grew louder, then louder still. His eyes flew open and he bolted to his feet. God hadn’t sent an angel to take him to Heaven. He’d sent the woman he loved to take him home.

  “J.T.!” she shouted again. The rig rattled to a stop.

  “I’m down here,” he shouted. “Stay back! The ground’s not stable.”

  “You’re alive!”

  He could hardly wait to hold her in his arms. If she’d come in the buggy, there’d be a few tools under the seat. “Do you have a rope?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  With rescue just minutes away, J.T. took a last look around the mine. He saw his gun belt in the shadows and the Colt Navy lying next to it. The old J.T. had died in this place. The new one didn’t want that gun to ever fill his hand again. It seemed a fitting end to a life he no longer wanted. He could only hope Mary would be a part of the new one. He had nothing to offer—no job, no money—but he loved her. He wanted to give her another child. To Gus he’d be a big brother, and for Gertie he’d be a pain in the neck to every man who came calling. Fancy would get an extra bone tonight, and he’d give her the longest scratch she’d ever had. He could hardly wait to see them all.

  Mary finally called from the surface. “I’ve got the rope.”

  “Tie it off to the buggy and throw it down. But whatever you do, don’t get too close.”

  “I won’t.”

  He waited with his eyes on the sky, watching until she shouted, “Here it comes.”

  A coil of rope spiraled into the mine. He made a loop, hooked it under his arms and held on tight with his good hand. “My shoulder’s hurt,” he called to her. “The horse is going to have to do the work.”

  “We’ll go slow,” she answered.

  The rope tightened around his chest, then lifted him to his toes and finally into the air. He used his legs to walk up the wall, being careful not to bang his bad side against the shaft. As the light intensified, the pain faded and he squinted in the brightness. He had ten feet to go, then five. He smelled dust and hot air and finally grass as the horse dragged him over the rim of the hole. The ground crumbled but only slightly. With the horse still pulling, J.T. waited until he was ten feet from danger before rolling to his back. Squinting because of the brightness, he took pleasure in the sunshine on his face. He heard footsteps and smelled cotton and rose-scented soap. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mary on her knees with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “You’re alive,” she murmured. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Me, too.” He cupped her face. “How’d you find me?”

  She told him about Lassen and Roy. The two scorpions had stung each other as J.T. had hoped, but he recoiled at the thought of Mary in harm’s way and Lassen being on the loose. It troubled him until she told she’d seen Deputy Morgan at the church. “I told him Lassen was in the theater.”

  J.T. thought about his horse and the money. Maybe he’d get them back. “Morgan’ll go after him.”

  Mary took a hankie from her pocket and wiped his brow. “You’re a mess,” she said, scolding him. “What happened?”

  “Lassen left me to die.” He sat up and told her about Roy tricking him, the gunfight, the fall and the rain that had made him a new man. He didn’t mention the Colt and how he’d nearly used it, only that he’d left it behind. “Lassen got what he wanted.” He cradled Mary’s hand in his. “J. T. Quinn is dead and gone. From now on, I’m Jonah Taylor.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I love you, Jonah.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She deserved far more than he had to give, but he’d already wasted too much time. He held Mary’s hand in his, lifting it as he looked into her eyes. “I spent three days thinking I’d never see you again. I don’t have much to offer, but whatever I have and whoever I am, I’d be honored if you’d be my wife.”

  She didn’t say yes.

  And she didn’t say no.

  Instead she kissed him full on the lips. It lasted so long that he started to laugh. “So you like that idea?”

  “I do,” she said. “But I have a condition of my own.”

  She could have anything she wanted. If she needed a dishwasher, he was the man for the job. If she needed a friend, he’d be there. He’d be her protector, her lover, the father of her children and the man who sometimes annoyed her, because he’d always be a bit of a scoundrel. He hardened his expression but just a little. “What’s the condition?”

  “I need a partner to help run the café.” Her cheeks turned rosy. “What do you think of hiring someone else to wash dishes? Maybe one of the boys you impressed for Gus?”

  “I like that idea.”

  “You can learn to cook.” She looked pleased. “And someone has to fix things and paint the walls now and then. The chairs take a terrible beating. They get wobbly and—”

  He stopped her with a kiss. “You know what else I want to do?”

  She must have seen the shine in his eyes, because she blushed pinker than a rose. “What?”

  “I want to have a baby with you.” It wouldn’t replace the child she’d lost, but he’d be glad to do what he could.

  Mary blushed again. “I’d like that.”

  With the sun bright and the sky full of clouds, Jonah Taylor took his wife-to-be in his arms. His shoulder hurt, but that didn’t stop him from kissing her the way he wanted. In that shining moment, he thought of his challenge to God to show Himself. J. T. Quinn had finally seen the light, and it was bright indeed.

  Epilogue

  August 1876

  Swan’s Nest

  Mary and Jonah spoke their marriage vows on Sunday morning at Brick’s saloon. Gertie stood up with Mary, swollen nose and all, and Gus stood with Jonah. Because she was part of their family, Fancy Girl joined them at the front of the church. In place of the bandanna she usually wore, Adie tied a pink ribbon around the dog’s neck. Josh did the honors and then invited everyone to Swan’s Nest to celebrate.

&nbs
p; That’s where they were now, surrounded by friends and family as Mary climbed the steps to toss the bouquet. A year ago Adie had done the honors, and Pearl had caught the flowers. She was here today with her husband and their two children, and earlier she’d told Mary she was expecting a baby in time for Christmas.

  When Pearl’s turn had come to throw the flowers at her own wedding nine months ago, she’d aimed them straight at Mary. Mary had nearly thrown them back, but today she felt only joy as she looked at her husband. Dressed in a new black suit and crisp white shirt, he was waiting not-so-patiently for the festivities to end. As soon as she tossed the flowers, they’d leave for the elegant hotel where he’d booked the bridal suite. Thanks to Deputy Morgan, Griff Lassen was in jail and Jonah had gotten his horse and money back. Yesterday he’d put the finishing touches on the bell tower, and he and Gus had tested the bell.

  Mary was ready to leave the celebration, but she had to make sure Caroline caught the bouquet. She spotted Bessie, but she didn’t see Caroline anywhere. She refused to throw the flowers to anyone else. Mary looked again at J.T. He mostly went by Jonah now, but she’d always love the scoundrel who’d first made her blush. He lifted his eyebrows as if to say, “What’s taking so long?”

  “I need Caroline,” she called to him.

  He nodded once, went to the kitchen and guided an unwilling Caroline into the crowd of women. Before she could protest, Mary walked up to her and put the flowers in her arms. The women applauded and hugged her, but Caroline barely smiled. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?” Mary asked.

  “It’s time I faced facts. I’ll never marry again.”