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
