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He stood. “I believe there was a mention of payment.”
She jumped up to block his path again if need be. “Free room and board.”
He cocked his head and took a step closer. “For how long?”
“As long as you need it,” she said, backing up a step.
He took another step closer and again, she backed up. Once more and she’d be up against the door.
His gaze roved over her. “And in return I just have to forfeit my virtue?”
She sucked in a breath, heat burning her cheeks. “Of course not! I’m only proposing a pretend engagement. Temporary. Just until Josiah gets it through his thick head that I’m not going to marry him or sell my land.”
Gray’s eyebrow quirked up again. “Seems like you’re gettin’ the lion’s share of this little deal.”
Mercy shrugged this time. “You’re getting what you’ve said you want.”
“True.” He contemplated her a few more moments. “Fine. Deal.”
She broke into a grin, relief and excitement shooting through her.
Gray turned and dropped back into his chair. He sighed deeply, every inch of him exuding weariness. “I’ll stay, but don’t expect me to be doin’ any chores around this place or goin’ after Josiah or the sheriff. I’m not lookin’ to cause any trouble.”
She nodded, hoping that if it came down to it, he wouldn’t be as averse to helping her as he seemed to be right now. Surely, he wouldn’t stand by and watch if she were in real peril.
One more thing was troubling her, though. She didn’t want to bring it up, seeing as how he’d finally agreed to help and all…but…
“I just have one…I mean I just need to know…how many…”
Gray’s amusement faded. “Yes?”
He was really going to make her ask? Fine. “How many men have you killed?”
His eyes shuttered and he sat back, his lips tight. “None that weren’t tryin’ to kill me first.”
She cocked her head. “Is that typical for famous gunfighters? I assumed men like you were always out looking for trouble.”
Gray shrugged and frowned. “I don’t know what’s typical. I just know me.”
“And you don’t know how many men you’ve killed?”
“Never cared to keep count.”
Well, that wasn’t ideal. But then again, it wasn’t his past that she worried about. It was his future intentions. “Planning on killing any more?”
Gray shrugged again. “Never planned on killing any of them. But if you’re wonderin’ if I plan on riding into town, looking for a fight, it won’t happen. I’m retired.”
“Retired?” she said, eyes wide in evident disbelief. “Never heard of a retired gunfighter before.”
He raised an eyebrow again, and she blanched at the foolish remark. Of course she hadn’t heard of a retired gunfighter before. Because they didn’t retire, did they? At least not willingly. They just got killed. The fact that he was sitting there, into his forties if he was a day, meant he really was as good as the stories about him. Despite all appearances to the contrary.
“As I’ve said, Miss Douglas, all I want is a comfortable chair to nap in and a little peace and quiet. And regular meals wouldn’t be amiss, either. You provide me with that, I’ll go along with your little scheme, assuming it doesn’t require anything on my part but my presence.”
She nodded and stood. “Well, then, Mr. Woodson—”
“Gray.”
She paused for half a second before nodding again. “Gray.”
