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Jed shook his head, and relief washed over Gray.
“They’re alive. But injured. The men beat the hell out of them. And Banff’s had them tied up all night. He’s coming here and he’s gathering everyone up. He’ll have at least a dozen men with him, plus Mr. Sunshine and the reverend as his hostages. I’ve never seen him so angry as when they told him he was under arrest. I don’t know exactly what he’s planning,” he said to Gray, “but he’s mad enough that he might try anything.”
Gray nodded slowly. “Then we’ll just have to be ready for him.”
Jed nodded and leaned back against the railing. His breaths were coming easier, though he still dragged in huge lungfuls of air with each one.
Gray’s mind worked furiously, discarding one thought after another. He’d never had to come up with anything too elaborate before. People either steered clear of him or came at him one-on-one. And so far, he’d always been the one to walk away.
But that wasn’t going to work this time. Banff would never have the guts to face him one-on-one. And Gray was fast, but even he probably couldn’t take down a dozen men before someone got a lucky enough shot. Plus, they had hostages. Men Gray didn’t want harmed.
He sighed. He’d enjoyed having friends more than he thought he would, but life, or at least to-the-death fights, was a little easier when his opponent didn’t have so much leverage against him.
His gaze jerked to the General Store. Mercy. She had to be kept away from the coming fight at all costs. What were the chances she’d forgive him if he locked her in one of the cells until it was all over?
Well, standing around making his head hurt with all the thinking wasn’t solving anything.
“Jed, run across to Mrs. DuVere and send her—”
“I’m already here, Sheriff. What’s going on?” he heard Mrs. DuVere say.
Gray glanced up in surprise, his mouth open to question how the hell she’d known—
“Samuel is still gone, and poor Jed here looks like he’s about to pass out. I put two and two together.”
Gray shook his head, gracing her with a small smile. “Your arithmetic skills are truly remarkable, Mrs. DuVere.”
She waved him off, though the smile she gave him was pleased. He filled her in as quickly as he could. “I need you to spread the word to the townsfolk to stay in their homes…”
She was already shaking her head. “We told you last night, Sheriff. You belong to this town, and we take care of our own. If there’s a fight coming, then we’ll be behind you all the way.”
Gray swallowed against the sudden lump in his gullet. “I appreciate that,” he said, pausing to clear his throat, “but the last thing I want is to give Banff and his men more targets. If”—he held up a hand to stop her argument—“there are men who are armed, who know how to use their weapons, and who understand the dangers and are skilled enough to not become targets themselves, then…I would appreciate the help.”
That had been more difficult to say than he’d thought. But if he was going to be a part of this community, then he needed to start accepting all that went with it.
To a point.
“However,” he said, and Mrs. DuVere turned back to him, eyebrows raised in question. “That does not extend to my wife. I don’t know how you’ll manage, but do what you can to keep her indoors, away from any windows, and well away from any danger. If you can figure out a way to lock her in a closet somewhere, I’d be most obliged.”
Mrs. DuVere laughed. “Oh, honey, we both know the chances of that happening are pretty slim.”
He sighed deeply. “Just…try. Tell her she has more than just me to think about now.”
She nodded and walked away.
Gray rubbed a hand over his face and then glanced at Doc. “You still got that gun, Doc?”
Doc nodded grimly, and Gray pursed his lips. “Then let’s gather who we can and get our men back.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Mercy paced the parlor at Mrs. DuVere’s, trying to calm herself. But every time she thought of Gray marching out to meet Josiah while she was hiding behind the drapes—she couldn’t keep still. Part of her wanted to run out into that street and throw herself in front of her husband. The other part couldn’t forget the fact that it was no longer just herself she’d be putting in harm’s way if she did.
“If you don’t sit down soon, you’re going to wear a hole in my carpet,” Mrs. DuVere said.
Mercy flounced onto the sofa with a huff. “I don’t know how you can keep so calm. I know you’re worried about the reverend.”
Mrs. DuVere nodded. “Yes. I am. But making myself sick with it isn’t going to help anyone. He’s not even here yet. Once he is…well…” She stood and went to a cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a heavy, polished shotgun. “I reckon I can pick off a man or two if necessary.”
