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A glint of the sun off metal drew Gray’s eye to the roof of the general store. Martha crouched low behind the chimney stack, a rifle in her hand. Movement farther along the roof meant someone else was up there with her. Probably one or both of her grandparents. Either way, he had a set of eyes and at least one weapon trained on the men below. That they didn’t know about.
The tightness in his chest eased a fraction. Enough so he could breathe. Think. He looked back at Josiah and hoped his face didn’t betray the turmoil that was going on beneath the surface.
“I don’t think there is anything to arrange, Banff. Other than your surrender, that is. I believe a white flag is usually involved. I have a handkerchief if you’d like to borrow it.” He patted at his chest before pulling it from a pocket, grimacing a little. “It’s not completely clean, but it’ll do.”
He waved it at Josiah, who growled, his cheeks flushing red with anger. “You need to keep that yapping mouth of yours shut!” he spat out. “Keep it up and we’ll be arranging your funeral instead of your immediate departure from town.”
Gray raised his brows. “You’d arrange a funeral for me? That’s awful nice of you. I’d like daisies, if possible. I guess that means if I win, I’ll have to do the same for you. Do you like daisies?”
“Shut up!” Josiah shouted.
His men shifted nervously. Either because their boss was obviously losing his temper or because Gray seemed so completely unaffected by the scene before him. Most of them had lost the smug looks they’d started out with and had expressions ranging from confusion to outright fear.
Because only a madman—or a stone-cold killer who was very good at his job—would be so unconcerned about being this outnumbered with several supposed loved ones in his enemies’ hands.
He had to keep the fact that his stomach churned with every second Mercy knelt at their feet to himself. Keep them guessing. Keep them scared. And he had to keep Banff distracted long enough to get in a good position. And long enough to allow a few more townspeople to get into place. If they were coming.
He slowly stepped off the porch of Doc’s clinic, moving out farther into the street. Josiah’s eyes narrowed, but Gray took care not to move toward him, and he kept his hands held slightly up, enough so the men could see he wasn’t going for his guns.
The drapes on the second floor of the tavern moved slightly, and Gray thought he caught sight of Mrs. DuVere’s brilliant jewel-colored gown. If the woman also had a gun in her hand, he’d buy enough drinks to keep her tavern in business until the day he died. Even if he never drank them. His one escapade into drunkenness had been more than enough for him.
Josiah’s face twisted in anger. “I tried to go about this the nice way, Sheriff,” he spat out. “I was willing to pay your little bitch of a wife good money for land that should be rightfully mine. But she had to be difficult!”
The man holding the gun on her nudged her head hard, pushing her forward enough that she fell into the dirt.
Rage flashed through Gray again, and he clenched his fists to contain it. He had to bide his time. Wait for the right moment. Josiah was trying to get in his head. Trying to enrage him so he’d make a mistake.
And he was doing a fantastic job.
But he couldn’t let him see it.
Sunshine reached out to help Mercy back up as best he could with his hands bound together. The men watching them allowed him to get her upright, and then his captor shoved at him with the tip of his pistol until he had to let her go.
Gray sucked a deep breath in through his nose, trying to will himself into that calm, quiet place that he needed in order to get them all out of this alive. Though at this point, he wasn’t sure that was possible. He’d do what he could, though. As long as Mercy walked away. The men, too, if he could. But, the devil take it, he’d sacrifice them all to save her.
“You’re absolutely right,” he made himself say.Keep up the small talk. Keep them confused.“My wifedoestend to be difficult. Had problems with her myself,” he said.
Mercy made a strangled noise behind her gag and glared up at him. Even bound and gagged and held at gunpoint, the woman was a gutsy little spitfire who refused to take his shit. God, he loved her.
“I’d be happy to give her a stern talking-to if you’d like me to get her off your hands,” he said, taking a step toward her.
Several of Josiah’s men aimed their guns at him and he stopped, hands up. “Just thought I’d offer.”
“The only thing I want you offering is the deed to that property. The speed with which you sign it over will determine how quickly or slowly I let you die. And who I send to die with you.”
Movement near the jailhouse caught his attention, and he looked over to see Frank inching his way up the stairs to Sunshine’s apartment. The fact that he was literally tiptoeing would have made Gray laugh on any other day. Today, he just hoped the man could make it to the top without being seen. And, once there, could make it to the roof or the window or wherever he was planning on going with the ancient shotgun that he had clutched in his hands.
“What’s going on here, Sheriff?” Tom said, coming from the direction of the smithy with a heavy hammer in each hand.
Josiah sneered at him. “Are you planning on fighting bullets with your hammers, blacksmith?”
Tom shrugged. “I’m not planning on anything, Mr. Banff. Just thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
Frank’s three brothers slowly approached from the alley behind them. One held a pitchfork. The other two were unarmed but stood with their arms crossed behind Gray.
Josiah’s eyes darted among them, growing more agitated by the second. But when no one else approached, his scornful expression returned. “A pretty poor showing for the beloved town sheriff.”
Gray shrugged. “These men are here because they are loyal friends. Yours are here because they are being threatened or paid. I’d rather trust my back to my friends.”
