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“Hmm, thatisa coincidence,” Mercy said, and Martha playfully swatted at Mercy’s arm.
“Well, who is he?” Martha asked.
“The gentleman is, in fact, my fiancé,” Mercy said.
Martha shot straight up, and her hands clutched her bosom as she squealed excitedly. “Oh, Mercy, that is just wonderful news! Who is he? Where’s he from? What’s his name? How did you meet? He’s certainly not from around here.” She looked him over again, a slight furrow appearing in her brow. “He’s not really who I’d ever imagined you with,” she said, contemplating him. Then her frown cleared, and she was all smiles again. “But he does have an exciting sort of look about him, if you get my meaning.”
Mercy laughed, though a twinge of guilt wormed its way through her at the deception she needed to maintain. “We haven’t known each other long, but the situation suits us. His name is Gray Woodson.”
Martha stopped mid-squeal, her eyes round as oranges. “Gray Woodson? As in…‘Quick Shot’ Woodson?”
Mercy nodded slowly, and Martha let out a long breath. “Well, I suppose we know why the sheriff disappeared. That does add a little flavor to it, doesn’t it? Are you…is he… I mean, well, I think…” Martha stammered, and Mercy smiled.
“He’s retired, looking to settle down in a nice place. But I expect there will be those who might not take kindly to his presence in town. I do hope you’ll help me persuade everyone that he will be a welcome addition to our community. He’s…”
She stopped and frowned, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say. How in the world could she describe someone who completely flummoxed her at every turn?
“He’s not what I expected, either,” she finally said.
She didn’t know what sort of expression was on her face, but Martha gave her a long, hard look and then a slow smile stretched across her face.
“Well, whatever it is between you, it seems to suit you. I’ve never seen you look more…alive.”
Mercy blinked, surprised. “Thank you,” she said.
“So, when is the wedding? Soon, I assume.”
Mercy opened her mouth to answer and then realized she had no idea how to respond to that particular query.
“I’m not sure. Not too soon. There’s no rush, after all.”
Martha’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Well. I just thought… Well, never mind. As long as he’s not playing the scoundrel and trying to take any liberties,” she said with a wink.
Mercy’s cheeks flushed, the sudden image of Gray wearing nothing but a thin linen cloth about his hips assailing her.
Just the memory of him standing there, beads of water rolling down his chest, set her heart racing. Heaven help her, but a few more moments like that and she wouldn’t be averse to him trying to take a few liberties. If he didn’t aggravate her into an early grave first.
“Well, are you going to bring him in to say hello?” Martha said.
Mercy almost laughed. “He’s not the most sociable creature, I’m afraid. But I think we will get him warmed up to everyone soon enough.”
Martha nodded, helping Mercy pack the rest of her purchases into a basket. “You can count on me. I’ll make sure everyone knows they’re to give him a chance before drawing any conclusions.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
“Oh, your pie! I’ll go fetch it while you load up your wagon,” she said and hurried off.
Mercy took a deep breath to regain her composure and then went to deposit her purchases in the wagon.
Gray watched as she put everything in the back, though he made no move to help her. Not surprising. Who would hold up the post if he moved?
She finished stowing everything and came to stand close to him. He glanced up, obviously surprised that she was voluntarily standing within touching distance.
“Martha is coming out,” she said to him, low enough only he could hear. They were alone, but she was conscious of more than one pair of eyes on them. “Be nice. She’s my friend.”
Gray frowned. “Contrary to your obvious belief, I don’t go about tryin’ to insult innocent women.”
Mercy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you mean to, but…” She waved a hand from his boots to his hat. “This tends to rub people the wrong way, shall we say.”
