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He stood and brushed the dirt from his hands, sucking in a deep breath of cool evening air. Despite all that had gone on since arriving in Desolation, there was still a sense of peace here that he hadn’t found anywhere else in his travels. He didn’t know what it was about the place. The town was certainly nothing special. The land around him was covered with apple trees, which did nothing to endear it to him. Yet, something about this place called to him. Tempted him to stay.
“Gray! I’m cuttin’ the pie if you want some!” Mercy stood silhouetted in the warm light from the house, waving at him to come in.
Gray rubbed his stomach, a faint smile tugging on his lips.
Pie.
He’d worry about all the things that might force him to leave this place tomorrow. Because he knew one thing for certain. No way that Josiah character or his men were as easy to scare off as the morally dubious sheriff.
Chapter Nine
Gray scratched at his chest and waved his hand at a buzzing fly. His belly was full of a surprisingly edible breakfast, his feet were propped on the railing of the porch of his small bungalow, and he’d reached that pleasantly dizzy stage of almost-asleep-ness that he so enjoyed.
It had been quiet for nearly a week, aside from Jason’s incessant chattering and Mercy’s interminable nagging. And having to deal with Jason bunking with him in the bungalow, since Mercy said it was either that or she’d let the kid stay in the main house with her. Which wasn’t going to happen.
He’d even managed to ignore them both long enough to transplant a few wild daisies into his window boxes. He’d been quite enjoying caring for the cheery little buds. All in all, it was a damn fine morning.
That alone should have warned him that it was all about to go to shit.
The distant pounding of several horses’ hooves rumbled the floorboards beneath his rocking chair, and he squinted up from under his hat. Judging by the dust cloud coming at them, Josiah had rounded up a few new men and had come to call.
He didn’t move. Just watched as they rode in. Jason, on the other hand, came running out of the house as though it were on fire. Gray snorted. The enemy wouldn’t be frightened off by hysterics. Might as well save the energy for when it was needed.
“Mr. Woodson! They’re here!” Jason called to him.
“Great. Get rid of them for me, would ya?”
Gray pulled his hat back over his eyes and tipped his head back on his chair, taking a deep breath. Such a lovely morning for a nap.
Someone shoved his feet off the railing, and Gray sat up with a grunt. Mercy glared down at him, her ancient shotgun in her hands. “You going to help or just sit there?”
“I should have thought that was obvious,” he said, leaning back in his chair again so he could prop his feet back up on the railing.
She made a cute little growling sound in the back of her throat that had him chuckling and stomped off, her muttered curses colorful enough to burn his ears.
“Are you really going to sit there and do nothing?” Jason said, gesturing to the rising cloud of dust that was nearly upon them.
Gray sighed and peered at him. “I doubt they’re here to do more than blow a little more hot wind. And if they do start some trouble, Mercy is nothing if not capable of defending herself. I should know.”
Jason gaped at him. “But…”
In his experience, men rarely came at him in a thundering cloud of dust for a fair fight. They knew he’d win. So whatever Josiah was on about today, he doubted it was going to amount to much of anything. Later, though…well, he’d likely have to deal with some sneakin’ and shootin’, which meant he needed a nap.
Gray pulled his hat lower. “When we made our deal, she said my presence should be enough to scare them off. Well, I’m present. Now go away.”
Jason scattered with a few impressive curses of his own. Good for him. Gray didn’t think he’d had it in him.
He must have dozed off for a second, because when shouting started, he came back around with a rattling snore. He pushed his hat back enough so he could see what was going on. That damn nuisance Josiah Banff was sitting like a general in the middle of Mercy’s yard, giving her some sort of ultimatum, Gray assumed. His voice was too low to make out everything he was saying, and Gray didn’t want to move closer so he could hear better. He could guess what the man was saying well enough. He’d met plenty of men like Josiah. Mercy, spitfire that she was, had no such issue with volume.
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Josiah Banff, my property is not for sale. And neither am I!”
She hitched the shotgun up on her shoulder a little higher. Good girl.
“You want it, you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands!” she shouted.
He shook his head. Not so good. Giving your enemy ideas was really not a great strategy.
“Suit yourself. We all have to live with the consequences of our choices, Miss Douglas,” Josiah said. “Have a pleasant morning.”
