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She nodded. It was nicer than demands, at least.
“I want a deputy that I get to choose. If I have to deal with all this,” he said, waving his hand toward the door, and the town, presumably, “then I’m not going to do it alone.”
“That’s reasonable,” Doc said, and everyone nodded.
“Also, as I assume this’ll be an all-day ordeal,” Gray said with a sigh. “I want meals delivered promptly at noon every day.”
“Won’t your…wife-to-be…take care of that?” Reverend Donnelly asked, his pale-blue eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them.
Mercy’s stomach dropped. Oh. That was her. “Of course,” she said, her cheeks flaming.
Gray shook his head with a look of horror, and she had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Mercy is busy enough with her own chores. She doesn’t need to be runnin’ into town to feed me every day.”
Nice of him, though Mercy had no doubt he was more worried about the quality of his food, not about inconveniencing her. Not that she blamed him. Maybe she’d come into town around noon every day anyway and see if he’d share with her.
“I can take care of it,” Martha said. “I always make far too much for me and my grandparents, anyway.”
His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. “Excellent.”
She glowered at him. He didn’t have to seem so happy about someone else feeding him. He very studiously ignored her.
“And I want a generous income,” Gray said. Everyone nodded, but he held up a finger. “Very generous.”
The others’ enthusiasm waned a bit, but Mrs. DuVere didn’t seem to have any qualms. “Agreed.”
He frowned, like he’d expected her to fight harder. “And I want a new kettle,” he added, pointing to the now empty potbellied stove in the corner.
“Done,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.
He looked at it for a second, like he was trying to work up the nerve to grab a snake by the head. Finally, he groaned and shook her hand. “Fine. I’ll be the damn sheriff, then.”
Chapter Eleven
Reverend Donnelly handed him the badge, and Gray stared down at it. What in the ever-loving hell had he just done? Had he really just agreed to be sheriff?
What would happen if word got out? Would they have to change all his wanted posters to include his new title? Then again, it had been a fair amount of time since anyone had put out a mistaken wanted poster on him. After all, his gunfights were always in self-defense.
Still. Gray Woodson, sheriff, was just…odd.
“Oh, one more thing,” Reverend Donnelly said. “The apartment above the jailhouse here comes with the job. I assume you’ll want to take advantage of that until…well…” He gestured between Gray and Mercy with that look of faint disapproval that church folk always seemed to sport whenever there was the merest suggestion that a little unwedded bliss might be occurring.
Mercy, her cheeks flaming, opened her mouth, but Gray spoke before she could. “No.”
Her head jerked up and her gaze flew to his, stunned.
“But…” The reverend seemed at a loss for words, his cheeks flushing the same pale-red as his hair.
“As long as Josiah Banff is out there makin’ threats, I’m stayin’ with her.”
“Yes, but…” the preacher tried again.
“There’s no buts about it, preacher. You’ve all heard Banff threaten her a time or two. Those men in the cells are there because they showed up at her place with guns blazin’ and nothin’ but bad intentions. So, what would you rather it be, preacher? Would you rather protectheror your own sensibilities? Because that’s the only thing that’s bein’ harmed by my being there.”
The preacher’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but ultimately, he kept his holier-than-thou shit to himself. Good thing, too.
Gray jerked his head in a sharp nod. “Until Banff is dealt with, I’m not leavin’ her side. Anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with me.”
He pinned each one with a hard look, but no one else had any wish to weigh in on the matter, it seemed. Good. Then his gaze met Mercy’s and he froze. Those blue eyes of hers shone extra bright, and she gave him a small, sweet smile that warmed him from one end to the other. There was gratitude in those eyes, but something else, too. Pride. For him.
