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Mercy started at the question. She’d almost forgotten Josiah was even there. Something he’d certainly noticed and did not appreciate if his glare were any indication. That was a definite mark in the stranger’s favor.
“Nope, just retrieving my horse and I’ll be on my way,” the man said.
But a gasp from one of Josiah’s men drew all their attention. The disheveled man sighed as Josiah’s man whispered something in his ear.
“Here we go,” the stranger muttered.
Josiah’s eyes widened and looked at the stranger with much more interest. And a flash of fear. Mercy frowned a little. What was going on?
Josiah drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders as he faced the stranger.
“Now, see here, Mr. Woodson, we don’t want none of your kind of trouble.”
The sheriff’s face drained of color so quickly that Mercy thought for a moment he might faint. “Quick Shot Woodson?”
The stranger grimaced. “My mama called me Gray.” Then he turned to Josiah. “You have a problem with me bein’ here, take it up with ol’ Birdie. She’s the one who decided to interrupt your little discussion.”
He bent to pick up an apple from the ground and waved it in the direction of his horse, who studiously ignored him. He didn’t seem to care at all about the armed men in his midst.
Mercy raised a brow. So, this was the infamous Quick Shot. Her father had told her ol’ Quick Shot had once taken out four men in El Paso before any of them even had a chance to aim. Hard to believe, looking at the man in front of her. He didn’t look like he could dispose of the apple in his hand.
Then again, Josiah and his men were already behaving much better with him here. Most of them had taken a step or three back, and Josiah hadn’t looked in her direction once since old—emphasis on theold—Quick Shot showed up.
Maybe he could be useful after all.
It wasn’t like she had many other options. Oranyother options, really.
Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “Plans can change, though, can’t they, sweetheart. Depending on the circumstances.” She ignored the shock on Quick Shot’s face and turned back to Josiah. “I see you men have heard of my fiancé. Good, that’ll save me the introductions. And the warning.”
She glanced at her new “fiancé” and said, “Supper will be ready in an hour, dear.”
Then she turned and headed down the hill to her house, not caring how any of the men were reacting to her declaration.
If Quick Shot refuted her claim, and frankly she fully expected him to, then at the very least she’d bought herself a few minutes to get away from Josiah and back into the safety of her locked house. If he didn’t refute it, if he actually went along with the outrageous lie she’d just announced, then… Hell, she had no idea what she’d do.
But she’d better figure it out quick. Before the most infamous gunslinger in the country followed her home.
Chapter Three
Gray stood, plum speechless, as the woman marched away.
The men across from him were just as flummoxed, if their slack-jawed expressions meant anything. Well, what the hell was he supposed to do now? He’d only wanted his horse. Now he had a fiancée? He could call her obvious bluff, but he had a feeling that would make the men who were nervously shifting their feet around him a mite too happy. And he wasn’t in the business of making anyone happy.
His old nag of a horse didn’t seem to have any confusion and was already trotting after the woman, whose name he’d never caught. Useless animal. The woman had smelled disarmingly like she’d been bathing in a vat of cider, which was probably what Birdie saw in her.
He glanced at the men once more and blew out a breath. This was what happened when he stepped into shit that wasn’t his.
He sighed. Ah, the hell with it. It was getting dark, he was hungry, and he hadn’t had any better offers. She’d mentioned supper, after all. Maybe he could at least get a meal out of her. He turned on his heel and followed the woman down the hill, admiring the view as he went. His new fiancée might have a bad temper and some impulse control issues, but she had a fine, plump backside that under other circumstances he’d be delighted to follow around.
When the woman got to her front porch she paused and turned, her eyes widening a little when he entered the yard.
“Did you not expect me to follow you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Wasn’t sure what I expected, to be honest. I hadn’t exactly been planning to announce an engagement to the whole world.”
He raised a brow. “I take it you aren’t really after marryin’ me?”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes—deep blue, the color of overripe blueberries, a surprising combination with her brown curly hair—flashed with the sudden color.
