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Mercy gave him the look that comment deserved. “You’re going to tell me, Gray Woodson, so you might as well just get it over with. And shouldn’t we discuss what we’re going to do about the rest of this?”
“The rest of what?”
“This,” she said, waving her hand to encompass the whole room. “This whole situation.”
He frowned. “What’s there to discuss?”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “The fact that you want to wrap up a dead man for safe keeping instead of burying him, for starters. And the fact that there appears to be a bounty on your head.”
Gray grunted. “For a hundred dollars.”
“Stop acting like that’s not a big deal,” Mercy said, her voice rising. “There are men who will come after you for that.”
“Not good ones.”
“That’s not the point, Gray,” she said, throwing her hands up. “There might be more of them out there right now.”
Gray shrugged. “If there are, I’ll handle them.”
Before Mercy could argue with him more—bless the woman, he truly didn’t think she could help it—Preacher spoke up.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a quick discussion, Sheriff. Since the issue seems as though it is no longer confined to Mercy and her property. Not all of us are as…experienced in dealing with this type of thing as you are.”
Doc and Mrs. DuVere nodded in agreement. Gray sighed. He couldn’t fight them all.
“Sunshine,” Gray said. He knew the man had to be close by somewhere. He was always underfoot.
Jason hurried over from the corner of the smithy, carrying a large piece of canvas.
“Help them with the body,” Gray said. “I’m going to get Mercy home. If everyone insists on a…discussion,” he said, with as much exasperation as he could, just to make sure everyone knew how he felt on the matter, “we can meet back at the jailhouse in an hour.”
Jason nodded, already heading to the small group of men around the body.
Mercy turned to him and crossed her arms. “I’m staying,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. He didn’t bother trying.
“Fine.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I need a good strong cup of coffee.”
“I can help with that,” Martha said.
“Why don’t we meet at my place?” Mrs. DuVere said. “There’s more room.”
Gray glanced at the crowd they’d gathered, a bit flummoxed as they all agreed on a meeting place. None of this was necessary. The bounty hunters were his problem. It was his head they were after. He’d deal with it. Though it didn’t seem he really had a say.
Within a few minutes, he was following the women to the parlor house. Not a place he’d ever thought to bring his wife, but, lady’s choice. Then again, they’d been married there, so he supposed normal social conventions didn’t apply to his marriage. In any sense.
Mrs. DuVere had him settled in her ornate dining room, a large mug of coffee in front of him along with a plate of delectable muffins and cookies. The snacks might almost be worth attending this pointless meeting.
The rest of the men were back just as he’d gotten started on his second cup of coffee. After a quick wash up in the kitchen—Mrs. DuVere’s orders—the town council, plus Mercy and Gray, were seated around the table with their beverage and food of choice and ready to get down to business. Since he still had no idea what that was, he was at a bit of a loss when they all turned to him, waiting for him to say something.
“What?”
Mercy shook her head though her lips were twitching. “What do you think we should do about this situation?”
He frowned. “As I said before, I don’t think there’s anythingtodo. If we even have a situation, as you call it, which I’m not convinced of. I’m not even all that convinced anyone else will be coming.”
“Of course more will come,” Mercy said, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Why do you think they won’t be?” Doc asked.
