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Mercy gasped when Gray hit the ground, and she dropped to her knees beside him, patting his cheeks.
“Jamison?” she asked, glancing up at Doc, worry coursing through her.
But Doc just laughed. “He’ll be fine. I suspect his delicate constitution has more to do with your condition than his. Good luck with that one,” he said, though there was a twinkle in his eyes.
“You won’t get away with this,” the gunman said as Frank yanked him off the ground and dragged him to his horse. “Josiah Banff is a powerful man. He won’t let this go.”
Preacher stepped forward. “Frank, perhaps you should escort our new witness here to a jail cell.”
The man frowned even as Frank nodded. “Witness? What do you mean, witness?”
Mercy stood and rounded on him. “He means that you just gave up your boss. And if you want any sort of protection from him—and you’re going to need it—you’ll tell the authorities everything you know about Josiah and this bounty.”
If possible, the gunman’s face paled even further, and he stuttered a few times but then slumped, letting Frank half walk, half drag him to the jailhouse. Maybe he’d realized speaking against Josiah was his best bet to stay alive. Whatever it was, she didn’t dwell on it, because Gray’s eyes blinked open and gazed at her with bemused wonder.
She helped him to his feet, and Doc turned to Jason. “Deputy Sheriff, I think it’s past time Josiah saw the inside of a jail cell.”
All amusement in Jason’s eyes died. “Agreed.”
“I’ll go with you,” Preacher said.
Jason nodded and turned to Gray. “We’ll head out and arrest him, Sheriff, and that should be the end of all discussions about you leaving again.”
“Thank you,” Gray said, clearing his throat. “I…” He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Doc smiled. “You’ve had our backs since day one.”
Gray opened his mouth, probably to refute that claim, but shut it with a grunt when Mercy elbowed him in the ribs.
Doc continued, unaware of Gray’s antics. “It’s time for Josiah and anyone else who has an inkling to cause trouble to know that from here on out, Desolation will no longer allow its citizens to be terrorized. We take care of our own.”
“Here, here!” the crowd cheered.
And this time Mercy didn’t try to hold back her happy tears.
She wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist and leaned against him.
“Welcome home, my love.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Mercy held the wad of cotton to Gray’s temple while Doc wound some torn linen strips around it to hold everything in place.
She sighed and looked down at him. “You know, if you’d hold still, this would go a lot faster.”
“Or you could just not do it at all, and we’d be done already,” he grumbled.
Mercy exchanged an exasperated look with the doctor.
“Head wounds tend to be bleeders,” the doc explained. Again. “If nothing else, it’ll keep your hat from getting bloodstains.”
Gray griped some more, but he did stop fidgeting, so that argument must have done the trick. Doc finished wrapping him up and stepped back to admire his handiwork. He gave a sharp nod and then fixed Gray with his steady gaze.
“I’d like you to stay here tonight so I can keep an eye on you. Head wounds can be tricky. Mercy, you are welcome to stay with him,” he said, giving her an awkward smile. “There are several cots set up in the next room you are welcome to use.”
Mercy nodded, though Gray was still muttering under his breath and pouting.
The doc turned back to him. “If all looks well in the morning, I’ll send you on your way home. But you’ll need to take it easy for a few days.”
