The Outlaw's Return. Victoria Bylin

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СКАЧАТЬ J. T. Quinn couldn’t be trusted, not with her heart and not with knowledge of the baby. He’d disrespected her. She refused to allow him to disrespect a child that had never been born. In Abilene he’d left her in the middle of a conversation. Today she wanted answers. Why are you here? What do you want? Any minute people would start leaving church. Since Gertie and Augustus were with Adie, the café would be empty. She thought of yesterday’s stew in the icebox. J.T. looked hungry, and so did his dog. She’d never been good at turning away strays.

      “I own a restaurant,” she said. “You look like you could use a meal.”

      “No, thanks.”

      He sounded confident, but he had the air of a boy trying to be tough. Her heart softened more than she wanted to admit. “Are you sure?”

      “No, thanks, Mary. I just…” He shook his head, but the gesture didn’t answer her questions.

      A terrible foreboding took root in her belly. Had he heard the talk in Abilene? Did he know about the baby but not the miscarriage? She couldn’t stand the thought of the scandal finding her again, nor did she want to open old wounds. Trying to appear casual, she tipped her head. “What brings you to Denver?”

      “It’s not important.”

      She didn’t believe him. Whatever his reason for being at Brick’s, he’d made an effort to find her. She felt cheated by the lie, just as she’d felt cheated in Abilene. “If it wasn’t important, you’d answer the question.”

      “I know what I’m doing.”

      When he smirked, she saw the man who’d left her pregnant and disgraced. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, J.T.?”

      His eyes were even bluer than she recalled, and his cheekbones more chiseled. The sun, high and bright, lit up his unshaven jaw and turned his whiskers into gold spikes. The man was untouchable, unreachable.

      “That’s right,” he finally said. “I haven’t changed a bit.”

      “I have.” She lowered her voice. “What happened between us in Abilene is in the past. I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my privacy.”

      “Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t see me again.”

      His surrender shocked her to the core. She wanted to know why he’d given in so easily, but she couldn’t risk lingering outside the church and being seen. To protect her reputation, she’d have to live with yet another unanswered question. With her head high, she stepped off the boardwalk. To her consternation, the dog followed her. In the middle of the empty street, she stopped and turned back to J.T. “Call your dog.”

      His jaw tightened. “Come on, dog.”

      Mary scowled at him. “You named her Dog? No wonder she’s not obeying you!”

      “That’s not her name,” he muttered.

      “Then what is it?”

      He looked straight at her. “Her name is Fancy Girl.”

      Air rushed into Mary’s lungs. Fancy Girl had been his name for her. He’d called her his Fancy Girl, because she’d liked to dress up for the stage. She’d enjoyed the makeup and the flamboyant dresses, particularly the costumes that had freed her from the dullness of Frog’s Landing. “You named her after me?”

      “Yeah.”

      She should have been insulted. The fool man had named a dog after her! Yet she knew it hadn’t been an insult. He loved his dog. A long time ago, even though he hadn’t said the words, Mary had thought he’d loved her. She’d been mistaken. J.T. didn’t love anyone. “It’s been nice seeing you,” she said in a courteous tone. “But I have to get home.”

      “I understand.”

      She doubted it. He didn’t know her at all anymore. Reaching down, she rubbed the scar between the dog’s ears. “Goodbye, Fancy Girl.”

      After a final scratch, she continued across the street. When the dog tagged along, J.T.’s voice boomed behind her. “Fancy Girl! Get over here!”

      Hearing her old name in J.T.’s baritone stopped Mary in her tracks, but Fancy Girl ignored him. Mary rather enjoyed the dog’s rebellion. People usually did what J.T. ordered. Occasionally they did it with a gun aimed at them, but mostly they obeyed because he spoke with authority. He wasn’t in charge now.

      As he called the dog a second time, a man came out of the church, looked long and hard at J.T., and went on his way. Any minute the congregation would be in the street and he’d be a spectacle in his black clothing. Needing to persuade him, Mary flashed a smile. “I promised Fancy Girl a plate of scraps. It looks like she’s holding me to it.”

      His eyes twinkled. “She’s a smart dog.”

      “Would you like to come with us?”

      He snorted. “For scraps?”

      “Scraps for her. Pot roast for you.” She tried to sound businesslike. “I really do own a restaurant.”

      “Oh, yeah?”

      “The best in town. It’s called Mary’s Café.” She raised her chin. “It’s mine, and I’m proud of it.”

      “You should be.” Still he didn’t move.

      “Come on.” She aimed her chin down the street. “Your dog won’t take no for an answer.”

      A smile tipped on the corners of his mouth. “Sounds like you won’t, either.” Looking pleased, he stepped off the boardwalk and strode to her side. With Fancy Girl between them, they headed to the café with Mary hoping they hadn’t been seen.

      J.T. smelled like dirt and mistakes, and he knew it. Apparently so did Mary. Her nose wrinkled as he stepped to her side, so he widened the gap between them. Fancy Girl smelled better than he did. He didn’t understand why his dog had taken such a strong liking to Mary, but he felt the same urge to follow her home.

      As they walked down the boardwalk, she made small talk about the weather. J.T. responded in kind, but his mind wasn’t on the July heat. He couldn’t think about anything except the changes in Mary. She still had a saucy attitude, but the lines around her mouth had softened into an easy smile and her brown eyes had a sheen of happiness. She wore her hair differently, too. The curls were still honey-blond, but she’d tamed them into a simple twist. Her dress, a demure lilac, could have belonged to a schoolmarm.

      Six months ago, he’d have mocked her plain dress and the prim hairstyle. He’d have teased her into being his Fancy Girl again, maybe into his bed.

      Not now.

      Not today. He thought back to how he’d left her and he had to wonder… What would have happened if he’d stayed with her? Would they be running a saloon with Mary singing and J.T. pouring drinks? He could resist the temptation to drink if it meant proving himself to Mary. His other worry—being called out by an old enemy, someone like Griff Lassen—would never leave, but time would ease the threat. Today, though, everything had changed. Mary didn’t need him at all. With no reason to stay, he decided to buy supplies and ride СКАЧАТЬ