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Adam slowly looked over toward Woodson. Who stared right back at him, his face blank with shock.
Uh-oh.
Adam backed up a step, his hand tightening on Nora’s—his wife’s?—arm when she made to step away. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said to her, though he didn’t take his eyes off Woodson. “You don’t go anywhere until we finish our little chat. I just have to deal…with that…first,” he said, glancing briefly at her while nodding at Woodson.
The sheriff’s eyes widened, and Adam knew his luck, such as it was, had run out.
Woodson’s hands immediately went for his holsters, and Adam lurched back, but the crowd had grown too dense. And once they saw who the sheriff was sputtering at, several pairs of hands grabbed him and hauled him forward. His little missus followed of her own accord, her arms crossed and amusement shining from her eyes. So much for Desolation being a friendly, welcoming town.
Woodson slapped at his holsters, pockets, and jacket, and Adam relaxed just a hair when he realized that the sheriff didn’t appear to be armed. Odd. Quick Shot Woodson—er, Sheriff Woodson—walking around town without a weapon? Not that Adam was complaining, mind. But still…odd.
Woodson whirled on the woman standing next to him. She shrugged before he even said a word. “They’re in the carrot patch.”
The sheriff’s face turned thunderous, but it didn’t seem to bother the woman a whit. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and gave him what Adam could swear was an amused, even fond, smile.
“Dammit, Mercy, what good does it do to keep hiding my guns when you always know where they are?”
She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to tell you that for nigh on three years now.”
Woodson threw his hands up and then looked around. “Someone give me a gun.”
Adam tried to jerk away from his captors as several people pulled their guns to give to the sheriff, but Mercy—Woodson’s wife?—stepped in front of him, blocking Adam somewhat from Woodson’s line of sight.
“That’s not necessary,” she said. “Everyone calm down. Gray,” she said, turning to the sheriff, “what on earth is going on?”
The sheriff took several deep breaths and then jerked his head toward Adam. “Remember when I told you that I only became a gunfighter because after my first gunfight there was a loudmouth who blabbed about it, so everybody knew what happened and after that my life was a miserable hell of everybody and their giddy aunt comin’ after me?”
“Yes.” Then her eyes widened, and she looked at Adam.
He gave her a weak wave. “Hi.”
“He’s the loudmouth,” Woodson said.
Adam grimaced. “‘Loudmouth’ is a bit harsh.” Nora snorted beside him, and he gave her a quick glare.
“That was you?” the cheerful-looking young man standing next to Woodson said. His mouth quirked up in a smile that Adam couldn’t really decipher. He seemed amused maybe. Or possibly impressed.
“All hail the kingmaker…so to speak,” the man said.
Woodson rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Sunshine.”
The man—Sunshine, apparently—just smiled bigger. His name definitely suited him.
Adam shook his head. “I didn’t make him a gunfighter or king of the gunfighters or whatever. You were the one who got in the gunfight in the first place. And won. Spectacularly, I might add.”
Gray’s eyes narrowed. “You were the one who blabbed about it to anyone who would listen.”
“Well, if you want to nitpick about it.”
Woodson sputtered and Adam hurried on. “It’s not like I’m the only one who saw what happened. Everyone else was talking, too.” Keeping his mouth shut would have been a wiser decision, but…well…again, decisions weren’t his strong suit.
Woodson stepped down from the platform, and Adam straightened his backbone. If he was going down, he’d do it with dignity. As much as he could muster anyway. That look Woodson was giving him would give even the bravest man a yellow streak or two.
“Everyone might have been talkin’, butyouwere the one who did a whole damn interview with that busybody reporter. I could have just ridden out of there and nobody would’ve been the wiser. Talk would have died down. Nobody even knew who I was except you, and it could have stayed that way, but you had to go tell everybody my name, and after they ran that cockamamie story, my life was over. I was up on posters all over the place with that ridiculous nickname—”
“Ididcome up with Quick Shot,” Adam said to Nora, grinning. She raised her eyebrows, her gaze flashing back to Woodson, and Adam immediately kicked himself. But really, it wasn’t every day a person got to name a notorious gunfighter. Who was at that moment glaring daggers at him.
Right. Time to shut up.
