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He dropped his hammer in the bucket and turned to go back to the house. Then he ducked, jerking his body to the left just as a fist came flying at his face.
Mr. Schumacher stood there panting and raised his fists again. Adam didn’t think he was still drunk, but he was definitely the worse for wear.
Adam glared at him. “I’m not going to fight you.”
“Afraid to get beat by an old man?” he sneered, swinging again. Adam easily dodged him.
“I think we both know that isn’t the case.”
“Then what is it?” He swung again. But this time Adam caught his fist and held on tight.
“It would upset Nora. And one of us in this yard actually cares for her enough to make sure he doesn’t do anything to make an already hard situation even worse for her.”
All the fight went out of Mr. Schumacher, and he dropped his fist. “You took everything from me.”
“No, I didn’t, Mr. Schumacher. You gave it all away.”
He just stared at Adam for a moment, his chest heaving. Then his shoulders slumped, and he turned, beaten, and walked away.
It wasn’t Adam’s fault. He knew it. But he still couldn’t help the guilt that crept through him. Maybe he should have just kept his nose out of it. But he had to go and do it again. Try to help, and instead make an asinine decision that did nothing but make everyone’s life worse. Like when he’d tried to help a certain nameless gunfighter gain a reputation for himself—thinking it was what every man wanted—and unknowingly destroyed his life instead.
When was he going to learn that his “help” never did anyone any good? All he could do now was hope that something turned out right, at least for the one who deserved it most.
…
Adam hammered the last nail into the board and gave the shelf a good tug. Solid as an oak tree. He was getting fairly good with the carpentry stuff. Perhaps Mr. Vernice shouldn’t have been so quick to fire him.
“That looks great, Adam, thanks,” Sunshine said, admiring the shelf that he’d just hung.
Adam tried not to let the praise go to his head. It was just a shelf. But he was ridiculously proud of his fledgling skills, so he gave Sunshine a heartfelt thanks.
He put up his tools and then came out to join Sunshine on the walkway in front of the sheriff’s office and jailhouse. It was situated right in the middle of town with Doc’s clinic beside it and the tavern, boardinghouse, and general store directly across from it. Most of the action in town happened here. It was a good place to set up a law enforcement station. Of which he was a part. Him. An outlawed gunslinger.
Then again, their sheriff was another such as himself, so it wasn’t like he was reinventing the saddle or anything. But it was surreal, to be sure.
“So how’s married life treating you, Mr. Brady?” Sunshine asked.
Adam’s eyebrow shot up and he opened and closed his mouth several times before shrugging. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”
Sunshine laughed. “Well, now that’s the first time I’ve heard that.”
Adam gave him a half grin. “No. It’s just…” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got nothing but time,” Sunshine said with a shrug.
Adam leaned against the wall of the jailhouse and crossed his arms. “Well, for starters, I’m not a hundred percent sure we actually are married. No one seems to know. Preacher says we’re married in the eyes of God. We said ‘I do.’ We live together. Do…other things together. So does a piece of paper really matter that much when everything else about our union says that we’re married?”
“Have you asked Preacher about it?”
“He seems just as stumped.”
Sunshine nodded a few times, and then he blew out a breath. “Would you like my opinion?”
“Yes. Please.”
“You and Miss Nora seem happy enough together. You said ‘I do’ before Preacher, so you are good with God. It wasn’t all that many years ago, a church wedding was all folks out here needed. So I don’t see that the government adding some extra paperwork makes that much difference. If you are good with God and happy with each other, who cares what anyone else thinks? Do what makes you happy, Mr. Brady.”
Adam blinked at him, the sheer brilliant simplicity of that echoing through him.
