The Marshal's Ready-Made Family (17 page)

Even as he watched, her eyes fluttered open. A delicate frown appeared between her brows. She stared at him for a long beat, her pale face sleepy and vulnerable. He’d give every possession he owned to kiss her awake, but he held himself rigidly in check. Since Flynn’s arrival he’d kept his distance. Yesterday had been a dream, but it was after midnight and yesterday was gone. Their brief peck in the church had shaken his resolve, but he hadn’t faltered.

Another flash of lightning startled her upright, and he immediately felt the loss of her comforting warmth.

Jo hugged his slicker around her shoulders and trembled. “Looks like we’ll get more rain this evening.”

Reluctant to abandon the precious cocoon of the evening, Garrett nodded. “We’d best get back.”

He descended the crude ladder first and reached for the lantern. Jo handed down the light and scaled the ladder, her movements quick and agile.

“Do you know your way in the dark?” she asked.

“Mostly. Let me fetch my horse. Take my hand, there’s a lot of underbrush.”

Her fingers were cold, and he tucked them into the crook of his elbow. She tightened her grip and leaned into his support. Holding the lantern ahead of them, he lit their way through the darkness. Jo made a soft sound, and he halted. She plowed into his back.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nope,” she replied, but he sensed the strain in her voice. “Actually, it’s my feet. I’m breaking in a new pair of boots.”

She revealed a pair of pointed-toe butterscotch-colored boots with cream stitching.

Garrett blew out a low whistle. “That’s some fancy footwear.”

“They’re called cowboy boots. A fellow up in Wichita makes them. The stitching helps the leather keep its shape. My folks ordered them special.”

“You sure are one of a kind.”

Garrett let out another, louder whistle and his horse, Blue, nickered in response. The underbrush crackled as they neared the horse, and trees rustled overhead in the increasing wind.

He reached out one hand. “You can ride and I’ll lead the way with the lantern.”

Jo gave a weary nod, and Garrett realized she’d reached the end of her endurance. “Not much longer now,” he offered by way of reassurance.

He circled her waist and easily lifted her onto the saddle. She rearranged her skirts and they set off once more. As they resumed their weary journey, the indigo horizon lightened enough he extinguished the lamp flame. The air was thick and damp, but no rain fell, and for that he was grateful. The path from the creek led them to the back of the house, and he paused on the freshly cut lawn.

Garrett caught sight of the porch and a trickle of apprehension stilled his progress. The back door stood open.

Jo slid off the horse, and he placed a restraining hand on her arm.

“Wait here,” he ordered as he relit the lantern.

Without his gun, Garrett moved cautiously. He pressed open the door with one hand and lifted the lantern. His stomach clenched at the shocking sight. The entire room had been ransacked. Broken crockery littered the floor between piles of flour, sugar and salt. The overturned kitchen table and chairs blocked his path, and he sagged against the doorjamb.

He felt rather than heard Jo close the distance behind him.

“What happened?” she asked, craning her neck. “Oh, gracious,” she said, her voice faltering.

Attempting to block her view, he turned and grasped her shoulders. “Let me check the rooms first. The people who did this might still be here.”

“Why?” She stared up at him, her eyes wide and bewildered in the dim lamplight. “Why would the boys do this?”

“The boys didn’t do this.”

She shoved him aside and stepped into the kitchen, her hands on her hips. “When you find out who did, I get first go at them.”

Garrett grunted his response and studied the ravaged room. The damage was malicious and angry, and he didn’t for a moment believe the McCoys had been involved. He considered searching the outbuildings, but there was no place to hide except the barn, and the animals would be agitated if they had company.

Besides, if he left Jo long enough for the trip to and from the outbuildings, she’d search the house herself and he didn’t want her stumbling into danger.

Though reluctant to leave her, even in the kitchen, Garrett needed the building searched. “Promise me you’ll wait here?”

Looking dazed, she absently nodded her head. Garrett quickly toured the house, his rage growing with each room. The mattresses had all been slashed and feathers littered the floor. Even Cora’s room had been tossed.

He soon realized the pillagers had fled, and the house was empty. He returned downstairs and found Jo kneeling on the littered floor, a broken plate in her hand, her expression stunned.

Garrett crouched behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she spoke, her voice no more than a whisper. “I don’t know anyone who would do this.”

Even the Walbys, who’d been cruel with their words and their deeds, had never shown this kind of violence in their actions.

“I don’t know, either.”

The dish fell from her limp fingers. “I wanted our wedding day to be perfect.”

Garrett fished out his pocket watch and checked the time. “It’s six in the morning. Our wedding day ended at midnight. It’s still perfect.”

A sob shook her shoulders, and he couldn’t recall a time he’d ever felt more helpless. He cradled her against his chest and brushed the tangled curls from her forehead.

Her body stiffened. “I can’t make up my mind if I’m angry or sad.”

“I’ll find out who did this. I promise.”

“I know you will.” She sniffled and swiped the back of her hand across the pink tip of her nose. “I don’t understand why someone would do this. It’s so destructive, so hateful.”

She clutched his hand and he realized she was ice-cold. Garrett chaffed her shoulders and nestled her against his warmth. “It’s early and we’re both exhausted. I’ll rustle up some blankets and we can snatch an hour or two of sleep down here. I don’t think they’ll come back, but I want you close just in case.”

After arranging a couple of makeshift beds in the dining room, Jo limped around the room, stepping over broken dishes.

“Sit,” Garrett ordered.

“I can’t. I can’t relax.”

“Let me help.”

He lowered her onto the blankets and arranged the pillows behind her back, then tugged off her boots. Jo groaned. Encouraged by her response, he massaged the delicate arch of her foot with the pads of his thumbs.

“That’s wonderful.” She sighed.

He continued the gentle pressure on her other foot. Gradually her shoulders drooped, and her eyes fluttered shut. After tucking the blanket more securely around her shoulders, Garrett started the cleanup in the early dawn light. The lantern burned low and flickered shadows on the walls as he swept up feathers and straightened their scattered clothing.

The damage was targeted and personal. Done by someone who wanted revenge. Garrett had an idea who that person might be, but he couldn’t reveal his suspicions without proof. If his hunch was correct, the troublemaker was guilty of more than vandalism.

Garrett was searching for a murderer.

Chapter Twenty

T
wo days following her marriage, Jo lifted a bolt of fabric from the mercantile display and held the yellow calico before her in the mirror. She tilted her head to one side and made a face.

Mary Louise appeared behind her in the reflection. “We have a ready-made in the blue. I think that color would go much better with your hair.”

“There’s not enough gravy for this goose.” Jo sighed.

The blond-haired girl lifted an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” Jo added quickly. “I’ll see the blue.”

Mary Louise disappeared into the backroom.

With her family watching Cora to give the newlyweds time alone together, she and Garrett had spent the two days following the wedding cleaning up the house. They’d kept the damage a secret from the McCoys, since she didn’t want to worry them. Despite her casual demeanor toward the incident, a sense of unease had permeated her days. Garrett had assured her they were safe, and she’d put on a brave face.

For two nights she’d tossed and turned, and she’d finally decided a trip into town was in order. Though school was out for the summer, Cora was studying with the teacher three mornings a week. Garrett avoided Jo at every possible opportunity.

Mary Louise returned holding a deep blue calico dress with blue, yellow and white flowers woven into the pattern.

“Try it on. The seams are only slip-stitched. I can have it finished in a day or two.”

Without waiting for an answer, Mary Louise hustled her into the change room, where Jo struggled into the dress. Minutes later, a knock sounded on the door.

“Are you finished yet?” Mary Louise called.

Jo emerged from the room and smoothed the material over her stomach. “It’s one piece. I never wear one piece.”

“Maybe you should. You look lovely.”

She guided Jo before the full-length mirror propped against a shelf of fabric bolts.

The dress was deceptively simple, a scoop neck with three-quarter sleeves and a deep V seaming at the waist. Jo turned from side to side. “It’s not so bad.”

Mary Louise lifted Jo’s braid and draped it over the top of her head. “We could put this up with only a few pins.”

Jo touched the side of her face. “What will people say?”

“You never struck me as the sort of person who wasted time on what other people thought.”

Despite her quiet demeanor, Mary Louise had pinned Jo’s braid around her head before she’d even thought of a suitable protest. Mary Louise fussed for another minute, then stepped back.

“That’s better.”

Jo glanced at her reflection again. She looked older, more sophisticated. Not foolish or silly at all.

Voices sounded from the store, and Mary Louise stepped before the door. Her face lit up, and Jo followed the direction of her gaze.

David.

Mary Louise fluffed her hair with both hands. “I have to see to a customer.”

Jo quickly donned her serviceable shirtwaist and skirt and ventured into the main store. One look at David and Mary Louise together and Jo realized Garrett had been right. The two were sweet on each other.

David caught sight of her and flushed. “Garrett asked me to come by today. Do you know what it’s about?”

“I think so. Why don’t we have lunch?”

He stood in indecision, and Jo smirked. “Do you have a better offer?”

David cast a lingering glance at Mary Louise and slowly shook his head.

After they’d sat down at the Palace Café and the waitress had taken their orders, Jo frowned. “You’d best tell Caleb how you feel about Mary Louise.”

David blanched. “Did your husband tell you?”

Her pulse stuttered at the title. That was the first time someone had referred to her as Garrett’s wife. “Anyone can see by the way the two of you look at each other,” she replied evasively.

“Nothing is settled yet. I can’t marry unless I can support her. She wants to stay in Cimarron Springs, but there’s more work for farmhands around Wichita.”

“Garrett wants you to be his deputy.”

David’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “No fooling?”

“No fooling.”

He threw back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I like the idea of that.”

“Garrett is a good man. Don’t let him down.”

Tilting his head to one side, her brother squinted. “Did you do something different with your hair? You look older or something. Pretty.”

Jo swatted his hand. “I hope you do better when you compliment Mary Louise.” Her grin disappeared. “It still means you have to settle things with Caleb.”

Her brother’s face crumpled. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“The right thing never is.” Jo rested her hand over his. “And the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”

* * *

Garrett stood as Jo and David entered the room. He was suddenly conscious of the watermarks covering the battered desk he’d inherited from the previous sheriff. Glancing down, he caught sight of his loosened shirttail and surreptitiously tucked the beige material into his waistband.

His gaze lighted on David and lingered on Jo. She’d done something different with her hair. Instead of her usual, single braid, she’d wound the braid at the base of her neck. The difference was subtle, but pleasing.

Garrett circled the desk and scraped another chair into place. “Sit down, you two.”

After they’d all gotten settled, he rubbed his face, wishing he’d shaved more carefully that morning. “I suppose Jo has told you what this is all about.”

David leaned forward. “You need help.”

“There are a lot of rumors floating around town, and business has slowed at the mercantile.”

“People think Mr. Stuart shot Mr. Hodges?”

“Yep.”

“What do you think?”

Garrett cast an uneasy glance at Jo. He trusted her, but he wasn’t ready to speak about his theory just yet. “I have some ideas. But I need help.”

As though on cue, Jo stood. “Why don’t you two finish your discussion. I’ll see if Cora is finished with the schoolteacher.”

She swept out of the room and Garrett followed her progress. Since the marriage, he felt more estranged from her. They were testing the waters of this new relationship, carefully feeling for the boundaries. Too carefully. Their encounters were brittle and stilted. He didn’t know how to keep his distance without jeopardizing their friendship.

“You were saying,” David prodded.

Garrett startled to attention. “I need you to keep an eye on someone.”

“Who?”

“Tom Walby.”

David’s eyes widened, and the younger man let out a low whistle. “You’re in a real pickle, aren’t you?”

Garrett thought of the evening ahead. Dinner with Jo. Small talk over the chores. His gaze drifting to her ripe, pink lips at every opportunity. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he next few weeks passed in relative peace for Jo. Her routine started at first light as she and Garrett rustled around the kitchen in companionable silence.

A gouge in the floor was the only evidence of the destruction from the night of their wedding, and Jo absently rubbed it with the tip of her boot. “How are you and David getting along?”

“Good. He’s a hard worker. Smart.”

Garrett had deputized her brother the week after their marriage and David had taken the sheriff’s rooms above the jailhouse. Just as she’d suspected, the living arrangement with her new husband was similar to growing up with her brothers.

They treated one another like fellow boarders, each wary of disturbing the other patron. They took great pains to avoid encountering each other on the stairs or in the hall. There were no highs and lows, just the steady, polite talk of weather and the occasional outing with Cora. He’d been leaving earlier and earlier in the morning, and this time Jo wasn’t letting him get away without talking to her.

She opened the pantry and searched the shelves. She was certain there was a single jar of peach preserves hiding in the back somewhere. “I bet he’s chomping at the bit for some excitement. We haven’t had a fire or a shooting in weeks. Even Tom’s been awful quiet.”

“Yep.”

Jo’s curiosity peaked at his abrupt answer. “Maybe Tom has finally learned his lesson.”

“Hope so.”

She struggled with the lid on the jar of peach preserves. Garrett wasn’t much of a talker first thing in the morning, but normally he didn’t mind her idle chatter. “David said you had an idea who killed Mr. Hodges?”

“Suspicions. That’s all.”

“What about your cousin, Edward?”

“He landed an army contract from Fort Ryan.” He plucked the jar from her stranglehold, easily popped the seal and handed it back. “Now that he’s flush with cash again, he figures I’m a suitable guardian.”

Jo smiled her thanks and set about making Cora’s lunch. Growing up, she’d preferred being outside or in the barn caring for the animals. Lately, though, especially at times like this, she enjoyed the simple pleasure of sharing a quiet moment with Garrett.

Marriage was a lonely business. “Mrs. Fletcher said her husband has a milk cow he’d be willing to sell.”

“That’s a lot of work. There might be days when I’m gone, and I won’t be able to help out.”

Reaching for Cora’s lunch pail, Jo considered his answer. “I bet Abraham could use some pocket money. Do you want me to ask if he’ll come by once in a while for chores? I can pay him from my salary at the telegraph office.”

“I have enough money.”

While Jo didn’t want to jeopardize this rare bout of comfortable chatter, a question had been gnawing at her since the wedding. “Mrs. Fletcher said this was the first two-story house built in Kansas.”

Garrett poured twin mugs of coffee from the blue enamel pot on the stove. “And she’s wondering how a poor county marshal can afford such a fine house.”

“Something like that.” Jo felt her cheeks flush beneath his steady regard. “I told her to mind her own business.”

“Empty houses sell cheap.” Garrett passed her the steaming mug. “A drifter doesn’t need much. I’ve built up some savings over the years.”

“I didn’t mean to pry. But I’m prepared to pay my fair share. Not enough for the house, of course, but I can help with expenses.”

“You spend your money how you please. I’ve got enough to keep us set for a while.” He named a sum that had her eyes widening.

Jo tittered nervously. “I can’t believe you didn’t starve. You can’t have spent anything.”

All her life she’d worried about money—the McCoys never had much. It was odd to think she’d changed her financial status simply by marrying. It felt like cheating. Then again, there weren’t many chances for a woman to make money. And she definitely held her own with her share of the work and chores.

Jo sliced bread for sandwiches and slathered them with peach preserves. Behind her, Garrett knelt and retrieved his lunch pail from the bottom cupboard.

Their movements turned familiar, almost practiced, yet Jo felt as though she was playacting—like Cora and her dolls serving a make-believe tea party. There were times like this, when she felt as if her new life wasn’t real. She could simply walk out the door and go back to her room at the boardinghouse and no one would even know the difference.

Jo shook her head. Cora would notice.

She glanced around the tidy kitchen, and her chest tightened. Freshly whitewashed cupboards and bead-board trim brightened the room, a perfect backdrop for the wedding gifts lining the shelves. Blue creamware pitchers, plates and opaque glasses stood beside the few brightly colored tins of spices she’d bought from the general store. On the walls, Garrett had hung the copper pots in a line by size. Jo figured that’s why they got along so well. They both enjoyed order and routine.

He reached for the knife resting on the counter before her, and his arm brushed her shoulder. His hand drifted down and covered her fingers, and the air between them sparked like flint rocks. He reached his other arm around her back and gently crowded her against the counter.

Tucking his chin in the curve of her shoulder, he said, “You’re cutting the slices too thin. Let me show you.”

He guided her fingers over the handle of the knife and braced his other hand on the crusty loaf, then directed her motions.

“That’s as thick as two slices.” She laughed at the enormous cut he’d taken.

“You have five brothers. Surely you know a man needs more to eat than two thin slices of bread and a slather of jam.”

Jo inhaled his dizzying scent. As large as the house was, living together beneath the same roof had driven them into closer and closer contact. It seemed inevitable they’d eventually be forced to touch each other.

He shifted and positioned the knife over the bread again. His skin was dark against hers and his hands coarse from years of labor. She’d never liked her own hands—they were rough and chapped and her nails never grew beyond the tips of her fingers. But next to Garrett’s, they appeared almost delicate.

She wondered if she turned her head, would he kiss her. Her stomach tightened.

“Why are you smiling?” he said, his breath tickling her ear.

Embarrassed by the turn of her thoughts, Jo kept her attention focused on the counter. “What do you think about chickens?”

His chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled. “You’re full of surprises, Mrs. Cain.”

Blood rushed in her ears and she felt almost dizzy. She forgot sometimes she had a different name, but she liked the way he spoke it with his gravelly morning voice.

He carefully sliced another chunk of bread. “I like chickens. I like eggs in the morning. I like barn cats and watchdogs. Any other animals you’d like for your menagerie? How about a goat?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What do you have against goats?”

“It’s a long story.” Jo smiled.

“What about sheep?”

“Definitely sheep. My pa would be so proud. His family raised sheep for wool back in Ireland.”

“We’ll knit the whole town sweaters for the winter.”

“Even Mr. Stuart?”

“Especially Mr. Stuart. He doesn’t have enough meat on his bones to keep him warm in the winter.”

Garrett spun her around, pulled her into his embrace, and belted out,
“My wild Irish Rose, the sweetest flower that grows,”
in a low, pleasant baritone.

While she giggled, he whirled her through the kitchen in a clumsy waltz.
“You may search everywhere, but none can compare with my wild Irish Rose.”

Giddy with his infectious joy, Jo followed his lead. She’d never seen him behave with such abandon. They crashed into a chair and sprang apart. Smiling, Jo smoothed her hair. “You’re usually so quiet in the morning, and here you are singing and dancing around the kitchen. What’s gotten into you, Mr. Cain?” she said, mirroring the use of his name.

Appearing flustered, he reached for the overturned chair. “I don’t know what came over me. Must have been all that talk of chickens.”

He flushed, avoiding her gaze. Her lips tightened. While she’d enjoyed their spontaneous fun, Garrett appeared almost embarrassed by their shared enjoyment. Before she could voice her confusion, she caught sight of Cora at the top of the stairs.

“Did we wake you with our silliness?” Jo called.

The door closed behind her and Jo glanced over her shoulder. Garrett had fled. From past experience she knew he’d be quiet for the next few days. She clenched her jaw. If he was ashamed of her, he shouldn’t have married her.

She recalled his words all those weeks ago—
I’m not capable of love
.

He’d lied to her.

She saw how he behaved with Cora, with his animals. He was more than capable of love. Which begged the question, why couldn’t he love
her?
Though she’d vowed to let him keep his secrets, she didn’t know how much longer she could take his changeable behavior.

She caught Cora’s curious gaze. “It’s almost time for your lessons. Why don’t you get dressed.”

Twenty minutes later Jo knelt before Cora and adjusted her collar. “It was nice of Mrs. Harper to help you with your numbers and letters over the summer. Are you enjoying your lessons?”

Cora clasped her hands. “I like it here. Maxwell is my best friend. I still miss my old room. I miss my mommy and daddy.”

“Oh, baby.” Tears pooled in Jo’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I like you. I like Uncle Garrett.”

“I know. You can like us and miss your parents at the same time.”

The little girl’s brow furrowed. “Grandma said that, too.”

“Grandma Edith is smart.” Jo held out her hand for their morning walk. “She’d like you to stay overnight tonight.” Her voice lowered. “Just between you and me, I think she’s lonely. With David gone and the other boys spending so much time in the fields, the house is quiet. And Maxwell wants to show you his new dog.”

The little girl grinned and eagerly nodded. Edith McCoy had fallen hopelessly in love with her new grandchild, and the feeling was obviously mutual. The two enjoyed their time together, and Jo encouraged the interaction. It brought them all together as a family. Cora needed plenty of love, and the McCoys had plenty of love to give.

Stepping outside, Jo glanced left and right. The street from their house curved right toward Cimarron Springs, and she adjusted her leather hat against the sun. While she’d made certain concessions toward a more feminine wardrobe, she wasn’t giving up her gifted hat. The days were growing longer and hotter, though not intolerable just yet. Thankfully, a wet spring had turned into a stunningly beautiful early summer. The countryside bloomed with wildflowers and the creek bed swelled.

Garrett had offered to hitch the wagon for her, but she and Cora preferred the walk. By the time they arrived in town, a fine sheen of perspiration covered Jo’s forehead.

She squeezed Cora’s hand. “Tomorrow let’s take the wagon. It’s getting hotter than baking day.”

Cora nodded with a grimace.

Jo left Cora in the teacher’s capable hands, passed the boardinghouse and paused outside the marshal’s office. Garrett felt something for her, she knew he did, and she deserved answers for his behavior. Gathering her courage, she lifted her hand, then paused midknock.

Bearding a lion in its den was never a good idea. If she confronted him before David, he’d turn defensive. She’d lived her whole life surrounded by men and had discovered a few things along the way.

She’d let Garrett work. But tonight, with Cora gone, they were going to talk. And this time she’d make certain he couldn’t run away.

She’d glue him to the chair if need be.