Marrying Miss Marshal (7 page)

A long, jagged scar down the right side of the man's face left no doubt in Chas's mind that this was the same person he'd come to hate in Tucson.

The man who had killed Joseph and Julia.

Hank Lewis.

Rage roared through Chas, filling his head, pounding in his ears. His hand went to the gun at his belt—then he realized two of the men at the table closest to him had turned to stare at him. What was he doing?

Even though he'd been made deputy, he couldn't shoot a man in cold blood, out in public—he'd hang for murder, even if the scoundrel did deserve to die. He would wait until Hank Lewis went outside and then do it.

But how to stay unnoticed while he waited? Finally, he settled in one corner, waving away the bartender when the pot-bellied man approached.

Nearly an hour later, both Hank Lewis and the blond man from the café stood. Chas waited until they'd left the establishment before he got up from the small table he'd been occupying. When he pushed through the swinging doors, neither man was in sight. Rushing around the side of the building, Chas scoured the shadows, pistol in hand. Nothing.

Back into the street. Empty.

Hank Lewis was gone.

“A
man in her rooms—”

Danna craned her neck, trying to get a look at the speaker over the heads of the partygoers at the Parrott's dance.

This was the third comment she'd overheard about a person of the male persuasion being seen in her rooms.
Her. Rooms.

Which was ludicrous, because she wasn't aware any man in Calvin—or Converse County for that matter—thought of her as anything other than
The Marshal.
Certainly not as a woman, not with her job and the way she dressed.

Who had started these horrible rumors swirling around the room?

“Ah, just the woman I wanted to see.”

Danna turned at the booming voice of Joe Parrott, to find him approaching her through the crush of people with two of the other three town council members in tow.

“Mr. Parrott, lovely party. Mr. Hyer. Mr. Castlerock.” She nodded to the owners of local general store
and the Calvin Bank and Trust, respectively, both of them on the town council with Parrott. Neither man smiled at her.

“It's, ah…” Hyer started, “come to our attention there are some rumors going around about you.” He looked uncomfortable at having to speak about this.

She stifled the groan that wanted to escape, the anger that made her want to lash out at them. It wasn't
their
fault someone had started malicious gossip about her.

“I haven't had anyone up to my rooms, male or female,” she said, working hard to keep her voice level. But she must've spoken louder than she intended, because a woman nearby turned to look. Danna glared at her until she turned around.

“We mustn't have even a hint of scandal amongst the leaders of our town.” Castlerock managed to look condescending, though he didn't meet Danna's eyes. She knew he had been the only one of the four council members to vote against her appointment.

Parrott patted her shoulder, giving her a smile. “My dear, we know you are trying your best.”

Castlerock snorted softly. Danna eyed him but kept her mouth closed while she tried to think. What would Fred have done in this situation?

“If she can't maintain a good reputation, perhaps she shouldn't be marshal,” said Hyer, and Castlerock nodded agreement.

This was getting out of hand. Danna kept her voice even when she spoke, but it was not without effort. “Gentlemen, I haven't done anything inappropriate. As I'm sure this will not be the last time malicious gossip is spread about a woman in a position of authority, I would advise you to ignore it.”

Then, shaking from speaking in such an outright manner to the men holding the power to remove her from her position, she turned on her heel and escaped into the crowd.

 

Chas reined in his borrowed horse, slowing to move through the wagons and horses gathered outside the impressive ranch house. He hadn't known where the dance was to be held, but he'd managed to find a few stragglers leaving town late and follow them.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Danna had tasked him with watching over the town while she attended the dance, but he'd had a little situation and needed her.

Plus, he wanted to mingle in the crowd and see if he could spot Hank Lewis again. He'd patrolled the entire town of Calvin in the last week, become overly familiar with its three main “roads” and couple of smaller, grassy lanes. He'd memorized most of the nooks and crannies behind each store. He'd found no sign of Hank Lewis.

Each day, Chas's rage and desire for revenge had grown. He'd barely had patience to deal with the marshal, and could sense she'd been getting frustrated with him, as well. There had been no further leads about the cattle rustlers. He could no longer bring himself to care about his case. Only getting revenge on the man who had murdered Julia.

Chas took a moment to adjust his horse's saddle, eyes taking in the yard filled with buggies and horses. The dance appeared to be in full swing, with the sweet sounds of a fiddle and banjo floating over the din of many voices.

The six-shooter at Chas's waist seemed heavier than
usual. He kept touching it, reassuring himself he was ready to do this.

Even as his urge for revenge built, he'd been struggling with his conscience. He wanted to do
right,
but he also couldn't forget the promise he'd made to himself when he'd awoken on the doctor's table after Julia's death. He'd promised himself if he ever came upon the man who killed her, he'd return the favor.

Chas was out for revenge, plain and simple. Lewis deserved to die. Eye for an eye. That was biblical, wasn't it?

Chas shrugged off the distracting thoughts and approached the house.

The porch spanned the width of the house, and Chas was halfway up the steps when a shadow moved near the corner of the house. Suspicion had Chas jumping into one of the dark patches in between the rectangles of light shining from the windows. Could it be Lewis? No one with good intentions would be hiding out in the shadows instead of being inside.

Crouching close to the outside wall of the house, Chas crept toward where he'd seen the movement. Subdued voices reached his ear, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He moved closer, being careful not to make noise and get himself noticed.

“…boys are getting ready to move the cattle after they take care of this other matter. They'll have to take 'em to Rock Springs, instead of Cheyenne, or someone might notice the brands, but it shouldn't be a problem.”

Now that sounded promising for his rustling investigation. Chas settled one knee on the wood planks of the porch, giving his other leg a reprieve from the uncomfortable crouch.

“And what about the marshal?” This was a different voice, another male.

“She don't have any idea what's goin' on,” the first man replied.

Chas didn't think either of the voices was Lewis, but he couldn't ignore what he was hearing.

“Besides, the marshal's got other things to worry about. She's goin' to be tied up with the robbery. This gossip about her is an extra bonus.”

What robbery? Were these men involved in the cattle rustling?

He had no idea if they were armed, but they could be dangerous. Chas leaned his head against the wall behind him, unsure what to do. Two against one wasn't the best odds, and what if Lewis was here and he missed his chance to kill him?

Maybe if he could get a look at one of the men…

He shifted closer until he could see a boot and a dark pair of trousers. The man seemed to be leaning on the adjoining wall, around the corner, so Chas couldn't see his face, but he held an expensive-looking black bowler hat against his leg. In the dim light, Chas thought he could make out a mark of some kind—a tattoo?—on the man's wrist, but he couldn't be sure. The second man wasn't in sight at all.

Just then, two horses rode up into the yard, hooves thundering. If they approached the house, they would see Chas in his vulnerable position. He had no choice but to scramble across the wooden planks and go inside.

Once in the front door, he slipped into the crowd. There were plenty of people around. No one seemed to notice him. He skirted the room, torn between returning outside to try to find out the identities of the two
men who knew something about a robbery and cattle moving, and staying inside to find the marshal and look for Lewis.

He was concentrating so hard on his dilemma, he nearly missed the familiar dark braid on the woman with a badge on her chest.

 

Danna had sensed O'Grady the moment he walked into Parrott's front parlor, even though the room was filled with people. So many people, she was having trouble making her way toward the door.

What was the man doing here? Couldn't he follow instructions? She wanted him available for any emergencies back in town.

He'd been moody and distracted since they'd ridden out to visit the Earlys and Baileys last week, but coming to the dance tonight was outright defiance.

She wasn't sure if she was more irritated by that, or by the distance he'd been building between them. If only her awareness of him would fade, but it had only grown stronger in the past few days.

She'd spent much too long finding her hostess to thank the woman for inviting her, and now all she wanted to do was return to her rooms. She had no desire to confront her deputy right now; she could talk to him in the morning.

Other than the three town council members, hardly anyone had spoken to her all evening. She'd thought she had learned to be tough while being Fred's deputy, but she found herself close to tears at the rejection of the people who had been, if not friends, then acquaintances for the last seven years.

And now O'Grady had shown up and was blocking her exit. She didn't want to see his admiration for
Penny Castlerock or the other ladies in lovely gowns who would undoubtedly flock to him.

Unfortunately, he saw her heading toward the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked by way of greeting.

Light from the gas lamps highlighted the red in his auburn hair. Sandy stubble covered his chin, making him look disreputable and a bit dangerous. Because of the press of bodies in the crowd, she stood close enough to smell him—leather and soap and man. She didn't want to feel the tingle of awareness that trembled deep in her belly. She focused on glaring at him for not following her instructions.

“We've got a situation in town.” His gaze slid right over the top of her head, as if he was looking for someone else in the crowd. Her insides pinched to think it was the banker's daughter or someone else who he searched for. His indifference shouldn't matter to Danna, but it did.

“You couldn't handle it on your own?” If her words were on the caustic side, she hoped it couldn't be heard above the voices surrounding them.

Chas looked down at her, his eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Not this one. What say we switch places? I'll stay here and you head back to town?”

She'd been prepared to leave the party, but his request ignited her ire and made her question him. “What kind of situation are we talking about?”

“I've detained someone.” Again, his blue eyes swept the room above her head. Was the person he looked for so important he couldn't have a conversation with her?

Irritation surged and she tried to push past him. “Fine. I'm sure Miss Castlerock is around somewhere so you can admire her new gown.”

Before she could get around him, he grasped her elbow. “That's not why I came—”

“I shouldn't have said that.” She tried to shake his hand away, but he held fast to her arm.

“Dance with me, Miss Marshal.”

His demanding tone sparked something inside her like iron on a tinderbox, and she opened her mouth, but her refusal was muted when she noted the set of his jaw.

“Please,” he murmured.

Without waiting for an answer, he swept her into the crowd of dancers. Reacting quickly, in order not to be stepped on by the swirling couples, she clutched his shoulders to keep her balance. The fiddle seemed muted now, or was that the blood rushing in her ears?

Though he was only a couple inches taller than she, his very presence seemed larger. Almost protective. Like she could lean on his broad shoulders and be kept safe.

Belatedly, his hand met her waist and she jumped. No one had touched her since Fred. And how did this touch, in the middle of a crowded room, feel so intimate?

“What's the matter?” she asked, struggling to focus on her words, instead of the unsteady feeling he evoked in her.

“Do you know that man? There, in the corner—with the long blond hair?” He twirled her and she caught a glimpse of a man with stringy blond hair and a long mustache standing near the food tables in the second parlor. Her quick glance revealed he was dressed as many of the cowboys were, in their nicest denims and starched white shirts.

She shook her head in the negative. “I don't know him. Who is he?”

“I've seen him in town a couple of times. Last time with…a suspicious character.”

Danna could feel the tension in his grip; she suspected there was something he wasn't telling her. But what?

 

Chas knew he'd made a mistake the moment he took Danna in his arms. Holding her felt natural, right, the same way it had on horseback when she'd rescued him. And it scared him.

But when he'd seen Hank Lewis's crony across the room, he'd faced an irrational urge to keep her near. If Hank Lewis
was
here, anyone in the room could be in danger. Including the marshal.

If he blinked, he could imagine Danna sprawled across the floor in a pool of blood—just like Julia had been at the hand of Hank Lewis. He couldn't let that happen.

He hadn't counted on what the feel of her in his arms would do to him. The simple smell of soap and woman rose above the other smells of food and other bodies.

For a brief moment, he forgot about Hank Lewis. He couldn't stop himself from gazing upon Danna; he let his eyes roam her face from forehead to chin. She was flushed with the exertion of swinging and stomping around the dance floor. Wisps of her dark hair had come loose from her braid and curled at her temples and over her forehead. At the moment, she wasn't looking at his face, more like his shoulders, and her dark lashes contrasted with the golden skin of her cheeks. She hadn't dressed up like the other ladies here tonight, still wore her trousers.

She was vibrant.

And he wanted her as far away from Henry Lewis as he could get her.

The music ended and they stepped away from each other.

“We probably should head back to town,” she murmured, not looking at him now. “And see about this situation of yours.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

When he regained his senses, looked up again, the blond man was gone.

 

The situation was…a girl locked in one of the cells.

Danna stopped in the middle of the floor, shock holding her immobile. Dark hair, stringy from being unwashed, obscured her view of the girl's face, but the slight person huddling on the cot behind bars was certainly female, even disguised by the tattered man's shirt and trousers.