The Marshal's Ready-Made Family (10 page)

And her brothers.

“Jo—” Marshal Cain began.

He’d caught the crowd’s droning. She could see it in his resigned gaze.

She held her hand over his mouth and silenced his denial. “I know what you’re going to say, but you don’t have to.” The last thing she wanted was his sympathy. “We can explain this. I’ll say I saw the fire and went in to help with Cora.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t protest further, but she saw the emotions flashing in his eyes. By dawn, everyone in town would know she’d been in Marshal Cain’s rooms.

Alone.

After midnight.

Her presence put the marshal in an impossible situation. If word got out that he’d left his niece alone, and Cora had nearly died in a fire, he’d be vilified. If he admitted Jo had been there, her reputation was ruined.

She’d fight her own battles, but she couldn’t let the marshal take the blame for something over which he had no control. He’d do the honorable thing, she had no doubt of that. Too bad she already knew how he felt about marriage to her.

“Don’t worry about the talk,” she spoke over her tender throat, wishing the night would end soon. “No one sees me as a girl anyway,” she added. “What they say won’t matter.”

He glanced around the crowded street. “I don’t count myself a prideful man, but I do have my honor.”

Her gut twisted. She feared he’d say that.

Then again, what did it matter about his reputation? If she refused his impending offer of marriage, the censure would remain with her. People were hypocritical that way. According to society, succumbing to temptation was a man’s prerogative and a woman’s shame.

For the first time in a very long time, she was stumped. Was Marshal Cain better off if they married, or better off if she spurned his proposal? If only her thoughts weren’t as thick as day-old gravy.

He’d lost so much. Jo had her whole family. Marshal Cain was a solitary man who’d suffered more than his fair share of tragedy. All he had left was little Cora, his pride and the respect of his community. Garrett was too honorable for his own good, even though she admired him for his chivalrous ways.

“They’ll blame me, not you.” She grasped for an argument even as her strength sapped away. “You can go on as though nothing happened.”

“Do I have any say in the matter?” he asked gently.

Jo knew where this was leading, and she desperately needed more time. “We don’t have to make any decisions tonight.”

“Not tonight, no,” he replied, his voice low and his face turned away from the curious bystanders. “But morning will come soon, and if I’m not mistaken, so will your pa.”

Jo’s head throbbed. Her pa wasn’t likely to listen to reason. “I’m a grown woman.”

“Trust me, you’ll always be his little girl.”

Confusion swirled in her brain. She had asked him to marry her for practical reasons, and he’d balked. Now they were stuck in an absurd misunderstanding and she didn’t trust her own motivations. Her pride still smarted from his rejection, and she couldn’t let him see her weakness.

She’d give him an opening and gauge his reaction. If he wanted the marriage, she’d know by his answers. “I’m a strong woman, Garrett Cain, stronger than words and gossip.”

She wanted to say more, had more reasons and arguments, but her stomach pitched. The events of the evening were catching up with her stamina, and she desperately wanted to close her eyes and rest.

They stared at each other for a long moment, cocooned in their own world. The townspeople bustled around them. She remained detached from the commotion. Their voices faded, as though she had cotton in her ears. Jo studied his somber expression, searching for answers.

“Believe me,” she continued, keeping her voice as bright as her chafed throat permitted. “People’s memories are short. They’ll forget about tonight soon enough. We’ll act as though nothing happened and eventually there’ll be something else fit for gossip.”

“I won’t forget.” Garrett jerked his chin over one shoulder. “And I will face your pa an honorable man.”

“I hope he doesn’t bring any of my brothers,” she joked weakly.

They both smiled, though neither mustered a laugh. Even the slightest movement jarred her aching head, sending jolts of pain exploding through her skull.

Marshal Cain doffed and his hat and stared at her, his expression intense. “We suit each other. Circumstances have brought us together, and I think we could get along fine. You said it yourself—we both love Cora.”

Weakly lifting her arm, Jo placed two fingers over his lips. If only she weren’t so sluggish, she’d argue him out of his hasty decision. “Think about what you’re doing.”

He clasped her fingers and cradled her hand in his own against his chest. “JoBeth McCoy, will you marry me?”

She took a breath, and her vision blurred. Offering up a quick prayer for a reprieve, she worked her throat. She just had to hold on for another few seconds. “Maybe.”

Chapter Eleven

“O
uch.” Jo yanked her hand away and shook her wrist.

Garrett tossed her a withering stare. “I have to change the dressing or this will get infected. Now stop fussing or you’ll wake Cora.”

They sat across from each other in the cozy boardinghouse parlor. Jo’s mother, Edith, was upstairs sitting with Cora, and the sounds of breakfast clattered from the kitchen. They weren’t quite alone but at least they had a modicum of privacy.

“I’m not fussing,” Jo said, dutifully lowering her voice. “Where’s the doc, anyway?”

“Busy.” Garrett cradled her palm in his hands. “Now sit still.”

Exhausted and grumpy, Jo slouched in her chair. Garrett bent over her hand, and she stared at the top of his head. An unexpected urge to run her fingers through his shiny hair gripped her, and she bolted upright. The color reminded her of a buttery-soft bolt of brown corduroy she’d seen in the mercantile.

“Sit still,” Garrett gently scolded. “Or this will hurt even more.”

Their gazes tangled, and Jo offered a hesitant nod.

He ducked his head. “Don’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I knew about the lock. I should have said something.”

A pall fell over his expression, and her chest ached in sympathy. Today his hair curled around his ears, and she realized he needed a haircut. The stubble covering his chin had darkened from the previous evening and there were shadows beneath his eyes. He needed a shave.

He’d also take the blame for her injuries no matter what she said.

Jo stifled a grimace as he ministered to her hand. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

His gaze flicked away.

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t distract me,” he ordered gruffly.

“If I sit still, will you have a rest this afternoon?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t take naps.”

Jo rolled her eyes.

Garrett cleared his throat. “You never answered my question.”

“Which question?” She teased, knowing full well what he meant.

“Jo,” he said in a tone indicating his patience was thin.

“Maybe nobody noticed me last night.” She avoided answering directly. She wasn’t sure which answer he’d prefer.

Her comment earned a dry chuckle. “Even you don’t believe that.”

“The answer is yes,” Jo whispered.

His shoulder sagged and if Jo didn’t know better, she’d say he was relieved. She reached out and tentatively touched the scar along his eyebrow.

She’d buy them some time and think of a way out later. “How did you get this?”

He touched his forehead, and their fingers brushed together. Something fierce and insistent vibrated in the air between them. Mesmerized by his coffee-colored eyes, the painful throbbing in her hand faded.

Garrett captured her wrist and turned her hand palm up. “That scar is from the time I fought a grizzly with nothing but a peashooter and my wits.”

“You did not.” Jo laughed. He peeled off the last layer of bandage and she squealed. “That hurt!”

“And now it’s over.”

He had secrets. Those secrets had carved lines of worry into his weathered face. “Tell me the real way you got that scar.”

A cynical smile twisted his lips. “I got it because I was too young and too stupid to know better.”

“I won’t let you bandage this until you tell me the truth.” Jo fisted her hand. “And I’m very stubborn.”

“That’s one of my favorite things about you.”

He stared into the distance, as though gathering himself. A chill raised the hair on the nape of her neck.

She’d gone and done it again. Hammered him with the blunt end of her curiosity.

Before she could retract her demand, he spoke. “My parents died and there wasn’t much money left after we paid off the mortgages he’d taken against the house. He was a physician, a decorated veteran of the War Between the States.”

Garrett paused, collecting himself. “I found work on the docks. They always needed strong backs to unload cargo and they didn’t care how old you were. One day I was hooking up a shipping crate and the chain snapped. It barely grazed me. Still split my face clean open.”

Using her free hand, Jo rubbed the pad of her thumb over the scar. “That must have hurt.”

“Like the dickens.” He held still beneath her ministrations. “The foreman stitched me up right on the dock and I went back to work.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Garrett blinked. “For what?”

“All of my life I’ve had family around. If the boys at school teased me, my brothers rallied around. If I got hurt, my ma held my hand.” Jo paused, fighting a rush of emotion. “I’m sorry you didn’t have someone to take care of you.”

His expression faltered for a moment before his easy grin returned. “I don’t need taking care of. And we had some family. My uncle took us in after that. Deirdre stayed on after I went West.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

He’d effectively closed the subject, but she’d seen a glimpse of the real man and she hungered for more. “What were your parents like?”

“Just parents.”

He lifted a shoulder and drew in a deep breath. She sensed he was gathering his courage, as though he wanted to say more. She let the silence stretch out, waiting. After a moment, her patience won out.

Garrett exhaled. “I look at Tom’s boy and I hurt for him. I wish Tom knew how hard it was on his boy with all that arguing in the house.”

Jo might not be as intuitive as her ma, but even she realized he’d revealed something very personal about himself.

Her throat burned. “Tom’s parents were the same way when he was growing up. That’s all he knows.” Jo winced as Garrett rubbed salve onto her cut. “Why do you suppose some people change and others don’t?”

“Maybe they don’t change. Maybe they just cover up who they really are.”

“You don’t think people can overcome their faults?”

“Doesn’t seem likely.”

Jo considered all the people in her life. How many bad habits were passed down from generation to generation without pause? Did she really know anyone who’d changed for good? She couldn’t think of a single soul, yet she desperately wanted an example for Garrett.

She sensed the gravity of his statement, and the weight of her next words. “People can change if they want to. I think that’s the difference. Tom doesn’t see anything wrong with what he’s doing, which means he’s not likely to do anything different.”

“Name one person you know who actually succeeded in changing.”

Jo searched her memory and snapped her fingers. “Jack Elder.”

“That the fellow who married the widow?”

“Yep. Jack changed. He didn’t want a family, he didn’t want to settle down. But once he met Elizabeth and her baby, he changed. He fell in love.”

She expected Garrett to laugh, or at least make a joke at her example. Her brothers certainly would have mocked her. Instead, he remained silent as he unraveled a length of bandage and knotted the fabric around her hand.

He tucked his knuckles beneath her chin and angled her face toward the light, studying the wound on her cheek. “The doc says you shouldn’t have a scar.”

To her disappointment, he didn’t appear swayed by her example. “Would you mind very much if I had a scar?” Jo dredged up a smile, attempting to lighten the somber mood. “Would you be upset if I was ugly?”

Garrett lifted a dark eyebrow. “You could never be ugly.”

“I could never be pretty.”

“That’s because pretty is for debutantes and silly girls. You’re beautiful.”

Resentment welled in her chest. “I’m not. And I’ll sock you for teasing me.”

“Don’t you call me a liar, Miss JoBeth McCoy.” Garrett cupped the side of her face with his warm hand and studied her bandaged cheek. “Do you know why Tom is so mean to you?”

“Because I made him look like a fool in front of his friends.”

“Nope.” Garrett removed the comfort of his touch. “Because you broke his heart.”

“I think you musta hit your head last night.”

“Don’t forget, I was a young man once, too. I know the signs.”

“I sure wasn’t Tom’s first anything.”

“Did he ever try and kiss you?” Garrett asked with a knowing grin.

“Once. I stomped on his toe.”

“That’s your proof. A man will forgive being made a fool of, but he never forgets his first love.”

Jo scoffed. ”If he had a crush on me, wouldn’t he be nice?”

“Boys aren’t always good at knowing what to do with their feelings.”

Her head spun with his words and she latched on to his earlier comment. “Who was your first love?”

“I never had one.”

“Then you don’t really know for certain. And you’re wrong about Tom. He’s told me I’m ugly a thousand times.”

“I’m right,” Garrett declared. “And someday I’ll prove it to you. Just like I’ll finally make you realize how beautiful you are.”

“Quit foolin’ with me.”

“For a smart woman, you’re awfully dumb about some things.” Garrett coasted the backs of his knuckles along her bruised cheek. “The doc stitched this up nicely. Does it hurt very much?”

“Nope.”

Her gaze dipped to his lips, and Jo tilted her head. The last time she’d been kissed had left her singularly unimpressed, and she wanted a comparison.

Before she could talk herself out of the impulsive gesture, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Garrett’s. Aching for more, but fearful of being rejected, she pulled away. A gentle touch on her shoulder stilled her retreat. Garrett angled his head, deepening the kiss, and Jo gasped softly.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, astonished at the soft texture. Her heart fluttered in anticipation, and a curious longing surged through her veins. Jo slid her hands behind his head and tugged him closer.

He cradled the back of her neck and he stroked her jaw with his thumb. The sweet awareness growing inside her heightened. His gentle touch felt good and right and she didn’t want the wondrous feelings to end.

With a soft sound of regret, he pulled away. Jo pressed two fingers against her swollen lips, mourning the loss of her startling discovery.

Garrett hastily stood. “You’re healing really well. I don’t think you’ll have any problems.”

The shadows were back in his eyes. He strode out of the room, and Jo stomped her foot. The one time she’d finally decided she liked kissing, and her partner had fled.

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze. He felt something for her, but she sensed he was frightened and she didn’t know why.

No matter what the personal cost, she was going to pry his secrets loose.