The Marshal's Ready-Made Family (15 page)

Jo titled her head. “Is something else wrong?”

“I wanted a minute to talk with you.” Shadows played across his face. “While Cora is sleeping.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry. About earlier today. At the corral.”

Jo grasped his arm. “I’m not.”

“We agreed to get married for Cora’s sake, to give her a family. I forgot myself, and I apologize for that. We agreed this was a partnership, a friendship, and I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.”

“Does this have something to do with Flynn’s visit?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve been different since he came along.”

“I’ve just been thinking, that’s all. Do you really want to get married?”

He was doing it again, running hot and cold. She should be used to his changing attitude by now, but she wasn’t. “Are you sore at me?”

“No, of course not.” He swiveled on the bench seat and grasped her shoulders. “I care about you, Jo. And I want what’s best for you. We’ve been treating this whole thing like we don’t have any other choice. But there’s always a choice. If I leave, the gossip will die down soon enough.”

His sudden change of heart wasn’t about the two of them—this was about Flynn. The solicitor had said something that spooked him. “Did Flynn threaten you?”

“Of course not. This has...this has nothing to do with him. Maybe we were taking the easy way out. We can say we fought. I can say you called off the marriage. I’ll take the blame.”

He had secrets, but he was a good man. Jo knew it in her heart. Whatever Flynn held over him, she didn’t care. Nothing could change her mind about the man she’d agreed to marry. “What do
you
want?”

The agonizing question stretched out between them while crickets chirped in an early-summer chorus. Jo clutched her hands together and waited. She’d thought they were growing closer. They talked together, they laughed together, he’d held her close and kissed her until she was breathless.

Another thought brought her up short. Unless he hadn’t enjoyed their time together. Perhaps his indecision had nothing to do with Flynn’s arrival, and everything to do with the kisses they’d shared.

Garrett shifted. “I want to do the right thing, but I don’t know which choice is right.”

“What’s the best choice for Cora?”

“You are,” he answered immediately, “You’re the best thing for her. She loves you, and I don’t want her to lose any more than she already has.”

Jo’s ma had accused her of being selfish. Was she? After all, she’d moved into town rather than take over the midwife’s duties.

She wasn’t the kind of girl men courted—she’d known that from the beginning. He’d wanted a partnership; she was the one who’d wanted more. If he wanted a friend, she’d be a friend. They’d go back to the way things were.

Jo studied the purple-tinted twilight sky and gathered her nerve.

She touched his leather-clad hand, heartened by the almost imperceptible tremble she felt in his fingers. “Then let’s do what’s right for Cora, and never mind about anything else.”

“Okay.” Garrett spoke so quietly she wasn’t even certain she’d heard him correctly.

Each tentative step she’d taken forward had been met with resistance. He’d called her beautiful, and then he’d pulled away. She feared this power he held over her. His embrace left her feeling exuberant and capable, his rejection shook her faith
.

Jo squared her shoulders. She’d pull away, too, just as Garrett had. She refused to let him hurt her anymore.

Chapter Seventeen

T
he house stood a half mile from the edge of town, a two-story white clapboard with a gabled roof and whitewashed picket fence. According to local gossip, the home had been empty for over a year since the Millers had moved to Denver.

Garrett yanked at the overgrown weeds until he found the gate hook. The fence had collapsed in two places and several of the boards were rotted through. He surveyed the sparse lawn and unlocked the front door with the rusted key he’d acquired from the lawyer, then pried open the stiff hinges. The dank, moldy smell of disuse triggered an unexpected jolt of melancholy.

How quickly abandonment turned to disrepair. Houses were meant to be lived in. A spindly chair rested on its side, and Garrett lifted it upright. Lulled by the quiet, he meandered around the sprawling floor plan, weaving his way through the sitting room, parlor, dining room and finally the kitchen.

He took the back steps to the second floor and discovered three good-size bedrooms devoid of furniture. The floorboards creaked as he crossed the spacious hallway and glanced out the window toward the rolling hills. Someone had planted a brace of poplar trees, and they’d grown as high as the second-floor eaves. An excellent windbreak.

Garrett rested his hands on the dusty sill. He wanted to ensure the house was sound before Jo arrived. Despite his good intentions, he’d hurt her last evening. She didn’t understand and he couldn’t offer an explanation without dredging up the past.

A train whistle sounded, and Garrett caught sight of the 3:15 from Wichita on the horizon. Everything was going according to plan, yet he couldn’t shake his unease.
Nothing good ever lasted long.

Garrett shook off the odd feeling. The train posed no danger. It was just another passenger train, just another group of weary travelers stopping for lunch on the way to someplace else. Families seeking a better life, soldiers transferring West, adventurers itching for their next exploit. Flynn’s arrival had shaken him, that’s all. And for good reason.

The country was shrinking. Each new set of rail tracks brought the coasts closer together. Once the Union and the Central Pacific rail lines had joined, there was no going back. The moment two merging railroads had driven in the golden stake at Promontory Summit, they’d forged the destiny of a nation.

A man couldn’t hide anymore.

Garrett turned away from the window, but the sense of unease followed him. He’d run out of places to hide. How long before his past caught up with him?

* * *

Jo rested her chin on the rounded tip of the broom handle. She’d steeled herself against her attraction, and so far it had worked.

She and Garrett were getting along well, pretending nothing had sparked between them. “This isn’t so bad.”

Garrett sat back on his heels and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Could be worse.”

They’d been working since dawn, scrubbing floors and walls and trim. Beneath a year and a half of neglect they’d uncovered a relatively sound house. “If we paint tomorrow, I can oil the floors on Thursday.”

“I’ll help.” Garrett ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

“Can you take that much time away from the town?”

He rose and dusted his hands together. “About that. What do you think of David as a permanent deputy?”

Scratching beneath the red bandanna she’d knotted over her hair, Jo considered his announcement. “I never thought about it. I figured he’d move to Wichita. He spends enough time there.”

“He needs work. He’s not a farmer like Caleb.”

Jo lifted the broom and dusted the cobwebs hanging in the corner of the spacious dining room. “I still think he’ll opt for Wichita.”

“He’ll stay.”

“How can you be so certain?”

Garrett cleared his throat.

Stifling a sneeze, Jo dropped the broom and caught his guilty expression before he quickly turned away. “You’re keeping a secret. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying. I can tell.” Brandishing her broom, she pointed the bristles at his chest. “Tell me or I’ll cover you in cobwebs.”

Garrett held up his hands. “He’s been spending more time at the mercantile than Caleb.”

Her hands went slack and the bristles hit the floor, stirring a plume of dust. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” Garrett dropped his arms. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, talk to them. Mary Louise isn’t worth fighting over.”

“It’s none of our business. But I suspect she’s got a shine for David.”

Jo groaned. “Then someone should talk with Mary Louise.”

“Leave it alone. Anything you or I say will only make things worse. This has to play out on its own.”

“Fine. But don’t you think he’s awfully young for all that responsibility?”

“You lost me.” Garrett frowned. “Did we change subjects?”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“David is young, but he’ll learn. I was an army scout at seventeen.”

She tried to imagine Garrett as a young man. Wide-eyed and innocent. The picture didn’t form. “What was that like?”

“Hot in the summer, cold in the winter and hungry year-round.”

“A dockworker at fifteen, an army scout at seventeen. You’ve led a full life, Garrett Cain.”

A call from the second floor interrupted her next question. Jo dashed toward the stairs. “Cora?”

The little girl appeared at the head of the stairs. “I found another mice nest.”

Propping her broom against the wall, Jo grimaced. “I’ll come and take a look. That’ll be the fourth one we’ve found so far.”

She took the stairs two at a time and followed Cora into the smallest of the upstairs rooms. The house was a basic foursquare, with a master suite, two good-size bedrooms and a utility space all grouped around an open landing.

Cora knelt before a cupboard and pointed. Sure enough, a soft nest of wool, leaves and a bright length of orange yarn nestled in the corner.

Garrett’s footsteps sounded behind her. “More mice?”

Glancing over her shoulder, Jo nodded. “I think we should consider taking one of Maxwell’s kittens.”

“I don’t like animals in the house.” Garrett knelt beside her. “But I guess I’d rather have a cat than mice.”

“The cat can stay in the house while we finish cleaning up. She can stay in the barn after that.”

As he leaned in for a closer look, their shoulders brushed together. Garrett reached around her, and Jo leaned into his arm. He scooted back and she leaned the opposite direction, crowding him, forcing the contact. He wasn’t immune to her, she knew it, felt it in her bones. Yet each time she initiated even the lightest touch, he pulled away.

It was wrong, it was dangerous, and she couldn’t help herself.

Her reluctant fiancé sat back on his heels. “Sounds like a good compromise to me.”

Though they didn’t touch, he remained only a breath away. Warmth rushed through her veins, and her pulse quickened. The memory of their last kiss sent a shiver down her spine. She recalled the feel of his shoulders, the corded muscles against her fingertips.

Cora danced on the balls of her feet. “Can I pick the kitten? Please?”

Garrett rubbed his chin. “I suppose.”

The little girl glanced around the tiny space with its single bank of whitewashed cupboards. “What’s this room?”

“A nursery,” Garrett replied.

Jo’s legs quaked. If this were a real marriage, she’d have added curtains, and her mother would have passed on the hand-carved bassinet from her grandmother.

The realization sank through her body like a stone, dragging down her spirits. Emotions flickered across Garrett’s face, and she wondered if he felt the same loss, the same disappointment.

Suddenly chilled, she wrapped her arms around her body. “This would make a better playroom for you than a nursery.”

Garrett flinched and turned away.

Cora stepped between them, jerking Jo’s thoughts back to the present.

“Which room is mine?” the little girl asked.

“You can pick,” Garrett replied, his voice hoarse. “I guess Jo gets the biggest room.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jo ran her finger along the window sash. There’d be no need for curtains at all, not for a playroom. “You can have the larger room.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Fine then.” She turned, but couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. “I’ll take the room at the head of the stairs.”

Anything to end this painful conversation.

“How come you’re not sharing?” Cora asked. “My mommy and daddy shared a room.”

Jo sputtered, and Garrett coughed.

“Well.” She cringed. “There are so many rooms, there’s no need for any of us to share.”

Jo snatched the bandanna from her head and rubbed the perspiration from the back of her neck. “You can pick the kitten. We can go next weekend.”

“Today.” Garrett spoke a notch too loudly. “We could leave right now.”

Jo giggled at the absurdity of it all. The tension in the room eased at her outburst, and she and Garrett backed away from each other, putting space between them. Separating them from the swirl of emotions permeating the cramped room.

Garrett caught her amused expression, and a smile spread across his face. “Maybe it’s time for a break.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Jo remained in the room long after they’d both returned downstairs. There was no going back now. Even if she refused the marriage, where did that leave her? Back to her room at the boardinghouse, back to her job each morning, back to Sunday dinners at home.

The boys would bring home their new brides, and soon the babies would follow.

A baby.

It was like a revelation, this sudden driving need. Worse yet, it had appeared out of the thin blue sky with no warning. She’d long ago given up the thought of a family of her own. Standing with Garrett, imagining the nursery decorated as it was intended, she’d been rocked with a need stronger than anything she’d ever known.

Alone, her future was certain. Married, there was always a glimmer of hope. Perhaps through the years he’d come to see her as more than a tomboy. More than a companion.

She’d thought marrying someone out of friendship was the easy solution.

Turned out there were no shortcuts in life.

Chapter Eighteen

S
tunned, Jo focused on her image in the looking glass. “Is that really me?”

Beatrice fluffed her veil and let the lace settle around her shoulders like a gossamer mantle. “You’re lovely.”

A gasp sounded from the far side of the room and Jo turned. Her mother stood in the doorway, one hand clutching Cora’s and the other covering her mouth.

“Oh, my goodness,” Edith said, her voice watery with emotion. “How? When?”

Jo pleated her ivory skirts with two fingers. “This is the dress Elizabeth left for me. Beatrice took the lace off the collar and we left the pin tucks.”

“But what about the dress from the mercantile?” Her ma took a hesitant step forward, her arm outstretched. “And your hair.”

“Beatrice arranged it for me this morning.” Jo touched the elaborate knot at the base of her neck. “How do I look?”

“Lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

For once, Edith McCoy didn’t look pressed and polished. Her ma had obviously dressed quickly that morning and a loose end of her shirttail hung limply beneath the bodice of her best Sunday dress. Her hair had been whipped into a serviceable braid and wrapped around her head, but one loose end trailed down her shoulder. She appeared more frazzled than Jo could ever recall seeing her.

“Ma, why don’t you have a seat.” Jo hooked her arm beneath the dazed woman’s elbow. “You were up all night with Mrs. Hendrick’s newborn. Didn’t the doc’s wife come by? She said she was going to help when the time came.”

“She was dear,” Edith replied with a distracted nod. “She trained as a nurse back East, you know.”

“Pa said everything went all right.”

“I couldn’t leave the poor thing alone. Her husband had his hands full with the two little ones and she was frightened something would happen to the new baby. She’s still terrified since the last one was stillborn.”

“That’s why we let you sleep.” Jo pressed her finger against a poking hairpin near her ear.

Beatrice slapped away her hand. “You’ve got ten more minutes. Stop wiggling.”

“But it hurts.”

With an air of long suffering, Beatrice adjusted the pin. “That better?”

“Yes.” Jo scratched at the sore spot. “Beauty is painful.”

“And your veil,” her ma added breathlessly. “Is that your grandmother’s veil?”

“Don’t you remember? You sent it over yesterday.”

“I know, but I thought...I thought
I’d
help you get ready.” A fine sheen of tears formed in her ma’s eyes.

Unsure of the cause of Edith’s distress, Jo awkwardly patted her hand. “I did just fine on my own.”

Her ma choked out a sob.

“Uh...” Jo hesitated. Everything she said made the situation worse.

Beatrice clucked and steered the distressed woman before the looking glass. “You look a bit windblown from the ride. Why don’t I fix your braid and give those cheeks a pinch of color.”

“My cake didn’t turn out,” her ma moaned as Beatrice fussed around her, smoothing her hair and brushing the dust from her jacket. “It’s too hot and the frosting melted. It looks like one of Maxwell’s mud pies.”

“I’m sure it tastes fine,” Jo chimed in helpfully.

“And I didn’t fix the lemonade,” Edith continued without pause. “Now we’ll be stuck with Mrs. Stuart’s lemonade and she never puts in enough sugar.”

“I’ll have the boys sneak in an extra cup.”

Edith remained limp beneath Beatrice’s ministrations. “I wanted today to be special for you.”

“It is special.” Jo stood behind her ma and met her gaze in the mirror. “Now, stop worrying.”

Her ma whirled and squeezed Jo until the tiny pearl buttons bit into her back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jo groaned, and her ma loosened her hold and held her at a distance. “You look beautiful. You look just like your grandmother.”

Jo grimaced at the dim memory she held of her paternal grandmother, a squat woman with dark, bushy eyebrows. “I guess I didn’t know Grandma McCoy when she was young.”

“Not her!” Edith lightly swatted Jo’s shoulder. “
My
mother. She was quite a beauty in her time. Gracious, the stories they used to tell about her. Your grandfather followed her from England. He said he would have followed her around the world and back again.”

A pang of emotion fluttered in Jo’s chest. She resolutely tamped it down. This wasn’t a dime novel, this was her life, and she was facing the truth of her situation head-on. They were doing this for Cora, and the sacrifice was well worth any personal doubts. Cora was opening up, smiling and talking. She still didn’t speak of her parents or her loss. They took each good day as a blessing and each painful day as a cobblestone on the path toward healing.

A gentle knock sounded, and Mary Louise peered in. “Are you ready? Looks like the whole town turned out. They’re getting restless.”

“I’m ready.” Jo glanced down as Cora lifted a basket for her inspection. “They look like pear blossoms, don’t they?”

Cora nodded.

“I love you.” Jo grinned, then knelt and embraced the little girl in a warm hug. “Do you know you get the seat of honor during the wedding? Right between Grandma and Grandpa.”

The little girl’s cornflower-blue eyes widened, and Edith sniffled. “Come along. We’d best claim our seats.”

As Beatrice, Cora and her ma hustled from the room, Ely McCoy appeared in the doorway. He wore his finest navy suit, pressed and cleaned for the occasion. He’d even trimmed his mustache and shaved his beard for the occasion. When she’d seen him early that morning, he’d been as bristly as a bear.

Jo gaped. “You look so...so young! Did you go to the barber?”

Ely rubbed his hand down his face, dislodging a bit of cloth covering a nick from his close shave. “Couldn’t walk my little girl down the aisle looking like a fur trapper.”

Tears prickled in Jo’s eyes as her pa pulled her into his comforting embrace.

He stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “I don’t want to muss you up now. You look as pretty as a princess.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure,” Jo lied with newly practiced ease. “More certain than I’ve ever been about anything in my life.”

Her reply wasn’t the whole truth—there were parts of her future she feared. No one need know of her unease.

“Because I’ve got the wagon hitched outside.” He jerked his thumb over one shoulder. “We could hightail it outta here.”

“Pa,” Jo warned. “Garrett Cain is a good man.”

“I know. But I’m losing my little girl. Give your old man a chance to hang on a little longer.”

“You’ll never lose me, Pa.”

“I will lose a part of you, but that’s how it’s meant to be. You grow and go your own way. It doesn’t mean it’s easy, though. I remember the first time I held you in my arms. You fit right in my hand.” He held out his arm, palm up, as though reliving the memory. “I still you see you that way.”

Jo pressed a hand against her quivering stomach. “I’m all grown up now.”

“I want you to know what a blessing you’ve been in my life. You’re the spring in my step each morning. I know you and Garrett will make a fine family together. Despite my teasing, I have a good feeling about you two. A real good feeling.”

“I don’t think Ma is too happy. She hasn’t said anything outright, but whenever the subject comes up, she pinches her lips together and inhales through her nose.”

“It’s never good for any of us when your mother gets to looking like she ate a lemon. I do know one thing—your ma wants what’s best for you.”

“
This
is what’s best for me.”

“Then you’ll have to show her, won’t you? She’ll come around.”

They linked elbows, and her pa covered her hand with his and gave her fingers a squeeze. “You know in your heart if what you’re doing is right.”

“I know, Pa.” If she said the words enough, maybe they’d come true. “I know for certain.”

Cora needed her, and Garrett needed them both.

Ely searched her face. Appearing satisfied with what he saw, he asked, “Did you get the present I left you?”

Jo lifted the hem of her skirts, revealing her brand-new cowboy boots of butterscotch-colored leather with cream floral stitching. “They’re perfect.”

“I had ʼem sent down on the train from Wichita special.”

“Aren’t you afraid of what Ma’s going to do when she finds out?”

“Why should I be?” Her pa toed open the door. “She picked them out herself.”

* * *

Garrett paced a tight circle in the tiny church vestibule, fidgeting with the red rose in his lapel. Had it only been a few short weeks since he'd sat before the reverend, absorbing the news of Deirdre’s death?

Little Maxwell tugged on his pant leg. “Do you know why bees buzz?”

“Uh, no.”

“Because they can’t whistle.”

Garrett chuckled. “That’s a good one.”

The little guy had attached himself to Garrett earlier in the day and didn’t show any signs of disappearing. “Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

“Nah. I’m okay with you. Caleb said if you were nervous I should tell you jokes. Are you nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“How come?”

“Because I want to do the right thing, and I’m not certain what that is anymore.”

Garrett considered Flynn’s advice. He should have told Jo the truth. He’d started telling her a thousand times and then stopped himself short. He craved her respect. She liked him, even trusted him. Exposing his past risked their untried friendship. Was he betraying Jo for his own peace of mind?

“I have another joke,” Maxwell announced.

Garrett nodded. “I’m listening.”

“How do you get a rooster to stop crowing on Sunday?”

“I dunno, how?”

“Eat him on Saturday.”

Garrett chuckled again. “That’s a good one, too.”

“My ma says that she hopes Jo knows what’s she’s doing, or you two are going to be miserable.”

“Your ma’s right.” Garrett thought of the one thing that had given him courage over the past weeks. “Have you ever known a time when Jo didn’t know her own mind?”

The littlest McCoy screwed up his face in concentration. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Can I come play with Cora when you and Jo are married?”

“Certainly.”

A knot of townsfolk filed through the vestibule. Ely McCoy approached the opposite door, and Garrett spun around. He didn’t want to see JoBeth before the ceremony. Not that he counted himself a superstitious man, but he wanted to wait.

“Do you have a ring?” Maxwell asked.

“Yep.” Garrett fished in his vest pocket and revealed a circlet of flat ruby stones set in gold. “What do you think? It’s been in my family for generations.”

Deirdre had insisted he keep the ring, and he was glad for once he’d listened.

“Wow.” The young boy’s eyes widened. “That’s fancy.”

Garrett ruffled Maxwell’s dark hair, then turned at the press of a hand against his shoulder.

Reverend Miller motioned. “It’s time.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Garrett nodded. “Max, I reckon we’re the two best-looking fellows in Cimarron Springs.”

“I reckon we are.”

The two joined hands and set off down the aisle. Garrett kept his attention focused on the altar. The church was packed with townspeople, and he felt their curious gazes following his progress. Voices rippled like waves with each of his steps.

Doubts crowded his thoughts. If his past was a lie, did he deserve a better future? As his steps slowed, he caught sight of the back of Cora’s head, her coronet of flowers and the yellow ribbons trailing down her back. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Cora deserved the best he could offer. Jo was a gift to each of them. He’d do right by her.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window and cast angled rainbow patterns over the wooden floor. He’d pretend his past was the blank slate he’d created in his mind. The doubts would return; they’d worm their way into his heart and soul once more, but for now he held them at bay.

For today, he’d pretend nothing chained his soul.

He caught sight of Jo at the end of the aisle, and his heart tripped. She glided toward him, hand in hand with her father, an aged lace veil draped over her thick, dark hair. From beneath the fluttering edge, he caught the elegant curve of her neck. She wore an ivory gown—simple, elegant. His heart ached at the missing braid she usually wore tossed over one shoulder.

The barest glimpse of the nape of her neck warmed his blood. His gaze swept down the length of her, taking in the graceful sweep of her dress. The bodice had a modest V neck lined with delicate pin tucking, nipped in at an impossibly slim waist. She clutched a posy of wild red roses in her hand.

Her father flipped her veil over her hair, then kissed the bloom of each cheek. Garrett’s palms dampened, and his mouth went dry.

She paused before him, and he found himself mesmerized by her rose-colored lips. The sound of someone clearing his throat sent the congregation tittering, and Garrett jerked his gaze away from Jo. Ely McCoy stared at him, one bushy eyebrow raised in censure.

Garrett flashed an abashed grin. “Sir.”

Grasping his hand, Ely leaned in and whispered, “You take care of her or you’ll answer to me.”

Garrett nodded. The older man pumped his hand in a bone-crushing grip and took his seat in the first pew with Cora and his wife. The little girl remained solemn, but she appeared brighter than she had since the fire, and Garrett took that as a sign of encouragement.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. The resonant words of the cleric echoed off the timber ceiling in solemn declaration. Garrett repeated his lines on cue and slipped the ring on Jo’s finger when the moment arrived. She glanced at the rubies and back up at him. Garrett held his breath and waited for her reaction. When she smiled her approval, the tension drained from his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he was nervous until she’d flashed her assent.

The relief remained when Reverend Miller closed his Bible and cleared his throat. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Garrett blinked.

Jo tipped back her head.

The church and all the congregants faded into the background. In that moment, only he and Jo existed. He slipped one hand around her waist, his callused fingers catching on the satin-wrapped buttons at her back. The arm clutching her bouquet lifted, and the scent of wild roses drifted through the air. For the rest of his life, he knew he’d always associate the scent with this moment.