The Marshal's Ready-Made Family (20 page)

A nauseating wave of self-disgust sent pressure pulsating behind his eyes. He’d done this to her. He’d robbed her of her confidence.

She stood and snatched the blanket, folding it in a disheveled square. “Never mind.”

“No.” He reached out a hand, and she flinched. He dropped his arm against his side. “There’s something I need to do first.”

She met his gaze, her chin set at a determined angle. “I know you have secrets. I thought I could live with that, but I was wrong. And it’s not because I’m unworthy of your trust, it’s because you’re a coward.”

He reared back as though she’d struck him. “I am a coward, but I can’t change overnight.”

She hugged the tartan blanket against her chest, her smile sad and tinged with defeat. “Ironic, isn’t it? That’s all we have together. Time.”

Her voice was vulnerable, the small voice of a woman who’d wanted to please him and had been rebuffed.

A hopeless pall fell over him. He’d waited too long. He’d already run out of time with Jo.

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he following day, Jo sat at the telegraph office and seesawed a pencil between her fingers.

Can’t
or
won’t.

The words had been swirling around her head all morning. At least she’d learned one thing: rejection wasn’t fatal. She’d faced her worst fears and come out only slightly worse for wear. She pleated her new navy blue calico between two fingers.

If anything good had come of her marraige, at least her ma had stopped ribbing her about her attire. Dressing nice wasn’t so bad. And since she’d put up her hair, the grocer had ceased eyeing her as if she was going to nip an onion and run.

That definitely made her shopping trips less tense.

The 12:15 from Wichita rumbled into the station with a shrill whistle and a belch of steam. Jo stood and stretched. Her ma had said she was expecting a package today.

Edith had been awfully mysterious about the contents. Watching the passengers depart, Jo decided she needed a breath of fresh air. Or at least as fresh as the station permitted.

A smattering of passengers departed in a flurry of baggage, their feet disappearing in puffs of steam from the train’s engines. With a jaundiced eye Jo watched as they sized up the town, holding handkerchiefs to their mouths against the dusty wind. No doubt grateful this was only a stop and not their final destination.

She was turning away when a tall gentleman caught her attention. After a quick double take, she launched herself at the unaware man. “Jack Elder!”

He stumbled back a step and tightened his grip. “How are you, JoBeth?”

Releasing her hold, she backed away. He hadn’t changed much over the years. He was still tall and lean, his hair a touch grayer at the temples, and the lines on his forehead deeper.

She glanced around. “Where are Elizabeth and the boys?”

“At home. I had business in Wichita that finished up early. Thought I’d spend the night here.”

“I can’t believe Ma didn’t tell me it was you. She said she was expecting a package.”

“Well, I did bring a wedding gift.” He tipped his hat. “Let me fetch it.”

Jo shaded her eyes against the sun. Garrett had driven the wagon into town. He set the brake and hopped down. “Your ma said I should bring the wagon. Did you find this mysterious package?”

She kept her gaze focused on a point just behind his head. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her day. “I did!” Jo exclaimed. “He’s coming now.”

She turned and discovered Jack leading two men carrying a slated crate. The crate tipped and the contents bleated. After the men set it down, Jo crouched before a stamp reading Live Animals.

She straightened and planted her hands on her hips. “It’s a goat.”

“I didn’t bring the hat and coat, but—”

Jo playfully socked him in the arm and cast a glance over her shoulder. “That’s our secret.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t end up like your aunt Vicky.”

With another surreptitious glance over her shoulder at her unyielding husband, she held her index finger before her lips. “Shh.”

Garrett cleared his throat. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Garrett Cain.”

The two men exchanged a quick, single-pump handshake. “Jack Elder.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Haven’t heard much about you.”

The goat in the crate bleated again. Jo grinned. “We’d best get back to the house. I’m sure they’re all excited to see you.”

The two men easily hoisted the crate into the back of the wagon. Jo lifted her skirts and scrambled onto the platform seat. The wagon dipped as Jack entered on her right, then dipped the opposite direction as Garrett alighted. Off balance, she slid across the seat, and they bumped hips.

“Sorry,” Jo mumbled and sat stiffly upright.

She turned away and caught Jack’s startled expression. No doubt he was curious about the strained relationship between two newlyweds.

Time,
Garrett had said. She’d married a man who could never love her. She had all the time in the world.

Mustering a cheerful smile, she spoke. “I can’t wait for you to meet Cora. She’s five and the most precious thing.”

“She’ll be the same age as Maxwell and my littlest one. That’s a handful.”

“I almost wish she were. I’d know what to do. She’s too well behaved for me.”

Jack chuckled.

They chatted for the remainder of the trip, catching up on old news. Garrett sat beside her, his expression stiff and unwelcoming. When the wagon pulled before the barn on the McCoy farm, the McCoys swarmed. Jo caught up with her brother Michael and together they pried open the goat’s crate.

Michael scratched his head. “What kind of present is that?”

“It’s a joke.”

Her brother shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

He wandered off, and Garrett knelt before the animal. “I don’t get it, either.”

Jo heaved a sigh. “I used to worry that I’d end up like my aunt Vicky. She never had children, but she had a whole herd of goats. Rumor had it she dressed them in flowered hats and coats at Easter.”

“Nah. You’d dress them as soldiers.”

Jo’s smile buckled. She’d pinched her cheeks and bought a new dress, but he’d always see her as a tomboy. Her heart sank along with the last of her hope.

Cora dashed from the house. She enveloped Garrett in a hug, then offered another to Jo. “Michael says we have a goat. Does it have a name?”

“Nope. Why don’t you pick one.” Garrett grinned.

“Buttercup,” Cora declared.

“It’s an odd name for a boy goat.” Jo considered the animal. “But I think it’s perfect.”

Cora skipped away, and the goat leaped after her. Together they cavorted around the yard.

Garrett touched Jo’s arm. “Looks like Buttercup just might wind up in a coat and hat after all.”

The words from the previous day hung between them. Her mood swung between anger and despair. She’d thought they could be friends. The attraction flaring between them prevented such a simple solution.

When she saw Cora, the obvious affection they shared toward one another, despair lanced her heart. They’d married to give the little girl a secure home, a safe future. Cora had blossomed beneath their care. If things hadn’t turned out for Jo the way she’d hoped, she had no one to blame but herself for building her hopes on a rocky foundation.

She pulled her new bonnet over her head, shading her face. “I think I’ll stay here tonight. You can go home if you want.”

Hurt flickered in his eyes. Hurt and something she’d never seen before—doubt.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll fetch you in the morning.”

“I’ll walk.”

His shoulders sagged.

For a moment her resolve wavered. “Garrett.”

He turned. Their gazes met and locked, and the tension pulsated between them. A thousand possibilities fluttered through her head, and she shooed them all away.

Jo ducked her head. “Never mind.”

She’d given all she was prepared to give. He had to meet her halfway.

After Garrett’s hasty departure, the next few hours passed in a distracted blur for Jo. Jack caught them up on news of his family, regaling them with stories of his three children.

Gradually, her family dispersed. Her brothers scattered for evening chores, her ma and pa disappeared out the back. Her parents did that sometimes. Walked by the creek in the evenings. Summer had turned and the days were long and hot. The sky clear and dry. Evenings by the creek were sometimes the only relief from the relentless heat.

Jo turned to her old friend. “When will you bring Elizabeth for a visit?”

His face lit up at the mention of his wife’s name. “Soon, I think. You heard my brother is taking over the old Cole farm.”

Jo nodded. “Reverend Miller said he’s trying the land with cattle.”

“It’s not a bad notion.”

“Why isn’t he staying on your family’s ranch?”

“Good question.” Jack rested his forearms on the porch railing and leaned over, staring into the distance. “It’s harder for some men, finding their place in the world. John is the youngest. He’s got something to prove.”

Jo stood beside him and rested her chin on her knuckles. “Men are odd creatures.”

“So are women.” Jack barked out a laugh. “I know it’s not my business, but...”

He let his unspoken question hang between them.

Jo heaved a sigh. “We married for Cora’s sake. He needed a wife. I was available.” She twisted her mouth in a wry smile. “That’s all there is.”

“Oh, I think there’s more. That man has something weighing heavy on his soul. I’ve been around long enough to see that much.”

“I thought if we were together we’d grow closer. But the more I try, the more I feel the distance between us.”

“There’s something holding that man back. And I’d wager it has nothing to do with you.”

“How do I change that? How do I make him see that we have a future together?”

“Be patient with him. It’s harder for some people to trust. If that doesn’t work, I’ll knock some sense into him when I visit next fall.”

Jo laughed. “If I thought that would work, I’d have the boys take care of it.”

“He might not be able to change.” Jack touched her hand, his gaze earnest. “Sometimes the things that happen to people in their childhood, in their past, changes them too much. It warps them and they can never grow straight again.”

“You don’t think people can change?”

“He has to want to change. You can’t force him.”

Her eyes burned, and she blinked away the tears. “I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

Jack turned and leaned his hip against the porch railing. “Marriage is hard work. But it’s good work. Worthwhile. Put in the effort.”

“I can’t put in all the effort alone,” Jo scoffed. She’d ignored the warnings from those who loved her most—her ma, her friends. She’d trapped herself in a loveless marriage and she had only herself to blame.

Chapter Twenty-Six

J
o sucked in a fortifying breath. She took a step forward, then paused. Garrett had cleared the corral outside the barn and mended the fence. This morning he was working with his horse. He stood in the center of the corral and held the lead rope as the animal circled him.

He called out commands, sometimes with words, sometimes just with whistles and clicks of his tongue. The horse responded with lightning-fast precision.

Garrett wore his blue work shirt, the sleeves turned back. She stared at the corded muscles of his forearms and her pulse quickened.

She loved him.

She loved him and she’d pushed him too hard. That was her way. Full steam ahead with no thought other than victory. All she’d done with her dogged persistence was push him away. If she loved him, she owed him some space. Jack had urged her to be patient, and she’d decided to heed his advice.

She smoothed her skirts and plastered a serene expression on her face before calling his name.

He turned, and her determination wavered. She recalled their first meeting at the church, when she’d had pear blossoms in her hair. Even then she’d known she wasn’t the sort of woman to attract a man like Garrett Cain. That knowledge hadn’t stopped her from trying.

At her continued silence, he released the lead line from the horse’s halter and crossed the corral. “Do you need anything?”

“Cora and I are going to the pond. Would you like to come?”

“Sure.”

Jo exhaled a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned the cuffs, then shut and latched the gate behind him.

Turning, she motioned for Cora. “He’s coming.”

The little girl skipped her way down the road, her blond curls shimmering in the sunlight.

Garrett took her small hand. “I don’t know the way.”

“Jo does,” Cora declared proudly.

They linked hands as they set off for the road.

“Lift me,” the little girl demanded with a giggle.

Jo and Garrett exchanged an indulgent grin over her head. On every third step, they hoisted their arms into the air, lifting the giggling little girl from the ground. They repeated the playful activity until Jo’s arm ached.

She let go and rubbed her shoulder. “Enough.” She laughed. “We should look for some rocks.”

Keeping her hands above her waist, she waded through the dense brush toward the creek. She assisted Cora down the bank, and they sloshed through the water, their heads bent.

Garrett paused above them. “Why are we looking for rocks?”

“For skipping.”

He joined them in the creek, then plucked a stone from the creek bed and handed it to Jo. “Will this work?”

Squinting, she studied his find. “Nope. It needs to be like this.”

She held up a flat, rounded stone.

“Got it,” he replied, resuming his search.

Jo crouched next to him. “Haven’t you ever skipped stones before?”

“Never.”

She pressed off from her knee into a stand again. “It’s too bad Abraham isn’t here, he once got twelve skips off one rock.”

“Is that good?”

“The best I’ve ever seen.”

She forced herself to look away. If they were going to spend their lives together, she must foster the friendship. She’d feared from the beginning one of them had more to lose. Perhaps she’d even find a way for both of them to gain something.

As she struggled back up the hill, he took her hand. She steeled herself against the sudden rush of attraction.

Cora kept her proud stash of stones tight against her chest. “I’ve never skipped stones, either.”

Upon reaching the small pond nestled in a shallow valley, Jo proceeded with her demonstration. She showed them how to flick their wrists, sending the stones skipping across the water. After several tries, Cora managed two skips.

She laughed and clapped hands.

Jo glanced at her husband as he crouched before his niece, pulling her into his embrace.

He’d only ever asked her for one thing.
Time.

Marriage was work. But it was good work. Worthwhile.

She stood behind him, not quite touching. His request was a small enough thing to ask. She’d give him more time.

* * *

Garrett stood before the towering church doors. He felt as though he’d come full circle. This was where it had all begun between him and Jo. When he’d dropped his hat and she’d retrieved it. Their hands had touched, the feeling still lingered.

She deserved the truth, and he was finally prepared for the cost. Cora had grown fond of him, but his niece still preferred Jo. His cousin, Edward, had lost interest in demanding custody of Cora. The reason for their marriage had dissipated, and he needed another, better one. Garrett rolled his tense shoulders.

Everything was wrapped up neat as a pin. All he need do was screw his courage and tell Jo the truth.

Simple as that.

Reverend Miller opened the door, a question in his watery gray eyes.

Garrett cleared his throat. “I need a word.”

The older man stepped aside and motioned him into the shaded interior of the cozy space. Without asking why, Reverend Miller led him through the smaller set of double doors into the church. They sat in the front pews facing the altar. Garrett braced his hands on his knees and hung his head.

The reverend touched his shoulder. “You can talk with God alone, or with me here.”

“Stay,” Garrett implored hoarsely.

He let the words flow. He spoke until his throat went dry. All the fears, all the horrors of his youth. Things he’d forgotten welled up in his heart and spilled over the side. The feelings tumbled loose, raging free as the dam within him burst.

A sob shook his body and he buried his face in his hands, letting go.

Reverend Miller rested his hands on his knees. “That’s a heavy burden for one man to carry alone.”

“Yes.”

“And why must you carry this burden alone?”

“Because...because it’s my shame.”

“It’s your father’s shame. You were but a child. Would you blame Cora for her parents’ death?”

“Of course not.” Garrett shot upright.

“Then you must forgive. Forgive your father and forgive yourself.” The older man leaned away and rested his forearms on the back of the pew. “I served in the war myself.”

Garrett lifted his head in surprise.

“It does things to a man.” Reverend Miller shook his head. “We’ll never know what shaped your father. What drove him into such a black place.”

“He stole my faith.”

Garrett whispered a truth he’d only just realized.

“Forgiveness can restore that faith. Forgiveness and love.”

“My mother should have left him sooner.” Garrett spoke the words that had rotted his soul for years, eating away at him like a poison. “She should have been stronger for us.”

Until that moment he’d never realized the anger sparking in his chest. “She should have been stronger.”

“I don’t fault your anger, son. As we grow, we come to realize those we love are flawed. My guess is that your mother did the best she could. She couldn’t change your father.”

“Why did he do it?”

There was so much more in the simple phrase, but he couldn’t speak anymore.

“I can’t answer that. I can only advise on matters of faith. Forgive them both. For being human. For being weak. Only you can heal the rift in your soul.”

“But I can’t forget.”

“God does not require us to forget. You have a lovely niece who dotes on you. A beautiful wife who loves you. Take those gifts without the taint of hatred.”

Garrett’s heart stuttered. Jo didn’t love him. If he told her the truth, she might never. He clutched his hat, bending the brim. He’d rather know if she could love him than live in a prison of his own making.

He loved her.

A moment of clarity cleared the fog from his brain. He’d driven away the people he loved from his life. He’d run from them, hidden from them, frozen them out—all because he was afraid of losing someone again.

And what had it gotten him? Fifteen wasted years that he could have spent with Deirdre. Five years he could have spent with Cora. He’d asked Jo for time when he’d wasted all of his. Instead of protecting himself, he’d created more hurt. For all of them.

His head throbbing, Garrett held out his hand. “Thank you.”

The reverend took his proffered hand in both of his. “Forgive yourself first, son, and the rest will go much easier.”

Garrett lifted his eyes toward the stained-glass window. Mary and Joseph held a swaddled Jesus in colorful, angled splendor. God had sacrificed his only son for the sins of mankind.

The reverend followed Garrett’s thoughtful gaze. “It is written in Ephesians. ‘Be ye kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’”

His thoughts reeling, Garrett walked down the center aisle, leaving Reverend Miller alone. The moment he pushed open the double doors to the vestibule, the stench of cigar smoke hit him like a wall. The doors closed behind him.

Garrett stiffened and reached for his gun. The cold barrel of a pistol jabbed him in the ribs.

Bert Walby’s dank breath puffed near his cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid, Marshal.”

Garrett raised his hands. “This isn’t going to work,” he said, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want the reverend involved.

“Sure it is. If you don’t help me, I’m going to tell the whole town that the man they entrusted to keep the peace is the son of a murderer.”

Tensing, Garrett lowered his hands. “Then why do you need the gun?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” Bert fished in Garrett’s holster and snatched his revolver. “We’re going to the sheriff’s office. The 10:15 to Guthrie is leaving in twenty minutes, and me and Tom are going to be on it.”

Bert stuffed the extra gun into the front of his pants. Garrett pushed through the outside doors and blinked against the sunlight. A half-dozen people bustled along the boardwalk, too many to start something with Bert. He’d bide his time and wait until there were fewer bystanders.

Bert kept the gun beneath his jacket as they walked, his shifty gaze darting between Garrett and a couple, their elbows linked, passing them as they crossed before the mercantile. Garrett tipped his hat.

When they reached the sheriff’s office, Garrett paused. Bert shoved him forward.

“Wait,” Garrett ordered. “My deputy is young and green. If he thinks something is wrong he’s just as liable to shoot me by accident. Let me get rid of him.”

“You do that. But don’t try anything funny. I’ll kill you both.”

Garrett nodded his understanding and stepped inside. David sat behind his desk. When the younger man saw him, he leaped to his feet, his expression flooded with guilt.

“I was just doing some paperwork.”

“My desk is the best place,” Garrett soothed. “Bert here wants to talk with his brother. Why don’t you go see Jack Elder off.”

David checked his watch. “I don’t need to. I saw him last night.”

“I have things under control here. Tell Jack it’s always welcome having the assistance of a fellow lawman around.”

David tilted his head to one side, then looked between the two men. Garrett held his breath. After a moment, David shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Garrett didn’t exhale until the door closed. “Let’s get Tom.”

He snatched the circle key ring from the hook on his desk and led Bert into the backroom.

Tom sat up in bed when he caught sight of them. “What are you doing here?”

Bert waved his gun. “I’m busting you out. We’re taking the train to Guthrie.”

Tom shook his head. “It won’t work. Even if we bust out of here, there’ll be a posse waiting for us at the next stop.”

“I got us some insurance,” his brother declared. “I been trailing the marshal here. Figured I owed it to him after he had you and me followed. A man who goes to church on a Tuesday must have some powerful sinning to confess.” Bert shoved Garrett forward. “The folks of Cimarron Springs have entrusted their lives to the son of a murderer.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

His brother cackled. “His pa shot his ma then killed himself. The marshal isn’t gonna want anyone knowing that, are you?”

He jabbed Garrett in the ribs again. Garrett grunted.

Tom remained seated. “I’m still not going.”

“You are the dumbest son of—”

“Not that dumb.” Tom lifted his doleful gaze. “Since I’ve been here, I sobered up. I’ve been remembering bits and pieces of what happened that night. I didn’t shoot Mr. Hodges. You did.”

Bert sneered. “I was doing you a favor. We coulda opened the store across the street. Hodges was sitting on a gold mine of stock. We coulda bought it cheap.” He spat at Tom’s feet. “Who goes and confesses to something they didn’t do?”

“I figured it must have been me. My gun was missing bullets...I’d been losing at poker to Hodges for an hour and then he wound up dead. I didn’t know what to think.” Tom’s expression hardened. “You wanted them to believe I did it, didn’t you?”

“Don’t get yourself in a lather. I figured if they caught up with you, everyone would think it was an accident. You’re always shooting off that gun.”

Tom lunged toward the bars. “Get out of here. I got a wife and kid. I’m clearing my name and staying.”

“You can’t clear your name without ruining mine. Now let’s get out of here.”

“No.” Tom sat back down and gripped the straw mattress. “I’m not like you. It’s been eating away at me, thinking I killed someone. I’m not like you at all.”

Garrett looked between the two brothers. So similar and yet so different. They’d been raised by the same parents, reared in the same town. Yet Bert had gone bad. Worse even than Tom because there was no going back for him.

Bert cocked the gun and leveled his hand at Tom.

The color drained from his brother’s face. “You’d shoot your own kin?”

“You’re too stupid for your own good, Tom.”

He squeezed the trigger and Garrett lunged. The shot went wide. Garrett tossed the keys into the cell to give Tom a fighting chance and reached for the shooter. The move slowed him down. Bert leveled his gun at Garrett’s forehead.