Читать книгу The Marshal's Ready-Made Family - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 10

Chapter Two

The weathered boardwalk planks beneath Jo’s feet rumbled. With Cora between them, Jo and the marshal paused beneath the hand-painted sign for the Palace Café. A group of young boys, blessedly minus any of her brothers, dashed around them, laughing and calling to each other. Visibly alarmed by the group’s roughhousing, Cora latched on to Jo’s leg.

“Don’t worry.” Jo ruffled her curls. “They’re just full of energy. They have the week off while their schoolteacher is visiting her sister during her confinement.”

Another baby, and the birth had been particularly difficult. Jo stifled a shudder. Her ma served as midwife around town, and Jo often assisted. Each birth she attended crystallized her fears and renewed her vow to stay single.

While there was joy, too often there was pain. She’d swaddled the tiny bodies of stillborn infants. She’d led distraught husbands from the room and sat with them while they wept. She’d felt the hand of a laboring mother go limp as the woman’s exhausted body gave up the battle for life.

After all she’d seen, she’d never experience the innocent hope and wonder most expectant mothers felt.

Not that she had any prospects in the matter, but she didn’t like this strange push and pull tugging on her emotions lately. More and more often she found herself lingering over the newborns, inhaling their sweet scent and wondering what it would be like to have one of her own.

Jo mentally shook off the disquieting thoughts. It was no use pining for things that could never be. She’d been rejected before and, while she knew she could survive heartbreak, she dreaded a repeat of the humiliating experience.

Cora peeked out from beneath her pale eyelashes. “When will I go to school?”

The marshal blanched. “I don’t know. I’m not sure. Should she be in school now? What should I do?”

“There’s no need for panic.” Jo chucked him on the shoulder. “We’ll talk with the teacher when she comes back next week.”

“You’re right.” He mopped his forehead with a blue-patterned bandanna. “Of course you’re right. There’s no need for alarm. I’m just new to all this.”

The marshal’s dedication melted Jo’s insides. Seeing a tough, hardened lawman reduced to a bundle of nerves over a tiny little girl was the most precious sight she’d ever seen. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, hug him or chuck him on the shoulder once more. But she felt better about Cora’s new living arrangements than she had all week.

She’d known the marshal was fair and levelheaded, but seeing him this vulnerable lit a warm glow in her chest. Anybody could be a tough lawman, but it took a real man to show his vulnerability.

Cora tipped her rag doll side to side, sending its yellow-yarn braids flopping. “I know some of my letters. But I can’t read yet.”

The marshal squinted thoughtfully. “I’ll talk with the schoolteacher when she returns. Are you ready for lunch?”

“Nope.” Cora glanced around. “I dropped Miss Lily’s coat.”

She dashed back a few paces, leaving Jo and Marshal Cain alone on the boardwalk beneath a cloudless, brilliant blue spring sky. Jo had been thinking about his rattled composure when she’d teased him earlier, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by female attention. She’d noticed the odd affliction with her brothers. They were as tough as buffalo jerky with their friends, but as fluffy as milkweed when it came to a pretty girl.

Testing her theory, Jo smiled coyly, her lips stretching with muscles she rarely used. The marshal returned the smile, his face turning pink.

To her shock, she felt her own cheeks warm.

She’d done it—she’d almost flirted with a man and he’d sort of responded. It was no wonder Mary Louise held court to all those besotted suitors in the mercantile like the queen of England.

“Hey, runt,” a familiar voice sneered.

Jo’s smile faded. Bert Walby sauntered up the boardwalk, his fingers hitched into his striped vest pocket. Tom Walby’s brother never missed an opportunity to bait her. She stood up straighter, bracing for his verbal attack. Tom and Bert looked alike with their gangly frames and straw-colored hair.

Gritting her teeth, Jo faced her tormentor. “You’re looking awfully fancy, Bert. You going before the judge?”

He scowled. “That’s funny, runt, cuz you look the same as always. You get dressed in a barn this morning?”

Chuckling, he snatched the hat from her head, then reared back and cocked his arm in order to toss it onto the dirt-packed street. The next instant, Bert staggered into the marshal. Unsure what had knocked him sideways, Jo leaped back. The two men slammed into the jailhouse wall. Bert yelped and collapsed onto his knees. Marshal Cain bent, hooking his right hand beneath the man’s shoulder, and hauled him upright. The marshal whispered something in Bert’s ear before shoving him forward.

With a grumble, Bert circled his right shoulder and rubbed his biceps with his left hand.

The marshal crossed his arms and cleared his throat.

Leaning down, Bert plucked her hat from the boardwalk and dusted the brim against his thigh before returning it. “I was just checking on Tom. Heard you locked him up again.”

The marshal braced his legs apart. “Tom’s responsible for his own actions. You can pick him up before supper. He should be sober by then.”

“It’s nobody’s business what a man does on his own time.”

“Tom makes it my business when he goes smashing up property.”

Bert tossed a glare over his shoulder as he beat a hasty exit.

Jo replaced her hat and frowned at Bert’s retreating back. “That was odd. He usually doesn’t back down that quick.”

Marshal Cain shrugged, his expression deceptively neutral. “Seems like Bert’s got a grudge against both of us.”

“We’ve been feuding since the eighth grade.” Jo snorted. “Since I gave Tom a shiner. The Walbys are too afraid of my brothers to settle the score outright, but whenever Tom or Bert sees me alone... You get the idea.”

“I do.” A muscle ticked along the marshal’s jaw.

Cora skipped between them with her doll. Miss Lily sported a red coat trimmed in navy blue rickrack.

Garrett yanked open the café door, clanging the bell suspended above them, his attention focused on the street. His gaze settled on the spot where Bert had taken up vigil near the jailhouse. Garrett looked between the two of them, and his eyes narrowed. Jo’s shoulders sagged. So much for flirting with the marshal. Now he’d see her like everyone else in town did—a rebel who scrapped with the boys.

She set her jaw. It was best not to pine for something she’d never have. Over the years she’d grown wiser, more protective of her emotions. Loosening her resolve was a road paved with disaster.

It was best if Garrett thought of her as a buddy, because a friend couldn’t break her heart.

* * *

The café bustled with activity. Plates clanked together and the low hum of voices surrounded them. The succulent aroma of fried chicken filled the air. Garrett pulled out a chair for Cora and Jo in turn, then caught the curious glance of a middle-aged woman in a burgundy bustled dress.

He touched his forehead in greeting and leaned nearer Jo’s ear. “Is it all right? You and I eating together. I don’t want any gossip.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.”

For an instant he thought he saw a flash of disappointment. The moment passed so quickly, he shook off the odd feeling. Why would Jo want people gossiping about them?

Starched white cloths draped the wooden tables, and mismatched china covered the surface. The decor was a curious blend of faded elegance and homespun crafts. In the center of the table, a pint-size milk jug tinted a clear shade of blue-green held a posy of coneflowers.

Garrett kicked back in his chair and studied his surroundings. Most of the people in town were familiar by now, and they’d moved passed their initial wariness. A few gentlemen nodded in his direction, and Mrs. Schlautman flashed him a smile.

Jo rested her menu on the table. “How’d you end up here, anyway?”

He couldn’t hold back a grin. “You sure are direct.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no. I like it.” Too much.

Garrett planted his elbows on the table and fisted his hands. “I was bored. I needed a challenge. When I heard what I was up against, what the previous sheriff had let go on around here, I knew this was the perfect job for me.”

“Will you stay? After you’re done cleaning up the town and all?”

“Hadn’t planned on it.” His gaze slid toward Cora. “But things have changed.”

Their waitress bustled past and took their orders, momentarily interrupting his troubled thoughts. Jo and the woman exchanged a few pleasantries, their friendship obvious by their banter. The woman returned a moment later with a pencil and paper, and Cora happily accepted the distracting items.

Garrett scratched his head. “I never even thought of that.”

“You’re new to all this. You’ll learn.” Jo pressed her thumb against the tines of her fork. “Do you have any other family? Someone who could help out for a bit?”

“Just a cousin and his wife.” Garrett glanced away. “They won’t be much help.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any family.”

“None that claim me.” He ducked his head. “I guess that’s different than no kin at all.”

There was no love lost between him and Edward. For a time after his parents’ deaths, Garrett had stayed with Edward’s family. They’d been mortified by the scandal, and resentful of the added burden of two extra children. Especially Garrett, who bore a striking resemblance to his father.

He shook his head. “It must seem strange to you.”

“I’ve never wanted for brothers, that’s for certain.” Jo drummed her fingers on the table. “Is your cousin a lawman, too?”

“Nope. He owns a sawmill back East. My father was a doctor. I’m the only one who went West.”

“I guess that explains your parents’ deaths.”

His heart stuttered and stalled. “Explains what?”

“You know, the smallpox. Doctors get exposed to all that kind of stuff all the time.”

His blood gradually resumed pumping again, moving sluggishly through his frozen veins.

“Of course,” he replied.

These people respected him, gave him their trust. What would they do if they knew of his past? A lawman, the son of a murderer. They’d run him out of town on a rail. If he and Cora settled here, he’d have to guard the secret with even greater care. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Garrett braced his left palm on the table and his right one against his chest.

Jo leaned forward, a crease between her delicately arched brows. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

“Fine.”

Avoiding her penetrating gaze, he glanced instead at her fingers. They were long and tapered, the nails blunt and neatly rounded. A smudge of ink darkened the tip of her index finger.

He turned from the distraction. Cora scribbled away, her head bent in concentration. Noting his interest, she lifted her paper and proudly displayed her picture. Even with her rudimentary skills, Garrett recognized his sister and her husband on either side of Cora, their hands linked together.

Cora’s lower lip trembled. “Look. I made my family.”

His throat tight, Garrett knelt before her and pulled her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and a single sob shook her delicate body.

“Oh, dear,” the woman in burgundy exclaimed, half rising.

Jo gently waved the concerned woman aside. “She’ll be all right. She’s right where she needs to be.”

Grateful for Jo’s assistance, Garrett closed his eyes.

After Cora had calmed, he took his seat once more. Jo resumed the conversation as if there’d been no break, and her light chatter was a grateful distraction. As he watched her and Cora laugh, he let his mind wander. What would it be like, courting Jo? Actually courting her like a proper gentleman?

Garrett spread his work-roughened fingers over the stark white tablecloth. No use thinking the impossible. She deserved better. What if the evil that had snapped his father’s soul lived within Garrett? He couldn’t take the risk.

Jo rested her hand over his. “You don’t have to be alone in this. I hope we can be friends.”

“I’d like that.”

Sour guilt swelled in his throat for even thinking about Jo romantically. She deserved someone who could love her with his whole heart, without reservations. Garrett wasn’t that man.

* * *

That evening, Jo returned to her solitary room at the boardinghouse. She lit a single candle and perched on the edge of the bed. Without Cora for company, the room seemed unnaturally quiet.

Lately she’d begun to realize what a lonely place she’d carved out for herself. Rising at dawn each day, spending her shift at the telegraph office, home each evening. Every other weekend she helped her family on the farm. She kept herself busy, sure, but even that felt false.

Like at the mercantile, when Mr. Stuart ran low on supplies and spread out the remaining stock to make it look as if there were more goods available. That’s how Jo felt lately, like she was spreading herself thin to make it appear there was more to her life. Covering up the empty places in her heart with bits of nonsense. Except she wasn’t hiding them from other people, she was hiding from herself.

Always before, she’d known what she’d wanted, and she’d sought her goal with single-minded determination. Except she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

Jo stood and crossed the room, then pressed her forehead against the cool windowpane. She did know one thing—being with Cora and Garrett felt right.

Blowing out a warm breath, Jo fogged a circle on the glass. Garrett had accepted her offer of friendship. Together they’d look after Cora, ease her through the transition of losing her parents.

Simple as that.

The fog on the glass quickly dissipated. He hadn’t shown signs of interest toward any of the single ladies in town earlier, now that he had Cora to look after... Her stomach pitched. A single man around these parts who needed a wife didn’t stay single for long. There’d be no setting her cap for Marshal Cain. She’d never set herself up for that kind of demoralizing rejection again.

Jo glanced at the tips of her battered work boots. She knew what she wanted, all right: she wanted something that could never be.