Читать книгу The Marshal's Ready-Made Family - Sherri Shackelford - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Shocked by her own words, Jo froze. Immediate silence descended on the room. Marshal Cain’s jaw dropped. For several long moments nothing stirred the air except the steady tick, tick, tick of the clock on the mantel.

Jo felt her face flame. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? He doesn’t have a wife. As Cora’s uncle, he’s a closer relative to her than a second cousin. What can the judge say if he’s married?”

“Well, uh,” the reverend sputtered. “You make a compelling argument.”

Marshal Cain hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even blinked an eyelash. The more time stretched out without a response, the more frustrated Jo became. Why didn’t he say something? Yes, no, maybe, I’ll think about it...

If Mary Louise from the mercantile had asked, he probably would’ve jumped at the chance.

“Never mind,” she declared.

“No.” The marshal held up his hand. “Jo is right. If I have a wife, they’ve lost the balance of their case against me.”

“JoBeth—” her ma placed a hand on her shoulder “—think about what you’re saying. This isn’t a decision to take lightly.”

Ely clutched his head. “You’ve lost me, Edith. Why were you dropping all those hints if you didn’t want them to get married? Why put the idea in her head if you were just gonna talk her out of it?”

“I wasn’t talking about Jo,” Mrs. McCoy hissed through clenched teeth, her emphatic gaze encompassing their rapt audience. “I was talking about one of the ladies on the fried-chicken tour.”

Jo whipped out of her mother’s hold. “I might not have been featured on the tour, but I know what I’m doing.”

She also knew she was acting like a child, but she didn’t care right then.

“This is a disaster,” Edith snapped.

Affronted, Jo challenged her ma. “How on earth does this qualify as a disaster?”

“Everybody out!” her pa shouted with a clap, startling both women into silence.

No one moved.

“I said everyone outside.”

Spurred by the force of his booming command, Jo and Marshal Cain automatically turned toward the door.

“Not you two.” Ely rolled his eyes. “The rest of us will leave.”

He waved his wife and the reverend toward the door. Reverend Miller scooted out of the tense room as if his heels were on fire. Edith scowled and stubbornly bustled around the stove. “Let me turn down the fire on the gravy.”

Ely grasped her elbow and coaxed her toward the door. “Come along, dear.”

“But the table,” her ma protested, dragging her feet. “The dinner...”

“The potatoes will be here in ten minutes. Those two need time alone more than they need a pot roast right now.”

Her ma sputtered and resisted his gentle, persistent guidance. Ely McCoy remained adamant. The door closed resolutely on her muttered protest.

Jo gaped. It was a rare day indeed when her pa overrode her ma’s wishes.

The scrape of boots as Garrett restlessly roamed about the cramped space yanked her attention back to the problem at hand. Alone with the marshal, Jo’s courage faltered. She’d acted impulsively, backing herself into a corner once again.

He paced before the hearth, his expression intense. “This could work. Cora likes you.”

What about you? The question balanced on the tip of her tongue.

“And you’re not the romantic sort, are you?”

Jo studied her hands, the nicks and scars, the half-moon of dirt beneath her blunt fingernails. “Of course not.”

His pacing halted. “There’s no one else, is there? No one else you’ve set your cap for?”

Jo shook her head.

“You said it yourself. We’re friends.” The pacing resumed. “We get along okay, don’t we?”

“Sure.”

“And this wouldn’t be a real marriage. More of a partnership.”

Her legs trembled and Jo locked her knees. “A partnership.”

“For Cora.”

“For Cora,” Jo repeated.

She set her jaw. What had she expected? That he’d fall to his knees with joy? She’d offered a solution, and he was, at the very least, considering her offer. This was a good idea. She’d have Cora. She’d have a family. Not a normal family like everybody else, but then again, when had she ever done anything the normal way? She’d have a child without childbirth. Perfect. Fabulous. Just what she’d always wanted.

And if no man ever looked at her the way her pa looked at her ma—as if she was the only candle in a world of darkness—then so be it.

Jo straightened her spine. She didn’t need that sort of nonsense. She liked the marshal, and maybe someday he’d even come to like her, too. She might not be pretty like the other girls, but certainly he’d come to appreciate her other qualities.

Thus far, he hadn’t laughed in her face or mocked her, and a friendship didn’t risk her heart. She’d devised the perfect solution for both of them.

Marshal Cain rubbed the stubble on his chin, drawing Jo’s eyes to his lips. He’d have to kiss her when they got married, wouldn’t he? Tom had once bussed her with a slobbery peck on the cheek behind the livery and she hadn’t been keen on repeating the experience. Marshal Cain was different, though, and she wouldn’t mind trying again.

Jo pressed a hand against her quaking stomach.

Garrett stretched his arms nearer the dwindling fire and rubbed his hands together. “We’ve done great together this week, taking Cora back and forth. With the judge coming through town next week, we don’t even need a ceremony. We could just sign the papers and call it good.”

No ceremony. No kiss. Jo flipped a length of hair off her forehead. “Nope. No ceremony.”

“I mean, we’re both solitary people. Independent. And people have gotten married for worse reasons.”

The marshal was only repeating her thoughts. Yet her heart wrenched at his words. She had a feeling she’d discovered the source of her strange yearnings. Lately the idea of having babies didn’t seem so bad. Caroline from school had five children and she’d once fainted when Tom Walby broke his nose during a game of kick ball. If Caroline kept having children, there was hope for all of them.

But the marshal didn’t want a real marriage.

No matter what happened, Jo wouldn’t let the marshal see that occasionally, in her weaker moments, she wanted more. “Getting hitched solves all your problems.”

Yep, she was JoBeth McCoy, problem solver to the world.

He circled the room and sank onto a chair before his empty dinner plate. “No. This is crazy.” Elbows on the table, he cradled his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not myself lately.”

He was hiding something, she was certain. Jo rubbed the back of her neck. She had a feeling she knew the source of his reluctance.

No matter the personal cost, she’d pry the truth from him. “Would you say yes if someone else asked?” She fought the rough edge in her voice. “Because there are plenty of other ladies in town.”

Marshal Cain bolted upright. “This is the rest of my life. You’re the only one I’d even consider.”

“Ooo...kay.”

That was a decent response, right? He hadn’t exactly explained why he’d choose her over someone else, but Jo guessed that was about as good an answer as she was going to get. While she might have hoped for something more revealing, at least he was still considering her suggestion. He hadn’t outright refused her yet.

Garrett unfurled a pink ribbon from his pocket and stretched it between his hands. “Cora loves you. You’re all she talks about these days.”

Jo’s shoulders sagged. Cora. Of course, that’s what he’d meant. He was thinking of his niece, not her.

She’d capitalize on his reluctant admission. Carefully formulating her response, Jo skirted the table. When she’d gathered her thoughts, she knelt before him and gently tugged the pink ribbon free. “We have to think of what’s best for all of us.”

A half smile lifted the corner of his lips, and her mouth went dry. She definitely wanted to try kissing again—just as a comparison. Gathering her wayward thoughts once more, she studied his hands, tanned and dwarfing her own. She didn’t feel weak when he was near. She felt buoyant and powerful, as though his strength melded with hers. Despite her own certainty, she sensed his persistent doubt. If this marriage was going to happen, they both needed faith.

Jo swallowed around the lump in her throat. One thing she’d learned over time was never to predict the future. This might not be the ideal solution for Jo—she had an uneasy sense one of them had more at stake in the marriage than the other—but this was the best solution for Cora.

The marshal and his niece had been through so much, had lost so much. If Jo could hold their family together, she’d pay the personal price.

Perhaps in bringing peace to Cora and Garrett, she’d find a measure for herself. “It’s just like you said earlier. Neither of us is the romantic sort. We’re not bothered by love. We’d be doing this for Cora. She needs a family, and, well, things are changing for me.”

The marshal raised his head and met her steady gaze. “How do you mean?”

Stalling, Jo let her attention drift around the familiar room. “The boys will be marrying soon.”

“How does that change things for you?”

“Caleb is a farmer, like Pa. He’ll stay here and work the land. The house is already crowded as it is, and with another woman around...well, they won’t need my help anymore.”

Garrett flashed a wry grin. “Looks like Caleb will be spending a lot of time at the mercantile.”

“I suppose.” Jo resisted a smug rejoinder. Caleb definitely had it bad for Mary Louise. “And once he’s married, David won’t be far behind. Those boys have always followed each other.”

“Even if your parents won’t need as much of your help, you’ll still have your job in town. At the telegraph office.”

“I know. But I want more.”

“What more could you possibly want?”

What do you want? His blunt question threw her off guard. No one else had thought to ask her what she wanted. She’d thought about what was best for her parents, for her brothers, for Cora and even for the marshal. But she’d never considered what was best for her.

Her ma had certainly given up on Jo ever marrying. While she loved her family, she wanted more. When her friends got married, it was as if they were automatically considered adults, but since Jo hadn’t gotten hitched, they still treated her like a child. All a man had to do was turn eighteen and he was considered grown, but a woman wasn’t given that luxury.

It was odd, really, since as far as she could tell, getting married didn’t automatically endow you with more wisdom than anyone else. But everyone around her seemed to think so. Her married school friends would smile and give her a patronizing nod, as though they’d somehow been granted admission into a secret club and Jo wasn’t invited.

Marrying the marshal bypassed all that courting and foolishness. And at least the marshal hadn’t said he’d rather court his grandfather’s mule.

Jo glanced away. “I love Cora. I can’t explain how it happened, but when she stepped off that train, I felt a kinship. Mrs. Smith was pacing the platform and wailing about Indians, but Cora just stood there with those big, solemn eyes. She was lost and alone, but now she has us. We can make a family.”

“I know what you mean about Cora.” The marshal ran his hand along his chin. “When I saw her that day at church, peeking out from behind your skirts, I felt the same way.”

Jo’s heart soared at his reluctant admission. He was softening toward her idea, she could tell.

“This is a lifetime decision, Jo.” His dark gaze ran the length of her and Jo suddenly realized she was still wearing trousers. “You’re young. Someday you’ll fall in love.”

She pulled out the chair beside him and hitched her pant legs over her knees, then she sat facing him. If Garrett was disappointed in what he saw, that was his loss.

No matter what happened, she wouldn’t change who she was—not on the inside, and certainly not on the outside. “Maybe this is God’s way of bringing two people together who wouldn’t normally marry otherwise.”

“But what if you want children of your own someday?” he spoke, not quite meeting her eyes.

The memories of all the births she’d attended rippled through her. All the fragile bodies she and her ma had swaddled in christening blankets for untimely burials. Not every mother survived the process, and not every baby. Garrett might be a marshal, yet Jo was certain she’d seen more death than he had.

She pushed back a wash of sadness. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. No one knows what the future will bring. But we do know what needs to be done right now.”

She leaned forward and cradled his hands. They looked at each other for a long moment, and her breath grew shallow. His shoulders were broad, strong and capable. Sitting this close, the room bathed in lamplight, she noticed how his eyes were rimmed by a darker circle, making the color appear even deeper.

Could she do this? Could she spend the rest of her life as his friend without wanting more?

He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand and her whole body pulsed with his touch.

Jo tightened her grip. What choice did she have? She could marry him and risk her heart, or risk never seeing him again. As much as she adored Cora, they were a package deal. She couldn’t have one without the other.

He dragged his hands away, stood and turned his back. A sudden sense of emptiness overwhelmed Jo. In that moment, the room appeared lifeless, abandoned. Unfinished place settings covered the table, unfilled waterglasses sat near the sink, empty chairs remained strewn haphazardly around the room.

When he faced her again, his face had smoothed into an unreadable mask. “We can’t rush into this.”

A heavy weight settled on Jo’s chest. She felt him moving away, physically and mentally, regretting his hasty words already. Her last, best chance for a family of her own was slipping away. Was she selfish for wanting him to agree?

Her stomach churned. “Please don’t make any decisions without telling me first.”

“I couldn’t keep something from you even if I tried.” He tossed her a knowing look. “Not with Cora around.”

“You can’t keep secrets with a child underfoot.”

He chuckled, the sound more grim than amused. A flash of lightning sparked in the distance, brightening the room for an instant and illuminating his somber expression.

Garrett squinted out the window. “Looks like we might get some rain. That’s bad timing with the creek rising fast from the melting up north.”

“Not much use in worrying about something you can’t control. My pa likes to say, ‘Keep your faith in God, and one eye on the river.’”

“I like the sound of that.”

The image of the raging creek resonated in Jo’s head. It felt as though her beliefs about herself were slipping away, eroding beneath a deluge of new possibilities. Somehow, she’d always imagined things going on just the way they had. The boys growing and marrying. Her little room at the boardinghouse. Coming home for dinner on Sundays.

Then she’d found herself picturing her own family, having her own Sunday dinners.

Marshal Cain approached her and grasped her shoulders, his touch light. “You have to know something about me. I’m not good husband material. If you’re looking for love, if you think this might grow into love someday, you’ll be disappointed.” He interrupted her murmured protest. “It’s not that I don’t like you, admire you, but I just can’t.”

Can’t or won’t? Once again the words balanced on the tip of her tongue, but her courage deserted her when she needed it most. Besides, what did it matter?

She must remain focused on the true problem. “We’ll be friends. We’ll both love Cora, and that will be enough love for all of us.”

“I still need to think.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not saying no, but I need to think this through. We can’t make a rash decision. There are things about me you don’t know.”

He said the last words so quietly, she barely registered them.

“You said it yourself,” Jo urged. “People have married for worse reasons. At least you and I have good intentions. How can things go wrong if we’re making a decision based on what’s best for Cora?”

“Things can go wrong.” He tipped back on his heels, his voice somber. “Believe me, things can always go wrong.”

Jo glanced at her scuffed boots. Once again she wondered if he’d make a rash decision if she looked like Mary Louise at the mercantile. Probably so. Men made rash decisions about pretty women every day. With tomboys, they made rational, thoughtful decisions based on logic.

Jo plucked at a loose thread on her trousers. Was she willing to change? For Marshal Cain? For a man?

Never.

But what about Cora?

Jo yanked the thread loose, exposing a tear in the fabric. Even if she could change, she didn’t want to. She liked the person she was—inside and out. Marshal Cain either accepted her the way she was or not at all. As simple as that.

“Maybe,” Marshal Cain spoke, his voice hesitant. “The answer is maybe. Let’s leave it there for now.”

Tears threatened, and Jo hastily blinked them away. This was no time for going soft. In life, maybe meant no. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I promise.”

“Can I still take Cora to the telegraph office with me tomorrow?” she added hopefully.

“Of course. This doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course.”

With fisted hands, Jo rubbed her eyes in tight circles. Her hasty words had changed everything. Yet she didn’t regret them, not for an instant. “Either way, we should think about finding you and Cora a new place to live. Outlaws and tea parties make strange bedfellows.”

The marshal threw back his head and laughed, a rich hearty sound that vibrated in her chest and sent her blood thrumming through her veins.

“I can’t argue with you in that regard.” He swiped at his eyes. “Thank you. I needed a good laugh.”

Feeling brazen, Jo grinned. “Can you imagine if word reached Wichita there was a pink afghan in the jailhouse?”

“Maybe crime would go down. It’s hard to be a tough guy when there’s a doll in your cell.”

“This could be the best thing that happened to Cimarron Springs in a long while.”

Garrett stared down at her, and Jo tipped back her head. Their gazes collided and they stood frozen for a long moment.

He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his finger coasting along the sensitive skin of her neck. “I had a job in Colorado Springs before this. My deputy told me I was a fool for coming to Kansas. He was wrong. Coming here was the best decision I ever made.”

“Even with all that’s happening?”

“Especially now. You’ve been heaven-sent for Cora.”

His admission awakened a sliver of hope. “I have next Monday off from work. Cora and I are picking mulberries down by the creek.”

Garrett grasped her hand, caressing her blunt nails. “Come Monday afternoon, you’ll have purple fingers.”

“And purple lips.”

His eyes widened and he made a strangled sound in his throat. “Uh, well,” he muttered as he dropped her hand and stumbled back a step. “I’d best get Cora home. I don’t want her out in the rain.” He jerked one thumb over his shoulder. “The wagon and the rain and all.”

Frowning, Jo touched her cheek as he made a hasty retreat. Why did he run off every time she thought they were making progress?

She crossed her arms over her chest. The fool man was running hot and cold and his indecision was driving her mad. Either way, he had to make up his mind on his own. She wasn’t chasing down someone who didn’t want her, no matter how stupid he was for rejecting her.

Even if she wasn’t pretty on the outside like Mary Louise, she was worthy on the inside.

How did she convince Garrett of that truth?