Four pairs of eyes turned in shock.
Jo glared at her ma, who returned the sharp glance and pursed her lips. “I don’t mean because you’re a man. But you voiced your own concerns rather eloquently earlier this evening. You can’t have a little girl in the jailhouse with murderers and rapists.”
“Edith!” Ely exclaimed. “Language.”
Jo’s ma directed an exasperated look at her husband. “It’s the truth, whether we want to face it or not. You’ve got a sweet little girl living above a jail cell.”
Marshal Cain adjusted the gun belt strapped around his narrow hips. “She’s barely been here a week. I haven’t sorted out all the details. If living in the jail is the problem, then we’ll move.” He faced the reverend. “What about the Elder place? The one just over the rise? I’ll buy that.”
“You can’t,” Reverend Miller declared. “Someone already owns it.”
The room erupted into noisy chaos.
“Who?” Jo demanded.
“Why, Jack Elder’s brother,” the reverend declared. “I heard he was driving a herd of cattle from Texas.”
Ely planted an elbow on the mantel. “When did this happen?”
“Last month or so. Haven’t heard anything in a while.”
“Longhorns, I suppose?” Ely ran a thumb and forefinger along his silver-streaked beard. “Huh. I guess there’s good grazing land on the other side of the creek. He better move quick. There’s talk of closing the borders farther east. Those longhorns bring Texas Fever.”
“Does he have any kids?” Maxwell asked from the doorway.
The adults fell instantly silent at his sudden announcement. Not a one of them had noticed his arrival.
“Back outside.” Edith broke the impasse and shooed the youngest McCoy toward the porch. “The adults are talking.”
“Sounds like you’re arguing.”
“It’s a heated discussion. You and Cora play with the kittens until I call you.”
“I still say you’re arguing,” Max grumbled, but dutifully latched the door behind him.
Edith straightened the doormat with her heel. “It’ll be nice having an Elder on the land again. We should check the roof before he gets here.”
Ely grunted. “Enough. It doesn’t matter right now who owns the old Elder farm. What matters is what’s going to happen to Cora.”
Visibly shaking off the distraction, Edith straightened her collar. “I don’t think Marshal Cain has much of a choice. Keeping law in this town is unpredictable. If a judge looks at a husband and wife, also relatives, compared to a single man. A single lawman.” She paused. “How can he think Marshal Cain is the best choice?”
“I am the best choice.” The marshal punctuated each word with emotion. “I love her. I don’t want her because she comes with a pile of money. I’ve been raising her for a week. We’re struggling, sure. But I’m trying. I’ll try harder.”
Jo groaned as her ma set out the plates for supper. Heaven forbid Edith McCoy let a simple little thing like the ruin of a man’s life disrupt a meal.
“What if you’re called away?” Edith slid a plate across the table. “It took us almost a week to find you when we received the telegram about Cora.”
The marshal made a sound of disgust.
Panic welled in Jo’s throat. Didn’t they see how much Marshal Cain and his niece needed each other? Her ma was more concerned with propriety than love.
Jo clenched her hands on the table. “I can help out if he’s called away. Cora knows me.”
“That’s only one of his problems.” Edith added flatware next to the plates with infuriating precision. “His job is dangerous. What if something happens? If he’s wounded or worse. Who will take care of Cora then?”
Marshal Cain slapped his hat on his head. “I’m not giving up my girl.” He gestured dismissively toward Reverend Miller. “If some judge in Missouri....” He glanced pointedly around the room. “Or anyone else tries to take my child, they’ll have a fight on their hands.”
His expression scornful, Marshal Cain strode toward the door.
The room erupted into noisy chatter once more as everyone began talking and gesturing in overlapping conversations.
“There’s a perfectly obvious solution—” Edith began.
“Obvious to whom?” the reverend interrupted.
“You talk to him.”
Ely touched his chest. “Me?”
Jo stomped her boot. “This is getting us nowhere.”
Her pa’s head swung between the competing conversations. The reverend flailed his arms at Ely while Edith pointed a finger at her husband.
Jo brushed past them and blocked the marshal’s exit. “Let’s get hitched.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Jo declared. “Let’s get married.”
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 in
deed 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 autom
atically 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.
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