Edith straightened Jo’s collar and flicked a disapproving glare at the hole in the fabric Jo had never bothered darning. “Bring this by when you come for dinner and I’ll mend the tear.”
“It’s fine.” Jo wriggled away. “No one cares but you.”
“When you marry the marshal, your appearance will reflect on him. He has a certain standing in the community. As does his family.”
Jo considered how her mother always looked impeccable. How she pressed her clothes and put up her hair, even if she wasn’t going into town that day. “How come you always look just as nice at home as you do when you’re going into town?”
“Because my family is the most important thing in the world to me,” Edith replied easily. “Why wouldn’t I want to look nice for them?”
Jo pondered the unexpected answer. Somehow, she’d always associated her mother’s quirk with vanity. She’d assumed people primped because they liked showing off their looks, but her ma’s reply had shattered that assumption.
Humbled, Jo hung her head. “Thank you for helping me with the wedding.”
Edith cupped her cheek. “Someday you’ll thank me for this.”
Jo lifted her eyes heavenward. Getting married meant dressing up like a girl, something she knew nothing about.
How many times had the Walby brothers teased her about her clothes and hair? She touched her serviceable brown skirts. She didn’t look as if she dressed in a barn, did she? Cold fear pitted in her stomach.
Jo crossed her arms. “A church wedding and dress. But that’s all.”
Maybe then her ma would finally understand that she couldn’t change Jo into the daughter she wanted. By the time all this wedding nonsense had run its course, she hoped Edith McCoy finally accepted the daughter God had given her.
Chapter Thirteen
Garrett plunged his face into the rain barrel and shook off the excess water. He’d passed the first test, talking with Jo’s pa. He wasn’t quite sure he’d passed the second test. Kissing Jo had been a revelation and a wonder. Because of his past, he’d learned to shut out physical needs and ignore loneliness. He’d thought he could bury his attraction to Jo, as well. He hadn’t counted on the emotional connection. The more time they spent together, the more familiarity developed.
He didn’t regret asking her to marry him, but he was terrified of the feeling stirring in his chest. Emotions leaked through the barriers he’d erected, spilling into his heart. How could a lifetime of steeling himself against affection crumble in one fell landslide?
He liked Jo, he admired her, but he couldn’t love her. He couldn’t let the madness take hold of him as it had his father. He owed that much to Jo.
To Jo and Cora, he reminded himself.
Garrett combed his fingers through his damp hair. He could do this. He was an honorable man.
Drawing in a steadying breath, he replaced his hat and straightened the brim. There’d been a murder, and he couldn’t let his personal troubles distract him from his job.
He had one witness in particular he needed to question, and he let the short walk along the boardwalk focus his scattered thoughts. As he swung open the mercantile door, the room stilled.
His head bent, David McCoy lounged against a display of leather belts while the mercantile owner’s pretty daughter, Mary Louise, held up a supple mahogany length for his approval. Garrett narrowed his gaze. A certain hitch in the boy’s posture indicated he was interested in more than belts.
Garrett sensed trouble brewing like a spring squall. Caleb had already made it clear he was interested in Mary Louise. If both brothers courted the same girl, a heap of trouble followed. Garrett didn’t need a blood feud on top of everything else—especially between Jo’s brothers.
The bell above the door chimed, and David smiled a greeting at someone hidden from Garrett’s view. “Hey, runt.”
Garrett followed the boy’s gaze and his pulse quickened. “JoBeth! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”
She limped into the room looking like an old-timer returning from war with the bandage over her cheek and another knotted over her hand. Why on earth was she up and about? The doctor had declared her fit, but she needed quiet.
His new fiancée tossed him a withering glare. “I can’t stay cooped up all day. I need supplies.”
Guilt gnawed at his chest. If he hadn’t asked her to stay with Cora, she’d be fine. Had the assault on the jail been an attempt to distract attention from the murder? Or were the two incidents separate? He couldn’t discount any possibilities just yet.
“Jo.” Garrett kept his voice low, conscious of the tightening crowd. “The doctor said you should be resting.”
“Then he should have brought me coffee,” she snapped.
Garrett hovered uncertainly near her elbow. Why hadn’t he thought to ask her if she needed anything that morning?
Because her enchanting kiss, a sweet combination of boldness and innocence, had distracted him. “Sit. I’ll get your supplies.”
“I’m perfectly capable of fetching a tin of coffee.”
“But...” Garrett started, then thought better. This didn’t seem like the best time to point out her surly behavior.
No doubt her wounds pained her. Garrett spied a sturdy wooden chair near the door and scraped the legs across the floor. He set it out of the path to the counter so she wouldn’t be bumped or jostled.
“Cora is with Ma.” Jo answered his unspoken question and took a hesitant step. “She woke and ate breakfast, but she went right back to sleep.”
“She’s bound to be tired. That was quite a ruckus last night.”
Garrett touched Jo’s elbow and guided her toward the waiting chair. Despite her exasperation, she leaned heavily on his arm. He threaded their fingers together, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder. He tilted his head a notch and caught the scent of her hair—feminine and fresh. Not flowery, but more like a field of cypress trees.
Garrett guided her around a pickle barrel and maneuvered her between two waist-high stacks of twenty-pound flour bags. They closed the distance to the chair entirely too quickly for his liking. With harnessed regret he released her hand and assisted her as she lowered herself onto the seat.
Rubbing the spot where her cheek had rested against his shoulder, he spoke. “You should be relaxing, not running around town. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”
“Hey.” David blocked his path. “You’re getting awfully friendly with my sister.”
“My fiancée.” Garrett emphasized the word for the growing crowd hanging on every nuance of their exchange.
“She is not.” David appeared horrified by the suggestion. “Jo’s never getting married.”
The source of their argument crossed her arms and huffed. “He’s telling the truth.”
She’d bit out the words like gristle.
“I might remind you,” Garrett began, a ball of anxiety knotting in his belly, “you asked me first.”
Their curious gawkers tittered. There had been a handful of people in the store when Garrett had arrived. Now that Jo had joined them, the whole town would have their faces pressed against the glass before long.
Twin spots of color appeared on Jo’s cheeks. “I didn’t come here to debate the facts.”
David swung his gaze between them, his expression incredulous. “When did you two start liking each other? When did you get engaged?”
Garrett cut a sidelong glance at Jo’s disgruntled expression. “Last night.”
“You’re his fiancée?” David threw back his head and chortled. “That’s the funniest thing I ever heard.”
His sister socked him in the gut. “Who’s laughing now, huh?”
“That hurt.” Scowling, David rubbed his belly. “You’re awful cranky for a bride.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Garrett stepped between them before their good-natured ribbing escalated. “We can celebrate later. Right now we need to get Jo back home.”
David sputtered. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you two from now on. No funny business before you’re married.”
Heat crept up Garrett’s neck. They’d kissed that morning, nothing more. And David wasn’t a mind reader—he didn’t know. “Show some respect for your sister, boy.” He faced Jo. “Do you have a list?”
“No, I don’t have a list. And I don’t need your help, either. I’m perfectly capable—” A fit of coughing silenced her outraged reply.
Garrett immediately dropped on one knee beside her chair. He rubbed her back until the coughing stilled, then felt her forehead with the back of his hand, relieved she didn’t have a fever. “You inhaled a lot of smoke last night. The doc said you’ll probably have a cough for a week or two.” He shook his head. “The least you can do is let me help.”
“Let us help,” David chimed in.
“Fine.” JoBeth huffed. “I need three candles, a tin of matches, a sliver of soap and a pound of coffee.”
In a flurry of arms and legs accompanied by the scuffle of boots, Garrett and David scrambled in opposite directions. Garrett scanned the shelves for soap and came up empty. David scooted past him, arrogantly displaying his haul of soap and candles.
The younger man had the advantage. He’d lived near the town his whole life and obviously knew the store like the back of his hand. By the time they both approached the counter, out of breath and huffing in unison, all Garrett had acquired was the pound of coffee.
They set their supplies on the counter, and Garrett reached in his pocket. He might not have found the items, but he was sure as shooting going to pay for them. David slapped a handful of coins onto the counter first. Garrett shoved them aside. David shoved them back. The mercantile owner cleared his throat.
The two competitors glared at each other.
Garrett set his jaw. “I’ll pay the bill. She’s my fiancée.”
“I’ll pay the bill. She’s my sister.”
The bell above the door chimed, and Garrett lifted his eyes heavenward. That’s just what they needed, more witnesses. They already had a rapt crowd following their every move. Good thing the town didn’t have a regular newspaper, or they’d be front-page news tomorrow. As Garrett surveyed the entrance, he realized Jo’s chair sat empty in the middle of the room.
David frowned. “Did she leave?”
“I think she left.”
“Why’d she do that?”
“I dunno.” Garrett shot the younger man a disgruntled glare. “It was probably something you said.”
While they’d argued, Jo had limped home alone. Garrett dashed for the door and searched the boardwalk, but she’d already disappeared. David joined him outside while a press of noses jostled against the windows behind them.
Great.
They might not be front-page news, but they’d definitely dominate the dinner conversation around Cimarron Springs tonight.
“Something I said?” David innocently rested his hand over his heart. “I was just trying to help. You’re the one acting like a bull in spring.”
The barb struck home. Garrett tightened his lips as the door behind them swung open once more. Covering his embarrassment, he faced Mr. Stuart. “How much do I owe you?”
“Miss McCoy already paid. She has an account.”
The three men stepped back inside, and the dozen or so people who’d crowded the store during the unexpected entertainment slowly dispersed. Still annoyed with the younger man’s interference, Garrett pointed a finger at David. “This is your fault. I’m her fiancé. I should pay.”
“I’m her brother.” David threw back his shoulders. “I should pay.”
Mr. Stuart tugged on his black-elastic arm garters. “If you fellows don’t mind me saying so, looks like the lady is doing fine taking care of herself.”
Garrett and David exchanged a guilty look. Feeling sheepish, Garrett nodded. “Has she always been so stubborn?”
David flashed an abashed grin. “That’s JoBeth for you.”
“Say, is there anything else your sister likes? You know, if you were buying her a gift?”
David grinned from ear to ear and bobbed his head. “Rosewater. She loves rosewater. Practically bathes in the stuff at home.”
“That’s odd,” Garrett replied slowly. “I’ve never noticed that particular scent around her before.”
David avoided his gaze and hung his head forlornly. “Probably can’t afford it since she lives in town. Too bad really.”
The younger man glanced up, his eyes wide and deceptively innocent.
Barely covering his grin, David fisted one hand near his mouth and cleared his throat. “We’d best get over to the jailhouse. Check out the damage from the fire.”
Their curious onlookers had dispersed, leaving them isolated. Garrett studied a display of tinned peaches. “Does Caleb know about you and Mary Louise?”
David gaped at the blunt question. “No.”
“Don’t let a woman come between you. If she’s playing the two of you against each other, she’s not worth it.”
The tips of the younger man’s ears reddened, and his hands curled at his sides, but he kept his expression neutral. “She knows who she wants.”
“That’s why you were at the saloon, isn’t it? You were approaching her pa?”
“She gave me permission to court her, but I needed her pa’s, too.”
Garrett stared through the front window at the row of shops across the way. They were all connected, each sharing a wall, supporting the other. He sure hoped Mary Louise didn’t drive a wedge between the brothers, but he was afraid it was already too late. “Fair enough. Why don’t you go on ahead of me. I’ll catch up to you at the jailhouse in a minute.”
Garrett had felt the mercantile owner’s glare boring into his back during their talk, and decided he’d better give the man another chance to speak. After the door closed behind David, Garrett crossed the room and braced his hands on either side of the spot Mr. Stuart had been rubbing for the past ten minutes.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the marble. Must be quite a stain you keep cleaning.”
A telling muscle ticked along Mr. Stuart’s jaw. He stuffed the rag into the belted tie of his apron. “I didn’t shoot Mr. Hodges. I didn’t like him. But I didn’t kill him.”
“You threatened to kill him. On more than one occasion, as I recall.”
“He threatened me enough plenty of times, too, you know. I’ve also threatened to shoot that McCoy boy, Caleb, if he doesn’t stop sniffing around my daughter. And he ain’t dead yet.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” Garrett drawled. “Or things won’t look too good for you, will they? Besides, the McCoys are a good family.”
“Mary Louise has better choices.”
“Like who?”
“Like someone from St. Louis, or Omaha or Chicago. She’s deserves better than the fellows around here.”
“She’ll make a fine choice, I’m sure,” Garrett replied evasively.
No matter what happened, the courting of Mary Louise Stuart was going to end badly, that much he knew for certain.
Mr. Stuart rested his knuckles on the counter and tilted his head. “You really gonna marry that McCoy girl?”
Garrett’s hackles rose at the obvious disbelief in the man’s voice. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering. She didn’t seem like the sort who’d marry.”
“Guess I changed her mind.” Garrett raised an eyebrow, challenging the man to dispute his answer. Clearly realizing he’d overstepped his boundaries, Mr. Stuart wisely remained silent.
Garrett ta
mped down his fuming anger. He didn’t like the folks around town and their malicious gossip. And he especially didn’t like people questioning Jo’s suitability for marriage. He sometimes felt that her very strength was an affront to some weaker folks. She put up a good wall, pretending she didn’t have any feelings on the matter, but Garrett suspected otherwise.
Mr. Stuart leaned in with a whisper, “Say, don’t listen to David when it comes to his sister. He’s pulling your leg. If you really want to buy her a present, she’s had her eye on this.”
He reached beneath the counter and retrieved a boy’s leather hat.
Garrett accepted the offering and circled the sturdy brim in his hands. The brown leather was supple enough for comfort yet sturdy enough for practicality. The stitching was close and even and thick for long wear. A perfect gift for his new fiancée.
“I’ll take it.” Garrett glanced around the shop and spied the pretty yellow bonnet he’d noticed earlier. “And that one, too.”
Cora would like the flashy piece. She seemed drawn to brightly colored things with an abundance of frills and lace. Once again he was struck by the difference between the two females and their obvious connection. “If you think of anything else, you let me know.”
Mr. Stuart nodded but kept his gaze averted. Garrett took one last look around the mercantile and caught Mary Louise staring at him. She hastily ducked behind a tower of tinned beans when he caught her gaze. Garrett ran his hands down his face. This town was full of undercurrents, and if he wasn’t careful, one of those undercurrents was bound to pull him under.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days following the fire, Jo paced before the jailhouse in anxious vigil. They’d boarded up the front window, and she missed the etched glass. When Garrett appeared, she gingerly waved her arm to catch his attention. “Marshal Cain,” she called. “Garrett.”
He faced her, and for a brief moment her resolve wavered. As the marshal approached, she surreptitiously pleated her new moss-green calico skirts. Today he wore his hat low over his forehead and his dark hair touched his collar. He really did need a haircut, but she hoped he put it off. His shaggy locks lent him an enigmatic air of danger that sent her heartbeat racing.
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