The Marshal's Ready-Made Family

by Sherri Shackelford

  They broke apart when they reached his tethered horse, and the heat of her touch lingered against his side. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you wait inside while I take care of Blue.”

  “I’d rather hear about your day.” She trailed him into the barn and opened the first stall door. She grasped the top slat, then rested her chin on her knuckles. “Word in town has it that Tom Walby’s been arrested for Mr. Hodges’s murder.

  Garrett lifted the saddle off Blue with a grunt. “Word travels fast.”

  “Did he really kill him?”

  Garrett met her sorrowful gaze. “That’s how it appears. He doesn’t even remember what happened that night. His day in court would have gone easier if Tom had come forward sooner.”

  Tugging off his gloves, he approached her, nervous at the soft reproach in her gaze. “I had to arrest him, you know that.”

  “I know.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “There’s no love lost between us, but I’m worried about his wife. His son.”

  “Tom can’t change the past. He can only move forward.”

  She tossed him a cryptic smile. “I thought you said people didn’t change.”

  “Can’t a man be wrong sometimes?”

  “We all get to be wrong sometimes,” she answered enigmatically, then straightened her shoulders, throwing off the somber mood. “Say, do you realize we just had our first fight?”

  Her announcement threw him off for a moment. “I guess so.”

  Jo shut the stall bar behind him. “That wasn’t bad, was it?”

  “You’re right.” He absorbed her words, hoping he didn’t look as addled as he felt. “It wasn’t.”

  Jo tilted her head. “You feeling all right?”

  For the first time in a long while, he felt strong in spirit. He was addled, all right. “Great. I’m feeling better than I have in a month of Sundays. I’ll finish mucking out the stalls and then I’ll help you with dinner. Unless you want to rest first,” he added quickly.

  She’d perked up during the conversation, but he sensed she’d had an exhausting day.

  “Nope,” Jo replied. “I think I’m getting my second wind.”

  She sketched a wave and retreated into the house.

  Mulling over the revelation, Garrett set about his chores. As he lifted another pitchfork full of hay into the milk cow’s stall, his sense of bewilderment increased.

  He’d spent their brief marriage walking like a man crossing grizzly country, tiptoeing around and dreading a confrontation. But they’d actually survived their first argument. Jo hadn’t cried, and he hadn’t yelled. All in all, the experience was nothing as he’d expected. For the first time since he’d made his hasty proposal, he felt more optimism than fear.

  Staying away from her had been a good choice. In a few more months, when they had a solid foundation, he’d tell her the truth. First, he needed to foster their relationship without the distracting pull of attraction.

  A sound caught his attention and he turned. Jo stood in the open double barn doors, her outline silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. She’d changed into a pretty blue calico dress with lace at the collar.

  Garrett couldn’t see her features and he shielded his eyes against the sun. She approached him, her steps more hesitant than usual, a basket hooked over her elbow and an unfamiliar red tartan blanket thrown over one shoulder.

  “Is it suppertime already?” Garrett asked, brushing his hands together.

  Jo held the basket aloft with both hands. “I thought we’d do something different tonight.”

  She tilted her head, and Garrett glanced behind him, feeling as if he’d missed something. “Like what?”

  “A picnic.”

  “Ah, okay.” He glanced down at his dusty clothes and Jo’s neat dress. “I’ll be right back.”

  Garrett stepped into the house, dashed upstairs, rinsed his hands and face in the washbasin and slicked back his hair. Cora was staying with the McCoys overnight, and he sensed a difference in Jo this evening.

  He slipped into a clean jacket and considered changing the rest of his outfit, then reconsidered. He didn’t want to keep her waiting. After a final assessment before the looking glass, he loped down the stairs and across the clearing toward the barn.

  Jo lifted her head as he approached. “There’s a lovely spot by the stream.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll carry the basket.”

  With a shy smile, Jo handed over the burden. Garrett hooked the handles beneath his arm. On a whim, he stuck out his opposite elbow. To his surprise, Jo looped her hand through the crook. His chest swelled.

  Though Jo normally charged ahead on any journey, she kept the pace slow and measured. The summer days had lengthened, and the heat had given the late afternoon a lazy feel. A peaceful lassitude stole over him.

  Nature had bloomed over the countryside, brilliant and unrestrained. As they neared the creek, sheltering trees rose before them, their leaves saturated with emerald-green.

  Jo touched his sleeve with her free hand. “David caught up with me on my way home from Mrs. Sundberg’s. That’s how I found out about Tom.”

  “Your brother should have given you a ride.”

  “I wanted to walk. I needed to think. And of course I had to ask him about Mary Louise.”

  Garrett recalled how his deputy had been mooning around the office. “How is the courting progressing?”

  “Excellent. He’s ready for marriage.”

  “Her father won’t be pleased.”

  “Nothing short of a fortune will please Mr. Stuart. But if Mary is content, that’s all that matters.”

  “What about you?” Garrett asked, gathering his courage. “Are you content?”

  She tilted her head, considering the question. “Cora laughs, and she seems happy and healthy.”

  Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. She pointed out the site for the picnic and unfurled the tartan blanket draped over her arm.

  The girl who’d boldly demanded his hand in marriage had disappeared, leaving behind this shy, beautiful woman. There was an air about her, a sense of hesitant determination.

  Garrett helped arrange the covering. “Is this blanket new?”

  The blush on her cheeks intensified, and his mood soared. She’d bought the blanket specifically for this outing. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

  He set down the picnic basket, and Jo flopped onto the edge of the blanket.

  She plucked a black-eyed Susan from a scraggly patch of wildflowers and twirled the stem. “David said Tom was sweet on me growing up.”

  “I told you so.” Garrett raised his eyebrows, daring her to refute him.

  Jo playfully chucked him on the arm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  The sun hovered low on the horizon, blazing red behind a thin cover of clouds. Jo’s hair fluttered in the breeze, pulled loose from its bindings. Instead of wearing her dark hair in a single braid down her back, she’d been twisting several braids in a knot at the base of her neck. He realized she’d been taking more care with her appearance lately and the result was breathtaking.

  She’d always been beautiful and now she was stunning. Other people had noticed, too. With pride and not a little jealousy, he’d seen gentlemen tip their hats to her on the boardwalk. As much as he wanted the secret of Jo’s allure all to himself, he liked seeing the townspeople react to the radiance he’d always seen, a beauty the folks around her had taken for granted.

  He reached for a stray lock and tucked the soft strands behind the gentle curve of her ear. “You’ve been wearing your hair different. I like it.”

  “Thank you.” She smoothed a stray lock, her movements jerky and self-conscious. “I guess I was afraid of trying something new.”

  Her announcement stunned him. “I c
an’t imagine you being afraid of anything.”

  “You’re the second person who’s said that to me today.”

  He thought he’d been the only one in town who saw Jo, really saw the person inside, but he’d been just as blind as the rest of them.

  She caught his gaze and smiled shyly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Of course.”

  Secrets and lies. How much of his life had been shaped by secrets and lies? He went through all the false motions—smiling when he was sad, laughing when he was angry and never telling anyone of his past. He was exhausted from hiding, exhausted from covering his true feelings.

  Jo cleared her throat. “Remember when you asked me what Ma and I talked about?” She plucked at the weeds near the edge of the blanket. “We made our peace. I didn’t like helping my ma with midwife duties. We had a big fight about it a couple of years ago. Everyone thinks I’m tough, but I’m not. I’m afraid of childbirth.”

  “That seems normal to me.”

  She absently braided several long, green stalks. “None of my friends from school are. They all have babies.”

  Garrett handed her a black-eyed Susan, and she delicately wove it into her chain.

  “That doesn’t mean they’re not scared,” he said.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  She needed his honesty right then, but he couldn’t reveal his shame just yet, not when their budding relationship was this new and fragile. “I’m afraid of not being the man I want to be. Of hurting someone I love.”

  Jo stilled at the revealing admission. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know.” His gaze dipped to her lips.

  Something happened then that he could not explain later. One moment he was revealing his deepest fear, the next moment she was wrapped in his arms. The evening sun warmed his back, and the air around them smelled deliciously of new leaves and freshly tilled earth.

  Stirred by a depth of emotion he hadn’t thought himself capable of, he surrendered to the foreign sensations. The embrace was right and good, a culmination of the feelings he’d kept rigidly in check since the moment he’d met JoBeth McCoy. His wife.

  Nothing in his past had prepared him for the feelings rocking his carefully ordered world.

  Realizing the enormity of what he was doing, he abruptly let go. Jo stared at him, her body still, not even breathing for a moment.

  A shy smile spread across her face. “When I asked you to marry me last spring, you asked what would happen if I ever wanted children of my own.”

  “You said we’d cross that bridge when we got there.”

  “We’re there.”

  His chest constricted. He knew what she was telling him. She wanted children. She wanted a real marriage. Garrett stood and stumbled back a step, putting some distance between them.

  He was no better than any other addict. Like Tom Walby swearing off drink, he’d sworn to keep his distance. He’d broken that promise. “I can’t. I’m sorry. But I just can’t.”

  What if he hurt her? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t touch her and he hadn’t even kept that promise for a day—for an hour. He was a weak man, and weak men did not make good husbands.

  “Why?” Jo demanded. “Is it me?”

  “No, of course not.” He raked his hands through his hair. “You’re wonderful. It’s me. I’m not the man you think of I am.”

  “Then who are you?”

  Her words shot through him like a bullet. The question was deceptively simple, the answer needlessly complicated. He was a flawed man. No better than Tom. No better than his own father. He made promises to himself he didn’t keep. Promises to his family he broke.

  “I’m not the man you think I am,” he repeated, his voice a jagged whisper. “I can’t.”

  She deserved a whole man. And he wouldn’t be whole until he made his peace with God, and with himself. Only then could he be a man worthy of Jo’s love.

  Love.

  “Give me time.” He dragged in a ragged breath. “Please just give more time.”

  As a cloud drifted over the sun, the radiance of the afternoon leached away. The budding confidence in Jo’s eyes faded into a dull torpor.

  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

  The 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 carryi
ng 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.”