The Marshal's Ready-Made Family

by Sherri Shackelford

  Bert waved his gun. “I’m busting you out. We’re taking the train to Guthrie.”

  Tom shook his head. “It won’t work. Even if we bust out of here, there’ll be a posse waiting for us at the next stop.”

  “I got us some insurance,” his brother declared. “I been trailing the marshal here. Figured I owed it to him after he had you and me followed. A man who goes to church on a Tuesday must have some powerful sinning to confess.” Bert shoved Garrett forward. “The folks of Cimarron Springs have entrusted their lives to the son of a murderer.”

  Tom’s eyes widened.

  His brother cackled. “His pa shot his ma then killed himself. The marshal isn’t gonna want anyone knowing that, are you?”

  He jabbed Garrett in the ribs again. Garrett grunted.

  Tom remained seated. “I’m still not going.”

  “You are the dumbest son of—”

  “Not that dumb.” Tom lifted his doleful gaze. “Since I’ve been here, I sobered up. I’ve been remembering bits and pieces of what happened that night. I didn’t shoot Mr. Hodges. You did.”

  Bert sneered. “I was doing you a favor. We coulda opened the store across the street. Hodges was sitting on a gold mine of stock. We coulda bought it cheap.” He spat at Tom’s feet. “Who goes and confesses to something they didn’t do?”

  “I figured it must have been me. My gun was missing bullets...I’d been losing at poker to Hodges for an hour and then he wound up dead. I didn’t know what to think.” Tom’s expression hardened. “You wanted them to believe I did it, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t get yourself in a lather. I figured if they caught up with you, everyone would think it was an accident. You’re always shooting off that gun.”

  Tom lunged toward the bars. “Get out of here. I got a wife and kid. I’m clearing my name and staying.”

  “You can’t clear your name without ruining mine. Now let’s get out of here.”

  “No.” Tom sat back down and gripped the straw mattress. “I’m not like you. It’s been eating away at me, thinking I killed someone. I’m not like you at all.”

  Garrett looked between the two brothers. So similar and yet so different. They’d been raised by the same parents, reared in the same town. Yet Bert had gone bad. Worse even than Tom because there was no going back for him.

  Bert cocked the gun and leveled his hand at Tom.

  The color drained from his brother’s face. “You’d shoot your own kin?”

  “You’re too stupid for your own good, Tom.”

  He squeezed the trigger and Garrett lunged. The shot went wide. Garrett tossed the keys into the cell to give Tom a fighting chance and reached for the shooter. The move slowed him down. Bert leveled his gun at Garrett’s forehead.

  “Wait!” Tom hollered. “Don’t kill him. I’ll go with you.”

  He clumsily reached around the bars and jammed the key into the lock from the awkward angle. “You’re right, I can’t stay. We’ll figure it out together.”

  Bert wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. “That’s better.”

  He flipped Garrett around and twisted his arm behind his back. Garrett cringed and arched his back.

  Bert kicked him forward. “Get out there ahead of us, Tom. I’ll follow.”

  Garrett was going to die. He knew it in his heart, in his soul. There was no way Bert was going to let him live. He thought of the morning he’d spent with Jo and cursed himself.

  He’d lost his one opportunity to tell her he loved her.

  Time.

  He’d asked for time, and he’d just run out.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jo hugged Jack Elder and stepped back. “Don’t wait so long between visits.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And give Elizabeth my love.”

  “I will.” He glanced at someone behind her. “David?”

  Jo spun around as her brother skidded to a halt before them. “It’s Garrett.”

  At the panic in her brother’s voice, her heart shot ahead three beats.

  “He came into the jail with Bert Walby,” David gasped. “The prisoner’s brother. He told me to leave, but it was real strange. He told me to tell you that he appreciated the help of a fellow lawman.”

  Jack dropped his bags and began rummaging through the contents. He pulled out a pistol and spun the chamber, then stuck it into the back waistband of his pants. “You armed?” he asked David.

  Her brother nodded.

  “Do you think they’ll come out the front or the back?”

  “Bert came in through the front door. I’m guessing that’s the way he’ll leave.”

  Jack squinted toward the street. “All right. You circle around back, just in case. I’ll watch the front.”

  Jo blocked their exit. “Give me the extra gun.”

  “No.” Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m the best shot. He’ll be holding Garrett as a hostage. That’s the only reason he would have made David leave. I’m the best shot if there’s an opening.”

  The men exchanged a look, and Jack reluctantly nodded. He handed her the gun, keeping his grip on the barrel. “Stay out of sight. If I see an opportunity, I’ll give you the signal. When you fire, try to nick him, just for a distraction. I’ll make the final shot.”

  Her mouth dry, Jo nodded.

  David circled the row of connected buildings toward the rear of the jailhouse. She and Jack dashed down the street. Jack cleared the boardwalk of people while Jo crouched behind a rain barrel and leveled her gun toward the door. She hadn’t told Garrett she loved him because she was afraid of spooking him. What if it was too late?

  An eternity passed before Tom stepped out. He glanced left and right, his expression stunned. Garrett came next, his arm twisted behind him at an odd angle. Bert cowered behind him.

  Garrett scanned the street and for a moment Jo thought he was looking at her. Then his gaze slipped away. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Bert caught sight of Jack and stopped short. “Out of my way, or I’ll shoot the marshal.”

  “You won’t get far without a hostage.”

  “Far enough.”

  “You willing to take that risk?”

  Jo aimed her gun.

  Bert yanked Garrett to the right, searching the deserted street as he calculated his odds.

  Jack gave her the signal, a slight shake of his hand.

  Jo fired.

  Garrett shouted and went to his knees, clutching the wound at his thigh.

  Jack fired almost simultaneously.

  Bert jerked. He glanced at his chest, astonished by the growing bloom of red covering his white shirt. His knees buckled and he collapsed onto his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the clear blue sky.

  Jo emerged from her hiding spot and crouched before her wounded husband. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, his expression rife with amusement. “You shot me, didn’t you?”

  “It’s only a flesh wound.” Jo pressed her hand against the bleeding.

  He twisted to the side and unfurled his blue bandanna from his back pocket. She quickly tied it around his thigh.

  Jack leaned over her shoulder. “I told you to nick the bad guy, not the hostage.”

  Jo grimaced. “My way was better. It gave you a clearer shot at Bert.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and realized Tom was sobbing over his dead brother. Her heart ached at the sight.

  Jack stepped before her and blocked her view. “Let’s get your husband inside.”

  He hooked his arm beneath Garrett’s shoulder. Doc Johnsen, drawn by the commotion, followed them, his bag in his hands. Jo trailed behind the three.

 
Since the holding cell was the only place for Garrett to lie down, they shuffled him into the back.

  The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur as Doc Johnsen sterilized the wound and added a few stitches.

  The handsome, blond-haired doctor smiled at Jo. “Remind me not to get on your bad side. If you’ll shoot your own husband...”

  Jo scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’ll live?”

  “He’ll live.”

  Garrett motioned at the doc. “I need a moment with my wife. Alone.”

  The doc nodded. “Don’t walk unless you absolutely have to.” He adjusted his hat and closed his satchel. “Don’t put any strain on that leg. I’ll be back in a week to take out the stitches.”

  After he left, an unnatural quiet permeated the room.

  Suddenly shy, Jo blurted, “Are you sore at me for shooting you?”

  “Nope.”

  She grinned.

  Garrett frowned. “I’m furious with you for putting yourself in danger.” His soft voice blunted his harsh words. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “No.” Jo held his hand to her chest. “I haven’t been very brave during our marriage. I didn’t want you to reject me. I should have let you marry some pretty girl who would always know the right thing to say, but I was selfish. I wanted you for myself.”

  “Hey,” he spoke sternly. “No one gets to speak badly about JoBeth Cain. Not even you.”

  She blushed. “Let me finish. When I realized you were in danger, I died a little bit inside. I love—”

  “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  He placed two fingers against her lips. “Don’t finish that sentence until I’ve said my peace.”

  Jo sucked in a breath. Whatever happened, she was prepared to face the truth.

  “I lied to you.” Garrett drew himself into a seated position as Jo perched on the edge of the bed. He tried not to let the disappointment in her expressive face waylay his confession. “My parents didn’t die from smallpox. My father killed my mother and turned the gun on himself.”

  She clutched his hand tighter against her chest, and her heartbeat quickened beneath his fingers. “He wasn’t a well man. He’d served in the war. He’d been wounded. He drank to ease the pain and when that didn’t work, he turned to laudanum. He started having hallucinations. He thought my mother was an enemy soldier. He couldn’t live with what he’d done.”

  Her mouth worked. “Did you see—?”

  “No,” Garrett hastily replied. “My sister and I were at school. A neighbor heard the shot. He found my father babbling like a wild man. He left to fetch help. I guess. I guess it was too much.”

  “You said you worked on the docks after that?”

  “Deirdre was eighteen. We tried to live on our own for a while. It didn’t work out. We stayed with my mother’s uncle after that. And my cousin.”

  “Edward? The one who wanted custody of Cora?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t have much use for me. It was difficult...on my aunt and uncle. I looked too much like my father. My uncle and I fought...” His voice trailed off. “I should never have become a lawman.” He laughed humorlessly. “It’s not such a big deal if a blacksmith has a murderer for a father, but a lawman is held to higher standards.”

  “Garrett...”

  “I don’t know what will happen when the town council hears about my past. I don’t know if I can keep my job. We’ll go someplace. Maybe I can apprentice as a blacksmith after all.”

  He smiled encouragingly, but tears welled in her eyes. His heart sank. “You know, never mind. You deserve better. We’ll get an annulment. I’ll—”

  She mirrored his earlier gesture, pressing two fingers against his lips. “I’m sorry you thought your father’s actions would change the way I feel about you. What he did makes me ache inside for you. For your family.”

  Garrett closed his eyes against the memories. “I was terrified of being like him. Then I saw Tom today. His brother wanted him to escape, but he couldn’t. They’re brothers, but they’re different. Tom didn’t have it in him. They’d faced the same difficulties and chosen separate paths. I’m different from my father.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I knew I loved you, but I couldn’t tell you until I made my peace with God. I’d blamed Him all my life. I thought I’d been singled out for punishment. But then I realized I was only punishing myself. I didn’t want to lose anyone I loved again, so I drove them all away. You changed that. Once I forgave my father, it was like I forgave myself.”

  She offered him a watery smile. “I love you, too.”

  His throat worked. “Are you certain? Because if my past is too much for you, I understand. If we have to start over, it’ll be hard.”

  Jo snatched his coat lapels and fisted the material in her hands, jerking him upright until their noses were a hairbreadth apart. “If you leave me, I’ll shoot you. Again.”

  Garrett grinned. “I believe you.”

  He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. The past melted away, and he felt new, reborn.

  She pressed her hands against his chest and frowned. “Your leg must hurt something fierce. You should be home where you can rest.”

  Garrett brushed the pad of his thumb over the faint scar on her cheek. “Not until I get this right.” He sucked in a fortifying breath. “I’m sorry I lied. I’ve loved you since the moment you wrapped that snake around your arm. You’re brave and honest and I can’t wait to wake up in the morning just so I can see you.” He paused. “You bring light to my world. You helped restore my faith in God. In myself.”

  She launched herself into his arms and hugged him tight. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear.”

  “Then I’ll say it to you every day for the rest of your life. I love you.”

  Epilogue

  He didn’t show it, but Jo knew her husband was nervous. She squeezed his hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll stay together.”

  Cora and Maxwell played marbles in the dirt beneath the sun. In light of his past, Garrett had offered to tender his resignation. The town council had met in the empty schoolhouse to discuss the matter.

  Jo didn’t figure the council had any reason for voting him out, but Garrett felt it was important, and she respected his wishes. They were waiting outside the schoolhouse while the decision was made.

  Following the shooting, they’d buried Bert in the small cemetery outside the church. Tom and his wife had left for Oklahoma City soon afterward, with Tom declaring his need to start over.

  David stepped out the door, and Garrett stiffened beside her.

  Her brother winked at them and sketched a wave. “They’re letting me keep my job.”

  Garrett stood and shook the younger man’s hand. “I’m proud of you. Proud to have had you as my deputy.”

  Before David could reply, Jack Elder emerged. He approached Garrett, and Jo held her breath.

  “I don’t know whether you’ll think this is good news or bad news.”

  Jo fisted her hands.

  “They want you for five more years.”

  She jumped to her feet. Garrett stood beside her and caught her around the waist.

  Keeping his arm around Jo, Garrett shook Jack’s hand. “Thank you for everything. I hope to meet your wife and children one day.”

  “Might be sooner than you think. Elizabeth is beside herself with worry. My brother, John, set off on his cattle drive and we haven’t had word in a month. She’ll be up here soon to scold him herself when he arrives.”

  Cora tugged on her skirts. “I beat him. I beat Maxwell at marbles!”

  Maxwell stood and dusted his trousers.

  Her husband sighed. “You have to be on your toes around these ladies.”

 
“I’ll try again next Sunday when you come for supper.”

  Garrett groaned. “Your pa already asked me to balance the gate again.”

  “You adore my family,” Jo said.

  “Almost as much as I adore you.” He moved his lips closer to her ear. “I thank God every day for bringing us together.”

  “Me, too,” Jo replied simply.

  Despite all the tragedy in his life, the shadows in his eyes had abated as his faith had grown. And she never tired of the way he looked at her.

  As though he saw who she really was, even with her faults, and loved her all the more.

  “Say.” Jo pressed a kiss against his cheek. “You said I gave you a gift on our wedding day, but you never told me what it was.”

  “Peace. You gave Cora and me peace,” he continued, ignoring their rapt audience. “Our family is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

  Tears pricked behind her eyes. She’d set out to win the marshal’s heart, and he’d gone and turned the tables on her.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from HEARTS REKINDLED by Patty Smith Hall.

  Dear Reader,

  From the moment JoBeth McCoy appeared in Winning the Widow’s Heart, she demanded her own story. Jo is feisty and independent and always speaks her mind—except when it comes to her feelings. I couldn’t wait to give Jo a hero who saw her true beauty and spirit. Someone who would show her that her vulnerabilities could also be her strengths. I found the perfect match for my spirited heroine in Marshal Garrett Cain, a man with a kind heart and a shadowed past.

  Sometimes people ask me where I get my ideas. Here’s my secret—the characters write their own stories. I simply corral their adventures within the pages of a novel. I’ve grown to love Cimarron Springs and the cast of characters who clamor around my head, each begging for his or her own adventure.

  Thanks to each of you who take time from your busy schedules to write a kind note and let me know you appreciate my stories. I treasure each letter and email.

  Wishing you many blessings,

  Sherri Shackelford