The Marshal's Ready-Made Family. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ