The Marshal's Ready-Made Family. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ café bustled with activity. Plates clanked together and the low hum of voices surrounded them. The succulent aroma of fried chicken filled the air. Garrett pulled out a chair for Cora and Jo in turn, then caught the curious glance of a middle-aged woman in a burgundy bustled dress.

      He touched his forehead in greeting and leaned nearer Jo’s ear. “Is it all right? You and I eating together. I don’t want any gossip.”

      Jo rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. We’re fine.”

      For an instant he thought he saw a flash of disappointment. The moment passed so quickly, he shook off the odd feeling. Why would Jo want people gossiping about them?

      Starched white cloths draped the wooden tables, and mismatched china covered the surface. The decor was a curious blend of faded elegance and homespun crafts. In the center of the table, a pint-size milk jug tinted a clear shade of blue-green held a posy of coneflowers.

      Garrett kicked back in his chair and studied his surroundings. Most of the people in town were familiar by now, and they’d moved passed their initial wariness. A few gentlemen nodded in his direction, and Mrs. Schlautman flashed him a smile.

      Jo rested her menu on the table. “How’d you end up here, anyway?”

      He couldn’t hold back a grin. “You sure are direct.”

      “Is that bad?”

      “No, no. I like it.” Too much.

      Garrett planted his elbows on the table and fisted his hands. “I was bored. I needed a challenge. When I heard what I was up against, what the previous sheriff had let go on around here, I knew this was the perfect job for me.”

      “Will you stay? After you’re done cleaning up the town and all?”

      “Hadn’t planned on it.” His gaze slid toward Cora. “But things have changed.”

      Their waitress bustled past and took their orders, momentarily interrupting his troubled thoughts. Jo and the woman exchanged a few pleasantries, their friendship obvious by their banter. The woman returned a moment later with a pencil and paper, and Cora happily accepted the distracting items.

      Garrett scratched his head. “I never even thought of that.”

      “You’re new to all this. You’ll learn.” Jo pressed her thumb against the tines of her fork. “Do you have any other family? Someone who could help out for a bit?”

      “Just a cousin and his wife.” Garrett glanced away. “They won’t be much help.”

      “I thought you said you didn’t have any family.”

      “None that claim me.” He ducked his head. “I guess that’s different than no kin at all.”

      There was no love lost between him and Edward. For a time after his parents’ deaths, Garrett had stayed with Edward’s family. They’d been mortified by the scandal, and resentful of the added burden of two extra children. Especially Garrett, who bore a striking resemblance to his father.

      He shook his head. “It must seem strange to you.”

      “I’ve never wanted for brothers, that’s for certain.” Jo drummed her fingers on the table. “Is your cousin a lawman, too?”

      “Nope. He owns a sawmill back East. My father was a doctor. I’m the only one who went West.”

      “I guess that explains your parents’ deaths.”

      His heart stuttered and stalled. “Explains what?”

      “You know, the smallpox. Doctors get exposed to all that kind of stuff all the time.”

      His blood gradually resumed pumping again, moving sluggishly through his frozen veins.

      “Of course,” he replied.

      These people respected him, gave him their trust. What would they do if they knew of his past? A lawman, the son of a murderer. They’d run him out of town on a rail. If he and Cora settled here, he’d have to guard the secret with even greater care. He wasn’t alone anymore.

      Garrett braced his left palm on the table and his right one against his chest.

      Jo leaned forward, a crease between her delicately arched brows. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

      “Fine.”

      Avoiding her penetrating gaze, he glanced instead at her fingers. They were long and tapered, the nails blunt and neatly rounded. A smudge of ink darkened the tip of her index finger.

      He turned from the distraction. Cora scribbled away, her head bent in concentration. Noting his interest, she lifted her paper and proudly displayed her picture. Even with her rudimentary skills, Garrett recognized his sister and her husband on either side of Cora, their hands linked together.

      Cora’s lower lip trembled. “Look. I made my family.”

      His throat tight, Garrett knelt before her and pulled her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and a single sob shook her delicate body.

      “Oh, dear,” the woman in burgundy exclaimed, half rising.

      Jo gently waved the concerned woman aside. “She’ll be all right. She’s right where she needs to be.”

      Grateful for Jo’s assistance, Garrett closed his eyes.

      After Cora had calmed, he took his seat once more. Jo resumed the conversation as if there’d been no break, and her light chatter was a grateful distraction. As he watched her and Cora laugh, he let his mind wander. What would it be like, courting Jo? Actually courting her like a proper gentleman?

      Garrett spread his work-roughened fingers over the stark white tablecloth. No use thinking the impossible. She deserved better. What if the evil that had snapped his father’s soul lived within Garrett? He couldn’t take the risk.

      Jo rested her hand over his. “You don’t have to be alone in this. I hope we can be friends.”

      “I’d like that.”

      Sour guilt swelled in his throat for even thinking about Jo romantically. She deserved someone who could love her with his whole heart, without reservations. Garrett wasn’t that man.

      * * *

      That evening, Jo returned to her solitary room at the boardinghouse. She lit a single candle and perched on the edge of the bed. Without Cora for company, the room seemed unnaturally quiet.

      Lately she’d begun to realize what a lonely place she’d carved out for herself. Rising at dawn each day, spending her shift at the telegraph office, home each evening. Every other weekend she helped her family on the farm. She kept herself busy, sure, but even that felt false.

      Like at the mercantile, when Mr. Stuart ran low on supplies and spread out the remaining stock to make it look as if there were more goods available. That’s how Jo felt lately, like she was spreading herself thin to make it appear there was more to her СКАЧАТЬ