Sherri Shackelford - The Marshal's Ready-Made Family

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A MARRIAGE OF NECESSITYGentlemen don’t court feisty straight-shooters like JoBeth McCoy. Just as she’s resigned to a lifetime alone, a misunderstanding forces the spunky telegraph operator into a marriage of convenience. Wedding the town’s handsome new marshal offers JoBeth a chance at motherhood, caring for the orphaned little girl she’s come to love.Garrett Cain will lose guardianship of his niece, Cora, if he stays single, but he knows no woman could accept the secrets he’s hidden about his past. The lawman can’t jeopardize Cora’s future by admitting the truth. Yet when unexpected danger in the small town threatens to expose Garrett’s long-buried secret, only a leap of faith can turn a makeshift union into a real family.

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“That’s a five-year-old child for you, all right. As curious as a kitten and just as precious.” Edith placed a Mason jar filled with lemonade before the marshal. “You better drink something or you’ll get parched.”

A flush of color crept up the marshal’s neck. “I guess I’ve been around Cora too much. I can’t stop talking all of a sudden.”

“Children don’t come with instructions, that’s for certain.” Her ma set out a loaf of bread and a pat of butter on wooden slab.

“I know.” The marshal slathered his bread with the softened butter. “Like, how often should you wash them? What kind of soap should you use? I only have lye soap. Is that bad for girls?” A note of desperation crept into his voice. “I don’t know what to do. What if I do the wrong thing?”

“The fact that you’re worried makes you a better parent than most others.” Edith dried her hands on the towel and crossed the room. “The bad folks aren’t worried about what’s right and wrong, you know?” She perched on a chair beside him and patted his hand. “You’re doing fine.”

The marshal raked his free hand through his hair. He paused for a moment, his Adam’s apple working. “She cries at night.”

“Of course she does,” Jo exclaimed, her heart twisting at his words. “She’s lost both of her parents. She’s lost her home. That’s enough to make anybody cry.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it passed quickly. Jo ached to reach out and comfort him, but she knew better. She never had words for times like these—soothing, comforting words. He’d said it himself over lunch last week. She was direct.

With grudging admiration, Jo studied her mother. While the rest of the McCoys were dark-haired with green eyes, Mrs. McCoy stood out with her pale blue eyes and dark blond hair. Even the streak of gray at her temple lent her an air of elegance.

Jo had never really valued cosseting before. Blunt truths were faster and more efficient. Now she realized there was a time and a place for coddling.

Marshal Cain pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what to do,” he repeated.

“Love her,” Jo replied. “Just like you’re doing.”

“Jo is right.” Edith smiled and patted his shoulder. “Love goes a long way.”

The door swung open, and her brother Caleb stepped into the room surrounded by a noxious aroma. Jo waved a hand before her nose. “Gracious, did you take a swim in Pa’s cologne?”

The tips of her brother’s ears reddened. “Mind your own business, runt.” He strutted across the room in his crisp blue shirt and navy trousers.

Caleb was the oldest of the boys at twenty-two, tall and slender with the distinctive McCoy coloring of dark brown hair and bright green eyes. They all took after their pa’s looks in that regard, though Ely McCoy was short and stout. Jo was the only child who’d inherited his lack of height. Much to her chagrin, she was embarrassingly petite.

Being small with five younger—and much taller—brothers had taught her a thing or two about strategy. “I think someone is going into town. This must be your third trip to the mercantile this week.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Jo studied the jagged tips of her blunt fingernails. “It’s just that you’re not the only one visiting the mercantile on a regular basis.”

The owner’s daughter was a pretty blonde with blue eyes and a ready smile, and since Mary Louise had turned eighteen and started working behind the counter, the store’s revenue had leaped tenfold.

Caleb fisted his hands. “Who else have you been noticing?”

“There’re too many to count. You better screw up your courage for courting or she’s gonna slip away.”

Her brother glanced around the room, caught sight of Marshal Cain and stopped short. “Evening, sir.” Caleb straightened and tucked his shirttail into his pants before glaring at Jo. “It doesn’t matter because I don’t care. I’m going into town because Ma is out of sugar. Isn’t that right?”

Edith smiled indulgently. “Of course.”

“See?”

Caleb stomped out of the room, and her ma shot Jo a quelling glance. “Don’t be too hard on the boy.”

“What?” Jo drawled. “I’m just trying to help.”

The marshal grinned. “Mary Louise better make up her mind soon or I’ll be breaking up fights. There’s nothing like a pretty girl to get a young man’s blood boiling.”

An uncharacteristic spark of jealousy pricked Jo. Apparently, Marshal Cain had noticed the pretty little blonde, too. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I bet her pa hopes she never decides on one suitor. He makes sure all those boys buy something while they’re panting after Mary Louise. I heard he even ordered a new wagon from Wichita.”

“No more gossiping, JoBeth,” her ma scolded from her place by the stove. “And let up on that boy. Being in love is harder than it looks.”

A huff of anger settled at the back of Jo’s throat. They all acted as if she had no emotions. She couldn’t recall one time when her ma had told the boys to let up on her.

Jo braced her arms against the table and locked her elbows. “How come you never tell them to go easy on me?”

“Because you’re tougher than they are.” Her mother waved her wooden spoon for emphasis. “And smarter, too.”

Jo caught the marshal studying her with those dark, intuitive eyes and decided it was time to change the subject. “How are the Elders?”

Her ma’s face lit up. “I just got a letter. Watch the gravy while I fetch it.”

Marshal Cain rested his hat on his knee, his enormous palm dwarfing the crown. “I think I’ve heard that name before.”

“Probably.” Jo stood and crossed to the stove. “The Elders used to live over the rise. They moved to Paris, Texas, going on ten years ago.”

“Wasn’t there something about an outlaw?”

“Mrs. Elder’s first husband was a bank robber. He hid the loot in a cave by Hackberry Creek. The boys sell tours for a penny every summer.”

“They do what?” The marshal set down the lemonade he’d raised to his lips. “Don’t the new owners mind all those kids tramping across their property?”

“No one lives there.” Jo shrugged. “The place has been empty for years”

Her pa stepped into the room. A great bear of a man, Ely McCoy vibrated the floorboards with his heavy steps. Jo dropped the gravy spoon and dashed toward him. “Pa!”

He enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, lifting her feet from the floor. “There’s my little girl. I heard you brought company.”

Jo’s heart soared. Her pa was the only person who treated her like a girl without making her feel weak. He was a stout man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a mop of unruly mahogany hair hanging over his twinkling green eyes.

“This is my pa, Ely McCoy.”

Marshal Cain rose from his seat and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Mr. McCoy.”

“Call me Ely.”

Her pa slapped the marshal on the back, nearly launching him into the hearth. “Glad you’re here, son. I need help balancing the pasture gate.”

Jo grimaced. She loved her pa, but he was always putting the guests to work. “Why don’t you get the boys to help you?”

“Because Caleb’s cologne turns my stomach, and David has gone to Wichita to buy a horse.”

“Glad to help,” Marshal Cain replied easily.

Jo appreciated his calm acceptance of the request. She also liked how his chambray shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He was quiet and thoughtful, never missing a detail. She liked watching as he sized up a room. He looked at people, not through them.

What did he think of her?

Did he see her as everyone else in town did—as an oddity? Somehow or other she didn’t think so. He regarded her with the same deference he showed Cora and her ma. Maybe that’s why he appealed to her—he treated everyone he encountered as though they were important, as though they were worthy of his time.

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