Sherri Shackelford - The Marshal's Ready-Made Family

A Marriage of Necessity

Gentlemen 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.

“Getting hitched solves all your problems.”

Yep, she was JoBeth McCoy, problem solver to the world.

Garrett 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. 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.

SHERRI SHACKELFORD

A wife and mother of three, Sherri Shackelford says her hobbies include collecting mismatched socks, discovering new ways to avoid cleaning and standing in the middle of the room while thinking, “Why did I just come in here?” A reformed pessimist and recent hopeful romantic, Sherri has a passion for writing. Her books are fun and fast paced, with plenty of heart and soul. She enjoys hearing from readers at sherrimshackelford@yahoo.com, or visit her website, at www.sherrishackelford.com.

The Marshal’s Ready-Made Family

Sherri Shackelford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.

—1 Peter 4:8

To Barb, Jenn, Deb, Donna, *lizzie and Cheryl—otherwise known as the Friday Night Critique Ladies. Thank you for the friendship, the knowledge, the occasional argument, the food and the laughter. We always come back to laughter, don’t we?

I’m a better writer for the group.

I’m a better person for knowing each of you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Cimarron Springs, Kansas

1881

JoBeth McCoy knew Marshal Garrett Cain’s life was about to change forever—and all she could do was sit with his young niece until he heard the tragic news about his sister.

The towering double doors behind Jo and five-year-old Cora creaked open, and Reverend Miller cleared his throat. “You can send in the child now.” He held out his hand for Cora. “Marshal Cain has been informed of his sister’s passing.”

Her heart heavy, Jo stood, then hesitated in the dappled sunlight. A soft breeze sent pear blossoms from the trees on either side of the shallow church steps fluttering over them like fragrant snow petals.

Cora rose and snatched Jo’s hand. “Will you go with me?”

A riot of flaxen curls tumbled merrily around the little girl’s face, but her Cupid’s-bow mouth was solemn beneath her enormous, cornflower-blue eyes. Cora clutched a paper funnel filled with lemon drops in her left hand. Her battered rag doll remained anchored to her right side.

Jo met the reverend’s sympathetic gaze, grateful for his almost imperceptible nod of agreement. He was a squat, sturdy man in his middle fifties with thinning gray hair and a kind smile.

The three of them stepped into the church vestibule, and Reverend Miller directed them toward his tiny, cluttered office. Jo paused as her eyes adjusted in the dim light.

Marshal Cain sat on a sturdy wooden chair before the desk, his expression grim. Her heart skittered, but she swallowed back her nerves and forced her steps closer.

His eyes were red, and the tail end of a hastily stowed handkerchief peeked out from his breast pocket. As though embarrassed by his tears, he didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he focused his attention on the petite fingers clutching Jo’s waist. He didn’t stand or approach them, and for that Jo was grateful, especially since Cora cowered behind her.

He caught sight of his niece’s frightened gaze and blinked rapidly. “Hello, Cora. I know we’ve never met, but your mother and I were brother and sister.”

Jo had only seen the marshal a handful of times, but he was an imposing sight sitting down, let alone standing. Well over six feet tall, he wore his dark hair neatly trimmed. Though he didn’t sport a beard, a five-o’clock shadow perpetually darkened his jaw.

His face was all hard lines and tough angles, with a deep cleft dividing his chin. An inch-long scar slashed at an angle from his forehead through one thick, dark eyebrow. Other women might prefer a gentler face, but Jo found his distinctive features fascinating. Not that she looked. A woman simply couldn’t help but notice things once in a while.

Cora took a hesitant step from behind Jo. “Mama is dead.”

“Yes.”

“Papa, too.”

The marshal’s knuckles whitened on the arms of his chair. “I know,” he replied, his voice gruff.

Jo glanced between the two, her chest aching for their shared grief. From what little information she’d gathered, the girl’s parents had died in a fire three weeks ago. As Cora’s closest living relative, Marshal Cain had been assigned guardianship. Reverend Miller had just broken the news, and the poor man was obviously devastated by the loss.

Realizing the reverend had deserted them, Jo craned her neck and searched the empty vestibule. Everyone in town knew she had all the sensitivity of a goat at a tea party, and this situation definitely required a delicate touch.

She caught sight of Cora’s dismayed expression and decided she’d best keep the two talking until the reverend returned. “Why don’t you show Mr. Cain what you bought at the store this morning.”

The marshal’s gaze flicked up at Jo, then quickly returned to Cora as she dutifully extended her arm, revealing her precious stash of candy.

“Want one?”

“Uh, well, sure.” He stretched out one hand and plucked a lemon drop from atop the mound. “Your mother liked peppermints,” he added.

Cora nodded eagerly. “Me, too!”

Relieved by the girl’s easy acceptance of Marshal Cain, Jo spurred the conversation. “Cora rode a train all the way from St. Louis, didn’t you?”