Marrying Miss Marshal (13 page)

U
p early after a restless night, Danna came down the stairs from her room, intending to run a quick patrol. She'd let the gossip scare her into hiding last night, afraid of coming face-to-face with her deputy. She couldn't bear it if he realized her feelings for him and pitied her.

But she needed to find Katy and make sure the girl was okay.

Boots hitting the boardwalk, she drew up short at the sight of two men obviously waiting for her outside the jail.

One of them cleared his throat. “Mrs. Carpenter.” Mr. Castlerock.

“Marshal.” Mr. Parrott.

Her heart sank as she realized both men were members of the town council.

“We need to speak to you for a few moments, on official business.”

She motioned them toward the door, quickly unlocking it. They both filed inside behind her.

Still dark inside due to the early hour, Danna lit the
lamp on her desk by touch and then the two that hung on each side of the room.

The men stood inside the door, Parrott looking decidedly uncomfortable, while Castlerock wore the familiar scowl.

She didn't know whether to sit or stand, so she did what Fred would've done and perched against the side of the desk with her hands clasped in front of her. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Surprisingly, it was Parrott who spoke, not Castlerock. “We're, er…that is, the town council is…” He took a deep breath, as if preparing to deliver bad news.

Danna braced for the worst. They were going to demand her resignation. They'd warned her not to be a subject of the gossip, but this hadn't been her fault.

“Well, let's just say there is a bit of concern that you haven't made much progress on the bank robbery.” He glanced at Castlerock and left Danna no doubt as to who was really worried. “The people of Calvin need to feel they're safe in this town.”

“Have there been any complaints about the job I'm doing?” Danna asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

Parrott's eyes shifted to Castlerock again, and away. “Not
officially,
but—”

“Perhaps the town council could show its support by recommending that able-bodied men volunteer to be deputies,” Danna interrupted, her temper rising, because Castlerock was now using the council to further his own agenda. She forced her voice to stay even, not betray her emotions. “More manpower would certainly help.”

“Yes, well—”

“Have you contacted the sheriff?” Castlerock put in.
Even in the dim light from the lamps, she could see his face had begun to flush. He shifted on his feet, agitation visible from his actions.

“Of course,” she replied, though it was getting harder to keep her tone calm. “I wired over to Glenrock yesterday afternoon when I got back in town. I haven't received a reply, but I would assume he'll get here when he can.”

She hadn't wanted to ask the sheriff for help. He had a whole county to watch over. And Fred had never relied on the sheriff for help. But she'd wired him anyway, knowing she didn't have much choice without finding the robbers.

“You lost their tracks? What are you going to do next?” Castlerock continued questioning her, his eyes and face hard.

Danna stood, propelled by her anger. “I don't recall the town council ever questioning Fred about how he did his job.”

He took a step closer. “Answer the questions, Mrs. Carpenter. I want my money back.”

Danna registered that this was the second time he'd called her by name instead of
Marshal.
Had a decision already been made about her career? Or was Castlerock simply trying to intimidate?

Parrott was no help to her now, as he stood stoic behind Castlerock, though his expression seemed a little apologetic.

Danna expelled a rough breath. “My deputy and I tracked the robbers as long as we could, but we lost the tracks when the snowstorm hit—”

Castlerock exploded. He turned to Parrott, nearly yelling in the other man's face. “Do you see? She
shouldn't even
be
marshal.
My money
is no closer to being found.”

“Hold on—” Danna tried to speak but Castlerock ignored her.

“I want her resignation.”

Silence descended in the wake of Castlerock's demand. Danna stood frozen, unable to believe he'd said the words aloud. Until now, she'd thought she still had time. That she would be able to find the robbers and that she'd…
what?
Be a town hero, like Fred had been?

What would she do now?

Parrott finally moved. He stepped between Danna and Castlerock and held out a hand toward each of them. “Now, George, we'll proceed as the council already decided.”

Danna wanted badly to sit down on the desk behind her. In her exhaustion, and with emotions stampeding over her, her legs threatened to fold. But she refused to give either man the satisfaction of seeing her weak. She would hear the remainder of what they had to say standing. She locked her knees.

“Marshal,” Parrott said, “The town council is concerned. We'll give you a few days—”

“Three,” Castlerock interjected.

Parrott went on, shooting a quelling look at the other man. “A few days to find the bank robbers. If you can't…I'm afraid we'll have to start looking for a replacement.”

Surprise surged through her, along with a renewed sense of hope. There was still time for her to solve this.

Parrott cleared his throat. Apparently, he wasn't done. “There is another matter we need to discuss.”

Castlerock's eyes gleamed. “I can't wait to hear her excuse for this.”

“Hang on.” Parrott tried to calm the other man. “I'm sure there's an explanation. Marshal? Did you spend the night alone with a man?”

Danna couldn't believe it was coming down to this. “We had no choice,” she said, and lifted her chin. “We were caught in the snowstorm. But nothing inappropriate happened.”

The two men shared a speaking glance. “I'm afraid it doesn't matter if anything happened, Marshal,” Parrott said. “We can't have even the appearance of impropriety. Where is this man now? Because I'm afraid he's going to have to marry you.”

 

Chas rapped on the door and pushed it open. “Mornin', Miss Marshal. I know it's early—”

He let the surprise he felt show on his face, as Danna's head came up from her conversation with two older men, one he recognized as the owner of the bank that had been robbed. The other looked vaguely familiar, probably from the dance several nights ago.

“O'Grady.” That growl from Danna didn't sound too pleased to see him.

“Hello, hello.” The taller of the two men moved toward him and extended his hand for Chas to shake. “I assume you're the groom. Joe Parrott. Nice to meet you.” Although the man's words were delivered with a smile, something about him seemed off. “Hmm?”

Face pale, Danna ran a hand over her face. She appeared exhausted, with deep lines etched around her eyes. Had something else happened last night?

The banker moved forward, appraising Chas with a
flickering glance. “I'm afraid the marshal's reputation is tarnished beyond repair, thanks to your little jaunt out into the woods that lasted all night. I'm afraid she either has to get married—to you—or be removed from her position.”

The man's supercilious manner irritated Chas even more than Joe Parrott's false cheerfulness. Then he registered what the other man had said.

“What?”

“Chas—” Danna started.

The rancher interrupted whatever she planned to say. “Perhaps we should leave the two of you to discuss what arrangements should be made. Mr. Castlerock and I will notify the preacher. Shall we meet at the parsonage at, say…two o'clock?”

With that, the two men excused themselves, Parrott sending a shrewd glance over his shoulder.

Once they had gone, Danna slumped in the chair behind her desk and rested her head on folded arms. “What are we going to do?”

Numb, Chas dropped into his usual straight-backed chair near the door. “We can't get married.”

“Thank you very much for that!” she sniped, but her words were muffled by her arms, and was she… It almost sounded like she was…

“You're not crying, are you?”

She raised her head far enough to glare at him and he was enormously grateful to see that she wasn't crying, but the terrible emotion revealed on her expressive face didn't do much to relieve the ache in his stomach. She laid her head back down on her arms.

A terrible racket came from outside and then someone pounded on the door. Danna called a somewhat muffled “Come in!” without raising her head again.

A man—the bank manager from the robbery—pushed the door open and shoved Danna's ugly dog inside the room. The mutt stopped his baying and howling when he entered the room and moved to Chas's side, sitting on his boot.

“Um, Marshal, I'm real sorry to bother you, but your dog was, um, serenading me from my front porch this morning. I thought you might be looking for him.”

Chas idly scratched the top of the dog's head. His brain was still spinning, not entirely on what was happening before him. Marry the marshal?

“I'm really sorry about the trouble,” Danna said, still not raising her head.

Silverton shared a glance with Chas, brows furled. “Marshal…um…are you…I hope you don't mind me asking, but…are you all right?”

She didn't respond. Chas started to get really worried. He'd never seen her this hopeless before. Even when she'd planned to ride out after the bank robbers alone, she'd been more determined than anything else.

It was as if she was giving up.

But he couldn't marry her.

He liked her, admired her even. But he couldn't
marry
her.

Could he?

 

“Married?” Silverton echoed as Chas finished an abbreviated retelling of what had just happened.

Danna couldn't look at either of them. Did Silverton have to sound so appalled? Was she so undesirable as a wife that the man had to use such a shocked tone just talking about marrying her?

“Yes,” she said, hiccupping a little as she finally sat up. “Hitched. Wed. United. Till death do us part.”

She stood up, shaky, and started pacing across the open floor in front of her desk. Silverton wisely moved out of the way.

“They said I am no longer above reproach.” She laughed bitterly. “Other towns have made marshals out of criminals, killers even, but Calvin's town council is going to remove my badge because of a bit of scandal.”

She really couldn't believe it. Hadn't she given her all to this town, to her job?

“But they can't do that. They can't force you to get married.”

“They want to.”

“I could leave,” Chas said, the words halting Danna. She faced the wall, thankfully, so neither man could see the hurt she knew etched her face at his statement.

“That would solve
your
problem, but what about the marshal? If she doesn't marry you, they'd probably still call for her job.”

Why did Silverton have to sound so reasonable about it? She wanted to rage at the unfairness of this happening. She'd just been doing her job. She and Chas hadn't done anything immoral. And to bow to the council's wishes…it made it seem as if the gossip was true.

Oh, God.
The cry came straight from her heart. Her breaking heart.

“Danna.” A touch on her shoulder. She turned to face Chas, doing her best to keep her emotions from showing in her expression.

He looked more serious than she'd ever seen him before. “I can't leave—I have to see this case through,” Chas said, voice low. “I have to find…the rustlers.”

His hesitation over those words meant something, but her mind was too muddled to sort it out right now.

She rubbed a hand over her suddenly aching eyes. “But you don't want to marry me.”

His silence was answer enough.

He didn't get a chance to answer because Silverton spoke. “You could possibly have the marriage annulled later. Coercion is a valid reason for annulment in this state. I'm not a lawyer, but…”

 

Danna turned in a slow circle, perusing the room that had belonged to her and Fred, and after tonight would belong to her and Chas.

They were going to go through with the wedding. And hope that the marriage could be annulled later, after the bank robbery and rustlers and everything else had been sorted out.

Problem was, she didn't know how to keep her heart from being involved. She was already half in love with Chas O'Grady.

She closed her eyes, forcing the troublesome thoughts to the back of her mind. Concentrating on her surroundings.

The room wasn't very homey. In fact, it was almost bare. She'd never had the inclination to weave rugs or hang curtains—the ones she'd hung in the jail downstairs had been out of necessity. The quilt on the bed had been a gift at her wedding to Fred.

Plain writing desk, table and two chairs, stove, small cupboard. Nothing frilly or womanly here at all.

The one decorative item was the wooden chest sitting at the end of the bed. It had been her mother's, and was the only thing she'd taken from Rob when she'd left home at sixteen.

Sitting on the end of the bed, she ran her hand over
the smooth wood. She flipped the lid open and clutched the side of the box as memories rushed over her.

She couldn't remember her mother, except for a sense of warmth and a vague, feminine smell. But she remembered being young—five, maybe?—and going through this very chest. She knew that under the wedding dress were a few letters tied with a ribbon, a family Bible, a portrait of her mother and father, a partial piece of lace. Pieces of her mother.

Rob had come in as she was going through the contents of the chest, and when he'd seen what she was doing, had erupted in a fit of anger. She hadn't realized at the time that he'd been hurting, too, missing her parents. She'd only known she'd done something wrong.