Marrying Miss Marshal (5 page)

D
anna tucked her chin into the upturned collar of her coat, the chill in the early morning wind stealing her breath. She made this journey almost every morning. It never got easier, standing in front of Fred's grave in the small cemetery just outside of town.

This morning she was especially discomfited. Thanks to her new deputy, Chas O'Grady, private detective.

Intriguing.

She shook off her distracting thoughts. She shouldn't be thinking about another man, even one she planned to work with, while visiting her husband's grave.

“I'm sorry I haven't found your killer yet,” she whispered, the wind snatching her words away. Three months, and she hadn't turned over one clue that would lead her in any helpful direction. As his deputy, Fred had believed she could solve any crime. So why couldn't she solve his murder?

She could still see his body lying prone in the field of dry summer grass. Shot in the back. And no one in town or out of town was talking.

Her only hope was to find the horse that matched the funny-shaped hoofprints she'd found near the scene of Fred's murder. The horse was shod, but not well. Something was wrong with one of its shoes. Its tracks made a crescent shape instead of the traditional horseshoe. She'd made a sketch in the leather book Fred had insisted all his deputies carry to take notes on pertinent information.

Since she'd never learned to read or write, Fred had taught her to sketch the important things about crimes she investigated.

But she hadn't been able to track down that horse anywhere.

With a sigh, Danna turned to town. She had one more stop to make before she faced O'Grady this morning.

With the sun barely up, the streets were still quiet. Not many folks stirred this early. Danna wouldn't usually, but she hadn't been able to rest this morning. Too many thoughts crowding in her head, keeping her awake.

She banged on the wind-faded door of a shanty on the edge of town. When her friend Corrine opened the door, Danna lifted the dead rabbit she'd snared with her slingshot. Why waste a bullet if you didn't have to? “Brought you a present.”

“You've been out to the cemetery again.” Corrine didn't sound surprised. She didn't sound much of anything, her voice emerging a monotone. She edged inside, motioning for Danna to follow.

“Lots of game out there, with the tall grasses” was Danna's reply. She didn't have to make an excuse to her best—and only—friend in town. Corrine knew about loss, too.

Inside the shack, the smell of fresh bread wafted through the small space. Three places were set at the table against one wall, under the only window in the house. Two of the plates were untouched with what appeared to be last night's supper still on them.

Corrine faced Danna, unshed tears reddening her eyes. She twisted a towel between her hands, then one hand moved to cover her large-with-child belly.

“What's this? Did you eat last night?” Danna asked, concern for her friend overriding her lingering thoughts about Fred's murder.

Corrine shook her head, visibly upset. “I—I made a plate for Brent, just in case he came home. But—but then I got so upset thinking about him that I couldn't eat.”

Danna nudged her friend into a chair. Another failure on her part. Corrine's husband had been missing since the same night Fred hadn't come home. Unlike Fred's body, Brent had never been found. Danna—and most of the town—couldn't help thinking the two events were connected.

Patting her friend's hand, Danna did her best to comfort the distraught woman. “You need to eat. You've got to think about the baby.”

Corrine nodded, but put her face in her hands and began to snuffle. “I don't know how much longer I can keep going. Wh-why doesn't he come home?”

Danna hugged her friend's shoulders, a little afraid to touch the swell of the other woman's stomach. “Shh. Shh. I don't know. Shh.” She knew better than to offer promises she couldn't keep, so she kept silent while she rocked the slight woman.

Movement from the bed in the corner caught Danna's eye. Ellie, Corrine's daughter, was asleep but
maybe not for much longer. She had to get Corrine calmed down or risk upsetting the three-year-old.

“I don't know what happened to Brent,” Danna said softly, still rubbing Corrine's back. “But I promise I'll find out. I'll do everything I can to find him.” Dead or alive. She didn't say the words, but Corrine shuddered against her shoulder.

“Do you…” Corrine had to sniffle and swallow before she could continue. She spoke in a voice so low it wasn't even a whisper. “Do you think he killed Marshal Fred and that's why he left?”

Most of the town did. But not Danna. “No. Brent might be a laggard and a bum—” and he was, frequently out of work so that his wife had to take jobs in order to feed the family “—but he's always returned when he's left before.”

And Corrine always took him back. Even after weeks apart. Danna couldn't believe her friend would stay in a marriage like that, but what could Danna do, other than help her friend out occasionally? Corrine wouldn't accept what she termed “charity” from anyone else.

“You're right. I know you're right.” Corrine pushed away and went to the washbasin. “Not the part about Brent being a bum—” her voice came muffled from the scrap of towel she scrubbed her face dry with “—but that he's always come back before.”

Danna hated it for her friend that her lousy husband had done this enough times that she could say that. “Is there anything you need?”

Corrine busied herself wrapping one of the two loaves of bread warming on the stovetop. She shook her head quickly. “No. No, we're fine. Thank you for the rabbit, though. I'll make a nice stew with it.”

“Auntie, auntie!” A joyful shout erupted from the bed.

Danna barely had time to scoot her chair away from the table and catch her nightshirt-clad “niece,” Ellie, as the girl vaulted from the bed in the far corner of the room and launched herself at Danna. Holding the three-year-old's small, sleep-warm body in her arms fueled a rush of emotion that brought tears to her eyes. She wanted—
needed
—a family of her own. It was her biggest dream and her deepest regret from before Fred had passed. She'd always wanted to give him a son.

Danna shoved away the familiar longing, stowed it in a deep corner of her heart and made a funny face. “Good morning, Elf. You're late for breakfast.”

Ellie giggled, as she did every time Danna used her pet name. She hefted herself up into her own chair at the table and settled her worn rag doll in her lap. “Ma, can I have jam?”

Corrine smiled at her daughter, but when she turned away to slice a piece of fresh bread, Danna could see fresh tears in her eyes. The bulge of her stomach became more defined when she reached with one hand to rub the small of her back. She didn't have long before the baby came. Would Brent return before that time?

A sense of urgency sent Danna to her feet. She reached for the cloth-wrapped loaf of bread Corrine had placed on the table before her. She froze at Corrine's next words.

“I heard about your new deputy. You rushing off to him?”

“Ya got a new dep'ty, Auntie?” Ellie's question echoed her mother's, but her blue eyes held an innocence that Corrine's did not.

Danna sagged against the table. “Don't tease, Corrine. I can't imagine this working out.” Not with Chas O'Grady only concerned about one thing: his case. Maybe his presence would allow her to make inroads with the other men. She hoped.

“You'll be fine,” Corrine said, reversing roles and patting Danna's shoulder comfortingly. “It can't be different than working with the other deputies back when Fred…was still here.”

“Yes, but when Fred was marshal, I wasn't in charge. And this isn't the same situation at all.”

More of a trial period. Chas O'Grady would leave once he'd found his outlaws. Danna only hoped she would get the respect she deserved from the people of Calvin, and maybe the help of a couple more deputies.

Corrine narrowed her eyes. “Why? Because he's a handsome fellow?”

“What? No!” A hot flush stole its way up Danna's neck and into her face, mocking her denial. “Even if he is handsome, I have no intention of noticing. He's a city dude. Likely, he won't make it long in our small town.” Or for other reasons.

Corrine shrugged. “I don't know why you're getting all bothered. It almost sounds as if you
want
him to leave.”

Danna waved her hat in front of her still-warm face. “I don't know what I want. Just to find Fred's killer and find some peace.”

She was tired. Tired of working alone. Of facing the censure that nearly all the town showed for her. The town council had thought she could do the job of marshal. Why didn't anyone else? Carrying a gun, enforcing the laws, those were the things she was
good at.
The only things.

“Maybe that's not all that God wants for you,” Corrine said softly.

Danna couldn't help it. Her eyes dropped to her friend's pregnant belly. She'd always wanted a family…until she'd made herself stop wanting that impossible dream.

“I have to go,” Danna said finally, when she could find words again. She reached down to hug Ellie, who'd watched the exchange with huge blue eyes.

“Bye, Auntie!”

Corrine pushed the forgotten loaf of bread into Danna's hands. “You're plenty smart. You'll figure out what to do.”

 

Danna strode out of the saloon, disgusted. She'd stopped in to find out what the owner would charge Ellery and Hamilton for damages to his properties from their fight yesterday. She'd thought a morning visit would be a mite more respectable. And she'd been the epitome of professionalism, but the proprietor had insisted on leering at her the entire time, and offered her a job as one of his “girls” on her way out.

She was steaming mad, fighting to hold on to her temper.

And that's when she saw Chas O'Grady leaning casually against the outside corner of the jail, in what looked to be a cheerful conversation with two of Calvin's eligible young ladies, Penny Castlerock and Merritt Harding.

Still fired up, Danna stomped right toward the little group.

Penny Castlerock, the wealthy banker's daughter, in her frilly gown, with her hair cascading in copper
ringlets from her bonnet, and with a parasol bobbing over her shoulder, was the picture of femininity.

Even Merritt, the schoolmarm who was a little too old to be on the marriage market, was pretty in a slightly faded gingham dress, with her blond tresses bound up in a bun like Danna could never achieve.

She would never be like those women. She didn't want to be like those women. Did she?

The question stopped her in place. She turned toward the general store, pretending to admire the two gowns in its front window.

When she'd become Fred's wife at age sixteen, she hadn't known how to do any feminine things. Keep house, sew a quilt, cook…all those things had been beyond her capabilities.

And Fred had never made her learn. He'd seen her skill with a rifle, and how she could track a coon in a snowstorm, and made her his deputy instead. She'd never fit in with the other women in town, and he hadn't asked her to.

She didn't really want to be like all the others, did she?

In the reflection of the glass she could see Penny leaning flirtatiously close to O'Grady. She couldn't help straining her ears to overhear their discussion.

“Perhaps we need a man's opinion. Mr. O'Grady?” Penny's query was accompanied by a flutter of her eyelashes so big Danna could see it from this distance.

“Yes?”

“I'm trying to decide between these two hats.” Now Penny pointed to the window of the milliner's shop, right next to the jail. “Pink or yellow?”

O'Grady considered the store window for a few mo
ments, then said, “I'm afraid I don't know much about ladies' fashion. They both look fine to me.”

Danna felt a little gratified he didn't seem to be falling for the girl's overeager manner.

Penny giggled, a shrill sound to Danna's ears, and she had to clench her teeth.

The young woman leaned toward Chas to murmur, “You must not know much about ladies either. You never tell a woman she looks ‘fine.' She may look ‘lovely,' or ‘pleasing,' or even ‘handsome,' but never simply ‘fine.'” Then she oh-so-casually placed her gloved hand on O'Grady's forearm.

The flirt! Danna thought she stifled the snort that wanted to emerge, but she must've made some noise, for Penny and Merritt turned toward her, and Chas's head came up.

“Well, hello, Marshal,” Penny greeted. “Are you shopping for a new gown?”

Danna narrowed her eyes. The girl's question seemed innocent, but everyone in town knew Danna never wore dresses. “No, miss, I'm not. Hello.” Danna nodded to the group and considered whether she should walk past them to the jail. Since they'd engaged her in conversation, it seemed rude to go on. She stepped forward, but not close enough to be considered part of their group.

“Do you know Mr. O'Grady?” Penny asked. “You do? Hmm. Merritt and I were just commenting how terribly
brave
he was yesterday to stop that horrid fight in front of the saloon.”

The fight Danna had stopped? Merritt shook her head and Danna wondered if she was embarrassed for her friend's overly flirtatious behavior.

Color crept into Chas O'Grady's cheeks. “Marshal Carpenter—”

“You're coming to the dance next week, aren't you, Marshal? Papa said I could have a new bonnet and dress. Which do
you
like better, the pink or the yellow?”

Danna took a cursory glance into the shop window. Honestly, they both looked the same to her. Fussy frills and ribbons. “The yellow is nice.”